Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
I gave a little cry as Jax reached out almost casually with his enormous right hand to take hold of my hip and pull me toward him. He maneuvered me between his massive thighs to stand in front of him, and he held me in place there, with his hands firmly on my waist as he looked at me, his eyes still a little above mine even with him sitting down. I had the feeling that those steel-gray eyes saw straight through my defenses, and my sheer ambivalence about it, the conflict between the part of me that couldn’t help wanting him to see and the part that felt desperately afraid of what it meant, made me feel faint.
“Let’s get you out of these stolen clothes,” he said quietly, his fingers finding the hem of the t-shirt I’d taken from the apartment downstairs. He pulled it slowly over my head, his movements unhurried, as if we had all the time in the world. “Do you understand what you did wrong today, Little Lulu?”
“I… I ran away,” I whispered, my voice sounding small and childish even to my own ears.
“Yes,” he agreed, folding the shirt neatly and setting it aside. I trembled as he drew the pink sports bra over my head, too, and laid it atop the t-shirt. “You ran away from your daddies who take care of you. You stole from innocent people. You cut off the collar I gave you to keep you safe.” His fingers traced the sensitive skin where my collar had been. “That was very, very naughty of you.”
I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble. “I was scared.”
“I know you were, baby girl. But running away isn’t how we handle being scared, is it?” His hands moved to the drawstring of the sweatpants, untying it with deliberate slowness.
“No, Daddy,” I answered, my voice rising to a higher pitch as I slipped deeper into the role he’d created for me—the role that part of me seemed to crave despite my desperate bid for freedom.
“What should you have done instead?” he asked, beginning to ease the sweatpants down over my hips.
“I should have talked to you about being scared,” I answered, tears welling in my eyes. I felt so small standing there, being undressed like a child who’d gotten dirty playing outside.
“That’s right,” Jax said, nodding approvingly. He bent down and untied my shoes. I felt paradoxically terrified and cared for as he took each shoe off and set it neatly to the side.
“Your daddy is here to help you with scary feelings,” he continued.
The sweatpants pooled around my ankles, revealing the aluminum foil over the sagging granny panties beneath. “Step out.”
I obeyed, lifting each foot in turn as he guided me. Standing there in just the oversized underwear and my DIY aluminum diaper, I felt utterly vulnerable and childish.
“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice firm, but not unkind, “you will return these clothes to the nice couple on sixteen. You will apologize to them for breaking into their home and stealing their belongings. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, a tear spilling down my cheek. The thought of facing the elderly couple whose apartment I’d invaded was mortifying, but I nodded anyway.
Jax examined the makeshift interference device around my pussy and bottom. Instead of anger, his expression showed a flicker of appreciation.
“This,” Jax said, tapping the foil between my legs, “demonstrates quite a lot of intelligence, Little Lulu. Most girls wouldn’t have thought to use aluminum foil as a Faraday cage.” His lips curved into an appreciative smile. “You must have overheard my conversation with Esme about the perineal sensor we placed between your legs.”
I nodded, my cheeks burning with humiliation. “I… I heard you talking about it.”
Jax held up his wrist, showing me his sleek black watch. The digital display showed a pulsing question mark instead of numbers. “See this? Your clever little diaper has completely blocked the signal. My watch can’t read how aroused you are, or locate you.”
My stomach dropped at the confirmation that they’d been monitoring me so intimately. Even my most private bodily responses weren’t my own.
“But,” Jax continued, his voice suddenly low and terribly decisive, “I’m going to make a prediction. When I remove this aluminum shield, my watch is going to show a number. And that number will tell me exactly how aroused you are at the thought of being whipped by your daddy and then used by Daddy Rudy and Daddy Mateo.”
I shook my head frantically. “No, I’m not—I don’t want—”
“I think,” Jax interrupted, his eyes locked with mine, “my watch will show a 9. That means you’re getting very close to coming just thinking about it.”
My face twisted into what I knew must be a helpless pout of mingled shame and need. “That’s not true,” I protested weakly.