The morning after the nightclub, I woke up before Daddy. My body ached in the most familiar way now a constant, dull reminder of how thoroughly I had been used. The collar felt heavier against my throat today, and when I shifted, I could still feel the faint stretch from the plug and the vibrator.
I turned my head to look at him. Daddy was still asleep, his strong arm draped possessively over my waist. Even in sleep, he held me like I might disappear if he let go.
A strange wave of emotions hit me all at once.
This is wrong.
The thought came uninvited, sharp and sudden. He was my stepfather. The man who had raised me after Mom died. And here I was naked, collared, filled with his c*m, craving more.
But the other part of me, the louder part now, whispered back: This is the only place
