by Emily Tilton
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Chapter Four
Bob Dalton spanked his little girl very hard. He had started out his tenure on Oak Street with as many unapologetically dominant urges as the next Institute trainer—he had already liked to spank young women very hard, for example—but something about Renee’s defiance complex, about the way it showed her true vulnerability, really got Bob into what he thought of as an old-fashioned headspace. He spanked Renee hard for her own good: he had done so from her first day in his house and he did so now, hoping to teach her that she could express her independence in more constructive ways than the whatever attitude that frustrated her daddy just as much as it aroused him.
“Six,” Daria said in his ear. Renee wailed, struggling under his left arm, as Bob raised his hand above shoulder height and brought it down with almost full force on the middle of her little bottom, over and over. Satisfied with the brightness of the red he had quickly raised there, Bob moved to Renee’s right cheek. She sobbed as he began to punish her there.
Carol spoke while Bob concentrated on meting out the discipline their little girl had earned. “Are you ready for your inspection, honey?”
“Five,” said Daria.
Renee tried to cover her bottom with her right hand, but Bob grabbed the wrist and held it over her back, in his left hand, easily controlling her wayward hips as he continued to spank her little rear end.
Part of the program devised by the assessors for Renee’s guardians to manage her defiance complex involved arousing her before punishment and then dispelling that arousal with Bob’s hard over-the-knee spanking. In previous disciplinary sessions, Bob had carefully kept that arousal to a minimum, putting her in the corner with her backside still covered, having her bare her bottom for him only when over his lap, then having her pull up her panties before she rose to go to her room.
Renee’s fiery sexuality, covered over with the anger and fear she had learned before its emergence, needed careful husbanding, the assessors had concluded. Now that the time had come to awaken her full submissive urges, the experience of having been aroused without having to admit it even to herself would make her erotic fulfillment much greater—and, more important, it would give her a level of grudging trust that her daddy had her best interests at heart. When today, and over the next few weeks, her mommy and daddy brought her into the new world that awaited her as the concubine of a wealthy man or woman, Renee would learn very quickly to bring out her brat only for her own pleasure and that of her owner. The sexual fulfillment she would soon come to know from submitting to her daddy’s full, dominant response to her defiance would resolve all the inner conflict she felt about her buried need for discipline and her strong-willed, independent nature.
Or so the assessors thought. Bob, like all Institute trainers, managed his little girl’s awakening largely on instinct, and his instinct agreed with the analytical approach of Daria and the rest of the team in the control room at least insofar as spanking Renee hard was concerned: her resistance and her sneering attitude cried out for old-fashioned discipline to teach her the manners she would need to succeed in the world, whether as a submissive concubine or in the career she would choose afterward with the Institute’s help.
Now it was Renee who was doing the crying. Bob shifted to her left bottom-cheek, and began to punish her there, as she shrieked, “Please, Daddy… no… it hurts!”
“Of course it hurts,” Carol said. “You have a lesson to learn. Are you ready for Daddy to look at you?”
“Four,” Daria said. “Bob, I recommend you slow down. She’s close.”
Bob could feel it himself, in the way Renee’s body seemed to relax a little under his arm. He slackened the pace, returning to the middle of her backside.
“I’m ready,” Renee sobbed. “Ow! Daddy… please…”
Bob put his hand on her bottom gently, and Renee started, as if she had expected a spank.
“Five,” came Daria’s voice over the comm-link. “Not much of this.”
Bob sighed inwardly: he would have liked nothing better than to have spent a long while just stroking his little girl’s warm bottom. But Renee’s submissive sexuality was so powerful, had made her run so far away from her own needs, that to help her become the happy little girl providence had meant her to be things had to proceed more slowly, and her defiance had to receive its due.
He made one soft circle with his fingertips, on her right cheek.
“Six.”
Bob lifted his hand, and Renee emitted a soft sob.
“Are you going to hold your nightgown nice and high for me?” Bob asked in a soft voice that rumbled in his chest.
“Yes,” Renee choked out.
“Yes, what?” Carol asked, a little sternly.
“Yes, Daddy.” Softer, almost a whisper.
“Alright, let’s get you up,” Bob said, lifting her from his lap and maneuvering her lithe body in between his thighs. The nightgown slipped down as Renee stood, but with a red face and closed eyes she grabbed at the hem and raised it to her waist.
“Eight,” Daria said in Bob’s ear.
His cock felt as hard as a bar of iron as he looked at his little girl’s pretty pussy. The sparse brown curls that Renee would soon lose as her preparation for sexual service fully began didn’t quite hide the pout of her virgin cleft, or the pink inner lips peeping saucily out as if to invite gentle fingers and then hard penis. As so often, he envied the man who would make a woman of his little girl, but as always he had the consolation that he and Carol would train Renee thoroughly once she had been sold and deflowered.
Daria spoke again. “Something interesting…”
Renee, to Bob’s surprise, whispered, “Is it pretty, Daddy?”
“Yes, honey,” he answered softly, “your pussy is very pretty. When the time comes for a man to have sex with you, he’ll be very lucky to take the virginity of such a lovely girl.”
