Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

I'm grinning from ear to ear as we approach the island on Sunday. It's so beautiful. I feel lighter than I've ever felt in my life. The air is so clean. I keep inhaling deep lungsful and giggling. I haven't coughed a single time since we got on the ferry. I don't think I coughed much at Noah's apartment either.

Daddy is happy, too. Every time I turn around to look at him, he's smiling. He's not looking at the approaching beach. He's looking at me.

Everything in my world is upside down. I've never left the mainland in my life. I've never been on a boat. I've never been more than a few miles away from my home. I've never seen the ocean even though I lived only a few hours from the shore all my life.

Crazier still—I'm wearing nothing more than a T-shirt, diaper, and sandals. My hair is in braids. Most of the Littles around me on the ferry are dressed the same, and Daddy has assured me over and over that the ones who are not wearing identical outfits will be before we arrive or shortly thereafter.

When we boarded the ferry, Daddy asked me if I wanted to sit inside or outside. I bounced up and down, pointing to the top deck of the ferry. I'm still not sure it was my best choice. The view has been amazing, but I had to endure two unexpected things.

One, Daddy put sunscreen on every exposed part of me, including my inner thighs. He took his time, rubbing the lotion into my skin until I was panting from his touch. When he finished, I thought I might catch my breath, but I was wrong. The next thing he did was put a harness on me.

I've never been more aware of myself as a sexual being as I am wearing this harness. He said if I wanted to sit outside on the upper deck, I had to wear the harness for my safety. He hasn't let go of the attached leash for a single moment.

It's more than that, though. The harness is hugging all my tingly places. The straps across my chest are rubbing against my nipples. Another strap comes up between my legs and holds my diaper firmly against my pussy.

The entire thing is cinched tightly, and every time I take a step toward the railing, Daddy gives a tug that makes me aware of my arousal. Does he realize I've started tugging on him just because I like the feeling of the restraint system?

I'm in an odd blissful state that doesn't diminish. I've been hovering here ever since Daddy made me come yesterday morning. He awakened something inside me I didn't know existed, and it's been smoldering ever since.

"We're almost there, Baby girl." He pulls on the leash attached to the middle of my back so that I'm forced to take a few steps backward until I'm between his legs, his front against my back.

He flattens a palm over my tummy and brings his lips to my ear. "You're going to thrive here, sweet girl."

I'm scared, but I think he's right. All I keep thinking is that I'm finally free.

I trust Daddy. He's told me several times he will not ever hit me—not in anger or for play—and I believe him. My fears have nothing to do with him and everything to do with my father. In a few hours, he will arrive home to find me gone. I didn't even leave a note. I also didn't take anything with me that would cause him to think I ran away. The only thing I took was my backpack and the box. I don't think he's aware I own either.

"Are you nervous, Baby girl?" Daddy whispers in my ear.

"A little," I admit. I look around the ferry. "Are you sure my father can't hop on a ferry and come find me?"

"Positive. No one can board the ferry without being well-vetted. Besides, he has no idea where you disappeared to, Little one." Daddy turns me around so I'm facing him. He cups my face. "I hired a private investigator to watch your father, Lacey."

My breath hitches. "Really?"

"Yes. He'll report to me when your father returns home and exactly what he does. I don't want you to worry about it. I'll handle anything that comes up, okay?"

I nod, but now I'm panicking about the safety of the private investigator.

"Your life of abuse is over, sweet girl. Gone. I've got you now. I won't let anything happen to you."

I notice how he keeps speaking as if I'm his forever and ever. I really want to be, but I refuse to hope he will not grow tired of me. What if he changes his mind and doesn't want me anymore? Where would I go? What would I do?

"Just a few more minutes and we'll pull up to the dock. I need you to stay right next to Daddy all the time. It's crowded. I don't want to lose you."

I grab the buckle at the front of my harness and give it a tug. "How could I possibly wander away?"

He chuckles. "Are you being cheeky with your Daddy?"

I giggle. Maybe I am.

When the ferry docks, Daddy holds me back, keeping me between his legs. He slides one palm under my harness on my tummy and keeps me close.

