Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 61508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“Come on, Amy,” Daddy Kwame urged, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “Show us your obedience.”
I whimpered softly as I stood there, acutely aware of the three pairs of eyes on me. The thought of relieving myself in front of them, knowing that cameras might be capturing every humiliating moment, made my cheeks burn with shame. But beneath that embarrassment, I felt an undeniable thrill of arousal.
Closing my eyes, I tried to relax my muscles. At first, nothing happened. My body seemed to rebel against the very idea of peeing in the shower—something I’d grown up thinking a terribly naughty thing to do—while these powerful men watched. But then I heard Daddy William’s stern voice behind me.
“We’re waiting, Amy. Don’t make us punish you for disobedience.”
The threat in his tone made me shudder. Taking a deep breath, I focused on relaxing. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I felt the first trickle escape. Once it started, I couldn’t stop the flow. The sound of my pee hitting the tiled floor seemed deafeningly loud in the quiet shower room.
As I emptied my bladder, I kept my eyes squeezed shut, unable to look at the daddies. But I could hear their reactions—low murmurs of approval, a chuckle from Daddy Tom.
“Good girl,” Daddy Kwame rumbled, his large hand coming to rest on the small of my back. “Now, let’s show you what happens to girls who pee in the shower.”
I bit my lip, my forehead creasing deeply. It seemed terribly unfair on the level of rational thought, but I had gotten used to the strange logic, and how it somehow worked for me. Daddies got to do whatever they wanted with bad girls, which included punishing them for things the daddies had commanded the bad girls to do.
But Daddy Kwame, Daddy Tom, and Daddy William didn’t punish me. Instead, they put me under a showerhead rushing with warm water, and started to wash me, beginning with my pussy and my bottom.
I let out a little cry at the touch of the washcloth between my legs. I sobbed as Daddy Tom rubbed gently there. This was awful: my bottom wasn’t sore at all… they weren’t going to fuck me, were they?
CHAPTER 18
Amy
Immediately, helplessly, I thought of Daddy Daniel. Still in his hotel room… in the Far East, maybe? Or vacationing in the South of France? Watching me through the cameras I felt certain captured every moment of my degradation and how it aroused me… every movement of the washcloth on my hairless pussy… the wetness it brought gushing from between my legs to join the warm, soapy water… the shameful rehabilitation brought about by my desperate need.
Enjoying me with his eyes, when what would truly rehabilitate me is his hardness, thrusting into me, punishing me and rewarding me at the same time… using me… putting me in my place…
Making a good girl of me.
One of them—Daddy Kwame or Daddy William—put his washcloth between my bottom cheeks to clean the tiny flower Daddy Daniel had opened on his beautiful cock. I tried not to picture it, in its owner’s hand, far away, rigid with dominant desire as he took his eyes’ fill of me, washed by three daddies who hadn’t given me the sore bottom necessary to get the fucking I so desperately needed.
Daddy Daniel would… he would whip me… he would whip me so hard… and then…
Daddy Kwame, standing behind me, took my breasts in his hands, weighing them, pinching the nipples. I cried out, and suddenly it all just broke loose, all the need and all the sensation and the picture of Daddy Daniel in my mind’s eye, always watching.
My whole body seemed to explode into a shattering orgasm. It crashed over me in waves, each one more intense than the last. My body trembled uncontrollably, my legs threatening to give out as pleasure coursed through every nerve ending. I gripped the shower wall for support, my fingernails scraping against the slick tiles as I fought to remain upright.
Through the haze of ecstasy, I heard the daddies’ voices, their tones a mixture of amusement and stern disapproval.
“Well, well,” Daddy Kwame rumbled, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “Looks like our little slut couldn’t control herself.”
“Indeed,” Daddy William agreed, his cultured accent somehow making the word sound even more condemning. “Such a lack of discipline cannot go unpunished.”
“Mmm,” Daddy Tom hummed thoughtfully. “I think I know just the thing. Remember that trick we used to use in college, William? With the wet towel?”
As they discussed my impending punishment, another wave of pleasure washed over me. My pussy clenched rhythmically, desperate for something to fill it. The thought of being disciplined for my lack of control only heightened my arousal, prolonging the intense orgasm.
“Ah, yes,” William chuckled darkly. “The rat-tail. Excellent suggestion, Tom.”