Daddy’s Firm Hand

4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I hesitated, my heart pounding. The playroom stretched before me - cheerful, inviting, and utterly foreign. Stuffed animals smiled from shelves while a rainbow of art supplies beckoned from a low table. It was a child's fantasy, designed to delight and comfort.

And it terrified me.

What was I doing here? A grown woman, an accountant no less, daring to indulge in such frivolity. Doubt clawed at my throat. If I let myself act freely... David would see.

Even though he’d been the one to bring me here, I was still frightened that he might see that beneath my professionalism, I yearned for soft things and nurturing and play. The little girl inside, long buried, trembled at being so exposed.

I should leave. Retreat to spreadsheets and seriousness, to the fa?ade I'd constructed so carefully. Pretend this silly whim had never-

"Candy." David's voice, gentle as a caress, drew my gaze. He stood beside me, tall and solid, blue eyes filled with understanding. "It's okay to feel nervous."

His hand brushed my arm, steadying me as surely as his presence. I breathed in his scent, clean and masculine, letting it ground me.

"This is your space to relax. To be yourself." His lips curved in a soft smile. "There's no right or wrong way to enjoy it."

Tension unspooled from my muscles. Of course he'd sensed my unease, read me so easily after such a short time. And instead of mockery or judgment, he offered reassurance. A safe harbor.

“There’s only one thing I ask. This is a specially constructed space, just for you. I would like to be the one to introduce you to all parts of the room, okay? Don’t go exploring everything when I’m not here.”

“Okay. That’s fair,” I said, nodding vigorously.

“Good.” David gestured towards the art table with its joyful clutter. "Why don't we start with something simple and fun?"

Fun. When was the last time I'd done anything just for the pure enjoyment of it? Put aside deadlines and duties and just . . . played?

I bit my lip, looking from him to that tempting rainbow of crayons and paints. Something tugged behind my breastbone, a sweet ache. Longing. For a moment, I let myself imagine it—sitting beside him, making a mess, not worrying about perfection or productivity. Just creating. Laughing. Being.

Slowly, I nodded.

David led me to the low table, every step measured to match my tentative pace. The art supplies beckoned, chunky crayons and vibrant paints reminiscent of a childhood I'd long since boxed away. Tidily compartmentalized, like the rest of my life.

I reached out, fingers brushing the waxy surface of a purple crayon. The color called to me, rich and regal. Grasping it felt unnatural at first, its thickness awkward in my hand more accustomed to slender pens and precise keystrokes. These were no ordinary coloring crayons. They were huge—probably designed to make the user feel more child-like. As I rolled it between my fingertips, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Nostalgia and novelty intertwined.

Glancing sideways at David, I caught his encouraging nod. Permission to proceed. To play.

I pressed the crayon to paper, a decisive downstroke. The size of the crayon made any kind of precision almost impossible. The line was broad, imperfect. So different from the neat figures and fastidious notes that usually flowed from my hands. I felt my brow furrow, the instinct to correct, refine, redo.

"Don't think," David murmured, his voice a gentle rumble. "Just feel."

Feel. When had I last allowed myself that luxury? Swallowing hard, I dragged the purple across the page, a sweeping arc. Then another, intersecting. Gradually, I built an abstract landscape, colors bleeding together in unplanned harmony.

As I lost myself in the unselfconscious scribbling, something loosened in my chest. A laugh bubbled up, surprising me with its lightness. When had I last giggled like that? Grinned unselfconsciously, not caring how I looked or sounded?

"There you go," David said softly, approval warming his tone. "That's my girl."

His girl. The words settled over me like a cozy blanket, comforting and cherished. I peeked at him from beneath my lashes, cheeks flushed with more than just exertion.

In this space he'd carved out, this time he'd gifted me, I could simply be. Expectations and appearances fell away, leaving only an unencumbered version of myself. Messy. Real. Accepted.

With each stroke of crayon, each splash of paint, I felt lighter. Layers of tension and tightness flaked away. Unnoticed, I began to hum, a childlike tune that had been trapped behind tensed lips for far too long.

"This is . . ." I searched for the right word, realizing I was grinning unabashedly. "Freeing."

"Good," David said, leaning closer to admire my handiwork. "You're doing beautifully."