While people rush to the stairs to descend and disembark, Daddy doesn't move. His fingers dragged across the lower swell of my breasts, teasing me, making the flutters return full force in my tummy.

My pussy is wet and swollen. My breasts feel heavy. My nipples keep rubbing against the harness, and now Daddy is stroking his fingers precariously close to the tight buds without touching them.

I'm a ball of need on shaky legs by the time Daddy finally eases me out from between his knees and rises. "Ready?"

I nod, but I'm not sure my legs will hold me up. I think he's playing dirty with me, making me feel such distracting things.

Daddy holds my leash in his hand, keeping me constantly aware of my body's reaction to him. When we finally step off the ferry, Daddy instructs someone to deliver our bags to his home and then guides me toward a parking lot filled with rows and rows of golf carts.

"Where are all the cars?" I ask.

"No cars are allowed on the island, Little one. Everyone has electric golf carts." We reach the one that must be his, and he surprises me by lifting me up by the hips, swinging me into an adult car seat, and fastening me in. Now there are more things cinched tight around me—a harness on top of another harness. He didn't remove the straps around my body when we reached the golf cart.

Daddy climbs onto the seat in front of me, starts the cart, and pulls out of the lot.

I rarely blink as we pass beautiful greenery before finally entering the center of town. I see the street sign. It's even called Main Street. There are businesses on both sides of the road, and I squeal with delight when we pass the library.

It only takes a few minutes to get to the other end of Main Street, and then Daddy parks. I'm left sitting in my seat staring at the front of the clinic, panicking. I haven't let myself think about this visit to see the doctor because I knew it would do no good and only serve to keep me nervous and fidgeting all day.

I'm shaking and holding on to Daddy's hand with my good one as we enter the clinic. The place is quiet. After all, it's a Sunday. They don't take appointments on Sunday. The doctors only come in on special request or when there is a Little who needs medical attention that can't wait.

Daddy stops just inside the clinic to remove my harness before he guides me through the waiting room and down a hallway. He finally stops and raps his knuckles on an open door.

I grab on to Daddy's arm, almost hiding behind him as I look into the room to find a man rising from behind a desk. It's an office, not an exam room.

The man beams as he approaches. "Brian, you're back." He shifts his gaze to me. "Hi there. I'm Dr. Morgan. And you must be Lacey."

"Yes, Sir." I feel compelled to be polite. There's a vibe in the air. I can sense it all over the island.

"Come on back. Let's get you in an exam room."

I'm nervous, but I don't say anything. I know the doctor is going to ask me hard questions. He's also going to examine me more than he would another patient. How many abuse survivors does he see each day?

Daddy doesn't even shut the door as he follows Dr. Morgan into an exam room. He lifts me up and sets me on the end of the exam table.

"I've read through the notes you sent me yesterday. Sounds like this Little one has a number of past and present injuries."

"Yes. She's been doing well for the past two days, improving slowly, but I'm still worried about internal injuries or even past fractures."

"Understandable." Dr. Morgan turns toward me. His smile is warm even though I'm certain I'm about to be very embarrassed. He takes a few minutes to do normal things like look into my ears, eyes, nose, and throat.

He lifts my arm next and examines my wrist. I'm sure Daddy told him about this particular injury.

The doctor is quiet as he presses on several spots, making me occasionally wince. He lifts my other hand and compares them before setting them down. "When I finish your exam, I'll get some X-rays. I don't think your wrist is broken, but I want to make sure. Can you tell me what bones you think might have been broken in the past, Little one?"

He speaks so kindly to me that it's hard to avoid his inquisition.

"Maybe my ribs," I whisper, "and this wrist once before."

"This is your dominant hand, right?" the doctor asks.

He's very observant. "Yes, Sir."

He picks up his stethoscope next. "Can you take her shirt off for me?" he directs toward Daddy.

I whimper as Daddy pulls my T-shirt over my head, leaving me in nothing but a diaper. It's even wet because I couldn't hold it any longer.

Daddy stands on one side of me. Dr. Morgan stands on the other. The doctor lifts the little disk toward my chest. "Sit up tall for me, Little one. Shoulders back, hands at your sides."

