Darla got the terrible email on Friday, March 3, 2067.
Dear Miss Hawkins:
Pursuant to statute 57(a)(i)(c) of the Uniform Penal Act of 2045, your correctional action for the misdemeanor to which you pled guilty in absentia 15 February 2067 has been contracted to Selecta Corporation. After an extensive review by our Pertailored™ team, we have determined that your psychological profile presents a perfect fit for our ‘Daddy’s Naughty Little Girl’ unit. Your daddy will arrive at your home the morning of Sunday, March 5, to take you into custody and bring you home with him, where you will spend at least the next six months.
We advise you to consult our website, selectacorrection.com/daddy as soon as possible for information on what to expect and how to prepare.
The email itself wasn’t nearly as terrible, though, as what Darla found when she clicked on the link.
Hi! You’re probably reading this page because you’ll soon be getting a visit from a Selecta correctional officer who will take you into custody and serve as your daddy. We want you to understand your correction as fully as you can before it happens. You’re probably going to be quite nervous, especially if this is your first offense.
Well, it certainly wasn’t Darla’s first offense, but her two prior ones, both for shoplifting—like this one—had been handled by Homenture Corporation. She remembered now seeing an item in a news crawl about the contract being taken away from Homenture. She had paid no attention, of course, because none of that stuff made any difference: the next time she got caught, she would spend more time picking up trash at the mall, whether the guards’ uniforms said Homenture or Selecta.
But, yes, she felt so nervous she was nearly hyperventilating. ‘Daddy’s Naughty Little Girl’? What the fuck did that mean?
Go ahead and watch this video. As embarrassing as you may find it, we think you’ll realize that our Pertailored™ approach has identified you correctly as needing exactly this kind of correction. Pertailored™ is based on a robust, proprietary dataset that none of our competition can match, and so we have no doubt at all that it’s the right program for you.
Heart beating wildly in her chest, Darla clicked on the video’s play button. The blue corporate logo of Selecta—the ‘a’ had a smiley face—gave way to a pink title: ‘Daddy’s Naughty Little Girl: a program for nonviolent offenders.’ Accompanying the title, over a black screen, was a cartoon of a girl with blue eyes and blond pigtails, though she was clearly an adult. The girl turned her head over her shoulder to look at the viewer with a sorrowful expression on her face.
The girl wore nothing but a cloth diaper, and she had put her hand down to her left bottom-cheek, covered in that thick fabric, as if… as if the diaper covered a backside that someone had just spanked.
Darla felt a blush building in her cheeks and rapidly claiming her whole face.
The title faded, and a shot came up of a little girl’s room, complete with pink frills on the pillow shams. A man’s voice, deep and a little stern, said, “We know you want to be a good girl, sweetheart. We know you want to obey the law and have a happy life. Things went wrong in your life, but we’re going to take you back to that place where you felt safe and loved. You’ve been naughty, but from now on you’re going to be daddy’s good little girl.”
A girl with light brown hair, about twenty, came into the room and went to sit on the bed. She wore something very old-fashioned—was it a pinafore, Darla wondered? Is that what that apron-y thing was called? Darla felt her blush grow hotter as she speculated on whether the girl wore a diaper underneath.
A man entered—tall, blond, quite handsome. He wore a nice Oxford shirt and wool slacks, just what Darla’s own father had used to wear to work. He stood in front of the girl, who looked down at her hands in her lap. He spoke, in a voice different from that of the voiceover narration but, like that other voice, very authoritative.
“You know what I have to do, Francie, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, daddy,” the girl said.
Just the words. Just Yes, daddy sent a jolt of shame and fear up Darla’s spine as she watched. She tried desperately not to put herself in Francie’s place in her imagination, but utterly failed.
“You left the house without permission, didn’t you?” The man’s voice had become very stern.
Francie looked up with fear in her eyes. “I’m sorry, daddy! Please, not on the bare!”
Oh, no, Darla thought. Please, no.
“Of course on the bare, honey. You know I have to. This is the second rule you’ve broken this week. I spanked you over your drawers on Monday, but it seems like that didn’t work. Take off everything, right now. You’re going to have a special lesson.”
“No!” Francie wailed. “It’s so… please don’t, daddy. Just a spanking, please?”
“You know as well as I do, Francie, that sometimes only a special lesson will teach you how to behave. Get your dress and underwear off right now, or I’m going to have to use my belt.”
Darla’s gasp burst from her throat. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t happen to her.
“Not the belt, daddy!” Francie cried. “It hurts so much!”
“Then do as I say, honey, and get ready for your special lesson. Naked on the bed, with your bottom up. I’m going to go get the trainer ready.”
The scene froze, with Francie starting to take off her pinafore and her daddy turning away. Darla felt like her curiosity might actually kill her at that moment. What would happen to Francie? What was a special lesson? What kind of a trainer did her daddy mean? Surely not a person—but then, what? She had to almost physically stop herself from trying to puzzle it out, because too many terrible visions began to fill her mind. She took her right wrist in her left hand, nearly unconsciously, and held it fast.
