Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
The observation made too much sense. I thought about how my mind had felt clearer in the Workshop this morning despite—or maybe because of—the plug in my ass and the diaper around my hips. How the humiliation had somehow sharpened my focus instead of dulling it.
Again the urge to give in rose in me, and this time it seemed like the voice of defiance had grown softer.
“It’s working,” I admitted quietly. “I hate that it’s working, but it is.”
Emily’s lips curved in a slight smile. “That’s the first step to acceptance, new girl. Understanding that resistance is pointless because they’ve already figured out how to make our brains work the way they want.”
The door opened again and Mr. Jenkins entered, his imposing frame filling the doorway. “Five minutes, ladies. Then back to the Workshop.”
We finished our meals quickly, clearing our trays in silence. As we lined up to leave, I found myself between Shaniqua and Joyce, both of them in their diapers while I wore my earned panties and uniform. The contrast seemed terribly stark. Clearly status could shift very quickly here.
But I also felt something else—a strange sense of possibility. For the first time since my arrest, I had a plan that didn’t involve just surviving. I had an idea that might actually change things, that might give me some small measure of agency in this place where everything was controlled.
“Ugh,” Emily said in my ear as we filed out. “I’m so horny and my ass hurts so much. My daddies didn’t let me come. They said they thought I’d been greedy when I queened you this morning, so they just paddled me.”
I felt my face go bright red as I remembered her riding my face, grunting in pleasure as she had used me, her pussy’s fragrance in my nose and its musky taste on my lips.
“Sorry?” I said, trying to turn my embarrassment and helpless arousal into a joke.
Emily laughed and punched me lightly on the shoulder.
“Not your fault, new girl. But I’m going to queen you even harder tomorrow unless they let me come at bedtime.”
She walked on ahead while I brought up the rear, trying to sort through the welter of emotions and sensations she had just so casually raised in me. I hadn’t gotten anywhere with that project when I slid into my chair in the Workshop. Instead, I felt my own bottom’s soreness, and I felt perversely happy to dwell on that instead of on Emily’s threat.
I blushed anew at the way I felt thoroughly disciplined not just outside, in my spanked cheeks, but inside too, where my daddies’ enormous cocks had taken my rear end’s virginity and left their hot seed to trickle out into my newly granted panties. They had taught me a terrible lesson: the kind of lesson a bad girl gets. The kind that teaches a bad girl to make better choices.
I bit my lip as I regarded the monitor in front of me, partly in discomfort but partly in renewed arousal as I felt the reminders of how my daddies had taken me in hand. I would give in, and see what I could do to get better at… well, at everything really.
From the main menu of the Project Dollhouse coding environment, I chose New Project.
CHAPTER 16
Bill
Three days after Pam had initiated what Ed had baptized Operation Hornet, he and I met with Georgia in the second floor conference room to talk about our bad girl’s development. I watched Georgia pull up the data streams on her tablet, her pale blue eyes scanning the metrics with that clinical intensity I’d come to respect over the years. Ed sat to my right, his specialized glasses displaying additional feeds I knew he was parsing simultaneously.
“Operation Hornet is exceeding projections,” Georgia began, her composed exterior showing the slightest crack of genuine enthusiasm. “Pam’s architecture for the banking honeypot is sophisticated—beyond anything the bad girls have done so far, let alone what we typically see at this stage for a new girl.”
Ed weighed in from his technical expertise. “I’m a little blown away, frankly. Pam’s incorporated adaptive response protocols that adjust the fake system’s behavior based on attacker methodology. It’s brilliant work.”
“The other girls have responded well to her leadership too,” Georgia added, putting a graph of aggregated datasets from the bad girls on the screen. “Even Shaniqua and Joyce have elevated their output a little. It seems like they’re getting a bit competitive, which is all to the good.”
I leaned back in my chair, processing this information alongside my own observations from our sessions with Pam over the past three days. She’d been remarkably compliant—enthusiastic, even. The way she’d taken our cocks, the gratitude in her voice when she thanked us for discipline, the eagerness with which she’d pleasured us with her mouth.