Page 18 of A Bad Girl's Lesson

I swallowed hard every time I thought about it, and I looked at the clock, and the time seemed to go by at a supernatural rate. I had supposed I could make it pass more slowly—crawl, even—by reading the technical stuff in the office. I had done fine in Language Arts at school, but reading had never really been my thing, in any way, shape, or form.

To my dismay, (but not really, I guess) I got lost in what should have been the dry, boring details of my daddies’ job. Something about knowing that my real, gorgeous daddies had to go out and do the stuff I read about made the memos from Selecta corporate mean more to me than any novel my teachers had made me read. It didn’t seem to matter that I’d only met them yesterday, or even that they had paddled me and used my body so long and so hard for their dominant pleasure.

Whatdidmatter was the other side that I had seen of them, and especially of Daddy Jacob. As I sat there and read about recommended procedures for using firefighting robots to contain and extinguish the kind of raging inferno that I understood my daddies might have to put their lives on the line to fight, I saw Daddy Jacob’s look of care and concern. I felt my face heat up anew, like some kind of bodily echo inside me of the searing heat a firefighter had to know how to survive. I tried not to think about the pleasure my brown-eyed daddy’s hard manhood had brought as he drove it into me, but I kept having to pull my hand away from the place it had drifted to, down between my thighs.

Daddy Jacob had told me about the other thing the surveillance cameras could detect.

“You don’t have permission to masturbate, honey,” he had said, very frankly, as if it were the kind of thing a daddy said to his little girl all the time. “I’m sure you can guess what will happen if you do.”

How can I possibly be horny?I wondered over and over. My butt still hurt from the paddle, and my pussy still felt sore from my daddies’ huge cocks. Walking to the bathroom to pee, or to the kitchen to get lunch, I felt sore down there. Every time I moved in the barely cushioned desk chair, I winced with discomfort.They literally spanked me and fucked me until I could barely sit down,my mind whispered, bringing a deep frown to my face and making me look for something else on the desk or in the office to distract me.

Then I would think of the noises I had heard coming from Ashley’s room, though, and I would have to swallow again, and chew on the inside of my cheek, and look at the clock as I pulled my hand away from my naked lap one more time.

You don’t have permission to masturbate,my daddy had told me. No wiggle room there. My backside wiggled anyway, over the plastic upholstery of the chair, and I let out an involuntary little noise—a very little noise, that went with the little voice I had discovered inside me yesterday, when answering my daddies.

Did Ashley have permission? Is that what she’d been doing?

I glanced at the clock yet again. Somehow it had already gotten to four-thirty. My daddies had told me they would get back to the firehouse at five. An idea for something I could do—that my daddies hadn’t told me I shouldn’t do—came into my head. I knew the moment I thought of it that it wouldn’t matter to my daddies that they hadn’t explicitly forbidden it.

I had just spent nearly a full day naked and alone in an office, though, during which I had answered exactly one telephone call with the prim “Safety Services 6521” that theOffice Assistant Manualspecified and taken a message that Daddy Jacob should call Bob in Human Resources. I neededsomethingto do. Plus, I felt pretty sure I could get away with it, because the sleeping quarters of the firehouse were kept in pitch-black darkness. No surveillance camera would see me.

And Ashley would be fast asleep. I just wanted to see. If I turned one of the little flashlights that sat in a box on an office shelf on for just a moment, and took a look, no one would be the wiser.

Bad girl.I heard the words in my head, and though a small part of me shied away, much more of me welcomed the idea. My daddies had left me alone in that stupid office all day. Everything I had felt and thought from about nine am until about two pm, about how brave Daddy Jacob and Daddy Phil—and Ashley’s daddies, too—had to be, and how skillful, and how even though they had been so strict and so degrading and so dominant with me yesterday, they clearly cared about me… all of that positive emotion seemed to have retreated in the face of my need to knowsomethingabout Ashley’s panties.

I got a flashlight. Made of black metal, its coldness against my fingers seemed to carry a strange, almost electric shock into my nervous system. I felt a crease start on my forehead as I realized why: I had started doing something naughty. My intentions for the thin, oddly heavy thing in my hand were bad girl intentions. My daddies hadn’t specifically told me not to do this, but how could I have any doubt what would happen to my already sore bottom if they figured it out?

I had a good plan, though: I needed to get my dental floss from the little kit of toiletries they’d given me that morning. I had something stuck in my teeth.

You’re such a good liar, said the bad girl part of my mind, approvingly.You’re so smart. They’re big and strong, but they’re not as smart as you are.The fact that I had no idea, really, how I would compare on an IQ test with my new daddies, didn’t matter at all, nor did my recollection that actually they did seem pretty intelligent.

I knew which door was mine and which was Ashley’s, but surely a new girl could get confused, couldn’t she? Especially when her daddies had used her so very thoroughly the previous day, and presumably addled her wits at least a little. It wouldn’t even matter if the firehousehadsurveillance cameras that could see in the dark, because I only needed to pretend I had opened the wrong door.

There you go,said the encouraging voice.Thinking fast, on the fly.

I switched on the flashlight as I entered the sleeping quarters hallway. I closed the door behind me. Three doors: one to the bunkroom where all four daddies had their bunks, one to my room, and one to Ashley’s room. I didn’t know if the hallway had a surveillance camera, but I made a little show of confusion, looking back and forth among the doors before I went to Ashley’s and opened it carefully, trying to do it the way I would if I were pretty sure it was my room but still didn’t want to disturb the occupant if I was wrong.

I shined the flashlight inside, and I had to push down a sobbing gasp as I saw. I had noticed the bar affixed to the wall next to my bed and supposed it must represent some required accommodation for safety. Ashley’s wall had the same bar—her room was identical to mine in every way—but what her daddies clearly used it for didn’t have anything to do with safety.

She lay over on her side, her naked back showing the vertebrae that led down to the strange, thick panties that encased her backside, one knee pulled up. In front of her, she had her hands restrained in stout webbing cuffs, colored the same pink as my paddle. Those cuffs had been secured to the bar beside the bed so that, I instantly understood, Ashley couldn’t reach down to touch herself.

And yet, in the light coming from the heavy little cylinder in my hand, I could see something on the gusset of my fellow SRD’s punishment panties that made me bite my lip. A wet spot. A very big wet spot, the size of an old silver dollar.

CHAPTER12

Marianne

“How was your day, honey?” Daddy Jacob asked.

I did everything I could to keep from my face the confused, incoherent monologue that had run in my head for the past twenty minutes.

Please don’t, Daddy. Please not the punishment panties. Please. Please… please, the punishment panties.

They must have a secret. What’s the secret? What are they? What’s inside them? Why did Ashley say she had adatewith them? Why did Ashley moan?

Why did she have a wet spot down there? Why did she have such abigwet spot down there? What do they do? What do theydodown there?

A huge part of me wanted to smile and say, “Great, Daddy!” I didn’t really even know why, because how could sitting alone and naked in an office represent a great day? I wondered if I actually wanted to fool Daddy Jacob—and Daddy Phil, who stood beside him, in front of the desk which faced the door through which the enormous men in their crisp uniforms had just come. Maybe I just didn’t want to give any sign that I had done anything naughty, or had any naughty thoughts—that would have represented my usual clever bad girl way of handling things, right?

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