A Bad Girl’s Lesson – The Institute Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
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“Bad girls only get fucked with a very sore bottom.”

CHAPTER 7

Jacob

Marianne’s body responded to the words with a deep shudder. Ned and Paul had told me about the effect the “rule”—Selecta made it clear to us daddies that although we should call it a rule when we talked about it with our bad girl it was really more of a guideline—had on their fuck toy Ashley. Seeing the way our own new SRD reacted, though, took the idea to a whole other level.

The trembling that traveled through her limbs seemed to culminate in an even sexier, completely involuntary reaction: Marianne’s hips bucked, and she pressed her ass helplessly into my grasping hand, bending her knees and tilting her backside upwards as much as she could, obviously desperate for more friction from my fingers, and in a different place.

Oh fuck, the part of my mind I sometimes thought of as my daddy-brain said. This bad girl needs it… bad.

But, at the same time, Marianne started to shake her head violently inside the pink fabric of the scrub top Phil had pulled over her head. Softly, but still very clearly despite the cloth barrier between her mouth and my ears, she said, “No… oh, no… no, please.”

Her no’s gave me a moment’s pause as I tried to remember as much of Selecta’s instructions for claiming our fuck toy as I could. Even with her head covered, I could tell from the tone of her pleading that Marianne didn’t really have any idea what she meant to refuse. The guidance from corporate, though, had some very specific recommendations for how Phil and I should go about ensuring that our SRD learn the lessons that would benefit her rehabilitation in both the short and the long-term.

Above all, that meant the correct mixture of pleasure and pain in disciplining her—beginning with understanding the idea of discipline as including both, and making sure that Marianne came to see her entire new life with her daddies as a disciplinary regime. There would be a good deal of traditional bare-bottom punishment, of course, but there would also be a lot of disciplinary fucking, as well as other kinds of compulsory sexual activity.

Starting now, because I remembered, after half a second of recollection, what the instructions had said about a bad girl’s no when she had just had her pants taken down, and had her daddy’s strong hand on her bottom.

One very helpful strategy, when your SRD expects a spanking—and you intend to give her one—for a minor act of misbehavior, involves inspecting her vulva and anal region first, and stimulating her until she comes close to orgasm, before proceeding to the punishment itself.

Looking at Marianne, watching her head shake, hearing her muffled whimpers, and above all feeling the way her delicious little bottom squirmed under my hand, I saw the wisdom in the clinical words. Our gorgeous bad girl wouldn’t have come to us unless she needed not only our hard cocks but also our firm guidance—and, even more, needed to learn about the interconnectedness of the two things, for a girl like her.

Marianne had to start to understand that her daddies got to decide, when the time came for discipline, whether they would whip her, or fuck her, or inspect her between her thighs and her bottom cheeks. To teach her that kind of submission, nothing would be more effective than making certain that her body associated the pleasure we could make her feel with the shame of being utterly available to us and the pain of feeling our strong hands across her naughty backside.

“She’s pretty hot for it,” I told Phil. “We should take a close look down there, shouldn’t we, to see how ready this little pussy is for fucking?”

Marianne

Daddy Jacob accompanied his mortifying words with a movement of his hand, downward and forward. I had longed for that movement, to my distress and my shame. When it happened, though, both the overwhelming rush of pleasure and the terrible rush of shame took me completely by surprise. I cried out at the way my pussy clenched and my face blazed with heat at the very same moment.

“Oh… God,” I sobbed. “No… no… please…”

It was at the tip of my tongue. That word that had seemed so innocent for all this time… the word I hadn’t really ever used, since I could remember anyway, even for my own father, whom I’d just called Dad.

This word… the somehow new word, despite its familiarity… it was so different: it had so much more in it, for reasons I felt somehow both desperate to learn and desperate never to know at all.

I would say it, though… I would use it to beg, unless… unless the man who called himself “Daddy” Jacob did the thing I absolutely needed him to do. Unless he touched me there, where I needed a… a… Daddy, so very much.


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