Page 36 of A Bad Girl's Needs

Immediately, helplessly, I thought of Daddy Daniel. Still in his hotel room… in the Far East, maybe? Or vacationing in the South of France? Watching me through the cameras I felt certain captured every moment of my degradation and how it aroused me… every movement of the washcloth on my hairless pussy… the wetness it brought gushing from between my legs to join the warm, soapy water… the shameful rehabilitation brought about by my desperate need.

Enjoying me with his eyes, when what would truly rehabilitate me is his hardness, thrusting into me, punishing me and rewarding me at the same time… using me… putting me in my place…

Making a good girl of me.

One of them—Daddy Kwame or Daddy William—put his washcloth between my bottom cheeks to clean the tiny flower Daddy Daniel had opened on his beautiful cock. I tried not to picture it, in its owner’s hand, far away, rigid with dominantdesire as he took his eyes’ fill of me, washed by three daddies who hadn’t given me the sore bottom necessary to get the fucking I so desperately needed.

Daddy Daniel would… he would whip me… he would whip me so hard… and then…

Daddy Kwame, standing behind me, took my breasts in his hands, weighing them, pinching the nipples. I cried out, and suddenly it all just broke loose, all the need and all the sensation and the picture of Daddy Daniel in my mind’s eye, always watching.

My whole body seemed to explode into a shattering orgasm. It crashed over me in waves, each one more intense than the last. My body trembled uncontrollably, my legs threatening to give out as pleasure coursed through every nerve ending. I gripped the shower wall for support, my fingernails scraping against the slick tiles as I fought to remain upright.

Through the haze of ecstasy, I heard the daddies’ voices, their tones a mixture of amusement and stern disapproval.

“Well, well,” Daddy Kwame rumbled, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “Looks like our little slut couldn’t control herself.”

“Indeed,” Daddy William agreed, his cultured accent somehow making the word sound even more condemning. “Such a lack of discipline cannot go unpunished.”

“Mmm,” Daddy Tom hummed thoughtfully. “I think I know just the thing. Remember that trick we used to use in college, William? With the wet towel?”

As they discussed my impending punishment, another wave of pleasure washed over me. My pussy clenched rhythmically, desperate for something to fill it. The thought of being disciplined for my lack of control only heightened my arousal, prolonging the intense orgasm.

“Ah, yes,” William chuckled darkly. “The rat-tail. Excellent suggestion, Tom.”

“Perfect,” Kwame agreed. “We’ll give this naughty girl thirty lashes with the wet towel, then fuck her until she can’t see straight.”

I whimpered as I heard the daddies discussing my punishment. The rat-tail? I didn’t know exactly what that involved, but it sounded painful. And thirty lashes… my bottom clenched involuntarily at the thought.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice shaky in the aftermath of my intense orgasm. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it…”

“Silence,” Daddy Kwame growled. “Bad girls don’t get to make excuses. Now bend over and grab your ankles.”

Trembling, I obeyed, folding my body in half and grasping my ankles. The position left me completely exposed, my still-sensitive pussy and bottom on full display. Water from the shower cascaded down my back and over my upturned ass.

I heard the snap of someone testing a twisted towel against the tiled wall, and then Daddy William’s voice: “Count them out loud, slut. If you miss one, we start over.”

The first lash caught me by surprise. A line of fire bloomed across my bottom, the wet towel stinging far more than I had anticipated. I yelped, nearly losing my grip on my ankles.

“One!” I cried out, remembering just in time to count.

Snap!The second strike landed, crossing over the first.

“Two!”

Snap! Snap! Snap!

By the tenth lash, tears were streaming down my face, mingling with the shower water. My bottom felt like it was on fire, each new lash reigniting the pain of the previous ones. Yet beneath the burning ache, I felt the undeniable heat building between my thighs. My body’s response to the punishment both shamed and excited me, in the way that had become so familiar—and yet I could never seem to actually get used to.

“Eleven!” I sobbed, my voice echoing off the tiled walls.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

As the punishment continued, my mind drifted once again to thoughts of Daddy Daniel. I imagined him watching this scene unfold on some distant screen, his blue eyes dark with desire as he observed my discipline. In my mind’s eye, I could see his hand moving to the bulge in his trousers, palming his hardening cock as he watched the wet towel paint angry red stripes across my upturned bottom.

“Twenty!” I cried out, my legs trembling with the effort of maintaining my position.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

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