Page 15 of Double Daddies
I wake from my nap feeling oddly refreshed. Probably because I was so completely wrung out from those multiple orgasms before they put me back in my crib. And as I sit up, looking around the bedroom I found myself in just this morning, I wonder if I should just… stay.
After all, it’s not like I would have made anything of myself in New York. I might have had grand dreams of pursuing some kind of acting career but realistically I know that hardly ever pans out. And even if it did, I’d still be busting my ass just to afford a shitty apartment.
So if the alternative is letting a couple hot guys treat me like a babygirl and spank me from time to time in exchange for a swanky place to live and three meals a day, it seems like a pretty good deal, all things considered. At least until they get tired of me and send me packing. But hopefully I’ll have enough time to come up with a better plan of action for the next stage of my life before that happens.
Worst-case scenario, I have somewhere warm and dry to sleep and plenty of food in the meantime.
Pushing up in my crib—yup that still feels weird as fuck but hey, it’s a bed—I look around. After all that milk right beforemy nap, my bladder is making itself known and I need to pee. Scanning the sides of the crib, I look for a latch or something so I can let myself out.
A hint of silver catches my eye and I leverage up onto my knees, looking over the side. It’s a latch, just as I expected, with a matching one on the opposite side.
Just as I’m reaching for them to lower the side of the crib, the sound of someone clearing their throat stops me in my tracks.
“What are you doing, princess?”
Daddy Byron’s voice holds more curiosity and humor than anger, which seems like a good sign. But my stomach still ties itself into a knot as I look up. “I need to use the bathroom.”
His face lights up, which only makes those knots in my stomach even tighter. “Oh, excellent. Ezra! Our little princess needs to potty.”
God, does hehaveto say it like that? I know I’m supposed to be their baby or whatever, but geez. It’s almost like they enjoy humiliating me.
Then again, after what I witnessed them doing together earlier, maybe they do. At least, Daddy Ezra definitely seems to enjoy a bit of embarrassment with his sex.
The man himself steps into the room, his dark eyes bright with excitement. “Do you need to potty, little one?”
“I need to use the bathroom,” I repeat, the stubbornness that I know will be my downfall kicking in. For whatever reason, I can’t bring myself to simply say “Yes, Daddy” when they’re talking to me this way.
“Little girls don’t use the bathroom,” Daddy Ezra says, his words leaving no room for argument. “They go potty in their diapers.”
It takes a moment for his words to fully register. And when they do, horror washes over me.
Absolutely the fuck not.
I do have some sense of self-preservation, however, so I swallow the profanity-laden response and opt for pouting up at them instead, forcing my eyes wide as I let my bottom lip tremble. “Please don’t make me do that, Daddy.”
Everything about Daddy Ezra seems to soften at my plea and he steps forward to run a hand over my hair. “I know it’s hard, princess. But you’ll get used to it after a while.”
“I don’twannaget used to it!” Once again, I realize how much I actuallysoundlike a whiny Little girl and a wave of humiliation crashes over me. What is it about these men that brings me to this state so easily?
Daddy Byron takes his place beside Ezra, his smile sympathetic. “It’ll be okay, princess. Let us help you.”
Before I can ask what he means, he plucks me from the crib and carries me over to the changing table and lays me flat on my back. They strap me in, just like before, and Daddy Ezra presses on my stomach.
Right on my bladder.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I resist the urge to pee, though it’s growing more and more insistent by the second.
But then another sensation joins the painful pressure. A slight pinch as someone captures my nipple between their fingers and gives it a gentle squeeze.
“Open your eyes, my sweet little princess.” Daddy Byron’s voice is soft, cajoling even, with a sing-song quality that has my eyes slowly fluttering open as he toys with my breast. “There’s our pretty girl. Use your diaper like a good girl and you can have another orgasm. How does that sound?”
“You spoil her,” Daddy Ezra mutters, but the corners of his lips are lifted in a slight smile when he says it. “She’s going to expect a treat every time she does something she’s supposed to at this rate.”
“As she should. Our sweet girl should have all the orgasms she can handle. And more.”
Pain and pleasure flash through me in equal measure as Daddy Byron gives my nipple a harder pinch. “It would make your Daddies so happy if you used your diaper, princess.”
If I keep them happy, they’re much less likely to send me away. Or it will at least take longer for them to grow tired of me.
