It wasn’t a real border crossing detention center; she’d figured that out when they stuffed the ball gag between her teeth. It had cut off the sputtering protests about her passport and questions about where they’d taken her friends quite effectively. Something told her that there would come a time soon when they’d start asking pointed questions; they just probably wouldn’t care what she answered.

In the meantime, though, they had dragged her off into one of the cinder-block cells for the “courtesy” of a private pat-down. The agent assigned to her seemed much more concerned with some areas than others. At one point, he rummaged in his pocket, pulled out a little plastic bag with a foil packet in it, and tossed it nearby.

“Oh, it was very unwise to try to import this particular substance,” he purred, holding her squirming body against the hot concrete. “The minimum sentence is five years of labor. Labor for which you will need very thorough training. And if we find anything else tucked away inside you, tourist girl…” He shoved her dress up and adjusted the glove on his fingers, grinning. “There may be a corporal element to your sentence as well.”

Panting in fear, knees trembling, undeniably dripping with things other than sweat, she got the distinct feeling that she’d find one particular thing tucked inside her very soon.


“Aaaaand… forty! Good girl. Okay, I’ll just play with your nipples until you come down off the edge. You’re so close! Only ten more until we put the belt back on and lock you away for the night.”


The dormitory common rooms at St. Tantalus Academy For Wayward Young Ladies are well-appointed, comfortable, and a fine opportunity for girls to study together and make new friends.


He could tell as soon as he walked in the door, the way she blushed and darted her eyes around, toe of one shoe twisting on the floor.

He didn’t ask at first. He took his time, removing his jacket and hanging it up, setting his briefcase on the table, unlacing his shoes. He let the silence lengthen. He let it build until she had to break it herself.


He didn’t look up at her yet. “Yes, little one.”

“I have to tell—um, did you have a good day at work?” She caught herself, remembering the protocol.

“It was fine, thank you for asking. And how was your day here?”

“Kinda boring. Um. Daddy.” She took a deep breath.

He pushed a chair out from the table. “Stand here,” he said quietly. “Hands on the back. Good posture. There’s my girl.”

She was shaking a little as she assumed her position. He stood and began to pull her clothes off, calmly, treating her as he would an easily-panicked animal. “Now,” he said, “your confession.”

“I played with your toys today, Daddy,” it tumbled out in a rush. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I know I wasn’t allowed to. But I did almost all my chores, and I was so good, I was waiting for you, but I just got so bored, and then—”

He had her down to her underwear and socks now; he unsnapped her bra and gently tugged it off her shoulders. His hand drifted up her belly to stroke the underside of her breast. “These toys?” he said.

She bit her lip, trembling, and nodded. “And others. Daddy.”

“It’s not your fault, Princess,” he explained, his mouth close to her ear, making her whole body tingle. “My toys should have known better than to help you break the rules. So I have to punish all the toys that you touched. I have to remind them why they don’t disobey Daddy. You understand, don’t you, little one?”

“B-but Daddy, I–I mean they tried so hard, I—”

“Little one,” he murmured, a little growl in his voice, “you’re going to drop your panties to the floor now. You’re going to carry them to your room—in your mouth—and put them in your dirty girl laundry, and come back with the soft cuffs you keep in your special drawer. And then we’re going to play a little game with my toys together. Say, how long that pretty little bottom can keep from lifting off this chair.”

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice from going squeaky. “Yes, Daddy!”

“GOOD girl,” he chuckled. “I promise, tomorrow, you’ll all be MUCH better behaved.”


Dreams can come true!


“Ugh, can you put that down and help me for a minute? We’ve got a fighter over here…”

“Wait, really? You can’t handle her on your own?”

“Come ON! She’s really squirmy, I don’t want to drop her.”

“Christ. All right, let me put this one down. I keep telling you, if you get a grip on the collar and then shove a few fingers in the other end, they’re a lot easier to hold onto. See?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, careful, you just left the keys on the ground there…”

“Eh. Let her stare at them for a minute and whimper. What’s she going to do?”


Somebody has been wearing her big-girl sassy panties lately.

Somebody has been getting a little mouthy about what other people should or shouldn’t do with their time.

Somebody believes she can make manifest her desires in the world with magic.

Somebody has expressed fantasies about being shackled, boxed, plugged, and shipped off to be just one more helpless squirmy pet in a whole collection of girltoys.

Somebody should be very careful what she wishes for.