Chapter 13
J ax
As I bid Oscar and Viktor good night, my mind had already begun to work on the problem of how to manage Louisa’s feelings as to what she had, very deliberately on my part, overheard.
She would almost certainly try to escape: I, with Rudy and Mateo’s help, needed first and foremost to prepare to act swiftly and decisively when she did.
Louisa Bell scored off the charts for intelligence, and when brilliant girls like Louisa went wildcat, as the Selecta assessors generally called it, highly unpredictable things could happen.
I didn’t see any particular need to worry—except of course that the business I had to pretend to be in, the one that Louisa had done enough stupid shit to have gotten herself deeply embedded into, had a lot of unavoidable, inherent danger baked in.
Selecta had given me the necessary resources, especially in the persons of my bodyguards, to do what I had to do to roll up Oscar and Viktor’s networks if I could implement the plan.
I just needed to manage those resources adroitly.
Above all, I needed to give Louisa what she so badly needed, to allow her to make amends and put this part of her life behind her.
The resistance that my watch told me had already begun to manifest itself in her biometrics had to be allowed to come out in one way or another.
Then my response had to provide the guidance that would help her push through to the critical stage of her reformation where she would get the chance to do something about her misdeeds.
Would she ever: as the keystone of the plan to take out an enormous swath of the narcotics business in the city, Little Lulu would have an accomplishment not just to make her feel some solace about the past year of her life, but to experience true pride in having made the world a better place.
And all of it would come about through understanding her need to submit as a bad girl to a dominant man—one who understood her bad girl nature and could teach her to understand it too.
I stood in the doorway of my den, looking at the charming sight of Louisa Bell restrained over the training stool with the base of the pink plug so sweetly visible, just above the even sweeter sight of her bare pink pussy.
I knew I could keep her safe, even in the extremely unlikely event that her escape attempt was so clever she succeeded in getting away from the apartment for some period of time.
Nevertheless, as she craned her head and I watched her catch sight of me…
as I saw her cheeks go bright pink and her eyes go wide as she processed how my hands had begun to unbuckle my belt…
as a subtle beep from my watch told me that her arousal had just spiked…
I wanted to release her from the stool and turn her over to Selecta’s relocation agency immediately, to make sure nothing harmed her, ever.
And, at the same time, I wanted to keep her here, in my crime-boss penthouse, forever.
And I wanted to get her off the stool, drive right to the airport, and disappear into the night with my bad girl, never to be seen again by anyone like Charlie, Walker, Oscar, Viktor, or any of their greedy, evil, stupid kind.
Yes , I told myself with an inward sigh. You are definitely falling in love with this one.
“Please…” Louisa said. “Daddy… no, please… don’t whip me?”
I finished taking my belt out of its loops, doubled it, and started to wrap it around my fist. At least my incipient love for my Little Lulu and her need for her daddy’s belt across her adorable backside stood in no conflict at all.
“Remember the rule I taught you, baby girl,” I told her, letting an edge of menace creep into my voice. “Bad girls only get fucked with a sore bottom.”
Louisa
“But…” I begged, as Jax began to walk slowly toward me, tapping the doubled belt against the palm of his left hand. “But, Daddy… you already… you already spanked me tonight!”
“That was just a light spanking for our guests,” Jax replied, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my insides quiver.
“This is your real punishment. If you need a reason, I’m going to whip you for all those naughty thoughts I could see running through your head during dinner.
Really, though—just like I told you—you’re about to be whipped simply because you’ve been a bad girl. ”
I whimpered, straining futilely against the restraints that held me bent over the humiliating pink stool. My bottom felt so shamefully revealed, with the plug stretching me open, marking me as Jax’s property in a more intimate way than any tag on my collar ever could, that it made me dizzy.
“I didn’t… but…” I started to protest, but the words died in my throat as Jax ran his hand over my upturned bottom, his touch deceptively gentle.
“Don’t lie to your daddy,” he warned, tapping the belt against my sensitive flesh. “I saw how wet you got when Oscar and Viktor were looking at you. When they tasted your pretty little pussy. You liked it, didn’t you? Being shown off like Daddy’s special toy?”
My face burned with shame because he was right. Despite my fear and humiliation, my body had responded traitorously to being displayed and used for the men’s pleasure. Even now, with the belt poised to strike, I could feel wetness gathering between my thighs.
“Answer me, Little Lulu,” Jax demanded, his voice hardening.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. “I… I liked it.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, the approval in his voice sending an unwanted thrill through me. “Honesty is important. But bad girls who enjoy being shown off still need to be punished. Not because they did something wrong, but because they feel like they did.”
Without further warning, the belt cracked across my bottom, the leather biting into my flesh with shocking intensity. I screamed, jerking against the restraints. The movement caused the plug to shift inside me, sending confusing signals of pain and pleasure racing through my body.
