The doctor’s words, and Daddy John’s answering chuckle, seemed to come from a mile away. The feeling of the straps tightening around my body had sent me somewhere else, and behind my tightly shut eyes I seemed to spin upward, to some vantage point where I could look down on the scene from above—but somehow at the same time everything outside my skin grew muted, and only the world inside me felt present and real.
There, both above myself and deep inside my chest, I understood what the doctor had said, and one part of me—the detached, hovering part—said, He’s going to give the bad girl what she deserves, a spanking right on her naughty pussy. That will teach her.
“Sounds good, Doc,” said the man in the suit. “Do you have a pussy paddle here, or are you going to use your hand?”
“My hand,” the doctor said. “I’m guessing she’ll get the pussy paddle pretty often when you get her where she’s going, though, right?”
Daddy John chuckled. “Seems likely.”
Doctor Bradley picked up the clipper and turned it on again. I hadn’t even realized that he had turned it off to help Daddy John restrain me. The hovering part watched him move it up and down the bad girl’s private parts, watched the golden curls fall away.
I knew that I couldn’t really see the scene that way, especially with my eyes so tightly closed, but my detachment had gotten so complete that I constructed it as a mental picture down to the minutest detail of the buzzing clipper moving back and forth, up and down my labia, clearing away the hair and leaving only stubble.
I heard the doctor cluck his tongue. “Look at her vagina contract. Claudia, honey, I know you’re embarrassed about that, but it’s going to make your training and your new life easier if you admit to your daddies how much you need this.”
The detached part of me had tried for a few seconds to pretend that the other, inside part of me didn’t exist. But although for a tiny moment I told myself that the doctor had lied, the sensation from the clipper’s buzzing, its teasing vibration over my clit, my private lips, my virgin sheath came crashing in. The pure physicality of the shameful clench inside my vagina and the aching need that had driven it took control of my limbs. My hips jerked against the restraint of the webbing belt around my waist, and I had to bite my lip hard to keep from crying out.
“Claudia,” I heard Daddy John say, “the doctor’s right. You’ll have a choice, every day, whether to obey me and your other daddies and get the rewards a good girl gets, or to disobey and learn your lessons a much harder way. When the doc spanks your pussy in a few moments, it won’t feel as nice as the clipper does down there, will it? I want you to make up your mind right now to learn from this experience.”
A sob burst from between my tightly closed lips. I felt the clipper move lower, and I squirmed as it pressed between the sore cheeks Daddy John had spanked so hard. The detached part of me observed from above that the awful pain had faded. To my dismay, that heat seemed now to add to the humiliating arousal forced on me by the clipper, by these men and their mortifying words.
“Oh, God,” my voice said without me consciously willing it. “Not there.”
“Of course there, Claudia,” the doctor said as he sheared away the wayward downy hairs between my butt cheeks.
“We want you completely smooth and bare, sweetheart,” Daddy John added. “I was going to tell you, before you decided to disobey, that the most important reason we take away your grownup hair is that you need to learn that those places don’t belong to you anymore. They belong to your daddies, and we’re going to train them to please us. Being smooth there will remind you about that every day, as well as giving your daddies a good view when we take your panties down.”
I understood from the moment he began this little speech, while the doctor ignored my squirming and cleared away the last of the longer hairs from the valley between the punished globes of my bottom, that Daddy John meant to heighten the conflict inside me. I tried to live in the air, in the detached part of me that somehow looked down from a position near the ceiling.
I realized, though, that despite that view feeling separate from my body it remained terribly connected to it; when Daddy John said that my pussy and my bottom belonged to my daddies, it sent an unwelcome tremor of need through all of me, body and mind, so that I had to push down a whimper. That humiliating sound, though, emerged nevertheless when the blond man said, when we take your panties down. My pussy clenched, hard, at the same time.
“There’s another one,” the doctor said. “She’s just as responsive as the report indicated.”
“What the fuck?” I whispered, opening my eyes and looking at Daddy John, who stood with his eyes fixed between my spread thighs from a few feet away. “What is going on? What is this… program?” I didn’t want to sound desperate, but when my voice came out that way I wondered if maybe I could move them to pity; as he raised his gaze to meet mine, I could see in Daddy John’s face—to my astonishment—a kind of caring I had never expected.
My tummy flipped over, and the problem lower down became even worse.
From somewhere on the other side, I heard the doctor say, “Now the razor. The shaving gel is going to feel a little cool, Claudia.”
My own attention had become absorbed by the expression on Daddy John’s face, the incongruous—as it seemed to me—concern in his eyes. For a moment I wondered if I had a completely incorrect understanding of what this humiliating examination meant.
