“When do we get dressed?” I asked quietly, my voice hoarse from the extended use of my mouth.
She glanced at me with sympathy in her dark eyes. “Our daddies decide what we wear each day. The guards lay it out in our rooms while we’re in the showers.”
My stomach clenched. “What if they don’t leave anything?”
“Then you stay naked,” she said simply. “Or just in a diaper. It depends on what lesson they want to teach you.”
We reached my room and Mr. Jenkins gestured for me to enter. I stepped inside, my eyes immediately going to the bed where my outfit should have been laid out.
There was no pink uniform. No clothes at all.
Instead, sitting on the pink duvet was a butt plug—noticeably larger than the one from yesterday—next to a tube of lubricant and a fresh white diaper.
My breath caught in my throat. That was it. That was all they’d left me.
“Five minutes to get dressed,” Mr. Jenkins said from the doorway. “Then line up in the hall.”
He closed the door, leaving me alone with the items on the bed. I walked toward them on trembling legs, my pussy already responding in that treacherous way that made me hate myself. The plug was definitely bigger—maybe an inch and a half in diameter at its widest point, with a longer shaft than yesterday’s. Just looking at it made my ass clench in anticipation.
I picked up the tube of lube with shaking hands. This was really happening. I was going to have to put this thing inside myself, then wear nothing but a diaper to breakfast. The humiliation should have made me want to refuse, to throw the plug across the room and demand real clothes.
Instead, I felt heat pooling between my legs.
I squeezed lubricant onto my fingers and reached behind myself, finding my anus still tender from yesterday’s violation. My finger circled the tight opening, spreading the slick substance, then pressed inside. The stretch made me gasp, but I forced myself to work the lube deeper, preparing myself for what was coming.
When I couldn’t delay any longer, I picked up the plug and coated it thoroughly with lubricant. The silicone was cool and smooth in my hand. I bent forward over the bed, one hand spreading my cheeks while the other positioned the plug against my opening.
The pressure was immediate and overwhelming as I pushed. Too big. It was too big. My body resisted, clenching against the intrusion. But I kept pushing, biting my lip as the plug stretched me wider than I’d ever been stretched. The burn was intense,riding the edge between pain and something darker that made my pussy clench.
And then suddenly the widest part passed through and my body accepted it, my muscles closing around the narrow neck. The base settled against my ass and I let out a shaky breath. The fullness was incredible—I felt stuffed, claimed, impossibly aware of every inch of the plug lodged inside me.
I straightened up slowly, feeling how the movement shifted the plug. Every step I took would be a reminder. Every time I sat down, every time I bent over, the plug would press deeper, would make me remember what I was.
My hands trembled as I reached for the diaper. The cloth was thick and soft, freshly laundered. I spread it out on the bed and positioned myself over it, then brought it up between my legs. The padding pressed against my bare, still-sensitive pussy as I fastened the Velcro tabs at my hips.
I looked down at myself—naked except for the bulky diaper, my breasts exposed, the plug hidden but undeniably present. This was what my daddies had chosen for me to wear. This was how they wanted me to present myself to the other girls, to the guards, to anyone who saw me today.
And God help me, I was so wet the diaper was already absorbing it.
A knock on the door made me jump. “Time’s up, Seventy-One,” Mr. Jenkins called.
I walked to the door and opened it, my face burning as I stepped into the hallway. The other girls were already lined up, and I saw that they were all wearing their pink uniforms. I was the only one in just a diaper.
Emily’s eyes traveled over my body with obvious satisfaction. “Looks like someone’s daddies want to make a point,” she said.
CHAPTER 12
Pam
“Line up,” Mr. Jenkins instructed, and I took my place at the end of the row, my arms instinctively crossing over my breasts before I remembered his earlier command. I dropped them to my sides, the exposure making my skin prickle with awareness.
He led us down the hallway and into the cafeteria. The walk was torture—every step made the plug feel like it wanted to press deeper inside me, with only the flared base between my cheeks keeping it in place. I felt eyes on me from the girls ahead in line, from Mr. Jenkins behind us, from the obvious security cameras in the hall, from everywhere.
In the cafeteria, breakfast was already laid out—more institutional food on plastic trays. Oatmeal, fruit, toast. My stomach growled despite everything, reminding me I’d barely eaten yesterday. We took our seats at the same table as last night, and I lowered myself carefully into the plastic chair. Theplug shifted as I sat and I couldn’t suppress a small gasp. The pressure was constant now, impossible to ignore.
“Eat,” Mr. Jenkins said from his position by the door.
I picked up my spoon with shaking hands and forced myself to take a bite of oatmeal. The other girls ate in silence; it seemed like breakfast was a less social meal than dinner, as if everyone was unwilling to share the indignities bestowed by their daddies in the night—probably even to think about them.
