Stacie is a really bad girl. After assaulting an officer, it's either to prison or to experimental inpatient therapy with her. Without caring about details, only about not becoming a prison bulldyke's bitch, she chooses therapy. But what will Stacie do when she meets Mommy, her new therapist? Faced with spankings, diapers, and punishments for being a spoiled brat, will she choose prison instead? All characters depicted are 18+, intended for adult audiences only. A steamy new series from taboo erotica author Velvet O'Meara, many of whose titles are banned For the open-minded only. Excerpt: "I knew they'd tried to brief you and you hadn't bothered to listen, but I didn't think it was this bad," Mommy said. "Never mind that now. Listen, young lady, we're going to take you indoors, out of that nasty jumpsuit, and get you properly dressed. You will never use such filthy language in my hearing again, is that clear?" "You're f*cking crazy," Stacie spat, amber eyes blazing. "This is supposed to be therapy? People dressed like babies? What the f*ck is this place?" She was still ranting when her head reeled back as Mommy slapped her across the face. It stung badly, and Stacie raised one hand disbelievingly to her face, words stopped dead in her throat. She tried to wrench her arm away from the woman, but the grip was like iron. She kicked the woman instead. Mommy slapped her again, harder. "This is not usual therapy, and I'll only tell you this once. If you behave, you'll be treated well. If you're very good, I'll even reward you. If you insist on disobeying me, you'll be punished. I've read your files and heard all about you from your lawyer and the judge. You're a spoiled little brat, and you'll be treated like one until you learn to behave." "F*ck you, you crazy b*tch I'd rather go to prison " Stacie finally managed to wrench her arm away and made a grab for the car door, but the vehicle was already moving and she missed. She coughed as the collar of her jumpsuit suddenly choked her; Mommy had grabbed her by the back of the jumpsuit and was dragging her bodily towards a bench intended for playground seating. "I highly doubt that, honey," Mommy said, mouth set in a tight line, keeping a firm grip on her new charge as she dragged her along. The two "children" stared, open-mouthed, as Stacie fought, kicking and shrieking, the entire way. Mommy tore the jumpsuit open down past the waist with her bare hands, sat down, and pulled Stacie down by the hair over her lap. Before Stacie knew what was happening, Mommy brought her right hand down hard across Stacie's firm ass. "Ow Stop What are you doing?" Stacie shrieked, trying helplessly to get away from Mommy's punishing spanks. The now-ruined prison jumpsuit was all Stacie had been wearing; they hadn't provided her with undergarments that day, as they had said that she would be getting new things to wear at the Institute. Stacie was completely naked down to the thighs, exposed in the bright spring sunshine to Mommy's hand after the cheap jumpsuit had been mostly torn away. The fabric trapped her legs, and between Mommy's fingers pulling her hair and keeping her head immobile, Stacie felt as if she could barely move. She wriggled wildly like a fish on a line, trying to break free, trying to escape the outrage of the spanking by any means necessary. Each hard slap burned her ass like fire, the pain building up bit by bit, but no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't get away. She could feel Mommy's thighs, long and round and soft, underneath the bare skin of her belly, and her small bare breasts ground against the rough, splintery wood of the bench. With every spank, Mommy dug her nails into Stacie's hair, pressing her cheek against the wood and holding her in place, pressing half-moon grooves into her scalp.