Chapter 1: Naughty Daughter Spanked

“We’re not angry with you,” my mother said, giving me a slight smile, “we’re just disappointed, Bess.”

“Disappointed?” I groaned. “That’s it? Disappointed?”

I glanced at my father’s car, the front end crumbled, radiator fluid forming a larger and larger puddle. I pushed up my glasses and then rubbed at the back of my neck. The tow truck beeped loudly as it backed up to the vehicle.

“That’s right, Bess, disappointed,” my father said while nodding.

He stood tall over me but his brown eyes stared at the wreckage of his car. He loved his Mustang. The cherry-red, sleek sports car held a prized place in our garage. Every Saturday he spent a good hour or two washing and waxing it, stroking the vehicle with all the care of a man caressing his lover.

“We’re just glad that you’re okay,” my father added.

My mother nodded, her light-brown hair spilling about her face. She put her arm around my shoulder, pulling me to her. I winced, my neck aching more from the violent impact. I couldn’t believe she was comforting me.

“You’re not going to punish me?” I demanded.

“Honey,” my mom sighed, shaking her head. Her green eyes focused on me. “What is going through your head these days?”

“That I wished my parents would be my parents?” I muttered.

“And how are we not your parents?” my father asked. He ran a hand through his black hair, the same shade as my own locks spilling down my face. “Because we don’t do something as hindering to your development as punishing you?”

“Yes!” What did it take to get them angry at me?

“You’re just going through a teenage phase,” my mother said. “I was rebellious when I was fifteen, too.”

“Did you steal your father’s car?” I muttered.

“Steal?” my mother asked, amusement in your tone. “I’d hardly call what you did stealing, Bess. You’re part of the family. You borrowed your father’s car.”

I stared at her, shaking my head in shock. “I only have a learner’s permit. Dad never even teaches me in his Mustang.”

“Being curious and testing boundaries is a part of life,” my father said, quoting that dumb, hippy philosophy my parents subscribed to. “That’s all. You were just exploring your potential.” He let out a sigh. “And your potential is not in driving my car.”

“So ... what are you going to do to me?” I asked, squirming in my mother’s embrace.

“Love you,” my mother said. “Perhaps we need to give you more attention.”

I ground my teeth together. “You need to punish me! I was bad! I wrecked Dad’s car! After I stole it.”

“What do you want us to do?” Dad asked, his brown eyes finally falling on me, puzzlement crossing his handsome face. “Spank you?”

“Yes!”

“My father spanked me,” my mother said, “and it didn’t do anything but make me resentful.”

“It’s cruel. Children shouldn’t be harmed by their parents,” my dad said. “Misbehavior is merely a cry out for attention.”

“And you must really want our attention.” My mom gave a smile. “We should have a family night tomorrow. We’ll go see a movie, have a nice dinner, and—”

I let out a shrieking groan. Nothing. There was nothing I could do to get my parents to punish me. To treat me like an actual daughter. I glanced over at my cousin Louisa, my partner in crime. She had been riding shotgun after I suggested we steal my father’s car and go cruising. I was eager to show off what we were driving.

Her parents, Aunt Georgia and Uncle Wayne, shouted at her like proper parents. She shrank between them, squirming and wilting beneath her mother’s angry tirade. The words weren’t clear, drowned out by the traffic streaming by on the road, but the anger was there. Louise would face actual consequences to her actions. They would make her do chores, or maybe even spank her.

I would love to be spanked.

I shook my head. How could Aunt Georgia and my mom be sisters? What went wrong with my mom? How had she infected my dad with her hippie nonsense? Children needed to be disciplined, dominated. They needed to be controlled or they would do dumb things.

Like me.

“Is this like when you borrowed my vibrator?” my mom asked. “Did you take your dad’s car so we’d punish you?”

“Yes!”

“See,” my father said, “this is what society does to people. It gives them horrible expectations. It’s brainwashed you to think we need to be authoritarian. It’s so confused you, kiddo. You don’t have to act this way. We love you.”

“So let’s go home, sweetheart.” My mom rubbed my arm. “We can get ice cream on the way home. Cold Stone’s on the way.”

Ice cream... ? Ice cream... ? My parents were insane. Poor Louisa was trembling. She had tears glistening on her cheeks. Her father was shouting at her now, standing over her, looking so handsome and strong, so powerful.

