Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

A my

It went on for what seemed like a whole hour. Every time I got close to orgasm, my lower body spasming, my clenching bottom cheeks bringing the lingering reminder of my whipping in the shower and only heightening my unsatisfied need, the release so close I could taste it… the buzzing would hold me just there for long minutes as I cried out with helpless almost-pleasure. Then it would suddenly stop, and I would sob with frustration as my body, helplessly bound in the awful adjuster, began to grow quiet, until the tormenting process began again.

I lost count of the number of times they edged me… the assessors, I felt certain, whoever they were, watching in some control booth deep underground, turning a knob with scientific precision in order to…

To adjust me.

I knew what it meant—of course I knew, deep down, and the knowledge only got stronger as the terrible ordeal of forced pleasure and sudden denial continued. Daddy Daniel: my fixation on him had created this ‘impasse.’ I had found an entirely new way to be bad, hadn’t I?

After an eternity of the edging, whoever’s fingers were twisting the control decided to do something different: a low-level vibration, gently moving up and down in intensity almost like a wave on a protected beach. It felt soothing, after a while, and above all it let my exhaustion finally take hold, so that I drifted off to sleep at last.

I awoke sometime later, disoriented and groggy. The low vibration between my legs had intensified, pulling me from my fitful sleep. My body felt heavy and sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion and the unyielding embrace of the adjuster.

As consciousness slowly returned, I became newly aware of the deep ache in my core. The constant stimulation, even at its lowest setting, had kept my arousal simmering throughout the night. Now, as the vibrations increased in intensity once again, that simmering need quickly came to an even fiercer boil than the adjuster had brought out in me before I slept.

I whimpered softly, squirming against the mattress. The movement caused the fabric between my legs to shift, pressing the vibrating nodule more firmly against my sensitive flesh. A gasp escaped my lips as pleasure shot through me, my hips bucking involuntarily.

The sudden surge of sensation brought with it a vivid dream-memory: Daddy Daniel’s strong hands on my body, his voice low and commanding in my ear. In my mind’s eye, I could see him so clearly—his ice-blue eyes dark with desire, his muscular form looming over me.

“Please, Daddy,” I whispered into the darkness of my cell, my voice hoarse and desperate. “Please let me come.”

As the vibrations intensified, pulsing against my aching clit, more fragments of the vivid dream came flooding back. I gasped as the memories washed over me, so real I could almost feel Daddy Daniel’s touch…

We stood in a vast, ethereal space that seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions. Swirling nebulae and glittering stars surrounded us, bathing everything in soft, otherworldly light. Beneath our feet was a shimmering surface like polished obsidian, reflecting the cosmic beauty above.

Daddy Daniel’s powerful form was silhouetted against this celestial backdrop, his blue eyes blazing with an inner fire that made my knees weak. He held a whip in one hand, the braided leather seeming to glow with an inner light of its own.

“Turn around, Amy,” he commanded, his voice resonating through my very being. “Present that naughty bottom for punishment.”

I obeyed without hesitation, bending at the waist and arching my back to offer my bare bottom to him. The cool air of this cosmic realm caressed my exposed skin, making me shiver in anticipation.

The first crack of the whip sent shockwaves through my body. I cried out, the sound echoing strangely in the vast space. But the pain transformed almost instantly into pleasure, radiating outward from the point of impact. Each subsequent lash built upon the last, until my entire being seemed radiant with the energy my daddy had decided to give me.

The whip cracked against my upturned bottom again and again, each lash sending waves of exquisite sensation coursing through me. The pain blurred seamlessly into pleasure, until I could no longer distinguish between the two. My cries echoed in the vast cosmic expanse surrounding us, mingling with the distant song of the stars.

“Such a good girl,” Daddy Daniel purred, his voice seeming to reverberate through my very being. “Taking your punishment so beautifully.”

I felt his large hand caress my heated flesh, soothing the marks left by his whip. The gentle touch was almost more than I could bear after the intensity of the lashing. I whimpered, pressing back against his palm, silently begging for more.

“Please, Daddy,” I whispered, my voice trembling with need. “I need you inside me.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Do you now?” he murmured, his fingers trailing teasingly along the curve of my bottom. “And what makes you think you deserve my cock, little one?”

Before I could respond, I felt the blunt head of his massive shaft pressing against my entrance. I gasped, my body tensing in anticipation. Daddy Daniel gripped my hips firmly, holding me in place as he began to push inside.

In the cosmic temple of my dream, my daddy fucked me brutally, pounding my whipped bottom with his muscular lap, driving his enormous cock so deep inside me I thought I could feel it in my throat. I came, and came, and came until it felt as if I had become a being made entirely of pleasure and joy and love.

But Daddy Daniel wasn’t here. There was only the relentless buzz of the adjuster, bringing me to the edge of orgasm over and over again, never quite allowing me to tumble over that precipice. Tears of frustration welled in my eyes as I writhed helplessly on the narrow bed. My muscles strained against the unyielding fabric of the straitjacket, desperate for even a moment of freedom.

The vibrations intensified further, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I cried out, my back arching off the mattress as I teetered on the brink of release. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, when I was certain I would finally be granted the sweet relief of orgasm, the stimulation abruptly ceased.

I sobbed in frustration, my hips grinding fruitlessly against the now-still fabric between my legs. The sudden absence of sensation left me feeling hollow and desperate. My pussy clenched around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Please,” I whimpered again, though I knew my pleas fell on deaf ears. “Please, I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.”

