Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

D aniel

I had just gotten back from Paris when the alert from the Institute popped up on my phone.

Bad girl Amy will receive an adjustment tonight. Tap to watch!

I tapped, of course. I hadn’t had any success in getting Amy out of my mind in the two weeks I’d been traveling from what felt like one end of the globe to the other. If globes had ends, which they didn’t. I shook my head at the silly thought, taking it as proof that I desperately needed a break.

What popped up on my phone screen, a scene that I instantly transferred to the big screen in my den, seemed the perfect antidote to my weariness, even if it proved to have an emotional cost. Gorgeous, busty, naked Amy Pizzarelli confronted by one of the facility daddies, who held what looked like a pink straitjacket.

A little thought-bubble sort of text popped up, attached to the straitjacket.

The ‘adjuster’ is a proven piece of technology developed by Institute assessors for bad girls who’ve reached an impasse in their rehabilitation.

Impasse. What did that mean?

Amy clearly wanted the answer to the same question, or one very close to it.

“What?” she asked, her eyes going from Miss Frieda’s face to the daddy’s. “Why? What did I… did I do something wrong?”

“Well,” Miss Frieda said. “You definitely did something wrong, Amy, when you climaxed without permission with your daddies just now.”

Amy’s face fell. Just as my curiosity—and envy—about the incident and its outcome became overwhelming, the camera angle changed to show a cock-hardening view of Amy’s backside, covered in curled red welts.

I had started stroking myself idly the moment I saw Amy’s enticing nudity, her pussy kept thrillingly bare by the Institute’s flawless regime in such things. Now, with an involuntary grunt in the back of my throat, I found I had to release my hardness from my fly.

“Yes, Miss Frieda,” Amy whispered.

“Your daddies took care of that with the towel, though, didn’t they?” the facility daddy asked.

At that point I noticed the wetness of Amy’s hair, and the stray droplets of water on her shoulders. The whole arousing scene she must have just undergone seemed to unfold in front of my eyes, making my cock as hard as an iron bar in my hand: two or three daddies taking her to the showers and doing degrading, stimulating things to her… Amy, deprived, unable to help herself… the daddies whipping her mercilessly with a rat-tail…

My jealousy grew along with my penis, but that of course only represented what I had let myself in for.

“Yes, Daddy,” Amy whispered. The view on my screen remained on her adorable, thoroughly whipped bottom. I swallowed hard as I watched her cheeks squirm a little, as if in memory of the agony she had felt in the showers.

“On the other hand,” Miss Frieda continued smoothly, “your assessors have become certain over the last few days that you’ve reached what they call an impasse.”

The camera angle changed to show a close-up of Amy’s face, her expression confused.

“Impasse?” she asked. My question, too.

Miss Frieda nodded. “Yes. You’re going to have a night in the adjuster, to see if we can help you through it.”

Amy

“But…” I said, my voice trailing off as I saw the stern look in Daddy James’ eyes. I realized I didn’t have any more words to put after the but , too; I had already asked why, and Miss Frieda clearly had no intention of telling me.

Daddy James stepped forward, the pink straitjacket held out before him. My heart raced as I took in the details of the garment—the stiff fabric, the multitude of straps and buckles, the strange piece of fabric hanging down, with a strap at the end, clearly meant to go between a prisoner’s legs. I wanted to protest, to ask more questions, but the words died in my throat as Daddy James approached.

“Arms out, Amy,” he commanded, his voice pitiless.

Trembling, I obeyed, extending my arms in front of me. Daddy James slipped the sleeves over my arms, the fabric cool and unyielding against my skin. I couldn’t help but squirm as he pulled the jacket tight around my torso, the stiff material constricting my movements.

“Hold still,” Daddy James growled, his large hands working swiftly to fasten the various buckles along my back.

I tried to comply, but my body seemed to have a mind of its own. Every time Daddy James tightened a strap, I found myself wriggling, testing the limits of my new confinement. The jacket pressed my breasts together, creating a deep cleavage that felt both arousing and uncomfortable.

As Daddy James worked his way down my back, I became acutely aware of the triangular extra part I had noticed earlier. It hung between my legs, and was made of the same pink fabric as the rest of the jacket. I whimpered as I considered how it would feel over my pussy, pulled taut by the strap in back.

My bottom was now very sore from the horrible rat-tailed towel, but I hadn’t been fucked in days. Looking down at the heavy cloth that would cover my smooth, needy cleft tonight, an ache settled into my womb. I hadn’t really had much trouble obeying the cardinal rule of the facility against touching myself—most of the time my pussy was just too sore even to contemplate putting my fingers there. The sight of the adjuster’s ultimate confinement, though, made me clench hard, paradoxically at the knowledge that my hand couldn’t help me at all tonight.

I struggled anew as Daddy James reached for the triangular piece hanging between my legs. My thighs clenched together instinctively, trying to protect my most intimate area from this new intrusion. But Daddy James barely seemed to notice my resistance. His strong hands gripped my hips, holding me still as he forced the thick fabric between my thighs.

“Spread your legs, Amy,” he commanded.

