Page 19 of His Naughty Girl

I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sensory assault. The sting of the spanking, the obscene noises, the lingering arousal between my thighs—it all swirled together in a dizzying maelstrom of sensation.

Devin’s voice cut through my haze of pain and humiliation. “Are you ready to admit it yet, Andrea? Are you ready to accept what you are?”

I shook my head again, but with less conviction than before. Devin spanked me hard, on my right cheek, then on my left, then on my right upper thigh, then on my left, steadily, relentlessly.

Sobbing and burning with shame and pain, I suddenly had an utterly new feeling of detachment, as if the spanking was happening to another girl, a girl who really did need it. The sting of each smack seemed to radiate through my entire body, setting every nerve ending alight. But along with the pain came a strange, warm glow that spread from my punished bottom to my core.

To my astonishment, I realized that despite the pain, it also felt… good. The rhythm of Devin’s palm against my flesh became almost hypnotic. Each blow sent a jolt through me, making me squirm and gasp. But beneath the pain was an undercurrent of that something else I didn’t want to acknowledge—the tingling warmth that rose low in my belly.

I tried desperately to push the idea away yet again.I’m not enjoying this, I told myself fiercely.I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t need this.

But even as I denied it, my body betrayed me. I could feel wetness gathering between my thighs, my nipples hardening against the fabric of my dress. My hips shifted almost imperceptibly, seeking more contact with Devin’s lap.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, a new realization struck me. I didn’t have to admit it to myself at all. Devin had given me no choice. Whether I accepted it or not, whether I wanted it or not, this was happening. I was bent over this man’s knee, being spanked like a naughty child while others watched and took their own pleasure.

The room seemed to tilt and spin around me as this truth sank in. The sounds of Lila and Lydia pleasuring their suitors mingled with the sharp cracks of Devin’s palm against my flesh. The scent of arousal hung heavy in the air, mixing with the lingering aroma of dinner and a faint, incongruous trace of furniture polish.

I became acutely aware of every sensation—the rough fabric of Devin’s trousers against my bare skin, the air on my offered bottom, the way my breasts swayed slightly with each impact. Time seemed to stretch and warp, each moment lasting an eternity yet somehow flying by in a blur.

My mind drifted, separating from the physical sensations. I saw myself as if from a distance—a young woman with tousled blonde hair and tearstained cheeks, draped over the lap of a stern-faced man. Her bottom was a bright cherry red, quivering slightly with each new spank. Her hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically at her sides, her toes curling against the hardwood floor.

Was this really me? How had I ended up here? The girl in my mind’s eye looked so small, so vulnerable. Yet there wassomething in her expression—a mixture of pain, shame, and dawning acceptance—that resonated deep within me.

As the spanking continued, each stinging slap seemed to chip away at my resistance. The pain blurred with the unwelcome pleasure, melting together into an overwhelming tide of sensation that threatened to sweep me away. I felt myself slipping, my defenses crumbling under the relentless onslaught.

“Are you ready to admit it now, Andrea?” Devin asked sharply. “Are you ready to accept what you are?”

I opened my mouth, intending to deny it once more. But something had shifted inside me. The words stuck in my throat, choking me. I gasped for air, tears streaming down my face.

“I… I…” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Smack!Another sharp blow landed on my burning bottom.

“Say it,” Devin commanded.

The room seemed to hold its breath. Even Lila and Lydia paused in their lewd ministrations, all eyes on me. I could feel the weight of their stares, the expectation hanging heavy in the air.

“I’m…” I choked out, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. “I’m the kind of girl who… who needs spanking.”

As soon as the admission left my lips, I felt a strange sense of relief wash over me. It was as if a dam had broken, releasing a flood of emotions I’d been holding back.

“Good girl,” Devin said, his tone softening slightly. “That’s a good girl, Andrea.”

To my dismay, a wave of submissive pride rose in my chest at his praise. I felt a warm glow spread through me, separate fromthe burning in my bottom. Part of me recoiled at this reaction, horrified that I could feel anything positive about this situation. But another part—a part I told myself I didn’t have toreallyacknowledge—basked in the approval.

Devin continued spanking me, but his pace slowed. Each smack was punctuated by words of encouragement.

“That’s it, Andrea. Good girl. You’re learning.”

Smack!

“See how much better it feels to accept what you are?”

Smack!

“You’re doing so well, honey. I’m proud of you.”

As the praise washed over me, my mind began to wander. Unbidden, an image of Dylan rose in my thoughts. I pictured him watching me, his hazel eyes fixed on my reddened bottom. Did he think I was a good girl too? The idea sent a thrill through me, equal parts mortification and excitement.

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