Page 15 of His Little Hessonite (Eleadian Mates #10)

Chapter Fifteen

Six months later …

Kalbrac

It’s been a whirlwind of activity for the past ten days since we arrived on Eleadia. The first few days were particularly stressful and challenging until Clara found her voice. Ever since then she’s been talking nonstop, which pleases me greatly because I missed her so badly while she was silent.

I don’t mind her chattering. In fact, I relish it. Her voice is musical, even when she’s complaining or arguing with me.

I’ve given her a free pass to argue any point she wants to make up until now. As soon as the doctors declare her to be healthy and recovered enough for me to enforce rules, all bets are off. We are going to the clinic today. Clara knows her window is shrinking.

She has taken advantage of my edict to the fullest, almost making me regret my declaration. It’s not customary for Papis to punish their Littles before they’ve regained some mobility, at least not harshly. It’s also not recommended that we have sex either, and that part has both of us struggling to control our instincts.

Clara is currently in her bouncy seat. I have her well-secured so she doesn’t have the use of her arms because as soon as she regained enough motor control to lift them, I decided I don’t trust her to keep her fingers away from her nipples.

She’s swinging her legs and giggling because she’s pleased with her ability to do so.

I’m grinning, too, equally excited for her.

“I’m sure I could walk if you let me, Papi.” This is her current argument.

I’m standing a few feet from her, making more bottles to put in the fridge. “You’re not ready, Baby girl. It’s out of the question. I would have a heart attack if you fell and hit your head.”

“I won’t fall, Papi,” she whines. “I promise.”

“I know you won’t, Little one, because you won’t have the opportunity.” I fill another bottle and glance at her in time to see her roll her pretty eyes.

“I’ve been doing all my exercises every day, Papi.”

She’s right about that. She works hard. She will undoubtedly be walking in the next few days, and I suspect she could surf the furniture if I let her try. I haven’t allowed it.

She has amazing fine motor skills for this stage, too. She can pick up items and works diligently to improve for hours every day.

The first few days, she slept most of the time, but as soon as she started speaking, she insisted I help her get stronger every waking hour. I’ve allowed her to work hard because it’s not hurting anything, but I’m also aware that as soon as she’s mobile, my life is going to drastically change.

Clara is a force to be reckoned with. She’s high energy and full of life. She has a lot to say and a million questions. She wants to understand her new planet.

She’s a sponge when it comes to our plants, our weather, our homes, and our mode of transportation. I’ve shown her the duocruiser that’s in my garage. She spent a long time asking how the vehicle worked, clapping her hands with excitement. It’s refreshing watching her accept her world.

When she questions me about Littles and how they live, she often gets frustrated, but she’s slowly accepting the restrictions she will live by and acknowledging the submission that will be expected of her.

“What are you cooking tonight, Papi?” she asks me. She’s very inquisitive about food.

I chuckle. “I already told you, and no you may not have any.”

She pushes out her bottom lip in a fake pout. “Why not?”

Moments like this make me regret giving her free rein to argue with me. If the doctor agrees that her progress is substantial, I will no longer permit her to be so argumentative starting this afternoon. “Because Little girls need to spend a long time adjusting to Eleadia with formula only. My naughty Little girl is going to be taking nothing but bottles for at least a year if she doesn’t watch herself.”

“Papi…”

“You should stop asking, Baby girl. When I’m ready, I will introduce one food at a time. You will sit in a high chair with your hands strapped under the tray. I will feed you myself. You will eat nothing but pureed foods for a long time until I’m certain you can chew and swallow without choking. You will not be permitted to feed yourself.”

“Ever?” Her voice is shrill.

“Never, Baby girl. Stop asking.”

She sighs. “That’s silly. We’ll talk about it again.”

I laugh. “We will only be discussing that topic if you want your bottom to be red most of the time.”

Another dramatic sigh. “Papi…” she whines.

I put her bottles in the fridge and turn to her. “I’ve given you a great deal of leeway, Baby girl. If you keep using that whiny tone with me, I will discipline you. I suggest you break the habit now before it becomes too difficult for you to control the urge to whine at Papi.”

She rolls those pretty eyes again. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Sassy girls get spanked, too.”

“Papi…”

I squat down in front of her and palm her diaper. She’s wet. I’m pleased that even though she should be regaining control of her bladder, she’s still keeping her diapers wet. Dankin removed her catheter before we began the journey home, but Little girls do not have control of their bladders upon arrival. At some point after the first week, they usually begin to clench that particular muscle. Some don’t bother to try. Some fight against wetting themselves. And a very few never manage to regain bladder control.

It doesn’t matter in the end because Clara will always be diapered. Whether she wets herself intentionally or doesn’t bother to hold her urine is immaterial as long as she doesn’t hold it.

I tickle her swinging feet, distracting her and making her giggle. “We have an appointment at the clinic today, Baby girl.”

She stops giggling to groan. Even though she already knew this fact, she argues, “Papi, I don’t need to see a doctor. We just saw him last week. I’m fine. I’m not sick or anything.”

