Page 44 of A Bad Girl's Lesson

My backside had become a single mass of burning pain. I felt like I would never be able to walk again, let alone sit down. I lost track of time, of the number of lashes my daddy gave me, of everything.

When Daddy Jacob finally stopped and laid the coiled belt atop my back and said, “We’re done, honey. You’ll stay here for half an hour to think about your lesson,” I just closed my eyes even more tightly. I felt the tears well out of them and join the pool I had made on the table, and I pressed my face into them as if to rub my own nose in my misdeed.

They all left. Ashley kissed me on the cheek before she went.

It took a long time for the pain in my bottom and thighs to let me do anything but cry, and I didn’t regain any sense of time, so when my thoughts receded from the agony a bit and turned to the terrible shame of my punishment, the observing part of my mind took a while to notice.

My daddy whipped me in front of my friend… in front of his friends and colleagues. He whipped me and whipped me and whipped me, because I was a bad girl.

The watching part of me finally started to pay attention. As it did, and something like regular thinking began to return to my head, I also realized that these new thoughts, together with the slight lessening of the agony into a terrible, deep soreness, had bit by bit started to affect me further forward. A different heat, a needy warmth, had sprung up contrary to every expectation, where I had thought a few minutes before I would never feel arousal again—and above all not the kind of arousal that made me long for my daddies’ rigorous sexual use of me.

I am my daddies’ fuck toy, and I put them in danger, so they strapped me down to the fucking table and whipped me until I can’t walk… until I’ll have to stay in bed the next day…

Until I could never disobey them again, no matter what they tell me to do… no matter how shamefully they fuck me, or let their friends fuck me.

I had started to breathe in little puffs through my nose. I realized that my right hand had begun to strain against the cuff that bound it to the leg of the table, as if I wanted to thrust it down between my legs.

As if.Of course I wanted to play with myself: I was a bad, bad girl who needed not just a whipping but also true sexual discipline, strong men’s hard cocks demanding every pleasure my body could afford them.

Desperately, I moved my hips, trying in vain to find something to rub my clit against. I squeezed with my thigh muscles, and it almost helped.

I heard Daddy Jacob’s voice from the door.

“Alright, honey. I’ll let you off the table now, and you can go to bed.”

I turned to look at him, where he stood in the doorway. Had he seen what I was doing? How bad a girl I had just tried to be?

“Daddy,” I said, suddenly coming on a desperate plan. “Daddy… can I… can you…”

Daddy Jacob inclined his head, his brow a little clouded with puzzlement. “Yes, honey?” he asked.

“I know I won’t get my… my underwear,” I said. “But…”

His eyebrows went up. “Yes?” he said again.

“But maybe you can… you know… maybe as a punishment? Me and Ashley?”

He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes told me I would have to ask for it, no matter how embarrassing.

“As part of my punishment?” I tried, in a whisper. “Daddy, would you fuck me and Ashley together now?”

CHAPTER28

Marianne

Daddy Jacob frowned.

“Are you looking for a way to take your mind off your punishment, Marianne?” he asked. “It’s important that you think about what you did, and where it got you.”

“Iam,” I insisted, tears coming to my eyes. “I did, after my whipping. I’m so sorry, Daddy… I… I guess I want it because… because it’s all supposed to be punishment? Even when your beautiful cock makes me feel good?”

I felt like I’d started to lose the thread of the idea, but at the same time I could sense that I had really found an important truth—about me, about my daddies, about why I had ended up here in their firehouse. Daddy Jacob and Daddy Phil had told me that everything here should feel like punishment, and I had thought I understood. After the terrible lesson my bear daddy had just taught me, though, the idea of a program—a life, really—of sexual discipline seemed to have taken on a new urgency.

Daddy Jacob’s lips had curved up a little, probably because I had called his penis beautiful. It had just come out, really. How could I think of my daddy’s manhood any other way?

That little smile made my mind rush forward, looking for some way to make it as clear to him as possible that I didn’t want to distract myself from the soreness of my backside and what it meant. No, I wanted to show my daddies, and Ashley’s daddies, and Ashley, that I had learned my lesson.

“What if…” I started, the idea forming in my mind as I spoke and becoming clearer and more compelling. “What if I wasn’t allowed to come? When you and the other daddies fuck me?”

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