Babygirl Pt. 01

Author's note: This is a fictional DDlg series involving consenting partners in their thirties. CWs for the entire series include period play, diaper play, piss play, suppositories, spanking, belting, humiliation, anal, and edging--but also lots of kisses, cuddles, and love :)

PART 1

"Daddy!" I shout from the bathroom, head in my hands, feeling like I'm fourteen years old again--embarrassed and disgusted and mildly frightened by the literal massacre in my panties.

I hear Daddy's heavy steps on the stairs, taking them two at a time. They slow as he nears the closed bathroom door.

"What's wrong, babygirl?" He pokes his head in, understanding immediately. "Oh, babygirl."

I drop my head back in my hands. "We just bought these!"

"Hey," he says, pushing all the way in then and kneeling down to plant a kiss on my forehead. "We'll buy new ones, it's no big deal." He moves to pick them up and I recoil.

"Daddy, that's gross. Please, I'll take care of them--"

"Babygirl," he says in warning. "If I hear that word one more time today, your period will be the least of your problems."

I blow out a frustrated breath. Since the day I became his babygirl, Daddy has made it his mission to convince me that there's nothing my body does that I should find embarrassing or the g-word. My period is a function he feels particularly defensive of--always reminding me that it's just a little blood. And just another excuse for him to take care of me.

Daddy steps away and returns a moment later, box of tampons in one hand, wet wipes in the other. I reach for them and he tuts, kneeling in front of me.

"You know better, babygirl."

I go beet red. "Daddy, please--"

"Little girl, this is only the millionth time you've gotten a period around here. Spread your legs, come on. Don't make this harder."

I whimper, doing as I'm told.

"I know it embarrasses you," he says softly as he slips a wiped hand beneath me. "But this has got to be less embarrassing than when I have to wipe your mess away after one of your naughty enemas--"

"Daddy, can't they both be equally horrible?" I ask, eyes fluttering closed as he wipes me meticulously, paying special attention to my clit, eliciting a whimpered moan.

"You do look like you're having a truly horrible time. You have my sympathies."

"Daddy!" I whine and he flicks my clit, causing me to gasp in pain.

"Watch your tone, babygirl. Open up," he says then, dropping the bloodied wipes in the trash and reaching for one of the tampons.

I flush with fresh embarrassment as Daddy nudges the tampon into my swollen, sensitive pussy. He slides the plastic applicator inside me, and I actually believe he's going to be good for once--until he begins to thrust it further.

"Daddy!" I cry out as he fucks me with the tiny thing, just small enough to feel nothing but extreme mortification. Then, when his other hand snakes around to find my bottom hole, more desperately: "Daddy--"

"You're blushing, little one."

"Daddy, it's making me cramp," I insist, and I do have cramps--even if they have nothing to do with his treatment--so it's not totally a lie. "Please, please--"

"Okay, okay," he says, stopping his assault and using the applicator to fully insert the tampon. Then he discards the plastic in the trash and lifts me off the toilet, guiding me--completely bottomless--out into the room. "On the bed, little one."

"Advil, Daddy!"

"It's coming, babygirl. Go lay on the bed before you find yourself bent over it."

I sigh, stomping to our king bed and laying back on it with my knees raised, hoping to god Daddy will be holding a pair of panties when he appears between my legs a moment later.

He's not, of course. He steps up holding a fluffy white diaper and I bang my hands out on the bed before whipping them up to cover my face.

"I won't leak this time, Daddy!"

"You say that every time and every time you ruin more of your pretty panties and you're grumpy about it for weeks. Come on, bottoms up."

"What about my Advil?"

"It's coming," he snaps. "And I'm getting a little tired of repeating myself."

I bite my tongue, knowing I've already pushed him further than I usually get away with. Since it appears there's no getting out of this, I resort to squeezing my eyes shut as Daddy lifts my legs and slides the diaper beneath me.

Next I hear him rustling with some packaging and I hold my hand out, expecting Advil. Instead, I feel something push against my hole and I freeze.

"Da-ddy-yy!" I whine and he slaps the inside of my thigh, silencing me.

"Quiet, babygirl. You know it works faster like this."

"You said you wouldn't do it like this anymore!"