I lift her little feet and bend farther to kiss her toes. “You will see the doctor every week for a while until I decide to switch to once a month. Non-negotiable.” I unfasten her from the seat before carefully lifting her out so I can carry her to the nursery to change her. She has enough strength and then some to hold her head up, but I’m a worrier, so I support her head every time I lift her.

As she gets stronger, it gets harder to wrangle her arms above her head and secure her to the changing table. She’s squirmy and tries to avoid being restrained. It’s almost comical since I will never change her without securing her first. If she fell off this table, I would never forgive myself.

I spread Clara’s legs wide and strap her bent knees to the sides of the table, giving her the deep vulnerability she craves. I can already scent her arousal before I open her diaper.

My Little girl tries to pretend she’s unaffected by chattering incessantly. She’s obviously decided to run down her entire agenda in the final hour before we see the doctor.

“I think you need to call for a neighborhood meeting and pass a new rule that women are allowed to wear clothes. Also, you should consider the health benefits of installing bathrooms in your homes. Just because you’ve never had bathrooms before doesn’t mean you couldn’t add them. How big of a deal could it possibly be to put in bathrooms?”

I chuckle. Her arguments are futile, but I let her continue because her debates are humorous.

“Also we could get jobs, you know. Think of all the various things women are capable of doing. We could be contributors to society. If I were to work, we would have twice the household income.”

I have her diaper off, and I’m cleaning her pussy. I realize I haven’t explained our barter system yet. “We don’t use currency here, Little one. You working would change nothing. We trade our goods and services with others in a perfect balance.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yep. When I go back to work in a few days, people will benefit from my skills as a communications director. That allows me to get the pretty stones I’ve ordered for your nipple rings, collar, and harness. Meanwhile, Ekert can get his furniture from our friend Strogan and so on down the line.”

She gasps. “You already ordered my jewelry?”

“Yes.”

“Even those other things?”

I bend over and kiss her tummy, trying not to laugh. “Yes, Baby girl. In a few days, we will go to his house so he can pierce your little titties and we pick up the harness and collar.”

We haven’t discussed the adornments a single time since arriving. I know Clara avoided the topic on purpose. I suspect she’s thought about it frequently, but she’s nervous about how the items make her feel.

I’ve thought about collaring her a million times. Every time I look at her, I visualize the dainty hessonite gems around her neck or cupping her breasts. I can’t wait to tether her to my side. I’m certain she will enjoy the sensation.

When I finish changing her, I release her and lift her once more. This time I carry her to the stroller, strap her into it with a five-point harness, and restrain her wrists to her sides.

She struggles as I complete that last part. “Papi, I won’t touch my titties. I promise.”

“We’ll see what the doctor says about me disciplining you. If he gives me the green light to punish you when you’re naughty, I’ll stop restraining your hands so often.” I grab the diaper bag and push her out of the house.

We will walk to the clinic. It’s not far. Only a few blocks. And I know Clara enjoys being outside.

She kicks her feet as we head down the street. “I still can’t get over the colors. There’re so many. It’s beautiful. And the sky is so clear. You don’t have any smog. Even when it rains, it’s pretty.”

I push her slowly. We have plenty of time, and I know she likes to look around.

“Oh, what’s that, Papi?” she asks as a critter scampers across the sidewalk and disappears into the foliage.

“That was a shama. It’s sort of similar to the bunnies you have on Earth.”

She squeals in delight. “He was so cute. Can we get one? Can we get a pet?”

I chuckle. “No, Baby girl. We don’t domesticate any of our animals on this planet. We let them live in harmony. We don’t disturb them at all. They’re all part of the perfect balance of our ecosystem.”

“Poop. No pets?”

“No pets, Little one. You have to enjoy the animals in their natural habitat.”

“And you don’t eat any of them either?”

“Nope. We are a plant-based society. We don’t eat our animals.”

“If I sit in the backyard really still and quiet, will I get to see some creatures?”

I laugh. “Do you think you could ever sit still and quiet?”

She gasps dramatically. “Papi, I can be quiet and still.”

“I haven’t seen evidence of it, Little one.” I’m grinning. I love her to pieces. I’m incredibly lucky because she has not spent the last ten days angry and surly about having been yanked off her planet and relocated to another. That’s the norm among Little girls. It’s difficult for most of them to accept their new lives. In addition, many of them struggle harder with submission and regression. They all come around eventually. Fate doesn’t make mistakes. She picks the perfect mate for all of us. No one has ever returned with their mate and found her unable to eventually come around to our customs.

She claps her hands and giggles again. “What’s that one, Papi?”

I lean over to see where she’s looking and follow her line of sight. “Ah, that’s a lanau.”

“It looks kind of like a squirrel.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

“And no one is mean and kills them?” She twists around to look at me. “Do your people have guns? Do they kill each other?”

“No, Baby girl. We do not have guns on this planet. We are a peaceful people. Crime is very rare here.”

She sits back. “Huh. I think I’m going to like it here.”

I grin all the rest of the way to the clinic. I’m certain she’s going to like it here, and I’m so damn grateful to have found her.