CHAPTER13
Georg
I watched Briana walk toward Garonov with misgiving in my mind. Her defiance to Vassily hadn’t brought disaster—in fact, it might actually have helped keep her safe, since she had managed to reinforce Ivan’s idiotic notion that he knew how to use the voice of authority. But she had also showed that her wildcat response—as the assessors at Selecta called it—had grown dangerously strong.
The art and science of managing and then making use of bad girls’ wildcat responses had become, I knew, one of the most important subfields of Selecta’s research into the submissive psyche. What the scientists learned had of course strongly influenced the megacorp’s practical application of that knowledge—the way men like the daddies in Advanced Guidance trained girls like Briana and helped them become happy (and valuable) members of what the current CEO of Selecta called the Selecta family.
I wished I knew more: as a natural dominant myself I had devoured all the information the agency had given me from Selecta, but megacorps kept their secrets very closely even from those who like me had both clearance and, potentially, need to know. What I had learned about submissives’ wildcat responses told me first and foremost that more than any other factor they distinguished bad girls as belonging to that particular category—bad girls were bad because they had a strong tendency to wildcat.
As far as my reading went, when a girl manifested a wildcat response, her actions and words came straight from her unconscious. Briana herself had had no idea—still had no idea—why she had said, “Suck it yourself.” The sensor between her thighs would have told an assessor that, I felt certain, but I had sensed it myself somehow the moment the words emerged. Briana’s skin had seemed to tell me.
I wished for a moment as Ivan pushed Briana up to the bench, within reach of Garonov, that I had time to consider that—the feeling I had had that I could somehow read my diaper girl’s mind through her skin. I wished I could think about how fucking hard it got me to think about her as my diaper girl.
I wished I knew whether my message to her real daddies had gotten through. I felt sure my heads-up about the imminent attack on the Lumberjacks’ bunker had kept them safe despite Garonov achieving his main objective of stealing Briana. If Briana’s real daddies had survived unhurt, and if my message to the drone had made it to them, everything could work out very well.
As long as Briana doesn’t wildcat at the wrong time, and fuck it up.
I watched Garonov reach his hand out to take my little girl’s chin in his fingertips, grip it so that she had to look into his pitiless but hungry eyes. The warlord spoke in his version of the voice of authority.
“Lie down on the bench on your back, slut,” he said, as Ivan took the handcuffs off Briana’s wrists. “Let’s see what you did in your diaper.”
* * *
Briana
Emotions roiled in my head, my chest, my belly. Intellectually, I understood precisely what Papa Nicolai meant to do—maybe better than he himself knew it. He needed to humiliate me. I thought I could even tell that he had that need because of what my Lumberjack daddies had done to his organization, or his empire, or his country, or whatever.
In his eyes, I could see that he saw in me—in my naked, diapered body, above all—the symbol of the wrongs he thought my daddies had done him. He intended to punish me and to degrade me as absolutely and completely as he could, to win a victory over me that he couldn’t ever have won over my Lumberjacks.
My Advanced Guidance daddies and especially my Lumberjack daddies had taken great care—and great pleasure—in regressing me to the little girl I had really never gotten to be in real life. They did it to discipline me, yes, because that represented the kind of discipline a bad girl like me needed sometimes—just as much as I needed their firm hands on my bottom from time to time, or even their hard cocks in my ass, to keep me in line.
‘Papa’ Nicolai—for I could barely think of him as a papa, let alone a daddy, at this point—clearly took pleasure in putting me in a diaper and humiliating me that way. He did it with no care at all, though. Papa Georg, the daddy who had actually done it… my new papa… he cared for me, he took care with me, and he knew how to make me feel truly little… the way I needed. This man, though, the one who had just pretended to use the voice of authority… he cared only for himself.
The same kind of urge that had made me talk back to Vassily started to rise inside me. I remembered my daddies talking about wildcatting sometimes. I hadn’t fully understood—it seemed like a term they used with the technical people at Selecta—but I knew it meant my bad girl side coming out. I had learned, in bad girl prison, to recognize that defiance as it built up inside me, and I had even learned—mostly—to control it.
I had lost that ability in Papa Nicolai’s bunker, I realized now, and standing across the bench from him I realized also that I probably needed it very badly. With Vassily, my defiance had just gotten me slapped, and then Papa Georg had helped me respond to asshole Ivan the way I should.
Papa Nicolai had just used what I had managed to convince him represented the actual voice of authority, though. My brain knew I needed to do as he had said.
My body wouldn’t do it.
Wildcat. Unreasonable, stupid rebellion, basically.
Which could get me killed. And Papa Georg too, because he would try to save me, wouldn’t he?
Ivan saved me, though, this time at least, through his sheer stupidity. He spoke in Russian, and I knew precisely what he must have said: You did it wrong. Then he spoke to me, in English, using his version of the voice.
“Lie on the bench on your back, whore.”
I wanted desperately to turn and look at Papa Georg. If I could see in his eyes that all this degradation… the whole lewd, humiliating ordeal I knew would begin in earnest once I had obeyed these evil men’s commands… if I could see that my papa would enjoy watching them use me and he would call me his good bad girl afterwards and hold me in his arms while he fucked me himself… somehow it felt like I could do it without fear of what it would mean to wildcat and show Papa Nicolai that he couldn’t make me obey just with the sound of his voice.
I had been gangbanged before; graduation from Advanced Guidance required a demonstration of a bad girl’s ability to enjoy her submission to this ultimate, filthiest bad girl act. Two teams of daddies—six huge men in all—had used my mouth, my pussy, and my bottom until I could hardly walk, covered in their semen, back to my cell. I had feared the graduation gangbang but the Advanced Guidance daddies had demonstrated all their skill and made it fun even as they called me a dirty whore and a little slut.
The soreness had only kicked in after the pleasure from all the orgasms had faded. My daddies had also permitted me to play with myself as much as I wanted after gangbanging me, so I had distracted myself from the discomfort by reliving the wanton scene in fantasy. The whole experience, thanks to my daddies’ care, had made me proud—though the memory still always brought a blush even to my bad girl face.
My Lumberjack daddies had fucked me all together, too, on a couple of occasions. After my graduation from bad girl prison, having three cocks in me at the same time didn’t even seem like that big a deal. The Lumberjacks maybe didn’t have the same training as my AG daddies, but they all had the daddy instinct, and they knew how to take their dominant pleasure in a way that left me feeling valued despite their degrading dirty talk.
Group sex, that is, didn’t pose a problem for me—including the kind of group sex that a lot of people would look at, from the outside, as beyond the pale.