Under his attentive gaze, my spine straightened a touch. No longer hunched over in self-consciousness, but basking in his praise, his presence.

We continued like that, side by side, shoulders brushing. Quiet camaraderie broken only by the occasional delighted giggle or murmured encouragement. In that pocket of tranquility, something precious blossomed.

Trust. In him, but more importantly, in myself. To be imperfect. To make mistakes. To let my guard down.

As I drew, David rose, retrieving a tray laden with delights. My nose twitched at the delectable aroma, stomach grumbling in anticipation.

"I thought you might be feeling a bit peckish, little one," he said, setting the spread before me. Bite-sized sandwiches, veggie sticks arranged like rainbow spokes, and fruit cut into whimsical shapes - stars, hearts, flowers. A veritable garden of snackable treasures.

But what caught my eye was the cup. Bright purple, my favorite color, with a festive twisty straw and a subtle glitter to the plastic. Childish, in the best possible way. I reached for it, marveling at the lightness, the way it fit perfectly in my grasp.

"Grape juice," David supplied as I took an experimental sip. The sweet tartness danced on my tongue, refreshing and nostalgic all at once. I grinned around the straw, savoring each gulp.

"It's . . . perfect. All of it. Thank you, David. It feels, too good to be true. Overwhelming."

He simply nodded, a satisfied smile playing at his lips. "Take your time, sweetheart. Enjoy."

A sudden thought entered my mind. I thought back to the contract. There was a part about what I should call David.

Daddy.

I decided to try it.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

I think it took him by surprise. For a moment, for the first time ever, it was as though his cool was shaken, like something unexpected had happened.

Then, a broad, pure grin settled on his face.

“You don’t know how good it feels for you to call me that,” he said.

“I like calling you it.”

“That’s wonderful.”

I enjoyed the juice a lot. And the snack, too. Each morsel a burst of flavor, each sip a cool kiss of comfort. I hadn't realized the depths of my hunger, the simple joy of nourishment freely given.

As I ate, content as a cat in a sunbeam, David produced a box. "I have one more activity in mind, if you're up for it."

Curiosity piqued, I leaned forward. He lifted the lid, revealing a jigsaw puzzle, pieces gleaming invitingly. A garden scene, riotous with color.

"Oh!" I gasped, already itching to dive in. "It's beautiful!"

“Sometimes, all we need for a little self-confidence is a reminder that we can do simple things, well.”

“You think I can do the jigsaw?” All of a sudden, my voice sounded small, quiet.

“Of course. I believe in you. Now, why don't we take this to the rug? More room to spread out."

I nodded eagerly, gathering the box. The plush carpet welcomed me, soft beneath my folded legs. I upended the pieces and began sorting edge from center.

David knelt beside me, companionably close. He worked quietly, handing me bits of blue sky and green leafy border. I pieced together vermilion petals, golden sunbeams, a hummingbird's jeweled breast.

We moved in synch, a dance of give and take. David praised my keen eye for patterns, I admired his methodical approach. Shared smiles, gentle hands grazing as we met in the middle.

Time lost meaning amid scattered cardboard and blossoming victory. The outside world shrank away, narrowed to this cozy haven and the puzzle taking shape before us.

As the final piece snicked into place, I sat back and surveyed our combined efforts with unfettered pride. "We did it!" I said, triumphantly, glancing sidelong at David.

He met my gaze, his own warm with quiet approval. "It was mostly you, Babygirl.”

“But you gave me the pieces, Daddy. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

A pause, weighted with unspoken understanding. "You've done wonderfully, Candy. How do you feel?"

I considered, taking internal inventory. Muscles loose, mind placid. Belly full and heart... heart aglow with tentative joy. Unguarded and content, in a way I hadn't known I'd needed.

"I feel . . . safe. Happy." I dropped my eyes, suddenly bashful. "Cared for."

Strong fingers cupped my chin, tilting my face back to his. Blue eyes blazed with sincerity. "You are. Cared for. Cherished. Protected."

His thumb stroked my cheek, a butterfly's breath of sensation. "I'm so very proud of you, sweetheart. For trusting me. For letting yourself have this."

Tears pricked, blurring my vision. I swallowed hard, voice emerging thick. "Thank you, Daddy. For giving me a place to . . . to just be."

"All of you is welcome here, always."

