Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
She’s grinning as she blinks and finally meets my gaze. “Now you.”
Chapter Eleven
Sara
Papi lifts a brow as he reaches for a wet cloth. He says nothing as he cleans my sensitive folds, and his silence continues while he rubs ointment on my pussy and folds a diaper around me.
“Papi…” I plead when he releases my restraints and lifts me into his arms. I love it when he holds me. I love the way he cradles me and nuzzles my neck. I love the smell of him and the feel of his warm skin against mine.
Even after two amazing orgasms, the contact of my breasts against his pecs is enough to send me into a tailspin of need yet again. I’m insatiable.
He carries me to the living room and gently lowers me into the bouncy seat where he sometimes reluctantly places me when he absolutely has to do something that involves both hands—like cooking for himself.
I’m aware if he had his way, he would never set me down even for a moment. But he has to eat, and he occasionally seems to go into a secret room somewhere to eliminate. I don’t grasp what or how he does it, but I gather it’s not the sort of bathroom we have on Earth.
This time, he tugs the bouncy seat close to the couch where he sits, parting his legs to straddle mine. He sets his elbows on his knees and stares down at me, not touching me.
I squirm. My stupid arms won’t cooperate even though I’d like to reach for him. He’s scaring me. I don’t like this lack of contact. It’s unnerving. “Papi…”
He finally reaches with one hand to tickle my toes. At least he’s smiling. “I probably shouldn’t have done that, Little one. You aren’t in full control of your body.”
“I may not be in control of my body, but I’m in control of my mind, Papi. I wanted it. And now I want to return the favor. If you won’t put your cock in my pussy, at least let me suck it. You know I can suck just fine,” I joke.
He snickers. “Not a chance in hell, Baby girl. Not until you can walk across the room, climb over me, and take my cock out on your own. There is no way I would fuck your mouth until I’m certain you’re fully capable of being in control of the activity.”
I groan.
He lifts a brow. “Listen, sassy girl. I might not let you lick my dick before you’re able to lift your head, but I won’t hesitate to take you over my knees and spank your naughty bottom if you give me cause.”
I wiggle my toes, which shocks and pleases him. “Hmmm,” I ponder. “So if I have a little tantrum, you’ll spank me?”
He lifts both brows now. “Little girl, are you testing your Papi?”
“Maybe?”
He shakes his head. “Maybe we should at least wait until you can hold your head up on your own, naughty girl. I’ll just keep a tally of all your sassy behavior and save it up.”
I push my bottom lip out in an uncharacteristic pout. I don’t even know myself. This is not me. I’m someone I don’t recognize. What happened to the black clothes, dark makeup, and messy braids? I’ve become a makeup-less infant with pigtails and no clothes.
I’ve never been overly modest. I’ve been known to wear a bikini at the beach so everyone can see my gorgeous tattoos, but I’ve never been an exhibitionist either. I’ve never flashed my tits at people.
In a crazy twist, I don’t seem to care who sees my nipples. No one has yet, but the idea is kind of titillating. I’m curious to see if what Papi has told me is true—every woman living here is from Earth and wears nothing but a diaper?
Suddenly, I have another concern. What do these women do? Do they have jobs? Where? Will I be able to sing?
Papi tickles my toes again, making me squirm.
“Will I be able to find work here, Papi?”
He frowns. “Work?”
I stiffen. “Yes. You know. Singing. Please don’t tell me you intend for me to stay home cooking and cleaning while you do manly things like work.”
His frown deepens. “You will never cook and clean, Little one. In fact, I don’t want you near the oven or stove. It’s not safe.”
I gasp. “Not safe?” Is he delirious? “I’ve been cooking since I could drag a chair over to the stove to heat up my food. I knew how to start the burner by the time I was about four. Sometimes the only food I had was canned. I learned how to operate a can opener or risk starving.”
His brows are furrowed deeply. “I’m sorry, Little one. That must have been hard. You’ll never be hungry here. I will provide for you, feed you, and clean you up afterward.”