Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Emily

I gasped as I felt something cool and smooth press against my pussy. Dr. Langley seemed to be holding something that felt like a tube, or a wand.

"This is a specialized vibrator," she explained in her clinical tone. "We'll be measuring your responses to various types of stimulation."

As she spoke, I heard a beep, and a low hum filled the room as unwelcome sensation coursed through my body. I bit my lip, trying desperately not to react. But my body had other ideas.

"Very good," Dr. Langley murmured. "Your arousal levels are rising quickly. You're quite responsive."

I closed my eyes for a moment, mortified. When I opened them I found that Daddy Victor had leaned over me to study my face. His stern gaze, fixed on me, was observing every reaction. A whimper escaped my throat.

I squirmed against the exam table, unable to keep still as the vibrations intensified. Dr. Langley adjusted something on the device, and suddenly the sensations became even more intense. A moan slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

"Excellent," Dr. Langley noted. "Your nervous system is highly receptive to sexual stimulation. Your training program will benefit greatly from that."

My cheeks burned with shame, but I couldn't deny the waves of pleasure coursing through me. The rational part of my brain screamed that this was wrong, that I shouldn't be enjoying this. But my traitorous body responded eagerly to every tingle flowing from my clit through the rest of my body.

"Please," I whimpered, though I couldn't tell if I wanted her to stop or continue.

"Hush now," Daddy Victor's deep voice rumbled. "Be a good girl and let the doctor finish her examination."

Those words — "good girl" — sent an unexpected thrill through me. I bit my lip hard, trying to stifle another moan.

Dr. Langley increased the intensity once more. "We're going to bring you to climax now, Emily," she stated matter-of-factly. "This will give us important data on your orgasmic response."

"No, I can't—" I started to protest, but my words dissolved into a gasp as the vibrations reached a new peak. My hips bucked involuntarily, pressing my pussy desperately against the device.

My body tensed as the sensations built to an unbearable crescendo. I gripped the edges of the exam table, my knuckles turning white. A low keening sound escaped my throat as I teetered on the edge. I closed my eyes, wishing crazily that it meant they couldn't see me: the maddeningly calm doctor and, even worse, the enormous Daddy Victor.

"You can, Emily," I heard his deep voice tell me. "Come for Daddy right now. Right this moment."

Those words pushed me over the precipice. My back arched as waves of pleasure crashed over me. I cried out, my body shuddering uncontrollably. Through the haze of my orgasm, though I kept my eyes shut, I felt as if I could feel Daddy Victor's intense gaze still fixed on my face, cataloging my every reaction.

As the aftershocks subsided, Dr. Langley removed the vibrator. I lay there panting, my mind reeling from what had just happened. How could I have climaxed so intensely in these humiliating clinical circumstances?

"Excellent data," Dr. Langley remarked, tapping something into a tablet. "Emily shows a strong predisposition for submissive sexual behavior and responds well to verbal commands during arousal."

She turned to Daddy Victor. "I believe she's ready for the first stage of her training. Her body is primed for the kind of sexual discipline you and her Sponsor Daddy will be implementing."

Sponsor daddy? I could hardly tell, in the aftermath of my climax, if I had heard the words correctly.

"Thank you, doctor," Daddy Victor replied. "I'll take it from here."

Dr. Langley nodded and left the room. I expected Daddy Victor to help me up from the table. Instead, he moved to a cupboard in the corner of the room. My heart began to race again as I heard him rummaging around inside. When he turned back to me, he was holding an electric clipper.

"W-what's that for?" I stammered, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew.

"We need to get you nice and smooth between your legs and bottom cheeks," he replied matter-of-factly. "Little girls don't have grown-up curls down there."

My face flushed hot with humiliation. "Please, I…." My mind raced. "I can… I can do it myself," I protested weakly.

"No, Emily," Daddy Victor said firmly. "This is part of your training. You'll lie still and let daddy take care of it."

Tears pricked at my eyes as I heard the buzzing of the clippers start up. I wanted desperately to cover myself, to run away, but I was frozen in place by fear and the lingering effects of my intense orgasm.

"Now, while I shave you, I'm going to explain a bit more about the philosophy behind your rehabilitation program," Daddy Victor continued as he began trimming my pubic hair.

I bit my lip, trying not to squirm as the clippers moved over my most intimate areas.

"You see, Emily, certain girls misbehave from a deep-seated need rooted in their submissive sexuality," he explained. "They're crying out for discipline — discipline of a very specific kind."

Daddy Victor had focused his attention, at the beginning of this narration, exclusively on my pussy. My pretty red curls had fallen quickly away under his expert attention, and I had succumbed to a kind of horrified fascination at the process. When he glanced up at me for a moment, though, the blood rushed to my face in a scalding instant.

"These girls need a kind of paternal care they didn't get enough of as children," he continued, his mouth quirking up slightly into a smile as if at my fierce blush. He returned his attention to my vulnerably pussy, my exposed anus. His voice stayed steady as he worked the clippers over my most sensitive areas. "But because they're of age, and have healthy — though often repressed — sexual appetites, it's essential that the discipline they receive have a large sexual component."

I squeezed my eyes shut, mortified by his words and the vulnerable position I was in. The buzzing of the clippers seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room.

