Chapter 4
J ax
The venomous look in Louisa’s eyes at my latest degrading instruction only widened my smile.
“I’m not asking you to change my diaper,” she hissed, her defiance magnificent despite her compromised position. “I’m not playing this sick game.”
I chuckled, admiring the fire in her. This one had spirit—exactly what I’d seen in her from the first moment at Walker’s. Her Selecta Corrections dossier had gotten that part one hundred percent correct.
Subject’s resistance to her submissive sexual needs presents special opportunities, given her role in a criminal organization.
We recommend she receive individual attention, ideally through the Rehabilitation in Criminal Surveillance program.
In RCS, her considerable intelligence and force of will can be leveraged alongside her sexual training to produce results in the field—quickly, if need be.
Breaking her defiance dynamic through forced ageplay is suggested.
Translation: Louisa Bell was a bad girl with potential—so much potential that rather than catching her selling, having her testify against Charlie and Walker, and then sending her to serve a sentence at a Selecta Bad Girl Facility, I had ‘purchased’ her from them.
I would have the distinct pleasure of beginning her reformation personally, while developing her skills not just as a fuck toy, but as an undercover informant.
And the time horizon for the operation I needed Louisa for was very quick indeed.
“It’s not a request, little one,” I said, pitching my voice in the register I knew affected her. “It’s an opportunity to accept your new reality gracefully.”
I reached out and traced the collar around her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath my fingertips. Her breathing quickened, those pretty breasts rising and falling rapidly. Despite her resistance, her body betrayed her at every turn.
“Tell me,” I whispered, leaning close enough that my breath stirred her hair, “do you think your old life is waiting for you somewhere? That boy who sold you without a second thought? The drug deals? The dead-end existence you were spiraling into?”
Her lower lip trembled, and I knew my words had found their mark. I pressed my advantage.
“Or do you think perhaps fate has delivered you exactly where you belong? In the care of someone who sees your true nature? Someone who will cherish what he’s purchased?”
“Fuck you,” she whispered, but there was no conviction behind it.
My hand cracked across her face before she could blink—not hard enough to mark her, just enough to shock.
“That’s two infractions now. The wet diaper, which we can forgive as an accident, and that filthy mouth, which we cannot.
” I stood, towering over her. “Now you have a choice. Ask Daddy nicely to change your diaper, or sit in your own pee until morning while sleeping on the floor at the foot of my bed.”
Her lovely face contorted with the internal battle. I watched, fascinated, as emotions warred across her features—rage, humiliation, desperation, and underneath it all, the first tendrils of submission seeking purchase.
“Please,” she finally whispered, the word barely audible.
“Please what, Little Lulu? Be specific.”
She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “Please change my diaper… Daddy.”
Victory surged through me, sweeter than any arrest of a drug lord I’d ever brought about. I stroked her hair gently, rewarding her surrender.
“Good girl. You’re learning already.”
I unclipped her wrists from the bedpost, but left the cuffs connected. Louisa shuddered as with the controlled force of my hands I guided her to lie back on the bed, positioning a changing pad beneath her that I retrieved from the same drawer where my men had gotten her diaper.
“Legs up,” I instructed.
Louisa
I hesitated, then slowly raised my knees toward my chest. The position displayed my soaked diaper and everything else to him, and I wanted to curl into myself and disappear. But something in his eyes—a promise of consequences if I disobeyed—kept me from closing my legs.
“There’s my good girl,” he murmured, his fingers going to the Velcro tabs at my hips.
The sound of the fabric releasing made me wince. Each rip felt like another piece of my dignity being torn away. I stared at the ceiling, refusing to watch as this man—a stranger who now called himself my daddy—performed this most intimate act.
“Such a wet little girl,” he commented, folding down the front of the diaper to expose me. The cool air against my damp skin made me shiver. “Your body certainly knows who’s in charge—even though your mind is clearly still catching up.”
He wiped me with clinical efficiency, using baby wipes that smelled of powder and innocence. Each stroke of the cool cloth against my pussy and bottom sent unwanted sparks of pleasure through my body. I bit my lip hard, determined not to make a sound.
“Do you know why I’m doing this myself instead of having my men handle it?” Jax asked conversationally, as if he were discussing the weather while cleaning between my legs.
I remained silent, focusing on a small crack in the ceiling paint.
“Answer Daddy when he asks you a question,” he prompted, his voice hardening slightly.
“No,” I whispered. “I don’t know why.”
His fingers paused their work, resting lightly against my inner thigh.
“Because this body belongs to me now. Every inch of it. And I want you to understand that I will personally care for what is mine.” His hand moved higher, brushing against my sex.
“Like this pretty little pussy. It’s Daddy’s responsibility now. ”
I closed my eyes, mortified by the wetness I knew he could feel—wetness that had nothing to do with pee.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I forced my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze.
“Your body is honest, even when you try to lie,” he said, his fingers tracing my folds with deliberate slowness. “At the deepest, most important level, you know what you need.”
“I don’t need this,” I protested weakly.
“No?” He slipped a finger inside me, making me gasp. “Then why are you so wet for Daddy? Why does your little pussy clench around my finger like it’s desperate for more?”
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even think straight with his finger inside me, slowly pumping in and out.
“This is mine now,” he continued, adding a second finger and making me whimper. “To use or not use. To pleasure or deny pleasure. To punish or reward. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I breathed, my hips betraying me by arching up to meet his hand.
