Chapter 22
J ax
A ripple of appreciative murmurs ran through the crowd. I did my best to assess the mood, all my senses on high alert, trying to perceive the slightest shift away from lust and toward wariness.
“Relax,” said Esme’s voice in my ear, speaking through the invisible comm implanted in my jawbone. “The cameras are giving us full biometrics on every one of these perps. You folks don’t trust your assessors as much as you should.”
I tapped my jaw twice to acknowledge, not sure whether to take Esme’s reassurance as standard assessors’ bravado or gospel fact.
It was true that trainers like me sometimes overestimated our ability to read a young woman’s body language.
Occasionally, yes, assessment could figure things out from arcane parameters like skin galvanics long before I could sense a shift in a girl’s attitude coming.
When it came to men, though?
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Esme. “You’re thinking that because you’re a man and I’m a woman, there’s no way I know more about what these criminals are thinking than you do.”
I had to keep the smile from my face. I tapped my jawbone again, then rested my hand on Louisa’s shoulder, feeling a shudder go through her—one that I didn’t need Esme to tell me mingled fear and excitement.
I had given the crowd a few moments to settle down, letting the suspense build a little. The contrast between the cotton fabric of Louisa’s schoolgirl blouse and the soft skin of her neck threatened to derail my analytical train of thought.
“I promise you one thing, though,” Esme said. “The testosterone in this room suggests very strongly that these men aren’t going to be thinking about anything but fucking until the police have them all in plastic cuffs.”
I let my smile go on that one, beaming around the room at the assembled lowlifes, because it was time to put things in full motion.
“Gentlemen,” I announced, letting my voice carry to every corner of the room, “these bad girls are here tonight to perform community service for all of you.”
Laughter erupted across the room, deep male chuckles and a few crude comments that made Louisa tremble slightly beneath my hand.
“As you can see,” I continued when the laughter subsided, “they’re positioned for your convenience.
Each one has been thoroughly trained to understand that they must obey every man who chooses to use them tonight.
” I paused, scanning the eager faces. “However, there is just one rule you need to follow.”
The men leaned forward, their expressions hungry as they waited for me to continue. I could sense their anticipation, the almost palpable desire filling the room.
“But first,” I said, gently guiding Louisa forward, “let me introduce my own special bad girl. This is Little Lulu, who’s been under my personal training program.”
Louisa stood trembling beside me, her eyes downcast as dozens of predatory gazes raked over her body. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the subtle tension in her muscles as she fought to control her breathing.
“Little Lulu,” I said, moving the microphone close to her lips, “why don’t you tell these gentlemen what the most important rule is?”
Louisa
For a moment I couldn’t think. I had no idea what Jax meant and I felt certain I had ruined everything. My heart rate skyrocketed and I felt my face turn bright red.
Then I remembered, with an even hotter blush, so that my cheeks felt like how I imagined the surface of the sun. I whispered into the mic, “Bad girls only get fucked with a sore bottom.” The crowd laughed, a deep rumble of masculine appreciation that made my skin prickle with goosebumps.
Jax nodded approvingly and gestured toward the center of the hall. “Gentlemen, as Little Lulu has so eloquently reminded us, these girls require proper preparation before use. You’ll find everything you need at the discipline table.”
All eyes turned to a long mahogany table in the midst of the hall, laden with an assortment of implements that made my heart jump—wooden paddles in various sizes, leather straps laid in neat rows, slender canes with crooked ends like something from a Victorian novel.
“Please,” Jax continued, “explore the possibilities. Each girl must receive at least ten strokes before being used. This ensures they’ll be properly receptive to your attentions.”
The men surged toward the table, eager hands reaching for the implements of punishment.
I watched in horrified fascination as they selected their weapons, testing the weight and flexibility with practiced movements that suggested this wasn’t their first time administering such discipline, or maybe just indicated how urgently they’d always wanted to give it a try.
Jax squeezed my shoulder and gestured for Oscar and Viktor to join us onstage. That’s when I noticed something that made my blood run cold—a padded bench identical to the ones in the main hall, positioned center stage. It could only be meant for me.
As the first cries began to fill the hall, along with the crack and thwack of leather and wood meeting tender flesh, Oscar and Viktor stepped close to Jax, their voices dropping to a confidential murmur.
I stood perfectly still, straining to hear their words over the growing cacophony of pain and pleasure.
“Our men are in position,” Oscar said, his voice barely audible. “The guys marked for elimination are all here, as promised.”
Viktor nodded, his cold eyes sweeping the room. “The moment you give the signal, they will be taken care of. Permanently.”
I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was exactly what Jax had warned me about—the moment when everything would change. I forced myself to remain outwardly calm, though inside I was screaming.
Jax nodded almost imperceptibly. “Good. We’ll proceed as planned. But first…” His hand moved to the small of my back, guiding me toward the waiting bench. “I believe our guests expect a proper demonstration.”
Oscar’s lips curved into a predatory smile as he reached for the buttons of my blouse. “Indeed they do. Shall we show them how a true professional disciplines a bad girl?”
I trembled as Viktor’s massive hands joined Oscar’s, their fingers working quickly to remove my clothing. The blouse fell away, followed by my skirt, leaving me standing before the assembled crowd in nothing but my training bra, special panties, knee socks, and collar.
Jax guided me to the bench and pressed me down over it.
