Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Her biometrics show deep submission patterns,” Georgia continued, scrolling through graphs. “Cortisol levels have normalized. Arousal response to authority cues has increased forty percent. By every measurable standard, she’s progressing faster than any subject we’ve processed through Project Dollhouse.”
“Which brings us to the question of next steps,” I said, exchanging a glance with Ed. “We’ve been discussing her readiness for double penetration.”
Ed nodded. “She’s taken us anally multiple times now. Her body has adapted well. And her pussy is practically dripping every time we inspect her. I think she’s ready to have both her daddies inside her at once. It’s early, but if we’re following the developmental guidelines it’s indicated. It should unlock even more of her potential.”
I saw something flicker across Georgia’s face—a momentary tightening of her features that made me pause. She set down her tablet carefully, her movements deliberate.
“I need you to wait,” she said, her voice taking on an edge of authority that commanded attention. “Don’t advance to that milestone yet.”
Ed’s eyebrows rose behind his glasses. “Why not? The data supports—”
“The data supports what I’m about to tell you,” Georgia interrupted, which was unusual for her. She rarely cut off male colleagues, preferring to let them finish before demonstrating why they were wrong. “I missed something in Pam’s initial assessment. I’ll own that oversight. But I’ve been reviewing her patterns against the full database, including the qualitative studies from the Institute’s first two decades, which aren’t fully digitized.”
She pulled up a new set of graphs, overlaying Pam’s data with several other case studies marked with red flags.
“I think it’s clear that Pam is exhibiting what Abigail Podret called suspended defiance syndrome,” Georgia explained, her finger tracing one of the curves. “It’s a rare pattern—we’ve only documented it in eleven subjects out of over three thousand girls trained by various Institute and Selecta programs.”
I felt a frown grow on my face as I looked at the graph in the lower right of Georgia’s slide, which showed compliance over time. Pam’s line matched the others until it ended, and the other lines continued because those girls had gotten much further in the training.
“You’re seeing it, right?” Georgia asked.
“Their compliance falls off a cliff,” I agreed, feeling myself nod. “Their defiance got… yeah, I get it. Suspended.”
“So?” Ed asked. “What’s your recommendation, Georgia, beyond delaying her first DP?”
“I need you to be vigilant,” Georgia told us. “This could go either way.”
She moved on to her next slide. I saw immediately what she meant, my hand moving to cover my open mouth as my jaw dropped a little. The graph showed the continuation of the graphs for the girls who had manifested this suspended defiance syndrome. Two thirds of the lines showed dropping compliance and dropping achievement. The remaining third showed those same qualities skyrocketing.
“What’s the intervention?” Ed asked sharply. “The one that turned it around?”
Georgia smiled. “I’m going to send you a protocol on the shared drive. It’s not simple, but I think you’ll pull it off. In particular, when the time comes you’re going to have to be harsh, and save the tenderness for later.”
Ed looked over at me.
“What?” I said, feeling a little defensive. “I can be harsh when I have to be.”
Georgia nodded. “I know you can. Just don’t skimp on the vigilance. Pam is brilliant. It’s not impossible that she gets something past you. That would be the worst outcome: the lowest lines on this graph correspond to girls who got away with something for long enough to ruin their training.”
Pam
A week into Operation Hornet I could still barely believe that I had become such a valued, diligent member of the Project Dollhouse bad girl team. In a less welcome development, that status apparently meant a kind of duty I definitely hadn’t anticipated.
“Little Seventy-One,” Daddy Bill said to me when he and Daddy Ed came to get me in the Workshop. “Little Fifty-Three’s daddies have requested that you attend her training session today.”
I felt my stomach drop at Daddy Bill’s words. Emily’s training session. My mind immediately went to what that might mean, and none of the possibilities seemed good.
“Yes, Daddy,” I heard myself say, the compliance automatic now after a week of conditioning.
They led me out of the Workshop and down the hallway to a room I’d never entered before. The door was marked ‘Training Room 3’ and when Daddy Ed pressed his palm to the scanner, I heard voices from inside even before the door opened.
Two men I didn’t recognize stood near a padded bench in the center of the room. One was tall and broad-shouldered with graying hair, the other shorter and more compact with sharp features. Emily knelt naked on the floor between them, her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes downcast in a posture of perfect submission.
“Ah, excellent,” the taller man said, his eyes moving to me. “It’s nice to meet you, Little Seventy-One. I’m Daddy Ben, and this is Daddy Howard. We’re Emily’s daddies.”