Page 29 of Daddy’s Hunted Bride

Take it out, take it out, take it out. Unfortunately for me, my internal mantra does nothing to deter my tormentors as Ford forces the speculum deeper and deeper inside my bottom.

“You’re being so very brave for me, little one,” Ford praises softly, giving my bottom a gentle pat that only serves to embarrass me further. “It’s all the way in, so now we just have to open it.”

Before I can protest, there’s a soft click and the thing in my bottom grows larger, stretching me even further.

“No, Uncle Ford! It hurts, it hurts!”

Maybe if I cry enough, he’ll assume I’m actually injured and forbid Dane from ever touching me there again.

A girl can dream, can’t she?

“Shh, little fox. It’s almost over. Daddy’s right here.”

Despite myself, I do actually take some comfort from his presence. As ridiculous as it sounds, I need something, anything that might make this situation even a tiny bit more bearable and right now, that something is Dane.

Daddy.

No. I refuse to think of him that way. He might be able to force me to call him that, but I will not let him invade my innermost thoughts.

“There we go.” Ford’s gentle voice snaps me out of my miserable musings and back to reality where I am half-naked on a table with my asshole stretched wide for his sick examination. “Hmm. There’s a bit of tearing, but not more than I’d expect to see, all things considered. If you’re going to continue fucking her without proper preparation, though, I’ll want to keep a close eye on her bottom.”

“If she’s a good girl, it won’t happen again. But if it does, I’ll let you know.”

“I appreciate that. In the meantime, I’m going to apply some petroleum jelly. It will help with the healing process and it works as an antibiotic of sorts.”

Dane lets out what almost sounds like a growl. “I’ll do that,” he snaps.

God help me if his possessiveness isn’t almost… sexy.

Ugh. What is wrong with me?

I shove that question to the side as a cold gel drips into my stretched bottom hole. A moment later the speculum is pulled free, but it’s quickly replaced by Dane’s finger. Fresh humiliation crashes over me and I whine as he coats my inner walls with the healing ointment.

“My brave little fox,” he murmurs, pushing his finger ever deeper inside me. “Would you like a reward for being such a good girl for Uncle Ford?”

There is something inside me that actually does want a reward. It is, after all, the least they can do for subjecting me to these humiliating horrors.

But I already have a sneaking suspicion what that “reward” might be and I refuse to ask for pleasure from the monster who captured me, wed me, and bed me in the most perverse way possible so I shake my head.

Dane sighs and pulls his finger free of my bottom. “Stubborn brat. Come on then, let’s get you into a fresh diaper so you can go play with your cousins.”

An emotion swamps me as he swaddles me in cotton. Tears prick my eyes as that unidentified emotion settles heavy in my gut. And it isn’t until Dane settles me on the floor of the living room, surrounded by my “cousins” that I recognize that emotion for what it is.

Regret.

Dane

I am under no delusion that my little fox has given up her quest for freedom.

But watching her now, seated on her diapered bottom in the middle of our living room, I can almost convince myself she’s accepted her new life.

Almost.

Catching Axel’s eye, I raise a brow in a silent question. My eldest brother nods and I lean forward to whisper in my babygirl’s ear.

“Daddy has some things to take care of. You’ll listen to Uncle Axel or when I get back, you’ll get a second spanking from me. Understood?”

Her shoulders tense, a visible reaction to my threat, and my blood heats at the prospect of her giving me a reason to spank her now rather than later.