Daddy tips my chin back, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “I’ve spoken to Yamal. He has records on all the other human pets who have been purchased. Guess how many of them are allowed to walk on two legs?”
I try to lower my eyes, but Daddy pinches my chin. Licking my lips, I mutter, “None?”
“That’s right. And very few are permitted to use a receptacle other than diapers to go potty. There are good reasons for both. With regards to walking, it’s a very bad idea to set a precedent that gives a pet that much freedom. Walking leads to running and skipping and climbing, and all manner of things that cause accidents. I won’t have you doing anything dangerous. You are not permitted to leave a room on your own. And you’re definitely not ever going to have permission to climb onto furniture or reach for things I did not hand you.
“I may occasionally allow you to stand in order to bathe you in the shower or fix your hair while you’re between my knees, but as a means of getting from point A to point B—no. End of discussion. Do not ask again. If I ever change my mind, it will be onmyterms, not yours. If you mention it again, I will strip you naked, and you can spend the day in your kennel on a pee pad. It won’t be pleasant.”
I wince. I’m aware Daddy has a kennel. He hasn’t forced me to enter it yet. I’ve been worried such a day is coming. It’s a small cage next to his desk, where it ominously mocks me every time I look at it. I would barely be able to sit upright in it. And if I were to lie down, I would have to pull my knees up to my chest. The thought of sitting on a pee pad, covered in my own urine for any length of time, makes me think twice about misbehaving.
“As for diapers,” Daddy continues, “it’s simply not practicalto allow pets to pee in a receptacle. We’ve discussed this. I would have to stop working to take you to the bathroom. It would require removing your clothes, holding you over the potty, and cleaning you up. Another precedent Yamal has advised against. Again, one more word about using the toilet will land you in the kennel for the day.”
I try not to cry. “Yes, Sir.”
He kisses me briefly on the lips. “The most important thing for you to understand, Little pet, is that you are my world. It pleases me to take care of you in every way. I prefer that you become completely dependent on me. That includes carrying you when we go out, feeding you, and changing you. I’m not willing to give up any of those. Eventually, you’ll forget how it felt to walk on two legs and stop mourning the loss. You’ll also give up trying to hold in your urine and become diaper-dependent. Both of those are my goals. Try to accept that I will always be your caretaker, and you will always be my Little pet.”
More tears slip down my cheeks, but Daddy wipes them away with the pads of his thumbs. “I know you will be sad sometimes, Little pet, but I hope you will be happy far more often. I want to please you. And I will in every way I can that doesn’t compromise your safety or my desire to take care of your basic needs.”
I lean into his chest and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’ll try, Daddy.” And I will. I mean it. I’m trying to see things his way. I want to please him because I like it when he praises me. And I really like it when he rewards me.
“I have a surprise for you, Little pet.”
I’m shocked that he would change to such a joyful tone after the morning we’ve had, but he turns and opens his desk drawer to lift something out. When he holds it up, I gasp.
He chuckles. “Do you know what this is, Zoey?”
I shake my head. I’m pretty sure I knowexactlywhat it is, but I’m hoping I’m wrong.
“Yamal mentioned this when we saw him on that first day. It’s a glass dildo. Daddy is going to put it in your cunt and strap it tight. Your pussy will stretch around it all day, helping remind you who you belong to. Hopefully, at the end of the day, you’ll be so horny, you’ll be ready to take Daddy’s cock.”
I sit taller, trembling while I consider his words. I really want him inside my body. He’s been preparing me with his evil tongue for a week. I’m plenty stretched out. This glass dildo is going to drive me mad all day. Every time I move, I’ll be aware of it inside me.
And that’s precisely the point.
NINETEEN
It’s a long morning. I can’t focus, and who could blame me? Even when I try to lie on the giant, fluffy pillow Daddy put in the playpen, I can’t stop squirming. The glass dildo doesn’t let me forget it’s there.
I nearly died on the spot when he slid it inside me. He said that since I wanted to stand so badly, I could do so while he thrust the dildo into my body. And that’s exactly what he did. He made me suck it into my mouth to get it wet—as if that were necessary—and then pushed it inside me so far that I rose onto my toes. I held my breath while he attached the straps to it, securing everything around my waist so it wouldn’t fall out.
I’ve never been so aroused, and though I’ll never tell him this, I’m the most horny when I pee while wearing the stupid fake cock.
Who am I kidding? He knows. He’s never smirked so much since I met him. I don’t know how he manages to get any work done. He sits at that giant desk all day, talking on the phone and doing things I don’t understand on his computer.
I’m not allowed to make a single noise while Daddy works.He impressed that upon me yesterday when he started back full-time. I don’t dare break that rule. I can’t imagine what he would do to punish me if I interrupted him on a call.
In order to help me remember to remain mute, he lets me have a pacifier all day. I’m beyond addicted to it now. He takes it away when he’s not working, but there’s no doubt I’m out of sorts without it.
Daddy takes a break at lunch to eat and feed me. He holds me on his lap, bouncing me intentionally, because he knows the dildo is driving me bonkers.
It’s midafternoon when a loud noise fills the room. An alarm.
My first instinct is to sit upright, panic racing through me. I heard this sort of warning on the space station. It happened whenever there was a potential crisis, so everyone would show up to fix the problem and avoid catastrophic failures.
My heart is racing as Daddy’s phone rings seconds after the alarm starts blaring. I can’t hear him, but I don’t like the look on his face.
I’m wondering if there’s a fire. The alarm on this planet obviously doesn’t signal the sort of possibilities we had on the space station. There’s no concern for a hole in the building. Even if a window blew out, we would still have oxygen. There’s no fear of getting sucked into space. No worry of cold or heat or drowning or anything I can think of, besides fire.
Daddy’s face is tight as he sets the phone down, leaps up, and grabs me from the playpen. I expect him to cover me and carry me from what must be a burning building, but instead, he sets me on the floor in front of his desk, reaches under the center, and touches something under the desktop.
