by Emily Tilton
If Mary had to guess, Mr. Bonner was making some final decision about how to take his new bed girls’ virginities. It made her bite her lip, and Frankie must have come to something like the same conclusion, for she gave a little whimper to Mary’s left.
When she had first put her hands atop her head it hadn’t seemed like such a big deal, especially since Mr. Bonner had said he didn’t plan to spank them. Mommy and Daddy did that before a punishment, too, as a way of embarrassing them, Mary had always thought, so that they would think about their actions and the position into which those actions had brought them, soon to feel the hard spoon or the awful belt on their bare bottoms.
Now, though, with their owner sitting looking at them, Mary understood more about the posture: about how it raised her little breasts in their modest beige bra; about how it rendered her defenseless and unable to cover up her pussy or her bottom. She suddenly longed to do that, as she watched Mr. Bonner’s eyes go from Frankie’s body to Mary’s, looking her up and down, lingering on the bare place from which Jessa had removed her panties. No panties for Mary, now, and no grownup curls; her new owner could freely contemplate the pleasures to be had in the hairless little slit where he would thrust his hard penis, whenever he chose to do that.
“Come here, girls,” Mr. Bonner said, moving his gaze upward to meet their eyes, his smile broadening a little. “Stand right in front of me so that I can play with your pussies.”
Frankie gave another tiny whimper, her knees bouncing; her mixed feelings seemed clear. Mary’s feelings at that moment weren’t mixed at all; she wanted her owner’s hand down there, and when Mr. Bonner leaned forward and took gentle possession of the place that seemed to burn under his left hand’s touch, she gave a low moan and closed her eyes.
“Good girl,” Mr. Bonner said softly. “Now you, Frankie. See how nice it makes Mary feel? Mary, open your eyes, please.”
Mary obeyed, a little startled at how the simple command affected her. Mommy and Daddy didn’t give that kind of order, did they? They didn’t make Mary watch a man’s eyes fix themselves on her bare pussy as he probed it with his mastering fingers; didn’t make her see his right hand go between her friend’s thighs, see Frankie’s legs quiver as she cried out so submissively, wordlessly inviting the cock there, where no man had yet possessed her.
“Girls,” their owner said, as he continued to make them whimper and sigh, to make them bend their knees to ride his hands as he moved them now teasingly, now urgently over, in, around their virginal pussies, “there are some special things for you on the bed in the master bedroom. In a moment you’re going to go and put them on, and then lie on the bed and wait for me.”
The words drew a series of extra loud whines from Frankie. Mary sucked her lip into a tight line, playing at her resistance, trying to keep her arousal off her face.
“Before you go and do that, though, I want to talk to you a little bit about why I bought you. Do you think you can concentrate on that even while I’m getting you ready for fucking?”
Mary felt her face pucker with the mixture of word and touch, and she couldn’t answer. Frankie’s rough breathing seemed to indicate the same inability. The hand left her; her friend’s cry of frustration must mean that Mr. Bonner had taken away Frankie’s, too.
“Oh, please,” Frankie pleaded. “Sir, please. I promise I can concentrate.” She gave a happy little sigh as Mr. Bonner resumed his caress.
“Mary?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she said, her brow now fully betraying her need. “Please, sir.” She would resist sooner or later, she promised herself. Just not right now.
Her breath caught in her throat as his left hand took her again, forcefully, and then a cry burst from her and she swayed. When Mr. Bonner took the hand away so that he could put his arm around her waist and steady her, the mingled frustration of the departing sensation and joy of his fuller touch nearly made her swoon.
“You girls may put your hands on my shoulders,” he said, then, “as long as you don’t interfere with what I’m doing between your legs.”
“Yes, sir,” Mary breathed, grateful for the help and even more grateful to hold his muscular upper arm in her little hands, though it bent her over and gave him more shameful access to all of her, down there. To be in that same posture with Frankie, too, seemed to magnify the terribly arousing effect, because Mary knew that her friend would have much more trouble with the shame of it: to be in her modest garter belt, bra, and stockings, bent over for her new owner to touch her so lewdly, and to need it… poor Frankie moaned low and long, and that made Mary give a little sob, too, despite her own boldness.
Mr. Bonner seemed to make his touch less insistent, then, as if to allow the girls actually to focus on his words. He looked up at them from the new, much closer angle, his eyes fixed on theirs, no longer wandering to the pussies he had purchased and would so soon possess to the full.
“I mean to take care of you in every way you’ll let me, girls,” he said. His voice sounded so warm that Mary had to bend her knees, trying to push against his fingers, begging him to take care of her that way, right now.
