Page 74 of Baby Girl
If you choose to use this gift, it comes with three rules.
1.You must send me a photo as you are starting.
2.You must send me a photo when you are finished.
3.You are only allowed to use the fourth setting.
Hudson.
The fourth setting?
Within seconds, the instruction manual is in my lap and open to theHow to change the settingspage, which conveniently has a graphical representation of what the settings feel like.
Setting one is a straight line.
Setting two is also a straight line.
What?
Oh, wait, I see. It’s higher than the first one, so I take that to mean it must be more intense.
Setting three is a wave, right in the middle.
Setting four is a series of triangles from the baseline to almost the top of the range, with a small gap in between each triangle.
I stare at it, my brain automatically making a vibrating sound in my head that matches the diagram.
vvvVVVvvvvVVVvv.
That’s…diabolical. How would anyone be able to orgasm on that? You’d get close and then, bam, it would go away. Over and over. It would be torture.
Ah. That’s it, then. Torture. What an asshole.
I scan the rest of the settings, and there is one that looks like a square wave, another that I think is maybe a pulse? And about six more that are a mix of variations and combinations of the first six.
Turning back to Hudson’s letter, I reread it, wondering if there is any wiggle room at all. But nope. That rule is pretty rock solid. Heat pools in my core, and I try to ignore it, because this is absolutely not turning me on. I forbid it.
The letter needs to go with all the others—in the journal he gave me. And he needs to be given a piece of my mind.
Forcing myself out of the bed, I grab everything I need from the desk and go back to the bed, shuffling everything around until the journal is unlocked and in my lap.
I flick through the pages, glancing over the previous entries.
Some of them have been long, stream-of-consciousness thoughts and feelings. Others have one of his notes stuck to the page before and then my response is on the next page. There are even a few messy sketches, since the pens can’t give me the shading I need, but they get the message across.
I get to yesterday’s entry and turn to the blank page, carefully using some washi tape to attach it before starting my reply on the next page.
Daddy,
That setting is mean. It’s not even worth using! Not that I’m going to use it. It’s going to get buried at the bottom of my drawers. I’m not even going to take it out of the packaging.
I can’t believe you sent me that.
Seriously.
Poor Oakley will be scarred for life knowing I have a vibrating purple cock in my bedroom. Every time she hears an odd noise, she is going to wonder if I’m getting it on with myself. So weird.
But seriously. This gift is naughty. You shouldn’t have sent it.
