Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
My father is an ass. He’s demanding and overbearing. He thinks women belong in the home cooking, cleaning, and raising babies. My mother is a weakling. She does his bidding and lets him control everything, including finances.
At eighteen, I left home and never returned. I swore I wouldn’t live that kind of life. I’ve dated and had sex, but I’ve never let anyone control me.
And now look at me. I’m lying in a playpen. I’m wearing a diaper, and I’ve been coerced into eagerly sucking from a bottle on a regular schedule in order to avoid the threat of that wicked clamp Dankin introduced to Papi.
That stupid clamp sits on a shelf next to my changing table so that every time I’m strapped to the table, I’m forced to look at it while Papi changes me. It’s a constant reminder.
I’m so fucked up and twisted that Papi has no understanding about why I avoid that clamp. Sure, I drain every bottle so he won’t use it on me, but it’s not because I don’t want him to attach it to my titty. It’s because I do.
I remember what it felt like well because for me it was only five days ago. When I close my eyes and go into my head, I can still feel the biting pain I felt when Dankin clamped my titty with that evil device.
The pain was grounding. Yes, it shocked me and scared the hell out of me at first, but minutes after it was removed, I was still reeling from the effects. He’d only left it dangling from my bud a few seconds, but it was long enough for me to feel the weight of it tugging on my swollen nipple.
It was long enough for me to never forget.
It was long enough for me to crave that sharp pain every time I glance at it.
It’s so embarrassing, and I never want Papi to find out. It’s a catch twenty-two because if I refuse a bottle in order to get him to torture my titty, he would know I did it on purpose because with each passing day in which I get no relief for my growing arousal, I’m more likely to come the second it grips me.
I suck harder on my pacifier, which is another thing that infuriates me. I’m addicted to it. Sure, I’m using it to avoid talking, but I also suck it hard nearly all the time. It takes my mind off the constant ball of need in my tummy, my tingling hard titties, and my throbbing pussy.
When I’m awake, I squirm constantly. Hopefully Papi thinks it’s because I’m acting my part of Baby girl, but it’s really because I’m trying to rub my pussy against the diaper.
There’s never enough contact, though. I can’t get what I need by attempting to grind my clit against the soft material, and my legs won’t come together enough to put pressure on my pussy.
The power of our bond is very strong. Denying it is impossible. He doesn’t need to pierce me with his quill for me to feel the magnetic connection. I want him. I want him inside me. I want to feel the weight of him on top of me. I want to suck his cock and swallow everything he offers me.
My need to be smothered by him is so profound I can’t stand it. Why can’t we just be two people who can’t stand to be parted and fuck like bunnies all the time? Why must I be expected to submit so deeply in order for him to give me the affection we both crave?
He’s sitting at the kitchen table working. I don’t even know what he does for a job. I’ve never asked. He didn’t tell me before we left Earth, and the only information I’ve gotten out of him since then has been what he volunteers. I certainly haven’t asked questions, though I have many.
When he finally stops working, closes his computer, and comes to check on me, he frowns. “You’re not going to get stronger and be able to walk around if you don’t try, Baby girl. I thought you were feistier than this.”
He’s got a point. Part of me knows I’m only hurting myself by being so obstinate. But I’m holding out. It’s all I have in a game I can’t win.
He moves the mobile out of the way and carefully lifts me into his arms, making sure my head is supported by his hand. I’m certain I can hold my head up on my own, but I don’t even try.
My tummy grumbles, and I know it’s time to eat, but he surprises me by lowering me into a bouncy seat. He’s put me in it a few times, but not when he’s going to feed me. He always feeds me cradled in his arms.