Mr. Bonner chuckled. “Naughty Mary,” he said, “and sweet Frankie.” His fingers moved faster, harder. Frankie and Mary cried out, their lewdly moving hips seeming to enhance one another’s arousal so much that Mary began to think she might faint. It felt so good, so right, to belong to this man, to belong to the same man Frankie did, to be about to…
Her master took his hand away abruptly. He spoke with authority, seemed to make it clear that the time had come, now, at last, for the fucking of two virgins. “Go get into your special things, now, girls,” he said. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
Dazed, feeling very strange down there, all of a sudden, as if her true master’s touch had awoken some feeling that changed the way she walked, Mary followed Frankie to the bedroom. On the bed were two lacy white teddies—Mary blushed, for some reason, even on remembering the name, since it seemed to speak of being her owner’s toy in a very special way.
“He wants us gift-wrapped,” she couldn’t help murmuring to Frankie.
Frankie didn’t answer, because she had reached out to finger something unusual about the lowest part of the teddies. “Oh, no,” she whispered, as she showed Mary that the gusset had a split in it.
Mary didn’t know why she should—as Frankie clearly did—feel even more butterflies in her tummy at the sight of that split, or why her pussy should clench that way. But somehow the thought of wearing something so lacy, that Mr. Bonner didn’t mean to take off her but would instead make her wear while he deflowered her, stirred her terribly in both ways.
“We have to,” Frankie said, her nose twitching a little, very endearingly.
“We’ll look so hot,” Mary said, smiling, then biting her lower lip. “I want to kiss you in that.”
Frankie giggled. “Okay,” she said, and started to take off her bra.
Mary followed suit, her heart feeling much lighter to hear her friend laugh. In a few moments they stood in their naughty, innocent white lingerie, two very expensive presents Mr. Bonner had chosen for himself, wrapped for himself.
“Let’s compare our bottoms,” Mary said mischievously, after they had kissed for a little while. “I think Daddy whipped me much worse than you got from Miss Charlotte.”
“Mary!” Frankie replied. “Mr. Bonner told us to wait on the bed.”
But it turned out that they could get on the bed, on their hands and knees, and look behind them at their bottoms in the mirror over the dresser. Mr. Bonner found them that way when he entered the room, clad in a black bathrobe.
“Stay just like that, girls,” he instructed, coming to stand between them and the mirror. “But turn your faces forward. It’s time.”
Mary closed her eyes as her master’s hands returned, much more urgently than in the living room, to her bottom and her pussy.
Yes, she thought, it’s time.
She heard Mr. Bonner�
��s robe drop to the floor, and then she felt the head of his cock as he rubbed it gently, and then more firmly against her pussy. She gave a little moan, and hung her head, strangely grateful that her master didn’t want to see her face now, but only the part of her he wished to fuck.
The penis left her, and she heard Frankie make a noise almost identical to the one Mary had.
“Who first?” Mr. Bonner asked softly, and then he said, in a sort of dreamlike voice, “Mary, I think.”
She gave a little sob as the cock returned, but only of pleasure, only of need. When he thrust in, and the pain flashed, her cry of momentary pain felt like a grateful tribute to him for making a very big girl of Mary Wood at last.
Epilogue
Paul watched Frankie’s and Mary’s video feeds with a smile on his face and a hard cock in his pants. Occupational hazard of being an Institute assessor.
Mr. Johann Bonner enjoyed himself first in Mary and then in Frankie. He rode hard, and he fondled the bottom of the girl he wasn’t currently fucking, his fingers finding their way lewdly into the slit that allowed him access to his concubines’ most private charms.
The girls, their overall arousal only dipping a little bit when their owner thrust through their virginities for the first time, looked so sweet in those lacy teddies that Paul felt sure Bonner’s choice would start a minor trend among Institute clients. The wardrobe department, as Charlotte called the small group of former concubines who shopped the world for the finest and most arousing lingerie, would certainly use that trend to take a trip to Europe for research purposes, and the results would prove stimulating for all concerned.
They took a shower after that, in the enormous four-headed shower stall of the master bathroom. Once they had all cleaned off, Mary (of course) was the one to suggest that she and Frankie should kneel on towels and clean Bonner’s cock more thoroughly, in their mouths. Bonner found the idea appealing.
He in turn suggested that the girls show him how they had learned from their mommy and daddy to sixty-nine with heads pillowed on one another’s thighs, all underwear (modest or otherwise) now long departed. Adorable pink tongues lapped at newly opened pussies and burning clits. The girls were required to come three times each before Bonner posed them on their backs with knees lifted and spread to fuck each of them again, trying to share his cock as equally as possible.
To Paul’s—and the rest of the Oak Street team’s, since they had gathered round in the control room to watch this denouement—great satisfaction, Bonner at last turned Mary over and then posed Frankie crouching above her, so that he could go thrust by thrust from one pussy to the other. It represented the sort of scene in which the paramount importance of an owner’s pleasure made itself known, and since the Wood girls had their rewards of pleasure several times over already, it clearly felt to them like an act of mastery to which their master had every right: their arousal remained high as he satisfied himself with shooting his semen all over the prettily bruised backsides of both his bed girls.