I believed him. In that shimmering instant, defenses lowered and masks discarded, I utterly believed him.

I nuzzled closer, nose pressed to his chest, savoring the spice of his cologne. Drowsy and pliant, I could happily remain here for hours just soaking in his solid warmth. The soothing rumble of his voice vibrated through me as he spoke.

"Such a good girl, being so open and brave." His praise washed over me like a benediction. "I know it's not easy, but you're doing wonderfully."

I hummed, a wordless sound of contentment. The usually restless tempo of my thoughts had gentled, anxieties released for blessed peace. Wrapped in tranquility, I let my eyelids droop, surrendering to the lassitude settling in my limbs.

David's chuckle reverberated in my bones. "Someone's sleepy, hmm?" His fingers combed through my hair, a hypnotic tempo. "It's alright, sweet pea. You can rest now."

Part of me wanted to protest, to cling to consciousness and prolong this perfect moment. But his caress and the burgeoning heaviness pulled me inexorably downward. I could only manage a muzzy mumble. "Don't wanna move."

"Then don't," he assured, smile warm in his words. "I've got you. I'll always catch you when you fall."

Permission granted, I yielded at last, muscles slackening as sleep crept in to stake its claim. Secure in my Daddy's hold, I let the silken darkness cocoon me.

The peace didn’t last long.

I awoke from my sleep, squirming slightly. For a moment, I didn’t know what was going on. Then, I realized—there was huge pressure growing in my bladder. Surely I could hold it a bit longer. David must think I was still asleep.

But the need intensified, refusing to be ignored. Heat crept into my cheeks as embarrassment washed over me. How could I bring this up without sounding childish or breaking the comfortable atmosphere?

David must have sensed my discomfort. He looked at me, his piercing blue eyes filled with gentle concern. "Babygirl woke up?”

His soft voice coaxed the truth from my lips.

"I... I need to use the restroom," I admitted, barely above a whisper. I braced myself for judgment or annoyance, but found only understanding in his gaze.

"Of course," he replied with a reassuring nod. "Would you prefer to use a diaper for convenience? It's entirely up to you."

The unexpected offer caught me off guard. A diaper? The thought sent a conflicting mix of curiosity and hesitation through me. Was I ready for such a step? The unfamiliar territory felt both intriguing and daunting. I quickly pushed the idea aside, not quite prepared to cross that boundary.

"No, thank you," I said politely, managing a small smile. "I'd rather use the bathroom."

David returned my smile, his expression warm and free of any pressure. "No problem at all. Let me show you the way." He gracefully rose to his feet, extending a hand to help me up.

The bathroom was a revelation, a perfect extension of the nurturing atmosphere David had crafted. Soft lighting cast a warm glow, and plush towels in pastel hues invited me to relax. Even the fragrance, a delicate blend of lavender and vanilla, seemed chosen to soothe my nerves.

As I tended to my needs, I couldn't help but reflect on David's unwavering patience and understanding. His offer of the diaper, while unexpected, came from a place of genuine care. He sought to provide comfort and convenience, leaving the choice entirely in my hands. The thought that he prioritized my well-being, even in such intimate matters, stirred a deep sense of gratitude within me.

Washing my hands, I caught my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at me seemed different somehow, her eyes shining with a newfound lightness. The weight of self-doubt and fear had lifted, replaced by a tentative yet growing sense of acceptance. I realized that David's support had given me permission to embrace parts of myself I'd long kept hidden.

Returning to the playroom, David was waiting for me.

“I’m sad to say that our play time for today is at an end.”

I stuck out my lower lip, pouting and angry. “I don’t wanna stop.”

"I know it's hard to leave when you're having a good time," he said gently, his eyes meeting mine with understanding. "But we'll have more sessions like this, I promise."

The sincerity in his words eased the ache in my heart.

"Do we really have to go back already?" I asked, my voice small and tinged with longing. The time had slipped by so quickly, each moment filled with a happiness I'd rarely known.

David's smile was gentle, laced with a touch of playfulness. "I'm afraid so, little one. But remember, you can carry this feeling with you, even when we're apart."

His words were a comforting balm, a reminder that the joy and peace I'd discovered were not confined to these walls. With a nod, I gathered my courage, ready to face the world beyond the playroom door.