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)
“This is where you’ll spend the night,” Daddy Pete said, his voice neutral as he unlocked the door. “Tomorrow morning, like I told you, the parole board will evaluate your case.”
I stepped inside, still clutching the blanket around my shoulders. I sat down on the bed, looking up at Daddy Pete. His weathered face had a strange gentleness to it that I hadn’t expected from a man who ran a facility like this. The blanket still wrapped around my shoulders felt like meager protection against the vulnerability of my situation.
“Will…” I began, my voice catching as I tried to form the question. “Will any daddies be coming to my cell tonight?” The words came out tinged with both fear and a shameful hint of excitement that I couldn’t quite hide.
Daddy Pete’s expression softened further. “No, sweetheart, you’ve earned your rest. You should be very proud of what you did tonight.”
Something about his kindness and the validation of my efforts made me feel strangely bold. I swallowed hard, hardly believing what I was about to ask.
“Am I… am I allowed to…” I couldn’t quite look him in the eye as I forced the words out. “Am I allowed to masturbate?”
To my surprise, Daddy Pete smiled with understanding rather than disapproval. His eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that reminded me of a benevolent grandfather rather than a strict warden.
“Tonight, you’re allowed to play with yourself and to come,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, but kind. “I think you’ve earned that privilege.”
He stepped further into the cell, moving to the wall beside my bed. His fingers pressed against what looked like an ordinary panel of the wall, but it slid open to reveal a small cupboard I hadn’t noticed before. From inside, he withdrew a pink wand vibrator—sleek and modern, with multiple settings visible on its handle.
“Here,” he said, handing it to me. The vibrator felt heavy in my palm, its surface smooth and cool against my skin.
Before I could think of what to say, Daddy Pete leaned down and wrapped his arms around me in a brief, but genuine hug. The gesture was so unexpected, so paternal, that tears sprang to my eyes.
“Get some rest, Louisa,” he said as he stepped back. “If you do play with your little pussy, it should help settle you down. Tomorrow will be a big day for you.”
With that, he left the cell, the lock clicking into place behind him. I sat motionless on the bed, the vibrator in one hand, the other still clutching the blanket around my shoulders.
Alone now, I set the blanket aside and examined the vibrator more closely. It was clearly expensive, with a silicone head and what looked like at least ten different intensity settings. The thought of using it sent a flush of heat through my body, despite everything I’d already experienced tonight.
I knew I was being watched. The small camera in the upper corner of the cell wasn’t exactly hidden, its red light blinking steadily in the dimness. But instead of making me feel self-conscious, the knowledge that unknown eyes might be observing me only intensified the warmth spreading between my legs.
What would Jax think if he could see me?
CHAPTER 25
Jax
I watched Louisa in her cell from the command center of Selecta’s criminal law enforcement unit. I gazed intently at the monitor as my little girl sat on the edge of the cell bed, turning the pink vibrator over in her hands. Her expression shifted from curiosity to something darker, more primal. She glanced up at the camera, and for a moment I could have sworn she was looking directly at me.
She set the vibrator aside and reached for the pillow, placing it deliberately in the center of the narrow bed. My breath caught as she positioned herself over it, bottom raised high, exactly as I’d taught her. The perfect position for punishment.
“Jesus,” I whispered, leaning closer to the screen. Something powerful and unexpected tightened in my chest as I watched her begin to move against the pillow, her hips working in small, needy circles. Her face was turned to the side, pressed against the mattress, eyes half-closed in remembered pleasure or anticipated pain—perhaps both.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The way her bottom moved, the little shivers that ran through her body—it was like I could read every thought passing through her mind. My little girl wasn’t just seeking relief; she had clearly decided to perform, to put on a deliberate show for whoever might be watching. For me. She knew, somehow—or perhaps she just hoped—that her daddy would be monitoring her.
“Please, Daddy,” she moaned, her voice coming through the speakers with startling clarity. “I promise I’ll be good… please don’t whip me anymore. My pussy is so sore… my bottom hole hurts so much… but… but… please… please fuck me, Daddy… please fuck me so hard…”