Brea
“I can’t believe I let you blackmail me,” I complain as Daddy fastens a diaper around me.
He’s grinning.
Meanie.
When he’s done, he leans over and kisses me briefly. “Diapering your sweet bottom isn’t something I’m doing strictly to force you to wet yourself, Little love. It serves another purpose.”
“What’s that?” I ask skeptically. He’s so devious.
He pats my pussy over the bulk. “It will keep you from masturbating.”
I gasp. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” He taps my nose. “I don’t want you playing with your pussy. Now that you’ve discovered how good it feels, I don’t want you getting any big ideas and thinking it’s okay to stick your hand or any other object between your legs so you can make yourself come.”
My jaw drops.
He nods. “Hard rule, Little love. Your orgasms are mine. All of them. You may not touch yourself without permission, and that doesn’t mean you can call me when I’m out logging and ask if you can masturbate. The answer will always beno. Anytime I let you touch yourself, it will be while I’m watching.”
I can’t breathe. He’s serious. My face heats at the thought of touching myself. I did so intentionally for days in order to keep myself from being sold. I also ended up left in the woods bleeding to death.
At no point did I get aroused from my own touch. In fact, it was almost painful. I had a hard time getting wet. It was nothing like anything I’ve experienced with Navin.
I purse my lips and twist my face to the side.
Daddy tucks his palms under me and drags me to the center of his giant bed before climbing over me. He hovers, not touching me, his hands on either side of my head, his knees on the outsides of my thighs. “What’s going through your head, Little love?” he coaxes. “I don’t like the look on your face or the fact that you just turned your head away from me.”
Will I have no privacy with this man? How is he so aware of my thoughts and feelings?
“Brea… Talk to Daddy. Surely you’re not mad or even shocked that I don’t intend to let you masturbate.”
I sigh and shake my head, still looking at the wall across the room.
Daddy tips to one side, trying to meet my gaze. “Talk to me, Little love.”
“What difference does it make?” I mutter. “You’ve made your decision. Obviously I have no say in anything.” I’m frustrated. Partly I’m mad at my own body for betraying me so badly. Why must I suddenly be so consumed with lust that it’s controlling me and causing me to make decisions I would not otherwise make?
I know it’s because he bit me and claimed me as his, but that doesn’t make my confusion over my body’s reactions any less aggravating.
Navin gathers me up in his arms and lifts me. He’s so strong that he can easily turn around and settle against the headboard, cradling me in his lap. He gently guides my cheek to his shoulder.
With both our chests bare, my breasts press against his pecs. I like how it feels, which frustrates me further. I want to be mad at him. He makes it difficult. He’s so kind and calm with me.
But he’s also just forced me to wear a diaper and ordered me not to masturbate. It’s not so much that I’m pissed at him for his edicts. It’s more that I’m furious with myself for my reactions to his demands. My stupid pussy clenches every time he issues another order.
Daddy strokes my hair and down my arm for a long time. He often kisses the top of my head as if he needs to pull me closer and inhale my scent. I get it because I want him to do those things. I feel the same need to be glued to him.
Eventually he speaks, “Tell me why you looked away with such a resigned expression, Little love. I want to know what’s going on in your head so I can react accordingly. I’m sure, in time, I’ll learn to read you better, and I’ll be able to guess what you’re thinking or feeling, but it’s our first day together. I don’t know you well enough to guess why my ordering you not to masturbate is so upsetting.”
I sigh. “It’s a stupid rule. You don’t need it. I don’t know the first thing about masturbating. I’m embarrassed.”
His hand stills on my shoulder as he stiffens. After a few seconds, he says, “You told me you masturbated in order to convince Mitchel you weren’t worth selling.”
I sniffle and burrow against him deeper, as if that’s a thing. “That’s not what I said,” I murmur. “I said I used my fingersto stretch out my pussy and break my hymen. I didn’t get any pleasure from it. I was a prisoner. I wasn’t lying in that stupid basement fucking myself to orgasm.”
Daddy forces me to lean back so he can look into my eyes. His brows are furrowed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was crass of me. But didn’t you explore your body and rub your clit to orgasm long before you were kidnapped?”
