Sophie didn’t know why being over Daddy Justin’s knee should suddenly have such an overwhelming effect on her. Did it have to do with the black canvas bag over her head, keeping her from any idea of what the three enormous men were doing? She thought she could see the tiniest bit of light at the bottom of the hood, but that only seemed to enhance the darkness in front of her eyes. Sounds came muffled and distorted to her ears, too, Daddy Justin’s voice somehow seeming becoming sinister even as he treated her like a naughty little girl.
It sent her deep inside herself, where she didn’t want to go. It intensified the sensation of his hand, rubbing, of his left arm and his right leg, holding her helpless. Of Daddy James’ huge hands around her wrists, in front of her; his grip on her somehow making her think, in the darkness, of how the handlebars of his motorcycle must feel, when he rode fast down the highway.
She heard Daddy Owen’s voice. He must have taken a position just to Daddy Justin’s right, so that he could look down at Sophie’s naked bottom as Daddy Justin got ready to punish her for attacking Vicky.
“That little butt needs a really sound spanking, I would say,” her brown-haired daddy said. “But you can see from how pink it is that she’s really sore from the strap. You’re definitely doing the right thing to put her across your knee, though, Daddy Justin. Seems like she didn’t learn her lesson even when she got whipped naked in front of all the other girls. Something more is needed.”
“The plug didn’t help, either, though,” Daddy James commented from the other side of Daddy Justin. Sophie pictured his stern, blond-bearded face, always the most severe of the three.
“Well,” said Daddy Justin, “I’m not completely sure of that. The plug definitely got her ready for what she’s going to get in a little while.”
Sophie couldn’t suppress a little cry of alarm at those words, though she bit back the What? that tried to escape via her tongue.
Daddy Justin shifted his right leg, loosening its pressure on her thighs. At first Sophie didn’t understand—she thought he might actually be about to let her up again, doubtless for something awful, like the promised what she’s going to get in a little while. But when she struggled and moved her limbs in an attempt to clamber off his lap, he clucked his tongue, and then he put his right hand down between her knees, to part them six inches or so.
His leg clamped down again, so that Sophie lay with her pussy exposed over her daddy’s knee, now. She felt a blush come to her face hotter than anything she had felt since that day in the city when she had run away from the boy in the alley. She still didn’t understand it: she had been over her BGF daddies’ laps so many times before, but it hadn’t felt like this: so shameful and so… warm.
Daddy Justin made it even worse, though, then, because he pulled apart the sore cheeks of her bottom, too—the ones he had rubbed so gently just a moment before. Sophie felt the warm air of this terrifying room moving against her anus, itself still sore from the punishment plug.
“Yeah,” said Daddy Owen. “Look at that little bottom-hole. I think at least the plug let our girl know that it’s time.”
Time? Sophie bit her lip, her heart quailing. At least her daddies couldn’t see her face, but… did the hood somehow make her feel emotions she would have kept out of her expressions, otherwise?
“Sophie, honey,” said Daddy Justin, “you’re down here because you were a very bad girl. You’re over my knee because this has always been the best way to teach a bad girl to respect her daddy. Today you’ve shown us, though, that you need a special kind of discipline. We call this kind of lesson breaking because when you leave this room you won’t have any of that bad-girl rebellion left. This pussy and this bottom will belong to your daddies once and for all, and we’ll give them to whoever we want, and enjoy them however we please.”
Sophie couldn’t keep herself from letting out a “But—” then, though she knew the outburst would let her daddies know they had gotten to her. The blushing part of her cried out its shameful need once again, the aching warmth between her thighs intensified terribly by the hood, the position over Daddy Justin’s knee, and above all the knowledge of all three men’s eyes gazing intently on her pouting pussy and her wrinkly anus. Her tough, rational mind did its best to force that treasonous arousal down, but the price, she supposed was that the But had come out.
She expected to get the usual little lecture on how they wouldn’t fuck her until she begged for it, and how they were so sure now that she would indeed beg for it, here in the breaking room. Sophie didn’t feel certain that she disagreed, at the moment. She almost decided right then to tell the daddies to get it over with: mouth, pussy, bottom, all three of them, ASAP—especially if it meant they would let her leave with her backside basically intact. They could talk about the whole whoever we want and however we please later.
Daddy Justin didn’t respond that way, this time. What he did do made Sophie see her position over his knee in an entirely new light.
“Hold her, James,” he said, and then, as the blond daddy tightened his grip on Sophie’s wrists, Daddy Justin, with his left hand parting the halves of her bottom and his middle two fingertips pressing firmly against her anus, started to spank Sophie’s pussy.
She screamed inside the hood, and she writhed desperately trying to get away from the huge hand that came down so hard. It stung like a nest of wasps held between her legs, and the pain seemed double because of her position over her daddy’s knee, held securely for a spanking so shameful she had never even imagined it possible. Between Daddy Justin and Daddy James, Sophie quickly realized that even if her muscles hadn’t been tired from all her previous attempts to get away, she wouldn’t have stood a chance of escape.
