Page 3 of Daddy Dreadful (Forbidden Pleasures Island #5)
Chapter Three
Millie
So far, this work trip is nothing like I expected.
Then again, I’ve been working for Doctor D long enough to know better than to have expectations at all. Just when I think I’ve got him figured out, he throws me for a loop.
But cuddling on his lap after a spanking with my favorite stuffie cradled in my arms is still so far from anything I could have anticipated I’m not sure what to think.
I know he says it’s just because he doesn’t want me dropping during the conference, but some fucked up, hidden part of me wants it to be so much more than that.
You don’t want him for a Daddy, remember? You want a sweet, snuggly Daddy who will spoil you rotten and only spanks when you’ve been extra naughty.
Right. The Daddy of my dreams is the complete opposite of Donovan in every possible way. Although he hasn’t had a Little of his own while I’ve worked for him, I’ve seen him with the other Littles enough to know that he would be a very strict Daddy. Impossibly strict. Which isn’t what I want at all.
Right?
I’m still rolling all that around in my mind when Kerry comes over to tell us we need to buckle our seatbelts. Donovan helps me shift over to my seat and, in yet another surprise move, he pulls the belt across my lap to buckle it into place.
Feeling more than a little rattled by his tender attention, I turn to look out the window as the ground rises up to greet us. And for the first time since I agreed to this trip, excitement bubbles in my stomach.
New York City stretches out below us in all its shining, shimmering glory.
This is my first, and probably last time visiting the Big Apple and I have so many plans for sightseeing once the conference is over and Donovan is on his way back to the island.
I didn’t really have much use for my salary back on the island considering my apartment was covered as part of my employment contract, so I’ve got a significant savings account that I’ve built up over the past year.
That, plus the generous severance package he’ll be paying me is more than enough for me to take some time and simply enjoy life before finding somewhere new to settle down.
There’s a ranch out in Montana I’ve heard about. A safe place for Littles to be as Little as they want. And if the online chatter is to be believed, Rawhide is kind of magical. Maybe I’ll spend some time there and find the gentle, loving, Daddy of my dreams.
But as my daydreams play out, the Daddy in my imagination shifts and morphs into someone familiar.
Someone stern and strict, with a hand as hard as a paddle.
Instead of the sweet Daddy I’ve always wanted, it’s Donovan Graves taking on that role, telling me what a naughty Little girl I’ve been as he straps me to an exam table in his cold, sterile office.
Jerking myself out of that unexpected daydream, I focus on the city below us, running my post-conference itinerary through my head. A Broadway show, of course, followed by a fancy meal somewhere. And I’ll have to go to all the touristy places. The Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty.
Maybe I’ll just spend a couple weeks here before heading out west. See everything the city has to offer before finding that perfect Daddy to settle down with.
The city disappears from view and a few minutes later we’re treated to a somewhat bumpy landing as our plane coasts into the small, private airport everyone on the island uses when flying in and out of the city.
It isn’t until I unbuckle my seatbelt and hop from my seat that I remember I’m wearing a diaper.
A diaper that absolutely will not fit under the skintight jeans I chose for the flight.
Dammit.
“I need to change back into my clothes.”
Donovan stops in the act of rolling his sleeves back down and buttoning them into place, one brow raising. “You may put your pants back on, but you are not wearing those panties.”
“But the jeans won’t fit over the diaper. They’re too tight.”
If I’m being honest, they’re a bit too tight even without the diaper. The bakery back on the island makes their own donuts fresh every morning and I’ve been indulging a bit too often lately. Maybe if I stay in New York, I’ll be able to walk off a few pounds.
Right now, however, I’m faced with a dilemma. I really don’t want to disobey Donovan and earn another spanking, but I’m not really sure what to do.
With his sleeves rolled back into place, Donovan picks up his suit jacket, and I swear I see the smallest hint of a smile on his lips before he’s his usual stern self. “Well, it’s lucky for you I came prepared. Kerry, will you get my duffel bag, please?”
For a moment, all I can do is stare. “You came prepared for what, exactly?”
“To remind you that even though we are not on the island, you are still a very Little girl and you will behave as such for as long as you are under my employ.”
Kerry returns, carrying a small black duffel, which she hands off to Donovan. With a nod of thanks, he places the bag on the seat behind him and unzips it.
Inside are clothes. Not just clothes but Little clothes.
