I sit next to you, waiting. The tub is empty, cold against the bare skin of my thighs as I sit on the edge. I can see the new marks from last night on the tops of my thighs. They're red kisses from the switch you love to use on me. The switch I love to feel against me. I know the marks will bruise again. I can feel them, the bruises, deep in my muscles. The feel of them is delicious, but it isn't enough to distract me from the emotions I'm feeling.
I'm holding the stick in my hands. I'm staring at it. I'm scared of it. I'm worried. I'm anxious. I'm waiting. I'm not good at waiting. My mind runs wild and jumps to all sorts of horrible conclusions.
What if it's negative? Will you be upset with me if it is? Logically I know you won't, but what if that makes me bad? As silly and unrealistic as it is, I feel like it would have meant I somehow didn't try hard enough. Negative would be some sort of failing on my part. I don't want to fail you, daddy.
I've worked so hard. I have made it through all of these years, all of these changes. I've gone back to school. I've changed my life direction. I have survived, even flourished, and true to your word you're trying to give me my graduation present. You're trying to give me a part of you to have, forever and for always.
I want that so much, daddy. All of the times we've talked about it while you're inside me. Every time you suck and bite at my nipples, saying how perfect they would be full of milk for our child. All of the times you came inside me while I was on birth control saying how you couldn't wait for the day your seed would actually be able to take root within me. How many times did I cum on your cock from your words, or play with myself fantasizing about holding our daughter, knowing she was a gift from you?
What if this stick says it won't happen?
I know it's not the end of the world. I know we could try again. But I'm scared. I'm nervous. Daddy I don't want it to be negative. I don't know why it's so important to me right now, but it is, and I'm scared.
I can feel your warmth against me as I sit with you in the bathroom. I have my oversized sleep shirt on and my "slut" shorts. They do nothing to cover my thighs, which is why I'm so cold right now. My bare skin, my bare feet, pressing against the cold lifelessness of the sterile tiles.
It becomes harder to breathe as the seconds, as the minutes, tick by. Slowly. So slowly. Why can't I know now? How does anyone survive this waiting? The swirling of emotions makes my eyes burn with tears. It's confusing. I know I've done nothing wrong. Why does this test feel like a measure of my worth?
It's a pretty day outside. The sunlight makes the bathroom look welcoming, airy, open, and yet I'm suffocating inside of my head.
I lean against you, my head resting against your chest, trying to hide from myself. You wrap your arm around me as I continue to stare down at the pregnancy test in my hands. I want to apologize. I want to say I love you. I want to feel worthy, but I know if it comes back negative I'm going to struggle with that, and I feel like that will let you down in some way. I feel I should be stronger than this. More confident. More self-assured. This is what I've wanted for so long, daddy. I don't know what to do. Please don't stop holding me. Please help me understand that things really are ok.
I focus on my breathing as a way to hold back the emotions. I try to empty my mind like when I meditate. I try to let it all go. And for a little while I'm successful. For a short, brief moment my mind is calm and I simply bask in the feeling of you. Your warmth. Your safety. I breathe deep. It really will be ok.
My eyes never leave the stick in my hands, but in my calmness I have turned my focus inward. My eyes are open, but they don't really "see" anything. There's calmness. Stillness. There is you. There is peace.
The tightening of your arm around me brings me back to the now. Back to the test. It takes a second for me to adjust to the present. My eyes refocus. I see it. The test. I stare at it. Another second passes before I comprehend it, before I understand it. My brain tries to absorb it, this information, but it can't. I can't process it.
A plus sign.
Positive.
I'm pregnant.
It's another second or two before a click occurs inside of my brain. I sit up in shock. I'm still staring at the plus sign in my hands. Hands that are beginning to shake. I look up at you, my eyes unbelieving. This can't be real, can it? Is it true, daddy? Am I pregnant for you? Do I have part of you growing inside me?
A half sob half cry comes from somewhere. The sound catches me off guard until I realize it came from me. I don't know what to do. I'm so overwhelmed right now, daddy. The only thought I can hear inside my head is, "I'm pregnant."
I look back down at the test, afraid that it's a lie. Afraid I didn't see it correctly. Afraid it changed to negative while I wasn't looking. Another animalistic cry claws its way from my throat at the sight of the plus sign. It's still there. It's real. The test says I'm pregnant.
I look back up into your eyes as I feel a smile finally starting to warm me. And uncontrollable smile. Unadulterated joy, gratitude, love. Daddy! Daddy, I'm pregnant!
We reach for each other at the same time, my arms wrapping around your neck as your arms pull me to you, your lips crushing against mine. I can't get close enough to you. I need to feel you. I need you to hold me. I need you to claim me. I need your hands to grip me, bruise me. I need your teeth to bite me. I need you to consume me, daddy. Take me. Here. Now. Please. Oh, please. I'm yours, daddy. Always yours.
I moan into the kiss as our mouths open to each other. Our hands rake over our bodies and our tongues battle against one another. I can't help it. Feeling you this intensely, feeling your need so strongly makes me cum and I am powerless to stop it. I couldn't hold back even if I wanted to. You always know how to push me over that edge. Over and over and over again. You draw it out from my very soul.
Your hands find my face, holding it as you keep kissing me. We never break away from each other as you stand up, pulling me with you. The test falls from my hands, forgotten as my nails dig into your back, your shoulders. God, I love how strong you are, daddy. I love how you make me feel so weak and feminine.
Our kissing is broken only long enough for you to pull my shirt over my head. It's tossed somewhere, I don't know or care where. All I know is that my breasts are exposed to you. The marks from last night are already showing, the purples and blues rich and vibrant against my pale skin. You grip one breast in your hand as your mouth finds the other, sucking hard.
My hands hold your head to me as I cry out again, my hips gyrating against the emptiness inside me. I want you so much, daddy. Please fill me up. Please take me. Use me. Make me yours.
You shift your weight forward, making me step backwards. Again. Again. Step. Step. Each shift causing me to move until I realize what's happening. You're taking us out of the bathroom. You're moving us to the bedroom. Oh, god, daddy. You're going to fuck me so hard, aren't you? You're going to claim me all over again, aren't you?