His large hands positioned my body exactly as he wanted it, spreading my legs slightly and securing leather restraints around my wrists and ankles.
My chest pressed against the cool leather as my bottom was positioned high, facing the crowd of leering men.
I couldn’t see them anymore, but I could feel their hungry stares burning into my exposed flesh.
“Gentlemen,” Jax called out, his voice carrying over the growing sounds of punishment and pleasure filling the hall. “As you begin to enjoy your evening’s entertainment, allow me to demonstrate the proper preparation of a bad girl, in case any of you are in doubt.”
I felt his fingers at the waistband of my special panties, playing with the delicate fabric. My face burned with humiliation as he addressed the crowd.
“These special panties are designed specifically for bad girls who need regular reminders of who controls their most intimate areas. Note the pearl button closure in the back—only Daddy can open it. Only Daddy can decide when she may use the bathroom, and when she may be touched.” He paused, letting his words sink in.
“And only Daddy can decide when she will be punished.”
Behind me, the sounds from the hall intensified—sharp cracks of leather on flesh, feminine cries of pain mingling with masculine grunts of approval.
Then came new sounds—deeper groans of male pleasure and the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh as the men began to claim their prizes.
I heard a girl’s voice rise in a high-pitched wail, not entirely of pain, as someone penetrated her roughly.
“You see,” Jax continued, his fingers moving to the pearl button, “once her bottom is properly warmed, she’ll accept anything her daddies wish to do to her.
I’m going to take down my Little Lulu’s special panties for her punishment, but before you fuck her I’ll raise them, of course, and open the button, to make sure she understands her responsibilities to her daddy and his friends. ”
Cool air brushed against my bare pussy as my daddy slowly lowered my panties, exposing my bottom and pussy to the appreciative murmurs of Oscar, Viktor, and whoever else might be watching from the hall.
I heard the swish of leather through the air before I felt the first impact of the paddle. It landed with a meaty thwack across the fullest part of my bottom, spreading a bloom of warmth rather than sharp pain. I gasped nonetheless, my body jerking slightly against the restraints.
“You’ll notice,” Jax explained as he delivered another carefully measured stroke, “I’m using moderate force. The goal isn’t to break her, but to prepare her.”
The paddle fell again and again, each stroke precisely placed to gradually warm my entire bottom.
Unlike the searing agony of his belt, this punishment built slowly, methodically—a steady heat that radiated outward with each impact.
My flesh grew warmer, surely turning a deeper shade of pink with each stroke.
I realized suddenly that my daddy was going much easier on me than he ever had before, when he had punished me.
For a moment I wondered why, fearful that I had somehow messed up the operation.
Then I understood: Jax meant to leave me room, inside my head, to think clearly when the trap was sprung, so that I could play the role he meant me to play.
Abruptly, Jax stopped paddling me.
“Uncle Oscar, Uncle Viktor,” he said, his voice full of a masculine-bonding kind of energy that made my tummy flip. “Go ahead and feel how warm this little bottom is getting.”
They approached from opposite sides, their hands eager to test Jax’s handiwork. Oscar’s manicured fingers traced the curve of my left cheek while Viktor’s rougher palm cupped the right, both men squeezing and kneading my punished flesh with appreciative murmurs.
“So perfectly ready,” Oscar purred, his thumb digging into a particularly sensitive spot.
Viktor’s thick fingers dipped lower, brushing against the exposed folds of my pussy. “And so wet,” he observed with a chuckle. “Like ripe fruit ready for picking.”
A moan escaped my lips before I could stop it, my hips pushing back involuntarily against their probing hands.
I told myself I was just playing my part, following Jax’s instructions to make them believe I enjoyed their touch.
But as Viktor’s finger slid between my slick inner lips, circling the entrance to my vagina with practiced precision, the shameful truth burned through me like wildfire.
I wanted this. Just like the girls whose cries of unwilling pleasure filled the hall behind me, I craved the sensation of being used, of being shared by these powerful men.
Even knowing what Oscar and Viktor truly were—brutal crime lords who dealt in suffering—couldn’t extinguish the dark flame of desire their touch ignited.
“Listen to her,” Oscar murmured, leaning close enough that his breath tickled my ear. “Such a needy little thing.”
Jax moved behind me, his presence commanding even in silence.
I felt the cool fabric of my panties being drawn up over my heated bottom, the soft material somehow amplifying rather than soothing the sting.
I whimpered as the fabric settled against my punished skin, the discomfort sending a shock of wetness flooding between my thighs.
“There,” Jax said, his voice a perfect blend of dominance and pride. “All ready for her uncles.”
I felt his strong fingers find the pearl button at the back of my panties, and then I felt him release it, the fabric parting to expose my wet pussy and my cringing anus while still framing them in childish white lace—a perverse contrast that surely was the reason for the sharp breath I heard ‘Uncle’ Oscar.
“She’s all yours, gentlemen,” Jax announced, stepping aside. “Use Little Lulu as you like.”
Viktor moved first, his massive frame positioning behind me as his hands spread my thighs wider. I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper, then felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
“Such a tight little pussy,” he growled, pushing forward in one powerful thrust that made me cry out. “So eager for her uncle’s cock.”
Oscar circled to my head, lifting my chin with one finger. “And what about this pretty mouth?” he asked, already unfastening his belt. “Is it as talented as your daddy claims?”