“Would you like that?” he prompted when I didn’t respond.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, hating how eagerly the words tumbled from my lips.
“Then you need to show me how much you want to be a good girl.” Jax turned to Rudy and Mateo who stood silently against the wall. “Gentlemen, come here.”
The bodyguards approached the table, their expressions professionally neutral despite what was about to happen.
“Take out your cocks,” Jax instructed them casually, as if asking them to check their phones. “Little Lulu needs to give them a proper greeting.”
My face flamed as both men unzipped their pants without hesitation. Rudy’s cock emerged first—thick and already half-hard. Mateo’s followed, longer than Rudy’s and darker in color. They stood on either side of my chair, their manhoods at eye level.
“Kiss them,” Jax ordered. “Show your daddies how grateful you are for the chance to earn your panties.”
My heart hammered against my ribs as I turned toward Rudy first. I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks, knew they must be bright red with humiliation. Yet beneath the shame burned something else—a molten pool of unwanted arousal that made my pussy clench inside my diaper.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips against the head of Rudy’s cock, hearing his sharp intake of breath. Then I turned to Mateo, repeating the gesture with his hardening member.
“Good girl,” Jax praised, running his fingers through my hair. “This evening, after your daily whipping, Daddy Rudy and Daddy Mateo will share you properly. Won’t that be nice?”
I couldn’t speak, just nodded mutely as the men tucked themselves away.
“For now,” Jax continued, “go back to your room and read until your workout. I want you to think about how to be a very good girl for all your daddies.”
CHAPTER 16
Jax
In my office, I called up the feed from the surveillance cameras in Louisa’s bedroom.
She sat on the edge of her bed, one of the Georgia Jones books open in her lap, but she wasn’t reading. Her eyes appeared distant and unfocused, and her fingers nervously pleated the fabric of her dress. The perineal sensor, as always, provided a more intimate look into her state of mind. Her arousal levels remained low, but her stress indicators seemed elevated—a predictable response to the morning’s events and the looming prospect of being shared with Rudy and Mateo.
I zoomed in on her face. Even in the slightly grainy resolution of the camera, I could see the turmoil in her expressive eyes. She was scared, yes, but there was something else there too—a flicker of determination that I didn’t recall seeing so intensely before.
My phone rang, and I picked it up distractedly, my eyes still focused on Louisa’s face.
Esme’s voice crackled in my ear. “Jax, you there?”
I leaned forward in my chair, glancing at the live biometric feed. “Loud and clear.”
“She’s syncing her heart rate spikes with her muscle tension,” Esme said. “Louisa’s thinking about slipping away soon. Smart, resourceful—just like I warned.”
I muted the monitor briefly. “Is this the same brand of resourcefulness you mentioned yesterday?”
“Exactly,” Esme confirmed. “She’s already plotting. Your Little Lulu is wildcatting at the thought of being shared, just like we thought.”
I unmuted and studied Louisa on screen. Her gaze flitted from the window to her book, then settled on the door. Restlessness. A faint smile curved my lips. “She’s calculating. What would Georgia Jones do, right?”
Esme laughed softly. “She focused hard on that yesterday, the algorithm thinks. Of course she’s trying to come up with an exit. You want my guess, she’s thinking of the fire door in your gym.”
I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. “Her little mind is working overtime. How much leash should I give her when she makes her move? Let Rudy and Mateo give chase immediately, or…”
“Fifteen minutes, minimum,” Esme replied decisively. “Let her think she’s gotten away. The psychological impact will be far more effective that way. When she believes she’s escaped, the ambivalence between relief and regret will be overwhelming—and then when she’s recaptured, the ambivalence in the opposite direction will break down more resistance than a quick correction ever could.”
“Fifteen minutes in this city,” I mused. “Seems risky.”
“Your bodyguards can track her through the perineal sensor. She won’t get far enough to be in real danger,” Esme assured him. “Besides, the tracking signal is broadcasting to your watch continuously. You’ll know exactly where she is, in real time.”
“You’re right,” I conceded. “The lesson needs to sink in properly.”
