Page 7 of His Naughty Girl

As fields gave way to small clusters of houses, I knew we must be getting close. I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt, my breathing shallow and rapid. This was really happening. In just a few minutes, I would step into a world I had never imagined for myself.

The bus slowed as we entered the town proper. I peered out the window, taking in the quaint storefronts and neatly manicuredlawns. Everything looked so… normal. Peaceful, even. It was hard to reconcile this idyllic scene with the strict rules that it seemed governed life here.

Finally, with a hiss of brakes, we pulled up to the curb. “Cato,” the driver called out. Through the window I didn’t see a bus stop. Just a storefront, a window bearing the ominous words in a decal,New Modesty Authority.

On shaky legs, I stood and made my way to the front of the bus. As I stepped down onto the sidewalk, the warm afternoon sun on my face, I took a deep breath.

“Andrea,” a gruff male voice said. I turned to see that Devin Weathers stood a few feet away, dressed in a flannel shirt and faded jeans. He hadn’t looked so big in the profile picture; in person he loomed over me, his muscles subtly bulging under the checked fabric that covered his arms and chest.

I stood frozen, staring up at him. His blue eyes were cool as they assessed me, and I felt terribly revealed under his gaze.

“Y-yes,” I managed to stammer out. “I’m Andrea.”

Mr. Weathers nodded curtly. “I’m your elder now, Andrea. You’ll address me as ‘sir.’”

My face flushed hot with embarrassment. “Yes… sir,” I whispered, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.

“Good girl,” he said.

I felt my tummy lurch as other parts of my body responded to this older man’s praise in a way I refused to think about. I felt my blush get even hotter, and I tried to cover it over with the first words that came into my mind.

“I read the… the house rules… in the app, I mean. So, I… uh… I understand. About… the… the rules, I mean.”

Oh, god. This was horrible. I sounded to myself like Iacceptedthe horrible things I had read.

“Well, I guess those newfangled things are worth something after all,” Mr. Weathers said, the corner of his mouth crooking slightly up. I nodded mutely, not trusting myself to speak. The sign of pleasure vanished as quickly as it had come, though: Mr. Weathers’ expression turned serious.

“Is it true you tried to run away, back in the city, despite being told to stay put?” he asked sternly.

I trembled, considering lying for a brief moment. But Mr. Weathers’ intense gaze made it clear he would tolerate no dishonesty.

“Yes, sir,” I confessed in a whisper, eyes downcast.

Mr. Weathers nodded grimly. “I see. Then I suppose you know you have a lesson coming.”

My tummy clenched at his words, the awful mix of dread and shameful anticipation washing over me. This was really happening. In just a short time, I would be bent over for the first spanking of my life.

I shifted nervously from foot to foot, acutely aware of my helplessness before this stern man who now had authority over me. What would happen next? How soon would my ‘lesson’ be administered? And most pressingly—just how much was it going to hurt?

“We’ll take care of that at home, after dinner,” he said. “I’m parked right around the corner, so you can go ahead and follow me.”

He gave me a final long look, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he might be trying to decide whether I would try again to escape. Then he turned and began to walk down the sidewalk. With a crease in my forehead that felt as deep as the Grand Canyon, I followed him, my legs feeling shaky beneath me.

CHAPTER 4

Dylan

I was halfway through my second cup of coffee, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, when the New Modesty app chimed with a new arrival alert. I almost failed to tap on it: I had to get back out to make sure the robot combine had updated its firmware. Andrea’s picture, though—something about the look in her blue eyes, a spark of ambition, even of defiance—in the thumbnail image that popped up on the alert refused to let me just scroll past.

When I tapped through to Andrea’s profile for a better look, I saw it more clearly.Andrea Jacobsen. My breath caught in my throat a little as I studied her image. She had shoulder-length blonde hair that looked like it would shine like spun gold in the sunlight. But it was those eyes that truly captivated me—deep blue and filled, yes, with a simmering challenge that both intrigued and, frankly, concerned me.

As vice president at Devin Weathers’ automated farm, I had access to the profiles of all the girls in the Weathers household,just as I had access to their bodies from time to time. It was a privilege I tried not to abuse, but something about Andrea compelled me to dig deeper.

I tapped on her profile, eager to learn more about this intriguing newcomer. The standard information was there—age nineteen, height five foot five, weight one hundred twenty-five pounds—but it was the notes section that made my eyebrows rise. There I found a stark message: “To be spanked upon arrival for attempted escape.”

My mouth crooked into a smile as I read those words. I could picture it very clearly, having seen it more than once before when Lila or Lydia had gotten into trouble—the offender bent over Devin’s knee, her bottom bared, her face flushed with shame and the unwelcome arousal so many girls felt when they paid the traditional price of feminine misbehavior.

I set my phone down, my coffee forgotten as I gazed out the window at the sprawling fields beyond. The wheat swayed gently in the breeze, golden waves stretching to the horizon. It was a peaceful scene, its serenity rather different from the stirring I felt inside.

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