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)
“Perfect,” Kwame agreed. “We’ll give this naughty girl thirty lashes with the wet towel, then fuck her until she can’t see straight.”
I whimpered as I heard the daddies discussing my punishment. The rat-tail? I didn’t know exactly what that involved, but it sounded painful. And thirty lashes… my bottom clenched involuntarily at the thought.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice shaky in the aftermath of my intense orgasm. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it…”
“Silence,” Daddy Kwame growled. “Bad girls don’t get to make excuses. Now bend over and grab your ankles.”
Trembling, I obeyed, folding my body in half and grasping my ankles. The position left me completely exposed, my still-sensitive pussy and bottom on full display. Water from the shower cascaded down my back and over my upturned ass.
I heard the snap of someone testing a twisted towel against the tiled wall, and then Daddy William’s voice: “Count them out loud, slut. If you miss one, we start over.”
The first lash caught me by surprise. A line of fire bloomed across my bottom, the wet towel stinging far more than I had anticipated. I yelped, nearly losing my grip on my ankles.
“One!” I cried out, remembering just in time to count.
Snap! The second strike landed, crossing over the first.
“Two!”
Snap! Snap! Snap!
By the tenth lash, tears were streaming down my face, mingling with the shower water. My bottom felt like it was on fire, each new lash reigniting the pain of the previous ones. Yet beneath the burning ache, I felt the undeniable heat building between my thighs. My body’s response to the punishment both shamed and excited me, in the way that had become so familiar—and yet I could never seem to actually get used to.
“Eleven!” I sobbed, my voice echoing off the tiled walls.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
As the punishment continued, my mind drifted once again to thoughts of Daddy Daniel. I imagined him watching this scene unfold on some distant screen, his blue eyes dark with desire as he observed my discipline. In my mind’s eye, I could see his hand moving to the bulge in his trousers, palming his hardening cock as he watched the wet towel paint angry red stripes across my upturned bottom.
“Twenty!” I cried out, my legs trembling with the effort of maintaining my position.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
The final ten lashes seemed to blur together, each one more intense than the last. By the time I sobbed, “Thirty!”, I was a quivering mess. My bottom felt raw and swollen, throbbing in time with my racing heart.
“Stand up and turn around,” Daddy Kwame commanded.
On shaky legs, I obeyed, turning to face the three daddies. Their eyes traveled over my body, taking in my flushed skin, tearstained cheeks, and wild eyes. The satisfied smiles on their faces, and the hardness of the jutting cocks they each stroked as they looked me over, made my tummy flip.
Daddy Tom moved to the wall of the shower room, his muscular form glistening with water droplets. He grasped one of the movable shower benches, the white plastic seat gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. He pulled it away from the wall, the metal legs scraping against the tile floor. The sound echoed off the damp walls as he positioned the bench in the center of the steamy room.
Daddy William’s hand closed around my upper arm, his grip firm but not painful. “Over you go, little slut,” he murmured, guiding me toward the bench. I whimpered as he bent me over the smooth plastic surface, the material chilly against my overheated skin. My thoroughly punished bottom burned as the muscles there tensed with the new posture Daddy William had imposed.
“Spread those legs nice and wide,” Daddy Tom instructed, his voice husky with arousal. I obeyed, planting my feet on either side of the bench’s metal legs. Again I felt the shameful, thrilling exposure, the helpless display of my aching pussy. I could feel the lingering steam from the shower moving over my back, rivulets of sweat running down the cleft of my ass and between my spread thighs.
Daddy Kwame moved to stand in front of me, his impressive cock mere inches from my face. He didn’t even have to command me; I opened my mouth, my tongue darting eagerly out to lick the bead of pre-cum from the tip of his massive manhood.
As I lapped at Daddy Kwame dark-skinned cock, I felt hands on my hips—Daddy William positioning himself behind me. The blunt head of his shaft pressed against my entrance, teasing me with the promise of fullness. Daddy Tom’s fingers tangled in my hair, tugging my head back slightly as he prepared to claim my mouth once Daddy Kwame was finished.
The air was thick with steam and the heady scent of arousal. Droplets of water clung to my flushed skin, trailing down my curves in rivulets. The plastic of the bench pressed firmly against my breasts. I felt the heat radiate from my thoroughly punished bottom so intensely that I wondered if the daddies could see it, if it made the air around my backside hazy.