Page 10 of Baron's Boo-Boo
“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 justwant 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.
