My girl can get out of line at times. She allows her friends to engage in conduct I ought to rip both their heads off for. But what if I punished her in a different way?

If she's intent on acting like a slut, I might as well treat her like one. Drug her, tie her down, invite a few people I know. She'll be gagged so she can't yell for help. She'll wake up after having serviced a few other clients while unconscious. I can imagine the tears rolling down her eyes, the shame as she closes her legs while the cum of men she'll never know drips out of her pussy.

I'll watch, of course. As she tries to squirm away from groping hands, when she uselessly fights against the ropes keeping her tied down. As she looks to me for help, only to find cold and uncaring eyes staring back at her. I want her to hate every moment of these men touching her. I want her to feel the pain of being raped over and over and over again. I want to hold a mirror in front of her face and watch her eyes go blank as she tries to escape into the back of her mind.

Maybe I'll throw a few bills on her body afterwards, sweat and grime and the bodily fluids of those men not yet dried. I'll untie her, remove her gag. She'll reach out for me to comfort her, as always. I'll step back and watch her face fall at the rejection.

Smirked like they thought they were being cute.

Said “Make me” when I leaned in and warned them to behave.

And I didn’t say a word after that.

Not in public.

No. You want to act like that in front of people? You get to wait. You get to squirm all day wondering what I’m going to do when we get home.

And once we’re through the door?

It’s over for them.

Clothes off. Knees shaking. That smug little smirk long gone.

“You had a lot to say earlier. What happened?”

They’ll try to play innocent. Try to pout. Maybe even say sorry.

Too late.

They’re getting edged until their legs give out, voice ragged from gasping and begging.

“No. You wanted to be a brat? You get to be my pathetic little plaything until I decide you’ve earned it.”

And I won’t stop.

Teasing, denying, spanking, pushing them further every time they whimper.

My voice soft, cruel:

“Go on. Say ‘fuck you’ again. Say ‘make me.’ Let’s see how smart your mouth is when you can barely speak.”

I’ll have them crying and trembling, soaking wet, so far gone they can’t think straight

And only then will I let them cum.

Maybe.

Because if you act like that in public?

You’d better be ready to pay for it in private.