Assigned a Guardian (15 page)

“Oh, good,” Kayla said. “I’d hate to think I went to that class for nothing.” She giggled.

“Not now, though,” Patrick said.

“Oh.” Kayla pouted.

“Now I want to talk a little, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you so much.”

Kayla smiled. “I love you, too.”

“When did you figure out that you love me?” Patrick kept the tone very light, but he felt like he really needed the answer to the question; he didn’t want to think that it had been because he had controlled her the way he had had to for the ageplay program.

Kayla blushed and looked down at Patrick’s chest. Then she turned her eyes upward again. “Actually, it was just today. In the anal class.”

Patrick laughed. “Really?”

She nodded, her blush deepening. “When Sandra’s husband was, um, fucking her in the ass, I realized that I wanted you to do that to
me,
so, so badly.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew it would make you feel so good, and I want to make you feel good, all the time, and because I knew it would make me belong to you.”

Patrick felt a huge smile take over his face. “I want to make you so happy, Kayla,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you’d ever let me, but when I put you in the diaper I could tell that you just needed to let me in—to let me see that you’ve got that little girl inside you, and you always will.”

Chapter Fifteen

Kayla smiled and nodded. “Draco,” she said very softly. “Not the planet. My stuffed dragon. And…” She giggled. “…Mr. Fuzzy, too.”

Patrick gave her a puzzled look. Then the furrow in his brow deepened even further for a moment, and he said, “Where was Mr. Fuzzy, when we were…”

Kayla giggled. “I put him in the closet. I was hoping you would, you know, claim me, and I didn’t want him to watch. He’s a very innocent bear.”

Patrick laughed. “Okay, explain about Draco and Mr. Fuzzy, then.”

Kayla felt happiness well up in her chest at the sound of Patrick’s laughter, which itself seemed strong, like the muscles of his chest. It shook the bed, and it even seemed to shake her as she lay there, feeling that she belonged to him now. She wondered how she could ever have thought that to belong to a man—to be his responsibility—wouldn’t be the most wonderful thing in the world.

“When I saw Mr. Fuzzy on the bed, the day you brought me home,” Kayla said, reaching out to lay a hand on Patrick’s chest, just to feel his strength there. “I was… it made me angry, because it made me sad.”

Patrick took the hand and kissed it, and then he kissed Kayla on the mouth. “Why?”

“Two reasons, I think. First because that stuffed dragon always made me feel like my father loved me, but that he didn’t have time for me. He was showing that he loved me by sending humanity to the stars—to Sigma Draconis. But the reason I named the dragon Draco was that he explained to me very carefully that I had a stuffed dragon because the star by whose light my children would grow up was in the constellation Draco.”

Patrick’s face turned sad in sympathy. “I never knew that,” he said. “So instead of it being a symbol that he loved you, it really became a symbol of how you came second.”

Kayla nodded, feeling a tear trickle down her cheek. Patrick reached out, took her in his strong arms, and pulled her close.

“But I loved Draco, too. I held him tight every night as I fell asleep, and I told him that when it was time to get on the starship, he would be with me. And… he wasn’t.” She gave a little sob. “So silly. I don’t even know what happened to him.” Kayla sniffed. “I grew up, and the old toys sat in boxes, and I’m not even sure where that box ended up. So… it’s weird, but when I saw Mr. Fuzzy on the bed I just had this terrible feeling of loss—not for my real dad, I think, but for the real dad I never actually had, because of this planet. It was like all the confusion and anger that made me start out on the worst possible foot here was all bound up in having a stuffed animal. If I were still the girl who went to sleep with Draco the dragon, so sure that someday her father would love her the way she wanted to be loved, like his own special little girl—the most special little girl in the world—well… then I was a fool.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Patrick whispered.

“So I looked at Mr. Fuzzy, and I thought, forget it. But then when I started to, you know, bare myself… with the scissors, suddenly I wanted to hold him. I wanted to see—even though another part of me was so scared that you would let me down, like my dad did—what would happen if I let myself be little, and hold a teddy bear, and give into my feelings about you. How I wanted you to keep me safe and to be strict with me so that I knew how much you cared.”

