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)
Then I would be free. Then I could figure out who I really was, separate from what they were making me.
I had to believe that. Because the alternative—that I was genuinely becoming their good little bad girl—was too terrifying to contemplate.
On my second weekiversary at Project Dollhouse, as I couldn’t help thinking of it, all ten of the daddies came together to get us in the Workshop, at the end of our morning coding session.
“We’re having a special celebration today,” Daddy Ben announced to the Workshop as all the daddies filed in. “Our Little Fifty-Three has been placed with a very important client. We’ll be saying goodbye to her this evening.”
My stomach dropped. Emily was leaving? I glanced over at her station and saw her face light up with an expression I’d never seen before—pure, unguarded joy.
As they led us to the cafeteria, the hall passed by me in a blur of anxious thoughts. I tried to focus on my steps, tried not to think about Emily leaving, but my mind kept circling back to it. She’d been my guide here, the one who’d taught me the rules. Without her, Joyce would be the Trusty, I guessed. I’d gotten used to special duty in the showers, which happened every few days, on a schedule it seemed only Emily and the daddies understood. I didn’t know how it would be serving another girl that way, though.
The weight of these realizations settled on my shoulders as we filed into the cafeteria. The room had been transformed—streamers hung from the ceiling, and a table along one wall held trays of food that actually looked appetizing instead of institutional. The daddies stood in clusters, talking and laughing in a way I’d never seen them do before.
The center of the floor had been cleared out, and gym mats laid there. I swallowed hard as I wondered what that meant.
Emily stood at the far end of the room, the center of attention, still in her pink uniform but glowing with excitement. I made my way over to her, my heart hammering with questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answered.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “So you’re really leaving?”
She turned to me, her sharp features softening. “Yeah. Tonight, actually. Daddy Kevin is sending a car for me in an hour.”
“Daddy Kevin?” I couldn’t keep all ten of them straight, but I didn’t think that was the name of any of the Project Dollhouse daddies.
“Kevin Isilcross,” she explained, her voice dropping slightly. “Billionaire tech guy. My daddies took me to a sampling suite on the first floor yesterday to meet him.” Her cheeks flushed slightly. “They watched him spank me and fuck me in all my holes. He was… you know, pretty thorough. But also really impressed with my coding portfolio.”
I felt my own face heat at her casual description. “And you’re okay with this? With going to serve him?”
“Okay with it?” Emily laughed, a genuine sound of delight. “Pam, he offered me five million dollars. Five million. To serve him and work on his app’s code. I’ll have my own apartment in his building, my own workspace. They say I won’t be fully rehabilitated for another year—if I behave myself, that is. When I am, though, I’ll be rich and free.”
“That’s… that’s amazing,” I managed, trying to feel happy for her and mostly succeeding.
She studied my face for a long moment, and I saw something shift in her expression. “You’re falling in love with them, aren’t you? Your daddies.”
The words made my whole body flash hot. “What? No, I’m—”
“I can see it in your eyes,” she said gently. “The way you’re reacting to the idea that you’ll get sold too. It’s written all over your face, Pam.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. Because she was right. God help me, she was right.
“That didn’t happen to me,” Emily continued, her voice taking on a thoughtful quality. “I like my daddies. They’re good men who helped me become better at what I do. But I’m fine with leaving. Actually, I’m excited about it. More freedom, more opportunities.” She reached out and squeezed my hand. “I hope we can stay friends. Maybe when we’re both fully rehabilitated, we can get coffee or something.”
“I’d like that,” I whispered, my throat tight.
The realization crashed over me in waves. I had fallen in love with both of them. Daddy Bill with his warm brown eyes and gentle hands. Daddy Ed with his analytical mind and the way he saw straight through to my core. It wasn’t just Stockholm syndrome. It wasn’t just survival.
They’d unlocked something in me. They’d seen my potential—not just as a coder, but as a person. They’d pushed me harder than anyone ever had, demanded more from me than I’d thought I could give. And in doing so, they’d revealed a need I’d never acknowledged: the need for abject submission to a man’s sexual pleasure. The need to surrender completely to four enormous hands and two huge, hard cocks, and somehow to feel remade by the degradation and the discipline.