My eyes roll back, and I lift my hips.
More. Ohheavens. More.
Suddenly, I’m on top of the universe. I’m going to fly. There’s a moment of total suspension. I can’t hear or see anything. I’m floating. It’s blissful. It doesn’t last long enough. Seconds. And then euphoria, just like he said.
I think all my cells come apart and have to be pieced back together as waves of the most intense pleasure consume me. My channel grips his finger hard, pulsing around it. My clit doesthe same between his fingers. I jerk violently from head to toe, unable to control the tremors.
When it’s over, I slump against his thighs, panting, unable to move a single muscle.
But I’m smiling. Now I understand what all the fuss is about. Holy heavens. How often is he going to dothatto me?
ELEVEN
For the rest of the day, I’m too exhausted to misbehave. All I do is drink my bottles and sleep. Daddy says it’s normal. I’m still recovering from the drug they used to knock me out, plus the gravitational pull.
I think my inability to stay awake has more to do with emotional overload. So much has changed in my life in such a short time, and I’m struggling to process it or come to terms with it.
I’m a slave.A pet.
Yozef owns me. He’s my Daddy.
I keep reminding myself of these facts over and over, but it’s difficult to accept them.
He’s going to train me to obey him, and now I know exactly how he will reward me for good behavior. One taste of nirvana was enough to leave me salivating for more. My breasts are still swollen, my nipples are still tender, my clit is still quivering, and my channel is clenching around nothing. Even hours later.
He can and will make me a slave to my own body with his wicked ways.
Yozef is gentle and kind, taking care of me every time I wakeup. Changing me, feeding me, even rocking me as though I were an infant. I want to ask him if I can use the toilet, but it doesn’t seem prudent. Besides, I’m too tired to care.
I wince every time he locks me in the crib. That’s what he calls it, but it’s a cage. A kennel.A jail. I don’t have freedom, and I’m reminded of that each time the top of my prison locks into place a few inches above my head.
He’s right.
Well, he’s right about a lot of things. Apparently, he learned about the girls who were sold before me. Perhaps from Yamal, the doctor who seems to have treated most of them and is conducting a study on human behavior.
Nevertheless, whoever decided I should be forced to sleep on my back without room to turn over or even lift my knees to close them was right. I’m being conditioned to keep my thighs spread. It makes me feel vulnerable, just like Daddy said.
He covers me, but he does so strategically, draping the blanket around me in a way that leaves my nipples exposed. The fact that he can peer over the top of the cage and stare at my naked breasts while I sleep makes me both infuriated and aroused.
Those two feelings are constantly at war in my confused mind. I’m angry that I’ve been essentially kidnapped and sold into slavery. It doesn’t matter what softer words anyone chooses to use to describe my reality. At the end of the day, those are the hard facts.
Yeah, it fills me with rage, but at the same time, I’m growing more and more physically attached to my owner. It’s the drugs I was injected with. I know that. But I can’t change anything. I’m drawn to him. He’s all I can think about when I’m awake, and I have a tendency to dream about him when I’m asleep.
As much as I want to shout and kick him, those are never myfirst thoughts. Each time I wake up, I look around frantically, hoping he’s nearby, needing his touch.
It’s as though I can’t breathe properly until he lifts me into his arms and cradles me against his chest. I look forward to him opening my diapers because I crave the intimate contact. My body reacts to him, arousal consuming me.
When he stares at my naked body, I get wet between my legs. I watch him, knowing from the look in his eyes that he feels the same pull. He’s holding back. I bet he wants to put his erection in me. It’s out of the kindness of his heart that he hasn’t done so.
That alone tells me he cares. Under the bluster and rules and punishments, Daddy cares about me. He doesn’t want to actually injure me. And that’s what would happen if he put his penis in me without stretching my pussy first.
I wonder how many days he will work on widening my…my cunt, before he claims me. And what about pregnancy? Will we have a baby together? How large would it be? Any offspring of ours would likely kill me during childbirth. Plus, what would my status be? If Iamthe Baby around here, what would our children think?
These are my latest concerns as I wake from yet another nap. I think it’s morning this time, though. I probably slept longer than the previous times.
Daddy comes to me quickly, as usual, and I have the wherewithal to wonder how that’s possible. When I look around, I finally notice the camera angled at me from a post above my crib. He monitors me.
Once again, I have that mixed sensation. I should be enraged that he’s filming me, but the other emotion is slowly taking up a larger percentage. Instead of being eighty percent furious and twenty percent pleased, I’m becoming about fortypercent angry and sixty percent elated that he comes to me so quickly, and he’salwayssmiling.
