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That the terrifying, excruciating lesson I was about to receive represented only what I had earned. What I had coming to me, and deserved so very badly.
“She put us all in a lot of danger,” said Daddy Ned.
Ashley’s eyes went very wide as she turned to look up into her daddy’s face.
“Don’t worry,” Daddy Paul said. “Everything’s fine. Marianne can tell you the whole story sometime soon, but right now the most important thing is that both of you understand what happens when you misbehave this seriously.”
Ashley swallowed visibly. She met my eyes for a moment, and I had the familiar sensation of seeing my own expression mirrored in my friend’s eyes: she had her lower lip between her teeth, and her brow had creased deeply. Her eyes traveled over to Daddy Jacob, who had moved to the counter, where he picked up his belt and started to wrap it around his fist. I couldn’t keep a cry of fear from my lips at the sight of the dark, doubled leather winding around my daddy’s big, strong hand.
“Do you have to…” Ashley started, her voice trembling a bit. “Do you have to… whip her…veryhard?”
A whimper emerged from my chest: a low whine that went on and on. I struggled against the webbing straps that immobilized me on the table, out of sheer panicky instinct and without even realizing it—I only noticed that my body had tried to move when I felt the sensation of the restraints keeping me exactly where I was, positioned for my daddies’ justice. A thrill of fear traveled up and down my nervous system: tears sprang from my eyes at the same time an even less welcome feeling flared up between my thighs.
“Very hard,” Daddy Jacob said, gravely. “Marianne may need to stay in bed tomorrow, and she isn’t going to sit comfortably for a few days.”
My breath started to come in ragged pants. I writhed again against the straps, this time fully intentionally.
“No… Daddy,” I cried. “Please… please… please… Daddy, you can’t… you can’t,” I begged, all coherence seeming to leave my mind as I looked from Daddy Jacob’s stern face to the equally stern faces of the other daddies.
“It’s a shame,” Daddy Phil said, as if he couldn’t hear me. “We’ll have to put off giving her her underwear, and the little celebration we had planned.”
“Oh, God,” I said, remembering. I had felt so strange and apprehensive about the thought of the daddies using Ashley and me together, but now it seemed like the only thing I wanted. The crazy thought floated into my head that maybe I could give my body to my daddies in the most shameful possible of ways, in order to avoid my whipping. “Please, Daddy… I’ll… I’ll be such a good girl for you all, and for Ashley… I’ll… I’ll suck all your penises until you come, after you put them in Ashley’s pussy… I’ll kiss her bottom-hole to get her ready… I’ll…”
I ran out of degrading things, and I knew even as I babbled them out that of course our daddies had already planned to make us obey every shameful order they could think of—and I knew that our daddies had a lot more skill in thinking of embarrassing things to make bad girls do than I would ever possess.
My eyes had returned to Ashley’s face, and I saw that she had started to cry, too. I didn’t know whether to feel angry or happy about that: on the one hand,Iwas the bad girl who would soon have her backside whipped until she wished she could die, so what right did Ashley have to cry about it; on the other, the sympathy I could see in my friend’s face comforted me a little.
I sensed Daddy Jacob moving again, and I twisted my head to try to see him, desperate to deny that he had begun to walk, his belt wrapped around his strong hand, to his obvious destination behind me and to my left. I couldn’t see him, because of course he had moved precisely that way.
“Can I…” I heard Ashley say. “May I… Daddy, may I…”
I turned my head back to the front, to see that my red-haired friend was looking up at Daddy Ned again.
“What, baby?” Daddy Ned asked.
For a terrible moment, I thought Ashley might be about to ask whether her daddies would allow her to play with herself while she watched me get punished. The notion made my whole body shudder with a mortifying, dark thrill of forbidden arousal. Ashley had another idea, though, thank God.
“May I hold Marianne’s hands while Daddy Jacob whips her?” she asked in a small, pleading voice.
I had a tiny, lingering moment of taboo curiosity, wondering whether in fact Ashley had asked to hold my hands so as to keep herself out of danger of putting her own down between her legs in a moment of weakness, as I paid the horrible price of my misconduct. Then the tears welled up, joining the wetness on my cheekbones and spilling onto the fake leather upholstery of the table.
“Yes, honey,” Daddy Jacob said, his voice seeming to soften a little. “You go ahead and do that.”
Ashley stepped forward and reached out. My daddies had cuffed my wrists to the legs of the table, so she spread her arms a bit as she took them in her own. I looked up into her face, past her ample breasts, bra-less in her nightshirt. To my dismay, despite the fear coursing through my system I felt the need blossom even further between my legs: I didn’t want Ashley just to hold my hands. I wanted her to take off her nightshirt so that I could see her gorgeous breasts, and bury my face in them, kissing and kissing to make her feel good in exchange for her sympathy—or even for her own helpless arousal at the sight of me about to be terribly punished.
“Just look at me,” she said softly. “It will be over soon.”
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, and then I felt Daddy Jacob’s left hand on my back, and I gave a cry of fear because I knew it meant the belt would follow, much too soon.
It did. The leather cracked against my bottom, much harder than any punishment my daddies had given me before. My body bucked as the first tendrils of pain radiated out, and then Daddy Jacob struck again, and again, and again.
I started to scream, and my limbs writhed against the webbing straps. I tried for a moment, as I looked wildly into Ashley’s face, to keep myself still so I could show my daddies that I knew I had done a stupid, dangerous, bad thing, and I knew I needed to be whipped for it.
I couldn’t do it. My body tried all on its own, and utterly in vain, to twist out of the restraints, and I felt Daddy Jacob’s hand on my back press harder to make sure I couldn’t interfere with the belt’s fiery lesson.
I didn’t have any idea how long it took for the struggle to go out of my body, but Daddy Jacob kept whipping me even after that, which he had never done before. I had closed my eyes, but I felt like Ashley’s grip on my hands told me she was still gazing into my face, offering comfort. I could somehow feel that consolation even in the terrible, painful darkness.
Daddy Jacob whipped my bottom, and he whipped my thighs. My screams rang out in the break room, and despite my eyes being shut, I could see, in my mind’s eye, from off in a distant place, my bear daddy delivering his justice, teaching me to be a good girl, and Ashley holding my hands, and the other daddies looking on in grim satisfaction at the comeuppance I had earned.
