Page 10 of Daddy Dreadful (Forbidden Pleasures Island #5)

Chapter Nine

Millie

Of all the things he could have taken from me, my choice in using my diaper hits the hardest. It’s the one thing I’ve held onto from the moment I stepped into this lifestyle, the once thing I was keeping for my forever Daddy. And he took it from me with one simple act.

There are many sins Dr. Donovan Graves has committed against me. But this is the one I know I’ll never forget.

And never forgive.

My grief sits in my chest, heavy and suffocating as I stare up at the ceiling, trying to distance myself from what’s happening to me.

From the loss of the one gift I’d kept for my forever Daddy all these years, and I wish with everything I have in me that I had Cobie to comfort me, but I refuse to ask for anything right now. To give him any chance to play Daddy.

“There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Closing my eyes, I will back the tears that threaten to choke me. I may not have had any choice about him using the catheter, but I will be damned if I give him my tears.

He pulls the catheter from me and a moment later the soft cotton of my diaper slides out from under me. Leaving me feeling even more exposed and vulnerable than before.

It isn’t until I feel the weight of his hand on my bare thigh that my eyes fly open to meet his.

That cruel glint still lingers there as he runs his fingertips up to where I am shamefully soaking wet.

My body doesn’t seem to care how heartbroken I am, instead reacting to his strict dominance in a way that is so utterly humiliating I can barely breathe.

This isn’t what I thought I wanted. Doctor D isn’t the sweet, snuggly Daddy of my dreams, the kind who spanks only when necessary but spends most of his time spoiling his Little girl.

Even if at times my mind would drift at work, imagining what kind of Daddy Donovan might be, those were just harmless daydreams. I never wanted them to come true .

My body, however, apparently never got the memo. And when he brushes his fingertips against my swollen clit, pleasure arcs through my veins and I’m not quite fast enough to smother the surprised gasp that slips past my lips.

A low, wicked laugh reaches my ears as he slides two fingers easily inside me. “What a filthy Little girl you are, Camilla. I wonder if you’ll enjoy it when I punish that naughty mouth of yours as much as you enjoyed being forced to pee in your diaper.”

I press my lips together, determined not to give him any more fuel to use against me.

Not that he seems to notice, or care. Pulling his fingers from my pussy, he unstraps me from the table.

But instead of putting me on my knees like I expected, he simply shifts me backward so my head hangs off the edge of the soft cushion beneath me, then straps me back in.

With a press of a button, the table lowers just enough for me to realize with growing horror what’s about to happen.

Sure enough, his fingers move to the thin dress belt threaded through the loops of his pants, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to whimper as he unbuckles the belt and slowly undoes his pants.

And I get my first look at Doctor D’s huge, beautiful cock. I hate myself a little for thinking any part of him is beautiful, but I can’t lie, not even to myself.

“Open that naughty mouth, Camilla Joy. Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to defy me right now.”

Something dark and threatening slithers around his words and I know in my heart he’s telling the truth. That fighting him on this will only cause me more pain and suffering than I’m prepared to handle.

And yet, I still have to force my trembling lips to part because there is a piece of me that wants to fight. Wants him to hurt me, to force me, and I can’t tell if it’s rebellion… or something far more sinister.

The moment my mouth opens enough for him, he guides his cock between my lips.

Hanging upside down the way I am, he’s able to slide deeper than any man before him, and just as he promised, I end up choking on his cock, the muscles of my throat contracting around his length.

Worse yet, I can barely breathe through my nose in this position, especially when he slides deep enough for his balls to rest on my face.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stay there long, and I’m able to gasp for air when he pulls free of my mouth. But only for a few seconds before he thrusts into my mouth again. The sounds of my gagging fill the room as drool slips from the corners of my mouth, rolling up my face and into my hair.

Pulling free once more, he runs a thumb through the saliva coating my cheeks. “My naughty little Camilla.” There’s an odd note to his voice, one I could almost mistake for affection if I didn’t know any better. “Who am I?”

I know what he wants from me. And while some rational part of my brain is screaming for me to give it to him, to give in to his demands and hopefully put an end to this torment, I can’t.

The title he wants means something to me.

It’s so much more than just a word. It’s a promise.

A promise that he will cherish and care for me, and a promise that I will submit and surrender myself into that care in even the most intimate ways.

And because I cannot give him that promise, I cough to clear the scratchiness from my throat left behind by his cock and speak as clearly as I can. “You are Dr. Donovan Graves.”

His sigh is heavy, and even though I don’t want to submit, don’t want to be his Little girl, the weight of his disappointment still sits heavy in my chest. “Let’s try this again.”

Over and over, we repeat the dance with him fucking my face for longer and longer bursts before asking me the same question. And every time, I give him the same answer.

Who am I, Camilla?

Doctor Donovan Graves.

Who am I, Camilla?

Donovan. Donovan Graves.

Who am I, Camilla?

D-Donovan. Doctor D.

My throat is raw and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve answered that same question with some variation of his name when he sighs. “When did you get so stubborn?”

I’m not sure. I’ve always been a good girl, willing and eager to please. But ever since I put in my notice, that desire seems to have disappeared, at least where he’s concerned.

Actually, if I’m being honest, it started happening long before I put my notice in.

Every day with him over the past year has chipped away at my innate people-pleasing tendencies.

Putting my notice in simply gave me a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt before.

What did I care if he wrote me up or punished me or sent me away?