He glanced up to find that she had opened her eyes again, to look down at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“Nine,” Daria said. “Bob, we’re thinking you should lean in closer. Let her feel your breath there. This is going better than expected.”
Bob wondered what exactly that meant. He could only assume that Renee had manifested more sexual need more quickly than the model had predicted. He didn’t feel much surprise himself, though his little girl’s response to his and Carol’s new approach to discipline gratified him greatly. He wished, as he often did though never as urgently as now, that he could see into Renee’s head. He had trained many submissives as concubines over his years with the Institute, all of them eventually placed happily with masters and mistresses, but he had never had a more difficult time getting into the head and seeing an awakening through a girl’s eyes than he did with Renee—maybe that was the reason he loved her so much.
He turned his lips up from their stern set into a reassuring smile, as his eyes and Renee’s carried on a silent conversation. Then very deliberately, he lowered his gaze and at the same moment leaned forward to get a better look at the coral lips and the tiniest hint of her pink clit, saucily visible, just a bit, within the complicated folds of its hood.
Renee gave a tiny cry, and her inner lips contracted. Could Bob see a hint of shininess there, from her private wetness? He inhaled, and smelled the lovely fragrance of nineteen-year-old virginal pussy, then exhaled with some force, so that Renee would feel his breath.
A whimper. Her thighs trembled.
“Ten. Recalibrating.”
Bob had to work to keep his smile from turning into a self-satisfied grin. Renee, who had an eighteen-month history of sensor data that encompassed multiple spankings and post-spanking trips to her room, had just experienced more arousal than ever previously observed from her biometrics.
“Daddy?” she whispered. “What are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing, honey,” Bob said, and then fell silent so that Carol could finish t
he thought and Renee could look down at him, looking at her.
“Your daddy is inspecting you, Renee,” Carol said. “Just like he said, you have a very pretty pussy, and you have a lovely bottom, too. It’s time for you to take responsibility for what that means, and what your good heart and your beautiful face mean, too. We do know that you have a good heart, or they would never have sent you to us.”
Renee made a sound between a sob and a moan. Bob flicked his eyes up to see that she had closed hers again.
“Careful,” Daria said. “You’re already through to her.”
Bob could have made that judgment himself, but it helped to have confirmation from the assessors. When he and Carol had briefed for this scene, they had assumed they would have to speak more sternly, and indeed do a good deal more spanking, before Renee could break down her whatever attitude and start to understand her needs for the first time. He began to wonder whether the plan needed a fairly drastic alteration. Mommies and daddies on Oak Street, like trainers in the field, had complete discretion to follow their instincts, and Bob’s instinct had begun to tell him he should send things in a different direction.
He lowered his eyes once more, his face only three or four inches away from this little girl’s untried vagina. He took another deep breath, letting the air he expelled from his nostrils stir the sweet pussy curls enticingly. Again Renee let out a wonderful, submissive whimper.
“Bob,” Daria suggested, “you might want…”
But Bob knew exactly how to proceed: something about the length, or maybe the pitch, of Renee’s last noise, and the strength of her lovely, naughty feminine scent, told him that his idea for a deviation from the plan made all the sense in the world.
“I can tell that we’re getting through to you, honey,” he said gently. “I’m not going to spank you any more today.”
Renee took a sharp breath.
“Recalibrator,” Daria said. Bob could hear admiration in her voice. “Model says the chance of her masturbating in her room is ninety-nine plus.”
“I’m sure you’ll sass me again,” Bob continued. “That’s just who you are.”
Renee made a little noise that somehow bridged the vast distance between giggle and sob.
“But I’m also sure that you’re starting to understand that there’s a time and place for your strength and your assertive nature, and then there’s a time and place to respect your elders, and show gratitude for what we’ve done for you.”
He looked up, his face still very near her sweet pussy. Renee opened her eyes again, bit her lip again, a deep crease on her brow. She looked as if she might cry.
“Holding at ten,” Daria said. “Nine, now. Model says send her upstairs.”
Damn the model, Bob thought.
“Do you understand?” he asked her softly. “You’re a lovely young woman, and it will soon be time for someone to take you in hand, and teach you more about your body, about your pussy and your bottom. That’s why you have to take responsibility for your behavior, so that when that person comes along they will find you as pleasing and helpful as you can be, even though you will always be your own woman.”
“Eight.” Daria sounded worried.
Bob lowered his eyes one more time, took one more breath. Renee cried out.
“Nine. Ten. Recalibrator.”
Carol spoke. “Go on upstairs, Renee. Keep your panties down and your nightgown up, and lie down on your bed that way, to help you think about what your daddy said.”
Renee nodded. Bob reached out to take hold of her hips and turned her around, and she started at his touch, letting out a final whimper before she shuffled as fast as she could out of the living room and into the hall. Bob and Carol watched her sweet bottom, still quite pink, disappear up the stairs.
“Well done,” Daria said. “Marvelous job, both of you.”
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Chapter Five
Renee flopped onto her bed, on her tummy, trying as hard as she could not to think about what Daddy had said, and failing utterly. Her bottom still stung a little from the spanking, because Mr. Dalton had spanked her very hard before the inspection, but as it faded more and more, and the funny feeling in front grew, Renee found she couldn’t push it away into whatever this time, as she always had.