Self-doubt had never represented a problem for me. When I realized that I understood enough about Selecta’s CP shell to hack it, or at any rate when I persuaded myself I could do it without getting caught, I hadn’t hesitated. I had stopped going to class and I had devoted myself to doing whatever I could to right the wrongs being perpetrated in the Northern Europe energy war.
My classmates at the educational facility would probably have differed in their interpretation of our EF’s motto: Dare to dream. I had not the slightest doubt that my interpretation was correct, however. Dare to dream, as my favorite teacher had told us, meant dreaming of a better future for the world, and doing something about it.
It meant deciding on your own dream, and carrying it out, based on your own understanding of the world’s challenges.
For a moment, looking into the eyes of the man who had called himself my daddy, I wondered if I had made a mistake. Or maybe a few of them.
One possible error in particular came to the forefront of my mind, though my reason turned away in disgust and refused to see the relevance. Daddy John’s blue eyes and his broad shoulders, however, pressed this question past all the others that rose in me at that moment, Maybe the things that come into your head when you think about boys—about men, about sex—are part of who you are. Maybe they have to be part of your dreams.
I had to close my eyes, to block out the sight of Daddy John and the terrible ambiguity of his concerned, caring look… the way it conflicted and yet, somehow, also harmonized with the lewd, humiliating things he did and said. The way those things made my heart race and my tummy flip, and, further down, made my pussy betray me so visibly to the doctor’s gaze.
A little whimper escaped my tightly pursed lips as the doctor’s fingers, covered now I realized in a rubber glove, began to spread something cool over the whole area he had trimmed with the clipper. Daddy John’s voice came from a few feet away, adding to the terribly distracting effect of the rubbing down there, making me whimper again as I remembered what the doctor had promised to do after he had shaved me.
“Claudia, I think this is a good time to tell you a little bit about your new life,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact, as if young women learned every day that they had fallen into a twisted, sexual wormhole in the fabric of civilization.
Between my legs, I felt the doctor start to use the disposable razor, sweeping down precisely along the crease between my thigh and my pussy, leaving me smooth and pink and mortifyingly bare.
“What new life?” I demanded through clenched teeth as I tried to resist the conflicting feelings the razor brought. I opened my eyes, unable to resist the need to see what Daddy John’s expression held, and where he had turned his own gaze. Blood rushed to my cheeks as I saw him looking right back at me, even as the doctor started to shave the virgin slit between my legs.
“The program we’ve put you in falls under the broad heading of Special Rehabilitation for Non-Violent Offenders.”
I bit my lip. That general category, I could imagine, might hold a lot of different kinds of program. They probably didn’t all involve girls getting nude spankings and having their pussies shaved. For a moment I considered objecting to his clear implication that I fell into the group Non-Violent Offenders.
What would the use be, though? I had no intention of blurting out my guilt or anything—say nothing except to your lawyer represented the one ironclad piece of advice the net gave. But I knew they had me dead to rights. Even if I had decided to lie, I didn’t think what they had arrested me in the middle of doing left any doubt as to whether I had committed a very serious crime.
“Your own version of special is a kind of program we usually just call Bad Girls. Like I told you before, it’s designed for girls like you.”
My fists balled at my sides, and I did everything I could to stop it, but the more I tightened my abs against what I felt happening between my legs, it happened anyway. I clenched, and the doctor made a little hmm sound, as if he had stifled the impulse to chuckle. I felt the moisture start at the corners of my eyes as the warmth of my flesh under the razor made the shaving gel seem even cooler. I kept my gaze locked on Daddy John’s, though, daring him to look down at the humiliation he and his doctor friend had inflicted on me.
To my horror, he smiled and then, worse, he did look down, and spent a long moment watching the doctor move the razor between my bottom-cheeks.
“Oh, my fucking God,” I said through gritted teeth. “How…”
But I had nothing else, because my mind wavered between what I had meant to say, How can you do this? and what I truly wanted to say, despite how much of a self-betrayal it seemed, How did you know? My hips bucked against the belt around my waist, and for the first time I experienced—with enough clarity to observe my own reaction—a dismaying feedback loop: I resisted because of how being strapped down made me feel, and that only increased the sensation, and the embarrassing need for… for more.
Daddy John raised his eyes.
“You’re a super smart girl, Claudia,” he said. “But you have a great deal to learn about yourself and about your needs. And that’s in addition to everything we’re going to teach you about what’s actually going on in the world right now.”