I was leaving anyway. And now, even though I’m trapped here, I can’t seem to find the girl I was before him, the sweet, willing-to-do-anything-for-anyone Millie I was when I first came to the island.

“Guess you just bring it out in me,” I answer, my voice rough from his abuse of my mouth and throat.

To my surprise, he chuckles at my response.

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m much more stubborn than you could ever dream of being, my naughty little Camilla.

And I have no problem punishing you for every single act of defiance until you’re ready to be my sweet, obedient girl again.

” Leaning down, he drops his voice to a low whisper.

“In fact, I’m very much looking forward to it.

You know how I enjoy hurting sweet Little girls like yourself. ”

With that, he grips my hair, bending my head back at an even more unnatural angle as he drives into my mouth again.

Only this time, he doesn’t bother to pause to ask his question.

He simply fucks my throat without mercy, ignoring my struggles as I gag and fight for breath with every stroke.

Until, at last, he goes still, his heavy ball sac resting against my nose as his cock swells in my mouth.

Hot cum pours down my throat and I have no choice but to swallow, still gagging around the length of him.

When he’s done and I’ve swallowed what I can, he pulls a pacifier gag from his pocket and slips it between my lips before buckling the strap around my head.

Instinctively, I suck at the rubber tip, and though I don’t want to be comforted by anything he does or anything he gives me, my entire body relaxes.

I’ve always loved a pacifier, and even having it forced on me does nothing to change that.

His hands are surprisingly gentle as he lifts me from the changing table, once again shocking me with how strong he is.

Sniffling against the tears streaming unbidden down my face, I fight the urge to curl into him as he carries me into the bathroom.

He sets me on the closed toilet lid and I watch as he moves around the room with that same lethal grace I’ve tried not to notice when I’ve observed him at the office.

Everything hurts. My throat from the thorough face-fucking he gave me. My limbs from struggling against the straps holding me to the changing table.

My chest, from so many emotions I can’t give names to all of them. But there is one that stands out from the rest, possibly because I’m so familiar with it. And it’s that emotion I’m certain is responsible for the majority of the pain sitting squarely in my chest.

Longing .

For what, I’m still not sure. Not for him , I’m positive of that.

But maybe for what he represents. A Daddy who is not only willing but eager to care for me, even my most intimate needs.

If I squint, I can almost picture someone else in his place, can almost pretend this is the life I’ve always dreamed of.

With the bath running, Donovan returns to where I’m sitting on the closed toilet lid. He tugs my onesie up over my head, tossing it into the waiting hamper before lifting me back into his arms and lowering me into the tub.

The water isn’t nearly warm enough. Leaning forward, I reach for the knob to turn the heat up, but a sharp smack to my hand has me jerking backward in shock.

To my horror, fresh tears well in my eyes as I stare up at his fierce expression.

Lips trembling around the pacifier in my mouth, I hold my hand close to my chest. Just like back on the plane and in the hotel, it isn’t even that the swat hurts all that much, but that it makes me feel impossibly small and naughty.

“Little girls don’t touch the temperature of their baths. What if you accidentally made it too hot and burned yourself?”

I’ve been bathing myself for years without issue, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. And with the pacifier strapped into my mouth, I can’t even ask him to warm it up.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I give an exaggerated shiver, and he surprises me by laughing. Not his usual cruel chuckle, but a deep, from-the-belly kind of laugh that warms me from the inside out. I can’t remember if I’ve ever heard him laugh like that, and I hate how much I love the sound.

“All right, little one. Daddy will turn it up a little for you.”

He turns the knob a fraction to the right and I shiver again, even more exaggerated this time. It takes several tries to get the water even close to what I consider warm enough, and even though I would have liked it even hotter, Donovan puts his foot down and refuses to turn it up any further.

Resigned to a lukewarm bath, I sit back and sink down into the water, closing my eyes and floating for a bit. With my eyes shut, I can pretend, at least for a little while, that I’m just enjoying a bath on my own instead of being forced into it by a man I loathe.

All too soon, my relaxing floating time comes to an end as Donovan goes to work scrubbing every inch of my body. No matter how hard I try, I can’t fully separate myself from the feel of his hands gripping various parts of me so he can rub the soap-laden washcloth over my skin.

And I really, really can’t separate myself from his finger, slick with soap, pushing insistently into my asshole. Humiliation burns along my skin as he cleans every inch of me with the same thoroughness he shows in everything else he does.

But I don’t fight him. He loves it when Little girls fight and cry and whine. I think he loves the fight more than he enjoys their eventual surrender.

So I refuse to give him the one thing he wants, silently bearing my humiliation until he’s finally satisfied I’m clean enough for the bath to be over. Opening the plug to drain the tub, he lifts me from the water and sets me on my feet, wrapping me up in the fluffiest bath towel I’ve ever felt.

“Are you ready to be a good girl for me, Camilla?” he asks, his voice so soft and tender it’s hard to reconcile the man in front of me with the cold, sadistic doctor I used to work for.

I’m not, but I am ready to get rid of the pacifier gag, so I nod. The smile he flashes me as he reaches for the buckle on the gag is so bright, so approving, my heart trips in my chest.

Again, I can almost imagine he’s someone else, someone who actually loves me and cares for me as he pulls the gag from my mouth and hoists me up into his arms to carry me back into the nursery.

“All right, little one. Time to get dressed.”