Page 33 of A Bad Girl's Needs

Amy

When I woke up in my cell the next morning, my whole body, but especially my bottom and my pussy, felt like—well, like two strong men had used me like a sex doll for their pleasure.

I didn’t know how I could possibly bear more of that. Something in me, though, half-buried in a deep, still-mostly-unexplored part of the region where soul and body met, still wanted to try. I remembered how I had seemed to travel out into the cosmos, when the daddies had fucked me, how the ordeal of submission had uncovered something… magical.

How Daddy Daniel had been right, about what I needed, and how it made me want to obey him.

To be his good girl.

I frowned, remembering him telling me he was going to leave—he’d probably already left. I thought I’d seen regret in his eyes, though perhaps he had tried to hide it.

He would come back, though… and in the meantime…

I shivered, remembering what Daddy Daniel had recommended to his friends—were all billionaires friends, I wondered? Or just the ones who liked to whip and fuck bad girls?

She needs a lot of cock. Be sure to fuck her as soon as you get the chance.

After Daddy Daniel left, though, to my surprise, the other daddies didn’t seem to take his advice. I expected, with dread but also with helpless anticipation, that the scene on the cell block the previous morning would be repeated, just with more daddies. Surely the three new ones from last night would want to follow Daddy Daniel’s advice?

And when Miss Frieda and Mr. Samuel roused us for inspection, indeed, Daddy Otto, Daddy Victor, Daddy Reggie, and Daddy Lawrence were there waiting.

The girls they chose to punish and use, though, were Heather, Mia, Lila, and Zoe. It took me a little while to realize that it had to be because Megan, Jenna, and I were off limits this morning thanks to how brutally we’d been punished and fucked yesterday. In the meantime, the four daddies had decided to line their four chosen bad girls up against the wall and whip them in unison.

Even when I did understand—and after I had shared a mutual wincing look with Jenna and Megan, the three of us commiserating with one another for how sore we all were and sympathizing with the girls getting whipped—my first, insane reaction at not getting chosen for punishment and sexual use didn’t really fade.

Disappointment.Jealousy, even.Hadn’t Daddy Daniel told them to useme?

In the days that followed, though, once I could walk without whimpering, I got what I needed. Over the next two weeks, I became intimately acquainted with the various daddies who frequented the Institute. Each day brought new punishments, new humiliations, and new heights of shameful pleasure.

Daddy Victor seemed to delight in pushing my limits. His favorite game involved tying me spread-eagle to the bed in his guesthouse room and alternately whipping me and edging me for hours, bringing me to the brink of orgasm over and over without allowing release. By the time he finally entered me, I was a quivering, begging mess with a very sorry bottom, desperate for his cock.

Daddy Reggie preferred group scenes. He would often pair me with Jenna or one of the other girls, making us pleasure each other while he watched. Then he would decide which of us had performed better and reward that girl first with the paddle and then with his thick cock. The loser would have to kneel nearby and watch, not allowed to touch herself.

Daddy Lawrence verged more on sadism in his tastes. He favored implements like canes and crops, leaving vivid red welts across my ass and thighs. The pain was intense, often bringing me to tears, but it was always followed by exquisite pleasure as he fucked me hard and fast.

Daddy Otto continued to be fascinated by anal play. He would spend long periods working me open with fingers and toys before finally claiming my ass with his massive cock. The stretch and burn were overwhelming at first, but I soon found myself craving the unique fullness only he could provide.

Through it all, thoughts of Daddy Daniel were never far from my mind. Even as the other daddies used my body in increasingly creative and degrading ways, I found myself comparing their touch to his, their voices to the low rumble of his commands. It was Daniel’s face I pictured when I closed my eyes, his approval I sought as I submitted to whatever depraved acts the others demanded of me.

One evening, after a particularly intense session with Daddy Victor that left me trembling and sore, I lay curled on my thin mattress in the cell. My body ached, covered in welts and bruises from the brutal whipping I’d endured. But it wasn’t just physical pain that consumed me—there was an emptiness in my chest, a longing I couldn’t quite define.

As I drifted off to sleep, I found myself wondering what Daddy Daniel was doing at that moment. Was he thinking of me too? Did he miss the way I felt wrapped around his cock, the sounds I made when he brought me to orgasm? Or was I just another bad girl to him, easily replaced by the next willing submissive that crossed his path?

The rational part of my brain knew it was foolish to develop feelings for any of the daddies, let alone one as powerful and unattainable as Daniel. This wasn’t a fairy tale—there would be no happily ever after where he swept me off my feet and made me his one and only. I was here to be used, to learn my place. To be rehabilitated. As insane as I had found the idea when I had arrived at the facility, I thought I could feel myself becoming a different person—or, really, a different version of myself.

A better version.

As the days passed, though, I found myself thinking more and more about Daddy Daniel. During sessions with other daddies my mind often drifted to the few memories of him I had. I wondered what he was doing, where he was, if he ever thought about me.

One afternoon, as Daddy Victor had me bent over a spanking bench, my ass raised high and my legs spread wide, a strange thought struck me. What if Daddy Daniel could see me right now? The idea sent an unexpected jolt of arousal through my core, making me clench around the thick dildo Daddy Victor had just pushed inside me.

“What’s this?” Daddy Victor chuckled, feeling my reaction. “Getting excited thinking about my cock, you little slut?”

I whimpered, unable to articulate the shameful fantasy forming in my mind. Daddy Victor’s hand came down hard on my already tender bottom, making me yelp.

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” he growled.

“I… I was thinking about Daddy Daniel,” I confessed, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

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