Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

BARON

I'm so nervous! I've never had a Daddy in my apartment before. Hell, I've never played with a Daddy before.

Whoops , don't tell him I said hell.

Or that I said it again.

Did I mention I'm nervous?

But, as nervous as I am, I'm excited, too. Because Vince was so kind last night, and then he rescued me tonight, and if I believed in signs from the universe, this would be a big, neon one that says "This is the Daddy for You."

I'm so happy that he's agreed to come upstairs that I almost forget about all my scrapes and bruises. That is, until I step into the bathroom and start to peel off my destroyed clothes. I whimper as they rub over my raw patches of skin, and immediately there's a knock at the door.

"You okay?"

My lower lip wobbles, but I try to be brave. I want tonight's visit with Daddy to go well. I don't want him thinking I'm a crybaby. "I'm fine."

There's a pause before he asks, "Are you sure? I'm a doctor, sweetheart. I still want to look over your injuries…but only if you're okay with that."

My tummy flip-flops again. Daddies are supposed to look after their Boys, right?

Padding over the tiles, I open the door and swallow. "I'd like your help, Daddy."

I hiss as he carefully helps get my shirt off, the pads of his fingers gently prodding over the spots where my skin is already starting to turn a purple-blue color. "Sorry, Bear," he croons, "I'm making sure these are just surface wounds."

Swallowing, I blush fiercely when his fingers find the button on my jeans. My blush deepens when I remember wetting myself in fear earlier tonight, and I hope he can't tell. I'm a good boy, I swear. I never have accidents in my big boy clothes.

"Is this still okay?" Daddy looks up from where he's kneeling in front of me, and my penis seems to register that this could be a really fun position.

I turn tomato red when it grows harder right under Daddy's wrist.

How do I have enough blood to blush and get an erection?

"Bear?" Daddy looks concerned. "Is this okay? Did you want me to wait outside again?"

"No," I gasp, then hurry to explain, "It is okay. I'm…I'm just embarrassed, but not because I don't want you to undress me. I, um, I…" I look up at the ceiling. "My penis is hard."

There's a moment of silence before Daddy says, " Oh ."

I squeeze my eyes shut.

"It's okay," he replies, soft and soothingly. "Mine is, too."

Startled, my eyes fly open and I gape at him. "It is?"

Lips quirking upward, he nods. "I mean, you're gorgeous and I'm undressing you, baby. Of course my body is going to react to that. But," he adds before I can say anything, "right now, I just want to make sure you're not badly hurt, and I want to clean out these wounds, okay? We'll talk about how excited we are after."

Squirming a little, I agree. "Okay, Daddy."

I can't watch while he carefully pulls my jeans and underwear down, and I try not to think about how close he is to touching my penis. I can only imagine how that would feel. If my own hand feels good, his big, warm, Daddy hand would feel even better.

Stop thinking about it .

I force myself to take deep breaths.

"Oh, Bear." I jolt at the empathy in Daddy's voice, and I look down to where he is carefully inspecting the ugly puncture in my thigh from where the bike pedal broke through my jeans. "This one is going to hurt to clean, but you shouldn't need stitches, at least."

He climbs to his feet, then leans over the tub, running the water and testing the heat of it on his wrist. "A bath is going to make cleaning your wounds easier. Still water won't irritate them as much as running water." His expression is mournful. "It's still going to sting, though. I'm sorry."

"I'll be brave," I say decisively. Then I smile. "I like baths. I've never had a Daddy bathe me before."

Daddy blinks for a moment, then smiles back. "Well, I'll be gentle with your sore spots, sweetheart, I promise."

Right, I remind myself. This isn't a fun-time bath. This is a serious bath. I glance sadly toward the cupboard under the bathroom sink, where my plastic container filled with bath toys lives. Next time, Duckiedoo .

Vince holds my hand as I climb over the edge of the tub and doesn't let go until I'm settled. Then he plucks one of the washcloths from the shelf next to the tub and dunks it under the water, rubbing it over the bar of soap he found before swooping it over my back.

I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of Daddy taking care of me, barely wincing as he gently cleans out my grazes, rinsing the cloth and repeating his actions over and over, leaving the stinging sore spot on my thigh for last.

I cry out when he washes that one, squeezing my eyes shut so tightly that I see bright spots in the darkness behind my eyelids.

Daddy's voice is low and rumbly as he soothes me. "It's okay, sweetheart. We're almost done here. You're being so brave."

My penis went all droopy because of the pain, but being praised by Daddy wakes it up again. I'm not looking at it, but I can feel it getting bigger and harder.

Daddy chuckles. "I see you're feeling better, huh?"

I peek up at him. "You made it better."

"Well, we still have to get you dry and put some antibacterial cream and bandages over some of these wounds, but I'm glad I could help."

By this point, I'm pretty sure my eyes have turned into love hearts, like that emoji…or, ooh, the one with the cat ears! He's cute!

"Come on," Daddy continues, "let's get you out before the water gets too cold."

I can't hide my grin as he helps me out of the tub, or as he gently rubs me down with my towel. Then he gets a fresh towel and wraps it around me before guiding me into my bedroom.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I look at my bed, glad that I forced myself to make it this morning. I don't want Daddy thinking I'm a slob.

"Okay, let's start with the easy ones again, hmm?" he says, sitting me on the edge of the bed before picking his first aid kit up from the ground. I don't know when he put it there, but I'm distracted by the feeling of his fingertips gently applying the cold cream to some of the grazes on my arm. It tingles a little, but not badly.

I'm careful not to fidget while Daddy works, rubbing the cream into each wound so gently that I'm almost convinced that this is a massage. But then he unwraps the towel at my waist and spreads a tiny bit of cream over the sore spot on my thigh.

I yowl in pain.

Definitely not a massage.

"Good boy." Daddy wipes his hand on the towel as he reaches back into his little red kit, pulling out some bandages. They're like big, square Band-Aids, only bright white in color. "You only need one on your thigh and one on your elbow," he explains. "The rest of the grazes are fine to heal on their own."

He's just as gentle putting the gauze pads over the wounds as he was doing everything else. Then he places a soft kiss on the one on my elbow, and I'm pretty sure my heart melts.

"Are you okay to get dressed now?"

I've always wanted a Daddy to dress me for bedtime, so I nod enthusiastically. "Please, Daddy? My pajamas are in the middle drawer." I point at the old wooden dresser against the wall. "The tiger ones, please?"

Vince looks surprised all over again, his mouth opening and closing as though he's going to say something, but stops. Giving himself a visible shake, he walks over to the dresser, pulling the drawer open and finding my favorite pajamas easily enough. He hesitates before asking, "Underwear?"

I'm not confident enough to ask him how he feels about diapers on our first time playing together, so I point to the top right drawer where my Big underwear live. They're still brightly colored with cartoon characters on them, but they also have silly sayings that sound a little naughty. The pair Daddy grabs have a bright green python curling over the crotch, with the words Have You Seen My Trouser Snake? written across the butt.

He swallows as he comes to stand in front of me, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Help me put them on, Daddy?"

After clearing his throat, Daddy nods. "Stand up, sweetheart." He kneels as I do, then he stretches out the waistband of my boxer briefs and instructs me to step into the leg holes, one foot at a time. He repeats the process with my soft pajama pants before he pulls both up my legs, then helps the matching T-shirt down over my head, guiding my arms through the armholes.

My head is floaty with joy, my heart beating so hard I'm afraid Vince can hear it.

I really hope he's having fun, too.