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Emily sat up and blinked. She wasn't in her room. For a moment she was confused and then it all came rushing back. The drop. The sadness. The article. Dalton and Derek showing up at her room. Smacking him like a crazy person and Derek ditching out, leaving with the announcement that she was in Professor Rogers' care for the next five days.
Pulling the blanket back, she searched the room until she spotted Dalton, standing twenty feet away, having a drink and staring at her.
Get away from him. That was the only thought in her mind, but she knew she couldn't flee. Derek would be so mad at her. And if she were being honest, leaving wouldn't help. She just needed to get past her emotions and figure out what to do. She just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, with them having a playful working relationship, and her having no idea that he was Arabella Cole.
It was too late for that. That cat was not going back into the bag. She just needed a minute and she couldn't think with him staring at her like that.
Turning to him, she cleared her throat. "I need to use the restroom. Am I supposed to crawl?"
Raising his brows, Dalton smirked. "That won't be necessary. When you get back, we’re going to talk."
"Great," she muttered, earning another eyebrow raise. Ignoring it, she pulled herself to standing and all but ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
She dinked around for as long as she could, washing her hands and face, and combing her hair with her fingers. She looked a mess, and she was suddenly ashamed at the state he was seeing her in. Then she remembered she was pissed at him and didn't care. Let him see her a mess. It didn't matter. He would never want someone like her anyway. This way he wouldn't have to pretend.
With her head held high, she pulled the door open to find him sitting on the couch she had just occupied with his drink on the table in front of him. With a snarl, so he would know she wasn't happy about it, she joined him.
If he noticed her attitude, he ignored it.
"Is your safe word still papaya?" he asked.
The question shocked her. What had happened to not wanting to touch her, or even talk to her until her attitude changed? Clearly, it hadn't. She was, if anything, angrier now than she was earlier.
But she couldn't find her voice to say any of the things she was thinking, so she just nodded. "Yes."
Maybe a spanking would bring her out of this funk.
"Are your limits still the same?"
"I guess." She shrugged. She didn't want to negotiate. She just wanted to move on to whatever was next.
"No guessing. It's a yes or no question. Do we need to renegotiate your limits?"
"No."
He nodded. "Earlier you asked what you should call me, and I didn’t have an answer. I do now. You will call me Daddy. You should call me Daddy because for the next several days, I'm going to take care of you like a daddy would his little girl. And then, when you are feeling better, we can talk and sort out why you smacked me and why you didn’t call me when you dropped like you promised."
So, she wasn't getting spanked. Not for a while anyway. She honestly wasn't sure how she felt about that. And what did ‘take care of you like a daddy would take care of his little girl’ mean? Age play was on her soft limits list. Before she could voice the question, he continued by reaching into a bag at his feet.
"I can see your wheels turning, little one. All it means right now is that you call me Daddy and let me take care of you."
He pulled out a soft looking teddy bear and handed it to her. Unable to stop herself, she reached eagerly for it and snuggled it against her cheek. It was even softer than it looked.
She instantly felt silly and self-conscious. She was a service sub, not a Little. A stuffed animal to cuddle should not make her this happy.
Before she could tamp down her response, he smiled at her and nodded encouragingly. "If you cooperate and let Daddy take care of you, then being my good little girl will mean things like hot cocoa and Disney movies, bubble baths and snuggles.”
As he spoke, he pulled the required items out of his bag. A box of gourmet cocoa, a trio of Disney movies, one that was animated and two that were not, a fancy-looking bottle of bubble bath and a soft gray blanket. She reached for the blanket and he stopped her.
"These are the things that good girls get," he reminded her, wagging his finger. "What happens over the next few days depends on you but let me show you what I got for little girls who don't obey their Daddy."
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she squeezed the bear he had given her and waited. One by one, four more items came out of the bag. The first was a one-piece drop drawer pajama with ‘Daddy’s Naughty Baby’ emblazoned on the front and a row of ruffles across the butt. Embarrassing, but not any more so than walking around naked. She nodded wordless agreement.
The next item was a large pink pacifier, adult baby size. Her stomach tensed, but only because she recalled the urge to stick her thumb in her mouth that she had been fighting all day. Again, she nodded, and he moved onto the next item. The next two things had her stomach and butt clenching with panic. One was a large bottle, and the fourth and final item, was a diaper.
She drew in a sharp breath and Professor Rogers looked at her. "If you are a good girl, you get treats. If you are a bad girl, Daddy will make you littler and littler, until you remember how to act. You have age play on your soft limits list. Everything here, and whether or not it’s used, is up to you. I'm not going to pin a bunch of arbitrary expectations on you and wait for you to mess up so I can force you into things you don't want. I only expect you to obey and not treat me the way you were earlier. Let Daddy take care of you and give you what he thinks you need, and we won't have any problems. The rewards," he exclaimed pointing to the blanket, cocoa, movies and bubble bath, "are yours to choose from any time Daddy thinks you have earned one. The other items," he said pointing from the pajama to the diaper, “will be used in order if you don't obey Daddy or you treat him badly. First offense…" He picked up the pajama. "Second offense…" He held up the pacifier. "Third offense…" He picked up the bottle." And fourth offense." He held up the diaper, then crinkled his brow and frowned. "Smack me again and you get all four right then and there."
Emily grimaced. "I won't be doing that again," she promised. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. It was… a temporary leave of my senses." She wasn't lying. She was still angry and trying to work through her feelings about his secret identity, but she was sorry she had smacked him. She was lucky she could even sit down at the moment.
