Yozef

Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

Daddy cups my face. “The grass is soft, Little pet. Do you think you have the strength to crawl on it?”

I flinch and glance around. I want so badly to stay outside, but do I want it enough to endure whatever is expected of me? Even crawling on my hands and knees like an animal?

Daddy rubs my back. “Would you rather go back inside, Zoey?” he asks gently, even though he knows that’s not what I want.

“No, Daddy.” I glance at the table. “Are you going to put another diaper on me?”

He smiles. “You don’t need one while we’re out here, Little pet. I’ll let you have some time without one. If you’re worried about peeing yourself, no one will know. If you have an accident in the grass, it won’t matter.”

I gasp. I’ve never had an accident since I was potty-trained. He’s goading me.

Daddy stands and sweeps me off my feet. Cradling me, he carries me toward the center of the grassy area before squatting down and setting me on my bottom.

The next thing he does nearly causes me to jump to my feet and run off the side of the building. But it happens so fast, and I’m too shocked to react quickly enough. He picks up a chain and attaches it to my collar.

Smiling triumphantly, he runs a hand over the top of my head and down my braid.

“This will keep you safe, Little pet. The other end of the leash is attached to a sturdy eye hook. The chain is long enough to give you free rein of the grass, including the sandbox. You won’t be able to reach the edge of the roof or the pool. ”

I remain on my bottom, staring at him. I’m naked, and now I’m chained like a dog in the yard. But I have another problem. My heart is racing because part of me feels incredibly loved and safe. My Daddy is looking at me as though I’m the most cherished possession he’s ever had. He adores me.

The man is misguided. He doesn’t understand humans. He thought he was getting a pet. He obviously treats his pets well.

But I’m not a pet…

I’m a human being. A person.

“Daddy…” I barely keep the whine out of my voice. I don’t want to anger him. I don’t even know what to say.

“Shhh….” He pets my head, then strokes my cheek and lets his fingers trail down until he grazes over my nipple.

I moan and arch my chest toward him.

“That’s my good girl. My good Little pet.

” His voice soothes me. My body calms as he touches me.

He gently cups my breast and weighs it, with his gaze locked on mine.

His thumb returns to my nipple, stroking it so lightly it’s almost imperceptible.

“Shhh…” he repeats softly as if I’m making any sounds.

All the noise is in my head. Screaming. There’s a war inside me. A battle of wills. One part tells me this is madness. Make it stop. The other part is countering that my Daddy adores me and has my best interests at heart.

“Deep breaths, Little pet.”

I find myself inhaling with him and then blowing out the breath.

All the while, I’m sitting tall, spine straight, thrusting my chest toward him, enjoying the way he fondles my breast. It feels so good.

He makes me feel things I never expected in my life.

Things I didn’t even know were possible.

And I don’t want it to end. Not even if it means obeying him and being the good Little pet he wants me to be.

All the while, I’m focused on the new addition. A heavy chain hangs between my breasts, making me more aware of my collar.

Wetness gathers between my legs, and I slowly stretch my feet out in front of me and squeeze my thighs together.

“Does the grass feel good, Little pet?”

I swallow. “Yes, Daddy.” Grass is not at all what I expected. It’s softer than I thought from seeing pictures. It bends easily. The little points are not sharp.

“I bet you’ll enjoy the sand. I’ll let you explore for a while, then I’ll take you into the pool. How does that sound?”

I whimper because he switches to fondling my other breast. I’m definitely a slave to my body and his powerful scent.

Daddy moves his hand to lift my chin. He bends forward and lightly kisses me on the lips. It’s just a peck, but it’s powerful. I’m so stunned I can’t move. I want more. I want more kisses.

He shifts both palms to my breasts, leans down farther, and kisses first one and then the other nipple before releasing me and standing. “You’re safe, Little pet. Explore.”

When he turns and walks toward the table, I watch him. I’m trembling with need. He gave me an orgasm a few minutes ago, but I want another one. I want more. I want him inside me. I want to see his cock. Feel it.

He’s not going to give me that. He hasn’t even started stretching my pussy. I should not be having thoughts of intercourse because it will hurt. But I don’t care. I don’t know what a drug craving feels like, but I bet it’s this.

Daddy sits in his chair and leans back, smiling at me.

The sun is warm on my bare skin, chasing away the chills he caused. I’m suddenly far more naked now that I’m totally exposed. Daddy isn’t a barrier between me and Galar.

I finally find the will to glance toward the door, only to find Galar in the exact spot he took up residence in earlier, protecting me from anyone who might dare come through that exit.

His attention is on both the door and my surroundings.

His gaze moves around at all times, seemingly ignoring me and focusing instead on the periphery of the building and the sky.

I look up, wondering whether some sort of aircraft could swoop down and take me.

My attention shifts to the chain hanging in front of me. It’s heavy and reminds me of my captivity. I’m not free here. I’m a prisoner. I’m owned.

It takes a while for me to decide to move. When I do, I slowly turn onto all fours and crawl as far as I can across the grass. I’m not just exploring the lawn itself. I’m testing my boundaries, wanting to know exactly how far the chain reaches.