A naughty wave of heat washed through me for Uncle Wayne. My fifteen-year-old pussy clenched. Such dizzying lust spun through me. I swayed against my mother, wishing to be Louisa so badly. If my father was as strong as Uncle Wayne...

That would be so hot.

My phone beeped. My parents wouldn’t even take my phone away. As my mother lead me to the family minivan, I swiped in my unlock pattern on the screen and tapped the notification, bringing up a long text message.

“What?” I muttered as I read:

CONGRATULATIONS Bess Atwater!!!

You have been chosen by our top team of researchers for our exciting new product! The Halo is the answer to all your life’s needs. Tired of your parents treating you more like a friend than their daughter? Tired of them not living up to your expectations?

Well you’re in luck. Our patented Halo mind control technology will allow you to take control of the people in your life and mold them to your wishes.

I know you are as excited as we by this amazing possibility. Out of all the billions of people in this world, we think you are one of the TWELVE lucky candidates to utilize this ground-breaking technology.

So congratulations and get ready to seize your new life!

Your package should arrive in moments by drone. Enjoy!

Sincerely,

Deidre Icke, Esq.

President of The Institute of Apotheosis Research

Mind control? Wouldn’t that be nice? To have real parents. Not ones who bought me ice cream after I wrecked a thirty-thousand car. Or after I was caught masturbating in the living room with Mom’s dildo. Or getting into my parents locked liqueur cabinet. Nothing I could do would get them mad at me. I tried so hard to be naughty.

I just wanted them to be strong and dominating. I yearned for it. Especially my father. I wanted them to punish me. To degrade and humiliate me when I was bad. It made me so wet. It had me masturbating furiously just thinking about it.

How wonderful would it be, to be spanked... ?

Oh, I would love to be bent over my father’s knee and feel his hand falling on my rump. I wanted to feel his anger. To feel his punishment. I wanted the pain burning through my ass. To make me shudder.

I swiped away the crazy text message. Mind control ... It didn’t exist. It would be wonderful to mold my parents...

I climbed into the back of the minivan, taking a seat. My eyes stared out the window. I caught my reflection, my narrow face wistful, my green eyes yearning. I rubbed my thighs together, my virgin pussy so wet, my panties getting soaked with my excitement. I wanted to squeeze my small breasts and pinch my large nipples.

I had bigger nipples than my cousin Louisa despite her larger breasts.

Father started up the minivan. He adjusted to mirror until I could see his eyes. They seemed to be smiling. “Let’s get you some ice cream, kiddo.”

Kiddo! He should call me pumpkin or sweetie or slut. He should be so angry. He should be growling, “When we get home, young lady, you’re going over my lap and feeling my hand on your bare bottom. I’ll make you understand why you don’t steal my car and wreck it! Then I’ll tie you up to your bed all night, shove your mother’s wand massager against your cunt, and leave you like that all night. You want my cock fucking your cunt, you’ll earn it, slut!”

I wanted to masturbate so badly. I squirmed and groaned as we drove down the street, my cheek pressed against the window, feeling the cool kiss of the window. My heart thudded beneath my chest, my nipples so hard against my bra. I rubbed my hands up and down my thigh. I so wanted to get home, get in my bedroom, and satiate my hot cunt.

Abuse my slutty pussy.

I would cry out so loud. I would say such obscene things. My father would hear and realize just how much of a whore I was. How he needed to discipline me and make me his sweet daughter again. He’d have to be so strong, so dominate, a father, not a weak man who wanted to buy me ice cream for wrecking his car.

Only he wouldn’t do any of that. A year of masturbating and moaning and letting my parents know I pleasured myself had done nothing. My mother just gave me an understanding smile and my father pretended I didn’t do anything.

“It’s good that you’re pleasuring yourself, sweetheart,” she’d told me. “You shouldn’t let your desires bottle up. Do you want me to buy you any toys?”

It wasn’t right.

The closest I came to punishment today was suffering going to the Cold Stone Creamery and sitting with my parents eating ice cream like a child. While my pussy burned and itched. I couldn’t satiate myself. I was denied my own pleasure. I focused on that, trying to fantasize it was deliberate, that my father knew I had a hot cunt needing to be touched and punished me by denying me any chance of satiating myself.

But he had no idea that I needed to masturbate. I was sure if he did, he’d drive us home right now and give me all the privacy I needed to satiate myself. If I asked, he’d probably go buy me a sex toy to make sure that I had the best masturbation session possible.

