Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

D aniel

I’d known Otto Blankenship for about five years now. We shared a taste for naughty girls, but frankly he tended to take what seemed to me a lazy approach. His choice of Zoe certainly reflected that—Otto clearly had little interest in aiding in the girl’s rehabilitation.

I felt a good deal of gratitude, though, for his straightforward take the bad girl into her cell and fuck her in the ass approach. The effect Zoe’s cries of mingled discomfort and arousal had on Amy seemed profound, strong enough perhaps even to help her to a breakthrough.

Her body tensed under my caressing hands, and I knew that she would act as Miss Frieda had anticipated when she had briefed me about the gorgeous, curvy, clearly whip-smart girl.

“If you get the chance, Mr. O’Hara,” the bewitching trainer had told me, “ask her to admit that she did the wrong thing when she committed her crime. Her assessment team is ninety percent sure she’ll deny it. Maybe it doesn’t seem like much, but provoking that opposition would be a very good first step in bringing her to understand herself and her motivations better.”

Amy’s head turned, her eyes suddenly blazing. I could see her hands, flat against the wall, tremble at the fury my question had unleashed. Every muscle in her frame seemed at the point of a futile attempt at flight.

“No!” she said. “I told you. I didn’t have any options… I had…”

In those fierce brown eyes I could see that she knew she had in fact definitely had options. She could have gone back to her Educational Facility and asked the corps who ran it—probably Selecta itself, actually—to train her to do something useful. Not exciting, not glamorous, but on the correct side of the law.

I didn’t hesitate: I shifted my weight a little, taking hold of Amy’s delectable right hip with my left hand, and I raised the paddle high. I got the cock-stiffening pleasure of seeing her jaw slacken and her eyes widen as she saw me—my dominant blood sang at the sheer ambiguity of her expression, in which I read the urgency of her need for strict discipline alongside her fear of it.

Amy’s face crumpled. Her mouth started to form the N of No! I brought the paddle down, very hard. The stroke rang out against the concrete walls, and a moment later Zoe let out a sob from her cell as Otto undoubtedly began to impale her little bottom on his cock.

Amy cried out, and I saw tears welling up afresh in her eyes as she stared at me, her mouth now a pout of woe.

“Turn your face to the wall,” I ordered, “and count.”

Amy

I knew I didn’t have any choice, though my body kept screaming to run away. I turned my eyes back to the white-washed concrete in front of me.

“Three!” I screamed. “Th-thank you… Daddy… p-please, may I…” I swallowed hard on a sob, whimpered, and finally choked out, “may I have another?”

I yelped as the paddle fell again, my body jerking forward against the rough concrete wall.

“Four!” I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Thank you, Daddy. Please, may I have another?”

Daddy Daniel’s hand came to rest on my lower back, his touch both soothing and possessive. “You’re taking your punishment well, Amy,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “But I think we both know you need more than just a paddling to truly learn your lesson.”

My heart raced, a mixture of fear and unwanted arousal coursing through me. From Zoe’s cell, I could hear her muffled cries of pleasure and pain as Daddy Otto fucked her ass. The wet sounds of their coupling echoed in the corridor, making my cheeks burn with shame and my pussy clench with need.

“Tell me, Amy,” Daddy Daniel said, his breath hot against my ear. “What do you think you need right now?”

I bit my lip, trying to fight the words that threatened to spill from my mouth. But the ache in my womb, the burning of my paddled flesh, and the sounds of Zoe’s ambiguous pleasure all conspired against me.

“I… I need…” I whimpered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Say it,” Daddy Daniel commanded, his hand sliding down to cup my ass cheek, squeezing the tender flesh.

Daddy Daniel’s hand slid lower, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. “Your paddling won’t stop until you beg for what you really need, Amy,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “I want to hear you ask for it like Zoe did. Beg me to fuck that tight little asshole of yours.”

My cheeks burned with shame, but the ache between my legs and the lingering sting of the paddle conspired against my pride. “Please,” I whimpered, the word escaping before I could stop it. “Please, Daddy. I… I need you to… to fuck my ass.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in Daddy Daniel’s chest. “Good girl,” he purred. “But I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple.” His skilled fingers danced along my slick folds, teasing but never quite giving me the pressure I craved. “You see, Miss Frieda told me about an old principle of the Bad Girl program. I think I’ll use it as a rule of thumb.”

I whimpered, pressing back against his hand, desperate for more contact. “Wh-what principle?” I managed to ask, my voice breathy and trembling.

Daddy Daniel’s fingers circled my clit with maddening lightness. “It’s quite simple, really,” he explained, his tone casual as if we were discussing the weather rather than my impending anal defloration. “But very meaningful for you and your fellow bad girls. You’d like to hear it, wouldn’t you?”

Daddy Daniel’s fingertips continued their teasing dance, bestowing feather-light touches on my clit that sent jolts of electricity through my body. I bit my lip hard, trying to stifle the moans threatening to escape. His other hand kneaded my tender, freshly paddled flesh, the sting reigniting with each squeeze.

“Come now, Amy,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “Don’t you want to know the principle that will govern your time here? The rule that will determine when and how you receive pleasure?”