When it pulls tight, I’m still several yards from the edge of the building.

There’s a wall all around this oasis. It’s high enough that I wouldn’t be able to see over it even if I were standing on my tiptoes.

There is absolutely no reason for the leash.

I could never scale that barrier and fall to my death.

I’d need at least a chair, probably the table.

And the pool. It’s true, I have no idea how to swim, but I’m not a toddler. I’m not stupid enough to get so close that I might fall in and drown.

Turning that direction, I test the length of my leash again, crawling toward the pool. I’m a few yards short of the edge. It feels so strange to be unencumbered by a diaper after all this time. I like the freedom, but I hate my naked body being on display.

I can feel Daddy’s gaze on me. He’s watching my every move. I can scent him, too. It’s powerful, even from this distance. It makes my pussy leak down my thighs, and he knows that. In an odd twist, that fact makes me feel powerful. I’m attractive to him, and he’s enjoying staring at me.

I also want to scream at the injustice of my reality, but my conflicting thoughts also suggest that I’m such an important possession that my Daddy simply wants me safe. He won’t let me stand, not because he’s mean, but because he’s afraid I will fall.

Why am I rationalizing his actions?

You’re a prisoner, I remind myself. Chained to an eye hook. You’re wearing a collar.

I crawl over to the sandbox. Curiosity about its contents lures me. I don’t look back at Daddy because I’m on a mission. I don’t want him to distract me with his intensity that magnetically will call me to come over to him.

I need this. I need the separation and space. My head isn’t clearer, but I want it to be. Let him look at my naked bottom. He can probably see my dripping pussy, too. And the way my breasts sway with my every move.

When I reach the sandbox, I lean over the side and touch it. A smile spreads across my face. Daddy can’t see it because my butt is all he’s getting right now. That’s okay. A private moment of my own joy is special.

So soft…

It’s infuriating that I’m totally naked.

I can’t stop thinking about that. But I climb over the short side that keeps the sand in and sit in the middle of the box.

There are toys inside. Colorful pails and shovels and rakes.

Implements similar to what I used in the garden on the space station, but these are plastic.

I lift the sand and run my fingers through it, enjoying the texture. It’s sticking to my sunscreen. I’m a mess. I don’t care. Not my problem.

That last thought makes me giggle. I’m not responsible for my own cleanliness. If Daddy wants me clean, he’ll give me a bath. In retrospect, I truly enjoyed the last bath, at least the parts where he touched me intimately.

I intentionally let sand fall all over my thighs as I fill a bucket with one of the small shovels. It’s relaxing. Maybe I could get used to this life of leisure. Reading and playing with toys all day? How could I complain?

Then my gaze lowers to the heavy chain hanging between my breasts. It’s tugging on the collar, making the device even more obvious than without the leash.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the weight of it and what it symbolizes. I’m not ignorant or stupid. I may have been raised on a space station, but I’m as educated as I can be. I had access to learning materials.

The collar and leash are meant to remind me I am owned at all times. If I behave, I will be rewarded. If I’m naughty, I will be punished. It’s simple.

What’s not simple is which of those I prefer.

I secretly enjoy both. The reward for good behavior is often very desirable.

But am I also rewarded when I ignore the rules?

I’d argue that getting my bottom spanked was kind of nice in a way.

It made me feel deeply. And that root vegetable…

I shudder at the memory. It was painful, but that ache oddly resonated in my pussy.

In a strange twist, I look back and realize the first twenty years of my existence were just that.

Existing. I had no deep feelings. I didn’t allow myself to think much beyond my current situation.

It was too scary. The chances of any of us surviving for much longer were slim.

I didn’t permit myself to hope for rescue.

But rescue came. And now I’m wondering if I wished this into existence.

It’s true that I hoped for anything, but I hadn’t seriously considered being discovered by aliens.

I’ve always secretly prayed that there were other space stations like ours.

Filled with humans. Perhaps even men. I have no evidence to back that up, but I grasped on to that possibility as a survival mechanism.

I can’t ignore the chain that hangs between my naked breasts. It makes me even more aware of the heaviness. I suppose I could twist it around so the leash reaches down my back, but instead, I pick it up and hold the weight of a section of it in my hands.

Without thinking, I spread my legs with my knees bent, set the bucket between my thighs, and coil the excess chain into the bucket as if it’s one of my toys.

It’s not ornamental. It’s thick and probably made of something that can’t be cut.

Daddy hasn’t leashed me to the yard as a symbol of my status.

He’s done so in a way that no one could possibly kidnap me. Not without removing my collar.

The collar and chain are extremely demeaning, much more so than if he attached a cuff to my wrist or ankle, but someone could cut off my arm or leg and I’d still be alive. Not my head.

I fill the bucket with sand next, and the grains settle around the chain.

I really enjoy the texture of the sand. I could sit here all day and play with it, digging my toes into it.

I bet it would be fun to dump it out from above my head so that it rains down around me.

It’s soothing. It distracts me from the two giant elephants: my nudity and my leash.