A Bad Girl’s Lesson – The Institute Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
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A sexual relief device.

“Sensor seems to be working,” I heard the doctor say, as if he had somehow traveled a billion miles away. He spoke to the nurse, rather than to me: obviously my feelings on the subject made absolutely no difference. “She just pinged at a seven.”

The nurse turned to me, a dreadful, superior smile on her face.

“You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you, Marianne?” she asked in a voice that seemed to drip with syrup. “You’re very lucky that you’re going to have daddies who know how to keep you in line.”

I lost it, more or less. I started shouting through my gag, my head turning rapidly from side to side as I tried to figure out which of these assholes might pay attention to me—let alone have any mercy, or maybe any inclination to abide by the Hippocratic oath or whatever the fuck bullshit they were supposed to believe in. They had to swear to something like Don’t hurt people, didn’t they, to become doctors and nurses? It seemed like a no-brainer, but I felt like the court had sent me to a room where maniacs did nothing but hurt people.

I shouted all the louder and made myself even hoarser, because of the way my body had responded to the nurse saying the thing about the daddies. Worse—at least it seemed to me—than what had happened when the doctor had said sexual relief device. My pussy had clenched again, and I had felt my hips jerk mortifyingly upward.

I had barely noticed that the doctor’s tablet had chimed again, right when the humiliating clench had occurred. I watched him glance down, apparently completely oblivious to my inarticulate outburst. He had the expression of a healthcare professional who saw and heard young women lose control that way three times a day. He obviously didn’t care at all, as long as they remained strapped down, their compliance assured by the chair’s stout restraints and their body’s availability for examination and experiment guaranteed by their nakedness.

I saw his eyebrows go up, obviously at something on his device rather than my desperate attempts to draw his attention to the fact that he and his nurse were torturing me, rather than taking care of me. Some part of my brain, very slow on the uptake, seemed to think if I could just remind the doctor that really his job consisted of healing people, he would immediately recognize the huge mistake the corporate judicial system had made.

They would unstrap me, give me back my clothes, and send me on my way. I would make a point, for a few days, of not looking in the mirror when getting into or out of the shower so that I wouldn’t notice the smooth state of my pussy. This bizarre, horrible ordeal would fade into memory and then, hopefully, out of it. Maybe I would even consider learning my lesson and not trying to con anyone ever again.

Well, another insane but maybe a little more logical voice in my head added, I’ll never try to con a Selecta executive again, anyway. Lesson kind of learned?

My mind threw all that up as a smokescreen. I wanted desperately to believe in it. The expression on the doctor’s face, though, as he at last looked up at me again, blew the smoke away in a millisecond. I had stopped making my futile, gagged noises, having finally come to the conclusion that my muffled shouts hadn’t persuaded him and his nurse of anything, and no cavalry would soon burst through the door.

“Marianne,” he said, “it won’t do you any good to pretend your sexual arousal pattern isn’t an ideal fit for this kind of program.”

The horrible gag had already forced my mouth much too wide open, but I felt my jaw go slack nevertheless. I couldn’t help it, I tried to say What?! yet again. This time I managed to keep it to the barest of failed “Whs?” before I fell silent, staring at him. I darted a glance at the nurse, in hope that she might show the slightest sign of finding what her boss had just said not to her taste. The smile she wore as she looked at him, as if she couldn’t get enough of his pearls of wisdom, brought a hard crease to my forehead.

The doctor continued, “The sensor Cathy just installed on your perineum is going to tell me everything I need to know. As I just said, I don’t think you deserve to have your deepest fantasies fulfilled, but at least I can see how shameful you’re going to find it.”

“Don’t fight it, dear,” said Nurse Cathy. “You’re going to have to give your daddies their way without talking back and without hesitation. They’ll have the app that lets them see how aroused you are, so there’s no use pretending you’re not a…”


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