Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

A my

I tried desperately, on the walk over to the guesthouse, to figure out how I felt about being the only bad girl who would be fucked tonight. To be outside, in the nude, with the thick black base of the punishment plug between my bottom cheeks, squirming at the fullness with every step, felt like I had discovered new realms of shame. The discomfort and the arousal and the sheer embarrassment all vied so urgently for my attention that I could scarcely think straight.

To my surprise, though, I also felt a real sense of… well, not guilt , maybe, but definitely sympathy for the girls who would feel deprived tonight, because all the daddies would be using me . I seriously didn’t think I would have felt that kind of compassion before I had gotten caught stealing and sent to Bad Girl sex prison.

Before I had met my daddy.

This must be what rehabilitation feels like , I thought, feeling a frown of confusion come onto my face at the strange realization.

Tonight… the ordeal before me… I had, kind of, won it, as some sort of twisted reward, hadn’t I? I chewed my lower lip as we passed through the gilt double doors of the guesthouse. Six daddies. Would Daddy Daniel even be there?

Then I saw him, waiting at the top of the stairs that I knew led to the Hall of Pleasure. He wore the black bathrobe I had come to think of as a daddy’s robe, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight of his muscular chest with its blond curls. He smiled as Miss Frieda led me toward him, and I saw that he held a white babydoll nightgown—the same kind Miss Frieda herself wore, though I could see that the fabric of the one in Daddy Daniel’s hands was much more sheer; I could practically see right through it. Imagining having it on, I shivered at the mental picture of how much more naked I would look in the nightgown than I already did, in the nude.

Miss Frieda’s hand on my lower back guided me up the grand staircase toward Daddy Daniel. Each step sent a jolt through my body as the massive plug shifted inside me, a constant reminder of what was to come. I could feel the weight of Daddy Daniel’s gaze as we ascended, his blue eyes raking over my exposed form with a mixture of pride and hunger that made my stomach flutter.

As we reached the top of the stairs, Daddy Daniel’s scent enveloped me—a heady mixture of sandalwood and musk that made my head spin. He smiled down at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners; simple little movements of his face that somehow filled my heart with longing.

“Hello, bad girl,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “Are you ready for your big night?”

I nodded mutely, unable to find my voice as he unfolded the sheer white babydoll nightgown. The delicate fabric whispered against my skin as he slipped it over my head, the cool material settling around my curves like a gossamer veil. As I had anticipated, far from covering me, the transparent gown seemed to highlight every inch of my naked body beneath, framing my breasts and barely skimming the tops of my thighs.

Daddy Daniel’s hands lingered at my hips, smoothing the fabric and sending jolts of electricity through my core. I gasped softly as his fingers brushed against the base of the plug, a reminder of his claim on me even as he prepared me to service other men.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. “Now, let’s not keep the other daddies waiting.”

With a gentle hand on my lower back, Daddy Daniel guided me toward the ornate double doors that led to the Hall of Pleasure. The polished wood gleamed in the soft light, intricate carvings of entwined bodies adorning its surface. As the doors swung open, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

The Hall of Pleasure, as always, lived up to its name, with its sumptuous decorations in rich shades of burgundy and gold. The softness of the carpet muffled our footsteps as we entered, and the air was heavy with the scent of leather and masculine musk. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the space, their light glinting off the mirrored walls and creating the illusion of endless reflections.

In the center of the room, arranged in a semicircle, were six throne-like chairs. Each was occupied by a daddy, their powerful forms barely contained by the black bathrobes they wore. I recognized them all—Victor, Reggie, Lawrence, Tom, William, and Kwame—their eyes locked onto me with predatory intensity as Daddy Daniel led me forward.

The air seemed to crackle with tension and anticipation, above all because of what sat in the middle of the crescent formed by the daddies’ chairs: an imposing spanking bench, its polished leather surface gleaming in the warm light. The sturdy wooden frame promised both stability and exposure for whoever would be strapped to it. Thick leather cuffs dangled from strategic points, ready to secure wrists and ankles. It had a belt, as well, to pinion a bad girl around her waist and immobilize her almost completely. The sight of it sent a shiver down my spine, the mixture of fear and shameful anticipation coursing through me now familiar—but never less potent than the day I had arrived here.

Daddy Daniel’s hand on the small of my back guided me forward again, the sheer fabric of my babydoll nightgown whispering against my skin with each step. The plug in my bottom shifted as I moved, a constant reminder of Daddy Daniel’s claim on me even as I approached the other men who would use me tonight.

“Gentlemen.” Daddy Daniel’s deep voice resonated through the room. “I present to you your entertainment for the evening. Amy has made significant progress in her rehabilitation, and tonight, she’ll demonstrate just how far she’s come.”

His words sent a flush of heat to my cheeks, equal parts pride and embarrassment. I kept my eyes lowered, acutely aware of the six pairs of eyes raking over my barely covered form.

