"They'd see what you made." I met his eyes in the mirror, something shifting between us. "Your creation. Your experiment. Your perfect little toy who begs so prettily."
"Is that what you think you are? Just my creation?"
"Aren't I?" I gestured at the screen where I was coming apart for the third time. "You took Lilah and turned her into... that. Into Bunny. Into something that gets wet from humiliation and comes from being called a good girl."
"I didn't take anything." His fingers moved with purpose now, building sensation to match the shame. "I revealed. Refined. Gave permission. But everything you are was already there, waiting."
"Bullshit."
"Is it?" He increased the pressure, making me gasp. "Tell me—when you were Lilah, did you ever feel satisfied? Ever feel complete? Or were you always searching for something you couldn't name?"
I wanted to lie, but the video made dishonesty impossible. That woman on screen, coming apart so completely—she looked satisfied. Fulfilled. Real in ways I'd never been before.
"Watch yourself come," he commanded. "See how your whole body surrenders? How you stop thinking and just feel? That's not something I created. That's something I uncovered."
The video showed my fifth orgasm, the one that had broken something fundamental. I watched my face go slack with pleasure, watched myself sob with relief, watched myself become everything I'd sworn I'd never be.
"Imagine if everyone saw this," he continued, fingers working me toward an edge that felt inevitable. "Saw how hungry you are. How desperate. What a perfect little cum-hungry slut you've become."
"They'd see what you made, Daddy." The words came out as a moan.
"Would they?" He spun the chair, dropping to his knees in front of me. "Or would they see what was always there? The need you hid behind anger? The submission you disguised as defiance?"
He pushed the panties aside, and I forgot how to breathe.
"Tell me what they'd see," he commanded, breath hot against me.
"They'd see—oh god—they'd see me begging. See me broken. See me—"
"See you happy," he corrected, then his mouth was on me.
The first touch of his tongue made me scream. Not the mechanical precision of the machine or the clinical touch of his fingers. This was different. Personal. Intimate in ways that terrified me.
He worked me with the same patience he brought to everything, but there was hunger in it now. Need that matched my own. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open as he took me apart with lips and tongue and teeth.
"Tell me," he said against me. "What would they really see?"
"They'd see—fuck—they'd see what you made—"
He stopped. "The truth this time."
"They'd see me happy!" The admission tore out like shrapnel. "They'd see me real. See me feeling things I never let myself feel. See me trusting someone enough to fall apart."
"Good girl." And then his mouth was back, rewarding honesty with pleasure that made thought impossible.
The video continued playing, my moans from yesterday mixing with today's. Surround sound surrender. I watched myself beg on screen while begging in real life, past and present blurring into one continuous breakdown.
"They'd see," I gasped, fingers tangling in his hair, "they'd see someone who finally stopped running. Stopped pretending. Stopped being afraid of wanting things."
He hummed approval against me, the vibration making me arch. On screen, I was coming again, face transcendent with release. In real life, I was approaching that same edge, built on humiliation and honesty and his tongue doing things that should be illegal.
"They'd see what you saw," I continued, words spilling out between gasps. "Someone worth breaking. Worth rebuilding. Worth keeping."
He pulled back just enough to speak. "Is that what you want? To be kept?"
"Yes." No hesitation now. "Yes, Daddy, please. Please keep me. Please—"
He returned to his task with renewed intensity, and I shattered. The orgasm hit different from all the others—deeper, fuller, touching places that had nothing to do with physical pleasure. I convulsed in the chair, thighs trembling around his head, sobbing as wave after wave crashed through me.