At that moment, the heavy metal door clanged open, flooding the dim space with harsh fluorescent light from the hallway. I blinked rapidly, my eyes struggling to adjust after hours in near-darkness.

Daddy James’ imposing figure filled the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking most of the light. As he stepped into the cell, I could make out the details of his appearance—the crisp white shirt stretched taut across his muscular chest, the perfectly pressed slacks, the polished leather shoes that gleamed even in the low light. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, not a strand out of place despite the early hour.

“Good morning, Amy,” he said, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “I trust you had an… interesting night?”

I whimpered in response, unable to form coherent words. My body was a mass of conflicting sensations—the dull ache in my muscles from being restrained for so long, the lingering arousal that thrummed through my core, the sharp pangs of hunger and thirst that I had been too distracted to notice until now.

Daddy James approached the bed, his blue eyes sweeping over my bound form. I was acutely aware of how I must look—hair tangled and matted with sweat, face flushed and tearstained, body trembling with exhaustion and need. The thin blanket had long since fallen to the floor.

Daddy James loomed over me, still scanning my disheveled form. With practiced movements, he began unbuckling the straps of the adjuster. As each restraint fell away, I felt a mixture of relief and helplessness wash over me. The stiff pink fabric peeled away from my sweat-dampened skin, leaving me naked and exposed.

“Stand up,” Daddy James commanded, his voice arrogant, almost harsh.

I struggled to obey, my limbs weak and unsteady after hours of confinement. As I swung my legs over the side of the narrow bed, a wave of dizziness washed over me. My muscles screamed in protest as I attempted to push myself upright.

Daddy James’ strong hand gripped my upper arm, steadying me as I swayed on my feet. The warmth of his palm against my cool skin sent an involuntary shiver through my body. I could smell his cologne—a rich, masculine scent that made my head spin.

“Come along,” he said, guiding me toward the door.

The cool air of the hallway raised goosebumps on my naked flesh as we emerged from my cell. The harsh fluorescent lights seemed to bore into my skull, intensifying the pounding headache that had taken root behind my eyes. My legs trembled with each step, and I found myself leaning heavily on Daddy James for support.

We made our way through the maze-like corridors of the facility, our footsteps on the concrete swallowed up in the distant institutional noises—the HVAC fans and the clangs of unseen doors opening and closing.

Daddy James led me through the labyrinth, his firm grip on my arm both steadying and possessive. Looking down, I noticed with a blush that the cool air hardened my nipples to stiff peaks. I stumbled along beside him, my legs weak and unsteady after my night in the horrid adjuster.

We passed countless unmarked doors, their heavy metal surfaces gleaming dully under the harsh fluorescent lights. The hallways seemed to stretch endlessly, twisting and turning like some vast concrete maze. I lost all sense of direction as we walked, the identical corridors blurring together in my exhausted mind.

Occasionally, we would pass other daddies or staff members. Their eyes raked over my nude form with clinical detachment or predatory hunger. I kept my gaze lowered, cheeks burning with shame at my exposure.

After what felt like an eternity, we finally reached our destination. Daddy James rapped his knuckles against a polished wooden door. The rich mahogany seemed so different from the utilitarian metal that dominated the rest of the facility that it made me frown in confusion.

“Come in,” called a familiar voice from within.

Daddy James opened the door, ushering me into what I realized immediately must be Miss Frieda’s office. The room was a study in understated elegance—thick carpets in muted tones, leather-bound books lining dark wood shelves, and a massive oak desk that dominated the space.

The air was redolent with the scent of leather and expensive perfume. Miss Frieda sat behind the imposing desk, her posture impeccable as always. Instead of her babydoll nightgown she wore a crisp white blouse, the top two buttons undone to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a severe bun, emphasizing her sharp cheekbones and cold green eyes.

“Good morning, Amy,” Miss Frieda said, her voice cool and professional. “Please, have a seat.”

I glanced around, noticing for the first time that there were no chairs in front of her desk. My confusion must have shown on my face, because Miss Frieda’s lips curved into a small, amused smile.

“On your knees, of course,” she clarified, gesturing to the deep carpet before her desk.

Blushing furiously, I sank to my knees, acutely aware of my nakedness in the face of Miss Frieda’s immaculate appearance. The soft pile of the carpet was a welcome relief after the cold, hard floors of the hallways.

Miss Frieda’s eyes raked over my form, taking in every detail of my disheveled state. I squirmed under her scrutiny, fighting the urge to cover myself with my hands.

“Thank you, Daddy James,” she said, nodding to the imposing man still standing behind me. “That will be all for now.”

I heard the soft click of the door closing behind Daddy James, leaving me alone with Miss Frieda. The silence in the office seemed to press in on me from all sides, broken only by the steady ticking of an ornate grandfather clock in the corner. The rich scent of leather and wood polish filled my nostrils, jarringly different from the sterile, antiseptic smell that permeated most of the facility.

Miss Frieda leaned back in her high-backed leather chair, her fingers steepled beneath her chin as she regarded me with those cool, assessing green eyes. I felt utterly exposed under her gaze, my nakedness another reminder of my utter lack of control in my gorgeous trainer’s degrading facility. The soft carpet beneath my knees, which had felt so comforting at first, now offered little comfort as I waited, heart pounding, for her to speak.

“Amy,” Miss Frieda finally began, her voice smooth and measured. “Your rehabilitation has taken a rather… interesting turn.”