“Yes, what?” he prompted, his thumb finding my clit.
“Oh, god…” I sobbed. “Yes, Daddy.”
Jax looked down at my mound with a frown. His thumb brushed against my pubic hair, tugging it slightly.
“First thing tomorrow morning, we’re shaving this,” he announced, as if discussing a mundane household chore. “A little girl’s pussy should be smooth and bare. It will help you understand who you really are.”
The matter-of-fact way he referred to my private parts made me cringe. The shameful heat building between my legs just kept growing, though, as his fingers continued their skilled manipulation.
“Tell me something, Little Lulu,” he said casually, never pausing the rhythmic movement of his hand. “Are you upset that I’m blaming you for wetting your diaper when you clearly had no choice? When I deliberately left you here knowing you’d need to go?”
I froze, unsure how to answer. Was this a trick question? If I said no, would I be admitting I deserved the humiliation? If I said yes, would he punish me for questioning him?
“Of course I’m mad,” I finally replied, my voice small but defiant. “It’s completely unfair. You set me up to fail. No one even told me I was supposed to hold it in.”
A slow smile spread across his face, and I realized with a sinking feeling that I’d given him exactly the response he wanted.
“It’s very important,” he said, pressing his fingers deeper inside me, “that Little Lulu learns that her daddy will decide what happens to her. Especially to her body.” His thumb circled my clit with devastating precision. “And most especially to her little pussy and her little bottom.”
The shame that washed over me was overwhelming—not because of what he was saying, but because of how my body was responding to it.
I was mortified to realize I was more aroused than I’d ever been in my life.
The idea that I had a strict daddy who made rules for me, who controlled my body, who was deliberately unfair because he wanted to degrade me, was sending electric pulses of pleasure straight to my core.
“Please,” I gasped, no longer able to resist the building pressure. My hips moved of their own accord, seeking more contact with his hand.
“Please what?” he asked, slowing his movements to a torturous pace.
“Please, Daddy,” I begged, past caring about dignity now. “Please fuck me.”
His eyes darkened with satisfaction and his lips curved into a smile that made my tummy flip. “No, Little Lulu. Not yet. There’s a very important rule you need to learn.”
He moved his huge hands to the backs of my knees.
I whimpered as he pushed them even further back and even further apart, spreading me and exposing me completely to his eyes.
My bound hands rose instinctively from the covers behind my head and moved to cover myself, but Jax growled, “Don’t you dare cover yourself, bad girl.
Daddy gets to see whatever he wants. What Daddy sees now is a very fuckable pussy, but it’s not going to get fucked tonight, because bad girls only get fucked with a sore bottom and I’m too tired to punish you properly tonight. ”
The rule. The very important rule. I couldn’t suppress a helpless sob of need as I absorbed it.
Bad girls only get fucked with a sore bottom.
“Don’t worry,” he continued, his smile widening. “I’m going to spank you and fuck you first thing in the morning, once I’ve shaved this pussy bare.”
A shiver ran through me that I couldn’t suppress—part fear, part shameful anticipation. The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, as if my consent wasn’t even a consideration—made my heart pound against my ribs.
“Until then,” he said, reaching for a fresh diaper, “this will keep my little girl dry through the night.”
I watched in silent humiliation as he expertly positioned the thick padding beneath me, sprinkled more of that infantilizing powder between my legs, and Velcroed the diaper snugly around my hips. The feel of the thick fabric as he smoothed it into place made my cheeks burn.
“Arms up,” he instructed, moving to a dresser across the room.
I obeyed without thinking, raising my bound wrists above my head.
Jax returned with a pink nightgown made of some soft, silky material.
With surprising gentleness, he first unclipped my wrists, then guided the nightgown over my head and helped my arms through the sleeves.
The garment fell just to my thighs, too short to hide the bulky diaper underneath.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, stepping back to admire his handiwork. His eyes traveled slowly from my face down to my diapered bottom, and the approval in his gaze made something flutter in my stomach.
He reattached my wrists to each other, and then to the bedpost, checking that the restraints were secure, but not painfully tight. Then, without warning, he began to undress.
I looked away quickly, but not before catching a glimpse of his broad chest as he unbuttoned his shirt. The rustle of clothing being removed filled the silence between us. I kept my eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to ignore the sounds of him preparing for bed.
The mattress dipped as he slid under the covers beside me.
I tensed, expecting… I wasn’t sure what.
Some kind of sexual assault, despite his promise to wait until morning.
Instead, his strong arms encircled me from behind, pulling me against his chest in a position that reminded me of how a father might hold a child.
“Relax,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “It’s time for sleep now.”
I lay rigid in his embrace, acutely aware of his naked body pressed against my back. His chest was solid muscle, radiating heat that seeped through my thin nightgown. One of his arms cradled my head while the other wrapped possessively around my waist, his hand resting on the front of my diaper.
The disparity in our sizes had never been more apparent.
Compared to his powerful frame, I felt tiny, fragile…
completely dominated. My wrists secured above my head, my body encased in symbols of infantilization, held firmly in place by this man who now claimed to own me—I had never felt so utterly controlled in my life.
I could never go to sleep like this, could I? I told myself that of course I couldn’t; the thought seemed ridiculous. Then, suddenly, I woke up and saw the light shining through the enormous windows of my new daddy’s bedroom.