Page 157 of Morally Gray Daddies

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."

Chapter Four

Lord Adrian

I stepped out of my Bentley and handed the keys to the valet. Straightening my bespoke suit jacket, I strode purposefully towards the imposing gates of the Bad Girl Program facility. The high stone walls and barbed wire gave the place an ominous air, but I only felt anticipation as I approached.

From the moment I had seen Emily's profile on the Selecta Arrangements app, I was intrigued. A young American woman caught embezzling, now being "rehabilitated" through strict discipline and sexual training — she seemed like the perfect candidate to help rehabilitate my own image and satisfy my dominant urges.

At the entrance, I was greeted by a stern-faced man introducing himself as Victor Hargrove, Emily's "Training Daddy." I couldn't help but curl my lip at the term, but I maintained my aristocratic composure.

"Hargrove," I replied with a nod. "Pleased to meet you. I see on this handy little app that Emily has just completed her daily punishment session? She's waiting in the viewing room for my inspection?"

Hargrove smiled.

“That’s right, my lord. We like to keep potential sponsors well informed.”

Following Hargrove down a stark hallway, the sound of my Italian leather shoes echoed off the tiled floors. We stopped outside a door marked "Observation."

"Just remember, my lord," Hargrove reminded me, "you may look but not touch at this stage. If you decide to sponsor Emily, you'll have full access to use her as you see fit. But for now, this is just to assess her suitability."

I nodded curtly, impatient to see the girl who might be the key to rebuilding my tarnished reputation. Hargrove opened the door, revealing a small room with a large one-way mirror dominating one wall. On the other side of the glass stood Emily.

My breath caught as I took in the sight of her. She was even lovelier than her profile photos had suggested. Petite and slender, with long auburn hair cascading over her shoulders, she had the kind of delicate beauty that made a man want both to protect and to possess her. Her green eyes were wide and apprehensive as she fidgeted nervously, clearly aware she was being observed but unable to see through the mirror.

What truly caught my attention, however, was her state of dress — or rather, undress. Emily wore only a thin pink cotton camisole that barely reached her navel, leaving her lower half completely exposed. Her freshly shaved mound was on full display, as was her bottom, which glowed a vivid pink — a deeper shade even than her camisole’s — from her recent spanking.

"Turn around slowly, Emily," Hargrove's voice came through a speaker. "Let your potential sponsor see all of you."

Emily bit her lip, her cheeks flushing, but she obeyed. As she rotated, I got a full view of her reddened backside. The sight sent a jolt of arousal through me. I could almost feel the heat radiating from her well-spanked flesh.

"Excellent," I murmured. “Simply excellent.”

Emily

My face burned with humiliation as I slowly turned, knowing unseen eyes were examining every inch of my exposed body. The pink camisole offered no real coverage, leaving me feeling utterly vulnerable, exposed, and degraded.

My bottom still throbbed from Daddy Victor's harsh spanking after lunch, a constant reminder of my new status as a naughty little girl in need of discipline. It had been the third spanking I had gotten here, one for each day I had spent in the Bad Girl facility. Daddy Victor announced each one the same way: “This is what happens to girls who steal.”

This room — the viewing room, my Training Daddy had called it — was new, though.

As I completed my rotation, facing the mirror once again, Daddy Victor's voice crackled through the speaker. "Now bend over and touch your toes, Emily. Show your potential sponsor how obedient you can be."

I hesitated for just a moment, my stomach churning with shame. But the memory of my recent punishment was still painfully fresh. Biting my lip, I slowly bent forward, reaching for my toes. The position left me obscenely exposed, my reddened bottom cheeks spreading to reveal my most intimate areas. Tears pricked at my eyes as I held the humiliating pose.

"Very good," Daddy Victor praised. "You may stand up now and turn around."

I straightened, my legs trembling slightly. My gaze darted nervously around the room, wondering who might be watching me from behind that mirror. Was it just Daddy Victor? Or had my "potential sponsor" arrived? The thought sent a confusing mix of fear and excitement coursing through me.

"Emily," Daddy Victor's voice came again. "Your potential sponsor would like to hear you explain why you're here and what you've learned so far.

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