So I ate my mint chocolate chip ice cream and waffle cone in silence while my parents chatted about boring things. I suffered, aching to get home. I couldn’t wait. I would abuse my pussy so hard. I would scream out in rapture, begging to be spanked and disciplined. It would be such an amazing orgasm.

I would pretend I had real parents!

“Feed’s live,” Alexis Icke’s twin brother, Alex, said. She squirmed on his lap, naked, her sixteen-year-old breasts swaying. She rubbed at her stomach. She’d learned only an hour ago that her twin brother had bred her, following the last god’s instructions. Brother’s should breed their sisters. It sent such giddy delight through the girl.

“Good,” she moaned. “I’m so eager for what Bess will teach us. She’s our age.”

“But has no brothers,” sighed Alex, his hand rubbing Alexis’s belly, sending waves of heat through her body. She whimpered as they stared at the screen. An image appeared, broadcast from a drone hovering up in the air. “A drone feed?”

“Why aren’t we seeing a spycam from inside the house?” Alexis asked. The Institute of Apotheosis wasn’t really a typical tech company. While they produced hardware and software, they were dedicated to creating new gods, using the Halos created by the company’s dead founder, Dr. Henry Peter Blavatsky. The guru of their group had a vision to enlighten mankind and staffed the company with his followers.

Even after him and his wife’s deaths, Alexis’s mother continued the work. Today, the fifth god, Bess Atwater, had been sent the halo.

Alex tapped the keyboard, cycling through the various spycams embedded in Bess’s house to monitor her progress and witness her revelations to the world. Alexis frowned, the house appeared empty and...

“She’s not home?” Alexis asked as they returned to the orbiting drone feed. “Look, look, the package is still on the doorstep.”

“Delivery must have messed up,” muttered Alex. “They were supposed to make sure she was home before letting the drones deliver it. Now anyone could find the Halo and make themselves into a god.”

“No,” Alexis gasped. “She has to find it.” She squirmed on her brother’s lap, fear twisting through her stomach.

Alex nodded his agreement.

“Finally,” I muttered as my parent’s minivan pulled into our driveway. The garage door opened. The space father’s Mustang should be parked in looked so bare. He let out a sigh as he pulled in and, for a moment, I had hope I’d feel his anger and be disciplined.

But that wouldn’t happen.

My phone chirped again as I climbed out of the car, so eager to masturbate. I grabbed it and saw another text message from that same place. It mentioned my package had been delivered to the doorstep. I didn’t care. I had a hot pussy to enjoy.

I darted into the kitchen and raced through the house. Why wouldn’t my parents just punish me? Why couldn’t they be normal and spank me? Just once? To show me that they saw me as their daughter, not their friend. I thudded up the stairs and threw myself into my room. I flung myself onto my bed, surrounded by my stuffed animals. I kicked off my shoes and attacked the fastener of my jeans. I wiggled them down my lithe legs, my rump squirming, my pussy clenching.

“Ooh, Daddy, just spank my bare bottom,” I moaned as I threw my jeans to the floor. I grabbed my body pillow, fluffed it, and then threw myself over it, my ass up in the air. I yanked down my panties. “Look, look, my naughty ass needs to be disciplined.”

My pussy clenched as my hands reached behind me to grope my rump. I kneaded my butt-cheeks, my nipples throbbing in my bra. Juices dribbled down my thighs. I breathed in, smelling my spicy musk. It tickled my nose.

“Just spank my naughty bottom!” I moaned. “I was so wicked today!”

I smacked my own ass, but it just didn’t feel amazing. I felt it would be incredible if my father did it. I spanked myself a second time. My pussy clenched. My fingers itched. I slid them down my butt-cheeks to my pussy.

I rubbed myself. I groaned, pressing my face into my bedspread as I stroked up and down my virgin pussy. My flesh quivered, drinking in the sensations of my fingers. I groaned, brushing my clit, sparks flying through me.

My eyes closed. I pictured my father watching me, such a stern look on his face, so strong, so dominating. He would just take control of me. He would just dominate me and spank me so hard. His hand would crack over and over on my ass. Seeing me masturbate, witnessing that I was a wanton slut, would make him control me.

“Yes, yes, punish me, Daddy!” I moaned, not hiding my voice as my fingers penetrated my cunt. I sank into my juicy snatch, pleasure rippling through my body. “Spank me so hard! Look at me, fingering my cunt, wishing it was your cock in me! That’s so wrong! You should spank me and show me how nasty I am!”

