34. Still Testing The Waters

EPOV

“But why?”


“Because I said so, angel.”


“How come?”


“Because that’s your new rule.”


“Why?”


“For the third time, Isabella…bath time is private time,” I told her with finality.


“But why thoough?”


For fucks sake.


I sighed. “How about you just do as your told and take your bath without all the questions, baby girl,” I suggested before gently grasping her shoulders and turning her body away from mine, towards the bathroom.


We were standing at the entrance to the bathroom, and I had just informed her of the bath time rule I had decided upon. She was not happy. She had come up with four reasons, so far, of why I absolutely had to accompany her while she took a bath.


She needs to me wash her hair.


What if she drowns?


What if the hair soapies get in her eyes?


And last, but not least…her Ariel dolly wants to play with me.


Yes. This was going to be a problem.


I had prepared her bath as soon as she had woken up from a forty-minute nap, induced by that percocet pill I‘d given her for the pain of menstrual cramps in her abdomen and lower back. I made sure everything was in order…warm water, bubbles, soap crayons, Ariel water doll, tearless shampoo, oil of olay body wash and a soft washcloth.


She stared at the ready tub, then turned around to look back up at me. “But, will you help me draw on the wall with my soapie crayons?“ she asked hopefully.


Instead of answering that question, I just turned her back around in the same manner and softly patted her bottom, urging her to walk into the bathroom by herself. “Pretty girl, if you don’t start listening to your new rule, you’re going to be in trouble,” I warned in a soft voice next to her ear.


“But I don’t want a new rule, Edward,” she informed me in a light tone.


“I know.”


“Want you to come play with me…” she pleaded.


“We can play when you’re all done,” I offered.


“But Edwaaard,” she whined and she might have stomped her foot a bit.


I stepped away from her then, so that I wouldn’t give into my sudden urge to smack her.


She wasn’t listening, and it was aggravating me.


She was starting to whine, and it was annoying me.


She was still testing me on this complicated sexual owner issue, and it was worrying me.


She was tempting me with washing her beautiful, silky long locks and it was pissing me off that I wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and just give in.


I sighed deeply, now a few feet away from her body.


I would not give in to her.


I can’t.

I won’t.


I kept walking backwards. “Isabella, take a bath. I’ll be in our room.”


“But what if-” she started, but I interrupted her.


“But what if you don’t start doing as your told, and you end up getting a spanking before your bath, and then you have to stand in a time out when your bath is over?” I asked in a very Isabella-like fashion, from my position on the bed now.


“That would suck,” she answered with a slight nod.


“Yes. So you make the choice, angel. You’re a big girl. Are you going to listen, or are you going to fight me on this?” I asked, then gave her a few seconds to think about it.


Before she could answer me, I added, “Either way, you’re taking a bath. By yourself. It’s up to you whether you want a spanking beforehand, or not.”


She turned back around, and I looked at her expectantly, waiting for her decision.


While she stared at me, I felt Jasper’s calm wash over me. I was thankful, because I didn’t want to be hard on Isabella right now. As worried, and as frustrated as I am at the moment, I knew that she was dealing with her own emotional turmoil.


I knew this from reading my brother’s thoughts. I was always aware of my girl’s emotional state. She was confused right now. Jasper was feeling confusion and fear, with a hint of longing coming from her. Confusion on the ‘owner’ issue, I’m sure. Fear of a spanking, no doubt. And I guess longing because…because, maybe she really did want to play with me.


Aw. My sweet baby girl.


Well, I would play anything she wanted after she took her bath. Alone. Washed her hair…alone. My fingers actually itched at that thought, letting me know their protests on the matter. My hands and fingers longed to wash her soft hair again. I had grown to enjoy it…a lot. And I really shouldn’t have.


I comforted myself with the knowledge that I would get to brush it out after she was through with her bath. And also, if my Bella ever wanted me to join her in the shower, in the future, of course, then I wouldn’t hesitate to just fucking hop right in beside her. And yes, I would be very greedy and take advantage of the situation while in there. After ravishing her soft, supple, warm little body, I would wash her long, silky hair...for as long as I wanted to, however many times I wanted to. And she wouldn’t deny me, she knows better.


