Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

D aniel

I had to leave the next morning to get to a meeting in Dubai. I debated asking Miss Frieda, when she came to fetch Amy and Jenna, to leave Amy with me for the night. As the lovely trainer swept in, the hem of her nightgown moving seductively over her upper thighs, though, I remembered the look I had seen in Amy’s eyes, right after I had recommended to my college classmate Lawrence Grell that he should fuck Amy as soon as he could.

The conflict I had noticed in the muscles around those beautiful chocolate orbs had made my heart jump; I had seen in that moment that my bad girl had started to develop feelings for me. I had also seen, though, without needing Miss Frieda’s precisely calibrated data gathering, that—despite everything I had already put her through that evening—Amy Pizzarelli’s adorable, thrillingly hairless pussy had just clenched.

Our bad girls have very particular needs. That sentence featured prominently in the leather-covered binder that lay on the desk in my sumptuous room.

If I requested Amy for the night, held her in my arms until she fell asleep, I knew it would make both of us feel good—for the moment. I didn’t have any doubt that Miss Frieda, Mr. Samuel, and the rest of the highly trained staff of the Bad Girls Facility, not to mention the other daddies, would ensure that Amy didn’t pine for me, either. She might carry a little torch for me somewhere in her heart, but her rehabilitation depended on her learning the urgency and the crucial importance of her need to submit to many men.

My heart was the one on the line. I watched Amy and Jenna take off their sweet, lacy teddies and put them in the laundry basket Miss Frieda showed them. I almost called out to the trainer, to instruct that Amy be brought to my room. I thought, if I did, Miss Frieda would probably impose the restriction that I not use Amy’s pussy or bottom; she would need a couple of days to recover, I felt sure, and the Institute was very good at keeping their bad girls healthy. My yearning to hold my naughty slut, though, had a much more tender inclination.

And if I really need to come , I thought , I’ll have her mouth.

That idea stiffened my cock instantly, despite how thoroughly satisfied the evening’s session had made me. The little fantasy arose irresistibly in my mind: waking Amy in the early morning, right before I had to leave for the Institute’s little airport… pushing her tousled, still half-asleep head downward… hearing the little whimper of mingled protest and desire she would let out as I made her take my hardness between her lips… holding her head and fucking her face gently until I left her with a final helping of my warm seed in her sweet tummy…

My lips parted, and again I almost spoke to Miss Frieda. The trainer made Amy and Jenna kneel in front of me and Otto where we had returned to our easy chairs.

“Thank you for punishing me and using me, Daddy,” Amy said, her eyes downcast as she knew they must be.

I put out my hand and lifted her chin. She raised her eyes to mine, a bewitching little smile on her face. An answering smile came onto my face; I couldn’t have kept it from showing even if I’d wanted to.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” I replied. “Thank you for your obedience. I’m leaving early tomorrow, and you won’t see me for a while.”

That same conflict appeared in Amy’s face: the clear affection for me, but also the growing knowledge that even if she could have belonged solely to me, she would still have needed more.

I had one final impulse to request her for the night, but I suddenly felt absolutely sure that if I did I would put myself in the gravest danger of my life, emotionally speaking. I accepted on an intellectual level that my sweet bad girl couldn’t belong to me, but my heart refused to cooperate.

“That’s too bad, Daddy,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly. “You’ll come back, though?”

Even if I tried to stay away, I knew I would fail miserably.

“Yes,” I told her. “I’ll come back to use you again.”

Amy

When I woke up in my cell the next morning, my whole body, but especially my bottom and my pussy, felt like—well, like two strong men had used me like a sex doll for their pleasure.

I didn’t know how I could possibly bear more of that. Something in me, though, half-buried in a deep, still-mostly-unexplored part of the region where soul and body met, still wanted to try. I remembered how I had seemed to travel out into the cosmos, when the daddies had fucked me, how the ordeal of submission had uncovered something… magical.

How Daddy Daniel had been right, about what I needed, and how it made me want to obey him.

To be his good girl.

I frowned, remembering him telling me he was going to leave—he’d probably already left. I thought I’d seen regret in his eyes, though perhaps he had tried to hide it.

He would come back, though… and in the meantime…

I shivered, remembering what Daddy Daniel had recommended to his friends—were all billionaires friends, I wondered? Or just the ones who liked to whip and fuck bad girls?

She needs a lot of cock. Be sure to fuck her as soon as you get the chance.

After Daddy Daniel left, though, to my surprise, the other daddies didn’t seem to take his advice. I expected, with dread but also with helpless anticipation, that the scene on the cell block the previous morning would be repeated, just with more daddies. Surely the three new ones from last night would want to follow Daddy Daniel’s advice?

And when Miss Frieda and Mr. Samuel roused us for inspection, indeed, Daddy Otto, Daddy Victor, Daddy Reggie, and Daddy Lawrence were there waiting.

The girls they chose to punish and use, though, were Heather, Mia, Lila, and Zoe. It took me a little while to realize that it had to be because Megan, Jenna, and I were off limits this morning thanks to how brutally we’d been punished and fucked yesterday. In the meantime, the four daddies had decided to line their four chosen bad girls up against the wall and whip them in unison.