I try to obey him. I want Daddy to be proud of me. I want to be agreeable even though I'm scared.

"Good girl," Daddy says in that tone he uses when he's pleased with me and praising me.

The doctor listens to my chest in at least a dozen places. He takes his time, moving the disk around my breasts and between them. Eventually, he switches to my back and repeats the slow listen. "You say she's had a cough?"

"Yes. It was noticeably worse when I took her to her home. Her father is a smoker. I suspect she will stop coughing altogether now that she won't be exposed to the impurities."

When the doctor lowers the stethoscope, he says, "Her lungs and heart sound really good. I bet you're right. Some people can't tolerate smoke and improve as soon as they aren't around it. Can you lie back for me, Little one."

Daddy helps me recline before gently lifting my arms above my head.

The position makes me feel unbelievably exposed. My breasts are on full display, and my legs won't lie fully straight. My knees are bent and splayed open to accommodate my diaper.

The doctor leans over the bruising on my tummy first. "Was this from a kick, Little one?" he asks.

"Yes, Sir," I mumble.

He feels around the area. "Let me know if my prodding hurts, Lacey."

It hurts, but not nearly as badly as yesterday. I'm starting to heal. I'm familiar with this routine. It takes about ten days for the bruises to heal, especially on my tummy.

The doctor moves on to the other side of my stomach. "Any pain anywhere else, Little one?"

"No, Sir."

He lingers on one side, pressing against what I assume is my bladder because I suddenly feel like I need to pee again. I draw my knees up and whimper.

"Has she been peeing regularly?" he asks Daddy.

"Yes. She's transitioned pretty smoothly to diapers and bottles. I suspect she'll feel shy about both for a while until she gets more comfortable in her Little space, but alone at home, she has adjusted quickly."

The doctor nods as he shifts his attention to my breasts.

When I try to lower my arms, Daddy grips my hands in one of his and presses them against the table above my head. He's careful with my wrist. He's always careful with my wrist. "Stay still, sweet girl," he gently commands.

I hold my breath as the doctor feels around my breasts.

"When was the last time you had a physical, Little one?" Dr. Morgan asks.

It's hard to focus with his fingers grazing my nipples. "When I was about ten."

The doctor nods. He doesn't comment on my total lack of medical care for the past ten years. I assume Daddy has told him all about my situation. "Do you have regular periods, Little one?"

My face heats. I don't want to talk about my cycle.

He looks at me, leaving a hand on my chest between my breasts. "You're underweight and probably haven't had good nutrition for a long time. I bet your periods are irregular. Not every month."

I nod, grateful he's answered his own question for me. It's easier if I don't have to speak. I'd love it if I could have that pacifier Daddy sometimes offers me. Then I could go into my head and not talk.

Dr. Morgan pats my chest and smiles before turning his attention toward Daddy. "Make sure she stays on a strict feeding schedule. No skipping bottles and she needs to finish them entirely. If she needs an incentive, we can come up with something."

Daddy nods. "I have a plan."

I glance at him. He has a plan for what?

"Good." The doctor moves down to the end of the table. He lifts one of my legs and bends it toward my chest, examining the back of my thigh. When his fingers prod near my diaper, I realize he's looking at scars where I've been beaten.

He frowns as he does the same to the other leg. "These will fade with time, but she probably won't ever be able to tolerate spanking."

"I didn't figure."

"We'll get her set up to see the counselor on the island, but no amount of therapy is going to help her tolerate impact play after years of abuse."

Daddy nods.

The doctor meets my gaze again. "Did your father ever make you stand in timeouts in the corner, Little one?"

I shake my head. "No, Sir." My father was all about lashing out at me, yanking me too hard, beating me. He didn't have any sort of plan about teaching me a lesson. He was just angry and mean.

Dr. Morgan returns his attention to Daddy. "Timeouts might work, but watch carefully. Make sure nothing triggers her. Littles, especially deeply regressed Littles, nearly always need strict rules and boundaries, and they need to know you will enforce them. Firm discipline helps them feel safe, but it's important for that type of discipline to fill their needs. Even though most Littles have a strong desire to purge their feelings through spanking, others cannot tolerate impact play, and you have to get more creative."