So, you see? All hope is not lost.


I raised my eyebrows at Isabella. “Well?”


She sighed in defeat before muttering, “I’ll be a big girl.”


I smiled, letting her know that I was proud of her decision.


I got off the bed and walked back over to where she stood by the bathroom door, and kissed her forehead. “Alright angel, I’ll be in here, while you’re in there,” I murmured against her warm skin.


“Kay,“ she mumbled.


“Okay. And when your done, don’t forget to squeeze all the water out of your hair, baby,” I reminded her.


“Kay.”


I kissed her cheek and turned her back around, once again, so that she was facing the tub. With another soft pat to her bottom, I stepped back and turned away from her, heading back over to the bed.


I sat on the edge and watched as she slowly walked over the threshold, into the bathroom, then turned and quietly shut the door behind her, knowing that a closed door was required now. As soon as I heard the door click shut, I sighed in relief and turned to my new task at hand.


I had to get her pajamas ready, with a new pair of padded panties. The small feminine pad was on top of the dresser, so I walked over to it, intent on picking out some pajamas for tonight. After I grabbed another pair of flannel sleep pants and a black wife beater shirt for myself, I focused on Bella’s clothing drawers. After some searching, I chose a simple black and blue pajama shorts set with midnight blue cotton panties to match.


I tossed her small articles of clothing onto the bed, then quickly changed into my own pajamas, even though I still didn’t like it.


Wearing certain clothes for a certain time of day? Ridiculous.


Pajamas for vampires? Laughable.


But Alice insists that it’s a necessity for vampires with human girlfriends, so whatever. I’ll dress in the useless things. At least they are comfortable.


When I was fully clothed again, I sat down on the bed and snatched up both the feminine pad, and the little blue panties.


I still can’t believe I’m doing this…putting a pad on my girlfriend’s underwear for her. It’s definitely not something I ever thought I’d be doing in my long, immortal life. But, I can’t allow myself think about it like that. Because I’m not doing this for my Bella…this is for her alternate, Isabella. Because my Bella has alternates now…because she has been traumatized, and abused. And I didn’t protect her-


Woah…change the thought process, Cullen.


Right.


Because that’s really all I need to make this goddamn day of fuckery complete, with a shiny gold fucking star; become mind-numbingly depressed while my five year old takes a bath just a few feet away.


And that’s another thing. I have a little five year old now. Who looks like my Bella, but sure as hell doesn’t sound, or act like my Bella.


During this past week, when I have allowed myself a moment to just breath and take a step back, I see myself playing all these different roles. The most prominent ones being, a boyfriend and a parent. The most recent and newly established one, would be a lover. Sometimes, I have even confused myself as to what role I am supposed to play at a certain time. This whole situation just blows my fucking mind.


Anyway, so…my Bella hasn’t been around, and if she were here right now, then I wouldn’t have to worry about doing this…period pad thing, or even picking out her clothes, for that matter. She doesn’t need me to take care of everything for her. Only Isabella does. Isabella is a five year old…my little girl. She depends on me. She needs me.


And I love it.


I smiled as I unfolded the blue panties and placed them down on the mattress by my leg. I ripped open the plastic package, and began removing the adhesive strips, like I had done before when I was with Isabella in the bathroom. After firmly attaching the thin pad to the inside of my girl’s panties, I folded over those weird little flap things again, and then I was done.


Wow, you really shouldn’t be that proud that you can stick a pad to a pair of panties.


But I am.


It’s just more proof that I can take care of my Bella…whether she’s herself, or not.