Doctor Bradley said, “I’m done here. Claudia, honey, I’m going to get you cleaned up with a washcloth, and then I’m going to punish you just like I said I would. I’m going to spank your vulva with my hand, to teach you to obey your daddies.”
Again I tried to keep my body still, as my heart raced in fear, and again I failed: my lower back jerked, and it made my bottom move against the papered surface of the chair’s seat. I managed to keep from letting out the sob that ballooned in my chest, at the renewal of the soreness left by Daddy John’s hand, biting down hard on my lip until I wanted to yelp in pain rather than sob with mortifying, unwelcome arousal.
At least this time neither the doctor nor Daddy John commented on my body’s traitorous movement. Doctor Bradley applied the washcloth he had run under warm water from the sink, and I had to keep biting my lip to prevent myself from showing on my face how shamefully good it felt, or even moaning as he wiped away the remnants of the shaving gel. Daddy John had lowered his eyes again to watch, as if in anticipation of seeing my pussy smooth and bare and…
The word floated up into my mind, forcing my teeth down even harder into my lip in a vain effort to push it away.
Ready for my daddy. My daddies. Ready for them to punish me there, to teach me my lessons there.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please. I’ll… I’ll do what you tell me to do.”
Daddy John’s eyes rose to meet mine.
“I mean,” I said lamely, raising my voice and hearing how it came croaking weakly out, but still desperate to keep the horrible thing from happening. “I… I won’t like it, but…”
Why had I said that?
“That’s the surprising thing,” Daddy John said very calmly and in a voice clearly intended to reassure me, “for you anyway. Not surprising for me, of course. You will like it, Claudia. And you will obey us. But neither of those things would happen if I asked Doctor Bradley not to give you what you’ve earned. Now look down at your pretty pussy for me.”
I heard the doctor say, “Six spanks, Mr. Pemming?”
I heard Daddy John (last name Pemming, I found my brain noting, absurdly, as if it might give me some leverage over him) say, “Sounds about right to me, Doc.”
I wasn’t looking at either of them, because to my distress I had obeyed Daddy John’s instruction without even thinking about it. I had lifted my head the very little allowed me by the webbing strap around my neck, so that I could see just a little bit of the cleft between my thighs, shamefully sheared of the blonde curls that had been there this morning when my hand had found its way under the waistband of my sweats.
My face went hot when I realized that I could see, in the cream-and-pink notch that crowned my private lips, a hint of the wrinkly hood of my clit. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, trying to drive away from my fingers the sense memory of how I had played with myself, how I had spread the wetness up from the warm tunnel of my untried vagina to make my fingertips slide deliciously around and over the complicated folds at the top of my pussy.
A movement of the doctor’s right hand, in its blue latex glove, made me gasp in fear. Seated on his rolling stool, he raised the long rubber-covered fingers, the blue palm, to the height of his head.
“No!” I cried out. “Please!”
Out of sheer panic, I struggled desperately against the restraints. In the frozen moment before the punishing hand came down to discipline me for precisely that kind of struggle, I felt the feedback loop of arousal much more powerfully than I had yet experienced it. A surge of need electrified my whole body even as the doctor brought his hand down squarely and firmly on my pussy, immobilized as it was despite my squirming.
I heard the slap, and then I felt the agony. I froze completely, except for a yelp of pain. For a moment, all the sexual need seemed to vanish from my body, replaced with the fiery, tyrannical justice of the doctor, of this horrible ‘program.’ Then, even as I watched him raise his gloved hand again, that changed completely. Arousal flooded back into my pussy, and the sob that burst from my chest contained as much helpless desire as it did pitiful begging.
“No,” I choked out, but the doctor’s hand had already begun to descend for a second time, and my no became a cry of fear and pain to accompany the sharp smack of the latex-covered fingers against my mons, my poor little clit, my sensitive inner lips, the hidden entrance of my aching vagina.
I screamed, and now I couldn’t stop struggling. I closed my eyes as I felt the cycle of pain and need happen again, and then the doctor’s hand brought it back a third time. To my horror, the arousal after that spank grew so great that I could feel myself actually gush down there in a way I had never known before.
“Look at that,” the doctor said. “Alpha minus for sure. She’s getting the glove wet.”
“Oh, no,” I wailed. “Please.”
But the next spank sounded wet, and I screamed even louder and more ambiguously.
From somewhere far away I heard Daddy John sniff the air and say, “She’s got a nice fragrance down there, too, doesn’t she?”
“I’d have to agree with that,” Doctor Bradley answered.