“To put you in a diaper?” Patrick chuckled.

Kayla dropped her voice to a tiny whisper. “Yes,” she said. “Because when you put me in the diaper—and I guess I know this is weird, but it’s how I feel—I knew you would stop at nothing: you have a special responsibility, when it comes to me… not because the government gave it to you, but because you love me. And even though you were doing something I definitely didn’t think I wanted, you were doing it because you wanted me to be happy. And that’s what Mr. Fuzzy means.” As she sensed that she had managed to express the complex thought, she felt her face brighten and happiness return.

Patrick kissed her again. “I have to tell you that putting you in a diaper has a very interesting effect on me, Kayla,” he said. “Just thinking about the way you look when you have nothing on but a diaper does it.” He drew back from her a little, took her hand, and arrogantly put it on his cock. She could hardly believe how hot it got her to have him just do that: not even say anything—let alone ask whether she wanted to touch his hardness—but simply take her innocent little hand and make her please him that way. He kept his hand on hers, as if to tell her that she must attend to her duty to his arousal, and she began to try, rubbing gently the way she thought she should.

Patrick made a satisfied little noise in his throat. “That’s it,” he said. “There we go, good girl.”

“Why does it arouse you?” Kayla murmured, looking down now under the covers at where her hand served her guardian’s big cock, as it got harder by the moment.

“I think the diaper means that I get to say whether you’re allowed to be a grown-up. When I put you in diapers, I’m telling you that I’ll be making all the decisions about that part of your body, and that turns me on incredibly.” He looked into her eyes and then, again simply using his body to deliver the wordless message, he put his hand lightly on the back of her head and applied gentle pressure to tell Kayla that she had another duty below, further down the bed; that the time for talk had passed because her mouth must serve its noblest purpose.

She got so wet at the thought that her thighs began to feel slick as they moved together. The way he instructed her with his hand to show her she must suck his cock now seemed to be something he did almost experimentally, to see whether Kayla would like to be dominated that way—and she did; she liked it more than she could say.

Or needed to say, because part of why the wordless pressure, moving her down the bed so that she could give her guardian the pleasure he deserved from her, aroused her so much was that she didn’t have to say anything at all. She could just kiss his cock, and lick it, laying her cheek on Patrick’s thigh, and then, kneeling up a little, she could take it in her mouth—the very first time she had ever done that for a man. It was big, and it tasted a little funny because of course it had just been in Kayla’s pussy, but she loved the naughtiness of knowing that.

Then Patrick turned her so that she straddled his face, and he played with the butt plug as he planted little kisses on her pussy that made her moan. Kayla felt herself melting with pleasure at the knowledge that Patrick would decide what happened next, and that she must only do what he told her to do, whether with his hands or with his words—or with his cock.

Finally he murmured, after a long, lingering lick to her clit that made her scream around his hardness as she tried desperately to please it, “Let’s get you in front of me. It’s time for you to take my cock in your ass.”

So he gently slid the plug out of her, and he went to get the lube. Kayla waited, lying on her side on Patrick’s bed, trying not to touch her pussy at the thought that in a minute, in thirty seconds, in five seconds, Patrick would return to demonstrate to her just how thoroughly she belonged to him. Then he did return, and peremptorily he began to prepare her for the fucking of her most private place, invading her with slippery fingers while she made submissive little noises, blushing at the thought of what would now be done to her.

“There we go, little Kayla,” Patrick said. “You’re ready for my cock now.”

Kayla looked at her hands, which lay before her, clasped in a little girl’s attitude of prayer. Part of her wanted to beg Patrick to be gentle, but another part of her wanted him to be rough. Even more, all of her desperately wanted to show him that she knew he would be the one to decide how to take her ass, because he was a dominant man, and Kayla was a submissive woman.

The lesson from that afternoon came back to her: the importance of anal was that it made it clear how it would be, in any house where an alpha had a 1A under his care, and in his charge. He would decide where to put his cock, and how, she would take it, and love him for giving it to her that way.

