Lowering my head, I capture one taut peak in my mouth. Beneath me, Isabella remains perfectly still. My very own living doll, pliant and defenseless as I use her body for my pleasure.
Perfection.
Even when I peel her diaper away from her skin, my fingers spearing her wet heat, she doesn’t stir. For what feels like hours, I lay here with my little doll, touching and tasting every inch of her.
It isn’t until I begin to truly focus on her swollen little clit that she shifts in her sleep, arching up with a small gasp. But even then she doesn’t wake. I watch, mesmerized as she writhes beneath me, her body responding to my every touch.
“My beautiful little doll,” I whisper, still doing my best not to ruin this perfect moment. “Come for Daddy, little one.”
Another gasp as her tight, hot cunt squeezes my fingers. Her skin is flush with pleasure, her hands fisting in the covers as she obeys my command to come. And still she does not wake.
When she finally settles again, that beautiful blush remaining on her cheeks and her mouth in that perfect Cupid's bow as her breathing slows to its normal pace, I rise up onto my knees. Her arousal makes for the perfect lubricant as I wrap my fingers around my cock, gently stroking the hard length.
I watch her, my perfect little doll, once again lying still and quiet in my bed, her breasts and pussy bared to me. And with every stroke of my hand over my cock, pleasure coils inside me.
My groans fill the air, low, primal sounds of need nobody but me can hear as I stroke my cock faster, harder. Until, finally, that coil inside me snaps and my cum jets out all over her sleeping form. Covering her stomach and her neatly trimmed pussy with my pearly white seed.
Still gripping my cock, I drop my head, my breaths ragged as I drag oxygen into my lungs. I should clean her up, at least get a wet washcloth to wipe her down before putting her diaper back on her.
But the thought of her spending the night covered in my cum, her diaper and her nightgown sticky with the evidence of my desire is too tempting to pass up. And so, when I finally have my balance back, I dress her again, pulling her diaper back up over her cum-covered mound and tugging her nightgown back into place. Pulling the covers back up over both of us, I wrap an arm around her middle, holding her close and pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.
“Sleep tight, my little doll.”
Holding her in my arms the way a child might cradle a favorite stuffed animal, I drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
Isabella
What a strange, vivid dream.
I’ve never dreamt like that before. Where my whole body seemed to respond to what was happening, and I’d swear I actually had an orgasm just from dreaming.
But it’s not my body’s reaction to the dream that has my heart pounding faster as I wake, but the dream itself. There was no celebrity crush or hot neighbor joining me in dreamland, touching me in ways that had me crying out in pleasure.
No. That role was reserved for the man lying next to me, his heavy arm across my waist. My kidnapper, my captor.
Daddy.
A very, very naked Daddy.
Oh my god.
A blush heats my cheeks as I watch him sleep. And I can’t help but think how different he looks like this. So… harmless. Almost angelic, with the way his hair falls haphazardly across his forehead, tickling his eyelids. With his mouth closed but not pressed together in those tight lines as it often does when he’s awake, especially when I’ve done something to disappoint him.
If he’d approached me on the street, talked to me like a normal human being, I probably would have given him a shot. Charming, rich, gorgeous—what girl wouldn’t take a chance on a romance with a man like that? Granted, I would have balked at the diapers and bottles, but we could have had fun in the meantime. And looking at him now, I can clearly see that other life for us, the way he would have spoiled me with fancy dinners and brought me giant bouquets of roses after a performance.
But that’s not the life we have. Because he isn’t simply a rich, charming stranger with some questionable kinks. He’s a criminal, a man who doesn’t give a fuck about things like consent and who takes what he wants without care for who he hurts in the process.
As I’m lying in his bed, staring at his sinfully handsome face, one pale eye opens and a smile curves his lips. “Good morning, little doll. Sleep well?”
There’s an undercurrent to his question that sets my nerves on edge. But I’m still in “pretend everything is fine so he doesn’t suspect anything” mode, so I hide my unease with a smile of my own. “Yes, Daddy.”
“What did you dream about?”
Okay, now I’m really wondering if there’s something he knows that I don’t. “I don't really dream.”
“Ah, more’s the pity.” Rolling onto his side, he looks at the bright green numbers on the alarm clock. “We should get you ready for the day. You have an appointment with Doctor D this morning and he left me very specific instructions.”
