Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Your bottom is getting very red,” I observed, pausing briefly to run my hand over the heated flesh. “But I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet. In fact, I want you to understand that this first belt whipping isn’t just a lesson for your language and for wetting your diaper—it’s to punish you for all the stupid, harmful things you’ve done since you decided to become a criminal.”
Louisa
I flinched at his words, startled by how accurately he had nailed my inner thoughts. Every stroke of the belt seemed to make clearer that the fiery pain in my backside didn’t come from my saying fuck, let alone from the unfair thing about wetting my diaper when I didn’t have any choice. No, it really felt like this horrible whipping was about all the terrible decisions that had led me here. Dropping out of college, selling drugs for Charlie, the fake IDs I’d helped create, the lies I’d told my parents about where their money was going.
“What?” I gasped, the words shocking me into momentary stillness.
The belt cracked down again, twice in rapid succession, catching the tender underside of my bottom. I howled in agony, my cheeks clenching and unclenching in a desperate attempt to soothe the pain.
“Use this punishment,” Jax said, his voice unnervingly calm as he continued to whip me, “to think about all the things you’ve done wrong.”
The leather bit into my flesh again and again. To my amazement, I found myself actually doing what he suggested. With each burning stroke, I thought about another bad decision, another step on the path that had led me to this moment—lying naked over the pillows on the bed of a man who made me call him Daddy, being punished like a naughty child.
The drugs I’d sold to that freshman girl who’d ended up in the hospital.
Crack!
The money I’d stolen from my roommate’s purse.
Crack!
The professor I’d tried to seduce for a better grade.
Crack!
The parents who’d sacrificed everything for my education, who I’d abandoned without even a goodbye.
Crack!
Tears streamed down my face, but they weren’t just from the physical pain anymore. For the first time in months, I was facing the truth about what I’d become. I had been spiraling downward, making increasingly destructive choices, hurting everyone around me.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, the words bursting from somewhere deep inside me. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
“I know you are,” Jax said, pausing the belt. His hand came to rest on my burning bottom, the touch surprisingly gentle. “I know how guilty you must feel about how badly you’ve messed up your life.”
I nodded frantically, my face pressed into the bedding, shoulders shaking with sobs.
“It will take you a while to understand,” he continued, his voice softer now, “but part of being my good bad girl is learning how to move on from your mistakes.”
“H-how?” I hiccupped, genuinely wanting to know.
His hand stroked my hair, a gesture so tender it made me cry harder. “By accepting your punishment completely. By surrendering to your daddy. By letting go of who you thought you were and becoming who you’re meant to be.”
The belt resumed its work, but somehow the pain felt different now. Each stroke seemed to be burning away some part of my old self, leaving space for something new to emerge. I stopped fighting, stopped tensing, just let the punishment wash over me like a cleansing fire.
When Jax finally set the belt aside, I was limp and exhausted, my bottom burning like I had sat on glowing coals.
My arousal had seemed to go away as the whipping became so terribly painful, but the moment Jax put his hands on my hips and pulled me toward the foot of the bed, on my knees with my face in the covers, my pussy clenched and I felt myself getting wetter than I’d ever been in my life. The pain in my bottom radiated outward, meeting the heat building between my legs in a confusing whirl of sensation.
I felt Jax spread my knees apart, then start to run the head of his massive cock up and down the shaved furrow of my pussy. The smooth, hot pressure against my newly bare skin made me whimper into the bedding. Without hair to buffer the sensation, every nerve ending seemed hypersensitive, especially where his thickness brushed against my swollen clit.
“I think your bottom is sore enough that you can be fucked,” Jax told me, his voice deep and commanding, “if you ask your daddy nicely.”
I struggled with the idea for a moment, suddenly finding my defiance again. Something about the whipping had changed me, broken down walls I didn’t even know I had, but some last shred of my old self rebelled against the idea of begging this man—my captor, my owner, my daddy—to fuck me.
“No,” I whispered, the word barely audible even to my own ears.