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)
The chain, about a foot long, stretched almost far enough to make me wonder whether I could twist myself enough to manage still to touch my pussy. I realized that I could definitely touch my nipples, which surprised me, because I had wondered if that might represent the thing I was supposed to figure out about why my daddies were chaining me to my wall this way. Then I remembered that if I could touch my pussy, I still wouldn’t be able to feel it through the awful panties.
“It’s not a lot of room,” Daddy Phil said, clearly responding to my testing the length of the chain. His voice didn’t have any sympathy in it, and the tone made me wonder again about what they meant me to figure out about being chained to the wall of my bedroom. “But you’ll get used to it.”
“Good night, honey,” Daddy Jacob’s voice said from behind me. “Try to get some sleep.”
Daddy Phil rubbed my shoulder briefly. Then his hand moved down, over my ribs, across my tummy. He put it between my legs and squeezed firmly. I could feel the pressure, again, but the sob that came from my throat was of unsatisfied need and terrible frustration at the utter lack of erotic stimulation that pressure carried.
“Tonight you’ll learn just how completely this part of you belongs to your daddies, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to murmur in my ear.
I bit my lip and whimpered, helpless to do anything but long for more—able only to long to do whatever it took to be their little lady, or at least to do a flawless impersonation of her.
A little suspicion of what my daddies wanted me to figure out, and what it had to do with my pussy and bottom belonging to them, rose in my mind. I refused to let it take shape completely, because it just seemed too shameful, but when my daddies had left and turned out the light, it was all I could think about.
Ashley had started to moan and cry out only a little while after she had gone to bed, hadn’t she? For long minutes I waited to find out what it all meant, sure it would start to happen soon. Instead, I went to sleep, as suddenly as only seems to happen when you’re trying to stay awake for something that you’re sure is about to occur.
CHAPTER 23
Jacob
“I’m setting the alarm for six,” I told Phil after he had come into the bunk room. “We’ll keep her asleep until then.”
I had felt a lot of skepticism when Paul had told me about the tech Selecta had built into the SRDs’ beds. How could a mattress put someone to sleep, then keep them from waking up until you wanted them to get up? Something something ultrasonic something something circadian rhythm, was all I could get from the documentation, but it had worked like a charm on Ashley.
The monitor in the bunk room had the feed from the infrared camera in Marianne’s room, and the sensor data from the bed and her own perineal sensor ran along the bottom of the screen. In the upper right, her arousal read as four. Did that mean she was dreaming of her daddies?
How had she managed to work her way into my heart so quickly and so deeply? I glanced over at Phil, already in the bottom bunk and reading a book on his handheld, wondering if he felt it too.
As if he could feel my eyes, he looked up and met my gaze. The corner of his mouth turned up with a smile that seemed a bit sarcastic.
“Can’t get enough?” he asked.
I laughed, though I had to force it a bit.
“You can?” I replied.
“Well,” Phil said with a chuckle, as his smile turned into a grin, “I guess when she’s asleep and I can’t tap that gorgeous ass…” His voice trailed off as he obviously noticed that my expression had darkened a bit. Then he continued, “You’ve got it bad, Jacob?”
This time my laugh definitely sounded fake. “I guess you could say that.”
On the screen Marianne stirred a little. The mic in her room picked up a tiny whimper. I felt my heart glow and my cock stir. The sight of our bad girl in those strangely degrading punishment panties, chained to the wall, brought feelings I hadn’t suspected I had. I felt a sort of sheer bad-daddy hunger to have her again and again, my hardness plunging into her little body like a conquering emperor ravaging a vanquished town, mingled with the wish just to hold her in my arms and cuddle her for hours, along with the strangest emotion—a kind of paternal pride to have my bad girl secured in her bed, frustrated at the moment from her day of discipline, but soon to experience the pleasurable reward she had earned, a sort of shameful ecstasy Marianne Givens had never imagined.