The Church of Big Daddy Dick Ch. 02

II. The Steel Harlot

As the interior of this girl-shaped prison begins to hum, your new Daddy smiles sweetly through the slim window before you. "We call this the Steel Harlot. Most Daddies here would save the Harlot till you've been ours a few days. The Steel Harlot is for when we're ready to really break a girl for the first time, make her understand deep inside why she's come here. None of you sluts are ever the same afterward." That smile curves to malice. "But I've heard your reputation; never has a filthier tale touched my ears. I know what you need, my naughty girl, and it is not mercy."

With that the window slides shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your desperate, dripping cunt.

Yet not in darkness--a number of LED panels flicker to life directly before your captive eyes, casting the interior of the head's chamber in a wine red glimmer. With the doors closed you can no longer turn your face away. As the door latched, a half band of steel clicked into its mate emerging from behind you, then shrank as one till they fitted tightly round your throat. You can breathe, but something tells you this steel band can keep shrinking even more; you can breathe, but you you are now keenly aware that you do so at the pleasure of Daddy and his Steel Harlot. You are helpless, alone, imprisoned, and have never wanted to be anything else so badly. All you can do is stare ahead as some of the panels begin to display different video feeds.

One feed shows your crimson lit breasts, quivering--a motion gravity turns to jiggling--as you breathe hurried, shallow breaths. Your heart thumps in your ears as you watch a pair of translucent cups on clear, segmented hoses snake their way from somewhere beyond the camera frame toward your defenseless nipples. You'd think it was below freezing in here the way those delicate nubs are poking out. All you can do is watch, feel, surrender, as those cups press their way against your breasts, cupping your areolas--and begin to suck, drawing those already sensitive blood-dark tits to full attention.

Another feed displays a closeup of your cunt. The ripe plum light emanating from the walls here transforms your cunt's usual fuscia flush into more a violet. Why not the same red as up here on your face? Then you notice a strange florescence round your leaking hole, a glow emanating from this slit so many have defiled. You realize Daddy has his newly owned cunt under a blacklight for proper inspection. That glow you see comes from your own juices, leaking in frustration and expectation. Before you can wrap your head around that nugget, you watch in combined horror and arousal as four tiny pincers creep into view on camera, each aimed at a different section of your labia. "Please," you beg into the crimson cavern round your head, but your cunt may as well belong to a different girl, in a different room, for all the power you have over her now. Those clamps attach to your sopping lips, two on each side, and spread them tight. Now what little defense your labia gave your hole is gone; every sensitive cell of your cunt is forced to present itself boldly to whatever comes next.

A third feed shows your ass; a pair of thin metal arms emerge, one from each side, to spread those bubbly cheeks. You can't move at all, not even to wriggle as a probe slathered and dripping with thick, viscous lube creeps toward this next exposed hole. You might as well be trying to lift yourself by your own hair. If Daddy hears your cry when the probe forces its way inside you, he gives you no indication--but of course Daddy hears you. A brief vision of Daddy stroking his cock as he listens to your wails flashes through your mind. The probe works mechanically, pumping and rotating within you to spread the lube evenly. It pulls out of you, draws back off camera, then returns moments later covered in a fresh helping, four more times before Daddy is apparently satisfied his girl's ass will be able to take what he has in mind.

"Remember, my sinful girl, surrender is the only true path to redemption." Daddy's voice reverberates off the Steel Harlot's interior all around you. "Your choices alone have led you to this place. Well, your choices, and your naughty, incurable drives." He chuckles. "The important thing to know, my new fucktoy, is that everything that is about to happen is your fault. You deserve this. Tell me."

"I deserve this," you breathe back to Daddy, knowing he can hear. That he is going to hear everything.

"That's my good girl." Four simple words, but on that feed with the blacklight you see a sudden spray from your cunt. Those words. You never needed anything more all your life than to hear those words off Daddy's lips, and now that you have, you've never needed anything more than to hear them again.

Then several things happen all at once, all of which you can see on different video feeds. Thin, tongue-like tendrils emerge within the cups over your areolas. They tease every sensitive centimeter of those poor pressure-engorged nipples, flicking them like tiny wet tongues; a slightly larger, flatter tendril wraps round each nipple and strokes both up and down in time. On another feed appears the head of a wand--of course you know those well--borne by a mechanical arm toward your exposed clit. Rising from below the wand comes a veiny rubber cock on a similar conveyance, dripping lube, aimed at your needy hole; the feed of your ass shows the same coming from another angle. The wand head hits your clit at the same moment both cocks penetrate you. You want to twist, lurch, wriggle. Your fingers straighten and your toes curl, but your arms and legs are held too lightly within their respective compartments to so much as tremble effectively. All that is left for you to do is scream. For the love of all that is unholy and wicked, you scream like no man has ever made you scream before.

