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“This… will… stop… when… you… obey… me,” Daddy Jacob said, the horrible swats just going on and on as he spoke. He had started to move his hand up and down and side to side. My whole backside felt like he had pressed a hot iron against it. I thought the spanks on my bottom had felt painful, but they didn’t compare to the ones on my upper thighs, where I realized I had less protection for the nerves, anatomically speaking.
“Oh… ow… Daddy… please!” I wailed. “Please… please, Daddy. I… I’ll…”
Daddy Jacob stopped the spanks, but he put his hand on my ass and squeezed so hard I cried out. Daddy Phil let go of my wrists. Looking up into his gorgeous face, for a fraction of a second something inside me almost rebelled—the defiant voice whispered that I must not give in. A wave of pain from Daddy Jacob’s huge, strong hand shot through my system, though, and with a sob I bent my arms and lowered my upper body even further, so that my brown-eyed daddy held me completely upended over the back of the couch.
“There,” Daddy Jacob said, his voice full of grim satisfaction. “Good girl.”
An utterly unexpected flood of thoughts and emotions washed over me at those two simple words. The glow of pride and the warmth of unwelcome affection for Daddy Jacob that represented the biggest part of my body’s reaction took me by surprise. I sobbed at the feeling, shaking my head and whispering, “No… no…, please…” wanting to start struggling again, even though I knew I absolutely mustn’t move from that position, because I couldn’t bear any more spanking.
“Come over here, Phil,” I heard Daddy Jacob say from above me. “Take a look at her ass and her pussy and see whether you think she needs more before we fuck her.”
“Oh, God,” I sobbed. How could that utter degradation affect me the way it had? How could my pussy just have clenched?
Was it because I heard again, in Daddy Jacob’s voice, that same element of care that seemed somehow both to cut hard against all the humiliation he clearly meant to heap on me and at the same time to go with it seamlessly? As if every time this impossibly muscular firefighter said something lewd and objectifying he meant it not to hurt me but instead to… to… tobuild me up?
I looked up at Daddy Phil, whose own blue eyes had gone, I guessed to Daddy Jacob’s, over my naked form, ass upwards atop their living room couch. I thought I could see in his expression an awareness of the same idea I had picked up on in the dominant, paternal way my brown-eyed daddy handled punishing me. Daddy Phil had a little smile on his face that seemed to say that although he didn’t share all his fellow daddy’s instincts, he greatly appreciated them.
I bit my lip, feeling my forehead crease hard as I understoodwhy. My blue-eyed daddy liked having Daddy Jacob as his partner in owning me, their brand new fuck toy, because Daddy Phil could see how good a sexual relief device Daddy Jacob’s treatment would make of me… how nice a piece of ass I had already started to become for my daddies, thanks to Daddy Jacob’s first lesson.
Daddy Phil started to move around the couch. I turned my head to follow him.
Daddy Jacob lifted his left arm from around my waist and straightened up. The only thing keeping me from moving—trying to push up off my elbows and scramble away from these assholes who demanded I call them my daddies—was the big, strong hand that still gripped my burning bottom, the two middle fingers arrogantly and possessively pushed just inside my virgin sheath.
Do it!the rebellious part of me demanded.You’re a bad girl—that’s what they call you, right? Show them you have no intention of complying with this insanity!
But Daddy Jacob… he had called me a bad girl, yes, but that wasn’t the thing he had called me most recently, was it?
You cannot be serious!shouted my remaining resistance.That fucker calls yougood girl,and suddenly you decide that’s what you want to be? His little lady or some bullshit like that?
But…
I had lost sight of Daddy Phil. He had gone all the way around Daddy Jacob, to stand behind me to my right. I turned my face the other way, feeling my disheveled ponytail move wildly across my back, but I could only see his huge right bicep and a little of his white t-shirt.
Daddy Jacob let go of my ass. I let out a little whine through my nose as I realized both my new daddies were standing there, looking at my backside, my head down and my face forward so that I had no say in this degrading inspection.
Get up! Run!bad Marianne screamed in my head.
“Not quite red enough, I’d say,” Daddy Phil’s voice said.
“Yeah,” Daddy Jacob agreed. “Here, I’ll get the paddle they sent, and you can make sure she’s ready to lose her cherry.”
My body seemed to react in two diametrically opposed ways at the same time. For a moment, the defiant part of my mind got enough help from the sheer fear the wordpaddlehad brought to start the process of another futile escape attempt. In the same instant though, that very fear allied with the hot shame brought down on me by Daddy Jacob’s words,ready to lose her cherry,to make my hips jerk over the back of the couch, pushing my backside out as if I were another kind of bad girl—not the kind who disobeyed and tried to run away, but the kind who couldn’t wait for her first hard fucking by the men whose lusts she must serve.
What it produced in my limbs came in the form of a strange, disorganized movement: my arms pushed up and my upper body turned to the right, but my lower body bucked backwards, so that I didn’t actually go anywhere. It didn’t matter, either, because Daddy Phil put an end to it with a huge hand on my back, pressing me downward as I cried out in alarm at the easy strength with which he controlled me.
“No, sweetheart,” he said. “Stay right there. We don’t want to have to give you extra with the paddle. You did such a good job getting on your elbows for Daddy Jacob. Don’t make it harder on yourself.”
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, closing my eyes and hanging my head, feeling loose strands of hair fall around my face.
“Marianne, honey.” Daddy Jacob’s voice came from right in front of me.
I opened my tear filled eyes and raised my head a little, to see him looming over me, holding something in front of my face for me to look at. A pink leather paddle, the face only about the size of a handheld or an old-fashioned paperback book. I blinked. It seemed so different from the big one the doctor had used on Nurse Cathy.
“This is your paddle,” Daddy Jacob said, his voice sounding a little solemn. “You’re going to get to know it very well. You’ll keep it on your dresser from now on, so your daddies can always find it when you’ve misbehaved, and you can look at it to remind you about why you’re here.”
As I watched, he lifted it up and reached it to Daddy Phil, removing it from my view. I felt Daddy Phil’s hand lift from my back as he moved around to my left, and then his other hand pushed down on a spot a little lower, just above my tailbone, not very hard—just to make sure I knew I must stay in place.
“No…,” I begged, looking up at Daddy Jacob. “Please… just…”