I miss my Bella…


My breath exhaled sharply as a feeling of absolute longing and sadness suddenly consumed me. I missed Bella. My Bella. God, how I miss her. I want to talk to her and hold her…taste her. I want to kiss her. Mark her slim and succulent neck. I want to lay her down on the bed that I had bought for her, and cater to her needs once more…over, and over, and over again. I want to skim my hands along her soft flesh. Kiss all along her defined collarbone and then alternate between kisses, licks and nibbles as my mouth slowly makes it way down her taut little belly. I want to firmly wrap my hands around her tiny waist to keep her body still while my tongue dips and teases that adorable little belly button. I want to fix my gaze on her naked breasts and nuzzle my face in them…play with them. Suckle on those pink little buds until she softly moans my name-


“Edward?”


Damn it.


That was turning into a really nice little fantasy, too.


“Yeah?”


“C’mere…” she trailed off.


I furrowed my brow in confusion the same time that my jaw had set itself in determination.


“Why?”


“B’cuz,” she offered.


Then she whimpered.


I stood from the bed. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked in concern, making my way over to the closed bathroom door.


“Hit my toe on the tub,” she said pitifully, then sniffled.


I nodded, then realized that she couldn’t see me. “Aw, it’s okay, pretty baby,” I cooed softly to her through the wooden barrier.


“Edward, kiss it better…” she pleaded through her sniffles.


At her request, my left hand was on the door before I gave it permission to do so, but thankfully, I stopped my hand before it had a chance to turn the small golden knob.


What if she is lying? What if it’s just another test?


What if she is not lying? What if she’s really hurt?


What the hell do I do?


Damn it. I hate this. I hate that I even have to question her. I mean, fuck…is she really hurt, or not?


My ingrained need to comfort her was quickly winning out over my apprehension of another one of her little tests.


I clenched my jaw and cringed at my internal battle. I really didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Do I go with the ‘better safe than sorry’ theory, and check on her? Or do I stay out here and risk her being on the opposite side of this damn door, needing me, but being deprived of me.


Fucking relax, Cullen. She hit her toe. What in the hell would you do to make it better, anyway?


Kiss it, of course. Kissing it always works.


Huh…when did you become such a woman?


I rolled my eyes at my inner ramblings, knowing that they were right, and focused my attention back on Isabella.


“Sweetheart, you’ll be fine,” I softly assured her.


“Huh-uh, Edward,” she insisted.


“Yes…” I countered.


She cried out then. And if I’m not mistaken…it didn’t sound like the pain cry I had grown used to hearing from her when she'd been unfortunate enough to get hurt. She sounded frustrated. Really frustrated.


“Edwaaard, kiss it better. It’s hurts,” she told me through her indignant cries.


My chest filled with anxiety as my senses were assaulted with the sounds of her distress. My nostrils flared at the subtle salt in her tears.


I would have gone into the bathroom then, if my instincts hadn’t just picked up on her lie in that same exact moment. Well…my instincts, and Jasper’s talent.


According to him, she was being deceitful in her reasoning for wanting me in there with her. As I listened a little while longer, I quickly noticed her slight anger and frustration in the sounds of her cries, but the slight wail of her usual pain cry was absent.


She was throwing a fit. Having a temper tantrum.


Jasper didn't pick up any pain from her, either.


My eyes immediately zoned into a hard glare, but I kept quiet through my anger and patiently waited for Jasper to tame it. I leaned my forehead onto the wooden door, and listened to her cry and ask me why I wasn’t coming in to ‘help her’. With every fake, helpless plea, and every lie, my anger grew…making it harder for Jasper to calm me.


I closed my eyes and tried my best to ground myself and my emotions. I had reached the point of being furious twice now…Jasper just barely being able to bring me back from the brink. She continued to cry and when I noticed the low rumble deep in my chest, I backed away from the door.


Isabella was in danger right now. From me.


Jasper came into the room then, and put his hand on my arm. Skin to skin contact seemed to help immensely, and eventually did the trick.


After two minutes, my voice was no longer rough with anger and my body was relaxed once more. I sighed in relief and hugged Jasper. We didn’t usually hug, but damn it, I was fucking grateful. He had just prevented me from hurting my little girl.


