I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble. “I was scared.”
“I know you were, baby girl. But running away isn’t how we handle being scared, is it?” His hands moved to the drawstring of the sweatpants, untying it with deliberate slowness.
“No, Daddy,” I answered, my voice rising to a higher pitch as I slipped deeper into the role he’d created for me—the role that part of me seemed to crave despite my desperate bid for freedom.
“What should you have done instead?” he asked, beginning to ease the sweatpants down over my hips.
“I should have talked to you about being scared,” I answered, tears welling in my eyes. I felt so small standing there, being undressed like a child who’d gotten dirty playing outside.
“That’s right,” Jax said, nodding approvingly. He bent down and untied my shoes. I felt paradoxically terrified and cared for as he took each shoe off and set it neatly to the side.
“Your daddy is here to help you with scary feelings,” he continued.
The sweatpants pooled around my ankles, revealing the aluminum foil over the sagging granny panties beneath. “Step out.”
I obeyed, lifting each foot in turn as he guided me. Standing there in just the oversized underwear and my DIY aluminum diaper, I felt utterly vulnerable and childish.
“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice firm, but not unkind, “you will return these clothes to the nice couple on sixteen. You will apologize to them for breaking into their home and stealing their belongings. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, a tear spilling down my cheek. The thought of facing the elderly couple whose apartment I’d invaded was mortifying, but I nodded anyway.
Jax examined the makeshift interference device around my pussy and bottom. Instead of anger, his expression showed a flicker of appreciation.
“This,” Jax said, tapping the foil between my legs, “demonstrates quite a lot of intelligence, Little Lulu. Most girls wouldn’t have thought to use aluminum foil as a Faraday cage.” His lips curved into an appreciative smile. “You must have overheard my conversation with Esme about the perineal sensor we placed between your legs.”
I nodded, my cheeks burning with humiliation. “I… I heard you talking about it.”
Jax held up his wrist, showing me his sleek black watch. The digital display showed a pulsing question mark instead of numbers. “See this? Your clever little diaper has completely blocked the signal. My watch can’t read how aroused you are, or locate you.”
My stomach dropped at the confirmation that they’d been monitoring me so intimately. Even my most private bodily responses weren’t my own.
“But,” Jax continued, his voice suddenly low and terribly decisive, “I’m going to make a prediction. When I remove this aluminum shield, my watch is going to show a number. And that number will tell me exactly how aroused you are at the thought of being whipped by your daddy and then used by Daddy Rudy and Daddy Mateo.”
I shook my head frantically. “No, I’m not—I don’t want?—”
“I think,” Jax interrupted, his eyes locked with mine, “my watch will show a 9. That means you’re getting very close to coming just thinking about it.”
My face twisted into what I knew must be a helpless pout of mingled shame and need. “That’s not true,” I protested weakly.
Without further discussion, Jax reached between my legs and peeled away the foil diaper I’d crafted so carefully. The crinkle of the aluminum being removed seemed deafening in the quiet room. A soft beep came from his wrist. He looked down at his watch, then held it up for me to see.
The number 9 glowed on the display.
“Look at that,” he murmured, satisfaction evident in his voice. “Daddy knows his little girl so well.”
I stared at the glowing number, mortified that my body had betrayed me so completely. The watch confirmed what I’d been desperately trying to deny—that some part of me craved exactly what Jax had promised to give me.
“No,” I whispered, even as my thighs pressed together, seeking pressure, seeking friction. “That’s not… it can’t be right.”
Jax’s fingers hooked into the waistband of the borrowed granny panties, slowly peeling them down my thighs. The fabric was visibly damp at the gusset, providing undeniable evidence of my arousal.
“Your body doesn’t lie, Little Lulu,” Jax said softly. “No matter what your mind tries to tell you.”
The panties joined the sweatpants on the floor, leaving me completely naked again. Suddenly Jax thrust his hand between my thighs, his fingers cupping my bare pussy possessively. I cried out, my back arching at the unexpected touch.
“Look at my watch, Little Lulu,” he commanded, turning his wrist so I could see the display. The number had changed.
“It’s 10 now,” he murmured, his fingers beginning to work against my sensitive flesh. “Do you know what that means?”
