Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Daddy Phil had his own hands extended, as if to take mine. I saw that he had a pair of safety scissors in one of them—to cut the plastic cuffs, I understood. I desperately wanted them free, so that I could make a better attempt at escape, but that irrational thought took second place in my head to the even less logical idea that I had to refuse, at all costs, to comply with anything one of these assholes said.
I shook my head, and held my cuffed hands up against my chest, pressed firmly into the fabric of the pink scrubs. Even as Daddy Jacob bent me further down over the back of the couch, so that I had to look up at a steep angle to see into Daddy Phil’s face, I resisted. Daddy Jacob didn’t push me all the way down, but his huge hand kept me halfway to the couch’s cushions despite my continuing efforts to rise.
“Stop!” I grunted, still trying to twist away. “Let me… don’t!”
Tears sprang up in the corners of my eyes as the sheer physical force of the hand on my back seemed to tell me just how idiotic I was being, trying to get away or even to challenge these men’s government-granted supremacy over me.
“She’s a bad girl, alright,” said Daddy Phil to Daddy Jacob. “I think we need to teach her what bad girls get.”
He reached forward and took hold of my wrists and pulled them towards him without effort. Daddy Jacob pushed harder on my back, and suddenly I was stretched out over the back of the couch, going up on tiptoe in the plastic clogs the guards had given me. Daddy Phil transferred my hands to his left hand and then I felt him reach over my back and grab the hem of the scrubs top, so that he could pull it up and over my head and my arms, blinding me with the pink fabric and adding an extra layer of restraint.
“Couldn’t agree with you more,” I heard Daddy Jacob say behind me. His right hand had left my back when Daddy Phil had stripped my top over my head. Now I felt it take hold of my waistband.
“No…” I wailed, suddenly caught between defiance and pleading. “No… please…”
But the big hand didn’t hesitate. My new daddy pulled my pants down in a single motion, so that they dropped all the way to my feet.
I heard it in my head, as if someone else had started narrating my utter humiliation. Her new daddy pulled her pants down.
Her new daddy.
Oh, hell no. To my horror, I suddenly started to understand—what Daddy Phil had meant about not thinking I understood, anyway. I had something inside me, something I couldn’t fully grasp but which was dismayingly there, not truly unnoticed but rather steadfastly denied. It had just responded to Daddy Jacob’s abrupt, dominant, paternal action, in a terribly unwelcome way.
When my new daddy had pulled my pants down and bared my bottom to teach me a lesson, my pussy, smooth from the nurse’s razor, had clenched hard.
“They sent a cute pink paddle for us to use on this little bottom,” Daddy Jacob told me, his voice sounding muffled by the scrubs that covered my ears. “But sometimes Daddy will just use his hand.”
“Wait!” I cried. “Please… please… Daddy…”
I had said it in that same small voice again. And as if the helpless spasm between my thighs had unleashed a flood of related emotions and sensations, all of them equally shameful, I felt much too keenly how naked my daddies had rendered me, in an instant. I remembered what they had said about taking my clothes away, about making me earn them. I heard my voice trail off into a whimper.
Daddy Jacob put his hand on my ass, covering both cheeks in his strong grip and squeezing firmly. I cried out in shame and alarm. I tried to dance away, out of his grasp, but he just put his other arm across my waist and secured me in place, still holding my whole bottom in his fingers and his palm as if he owned it.
“The nice people who sent you to us, honey, told us that there’s a very important rule of your rehabilitation that we always have to follow. You won’t like it, but it’s going to be true for you until you learn to be an obedient little lady for your daddies.”
He spoke in such a measured tone, and he moved his hand so possessively as he delivered his lesson, that part of me started to pay actual attention. My body’s wayward movements grew calmer, and to my distress I felt my hips start to respond to his rhythm on my backside.
“What?” I sobbed. “What is it… Daddy?”
Daddy Jacob leaned over. I could feel his breath through the fabric over my ear as he murmured it.