God, and I would have hurt her. My stress and anger proved to be so deep right now, that I would have acted irrationally, out of anger, and without a second thought.


Much like a had done with Marie.


I would have hurt her, for lying to me…trying to make me believe that she was hurt, then throwing a fit when I didn’t fall for it, preventing her from getting her way.


Well, Isabella is not stealing, so just calm the fuck down. She's just throwing a fit. And you'd better get used to it Cullen, because that's what five year olds do.


Right.


This was Isabella's first tantrum.


I could handle it. I could do this.


Just stay firm.


If I had a dime for every fucking time I had to remind myself to 'stay firm', I'd be-


"Edward!" she yelled, interrupting my reverie.


I groaned then. In frustration and in resignation. I was going to have to bust her little ass if she didn't stop all that bullshit crying. I'd call her bluff and give her something to cry about.


Christ. How cliche is that? "Give her something to cry about", give me a fucking break.


I sighed.


She was still continuing on with her charade at the moment, crying and sniffling. Calling my name. But I began ignoring it with ease, becoming too busy concentrating with keeping myself calm, now that Jasper had left the room.


I would deal with her in a moment.


Her ’bath time testing’ ends tonight.


“Edward-” she sniffled.


“Quiet!” I said loudly from my side of the door.


She didn’t completely stop her crying, but she did quiet down.


I sighed and kept a reign on my anger as I made the decision to confront her on the lie, knowing that she would fess up to it easily, like she had done in the past with other lies.


“Isabella.”


I made sure to keep my voice hard and firm, so that she would know I meant business. She couldn’t see me right now, so my ‘stern face’ that I had perfected was fucking useless at the moment.


“Yeah?” her voice cracked.


“Are you lying to me?”


“Yeah,” she admitted.


“Why?”


“B’cuz I want you to c’min here with me…” she said with a whine.


“Oh, Isabella…I’m going to come in there, but you’re not going to like it,” I warned her in an icy tone.


The only response I got were the sounds of her crying starting back up. And I noticed that it was genuine this time…they were cries of fear. It sounds the same every single time she thinks that she’s in any kind of trouble. I quickly picked up her sweet tang of adrenaline over the faint smell of dead blood.


What I didn’t understand though, was why did she choose to do this in the first place? I had warned her before she had gotten in the tub. Granted, her 'private bath time' rule may be brand new, but she knows her rule about lying. And whining.


Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is making sure that this never happens again. That her ‘bath time testing’ days are over. Because I can’t fucking handle them anymore.


I opened the door then, and quickly shut it behind me, locking the knob when I did. I strode over to her quickly, barely even noticing her flushed, tearstained face, or the usual water mess that she made on the floor.


“Stand up, Isabella,” I demanded through gritted teeth.


My jaw was clenched so tight right now, that it was actually beginning to become uncomfortable. I was biting back a growl though, so I kept them tight as I stared down expectantly at my naughty little girl.


“Nooo…” she whined, then wiped at her eye with a small fist.


Before she could finish her protest, I reached down and gripped her arm tightly, quickly hauling her up to a standing position.


I was not fucking around tonight.


I smacked her bare ass with my firm hand. Hard.


“Ow!” she screamed.


“Don’t tell me no, Isabella.”


“Edward, owwie…stop,” she cried, stating her usual plea and turned her watery gaze to look up at me.


I kept my grip firm around her thin bicep, making sure she stayed standing before me. I focused intently on her face and nowhere else.


“Uh-uh, we’re just getting started,” I informed her lowly, then swatted her ass again.


Her cries grew louder in the echoing bathroom, but I spoke over them.


I glared at her. “Quiet, Isabella. Stop. The fucking. Whining,” I demanded, then smacked her ass again.


“Nobody feels sorry for you,” I informed her as she kept crying and cringing away from my loud voice.


She was trying to pull her arm out of my grasp and it was pissing me off.


Why would my girls ever think that they could run away from me? First Marie, and now my baby, Isabella. Guess I’ll just have to teach her too.