You hear his voice echo all around: "Let no greedy slut defile what it is Daddy's sole right to defile."

Various LED panels begin to show other videos. A thousand different cocks flash by on one feed, interspersed with words like SUCK and WORSHIP and GAG and SWALLOW blinking by so quickly that your conscious mind can barely make them out--but your subconscious laps those messages up as eagerly as you would lap Daddy's cum from the floor. Other screens show Daddy's face, Daddy's hands and forearms, looking up at Daddy from your knees, Daddy's cock from every angle imaginable. You know this is your Daddy's cock, can taste it on your tongue again each time it flashes by. Messages speed by on this feed too, such as YES DADDY and PLEASE DADDY and I BELONG TO DADDY, swimming their way into your mind through the ocean they make of your cunt. Yet another feed shows quick shots of girls sucking cock, riding cock, begging for cock, praying to cock, worshiping cock; I AM ADDICTED TO COCK--I HAVE NO CONTROL--PLEASE SAVE ME DADDY. The red light in the head chamber begins to strobe. PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME FREE. Are you crying? I AM A SINFUL, NEEDY GIRL. Crying, and cumming. PLEASE PUNISH ME DADDY. Neither will stop. PLEASE MAKE MY DECISIONS FOR ME, DADDY.

On the red light goes, flicker flicker flicker, till your perception of time melts away. You only know time is still moving because you're yet to stop screaming. Every scream echoes within this prison of punishing pleasure. Every "please," every "Daddy," every "oh gooooooooodddd." From your lips a prayer, and back to your ears like the voice of god.

The blacklight on your cunt's feed is doing its job. Luminescent squirt flows down that rubber cock as it pumps inside you methodically, consistently. Each thrust happens at exactly the same speed, always exactly the same depth. You are helpless but to take its whole length, after which it pulls all the way out so its rubber glans can tease the rim of your desperate hole for a half second before it forces its way inside you again. It never stops, it never changes pace, insistent, irresistible, inevitable. Meanwhile, your poor exposed clit has found her new god. This miraculous, nefarious wand vibrates, rumbles, warms, presses your clit down and holds her trapped in place while it does all of these things at once. Then, it eases up the pressure to circle round your clit, driving you mad from a different direction every moment. Your hips instinctively try to wriggle away, but they won't move at all. Glowing squirt streams from this needy pussy--yes, still needy, even with all of this--leaks from your hole every time that big cock pulls out. On every thrust, perfectly in time, you feel its twin claim your ass as well, deeper and thicker than you ever thought you could take.

You never would have chosen this for yourself, never realized this was what you've always needed, yet you find yourself repeating like a catechism, "I need it, I need it, Daddy," as you sob in religious ecstasy.

THIS IS WHAT I'M FOR, DADDY, all the LEDs flash in unison. You try to repeat the words as you read them, but your voice is so hoarse.

The Steel Harlot slows; both cocks withdraw from your holes, though they rest a bare centimeter from returning to them. The wand lifts and stills. The tendrils retreat from your nipples, the cups depressurize. The LEDs go black and the red light fades, and Daddy opens that narrow window to a world you'd almost forgotten existed. He stares into your wild, blurry eyes, and shakes his head.

"Daddy," you manage to choke out, "please, I'm a slut, I'm a whore, I'll do anything, please may--"

"No." Daddy's voice is firm. "I can see you're still not ready to confess your darkest sins. Do you think you can hold anything back from your Daddy, slut? Perhaps I was taking mercy on you after all, this being your first time. Let's turn the Steel Harlot up to half power, activate a few more of its functions, and try again."

The window slides shut. The Steel Harlot resumes where it left off, at double the intensity. You're only aware you begin screaming again because you can hear the echo in some distant elsewhere your mind has left behind.

Thought slides away. You are sensation. You are surrender. You are sex, uninhibited and wild. You are a thing in a box, meant to be owned and used. You are what Daddy decides he wants you to be in this moment. At last you suffer your religious epiphany. You don't want to choose. You don't want control. You don't even want any control over whether or not you get to choose.

You want to worship at the Church of Big Daddy Dick, where a naughty girl can come to have all her decisions made for her.