I frigged my fingers in and out of my cunt. My eyes squeezed shut. I groaned and gasped, wiggling my hips. The delicious fingers stirred me up faster and faster. I whimpered and moaned, my snatch clenching hot and wet about them.

“I’m masturbating to you, Daddy!” I howled. “I wish you were fucking me! That’s how nasty and filthy I am! You have to punish me!”

I shoved a third finger into my cunt, stretching out my hole. Only fingers and dildos had touched it. I had never had a man inside my twat. I wanted my father to fuck me so badly. To get so hard from spanking me and then to ram his cock into me so hard. To bury his cock over and over into me.

My pleasure built and built. More and more of my juices spilled down my thighs. I whimpered and moaned. My left hand squeezed at my butt-cheek, my fingernails biting into my rump. I shuddered at the sharp pain shooting through me for a moment. The sound of my fingers plunging into my cunt made me shiver.

“Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me so—”

A soft knock came at my door. “You got a package, sweetheart,” my mom said. “I’m leaving it out here for when you finish.”

My cheeks went scarlet. She didn’t care that I was masturbating. Or that I wanted to fuck my father, her husband so badly. My family was so fucked up and not in the way I wanted. My lusts died. What was the point in being a filthy, nasty slut if they wouldn’t punish me and try to make me into a proper young woman?

I ripped my fingers out of my pussy, wiping them off on my thighs. I rolled into a sitting position. I stared at the door, biting my lip. A package ... Mind control ... If only that was real. My heart thudded in my chest. I squirmed on the bed, my heart beating faster and faster.

I could feel the package on the other side of the door. Just waiting for me to claim it. To make my family the way it should be. To have them punish me for being such a freak. My pussy clenched, itched. I could be fucked by my father.

I stood up and tottered to my door. I didn’t care that I only had a shirt and bra on as I opened it and peered into the hallway. Let my parents see what a filthy slut I was. I looked down at the box and, feeling bold, stepped out into the hallway, bending over and pointing my naked ass and underage cunt right at the stairs, hoping one of them would find me as I studied the box.

It had my name and address on it, but no return address. That was strange. There was no packaging slips or stamps or anything. Had someone just dropped it off on the porch? How weird. My heart beat faster and faster. I was so aware of my naked pussy pointing at the stairs. I fought the urge to run into my bedroom as I ripped open the packaging tape.

They would have to punish me for this. For pointing my pussy at the stairs. They would see my cunt juices dripping down my thighs. I fumbled at the tape. I pulled at it. The cardboard ripped up with it as I pulled harder.

Packing peanuts spilled around a foam container. Instruction manual lay on top for the Halo. I furrowed my brow as I picked it up, still bent over. I ignored the growing ache in my back and the juices rolling down my thighs.

I was such a filthy slut. I shuddered. Why couldn’t one of my parents walk up right now? They would have to punish me for this level of naughtiness, right?

Probably not.

I sighed and flipped through the instruction manual. It was written in a dozen different languages like stereo instructions. I frowned, stopping on an English page and read:

The Halo’s patented nanotechnology will bond with your DNA, enhancing the generation of your brain waves. Simply place the device on your head, and you will gain the ability to control others actions. Your brain waves will be so powerful, broadcasting from your mind, that they will override the brain waves of others.

This is all thanks to the ground breaking work of our founder, Dr. Henry P. Blavatsky and his wife Alicia Bailey.

“That’s crazy,” I muttered and threw it on the floor. I looked at the foam packaging. I pulled it open and found a gold circlet inside. My forehead furrowed more. It definitely looked like a halo. I grabbed it, feeling the cool surface.

This would give me mind control power? It would bond with my DNA? This was so dumb. A nervous writhe went through my stomach. My heart beat faster and faster as the excitement of my exhibitionism rippled through me. I wanted to dive into my room. But ... I still had to put on the halo. I still had to give my parents a few more seconds to catch me being a nasty slut.

I put the halo on my head.

Heat washed through me. I gasped and shuddered, blinking at the fuzzing warmth that spread across my mind. I gasped and ran my fingers through my black hair, searching for the ring to take it off and—

Where was it?

My fingers slid faster and faster, scratching at my scalp through my hair, searching for the feel of the gold ring. It had to be on my head. I’d just set it down on my head and ... Where had it gone? Did it... ? Did it melt into my brain? Had it bonded with my DNA?