"I said," he hisses, slapping me hard on the ass this time, causing me to yelp. "That we would talk about graduating to taking medicine like a big girl when you start acting like one, which you are clearly not. But if this is the reason you want to give me to turn this morning from pampering to punishment, be my guest."

I groan, rolling my head back, screwing my eyes shut as Daddy slowly slides the first ibuprofen suppository into my bottom, followed by a second. And of course, he doesn't stop there.

He pushes his finger further into me, teasing me with slow, greased thrusts and I moan, wriggling, whimpering.

"I know you think it's embarrassing, babygirl," he says almost lovingly as he continues to finger me. "Just remember that there is no part of you that I haven't touched, taken care of, pleasured, or punished, is there?"

"N-no, Daddy."

"In fact," he says then, moving another finger to my clit. "I seem to remember a time about twenty-eight days ago when you came while I was giving you this very medicine--"

"Daddy," I groan, begging him not to remind me. Last month he'd nudged a vibrating egg up behind my suppositories and held me against his chest while a violent orgasm racked me--causing my juices to leak around my tampon, leaving behind red tinged marks on his sweatpants.

He wears those sweatpants often--the stains a rust-colored smudge on his right thigh, looking to outsiders like he spilled some ketchup or a few drops of paint. Daddy knows the truth, of course, and yet he still wears the stains like they're a badge of honor.

"They are," Daddy had said simply when I asked him about it once. "They remind me I have a living, breathing, well-loved little girl in my life. Most men aren't so lucky."

Daddy tuts as I writhe beneath him now, tormented as he continues to finger my bottom and rub my clitty--dragging me kicking and screaming to the edge. "Does that feel good, babygirl?"

"Daddy, don't make me come like this, please--"

"Not like this," he repeats, slapping down hard on my clit and I yelp. "Since when are you allowed to have an opinion about when and how Daddy makes you come?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I whimper, covering my face with my hands, knowing even my deep shame doesn't stand a chance against my impending orgasms. I lift my hips up to meet Daddy's fingers, core clenching, body tightening, about to explode--and he chuckles.

"Are you sure you don't want to come, baby? You know it does wonders for pain relief."

I can't speak, right at the edge, head rolling, legs shaking, unable to hold it back any longer--and then his touch disappears.

I cry out, humping the air, searching for him, but I only find rough hands pushing me back down to the bed.

"Alright, you win," he says innocently. "No coming just yet, babygirl."

I release another frustrated cry, knowing there's no point in telling him how close I was. He knows, which is precisely why he pulled away. The war between my brain and my body is one that has long amused Daddy, especially since--in the end--my body always wins. Daddy makes sure of it.

He pulls the thick cotton up between my legs and fastens the diaper. Then he tucks me in on his side of the bed and tells me he'll be right back.

I pout, pressing my legs together as my clit throbs painfully. Then I lift the comforter up and poke at the puffy diaper, mortified to realize I feel a slick warmth between my thighs. I quickly stick my hand in to make sure it's not blood, relieved--albeit embarrassed--to see it's just arousal when I pull my finger back. Then I pull the comforter up to my neck when I hear Daddy coming up the stairs, knowing I'd be in for the spanking of a lifetime if he so much as suspected I'd been playing in my diaper.

Daddy lifts the comforter up himself when he returns to the room and presses a heating pad on my lower tummy. My embarrassment about my situation fades as I watch him tuck the comforter back around me and crack open a can of ginger ale--slipping a twirly straw inside and setting it on the nightstand.

It's easy to take for granted how beautiful Daddy is when I see him every day. But there's something about him now as he stands over me, with his simple white shirt and his cozy black sweats and his sleep-rumpled beard and bed head. When he hands me the remote a moment later, I smile up at him.

"I love you, Daddy."

His stormy eyes drop suspiciously to mine. "Whatever you're up to, babygirl, I suggest you quit while you're ahead."

My eyes go wide and watery, his words a literal dagger to my heart. I throw my head back against the headboard, rattling it under my force. "I'm not up to anything!"

"That's it," he snaps, ripping the comforter back and grabbing me by the arm as I resort immediately to begging.

"Daddy! Daddy! I'm sorry! Please!"

I'm flipped over within seconds, chest pushed down into the bed by one of his hands while the other rips the diaper over my bottom, spanking me hard as I shriek and kick my legs.

