“Yes, sir,” I responded automatically, my breathing quickening both from the increased exertion and my inappropriate thoughts.
Rudy’s eyebrow rose slightly at my use of ‘sir,’ but he said nothing. For the next twenty minutes, he put me through a series of exercises—squats, lunges, push-ups—all performed without a stitch of clothing below my waist. I felt my body responding to the workout, sweat glistening on my skin as my muscles warmed.
Throughout it all, Rudy maintained his professional demeanor, correcting my form with clinical touches and curt instructions. But once or twice, I thought I caught his gaze lingering on my freshly shaved pussy or the curve of my ass as I bent into a downward dog position.
“Final set,” he announced, positioning me in front of a full-length mirror. “Fifteen glute bridges, then we’re done.”
I stared at my reflection, flushed and sweaty, as I lowered myself to the mat. The position required me to lie on my back, knees bent, feet flat on the floor. As I pushed my hips upward for the first repetition, I couldn’t help noticing how the movement exposed me completely.
“Higher,” Rudy instructed, his large hand suddenly on my lower back, guiding me into a more pronounced arch. “Mr. Walton wants your glutes and core strengthened.”
“Why?” I gasped, completing the third repetition.
Rudy’s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his eyes. “Mr. Walton believes a disciplined body leads to a disciplined mind. And he wants you… prepared for whatever he requires of you.”
The implication sent a shameful heat through my core that had nothing to do with the exercise. By the time I finished the set, my thighs were trembling not just from exertion.
“Good work,” Rudy said, offering me a towel. “Time to get you cleaned up for the seamstress.”
He led me to a shower area at the back of the gym. Unlike the bathroom attached to my bedroom, this space was completely open, with multiple showerheads along a tiled wall and no privacy curtains.
“Shower thoroughly,” Rudy instructed, leaning against the wall. “Pay special attention to where you’ve been sweating most.”
I stepped under the spray, turning my back to him as I reached for the soap. The water felt heavenly against my heated skin, washing away the sweat and tension. I tried to focus on thephysical sensations, to block out the knowledge that Rudy was watching me soap my breasts, my stomach, between my legs.
“Don’t forget your bottom,” he called out, his voice echoing in the tiled space. “Your daddy is very particular about cleanliness there.”
My cheeks burned as I reached behind to wash my ass, knowing he could see everything. I rinsed quickly, eager to be done with this public display.
When I finished, Rudy handed me a fluffy pink towel. I dried myself hastily, expecting him to re-diaper me as Mateo had done. Instead, he handed me a short pink robe.
“The seamstress will need access to your measurements,” he explained as I belted the robe around my waist. “Your daddy wants you to wear this until she’s finished.”
CHAPTER 10
Jax
I was sitting with Esme Leopold, one of Selecta’s most experienced assessors, when Rudy led Louisa into the living room. Esme was an elegant woman in her fifties, with sharp eyes behind stylish glasses and an air of composed professionalism. She rose as Louisa entered, her gaze clinical as it swept over my little girl.
“This is the one you mentioned,” she said, not quite a question. Esme spoke for Louisa’s benefit: in fact she headed up the small team of assessors assigned to Louisa’s case, and thus knew exactly who Louisa was. Her voice carried the subtle accent of someone educated in Europe’s finest schools, though I personally knew that she had grown up outside Detroit.
“Yes,” I confirmed, watching Louisa’s reaction carefully. “Little Lulu, come here.”
Louisa hesitated, her eyes darting between Esme and me. The flush on her cheeks told me everything I needed to know about her emotional state—embarrassed, uncertain, and yetundeniably aroused by her predicament. The perineal sensor data confirmed it, when I glanced at my watch; her readings showed elevated arousal despite her obvious discomfort.
“Remove your robe and stand in front of Ms. Leopold,” I instructed, keeping my voice calm but firm.
Louisa’s fingers clutched at the belt of her robe. “Please, Daddy,” she whispered, the childish title slipping out naturally now, “do I have to?”
“Yes,” I replied simply. “Now.”
With trembling hands, she untied the belt and let the robe fall open. After another moment of hesitation, she slipped it off completely and stood naked before us, her freshly shaved pussy and the red marks still visible on her bottom fully displayed to Esme’s professional scrutiny.
Esme circled her slowly, making small sounds of consideration. “Excellent proportions,” she commented, as if appraising a sculpture. “Turn, please.”
Louisa turned in a slow circle, her eyes downcast, her breathing shallow with humiliation.
“What did you have in mind for her wardrobe?” Esme asked me, gesturing for Louisa to stop turning.
