Page 13 of Lacey's Daddy
“Do you think you can lower your hands so Daddy can examine you, sweet girl?”
I think about his request. “I’m…”
“You’re what, Little one?”
“I’m small,” I murmur.
“I can see that you’re underweight. You haven’t been getting enough to eat for a long time. As soon as I check you out and give you a warm bath, I’m going to feed you a bottle of formula. It’s going to fill your tummy and help you start to put on weight, but I only want you to be healthy, Lacey. I don’t care how big your boobies are.”
I giggle when he says boobies. I can’t believe he’s made me laugh.
“What?” he teases. “You don’t like the word boobies?”
I giggle louder. “It’s silly.”
“Lots of Littles call their breasts boobies when they’re feeling very Little.”
I can’t stop smiling.
He eases back, pausing to plant a kiss on the back of my hands, one at a time. “Lower your hands for Daddy,” he orders.
I ease my hands down to my sides, mostly because I don’t like to disobey him. I want him to be pleased with me.
“Good girl.” He gently lifts my wrist first and examines it again. “How long ago did this happen?”
“Two nights ago.”
“Is that the same time he kicked you in the stomach?” He lowers my hand and carefully prods my tummy like earlier.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I thought you were going to call me Daddy.”
I bite the very corner of my lip and let it pop free. “Yes, Daddy.”
He grins. “That’s my good girl.” He lifts my arms up above my head and examines my torso, letting his gaze roam all over my chest and tummy. “Did he only kick you once?”
“That night,” I murmur.
He gently prods my ribs on the other side. “There’s some older bruising here from about a week ago, right?”
I nod.
“Has he ever broken a bone, Little one?”
I shrug.
He inhales slowly. I suspect it’s hard for him not to get outwardly angry. “He’s never taken you to a doctor or the hospital after he hits you?”
“No.”
“Do youthinkyou’ve ever had a broken bone, Baby girl?”
“Maybe. Sometimes my ribs have hurt for a long time. Once I think there was a break in my wrist. Luckily the bone wasn’t dislocated, or so I assume. I was really careful with it for a few months. It hurt worse than this time, so I don’t think it’s broken this time.”
He moves down to my legs, feeling my thighs and lower to my feet. “I want you to turn over for me, Little one.”
Tears well up. This keeps happening. I can’t stop crying tonight. I don’t want him to see my back.
