The days after Daddy’s decision settled into a strange, addictive rhythm.
There were no more secret calls. No more mentions of Sophia. Only us.
But the guilt still lived in the quiet moments when I cooked breakfast naked except for my collar, when I knelt under his desk during meetings, when I woke up in the middle of the night with his c*m still leaking out of me.
One evening, after a particularly rough session where he had used all three of my holes, I lay curled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“Daddy?” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
I hesitated, tracing circles on his skin.
“Do you ever… regret choosing me? Really?”
Daddy was quiet for a long moment. Then he rolled me onto my back and hovered over me, looking down with those intense gray eyes.
“Every single day,” he said ho