He had paused after the fourth spank, and my mind became caught in the question, suddenly so very important, of whether I wanted him to get it over with or whether it helped to have the break between the horrible spanks.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Daddy John said. “I want you to watch Doc give you your last two.”
My face scrunched up so tightly at his words that it hurt. The feeling came as a welcome distraction from my pussy’s somehow simultaneous agony and burning need.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because I say so,” Daddy John replied. The stern words drew a new sob from my throat. “And if you do, I’m going to reward you once the doc has finished disciplining you.”
“Oh, no,” I whispered, but I found his voice had somehow worked its way into my nervous system, and even my muscles. I opened my eyes, feeling my body’s hope for the reward rise inside me, as if to the surface of my skin. I thought I knew what kind of reward he meant, and that shameful knowledge seemed to emerge in the warmth his voice had evoked inside me.
I looked into the doctor’s brown eyes, for he had raised them to make certain I followed my daddy’s command. When he saw that I had obeyed, he looked down again, and raised his hand again.
I whispered, “No… no, please…” but the hand came down with another smack, and the tears sprang from my eyes like a faucet. I bit my lip and whimpered, and kept looking, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Daddy John’s huge hand come into view and reach across my helpless body. As the doctor raised his hand for the final time, I felt my daddy take my left nipple between his thumb and his forefinger, and squeeze it sharply.
My body bucked against the restraints. The final pussy spank came down, and then Daddy John’s other hand seemed instantly to be between my legs. He put two fingers in my virgin sheath, pressed his thumb firmly on my clit, I screamed, and came harder than I had ever come in my life.
“That’s it,” his deep voice said softly, from right next to my ear. I realized in a strange jumble of thoughts and impressions that I had closed my eyes again, and my new daddy must have leaned in very close to me. I felt a strange, dismaying surge of gratitude that he hadn’t spanked me for closing my eyes, and it added somehow to the climax that made me strain harder and harder against the webbing straps around my knees, my waist, my wrists, my neck. “Good girl.”
I let out a sobbing scream at the demeaning words, the demeaning fingers on my nipples, which Daddy John had moved to the other side as if condescending to give my little breasts equal treatment. Startlingly, I came again. I had never even tried to give myself more than one orgasm; even a single climax made me blush so hard, alone in bed, that I always turned over and went to sleep, or got right out of bed.
“There you go,” Doctor Bradley said from down between my legs. “Multi-orgasm from a spanked pussy. That’s what we like to see.”
I felt the humiliation in his voice begin to push me up the slope of another climax, and I squeezed my eyes closed even more tightly, not wanting the pleasure—or rather not wanting to want it—but yielding to it, telling myself that I would surely be spanked again if I didn’t let my daddy do as he pleased to my pussy.
But Daddy John’s hands left me, suddenly, though I still felt his warm breath on my cheek.
“No, sweetheart,” his deep voice said. “No more for right now. You were a reasonably good girl for your pussy spanking, but you need to learn a good deal more before you earn the privilege of coming three times in a row.”
I felt my face crumple, as if Daddy John’s arbitrary decision carried some huge ethical weight—as if earning three orgasms already represented some lofty goal for me, as if I had enlisted myself as an eager trainee in whatever perverted ‘program’ this asshole had inducted me into.
I opened my eyes as I sensed him stepping away from me, and I looked into his face, trying as hard as I could to make my expression defiant. I had the slight satisfaction of watching his evident surprise at my reaction.
“I suppose you’re expecting me to ask what I need to do?” I asked through clenched teeth.
Daddy John’s eyebrows went up, and my tiny moment of triumph vanished into the ether.
“No,” he said mildly. “I’m expecting you to fight me as hard as you can. I’ll admit that it would have been nice to see a little gratitude after your daddy gave you so much pleasure.”
Oh, my God. He had been mocking me. The surprise I had thought I had seen had been a trap, and I had fallen right into it.
“The next thing we’re going to work on,” he continued in the same didactic tone, “is you calling me Daddy. I just want you to think about that for now, Claudia.”
“You can forget that, asshole,” I said, fury rising into my chest.
Down between my legs, the doctor clucked his tongue.
“Should I go ahead with the exam?” he asked.
“Sure, Doc,” Daddy John said. “Claudia, sweetheart, like I said I just want you to think about it right now. I want you to think about what I’m likely to do when I do ask you to address me with the proper respect, and you refuse.”
Tears welled up yet again at the corners of my eyes. I looked from Daddy John to the doctor, and saw that he had put on a strange headband with lights, and picked up a clear plastic thing that I recognized, after a moment of panicked denial, as a speculum.
“No,” I whispered. “Please.”
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