"That's why you'll be treated as a misbehaving little girl, Emily," he went on. "You'll be punished harshly when you break rules. And you'll be used sexually by the Daddy who sponsors you."

My eyes flew open at that. "Sponsors me?" I gasped.

"That's right," Daddy Victor replied calmly. "After your initial training period with me, you'll be sponsored by a suitable Daddy for the remainder of your rehabilitation. He'll have complete control over you — your discipline, your sexual training, every part of your life. It's part of a partnership with another program, called Selecta Arrangements, that Selecta is just now bringing to the UK."

I felt dizzy, overwhelmed by what he was saying. This couldn't be happening. It had to be some kind of nightmare.

"There, all done," Daddy Victor announced, setting aside the clippers. "Now the shaver, to make you smooth."

I trembled as I felt the electric shaver begin to glide over my freshly trimmed mound. Daddy Victor's large hand rested on my inner thigh, holding me open as he meticulously removed every last trace of hair.

"You must be as smooth as possible between your legs and bottom cheeks," he explained, his deep voice matter-of-fact. "This will remind you that inside your panties, you've been returned to little-girlhood."

My cheeks felt like an open oven, but I couldn't stop the flutter of arousal low in my belly at his words. What was wrong with me?

"Your smooth, bare private parts will remind you that you're vulnerable and dependent," Daddy Victor continued. "Just like a little girl who needs her daddy's guidance and discipline."

When he finished, he ran a hand over my newly bare skin, checking for any missed spots. I shivered at the touch, and bit my lip to keep from whimpering.

"There. Nice and smooth, just as you should be," he said with satisfaction. "Now, your punishment for embezzling will begin immediately."

My heart raced and my knees trembled under me as Daddy Victor helped me off the exam table. He took firm hold of my arm just above my elbow. I felt my forehead crease at the confusing, almost overwhelming mix of signals: my nakedness, my newly bare pussy, my training daddy's hand guiding me. He propelled me out of the room on shaky legs. We walked down a long corridor before stopping at a heavy metal door.

"This is the punishment room," Daddy Victor informed me as he opened it.

I gasped as I took in the sight before me. The room was dimly lit, but I could make out its menacing furniture and see things hanging on one of the walls. Another was occupied by a mirror, like you might find in a dance studio, and it was my reflection, naked and bare, next to the huge man in the dark suit, that had taken my breath away.

My eyes widened as they adjusted to the light and I took in the room's contents in greater detail. The things on the wall… various implements that I recognized with a hard swallow — paddles, straps, canes. In the center stood an imposing chair, its wooden frame solid and unyielding. Not far away a bench stood, webbing straps hanging from the sturdy metal. My tummy lurched as I understood they could only serve to restrain someone atop the vinyl surface.

Daddy Victor guided me towards the chair, his grip on my arm firm. "This is where naughty girls learn their lessons," he said, his deep voice rumbling through me. "You're going to become very familiar with this chair."

I trembled as we approached, my bare feet cold against the tile floor. The reality of my situation was crashing down on me. This was really happening. I was about to be spanked, like a child, by this stern man who now controlled my life.

Until he hands me over to someone else. My new Daddy. My Sponsor Daddy. My mind reeled.

"Over my lap," Daddy Victor commanded as he sat in the chair. He pulled me to his right side, my knees against his muscular thigh, clad in the wool of his suit trousers.

I hesitated, my cheeks hot. "Please," I whispered, though again I wasn't sure what I was pleading for, and the repetition had begun to sound… well, petulant.

Like a naughty little girl.

His enormous hand took hold of my bare bottom and squeezed it hard. I cried out, trying reflexively to jump away but only pressing myself further against Daddy Victor's leg. "Now, young lady. Don't make me tell you twice."

Biting my lip, I awkwardly draped myself over his muscular thighs as he used the strong hand on my backside to ensure I ended up centered over his lap. The position left me feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable. My freshly shaved pussy pressed against the rough fabric of his trousers, a reminder — just as Daddy Victor had said it should be — of how childlike and dependent he'd made me.

"We're going to start with a hand spanking," Daddy Victor informed me. "A little girl punishment for a big girl crime."

He rested his huge hand on my bottom for a moment, as if he meant to measure it, assess it. My breath caught in my throat as I waited for the first smack.

When it came, the sharp crack of his palm against my bare flesh made me gasp. The sting bloomed across my skin, quickly followed by another swat. And another.

Daddy Victor spanked me very hard and very fast. His firm hand covered most of my bottom with each smack, and he changed spots so that he left no part of my vulnerable backside untouched. The pain built rapidly, transforming from individual stings into a blazing inferno that consumed my entire bottom.

I struggled and kicked, trying desperately to get away from the relentless spanking. But my Training Daddy was far too strong. He twisted my right arm behind my back, pinning it there. Then he shifted me further over his left knee and clamped his right leg over both of mine, trapping me completely.

"No! Please!" I cried out, my voice high and childlike to my own ears. "I'm sorry!"

But Daddy Victor didn't slow his pace. If anything, the spanks seemed to get even harder.

"This is what happens to naughty girls who steal," he lectured as he continued to rain down smacks. "You're going to learn to be a good girl, Emily. No matter how long it takes or how sore your bottom gets."