Whimpering softly, I obeyed, widening my stance. The cool material of the adjuster pressed against my smooth, bare pussy, the pressure both uncomfortable and oddly arousing. I felt my cheeks flush with shame as Daddy James reached between my legs, adjusting the heavy fabric so it covered me completely.

“There,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “Now, let’s get this secured.”

His hands moved to the back of the jacket, and I felt a sharp tug as he pulled the strap tight. The triangular piece pressed more firmly against my sex, the edges digging slightly into the creases where my thighs met my body. I gasped at the sensation, my hips bucking involuntarily.

“Hold still,” Daddy James repeated, delivering a sharp slap to my already sore bottom.

I yelped, tears springing to my eyes as the pain from the earlier whipping flared anew. The sting of the slap, combined with the constant pressure of the adjuster against my most sensitive areas, sent a confusing mix of sensations through my body.

Daddy James finished securing the strap, giving it one final tug that made me gasp. The fabric between my legs was now pulled taut, pressing firmly against my pussy and bottom. I squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position, but quickly realized there was no escape from the constant pressure.

“There,” Daddy James said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “How does that feel, Amy?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pitiful whimper. The jacket constricted my chest, making it difficult to take a deep breath. My arms were pinned to my sides, rendering me completely helpless. And the insistent pressure between my legs… I couldn’t decide if it was more uncomfortable or arousing.

“I’ll take that as a sign it’s working perfectly,” Daddy James chuckled darkly. He turned to Miss Frieda, who had been watching the proceedings with a cool, clinical eye. “Satisfied?”

Miss Frieda nodded. “Let’s put her to bed.”

Daddy James and Miss Frieda led me the two steps to my narrow bed. The metal frame creaked ominously as I sat down on the thin mattress, the pink straitjacket rustling with every movement. My arms, pinned tightly around my waist, felt like dead weights. The constant pressure between my legs made me acutely aware of my most intimate areas with every slight shift of my body.

“Lie down,” Miss Frieda instructed, her voice cool and detached.

I awkwardly maneuvered myself onto my back, the process made difficult by my restricted movement. The mattress felt hard and unyielding beneath me, offering little comfort to my sore bottom. As I settled into position, the canvas between my legs seemed to press even more insistently against my sensitive flesh.

Daddy James pulled the thin blanket up to my chest, tucking it around me with surprising gentleness. The soft material against my skin contrasted sharply with the stiff, unyielding fabric of the adjuster. I felt utterly helpless, unable to move my arms or even change my position without great effort.

“Good night, Amy,” Miss Frieda said as she moved toward the door. “Sweet dreams.”

The heavy metal door clanged shut behind them, the sound echoing in the small cell. I was left alone in the dim light, my body encased in the unyielding pink fabric of the horrid adjuster. Every slight movement sent a jolt of awareness through me, reminding me of my helpless state. The constant pressure between my legs was maddening, simultaneously arousing and frustrating. I squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position, but it was useless. The straitjacket held me firmly in its grasp, refusing to yield even an inch.

As the minutes ticked by, I found my thoughts drifting, as they so often did, to Daddy Daniel. I wondered where he was, what he was doing. Did he ever think of me? Did he watch the footage from my punishments and sessions with the other daddies? The idea sent a shiver of excitement through me, despite my discomfort.

I imagined Daddy Daniel’s strong arms around me, holding me tight. In my mind’s eye, I could almost see his gorgeous blue eyes, filled with a mixture of sternness and affection. I longed for his touch, for the feeling of his large hands on my body. Even when he punished me, there was always an underlying current of care in his actions.

As exhaustion began to creep in, I found myself relaxing slightly into the embrace of the adjuster. The tight fabric almost felt like a hug—firm and unyielding, yes, but also oddly comforting. I closed my eyes, letting out a soft sigh.

At that moment, I felt a sudden, unexpected sensation between my legs. I cried out as a low hum filled the air, and I understood a little more about the tormenting device into which Daddy James had strapped me. A buzz sprang to life, a vibrating nodule pressing insistently against my most sensitive areas. I gasped, my eyes flying open as the vibrations sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body.

The stimulation was intense, focused directly on my clit and the entrance to my pussy. I squirmed helplessly, my hips bucking against the unyielding fabric. The constant pressure of the adjuster, combined with the relentless vibrations, quickly brought me to the edge of orgasm.

But just as I felt myself about to tumble over that precipice, the vibrations lessened slightly, keeping me balanced on the knife edge of pleasure. I whimpered, tugging futilely at the straitjacket’s restraints. My fingers flexed uselessly at my sides, desperate to reach between my legs and finish what the vibrator had started.

“Please,” I whispered into the darkness of my cell, though I knew no one could hear me. “Please, I need to come.”

The vibrator continued its merciless assault on my senses, bringing me to the brink of orgasm over and over again, only to cruelly deny me release each time. Sweat beaded on my forehead, trickling down my temples as I writhed on the narrow bed. The thin blanket had long since been kicked aside, leaving me exposed to the cool air of my cell.

“Please…” I whispered again, thinking of Daddy Daniel, willing that by some magic he might see, and he might have control of the adjuster, and he might give me a reward, because… because…

Because I want to be his good girl.