Just a bratty girl...

This just keeps getting kinkier and blushier. If anyone wants to message me with further ideas for this, please do. (or even with just encouragement. I keep hitting walls of, "Ack, no, this is too far, I can't write this!")

(Part one)

(Part two)

*

“You’re devious, do you know that?”

Elizabeth sips her coffee, smirking at John. They’re in the kitchen, having left the little ones alone in the living room. He had been unsure of leaving them unsupervised, but she’d tugged him along with her. “They’ll be fine,” she said. She tugged at his arm until he followed her. “He’s gentle.”

Once in the kitchen, she rolled her eyes at him. “It’s like you’ve never set up a play date in your life,” she said.

He craned his neck, still trying to look back into the living room. “I don’t want them to get into mischief.”

Another eye roll. “Isn’t that the whole point?” she said. “I want to know what Dom will do to her if they’re left alone.”

He levelled a suspicious look at her. “I thought you said he’d be gentle?”

“Of course I said that. I needed you to leave the room.”

That’s when he says it: “You’re devious, do you know that?”

There’s a heavy amount of respect in his voice. She smirks and leans back against the counter, coffee mug cradled in both hands. “He gets very, um, enthusiastic around littles,” she says. “Just so excited and so friendly.”

John eyes her skeptically. “Why do I feel like that’s a very polite way of saying, ‘He gets a hard-on’?”

She laughs and toasts him with her mug. “You know me too well,” she says.

*

Cherry flips the pages of her book, not reading a single word. She keeps glancing at the puppy boy out of the corner of her eye. He’s watching her with unnerving intensity. She can hear the murmur of Daddy and Elizabeth’s voices from the kitchen, and she wishes she was in there with them.

A nose nudges her hand and she jumps. The puppy boy is much closer to her now. “You don’t hafta be scared,” he says. “I’m fwendly.” He takes the book from her hands, shuts it, and places it to the side. “I wuv to play wif wittles,” he says.

If she felt more like herself, more like her adult self, more like Cheryl, Cherry would snatch her book back. She’d tell him not to touch her stuff and to speak like a fucking adult while he’s at it.

But she isn’t Cheryl, she’s Cherry, and she feels lost and overwhelmed and too little to do anything.

The puppy licks her face and Cherry giggles. It’s oddly sweet and slightly ticklish. He nuzzles into her and she lets him, and he crawls closer until he’s practically in her lap.

Her stomach jolts unpleasantly when she realises that he’s hard and his thing is poking against her diaper. He doesn’t seem bothered by it and even shifts so it’s pressing harder against her.

“Mistress makes me wear diapees sometimes,” he says, still in his lisping babyish voice. He nuzzles into her neck. His lips move against her skin when he talks. “’Cause I’m just a wittle puppy.” He laughs, loud and sudden. “A wittle widdle puppy.”

He shifts away from her, looks down, and frowns. He squeezes the front of her diaper and Cherry squeaks in alarm. He ignores her and his frown deepens. “It’s s’posed to be wet,” he says.

Cherry pushes him away, pouting. He’s heavier than her and hard to move; she gets the sense that she wouldn’t be able to if he didn’t let her. It’s a bit unnerving, but she sets her jaw and stares him down. “That’s private,” she says. “It’s for me and Daddy, not you.”

With horror, she discovers that she almost finds herself slipping into his speaking patterns. She swallows hard and focuses on talking like a grown-up. No baby talk for her. “Give me space.”

“Mistress said we could pway,” the puppy says. He pushes back into her space, his thing nestled right into the crotch of her diaper this time. “And if you’s not gonna wet your diapee, I’ll do it.”

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