“Time for your session, Little Sixty-Eight,” one of them said.
I couldn’t keep my eyes from traveling over there as Keiko saved her work and stood, following them out without a word. The door closed behind them and I felt a spike of something like jealousy. She was going to be with her daddies. She was going to get their attention, their touch, their approval.
Session. What did that mean? I felt my tummy flutter at the images that filled my mind, and I realized that my left hand had drifted down under the desk to the front of my diaper.
“Don’t,” Emily said, her voice sharp, but in warning rather than in threat. “You don’t want to find out what happens to girls who touch themselves without permission.”
I looked over to see her gazing back at me steadily, her eyes unreadable.
“Get that hand up,” she told me. “Remember that you’ve got a sensor down there.”
My cheeks blazing, I pulled my hand up and put it back on my keyboard. I turned back to my screen, trying to focus on the tutorial. The next module dealt with payload delivery mechanisms—how to install surveillance software on an attacker’s machine without detection. It was genuinely clever work, the kind of thing that would have excited me under different circumstances.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened again. Another pair of daddies came for Shaniqua, and I watched her leave with that same unwelcome ache in my chest.
Then it was just Joyce and me and Emily, working at our stations. The tutorial continued, walking me throughincreasingly complex scenarios. I found myself getting increasingly absorbed, my mind engaging with the problems in that familiar way that had always been my escape from the general shittiness of my life.
I was deep into a particularly complex scenario about mimicking authentication protocols when the door opened again. This time, when I looked up, my heart did a complicated stutter in my chest.
Daddy Bill and Daddy Ed.
They walked directly to my station, and I felt my whole body respond to their presence. My nipples hardened. My pussy clenched. The plug in my ass seemed to press deeper, reminding me of their control over every part of me.
“Little Seventy-One,” Daddy Bill said, his voice carrying that warm authority that made my stomach flip. “Save your work. It’s time for your session.”
I fumbled with the keyboard, my fingers suddenly clumsy as I saved the tutorial progress. When I stood, my legs felt weak, the diaper as always feeling foreign and shameful between them. I saw Emily glance over with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Follow us,” Daddy Ed said.
They led me out of the Workshop and down the hallway. Not back to my room, I realized, but in the opposite direction. We passed several doors before stopping at one marked ‘Daddy Suite 2B.’ Daddy Bill pressed his palm to the scanner and the lock clicked.
Inside was a space that looked nothing like the rest of the facility. The room was warmly decorated—rich wood furniture, aplush area rug, soft lighting. Through an open door I could see a king-sized bed dominating another room, and I tried not to think about what might happen there. A leather sofa sat against another wall, with a coffee table in front of it, and there was also a high-backed wooden chair that seemed slightly out of place.
The door closed behind us with a soft click.
“We watched you this morning, Little Seventy-One,” Daddy Ed said, moving to stand in front of me. “We saw everything that happened in the showers.”
My face burned hot. They’d watched. Of course they’d watched. There were cameras everywhere.
“You did very well,” Daddy Bill added, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back. “Pleasuring Fifty-Three like that was difficult, I know. We’re proud of how you performed.”
The praise made that treacherous warmth bloom in my chest again. I hated how much I wanted to hear those words, how much I craved their approval.
“You can earn your panties today,” Daddy Ed continued, his blue eyes studying my face. “And your uniform. If you please your daddies the way you pleased your sisters.”
My breath caught. Real clothes. Not just a diaper. The promise of it made me realize how desperately I wanted to cover myself, to have some small measure of dignity back.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, the words coming easier now. “Please. I’ll be good.”
“We know you will,” Daddy Bill said. “Now, it’s time for your inspection. Let’s get that diaper off you.”
I watched in confusion as he and Daddy Ed moved to the couch and sat down.
“Come here, bad girl,” Daddy Ed said, his blue eyes narrowing a bit as if he meant to note my response with the utmost precision. “Stand right in front of your daddies.”
My knees wobbled as I made my way over, my heart racing. Even with my daddies sitting down, my eyes were only a few inches higher than theirs as I stood looking at their much-too-handsome faces.
“Let’s get that diaper off,” Daddy Bill repeated.