The punishing hand came down over and over. Those strong fingers spanked Sophie, it suddenly seemed to her, right where a bad girl’s badness started.
Suddenly, without warning, the same floating feeling that had come to her in the cafeteria overwhelmed her, but even more strongly. Somehow she felt absolutely inside her body and absolutely outside of it.
The hood again, but…
But the feeling had much more to it: the hood, her spread legs, her daddies’ hands, her pussy, aching and set aflame.
Needs and deeds: the things she had done on the street… then to Vicky. Punches and slaps and words meant to cut.
All to stop herself from feeling this. From understanding that she needed something so very, very shameful… so dirty… so weak. To want pleasure so badly, and to know that pleasure would only come from giving up control to someone else. How could it not have made her into a bad girl, a tough girl, a dirty bitch?
Sophie found that she had started to struggle again, but not in any way that might free her or even get away from Daddy Justin’s spanking hand. No: her body wanted to feel helpless, and her pussy wanted to offer itself even more.
Then she heard a word coming from her mouth, softly, inside the hood. She hoped desperately that the men punishing her, breaking her, couldn’t hear it, but with each utterance and with each terrible spank of Daddy Justin’s hand to her poor bare pussy, Sophie realized the word got louder.
“Daddy… Daddy… Daddy… oh, no… Daddy… Daddy… please, Daddy.”
The whisper had become a sob, and now two words kept coming, over and over: “Please, Daddy… please, Daddy… please, Daddy?”
Had Daddy Justin stopped spanking her pussy quite as hard? Did his hand come down almost gently, now?
She felt her eyes go wide inside the hood as she finally, truly heard what her voice had been saying. Her daddies… they had broken her, hadn’t they? She had said, please, Daddy, and her body had meant, Please, Daddy, do whatever you want.
She had to take it back, didn’t she? Or else they would…
They started to move her around, then. Daddy James let go of her wrists, suddenly, and Daddy Justin opened his thighs. Sophie felt like her body had become a mass of Sophie-shaped jelly as they repositioned her so skillfully that she hardly had time to wonder what they meant to do before she found herself in the posture her daddies had chosen.
They put her over the metal folding chair where Daddy Justin had sat to spank her pussy. Sophie’s hooded head, arms, and chest hung down over back of the chair, and her waist pressed against its top. Her hands gripped the curved front edge of the seat, when one of the daddies positioned them there. They spread her feet and placed them on either side of the chair’s back legs, and then they moved her hands again, to its front legs, making her bend over further.
Sophie sobbed as she felt how her spread feet and her bent posture opened her. She heard belts, zippers, and falling fabric.
I have to take it back, she thought desperately. I have to take back the Please, Daddy.
She let go of the chair legs, and started to straighten up.
“No,” Daddy Justin said. Just that, in a tone of thunder. Sophie trembled, bent down again, took hold of the cold metal tubes that supported the chair where she had just had her pussy spanked.
“Should I tie her?” Daddy James asked.
Oh, God. Please…
“No,” Daddy Justin said in a very different way—thoughtful and collegial, not the way a bad girl got spoken to. “She’s going to stay that way on her own while we fuck her.”
There. He had said it.
“Look how wet that pussy is,” Daddy Owen said. “Sophie, honey, it’s time to ask for what you need. You have a sore bottom, and a sore anus, and a sore pussy. Go ahead and ask your daddies to fuck you, and you’ll get your wish. We’re naked now, and our cocks are hard and ready for your pussy and your ass.”
Sophie gasped as she saw something inside herself that she had managed to avoid beholding for a very long time—something she would never have seen anywhere else, she supposed, than here in this terrible room under the Bad Girls Facility. She needed fucking, and she wanted fucking, but she never wanted to have to ask for fucking.
In this moment, she had to…
Oh, God. Daddy Justin was right. Sophie Clarke had to forgive herself for her needs and for the deeds they had brought about.
Her daddies had gotten her to this point: a place where she could see precisely what she wanted most, and couldn’t ask for. She had even hoped that her involuntary Please, Daddies over Daddy Justin’s lap would do it: she had thought that maybe when she tried to take it back, in a final gesture of toughness, they would fuck her anyway.
They hadn’t: they could put her over the chair where she had gone over her daddy’s knee, with her hooded head down and her legs humiliatingly spread to show them her shaven cunt glistening with helpless arousal, but they couldn’t give her what she truly needed unless she herself could ask for it.
All of it: not just one cock inside her pussy, the way most girls it seemed could find contentment. Not even just the dark, dirty things the regular girls of BGF got from their daddies. No—Sophie needed so much more. To ask her daddies to put their cocks in her now meant—Daddy Justin had said it—being used, being shared, being given everything she had coming to her.
She closed her eyes tightly inside the hood, wanting to shut out even the exterior darkness, so that what she said next might feel like it had happened inside her.
“Please fuck me, Daddy,” she said into that darkness, inside and out.
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