How to Treat a Naughty Girl

Eva Monroe
6 mins read
Published over 1 year ago
Chapter 2

How to Treat a Naughty Girl (Part 2)

While you sipped your drink and watched me, I stole glances at the phone screen, filming me in my vulnerable state. I tried not to squirm too much, biting my lip to remind myself to hold still.

“More porn for us to sell,” you explained, and I honestly couldn’t tell if you were serious, or if this was just another means of taunting me. “We’ll call the website How to Train a Naughty, Dirty Girl. And every time you misbehave, we’ll make a new tutorial detailing your punishment and what you learned. Would you like that, slut?”

“If it’s what you want, boss, then… yes, I would.” The more we settled into our dominant/submissive dynamic, the clearer it became that there was very little I would not do for you.

Your drink finished, you came over to me and cupped one of my breasts with your hand. I obediently stood with my arms behind my back, since you hadn’t told me to change positions. As hard as it was to not cling to you, I gripped my elbows and held on tight as you began your delicious assault on my whipped-cream-dipped nipples.

Licking and nibbling and sucking, you used your hand to shimmy my breast back and forth under your mouth. It was my absolute favorite sensation, and I moaned with abandon as you savored one breast and then the other. In between breasts, you paused and stood back, leaving a clear view of my stripped, wanton body for the camera.

You leaned against the wall next to me, casually leering at my tawdry nakedness.

“Are you learning your lesson, dirty girl?”

“Yes… yes, boss…” I panted.

“And what is that?” you prompted.

“To, um… not buy porn? …With a credit card?” I offered.

You chuckled. “Yes, that’s step one.”

Then you dropped to your knees and held my hips steady. Slowly, with agonizing delicacy, you licked the whipped cream from between my legs. I instantly started to squirm, but you paused just long enough to instruct me to hold still. I did my best to follow orders while you worked me over into a veritable frenzy… 

Carefully, you caressed the sides of my labia with your tongue. Some of the cream slid down the inside of my thigh, and you followed it, using your mouth to scoop it up… Returning to the center between my legs, you spread my lips with your hand and meticulously cleaned every inch of me… When you came close to my clit, you stopped, making me cry out in anguish.

Smirking, you looked up at me.

“Say please,” you commanded.

“Please… please…” I begged.

You sighed. “Be more specific.”

“Please… don’t stop…” I replied. “Please l-lick… lick my clit, please…”

“Interesting. And here I thought you would beg me to let you come. Very well, have it your way.”

And with that, you flicked your tongue over my clit ever so lightly, maybe half a dozen times… then you gave it one long, luxurious stroke with your tongue. I whimpered, cursing myself inwardly for not having the presence of mind to beg for an orgasm. 

Clearly it was too late now.   

With your work complete, you stood up and examined your effect on me. I stood panting and aching for you, eager to show you that I could learn how to behave. 

“Spread your legs wider for me,” you ordered, and I complied at once. 

Smack. Smack. Smack. ...This time between my legs.

“What’s the second part of your lesson, my insatiable, horny girl?”

Smack. Smack.

“Oohh… oww… umm… That if I act-” Smack. Smack. “Mm, oww… if I act like a naughty, dirty girl-” Smack. Smack. Smack. “...oww ow… then I’ll get treated l-like a naughty, dirty girl…”

“That’s right,” you affirmed. “Now turn around and stick your ass out for me. Let’s get some proper dirty girl spankings on video.”

I did as I was told, keeping my elbows grasped behind my back, and leaning my bare chest against the wall so I could thrust my bottom out the way you liked.

“Mmhmm…” you rubbed your hand over my ass cheeks, jiggling them back and forth. “Just like the sordid, vulgar girl you are…” 

Smack. Smack. Smack.Smack. Smack. Smack. 

As I took my punishment, my mind swirled with thoughts of what you might have in store for me next… 

Smack. Smack. Smack. 

…Cleaning up and doing dishes while naked? 

Smack. Smack. Smack. 

…Maybe washing the windows naked, in full view of any curious neighbors?

Smack. Smack. Smack.Smack. 

“Next time you get horny and greedy, you’ll think twice about buying porn, won’t you?”

Smack. Smack.Smack. Smack.

“Y-yes… ohh… oww… yes, boss… I promise, I w-won’t do it ag-again…”

My ass wriggled under your final, merciless blows.

Smack. Smack. Smack.Smack. Smack.

“Damn right you won’t.” 

Walking over to the camera/phone, you picked it up and brought it closer to me, running it up the length of my disheveled body until you reached my flushed, chastened face.

“What do you say when you get the punishment you deserve?” you challenged.

“Thank you, boss… thank you for teaching me h-how to behave…” I replied, doing my best to look as contrite and remorseful as I felt.

“Good girl,” you praised, and my stomach flipped. “Now come with me.”

And with that, you turned off the recording and led me out of the dining room.

In the kitchen you stopped me and told me to take off my bra and step out of the panties that were still around my ankles. After complying with your instructions, I handed over my lingerie and followed you, stripped completely naked, into the bedroom.

“You’ll need a shower, since you’re a dirty, sticky mess,” you said. “When you’re done, you can put on the outfit I lay out for you.”

“Yes, boss,” I agreed, heading into the shower like a contrite, obedient girl.

After soaping myself up and washing thoroughly, I dried off, lotioned up, and came back into the bedroom to get dressed.

Laid out on the bed, I found the tiniest g-string I owned, a matching French sling, and a short, tight, dove gray dress. Based on your dress choice, I inferred I would be continuing to serve you at home, since you’d always deemed it “too slutty for public consumption.”

Slipping into the barely-there g-string, I adjusted it as best I could and then put on my bra. A French sling is designed to prop your tits up like they’re on a shelf, with your nipples left peeking out over the top. It’s about as naughty, slutty, and on display as a bra with any coverage can be.

Squeezing myself into the dress, your reasoning behind the French sling was immediately evident. My tormented nipples were hard and perky, making them plainly visible through the thin, stretchy fabric.

Looking down, I noticed a pair of strappy black heels, which I dutifully put on and fastened around my ankles.

After touching up my hair and makeup, I finally emerged from the bedroom. You put down the magazine you were reading and appraised my appearance.

“Perfect,” you declared. Standing up, you draped a long cardigan over my shoulders. My dress was so short, the hem of the sweater went right past it. “So you don’t get cold while we’re out.”

I stood rooted to the spot.

“You want me to go out? Dressed like this?” 

“Is that a problem?” you challenged me.

“N-no, boss… I just, you’ve always said… this dress…”

“I know what I’ve said.”

“I… look like a…” I trailed off, realizing that was precisely the point.

“A prostitute? …A porn star?” you teased. 

 “Yes, boss,” I agreed, lowering my gaze.

“Come on, my little sexpot.” Placing your hand on the small of my back, you ushered me out the door. “Time to let everyone see what a naughty piece of ass you are.”