Partly that seemed to come from the unexpected way it had felt to have him look at her, and partly it seemed to come from the things he and Mrs. Dalton had said. Both those things, though, to Renee’s distress, had awakened something in her—some response she couldn’t control. Just remembering how she had asked Daddy if her pussy was pretty, and he had said it was, made her shiver and blush lying there on her bed.
Why had she said it? It seemed like the opposite of whatever. But in that moment she had cared so very much about being Daddy’s sweet little girl, with a pretty pussy that he liked to look at, that he might like to…
She gave a little sob as she became so conscious of where her hands were, next to her face, at how the right one seemed to itch to move down the bed and under her body, where the blue nightgown had come to rest just below her breasts. When the hand moved, almost of its own accord, inside the light fabric, to see what it felt like if she just squeezed her left nipple a little, the shockwave that went through her down below made her cry out into her pillow, made her put her left hand under her hips, where Mommy had said she had to keep her panties down, so that she could think about her responsibilities.
Renee hadn’t expected that those responsibilities would include anything about… about a man or a woman who might… what had Daddy said? Take you in hand.
Renee’s pussy clenched, and she… she just… she just did it. She did the thing she had thought about and pushed away, the thing you could never do when you lived on the street because of how vulnerable it would make you—or at least that was what Renee had always told herself, if the funny feeling like an itch had made her consider the possibility.
She touched her clit, bucked her hips against the bed, against her hand. She moved the fingers further down, to the slit Daddy had looked so closely at, that he had breathed on to make her shiver and make her ache with need for the things she never ever thought about.
Now she met that ache with an urgent self-caress. She found her wetness inside her virgin pussy, moved it up to her clit, cried out at the way her own lubrication made the sensation there at her pleasure’s center so much greater.
She… she couldn’t… but she did: she brought her left hand up to her mouth and tasted herself as her cheeks flamed with heat.
Whatever seemed to have gone away. For good? No, not for good… or, well, yes for good, because maybe now Renee could use it when she needed it. Maybe now she could control it.
Her right hand went to her punished bottom. She rubbed where Daddy had put his hand, to spank her and teach her a well-deserved lesson, to rub her gently there once.
Take you in hand. Left hand on her clit, then the fingers in her pussy. Right hand on her bottom, middle finger just touching the tiny hole there, because… well, Renee didn’t know why, but it felt like when a man took you in hand, he would do that. Would Daddy do that?
“Renee?” said Daddy’s voice behind her. “What are you doing?”
Mr. Dalton’s voice seemed to come from beyond the doorway, where her door remained open as was the rule in the Dalton household. Maybe he hadn’t seen. Her pleasure-addled thoughts marshaled themselves in an instant, and she simultaneously pulled her hands away from her pussy and bottom, feeling their neediness call out reproachfully, and turned her head to look, finding Daddy only just entering her bedroom.
Sweet relief washed through her. “Nothing, Daddy,” she said in a voice that sounded fake to her ears, like a parody of a spanked little girl expressing her penitence in the sad voice with which she answered her guardian. “My bottom just hurts.”
Mr. Dalton’s eyes went to Renee’s bottom, where her hand must have brought back some of the fading redne
ss as she had rubbed so frantically. She felt the heat rush again to her face as she remembered touching her little anus and thinking of him, and what he might do. What was happening to her? Where was whatever?
“I’m sorry I had to do that, honey,” Daddy said gently. “I hope you understand that Mommy and I are trying to make sure you’re happy here and when you leave Oak Street.”
He came to stand over her bed, looking now into her face unwaveringly. Renee felt both embarrassed to have her bottom bare in front of his gaze and that she wished he would look at her little cheeks again. A restlessness built in her that came out in soft words that sought for more detail about the things he had said while inspecting her.
“When am I going to leave Oak Street? Am I going to go away in a van, and then come back, like Wendy, and Frankie and Mary, and Ginnie, and…”
As she thought of watching Heather get in the van, of seeing it out the window—the moment her confusing new kind of discipline had started not more than an hour ago—she found she couldn’t say it: the heat in her face grew too much for her, and her eyes dropped… straight to Daddy’s waist, in his sweatpants, and to the place below his waist, where his… his penis must be. She felt her face crumple, and had to push down a sob, and she looked back up into his face.
Daddy didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he didn’t want to show that he had noticed, to spare Renee’s feelings. She felt a surge of gratitude as he smiled steadily back.
“And Heather,” he finished for her gently. “Yes, honey, you are. But not yet.”
“When? And… and…” She couldn’t even say the word where. Anger and frustration welled up: the way Daddy had interrupted her when it felt so good after the spanking to do that, when she had finally managed to overcome her reluctances—the way he wouldn’t tell her anything about what must be something sinister Selecta had done to her friends…
Whatever came back. She felt her face turn hard, as she turned over on her back and pulled her nightgown down. She could see Daddy notice the return of her attitude, his smile turning into a frown. She thought she could even see that part of him wanted to tell her to keep her nightgown raised and her pussy visible, the way Mommy had instructed.