Page 156 of Morally Gray Daddies

"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.

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