I shook my head stubbornly, even as my hips betrayed me, rocking back against his skilled fingers. The cool concrete wall scraped against my sensitive nipples, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure assaulting my senses.

Daddy Daniel tsked softly, his fingers dipping lower to tease my entrance. “Such a stubborn little thing,” he mused. “But your body knows what it needs, even if your mind is still resisting.”

To my horror, I felt a fresh gush of wetness coat his probing fingers. The sounds of Zoe’s brutal ass-fucking from the nearby cell seemed to grow louder, her moans and whimpers a constant reminder of what awaited me.

“Please,” I whimpered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

“Please what, Amy?” Daddy Daniel prompted, his skilled fingers never ceasing their torturous exploration.

“Please tell me the principle,” I finally whispered, my voice cracking with desperation. The constant teasing of Daddy Daniel’s fingers had me trembling on the edge, my body betraying me with its eager response to his touch.

Daddy Daniel’s hand stilled, resting heavily on my hip. “Miss Frieda,” he called out, his voice echoing in the corridor. “Would you do us the honor of announcing the principle to these bad girls?”

I heard the sharp click of Miss Frieda’s heels as she approached. My cheeks burned, knowing she could see my exposed, quivering form pressed against the wall, Daddy Daniel’s hand still intimately placed between my legs.

“Certainly, Daddy Daniel,” Miss Frieda’s cool voice rang out. “Listen carefully, bad girls. This principle will govern your time here and determine how and when you receive pleasure.”

There was a moment of tense silence, broken only by the increasingly frantic sounds coming from Zoe’s cell. Then Miss Frieda spoke again, her voice clear and firm:

“Bad girls only get fucked with a very sore bottom.”

As if on cue, Zoe’s cries suddenly intensified. “Oh, God! Oh, fuck!” she wailed. The wet slapping sounds grew louder and faster, leaving no doubt that Daddy Otto had begun pounding her ass in earnest.

Before I could fully process Miss Frieda’s words or Zoe’s cries, I felt Daddy Daniel’s hand leave my hip, and I heard the whoosh of the paddle cutting through the air. It crashed into my bottom cheeks with a resounding crack that echoed off the concrete walls. White-hot pain exploded across my backside, stealing my breath and making my vision blur.

“F-five!” I screamed, my voice raw and breaking. “Th-thank you, Daddy! Please… please, may I have another?”

I barely had time to catch my breath before the paddle whistled through the air again. The impact sent shockwaves of agony rippling through my body. I arched my back, pressing my forehead against the cool concrete as I fought to stay in position.

“S-six!” I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Thank you, Daddy. Please… may I have another?”

My bottom felt like it was on fire, the skin tight and throbbing. Each breath sent fresh waves of pain coursing through me. Yet beneath the agony, I felt an undeniable heat building between my thighs. The thought of Daddy Daniel fucking me once my bottom was sufficiently sore sent a jolt of arousal straight to my pussy.

I heard Miss Frieda’s heels on the concrete as she approached. “Shall I take that paddle, Mr. O’Hara?” she asked, her voice cool and professional. “I have lube here for you, too. I recommend not using too much, so that Amy understands you’re disciplining her.”

My mind reeled, trying to process Miss Frieda’s words and the implications of what was about to happen. The idea of anal sex as a form of discipline sent a confusing mix of fear, shame, and unwanted arousal coursing through my body. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against the cool concrete as I tried to steady my breathing.

Zoe’s cries echoed from her cell, a cacophony of pain and pleasure that made my stomach churn. “Oh God, Daddy!” she wailed. “It hurts so good… please don’t stop!”

I felt Daddy Daniel’s large hands grip my hips, pulling them back and angling my bottom up. The movement stretched my paddled flesh, reigniting the fiery sting and making me whimper. His fingers ghosted over my tender skin, tracing the welts left by the paddle.

“Such a pretty shade of red,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “But I think we can make it even prettier once I’m buried deep in this tight little hole.”

I heard the snap of a cap opening, and then the cool sensation of lube being spread around my puckered entrance. Daddy Daniel’s finger circled my anus, applying gentle pressure but not yet breaching me. My body tensed involuntarily, clenching against the intrusion.

“Relax, Amy,” he cooed, his free hand rubbing soothing circles on my lower back. “Show your new friends how good a girl you can be for your daddy.”

“Yes, girls,” I heard Miss Frieda declare. “Play close attention to what’s happening to Zoe’s and Amy’s bottoms. Several other daddies have booked stays in the guesthouse beginning this evening. You’ll have their cocks in your own bottoms soon.”

I heard one of the unseen, naked bad girls in their row behind us let out a little sound, somewhere between fear and disbelief. At the same time, I heard Daddy Daniel unzip his fly.

“Jenna?” Miss Frieda said. “Do you have some problem with the idea of obedience? Or with receiving the consequences of your actions?”

“No, Miss Frieda,” I heard Jenna say in a tiny voice.

“Turn around and touch your toes,” the trainer said, her voice severe.

I let out a sob, then, because Daddy Daniel had accompanied my mental image of pretty, red-haired Jenna bending before Miss Frieda with the pressure of the head of his cock against my tiny, untried anus.

“Let me in, bad girl,” he murmured, bending over to place his lips against my ear. “A naughty girl like you knows how to do this, I’m sure.”