Dominant Fireman Daddy by Scott Wylder

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

 

 

Frank

I can’t sleep and go out into the front room.  I consider seeing if there is any pizza left, maybe some cereal.  Then I hear her. I hear the quiet little moans from down the other side of the house.  If the TV were going or anything else, I would not be able to hear.  Maybe I am just hyper aware of a woman’s pleasure.  I stop, trying not to move. Trying to will it to keep happening. Willing myself not to make a sound so I can hear her again. I hear another moan.  A ruffling of blankets and some heavy breathing. I feel all the blood rushing to my cock. I have to lean against the counter, so I don’t fall over. I want to join her, but I already told her no.  I want to keep this one.  No matter how cute she is, she must wait.  She also needs to learn to tell the truth and to stay out of trouble. 

She quiets and there is a squeak in the bed.  She will be able to sleep now.  I am glad she feels comfortable enough to let herself go like that, comfortable enough to sleep. Now I am going to have to take care of something here too if I’m going to sleep. 

In the morning, I shower and get dressed bright but not too early.  I am so used to sleeping at the station these last few weeks, it was nice to wake up in my own bed.  I go to the front room and Talia is under the bear blanket and cuddled up.  Her thumb is in her mouth.  The TV is a colorful pony show on low volume. Even with her nighttime activities, she still couldn’t sleep. 

I creep into the kitchen and start some coffee.  I start the waffle batter.  She doesn’t stir until she smells the waffle iron.

“Hey, there sleepy head” I say.

“What time is it?” She asks rubbing her eyes.  She gets up and heads towards a stool under the bar of the kitchen watching me make her waffles. Her hair is all askew.  She is in a white onesie pajama set with pink and purple butterflies.

I look at the oven clock. “It’s nearly 9:30. So it’s not late, but it’s not early.” 

“It’s just right.  Like the Goldilocks of morning.” She says sleepily.

“Would you like some coffee?  Milk?  Coffee with milk?  Sugar?” I ask.

“I maybe a Little, but this Little Lady needs her wakey wakey juice.  Coffee with cream. Half and half if you got it. No sugar.” She says and gently taps the bar like she’s in a saloon in the Old West.

“Coming right up, Miss.”  I pour her coffee. I do happen to have half and half.  That’s how I take my coffee too.  Is it overly romantic to think this is destiny?

I try to find a cute mug.  I have the “manly” ones in front all gray, white, and some with sports teams or some snarky joke.  I find one in the back with a sleepy smiley face.  It will do.  Just as I hand her the coffee, the waffle dings.  I set her out her waffle with butter and syrup. Doctor says I’ve got to watch my sugar intake, so I just fry some eggs up and have some toast. She quietly eats her food humming to herself in between bites just as pleased as she can be.  I eat my breakfast over the sink, like usual.  We enjoy the comfortable silence of two people who both know it is too early for words.

As soon as I pour both of us a second cup, it is time that I ask her some serious questions.

“Let’s go over to the living room, shall we?”  I ask. “You can bring your mug.”  I don’t say “make sure you don’t spill.”  She is a Little, but she is still and adult. She comes over and sits on one end of the couch. She sets her coffee mug on a coaster.  She does have manners. She is settling in for a conversation she is not going to like. I’m glad she is draping the blanket over her because I don’t think I could be serious with only flimsy pajamas between us.

“Are you ready to talk about yesterday?” She makes a face of a child who has to explain how all the cookies disappeared. “Now, Talia. We are going to have to talk like grown ups for a second.  We have to set some boundaries if this is going to work.  First rule is that we have to tell the truth.”

“I’m not ready to tell you yet.”  She says straight in my face without flinching.  This I believe.

“Can you at least tell me some things so I can protect you, please?” I ask.  She rolls her eyes. I lower my voice. “Talia, if you didn’t try to hurt you, did someone push you?” I ask.

She squirms.  I’m getting close. “No.  I was not pushed.”

“Was someone chasing you and you dove in the canal to get away?”  I ask. She squirms. “Tell the truth.” She freezes and is silent. “Look.  I am sure you are in some kind of trouble.  You don’t appear to have a job that you have to check in with. You already said you don’t have a home. Are you in some kind of legal trouble? Because if that is the case, I can’t let you stay here…”

“No. I am not in legal trouble.” She volunteers. The threat of having to leave seems to motivate her.

“Okay, so you are not in legal trouble.  Is the person that is after you?  The one who made you flee into the canal, are they in legal trouble?”  She is silent. I will have to lay down the law, like a Daddy. “Today is my day off, so I have all day to wait.  So, you are going to tell me, or you are not getting off that couch.” She is twisting the end of the blanket in her hands. “You need to tell me what is going on so I can protect you.”  She just continues to look away and twist the blanket.  She is part scared; part obstinate. The latter I can remedy.

“In the meantime, while you decide to tell the truth, we are going to have some rules around here.”  Instead of a heavy sigh like the insolent teenager she’s been acting like since I met her, she is attentive and even soothed like an eager Little.  Littles like rules and boundaries so they can feel safe. “First, you are going to have to take better care of yourself.  You are going to wash the clothes that have been in your car for God knows how long.  You are going to take a shower every day.  I don’t know what your hair routine is, but it will have to be more frequent.  Skin care is another concern, we will get you something that will help clear up your complexion.”  Her eagerness turns sour.  “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Princess.  It is just that you have not had the opportunity to take care of yourself right. It’s not your fault, it is just something to work on.  I will help you.”  Wordless tears escape although the rest of her face is stone.  “It’s okay, Baby Girl.  You are so beautiful.  So, cute. So precious.  I just don’t think anyone has treated you well in a really long time, if ever it seems like.” 

She crawls across the couch and lies her head in my lap.  She quietly weeps. I stroke her hair.  Her sobs become more frequent and louder.  She has to let out that pain.  I pat her back and rub circles to comfort her.