“Amy,” Daddy Daniel continued, his tone commanding, “greet each daddy properly. On your knees, kiss their cocks, and thank them for the privilege of serving them tonight.”

My heart raced as I moved toward the first chair. Daddy Victor sat there, his dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. I sank to my knees before him, the plush carpet cushioning my descent. With trembling hands, I reached for the tie of his robe, parting the fabric to reveal his already hardening cock.

“Thank you for the privilege of serving you tonight, Daddy Victor,” I whispered, before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of his shaft. The musky scent of him filled my nostrils, making my head spin.

I moved to the next chair, where Daddy Reggie waited. His massive frame seemed to dwarf the throne-like seat, and I felt tiny as I knelt before him. Again, I parted his robe, revealing his impressive manhood. “Thank you for the privilege of serving you tonight, Daddy Reggie,” I murmured, placing a reverent kiss on his cock.

One by one, I made my way around the semicircle. Daddy Lawrence, his salt-and-pepper hair lending him a distinguished air. Daddy Tom, whose boyish grin belied the intensity in his eyes. Daddy William, always impeccably groomed, even in this setting. And finally, Daddy Kwame, his ebony skin a striking contrast to the white of his teeth as he smiled down at me.

To each, I offered the same words of gratitude, the same soft kiss. By the time I reached the last chair, my lips tingled and my core ached with need. The plug in my anus seemed somehow to ground me, to tie me to my own special daddy, even as it tormented me.

As I finished greeting the last of the daddies, I felt Daddy Daniel’s presence behind me, his warmth almost radiating through the sheer fabric of my babydoll nightgown. His hand came to rest on my shoulder, firm and possessive.

“Amy,” he said, his voice low and commanding, “kneel before me.”

I turned, my heart pounding in my chest, and sank to my knees in front of Daddy Daniel. I barely noticed the softness of the carpet against my knees, my attention entirely focused on the imposing figure before me. His black bathrobe hung open, revealing tantalizing glimpses of his muscular chest and the trail of dark hair that led down to his impressive manhood.

Daddy Daniel’s ice-blue eyes locked onto mine, his gaze intense and penetrating. I felt as though he could see right through me, into the deepest recesses of my soul. The air in the Hall of Pleasure seemed to crackle with tension, the other daddies watching our interaction with rapt attention.

“Gentlemen,” Daddy Daniel addressed the room, his voice carrying easily in the hushed space, “as I said, my Amy has taken a significant step forward in her rehabilitation. She’s shown remarkable progress in her submission and her willingness to serve.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the assembled daddies. I felt a flush of pride at Daddy Daniel’s words, even as a part of me quailed at what I knew must come next.

Daddy Daniel’s hand came to rest on the top of my head, his fingers tangling gently in my hair. “However,” he continued, his tone taking on a sterner edge, “we must remember that at her core, Amy will always be a bad girl. It’s in her nature, isn’t it, Amy?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of expectation pressing down on me. “Y-yes, Daddy,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“Louder,” Daddy Daniel commanded, his grip in my hair tightening slightly. “I want everyone to hear you admit it.”

Drawing a shaky breath, I raised my voice. “Yes, Daddy. It’s true. I’ll always be a bad girl.”

The words hung in the air, a confession and a promise all at once. I felt as if I had laid bare not just my body but my very essence for all to see.

Daddy Daniel’s expression softened slightly, a hint of approval in his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured, his smile widening a little at the paradox, before he addressed me more directly.

His fingers tightened in my hair, tilting my head back to meet his gaze, warm despite the force of his grip. “And do you know what that means, Amy? That you’ll always be a bad girl?”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. The air in the Hall of Pleasure felt thick and heavy, pressing down on me from all sides. I could almost feel the other daddies leaning forward in their chairs, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. I sensed the weight of their collective gaze on my barely covered form, the sheer fabric of the babydoll nightgown doing very little to conceal my nakedness.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, my voice barely audible even in the hushed room. “I know what it means.”

Daddy Daniel’s grip tightened slightly, a reminder of his control. “And what is that, Amy? Tell me.”

I licked my lips nervously, feeling heat rise in my cheeks as I formed the words. “It means… it means I can only be fucked with a very sore bottom, Daddy.”

A low chuckle rippled through the assembled daddies, sending a shiver down my spine. Daddy Daniel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression stern. “Louder, Amy. I want everyone to hear you say it.”

Drawing a shaky breath, I raised my voice, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “It means I can only be fucked with a very sore bottom, Daddy!”

My declaration echoed in the ornate room, bouncing off the mirrored walls and coming back to me, as if the very space itself was mocking my admission. I felt my face flush hot with shame and arousal, the conflicting emotions swirling within me like a tempest.

Daddy Daniel nodded, a hint of approval in his eyes. “That’s right, Amy. And it’s time we reminded you of that fact.” He turned to address the other daddies, his voice carrying easily through the room. “Gentlemen, would you be so kind as to help me prepare our bad girl for her evening? I think she needs to be strapped to the spanking bench so I can get her ready for your cocks.”