“The doctor installed more than just the sensor, Little Seventy-One,” he said, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. “There’s a contraceptive device as well. Long-term, completely effective.” His fingers dug into my hips. “Which means your daddies are going to come inside you. Fill you up. Help you learn your place as a receptacle for their pleasure.”
The words should have horrified me. Instead, they sent another spike of shameful arousal through my oversensitive body. A receptacle. An object for their use. The degradation of it made my pussy clench again around Daddy Ed’s cock.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Feel what you are now. Feel what you need.”
Daddy Bill’s thrusts into my mouth became erratic, less controlled. “Going to fill your mouth,” he said, his voice slightly strained with his pleasure. “Going to make you swallow every drop like a good little girl.”
Daddy Ed drove deep one final time and I felt him swell inside me, felt the pulse of his release as he came, the first time I’d ever let a man come inside me. The sensation triggered something primal in me—being filled, being claimed, being used—and impossibly, another orgasm crashed through my already overwhelmed nervous system. I screamed around Daddy Bill’s cock as Daddy Ed pumped into me, marking me from the inside.
Daddy Bill groaned and thrust deep into my throat. “Swallow,” he commanded, and then he was coming too, hot and thick, flooding my mouth. I swallowed reflexively, gagging slightly but taking it all because I had no choice, because my mouth belonged to him now, because some terrible part of me wanted to be good for my daddies.
They held themselves inside me for a long moment—Daddy Ed’s cock still pulsing in my pussy, Daddy Bill’s softening in my mouth—and I just hung there in the restraints, my body racked with tremors, tears streaming down my face, completely and utterly broken.
Finally, they withdrew. The loss of fullness left me feeling empty, hollow. Daddy Ed’s release leaked out of me and I felt it drip down my thighs. The plug remained lodged in my ass, a continuing reminder of what they’d done to me.
“That was a constructive first lesson, Seventy-One,” Daddy Ed said. “I’m sure you worked up an appetite. Let’s get you fed. You’ll meet the other bad girls at dinner.”
CHAPTER 6
Pam
Working together, the huge, dismayingly handsome men who I apparently had to call my new daddies released me from the spanking bench. My legs could barely hold me. As soon as they had released the restraints, I collapsed forward against the bench, my muscles turned to water. Daddy Bill caught me before I could fall completely, his strong hands steadying me at the shoulders.
“Easy,” he said, his voice maddeningly gentle after what they’d just done to me. “Take your time.”
Take my time. As if time mattered anymore. As if anything mattered except the throbbing ache in my ass, the soreness between my legs, and the plug still lodged inside me—a constant, humiliating reminder that my body had apparently ceased to belong to me.
I tried to stand upright and immediately regretted it. Every muscle screamed in protest. The plug shifted with the movement and I whimpered, fresh tears stinging my eyes.
“The plug stays in during dinner,” Daddy Ed said, as if reading my thoughts. He was already moving toward the cabinet again, pulling out a fresh diaper. “It’s part of your training. You need to get used to the sensation, and what it means for you.”
Get used to it. Like this was something normal. Like having my ass plugged while I ate dinner with strangers was just another Tuesday.
Daddy Bill guided me to stand while Daddy Ed approached with the diaper. I wanted to fight, to tell them to go fuck themselves again, but the memory of the paddle was too fresh. The wordDaddyhad been burned into my vocabulary through twenty-four brutal swats, and I didn’t have the strength—physical or mental—to earn more.
“Legs apart,” Daddy Ed instructed.
I obeyed, hating myself for the compliance but unable to stop it. He threaded the cloth diaper between my legs, and I felt the bulk press against my tender flesh. The padding rubbed against places that were still sensitive from their use, and I bit my lip to keep from making a sound.
They fastened the diaper at my hips with Velcro tabs.
“No rubber pants,” Daddy Bill said, “as long as you behave yourself. You may ask to go to the bathroom.”
I glared at him, my attempt at defiance provoking no more than a slight upward movement of the right side of his too-perfect lips.
“But,” he continued, “you won’t be wearing anything else until you earn it. We keep the facility at a comfortable seventy-two degrees.”
I stared down at my naked body, the white cloth diaper the only thing covering me. My nipples hardened in the cool air, and I crossed my arms over my breasts instinctively.
“Hands at your sides,” Daddy Ed said sharply.
My arms dropped before I could think about it. The compliance was automatic now, trained into me through pain and humiliation. I hated how quickly my body had learned to obey.
Daddy Bill retrieved my pink uniform from where they’d stripped it off me, but instead of handing it to me, he folded it neatly and set it on a shelf. The message was clear: I wouldn’t be getting it back until I’d jumped through some degrading set of hoops set up by my daddies.
“This way,” he said, opening the door out to the corridor.
I followed them into the hallway, my bare feet silent on the thick carpet. The diaper made its presence felt with each slightly waddling step. I was acutely aware of the plug shifting inside me. Every movement sent a pulse of sensation through my body—not quite pain, but a discomfort that refused to let me forget what my so-called daddies had done to me, of how thoroughly they’d violated every boundary I’d ever had.