"You will watch how you talk to me for the rest of the day," he growls between spanks. "One more hint of attitude and there'll be a bar of soap up your bottom, do you understand me?"

"Ye-es, Daddy!" I cry out, the sheets a damp mess beneath my head now, and Daddy pulls my diaper back into place. Then he lifts me by my arms and sets me back in sitting position against the headboard, putting the heating pad back over my lower belly and the remote back in my hand.

I'm still sniffling and pouting, refusing to turn the TV on, and Daddy tips my chin up with his finger. I fight the urge to jerk my head away.

"I know you're having a hard time, little girl, but that doesn't mean you get to drag everyone else down with you."

I feel suddenly teary again. "I was just trying to tell you I loved you!"

He blinks, face falling. "Babygirl." He leans down then and presses his forehead to mine, brushing at my tears with his thumb. "I love you, too. More than life itself."

"You said I must be up to something!" I remind him and his eyes flutter closed.

"You're right, baby. That wasn't very trusting, was it?"

I cross my arms. "I'm not bad all the time, you know."

"Of course you're not," he says. Then, with a teasing grin: "Just like 75% of the time."

"Hey!" I say, but after just one look at his mischievous smile, I'm grinning, too.

"Even if you were bad 100% of the time, I'd still love you, babygirl. You know I love punishing bratty little bottoms."

My entire body flushes because I am well aware of all the things Daddy likes to do to bratty bottoms and I can say from the raging hard on it gives him that he does, indeed, love it. The bratty bottom herself, however, has mixed feelings. Even if Daddy finds her pussy dripping all the way through her torture.

"Let's reset, okay?" he says then. "I have to catch up on some things for work--"

I pout at this news. "But it's Saturday!"

"But," he says over me with another warning glare. "I'll be back to change your tampon in a few hours. I want you to watch a nice relaxing movie until then and Daddy will take care of you the rest of the day, okay?"

I nod. "Okay, Daddy."

"Good girl," he says. Then, as he heads to the door, he points to the TV. "PG only. Love you, babygirl."

"Love you, Daddy," I say back, blowing him a kiss. He catches it and pretends to eat it, which always makes me giggle.

Once he's left the room, I grab my ginger ale and settle further back down under the comforter--scrolling through the movies in our streaming apps, staying in the princesses and musicals side of their inventories.

Daddy's rating rule isn't as infantilizing as it sounds--he just knows that with all the options out there, I'll probably spend the next three hours looking for a movie instead of actually watching one. If I limit my search to the kids' stuff, I'll be rewatching a nostalgic favorite within minutes.

As the ibuprofen begins to officially kick in, I breathe out a sigh of relief, deciding on Anastasia. Then I smile to myself, sipping on my ginger ale, feeling snug as a bug in a rug.

***

I've been singing along and sipping my bubbly drink for about an hour and a half when I feel a rush of liquid between my legs. I slip a hand quickly into my diaper to make sure I'm not leaking again. Having a spotless diaper all day today is going to be my only shot at getting out of this treatment next month.

I curse as I pull my hand back, finding my finger stained with blood.

My eyes dart to the clock across the room. Daddy said he'd be up in a few hours, but it hasn't even been two. If I wait another whole hour to change this thing, I'll surely bleed right through.

I wander over to the doorway, calling down the stairs. "Daddy?"

There's no answer.

"Daddyyy?" I call louder.

Nothing.

I sigh, figuring he's probably busy in a meeting. As I feel another rush between my legs, I decide I don't have a choice but to deal with this now.

I hurry to the bathroom, pulling the saturated tampon from my pussy and quickly replacing it with a new one. I've just wrapped the new applicator in a generous roll of toilet paper and buried it deep in the trash when I hear Daddy's heavy steps padding up the stairs.

I panic, ripping the diaper back up my legs and running out of the bathroom.

"Sorry, babydoll," he says as he swings into the doorway. "I was just wrapping up a call--" His words cut short when he catches sight of me darting back to the bed.

I slip under the covers and yank them over my head. Then I listen carefully, heart pounding in my chest.

Daddy is completely still for a moment. Then I hear him moving toward the bathroom--lifting the lid to the trash can. I blow out an anxious breath, relieved to know I so thoroughly hid the applicator. That relief soon gives way to sheer panic as I hear what sounds like rustling--the man is rustling through the trash.