“Count,” Jax instructed, bringing the belt down again. “And thank Daddy for each stroke.”
“Two!” I gasped. “Thank you, Daddy!”
The belt fell again and again, painting fire across my bottom and upper thighs.
With each stroke, the plug seemed to press deeper inside me, bringing my complete submission back to my roiling mind.
By the tenth stroke, I had started to sob continuously, my face wet with tears and my voice breaking as I thanked him.
“Good girl,” Jax murmured, setting the belt aside and running his hand over my burning flesh. “Such a good bad girl for your Daddy.”
His touch was suddenly gentle, soothing the welts he’d just created. I heard the sound of his zipper, then felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against my soaking entrance. Despite the pain—no, much worse, because of it , I realized—I had gotten suddenly, very embarrassingly wet.
“Please,” I whimpered, though I wasn’t sure if I was begging him to stop or to continue.
“Shh, bad girl,” he said quietly.
I felt the head of his huge cock press into the opening of my aching sheath. My hips jerked, even restrained as I was, and my vagina clenched in desperation as I tried to get more of my daddy’s hardness inside me.
Then, abruptly, I seemed to float outside myself, and I felt like I could see myself as a different person. As if hovering near the ceiling, I looked down in horror at the girl restrained over the stool.
Who had I become? Twenty-four hours ago, I had been a college dropout selling drugs to make ends meet. Now I was begging a man I called ‘Daddy’ to fuck me after he’d just whipped me with his belt.
And worse—so much worse—I wanted it. I craved his approval, his touch, his punishment. The terrible things he’d done to me had awakened something I hadn’t known existed, something that had been dormant inside me all along.
I moaned as he filled me completely, the sensation of his thick shaft combined with the plug in my bottom creating an overwhelming fullness. Each small movement shifted both intruders, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my nervous system.
“What do you say when Daddy gives you his cock?” he prompted, his hands gripping my hips firmly.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered, my voice breaking with need and shame.
He began to thrust then, his movements measured and deliberate. Each time he pulled back, I felt myself clench around him, trying desperately to keep him inside. Each time he pushed forward, I whimpered at the delicious pressure against my most sensitive places.
“Such a good little fuck toy,” he grunted, his pace increasing. “Taking Daddy’s cock so well after your whipping.”
The words, degrading as they were, sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through me. I was his fuck toy, his little girl, his property. The thought was terrifying and yet somehow freeing in its terrible simplicity.
As Jax’s cock continued to fill me, my mind drifted again to all the stupid decisions that had led me to this moment.
Dropping out of college. Selling drugs for Charlie.
Stealing from my roommate. Lying to my parents.
Each thrust of Jax’s massive hardness seemed to drive these realizations deeper into my consciousness.
I’d been spiraling for months, making increasingly destructive choices.
And now, bent over this humiliating pink stool with a plug in my bottom and the man who had appointed himself my daddy fucking me from behind, I suddenly understood that this so-called ‘training’ had started to rewire something fundamental inside me.
The way I thought about myself, about authority, about consequences, was changing with every degrading act he subjected me to.
“That’s it,” Jax murmured, his hand snaking around to find my clit. “Take Daddy’s cock like a good girl.”
A shameful warmth spread through my chest at his praise.
I realized with a jolt of horror that I wasn’t just responding physically to him—I was developing feelings for my captor.
The way he alternated between cruelty and tenderness, between punishment and praise, had created a bond I hadn’t anticipated.
Even as I hated what he was doing to me, part of me craved his approval, his touch, his dominance.
“Oh, god,” I gasped, the revelation hitting me harder than his belt had. I was falling for Jax.
Panic flooded my system, my heart racing with fear even as my body betrayed me.
My pussy clenched around his thick shaft, my hips pushing back to meet his thrusts despite my mental turmoil.
I had started to make myself exactly what he wanted—a compliant little girl who associated pain with pleasure, humiliation with arousal.
“Please,” I sobbed, though I had no idea whether I was begging him to stop or to give me more. My body had become divorced from my mind, responding to him with a will of its own.
“Please what, Little Lulu?” Jax demanded, his fingers circling my clit with maddening precision.
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t admit what I wanted. This had to stop. I had to get away before I lost myself completely.
I need to escape , I thought desperately. This place, these men, this entire situation—it was dangerous in ways that went beyond the physical. My very identity was at stake.
But even as I made this resolution, I felt my orgasm building, unstoppable as a tidal wave. Since I was going to escape anyway, why not let myself enjoy this one last time? The perverse logic made perfect sense in my muddled state.
“I’m going to come,” I whimpered, surrendering to the dual sensations of his cock and the plug filling me so completely.
“Not until I say so,” Jax growled, slowing his pace to an agonizing crawl. “Little Lulu isn’t going to come with a cock in her pussy tonight.”