I yanked her arm back over to me, so that she stood even closer to my hard body, and smacked her ass again. Just to prove to her that she could never get away from me.


No matter how hard she tried.


When she still hadn’t lowered the volume of all that wretched crying, I decided to inform her of a little piece of information that she may find useful.


“Isabella, the few swats you are getting right now will seem like a vacation ride at fucking Disney World, compared to the spanking that is in store for you, if you ever lie to me like that again,” I warned her with another swat to her bare ass.


A sob tore through her throat at my promise, and her sniffles continued, as she focused away from me and stared at the tiled wall in front of her.


“Look at me,” I demanded and shook her arm a bit.


She quickly turned her head to the left, towards me, then looked up and into my eyes.


I noticed that the hiccupping sobs coming from her small body were becoming heavier and thicker.


Don't take this overboard, Cullen...


Ignoring my inner 'voice of reason', I suddenly remembered that advice from the Nanny 911 show the other night, so I asked with a cold and penetrating stare, “Why are you in trouble?”


While I waited for her answer, I kept that vital eye contact and willed the salty tears that were now a constant stream down her rosy cheeks to not bother me and break my already wavering resolve.


“B-b’cuz you’re m-mad b’cuz I l-lied,” she hiccupped and sobbed.


I cocked my head to the side in question. “And you’re not going to lie to me anymore, are you?” I hedged in a low voice, trying to control the imminent growl.


She shook her head immediately. “Nooo…” she answered in a cry.


I gritted my teeth again. “Good. And Isabella…for the last goddamn time, bath time is private time,” I reminded her in a hard voice and brought my hard hand down to her bare flesh once more.


“Oww!” she screamed, but I was able to speak over it.


“So for the love of God, Isabella, stop testing me!” I yelled at her and smacked her again, but twice this time, and in quick succession.


“Okay! Ok-kay,” she stuttered out through another one of those damn sobs.


I let her arm go then, and glanced down behind her, discreetly trying to get a little glimpse of her now tender bottom. After a quick and succesful peek, I was reassured that she was only blushed a faint pink color, and once again, I was satisfied that while my anger was very present, I had not let it control me.


I looked back into her eyes. They were staring right at me…all watery and pleading and fearful and sad.


I frowned. “Isabella, sit down,” I said in a quieter voice.


She did, successfully immersing her beautifully exposed and naked body back into the warm water under the thick, white bubbles. She still continued to cry.


I walked over to the counter and ripped off some toilet paper from it’s roll, then took it back to Isabella.


“Blow your nose,” I suggested, but even I could hear the slight commanding tone that still saturated my voice.


She did and while I was waiting for the soiled tissue to be handed back to me, I thought back and tried to remember how many swats I had actually given her. I knew it wasn’t her assigned number of five.


Hmmm…


After I counted over in my head, twice, I knew my answer. I had just spanked her eight times. Not much, but definitely more than I had originally intended.


I was angry at Isabella too, just like I had been with Marie in the car, earlier today.


But Jasper was fucking here this time, so what the hell?


As I assessed my constant reign in my control and Jasper’s slight continuous calming influence, I came to the conclusion that he, in fact, had been helping me. But I felt the same anger with Isabella that I had felt with Marie. And just like with Marie’s punishment…I don’t feel guilty afterward.


So…so, okay, wait - does that mean that I’m getting better at all of this parenting crap, or that I’m just becoming a heartless bastard?


I sighed, knowing that I didn't know the answer to that damn question.


Fuck my life.


She handed me back the tissue, and continued to try and swallow back sobs and regulate her breathing. I threw the wadded up tissue in the toilet and closed the lid, then sat on it.


I stared at Isabella critically, and she stared back at me curiously.


I knew what I had to do now, in order to keep up this whole 'I-am-your-owner-but-not-really' charade.


After all, I'm not stupid. I'm actually very well educated and experienced. I've both heard, and read about these types of relationship dynamics. I know of the whole master/slave thing. It's definitely not my cup o' tea, but I know enough.