The voiceover returned. “Sweetheart, Selecta does its homework very thoroughly. We know you need exactly what you just saw Francie about to get: her daddy’s firm hand, guiding her and, when necessary, correcting her. Your own daddy will come to get you, very soon now. Here’s what you have to do to get ready.”
The screen faded back to black, and as the voiceover continued, the words appeared there, as bullet points.
“First, make sure to pack clothes and other necessities for a week’s stay. Your daddy will have other clothes for you, too, but if you behave yourself you’ll be allowed to wear your own clothes much of the time. Second, collect your vital papers and bills. You’ll be staying with your daddy for at least six months. He will drive you to your workplace, pick you up, and supervise your day-to-day affairs. Third and finally, prepare yourself to obey your daddy. He is permitted by law to punish you as he sees fit, as long as he does not injure you, and to stimulate you sexually by any means he chooses, though he may not have non-consensual sex with you.”
Special lesson. Oh, God…
The bullet points remained, as the voiceover said, “We feel sure, sweetheart, that someday soon you’ll feel so grateful to your daddy, and to the Selecta Corporation, that you won’t even remember how nervous you are right now. Your daddy will make those butterflies in your tummy fly away, and leave a good little girl behind.”
When the doorbell of her apartment buzzed at nine a.m. on Sunday, Darla, though still in a state of shock over what she had seen in the video, had all her things packed in two suitcases that waited by the door. She pushed the intercom button and said, in a voice that sounded quavery to her own ears, “Hi, I’ll be right down.”
But a voice even deeper than the video voiceovers said, “Stay there, Darla. Buzz me in, please.”
“No,” Darla said desperately into the intercom. “I’ll come down. I’m all ready. You can start your… your daddy business… stuff… when we get to your house, okay?”
“No, I won’t,” said the voice of the man whom Darla realized she had immediately begun to think of as her daddy. “We have some things to go over before I take you home to my house. We’ve already started your correctional program. And by disobeying me you just earned yourself your first spanking. Buzz me in.”
Darla stepped back from the intercom, breathing in ragged pants. She watched her left hand move to the orange button that would unlock the apartment lobby to her daddy. She watched her finger push the button. She heard the distant sound of the buzzer, and the opening and closing of the big door one flight down.
She had the wild thought of calling the police, but she saw in her mind’s eye exactly what would happen. This man—her daddy—would show a badge and a contract, and then he would… spank her even harder. Maybe he would even ask the policemen if they wanted to watch him spank Darla.
A sharp knock on the door. Darla felt like running away, trying to hide in the closet.
“Darla, sweetheart,” the man’s voice said. “Don’t make this worse, please. You know what I can do. You watched the video. I know you did, because when you clicked play it registered in your file. I’m allowed to break down the door if I have to, but I don’t want you to have to pay for that.”
Darla reached out to the doorknob, hardly believing she could turn it, then hardly believing she was turning it. She pulled, and the door opened to reveal a tall, tall man with a broad chest and a chiseled chin. He had short, dark brown hair, and chocolate brown eyes. He wore a black T-shirt and crisp jeans—with a wide, brown leather belt that had a star on its buckle. Something about him screamed military so loudly that Darla found herself taking a step backward.
He smiled, but did not move forward. He had a pink garment bag over his shoulder, Darla noticed now, and a shopping bag in his left hand.
“Hello, Darla,” he said. “I’m Mike Beckwith. I’m going to be your daddy for the next six months at least.”
“Hi,” Darla said, very uncertainly.
“Hi, daddy,” Mike corrected. “You have to call me daddy whenever you speak. It helps you remember that you’re my little girl.”
Darla’s jaw hung slack, then she closed her mouth and swallowed hard. She couldn’t seem to get enough saliva to speak.
“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Mike said. “I’m a very patient daddy, I think you’ll find. Say Hi, daddy whenever you’re ready.”
“Hi, daddy,” Darla finally managed to squeak.
“There,” Mike said. “Perfect. Good girl.”
Oh, no. Those words. Good girl.
“Now let’s go into your living room, Darla. There are some things we have to discuss, and you’re going to have to change your clothes. Then you’ll have your spanking.”
“What?” Darla asked, aghast. “The video said… I mean it said I’d be able to wear my own clothes.”
“When I allow it,” Mike said, dropping his chin a little and looking at her through narrowed eyes. “I’m not going to allow it today. Today you’ll wear your pinafore, and if you’re a good girl for me you’ll wear your own clothes to work in the morning.”
Again Darla’s jaw dropped. Surely there was no possibility she would have to wear to work that thing Francie in the video had worn?
“Like I said, sweetheart, I’m a patient man. But when a girl doesn’t do as she’s told, I give her the guidance she’s looking for. I don’t want to have to make your first spanking harder for you than it needs to be, but I’m starting to think it needs to be more of a real lesson than I’d supposed. Are you going to go to the living room or not?”
“Yes,” Darla whispered.