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But in the split second after Daddy Jacob asked the question, I had the confusing feeling that “Great, Daddy,” really did describe how my day had gone. I had feltsafe, above all—as crazy as that seemed given my nudity and the soreness in my backside and between my thighs. I hadn’t felt that way in forever. And not just safe: I realized looking into my daddies’ handsome bearded faces that I felt like I understood my life—again, despite that idea making zero sense from the perspective of, well, ordinary reality. Should I feelgoodabout somehow beginning to accept that the corporate-controlled justice system had turned me into the sexual servant of two demanding daddies?
I didn’t say, “Great, Daddy.” Another part of me, small but insistent, with my clever bad girl logic on its side—the way of thinking I had learned over so much longer a period of time than I had known Daddy Jacob and Daddy Phil—made me twist my mouth to the side as I looked up at Daddy Jacob, and say, “Fine? You have a message from human resources.”
I handed him the slip of paper from the message book. I tried to make my face stay fixed in its petulant expression, but I felt my heartbeat speed up a little. I couldn’t help hoping, as silly as it seemed and as trivial as a single phone message was, that I had done a good job with writing down the information.
Daddy Jacob’s brow got a little clouded as he took the message. I had the distinct impression that he guessed I must be hiding something, and I felt heat creep into my cheeks as I kept trying to look as if I thought this whole thing—my whole new life—was bullshit.
Itwasbullshit, after all. The only reason I wanted to do a good job taking down messages, I told myself, was that I naturally didn’t want my butt to get paddled any harder than it clearly already would get paddled, given that horrifying rule about a bad girl and a sore bottom and the bad girl’s daddies fucking her.
I swallowed hard, my own forehead creasing. I twisted my mouth again, even further, angry at myself for my body’s helpless reaction to the thought of my daddies’ hard cocks inside me. Much worse, though, I couldn’t help fidgeting in my chair, as if I needed to remind myself. Somehow, in the presence of my enormous firefighter daddies, with them looming over me in their uniforms while I was naked there in the office, the effect seemed exponentially greater than it had been before they returned. I had to do everything in my power to keep a sob of need from bursting out of my chest.
“What did you do all day?” Daddy Phil asked. Daddy Jacob had taken out his mobile phone and dialed a number, looking down at the message as he entered the digits. It made no sense, but I had to push down a warm thrill of happiness to see my daddy actually using the information I’d supplied. I had to keep a stupid little smile off my face as I turned to my blue-eyed daddy.
“I did a lot of reading,” I answered him honestly, feeling my fake petulance break a little.
“Hi there,” Daddy Jacob said. He had fixed his eyes on an upper corner of the room. “That’s right. Jacob Garvey.”
Garvey.Something about the name sounded so… real? Solid? I must be making that up, though.
“About what?” Daddy Phil asked.
I focused on him and tried to tune out Daddy Jacob.
“About you,” I said, putting a mischievous little smile on my face.
“Marianne’s doing fine,” Daddy Jacob said.
I felt my cheeks turn red. I couldn’t help turning my eyes back to my brown-eyed daddy’s face. When I saw that he had stopped looking into the corner of the room and focused his gaze on me, I bit my lip hard. The heat in my cheeks seemed to spread all the way through my body.
“Hmm,” I heard Daddy Phil say. “She may be having trouble paying attention, though.”
I looked over at him, to see that he had started to undo his belt. My lips parted and my eyes went wide.
Daddy Jacob said, into the phone, “Oh, sure. Sorry about that. I’ll fill that out in the app next time.”
I glanced at him, wanting to find an excuse not to look at Daddy Phil but also needing desperately to know what my blue-eyed daddy was doing—and even more importantly, what hemeantto do. Daddy Jacob’s eyes seemed to bore into me.
“That’s right,” he said. “We used the paddle, and we had sex with her.”
Oh, no. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Daddy Jacob’s face, now, as he told Human Resources about my shameful first day as a firehouse SRD.
I watched him look over at Daddy Phil, saw my brown-eyed daddy notice and understand what my blue-eyed daddy had begun to do with his belt.
“Here’s a question,” Daddy Jacob asked the faceless human resources administrator at the other end of the line. “Should we punish her for little things? Like not paying attention for a moment?”
I felt my head start to shake. The attempt at negation, denial, refusal came as a pure reflex: my thoughts didn’t seem to have any intention of organizing themselves into anything other than confused impressions of the room, the chair, my naked bottom in the chair, suddenly tingling in a new way that somehow felt both unwelcome and terribly needful.
Somewhere to Daddy Jacob’s left, I heard Daddy Phil chuckle.
“Uh-huh,” Daddy Jacob said, his eyes fixed on mine, his brow furrowing a little. “That’s what I thought.”
My head kept shaking, slowly, then more quickly, then slowly again, as if I were trying to clear my head, though the things flowing through my mind stubbornly refused to assume any shape other than a panickyNo… nononono.
“So…” Daddy Jacob continued. “It’s a good idea just to, say, give her the belt if we think it will help her stay focused?”
My breath had started to come in little gasps.
“Sure,” my brown-eyed daddy continued. “Got it. Yeah, we’ll tell her that before we whip her.”