I know that she expects punishment and aftercare, routines and instructions.


Among other things.


But, damn it, those are the only four things that I can agree to!


All of that other wierd crap, along with all of the odd and depraved sexual things that are involved, are completely off the fucking table.


But, as for this instruction and aftercare thing...I can do that.


Piece of fucking cake. Chocolate cake. With creamy chocolate icing on top.


So, when she was completely quiet, I spoke.


“You need to finish up in the tub. Wash your hair. When you are done, go to the bedroom. Your jammies are laying on the bed, waiting for you to put them on,” I instructed.


She nodded.


“From now on, Isabella, if I have to come in here while you are naked, and in the tub, there will be a repeat of this. Your new rule is very important and it will stay in place,” I informed her.


“Do you understand me, young lady?” I asked after twelve seconds of eerie silence.


She nodded again.


“What rule am I talking about?” I tested her.


“Bath time is private time,” she responded timidly.


“That’s right,” I agreed.


She nodded.


“Isabella, rules are not there to ‘be mean’, or to take away your fun. Each and every single rule that I give you has a purpose and it is your job to follow them. When you don’t do your job, then it is my job to correct your behavior. I will not hesitate with my job anymore, young lady. I’ve been holding back a lot, but I won’t anymore,” I informed her.


She nodded.


“I will not be washing your hair anymore. I will not play in the bubbles mountains with you. I will not play with your Ariel dolly and I will not draw with your soap crayons on the wall,” I told her firmly.


Sadness filled her eyes then, and she let out a whimper that suddenly filled my chest with unexpected anxiety. Out of all her cries in the past ten minutes, that one little whimper had found my weakness.


Damn it.


“But I want you to play with me…” she told me in a pitifully small voice, then began wiping away fresh, salty tears.


I cringed at her assumption that I wouldn’t want to play with her anymore.


I sighed and kept a firm grip on my resolve. “Isabella, look at me.”


When I had that vital eye contact once more, I continued. “I want to play with you. I will still play with you. Just not in the bathroom. Or while you are naked. Never while you are naked,” I clarified for her.


She sniffled and nodded.


I stood then, and reminded Isabella to wash her hair before I turned and left the room. I softly clicked the door shut behind me, and closed my eyes before leaning back against the wall to my side. I was able to stay calm and relaxed as I listened to the sounds of Isabella finishing her bath.


I sighed and ran my hands roughly through my hair in slight frustration.


I can't get over it and it just boggles my fucking mind, that I don’t feel guilty when I have to punish my girls now. I remember clearly how it had been so goddamn hard in the beginning. My apprehension and guilt on the matter, were so heavy, that it had actually prevented me from acting on their bad behavior a few times.


What is the difference between then, and now? What has changed?


Whatever the reason is, I don’t want to do this anymore. I need a break. I deserve a fucking break. I don’t want to try and be a parent anymore. It’s getting too damn stressful…too hard.


I fisted my messy hair in both my hands and pulled at it to the point of pain, knowing that I could never allow myself to think like that. My girls need me…all three of them do. I could never abandon them.


As I stood there, leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door, my thoughts and erratic feelings began to torment me; the soundtrack to my sudden sadness had become Isabella’s soft humming as she continued to massage the tearless shampoo into her long hair and smooth scalp.


Her voice was so sweet…and I found that even through my melancholy mood, it still soothed me. I stood there, happily drowning in her wet, saturated scent and soft, lilting voice.


The love and devotion that I felt for her and Marie were beginning to scare me.


I love Marie. So much. Her care-free attitude is so refreshing and I found myself smiling, just thinking about her sexy smirks, sassy remarks and heartbreaking smiles. And I can’t even begin to explain how much I adore my baby, Isabella. I cannot imagine going a day without her precious smiles and giggling laughter. I can’t live without them.


But…


Someday, I know that I will have to.


I miss my Bella.


I need her.


I want her back.