I'm still trying to absorb everything he's saying, but he removes my diaper at the same time, and it distracts me. My heart is pounding as he guides my feet into stirrups and spreads my legs wide, exposing my private parts.

The doctor pulls a stool between my legs and sits at a level that allows him to examine me so intimately I think I might die.

Daddy sets his free hand on my tummy. "Deep breaths, Little one. The doctor needs to examine all of you."

I can't breathe at all, deeply or otherwise.

Dr. Morgan's gloved hands part my folds. "Your Daddy tells me you haven't had penetrative sex yet. Is that right, Little one?"

My breath hitches as I nod.

"I'm going to ask you some very personal questions, Little one, because I don't want to hurt you. Has anything been inside your vagina?"

I shake my head. My face is burning hot.

"No one has put a finger in you?"

I shake my head again.

"And you haven't explored yourself and pushed a finger inside?"

Another shake.

"What about other objects? Toys? Vibrators?"

Holy moly. I'm so embarrassed, not just from the discussion but also because my lack of experience even touching myself is nerve-wracking. Ever since Daddy showed me how good it feels to have my pussy touched, I've thought about it nearly nonstop. I'm kind of kicking myself for not having explored this side of myself on my own, but there's no way I would have ever done so in my tiny bedroom with no door.

"Do you use tampons or pads, Lacey?"

I can't hold back my emotions at that last question. "Neither," I whisper as tears gather. I'm so pitiful. "I had a few pads from the school when I first got my period, but then I just used wash clothes after that."

Daddy's hands stiffen against me. I know he tries very hard not to get angry about my plight, but this revelation makes his jaw tighten. He's mad on my behalf. I know he is.

"Okay," Dr. Morgan says. "I'm not going to put anything up inside her vagina today. I don't think it's necessary. When and if she's ready to have vaginal intercourse, you'll need to take care preparing her."

Daddy nods.

Dr. Morgan addresses me again. "As for your period. There are several options. For diapered Littles, there's no need for pads or tampons, but if you want to explore birth control options, one of those would be an injection. It would keep you from ovulating, and for most women, it also stops their period."

I've never considered birth control, but the thought of not bleeding onto a cloth every month sounds intriguing. Wearing a diaper is embarrassing enough. I don't want to bleed into it also.

Daddy leans over and looks me in the eyes. "We don't have to decide anything today. Dr. Morgan is just giving you options. We'll talk about it more another day, okay?"

I bite my lip and give him a slight nod.

"Good girl." He smiles at me for the millionth time, and it warms me and makes me feel better.

"Has she had regular bowel movements?" Dr. Morgan asks, changing the subject to something more horrifying than my cycle.

I squeeze my eyes closed.

"Yes. We started bottles Friday night. Her body is purged of everything that was in her by now," Daddy tells him.

"Good. Don't introduce any foods for a while. Let's get her regulated and get her weight up. I want her to empty her bowels regularly, though. I'd suggest using a suppository every morning for a while until her body adapts."

"Sounds good."

Sounds good ? I don't think so. I don't even know what a suppository is.

Daddy looks at me and pats my tummy. He must see my confusion on my face because he explains, "A suppository is a medicine Daddy will put up inside your bottom. In this case it will be something that makes your body empty your bowels. It won't hurt."

I squeeze my butt cheeks together at the thought, but even more humiliating than the thought of Daddy putting something up in my butt is how my body is reacting to this news.

Now all I can think about is what it will feel like for him to put his finger inside me there . It sounds so…wrong, and yet I like it when Daddy does things to me that are incredibly intimate. It makes me feel like we have something special and secret between us.

I guess on this island nothing is really a secret. Everyone lives a similar lifestyle, but it still makes that flutter happen in my tummy, the sensation I get every time Daddy even looks at me.

Lying here naked on this exam table, exposed to both Daddy and the doctor is making my heart race and my special parts throb. Is something wrong with me?