Page 28 of Lacey's Daddy
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 shegets 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 theback 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.”