Patrick’s cock was at her bottom-hole and he was pushing gently. Kayla tried to remember how to open to the butt plug, and at last, with a little cry of discomfort—but not great discomfort; really, just the right amount—she let her guardian inside her little ring.

With the butt plug, there had been the burning of the big part as it went in, but then the much smaller part had come, and her anus had been able to close. With Patrick’s cock, though, her anus had to stay open around him—for as long as he wanted to be there, Kayla realized, with mingled arousal and fear.

Patrick started to thrust gently in and out, his right hand on her shoulder and his left hand on her hip. “So nice,” he murmured. “So nice and tight.”

Kayla blushed to hear herself described thus, as if she were nothing but her asshole—the asshole her guardian liked to thrust his hard cock into—but the wetness in her pussy seemed to double at the sound of the words. Patrick moved his left hand down to touch her there, as if he sensed it, and Kayla cried out as he rubbed her clit firmly, telling her again, now with his fingers, how it would be.

Suddenly she wished that she hadn’t put Mr. Fuzzy away in the closet: she wished she had her teddy bear here to hold while she had her bottom fucked.
Why?
she wondered.
To comfort me?

No, she decided, as she saw the terribly naughty vision in her mind’s eye: because to hold Mr. Fuzzy while Patrick thrust in and out of her bottom would mean that she had given every part of her to her guardian, wicked as it might seem for a girl holding a teddy bear to have a cock in her little anus.

Kayla came at the thought, her pussy clenching and her bottom contracting helplessly around Patrick’s cock as he rode in and out of her there. The feeling seemed to make him ride her harder, and it hurt, but as with the pain of spanking sometimes, especially afterward, the discomfort of her anus seemed also to be a kind of pleasure beyond pleasure, and she realized that she was coming again, just as Patrick clutched her shoulder and her pussy convulsively, and went over the edge of his climax, his cock pumping its warm seed into her bottom. His orgasm seemed to go on and on, and Kayla smiled at the way Patrick seemed to lose control of his body—always so very tightly controlled, otherwise—in the grips of the huge paroxysm of pleasure.

“Oh, God, sweetheart,” he said, panting. “I love you so much.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, loving how submissive it made her feel to thank him for claiming her so shamefully. “I love you, too.”

Chapter Sixteen

The next month went by in a blur. Patrick sent a polite note to the man with whom Kayla had been going to have coffee, and a formal note to Marjorie, and they were engaged, more or less, with a wedding date set for three months in the future. Marjorie came by on an official visit to congratulate them, and told Kayla that she hoped she would keep up her work in the economics program.

“It will be hard, while you’re still getting used to being pregnant, and taking care of the little ones, but I think you’ll find that you’ll settle into a rhythm that will set you up nicely for later.”

By ‘later,’ Marjorie meant after four children, which was the minimum for a fertile woman who hadn’t been sent to Lourcy House, before she was allowed birth control. Exceptions were made on a case-by-case basis for health reasons, but Kayla could expect to have her four children and then be allowed to start her research career in earnest.

As Patrick had promised, he took her to the office with him. She did her academic work in a little library, where three or four other wives usually sat, reading or sewing (for there were sewing machines there as well), or in one case painting beautiful Draconian landscapes.

The first time, Patrick could tell that Kayla felt terribly self-conscious when he came to get her in the library, since of course all the other wives knew why Patrick was leading her away to one of the private rooms. Patrick came to the door and crooked his finger, and Kayla rose, blushing furiously and apparently not daring to look at the other women’s faces.

“Patrick,” she hissed, as she joined him at the door. “Do you have to look like that?”

“Like what?” Patrick asked innocently.

“Like you’re going to… you know.”

“Well, yes, I think I do. I mean I
am
going to fuck you now. For the good of the planet.”

“
Patrick!
”

“All the girls in there know that they’re here for fucking, Kayla, and they know that you’re here for fucking, too.”

“Oh, God, Patrick. If that didn’t get me so hot…”