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Shameful Reformation by Emily Tilton

When Grace Franklin is caught shoplifting, the rebellious nineteen-year-old is sent to a small midwestern town to live under the strict guidance and correction of a firm-handed guardian who will not hesitate to bare her bottom and strap her thoroughly for the slightest hint of defiance.

But Grace’s new guardian is tasked with more than just reforming his ward. Over the coming days, her virgin body will be intimately examined in preparation for a suitor’s courtship, and then her future husband will bring her home to claim her in the most shameful ways imaginable.





Publisher’s Note: Shameful Reformation is a stand-alone book in the Shamefully Courted series. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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Author: Emily Tilton

eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$5.99

Length: 71,000 words


“No… please…” I whispered.

“Shh, darlin’,” Cal murmured. “The lesson is just getting started. This little asshole is so sweet and pink and ready for training—just like your foster daddy told me.”

He took his right hand away and I let out a grateful whimper as I felt my cheeks close and cover my untried anus. I heard something from up above me, where his face must be though it seemed at the same time far away; a wet kind of sound. When his fingers came back to my bottom, I understood: he had moistened them in his mouth. He didn’t spread my cheeks this time; I felt his fingers on my pussy, and I cried out in relief, but that grateful noise trailed into a sharper sound of dismay as his thumb, wet with his saliva, pushed up against the tiny bud he had exposed.

I felt myself tighten against the pressure, my whole backside tensing to resist the inward movement of Cal’s invading digit.

“This will only hurt if you try to keep me out, Grace,” he said, raising his voice just a little. “It’s a lesson in submitting to the man in charge of you. If you don’t submit, my thumb is going into your butthole anyway, but it will be painful. If you do submit, though, you’ll start to learn what it means to give yourself to a man, the way you need to.”

I felt my face pucker into a mask of shame and woe. I could feel somehow in the involuntary movements of my brow and my nose how thoroughly conflicted I must look. At least Cal couldn’t see that expression—I took a tiny bit of comfort from that.

Him not seeing my face, though, didn’t make it any easier to deal with the conflict in my mind and my heart and above all my body. My hips jerked and my whole backside squirmed as I tried to keep pulling the tiny ring of my anus closed even as another part of me tried to make me push instead.

I had thought I had already experienced the maximum possible embarrassment, last night over the arm of Jake’s easy chair. Having Cal hold my most intimate places in his strong, skillful hand, though, seemed to make the fires of shame rise higher than my skin could even bear without literal flames licking along its surface—which was what it felt like as I pictured what he must be seeing: the lewd, rhythmic movements of my bottom and my thighs that despite everything I tried couldn’t do anything but appear to him to display my yielding and my submission.

Because they do display that, said an unwelcome but insistent voice in my mind. A gorgeous, good-natured guy took down your panties to teach you a lesson. He’s not even spanking you. All he’s asking…

I cried out, because Cal had started to force his way into my asshole with the moist ball of his thumb. I tightened even more as the pain shot through my lower body. Then, as quickly as the sensation had come, the pressure stopped.

“See, darlin’?” Cal asked, in the same slightly stern tone of voice he had used the moment before. “Let me in.”

The fingers up front, their tips on the hood of my desperately needy clit, gave a little rub, and to my mortification that was all it took. I let out a whining sob, and I arched my back and pushed in the most humiliating possible way. Cal’s thumb entered me, penetrating my bottom hole a full inch.

I gasped at the sensation, and I started to pant between parted lips because I simply hadn’t anticipated what it would feel like to have my anus invaded that way, then held open on a man’s thumb. To my surprise, it didn’t hurt at all: it felt good, though in a terribly shameful way, like the naughtiest, most wrong thing a girl could allow a man to do to her. Part of me thought, wildly, that I should receive a terrible whipping over the arm of Jake’s chair, simply because I had my suitor’s thumb in my ass.

“Good girl,” he said.