A moment later, the bathroom door slams shut and Daddy's steps are storming in my direction.

The covers are ripped off of me and I'm dragged by the ankle over the side of the bed, reduced to sobs as he yanks my diaper down. Then I hear the telltale jangle of his belt buckle.

"Daddy, no!" I shriek, scrambling to get away from him.

"Unless the next word out of your mouth is your safe word, you're going to get exactly what you've been begging for all morning, young lady." With that, he grabs me by the hips, pulling me right back down into place and I cry out, pleading with him.

"But I'm on my period!"

"I don't care if you're on your deathbed you bratty girl, this kind of behavior is never allowed in this house and you know it. Here I was thinking we'd have a nice day watching all your favorite movies and spoiling you with orgasms and chocolates and cuddles and instead, as usual, I have to be Mr. Mean Daddy spanking his bratty little girl's bottom when she's already in discomfort. Do you think Daddy likes always being the bad guy around here?"

"No-oo, Daddy--"

The belt cracks down and I shriek, burying my head in my hands.

"You're already dripping through your fresh tampon, you filthy thing."

A second stroke slams against my bottom, and I cry even harder, kicking my legs and releasing another series of pleas for him to stop, even as I feel my clitty and holes spasm and pant and beg for attention.

I know that there's only one word Daddy will actually stop for. A word that, even as I'm sobbing and squirming away from him, we both know I won't use--because as much as I hate the belt, I've had some of my most powerful orgasms during the punishment poundings that follow. Daddy knows this, reaching out to drizzle ice cold lube on my bottom now and I moan in displeasure, silenced by two more hard strikes of the belt. Then Daddy's cock rams into my hole, taking me completely off guard, and I gasp.

His thrusts are slow and torturous at first, then they pound faster, and harder, and Daddy continues to spank at my ass with his belt as he does it, reducing me to ugly, snotty tears.

"Look what you've made me do," he growls as he fucks me until my entire body is slamming into him. "Bouncing your striped ass in Daddy's face, making him hard and horny when he's supposed to be punishing you."

"I-I'm s-sorry, D-Daddy--"

"What are you sorry for, babygirl?" he snaps with another strike of the belt and I rear back, crying out.

"For ch-changing my t-tampon, D-Daddy--"

"And?"

"And t-trying to h-hide it--"

"And?" he shouts, thrusting so hard into me I scream, feeling it then--that slow seep of pleasure, crawling through my veins, spreading through my limbs, overpowering even the sharp sting of the belt.

"I-I-I--"

"For being a brat since the moment you woke up," Daddy supplies. "You've really put the baby in babygirl this morning and you're not going to like what I plan to do about it."

The pleasure grows then, turning my body into putty in Daddy's arms as he grips me by the hips to keep me upright, continuing to pound into me. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold off and Daddy knows.

"Don't you dare come, you naughty girl."

I panic. "Daddy, please--!"

"Daddy," he hisses, thrusting harder. "Said. No." He collapses on top of me then, groaning as he pulses inside me, his slowing pace sobering me to the stinging of my bottom cheeks.

I cry quietly, sore and still wound tight as my orgasm shrivels away. He wraps his arms around me, pulling us both down onto the bed and holding me against his chest as I continue to twitch and sob.

Daddy keeps his cock inside my bottom until he's completely soft. Then he slowly rolls me over, pulling himself from me in the process and propping my bottom high in the air so I don't spill.

He whispers admonishments to me as he rubs my anti-swelling cream across my stinging skin, but I can't make out a word. Everything sounds so muffled--everything feels so numb. Then I feel the diaper being pulled back over my bottom and I'm twisted back against the headboard, feeling Daddy's come trickling out of my hole and pooling between my legs.

"Did you hear me, babygirl?"

I blink, looking up at him, his next words snapping me from my dazed state.

"I said this morning's little stunt has lost you bathroom privileges for the rest of the day."

Shame and mortification rack me. My eyes widen, fresh tears welling in them, and he brushes a thumb over my trembling lower lip.

"What do you say, naughty girl?"

"I-I c-can't--"

He tuts. "Try again, young lady."

I drop my eyes, cheeks burning in embarrassed defeat. "Y-yes, Daddy."

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2