Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
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.