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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“She’s a great girl,” Phil said. “I mean, after she’s finished with her sentence, if I felt like settling down or whatever…” He returned his attention to his book.

I looked back at Marianne on the screen: her restlessness had faded, and she seemed to sleep soundly now. Her arousal had fallen to three. I didn’t mind, because I thought it would help her sleep peacefully. She needed the rest: she would have an exciting morning, if her daddies had anything to say about it.

I turned and started to climb up to my bunk. I didn’t feel like settling down any more than Phil did, but Marianne’s need for a daddy had brought out something important in me that I wanted to pay as much attention to as it deserved. As she deserved.

I set the alarm on my handheld and put it in its nook.

Tomorrow morning, honey, I thought as the tiredness started to take hold of my body. Just wait.

Marianne

In my dream, Daddy Jacob had his enormous penis inside me. It seemed even bigger, and he seemed even more like a bear than he did in real life. He growled at me as he made me ride him, faster and faster, “Bad girl… good girl… bad girl…”

My hips jerked in my dream. Daddy Jacob had his hands on them, but he didn’t have to move me: I did it all by myself, because I couldn’t stop. I needed to ride and ride, as full as his manhood made my poor little pussy.

My wolf daddy stepped in front of me, and he presented his rigid erection to my lips, and I opened for him to thrust inside and use me the way a daddy uses a bad girl.

I cried out and woke myself up, and I found to my mingled dismay and delight that the horrible punishment panties were doing something, down there. Instead of an utter lack of sexual stimulation, I felt a tormenting, too-pleasurable vibration, a noiseless buzzing. My hips really were moving, as if I were riding my daddy’s enormous penis, and as soon as I understood what was happening, the vibration in the fabric seemed to intensify.

I sobbed, and moaned, and understood in an instant what Ashley had experienced the previous night. My daddies had just waited until morning to give me my “reward.”

I tried to put my hands down between my thighs, suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation. Only then did I remember that my wrists remained bound to the bar set in the wall. My hips bucked wildly, riding desperately, trying to somehow change the sensation in hope of making it at least ease a tiny bit, give me a rhythm to follow.

My eyes went wide because as soon as I did that, the vibration did assume a cadence, a pulse. An intense buzzing against my clit gave way to a tiny lull, and then another surge. My hips followed, and I cried out with the rhythm, but that didn’t make it easier, because it made me start to come: a climax that felt like it would rip my body apart.

Again I rattled the chain that tethered me to the wall, sobbing for mercy as much as in gratitude for the orgasm. It went on and on, and somewhere in the midst of it, the memory floated in that my daddies had told me to think about something… to figure something out…

Why I’m chained to the wall. This is why. Daddies chained up bad girls to remind them what they were.

“Good girl,” said Daddy Jacob from behind me.

I cried out in alarm and turned my head back over my shoulder, my backside still moving, squirming, trying to find all the sensation the terrible, wonderful panties could give me. In the dim light, I saw both of my daddies standing there, next to my bed. Neither of them had any clothes on, and both of their huge cocks stood out arrogantly from their muscular laps as they stroked them slowly.

“Keep going, sweetheart,” Daddy Phil said. “You’re going to come ten times now.”

“Oh, God,” I sobbed, as I came for the second time, my back arching and my eyes shamefully fixed on the enormous penises in my daddies’ hands. “I… I… can’t… I just…”

My words trailed off into a cry of helpless, forced pleasure. The panties had changed their rhythm, slightly, and it brought on my third orgasm. I tried to remember what I had read about girls who could have multiple orgasms. It hadn’t seemed like a real thing—especially not for me, when I had thought I probably fell into the part of the female population who couldn’t even have one climax.

I shifted my body, trying to get a better look at my daddies’ rigid cocks, but I had forgotten about the cuffs around my wrists, and when the restraint stopped my motion, I remembered again… I had figured it out… I was the kind of girl who got chained to the wall and forced to orgasm until her body couldn’t accept any more pleasure.


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