Todos los capítulos de Daddy's Forbidden Little Pet: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

Damian turned the slender implement slowly between his fingers so the vault lights caught the polished silver and dark wood. It was elegant and unmistakable in its purpose—smooth, slightly curved, designed to open and fill.He stepped between my open knees.“Eyes on me,” he said.I forced my gaze up to his. The collar sat snug around my throat. The short chain between my cuffed wrists rested in my lap. My bare skin prickled under the cool, carefully filtered air and the weight of his attention.Damian rested the cool tip of the implement against my inner thigh and drew it upward in a deliberate line. When it reached the apex of my legs he didn’t press inside immediately. He simply held it there, letting me feel the promise of it.“You’ve written about pieces like this for months,” he murmured. “Clinical words. Safe words. Tonight you’re going to replace every one of them with the truth.”He pushed forward.The stretch was slow and controlled. The polished surface slid into me inch by

The gallery closed at four instead of six.I stayed in the back office until the last of the regular staff had signed out and the security shutters rolled down over the front windows.My hands were not entirely steady when I finally walked to the restricted elevator and entered the code Damian had given me. The descent felt longer than usual.The doors opened on the private level.Damian stood waiting in the corridor, already without his jacket. The oxblood collar and cuffs hung from one hand. In the other he held a slim black folder.“You’re on time,” he said.“Yes, Daddy.”The title came easier now. He noticed. A faint, dark approval moved through his eyes as he stepped forward and fastened the collar around my throat. The leather settled against my skin like a claim renewed. Next came the cuffs. He bound my wrists in front of me, clipped the short chain, and then simply looked at me for a moment.“Clothes.”I stripped in silence—blouse, skirt, lingerie, heels—and folded everything

The rest of the day passed in a blur of controlled intensity.Damian moved me through the remaining sessions with the same precise calm he brought to every high-value sale. He used my mouth until my jaw ached and my eyes watered.He bent me over the platform and fucked me slowly while the cameras recorded every sound. He edged me until I was shaking and incoherent, then made me thank him when he finally allowed release.He fed me small bites of food by hand between rounds. He made me drink water from a glass he held to my lips. He never raised his voice. He never rushed.By the time the light outside the building had fully faded, my body felt thoroughly claimed. Every muscle carried the memory of him. The collar around my throat had become as familiar as my own pulse.Damian released the cuffs for the last time and left the collar in place. He helped me stand on unsteady legs and guided me to a low chaise in the corner of the circular room—the only piece of furniture that looked meant

The red light came on at 11:40 p.m.I was already awake. I had been lying in the dark for over an hour, staring at the ceiling, thighs pressed together against the dull ache Victor had left inside me the night before.When the faint crimson glow spilled up the basement stairwell, my stomach dropped and tightened at the same time.I got out of bed barefoot. No robe. No underwear. Just the oversized T-shirt I had slept in. My pulse was already loud in my ears as I descended the stairs.The door was unlocked.I stepped inside. The lock engaged the second the door shut behind me. The red bulb overhead bathed everything in that same low, filthy light.Victor stood near the platform, shirtsleeves rolled, a glass of whiskey in one hand. He looked completely calm, as if he had known exactly when I would appear.“Took you long enough,” he said.“I—”“Quiet.” He set the glass down. “Shirt off. Then get on the platform. On your back this time. Legs open.”I pulled the T-shirt over my head and le

I woke to the feeling of a hand sliding between my legs.The red light was still on. The studio was quiet except for the low hum of the ventilation and my own sharp inhale.Victor was already on the platform bed with me, kneeling between my thighs, one hand braced beside my head. He was naked. Hard. His fingers stroked through the wetness that had never fully dried from earlier.“You sleep with your legs open now,” he murmured. “Even unconscious, you’re presenting for me.”I was still half-asleep, body heavy and warm, but my hips lifted toward his hand on instinct. Victor gave a quiet, dark huff of amusement. He pushed two fingers inside me without warning, curling them against the sensitive front wall until my back arched off the sheets.“Already soaked again. My wife’s daughter, sleeping naked in my soundproof room, cunt wet and ready in the middle of the night like she was trained for it.”The words made shame and heat twist together so tightly I could barely breathe. Victor watche