As the three occupants of the beach house dressed in fuzzy robes to await the catered lobster dinner for which Bonner had called, Paul surveyed the monitors showing current events on Oak Street itself. Redheaded Ginnie Samuels lay awake in her bed, a troubled look on her face and her overall arousal at 6. She probably wouldn’t attempt to play with herself tonight, but now that Wendy had returned and the Wood girls had gone, things might well move very quickly there.
Jim Setter, the Samuels household’s lead assessor, said in Paul’s ear, “I bet Ginnie fetches six million.”
Paul chuckled and turned to Jim. “I won’t argue. You have to admit that ten for Frankie and Mary is pretty good, though.”
Jim smiled. “Definitely. But you’ve seen how Chris Samuels punishes Ginnie, haven’t you? I think that will fetch a premium.”
Paul looked back at his own monitor, at the well-punished, well-fucked Wood girls, currently snuggled in their owner’s arms on the couch, looking out at the ocean. “I’m sure it will,” he said thoughtfully. “But every Oak Street girl is special in her own way, as far as I’m concerned.”
The End
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Other The Institute: Naughty Little Girls Series Books
The Oak Street Method: Wendy
After she is caught loitering and taken into custody by the powerful corporation that all but runs her city, twenty-year-old Wendy Baskin is placed in a special program for wayward young women in need of reform. To ensure she receives the firm correction she needs, Wendy is sent to live with a couple who will act as her strict mommy and daddy during her stay with them.
When she is caught breaking the rules her assigned guardians have set for her, Wendy quickly finds herself blushing crimson as she is given a humiliating chastisement, but the embarrassment of having her bare bottom soundly spanked is nothing compared to the shame she feels when her new mommy and daddy discover that she was deeply aroused by the punishment.
As a result of her wanton behavior, Wendy is stripped naked and thoroughly inspected by her guardians, then informed that she will require the kind of training only the Institute can provide.
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The Oak Street Method: Ginnie
When the corporation that controls her city determines that she requires a very particular form of guidance and correction, eighteen-year-old Ginnie Lyons is placed in the custody of a couple who live on Oak Street. Her new guardians—who she will be made to call mommy and daddy—will have full authority both to punish her as frequently and thoroughly as they feel it necessary and to enjoy her beautiful body in any way they please.
On her very first day in her new home, Ginnie earns herself a painful, embarrassing bare-bottom spanking. To make matters worse, her vulnerable, exposed position makes it impossible to hide her helpless arousal at being chastised in such a humiliating manner. But when she is caught spying on a neighboring couple’s intimate activities, she soon finds herself blushing crimson as she is punished more shamefully than ever before.
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Books of The Institute Series
Bought and Trained
Desperate to be dominated, twenty-five-year-old Rose signs up for a concubine training program and agrees to have her memory of consenting erased, allowing her to experience being forced to explore her fantasies of complete and utter submission.
Leo, a skilled case-agent for the program, captures Rose and puts her through a strict training regimen, in which her body is no longer her own but instead is Leo’s to command. He brings her to the Institute where she meets her training partner, Hannah, and also meets other men who she learns to call ‘master.’ During her time at the Institute, Rose is taught that obedience is not optional and that defiance will result in ever more humiliating punishments.
Once their training is complete, Rose and Hannah are purchased by a master and mistress and are brought back to the couple’s villa in the Caribbean. The girls thrive in their new roles, but when a traumatic experience causes Rose’s memory of her consent to come flooding back, will her realization that she wanted all of this from the beginning bring everything crashing down?
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An Extreme Marriage
When Frank catches Jenny, his prim and proper wife, masturbating while reading about the Institute—a place where husbands learn to spank t
heir naughty wives and thoroughly ravish them in the bedroom—he realizes that something needs to change. The Institute’s training costs a fortune, but he is willing to bet it will be more than worth the price.
Jenny and Frank enter “Extreme Marriage” training at the Institute, but although Jenny craves Frank’s dominance on a very deep level, her bashful ways reveal a sexual guilt taught to her long ago which will require great patience and care to overcome. It takes all of Frank’s willpower to restrain his raging desires as he follows the Institute’s plan and takes control of their marriage.
Frank’s newfound dominance brings Jenny pleasure beyond anything she has ever known, and as the terrible guilt that has been a part of her life for so long slips away, she and Frank find more joy in their marriage than they ever thought possible. But when they leave the Institute and return home, can they keep the passion they ignited there burning hot?
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Breaking Abigail
As eighteen-year-old Abigail Podret pleasures herself in her family’s summer-house, she cries out the name of Mark LeMarchand, the man she secretly loves. She has no idea that he stands steps away, ready to do what she most desires: strip her naked, spank her hard, and take her even harder. But as a result of her stern upbringing, Abigail finds herself unable to give herself to Mark no matter how badly she longs for it.
Mark is determined to help Abigail, and with the assistance of wealthy friends he creates the Institute, a place where women agree to have their memory of consent suppressed by hypnosis in order to free them to enjoy their submission fully. When Mark tells Abigail about the Institute, she realizes it may be her only chance at real happiness.