“What the hell is this?”
Glancing up, he pins me with a glare that has me shrinking back, Cobie clutched so tightly to my chest I would swear I can hear him squeak in protest. “You are making me rethink my decision not to address your language earlier, Camilla.”
“Sorry, Sir.” The apology is rushed, breathless. The last thing I want is a date with his “Naughty Girl Potion”. “I’m just… confused. Why do you have Little girl clothes in your duffel bag?”
“I told you. I came prepared.”
Letting out a short, frustrated scream, I stomp my foot, which isn’t doing anything to help my “I’m a Big girl” case, but I’m too annoyed with him to care. “But why ? You couldn’t have known I wouldn’t want to wear my diaper or be Little.”
The corner of his lips kicks up in a knowing smirk. “I always keep these around in the event you need reminded of your place. I’ve had this bag stashed away in my office since the first day you came to work for me.”
My mouth falls open at that piece of news. “You what ?”
“You heard me. Until now, you’ve never given me a reason to need any of these items. Even on your most stressful days at the office, you always remembered you were just a Little girl under your scrubs. But obviously today you need a bit more of a reminder.”
I’m still reeling from the news that he’s apparently had a small wardrobe stashed in his office just for me when he pulls a short, fluffy skirt from the bag and my brain glitches, torn between utter delight at the adorable piece of clothing and horror at being forced to wear such an obviously Little thing outside of the island.
For now, horror wins out. “Absolutely not. I can’t wear that in public!”
“Trust me, Camilla,” he says with a condescending chuckle that makes me want to slap that stupid smug smile off his face. “In a city the size of New York, nobody is going to blink twice at a sweet Little thing like yourself dressed in a cute skirt.”
“Did you just call me sweet?”
Pulling a pale pink shirt from the bag, he looks over his shoulder, one brow raised as if I’m somehow the one who’s being ridiculous. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re very sweet. Most of the time.”
“Okay, seriously, what’s wrong? Do you have one of those weird brain tumors that completely changes your personality or something?”
The glare he sends my way tells me he clearly doesn’t appreciate my wit. “I do not.”
As if this whole situation hasn’t been bizarre enough, he shocks me even further by crouching down in front of me and holding the skirt out so I can step into it. I’m so shocked, in fact, that I automatically do exactly as he silently bids me to and he pulls the skirt up over my diaper.
“Arms up, little one.”
I hesitate, tightening my hold on Cobie. But instead of scolding me, Donovan’s expression softens. “Cobalt can sit right here on your seat until you’re done getting dressed.”
He reaches for my stuffie, but I take a small step back, tears filling my eyes. “Don’t wanna.”
“He’ll be safe, little one. I promise. Do you trust me?”
That’s a hell of a question. Do I trust him? I don’t particularly like him, and I’m still not sure exactly what’s going on.
But I do trust him not to let anything bad happen to me. More, I trust that he won’t let anything bad happen to Cobie. So with a slow nod, I force myself to hand Cobie over so Donovan can tuck him gently into the seat beside me.
And then, to my complete and utter shock, Donovan pulls the seatbelt over Cobie’s stomach, strapping him in. “There. Now he won’t run off.”
I’m too shocked by the sweet gesture to protest as he instructs me to raise my arms so he can strip off my t-shirt off and replace it with the pink one from his bag.
This one is covered with little frolicking rabbits instead of the graphic tee I’d chosen for myself, the one with a cute cartoon kitten wearing headphones with the phrase “True Crime and Chill” underneath.
The finishing touch is a pair of stockings that come up to my mid-thigh, just below the edge of the skirt, and a pair of pink Mary Janes. The stockings are white to match the frilly skirt, with pink ribbons that match the bunny shirt and the shoes.
Taking a step back, Donovan runs an appraising gaze over me, and I can’t help but fidget a bit under his stare.
“Sit.”
He points to the floor and when I don’t immediately move he sighs and gives me a light swat to my frill-covered bottom. Even though it doesn’t really hurt, I yelp and hurry to take a seat on the floor in front of his chair.
And then he does the absolute last thing I would have ever expected.
He brushes my hair.
It’s not just that he brushes it. He brushes out all the tangles and then twists it into the most perfect French braid I’ve ever seen. When he hands me his phone so I can check my hair in the camera, I can’t help but stare at myself.