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A Bad Girl’s Lesson by Emily Tilton

As nineteen-year-old Marianne Givens is bound to an examination table in preparation for a humiliatingly intimate inspection, she begins to understand how foolish it was to blackmail a Selecta executive. But it is only when she is handed over to the stern firefighter daddies in whose custody she will serve her sentence that she truly learns how shamefully she will be punished.

With her bare bottom on fire from a paddling and the arousal dripping down her thighs putting her helpless surrender on full display, she can only writhe and beg and come as her virgin body is claimed and ravaged. But a bad girl needs much more than that to truly learn her lesson…



Publisher’s Note: A Bad Girl’s Lesson is the eighth entry in the series The Institute: Bad Girls. The books of this series are stand-alone novels which share the same near-future setting as The Institute Series. A Bad Girl’s Lesson includes spankings, sexual scenes, intense and humiliating punishments, and strong D/s themes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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Author: Emily Tilton

eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$4.95

Length: 62,600 words


“She’s a bad girl, alright,” said Daddy Phil to Daddy Jacob. “I think we need to teach her what bad girls get.”

He reached forward and took hold of my wrists and pulled them towards him without effort. Daddy Jacob pushed harder on my back, and suddenly I was stretched out over the back of the couch, going up on tiptoe in the plastic clogs the guards had given me. Daddy Phil transferred my hands to his left hand and then I felt him reach over my back and grab the hem of the scrubs top, so that he could pull it up and over my head and my arms, blinding me with the pink fabric and adding an extra layer of restraint.

“Couldn’t agree with you more,” I heard Daddy Jacob say behind me. His right hand had left my back when Daddy Phil had stripped my top over my head. Now I felt it take hold of my waistband.

“No…” I wailed, suddenly caught between defiance and pleading. “No… please…”

But the big hand didn’t hesitate. My new daddy pulled my pants down in a single motion, so that they dropped all the way to my feet.

I heard it in my head, as if someone else had started narrating my utter humiliation. Her new daddy pulled her pants down.

Her new daddy.

Oh, hell no. To my horror, I suddenly started to understand—what Daddy Phil had meant about not thinking I understood, anyway. I had something inside me, something I couldn’t fully grasp but which was dismayingly there, not truly unnoticed but rather steadfastly denied. It had just responded to Daddy Jacob’s abrupt, dominant, paternal action, in a terribly unwelcome way.

When my new daddy had pulled my pants down and bared my bottom to teach me a lesson, my pussy, smooth from the nurse’s razor, had clenched hard.

“They sent a cute pink paddle for us to use on this little bottom,” Daddy Jacob told me, his voice sounding muffled by the scrubs that covered my ears. “But sometimes Daddy will just use his hand.”

“Wait!” I cried. “Please… please… Daddy…”

I had said it in that same small voice again. And as if the helpless spasm between my thighs had unleashed a flood of related emotions and sensations, all of them equally shameful, I felt much too keenly how naked my daddies had rendered me, in an instant. I remembered what they had said about taking my clothes away, about making me earn them. I heard my voice trail off into a whimper.

Daddy Jacob put his hand on my ass, covering both cheeks in his strong grip and squeezing firmly. I cried out in shame and alarm. I tried to dance away, out of his grasp, but he just put his other arm across my waist and secured me in place, still holding my whole bottom in his fingers and his palm as if he owned it.

“The nice people who sent you to us, honey, told us that there’s a very important rule of your rehabilitation that we always have to follow. You won’t like it, but it’s going to be true for you until you learn to be an obedient little lady for your daddies.”

He spoke in such a measured tone, and he moved his hand so possessively as he delivered his lesson, that part of me started to pay actual attention. My body’s wayward movements grew calmer, and to my distress I felt my hips start to respond to his rhythm on my backside.

“What?” I sobbed. “What is it… Daddy?”

Daddy Jacob leaned over. I could feel his breath through the fabric over my ear as he murmured it.

“Bad girls only get fucked with a very sore bottom.”