Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
I flinch. “Yes, Sir.”
He tucks his fingers into the front of my harness between my boobs and tugs me closer to him. “The lock, baby girl, goes right here.”
I look down as he threads the metal loop of the lock between the double layer of nylon where all sections come together at the clasp. Once he’s looped each section through and closed the lock, he gives it a tug and releases it. It hangs heavily at the lower swell of my breasts.
“There. I can’t possibly make you feel more restrained than that, Little one. I’d realized the clasp would be too easy for you to undo if you desired. You can’t open that lock no matter what. Only I know the combination.” He stands and guides me to my chair.
I lower onto it and wait while he adjusts the height so my feet aren’t dangling. When he pushes me in toward the desk, he leans over and kisses my forehead from behind. Next, he reaches for the lock and gives it another tug. “Hopefully this will help keep you on task. You can glance down at it any time you need to remember who’s in charge. The weight of it will calm you and help you focus.
After one more kiss, he wanders back to his desk, leaving me speechless and a little fidgety.
I reach with shaking fingers to open my laptop and shake my mouse to get it to power up. Every movement makes the padlock jiggle between my tits. The straps of the harness are tight enough I wouldn’t be able to get out of this restraint if I wanted to. It also means I wouldn’t be able to remove this diaper myself.
I shudder at the realization. I’m aroused, but I’ll have to set that emotion aside for now and let it simmer. I’m obviously not going to get pleasured until my three hours is up. By then, I’ll be aching for Daddy to touch me. I’ll also have three hours of work done. I can do this.
Chapter Ten
I have a routine. It’s working for me. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m on task and getting stuff done. The last few years of college and graduate school were spent rushing around procrastinating and leaving things to the last minute.
Those days are gone, mostly because I don’t have a choice. I’ve learned I like not having options. It’s comforting.
I’ve been on Regression Island two weeks, and with each passing day, Daddy has taken more control of my life. I’ve encouraged it. Every time he touches base with me to make sure I’m happy, I let him know I’m beyond content and make it clear he has my blessing to continue on this path.
I didn’t see this coming. I couldn’t have predicted it. If anyone would have asked me two weeks ago if I could see myself living this life, I would have told them hell no.
It wasn’t even gradual. It took less than twenty-four hours for me to know I was going to be happier here. My routine each day keeps me focused.
Every morning starts with Daddy removing my jammies and pushing a suppository into my bottom. That is my least favorite part of the day. He holds it inside me for above five minutes, my tight ring gripping his finger. I’m getting used to the feeling and might secretly even like it by now. But the next part I try to ignore.
Once he has changed me, he lets me sit on the couch and watch cartoons while I drink my morning bottle. I prefer the times when he cradles me in his lap and holds the bottle himself, but he can’t do it four times a day. He has too many other things to do.
At nine, we go into the office. I work for three hours in my harness with my padlock reminding me to stay on task. Daddy lets me have a juice bottle, which I usually finish by the end of the three hours, which means I’m desperately in need of a change at noon.
I play outside while Daddy eats lunch, and he rocks me to sleep with my nap bottle. I don’t mind napping. I’m usually tired from studying all morning.
After my nap, I’m back in the office working for another three hours. I drink my dinner bottle in my playpen and read, do puzzles, or color while Daddy fixes his dinner and eats.
I miss food. Every day I’ve wondered if Daddy would give me something besides bottles, but he hasn’t yet, and I haven’t asked him about it out of fear he might extend my days without food if I do.
I have an appointment with Dr. Morgan again tomorrow. Hopefully he’ll say I can switch to a mixed diet of soft food and smaller bottles. Anabel tells me that’s common. Eventually most Littles on the island transition to solid finger food which could be whatever Daddy is cooking. She isn’t sure how many Littles who live here are permitted to feed themselves. She hasn’t personally held a spoon or fork yet.