“Good girl,” he murmured, slowly withdrawing his finger. “You like how you taste, don’t you?”
I wanted to say no, to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. Because some terrible part of me did like it—liked the dirtiness of it, liked being made to do something so degrading.
“She’s going to love eating pussy,” Daddy Ed said conversationally, as if he were discussing the weather. His thumb continued to circle my nipple while his other hand slid down my stomach. “She’ll put that talented mouth to good use when the time comes.”
My eyes went wide in the mirror as understanding crashed over me. What Fifty-Three had said.Special duty. Whatever way the Trusty requires.
They were going to make me go down on another woman.
The image of Fifty-Three’s sharp features flashed through my mind—her knowing eyes, the way she’d looked at me across the dinner table, that comment about how pretty I was. My stomach did a complicated flip that wasn’t entirely revulsion. I’d been raised to believe that was the worst kind of naughtiness, the most shameful thing a girl could do. Two girls together—it was the kind of thing only the most depraved bad girls did.
But as Daddy Ed’s fingers found my clit and began circling it with casual skill, I felt a shudder run through my body that had little to do with his touch. I pictured Fifty-Three spread out before me, imagined being ordered to put my mouth on her most intimate places, to taste her the way I’d just tasted myself.
And God help me, I felt myself get wetter.
“She’s thinking about it,” Daddy Bill observed, his eyes locked on me in the mirror. “Look at her face. She wants it.”
“No,” I whispered, but the denial came out weak, unconvincing even to my own ears.
Daddy Ed’s fingers moved faster, building pressure that made my knees weak. “You’re going to be such a good little pussy-licker for Fifty-Three,” he said, his detached tone making the crude words even more degrading. “You’re going to make her come with that pretty mouth while we watch.”
The image crystallized in my mind with devastating clarity—me on my knees between Fifty-Three’s spread thighs, my daddiesstanding over us, watching their newest bad girl service their Trusty. The wrongness of it, the complete surrender it would require, sent a spike of dark arousal through me that I couldn’t deny.
My orgasm hit without warning, tearing through me with an intensity that made my legs buckle. I would have fallen if my daddies hadn’t been holding me up, their strong hands supporting my weight as I shook and gasped. I watched myself come apart in the mirror—the woman with my face lost all control, her mouth opening in a silent scream, her body convulsing between two men who owned her completely.
When the waves finally subsided, I hung limp in their grip, tears streaming down my face. The shame was overwhelming, crushing. I’d just come while thinking about eating another woman’s pussy. While my daddies watched and touched me and told me what a good little slut I was going to be.
“Perfect,” Daddy Bill murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple that felt far too tender given what had just happened. “You’re learning so quickly, Little Seventy-One.”
They held me for another moment, letting me catch my breath, before Daddy Ed spoke. “Time to get you ready for bed.”
I couldn’t find my voice to respond. They guided me to lean against the counter while Daddy Bill retrieved a tube of cream from the black case. My legs trembled as he moved behind me.
“Bend forward again,” he instructed. “Elbows on the counter.”
I obeyed automatically, my body too wrung out to resist. The cream was cool when he applied it to my burning bottom, his hands gentle as he worked it into the tender skin. Despiteeverything, the relief was immediate. The soothing sensation made me sigh.
“This will help with the soreness,” he explained, his fingers massaging the cream into every inch of my punished flesh. “We discipline our bad girls thoroughly, but we also take care of them.”
When he finished, Daddy Ed was already holding a fresh diaper. They worked together with jarring efficiency—threading the cloth between my legs, fastening it snugly at my hips. The padding pressed against my oversensitive, newly bare flesh and I whimpered.
“Come on,” Daddy Bill said, taking my arm. “Let’s get you into bed.”
They led me back to my room, each step making the diaper rustle and shift against my bare pussy. The hallway seemed longer now, the pastel walls closing in as exhaustion finally began to overtake the adrenaline that had been keeping me upright.
Inside my room, Daddy Ed pulled back the pink duvet while Daddy Bill guided me to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress was softer than I expected, and I sank into it with a small sound of relief. My ass still throbbed despite the cream, and the diaper provided an unwelcome cushion against the soreness.
“Lie back,” Daddy Bill said gently.
I did, my head sinking into the pillow. Above me, I could see the chain attached to the wall, the pink cuffs dangling from it. My stomach clenched as Daddy Ed reached for my right wrist.
“No,” I whispered, but it came out weak, barely audible.
“You’ll sleep better restrained,” Daddy Ed explained in that clinical tone. “Bad girls often try to touch themselves during the night. This prevents that.”
The cuff closed around that wrist with a soft click, then the left. My arms were stretched above my head, not uncomfortably tight but definitely secure. I tugged experimentally and felt no give in the chain.
Daddy Bill pulled the duvet up over my body, tucking it around me with a tenderness that made my chest ache. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and pink—a vibrator, I realized with fresh horror. Bullet-shaped, wireless, with a remote control.