Even when I did understand—and after I had shared a mutual wincing look with Jenna and Megan, the three of us commiserating with one another for how sore we all were and sympathizing with the girls getting whipped—my first, insane reaction at not getting chosen for punishment and sexual use didn’t really fade.

Disappointment. Jealousy, even. Hadn’t Daddy Daniel told them to use me ?

In the days that followed, though, once I could walk without whimpering, I got what I needed. Over the next two weeks, I became intimately acquainted with the various daddies who frequented the Institute. Each day brought new punishments, new humiliations, and new heights of shameful pleasure.

Daddy Victor seemed to delight in pushing my limits. His favorite game involved tying me spread-eagle to the bed in his guesthouse room and alternately whipping me and edging me for hours, bringing me to the brink of orgasm over and over without allowing release. By the time he finally entered me, I was a quivering, begging mess with a very sorry bottom, desperate for his cock.

Daddy Reggie preferred group scenes. He would often pair me with Jenna or one of the other girls, making us pleasure each other while he watched. Then he would decide which of us had performed better and reward that girl first with the paddle and then with his thick cock. The loser would have to kneel nearby and watch, not allowed to touch herself.

Daddy Lawrence verged more on sadism in his tastes. He favored implements like canes and crops, leaving vivid red welts across my ass and thighs. The pain was intense, often bringing me to tears, but it was always followed by exquisite pleasure as he fucked me hard and fast.

Daddy Otto continued to be fascinated by anal play. He would spend long periods working me open with fingers and toys before finally claiming my ass with his massive cock. The stretch and burn were overwhelming at first, but I soon found myself craving the unique fullness only he could provide.

Through it all, thoughts of Daddy Daniel were never far from my mind. Even as the other daddies used my body in increasingly creative and degrading ways, I found myself comparing their touch to his, their voices to the low rumble of his commands. It was Daniel’s face I pictured when I closed my eyes, his approval I sought as I submitted to whatever depraved acts the others demanded of me.

One evening, after a particularly intense session with Daddy Victor that left me trembling and sore, I lay curled on my thin mattress in the cell. My body ached, covered in welts and bruises from the brutal whipping I’d endured. But it wasn’t just physical pain that consumed me—there was an emptiness in my chest, a longing I couldn’t quite define.

As I drifted off to sleep, I found myself wondering what Daddy Daniel was doing at that moment. Was he thinking of me too? Did he miss the way I felt wrapped around his cock, the sounds I made when he brought me to orgasm? Or was I just another bad girl to him, easily replaced by the next willing submissive that crossed his path?

The rational part of my brain knew it was foolish to develop feelings for any of the daddies, let alone one as powerful and unattainable as Daniel. This wasn’t a fairy tale—there would be no happily ever after where he swept me off my feet and made me his one and only. I was here to be used, to learn my place. To be rehabilitated. As insane as I had found the idea when I had arrived at the facility, I thought I could feel myself becoming a different person—or, really, a different version of myself.

A better version.

As the days passed, though, I found myself thinking more and more about Daddy Daniel. During sessions with other daddies my mind often drifted to the few memories of him I had. I wondered what he was doing, where he was, if he ever thought about me.

One afternoon, as Daddy Victor had me bent over a spanking bench, my ass raised high and my legs spread wide, a strange thought struck me. What if Daddy Daniel could see me right now? The idea sent an unexpected jolt of arousal through my core, making me clench around the thick dildo Daddy Victor had just pushed inside me.

“What’s this?” Daddy Victor chuckled, feeling my reaction. “Getting excited thinking about my cock, you little slut?”

I whimpered, unable to articulate the shameful fantasy forming in my mind. Daddy Victor’s hand came down hard on my already tender bottom, making me yelp.

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” he growled.

“I… I was thinking about Daddy Daniel,” I confessed, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Daddy Victor’s laugh was low and knowing. “Ah, I see. Wondering if he’d enjoy watching you take this big toy in your greedy cunt, are you?”

His words made me gasp, the image so vivid in my mind I could almost believe Daddy Daniel was right there in the room with us. I nodded, unable to deny it.

“Well, you naughty little slut,” Daddy Victor purred, his voice low and dangerous. “You might be interested to know that he very well could be watching right now.”

I gasped, my head whipping around to look at him over my shoulder. “W-what do you mean?” I stammered, my heart racing.

Daddy Victor smirked, his hand coming down to deliver another stinging slap to my upturned bottom. “Did you really think the Institute wouldn’t have cameras set up all over the place? In the cells, the showers, the punishment rooms… even here in the guesthouse?”

My mind reeled at this revelation. Cameras? Everywhere? That meant… oh, God. Every degrading act, every punishment, every shameful moment of pleasure—it had all been recorded. And not just recorded, but potentially watched in real time by… by who? The other daddies? The Institute staff?

Daddy Daniel?

The thought sent an unexpected jolt of arousal through my core, making me clench again around the dildo still buried inside me. Daddy Victor noticed, of course, and chuckled darkly.

“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” he teased, slowly rotating the toy inside me. “The thought of Daddy Daniel watching as I use your slutty little body… it turns you on, doesn’t it?”