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Daddy Jacob had his hands below his belt, his fingers fiddling with something, lowering it. It took me a moment to understand.
“I’m going to get her acquainted with my cock while you paddle her,” he said, without taking his eyes from mine. “It’s important to make sure our bad girl understands what sexual discipline means.”
CHAPTER9
Marianne
Again…I thought vaguely, as my mind whirled.He’s… teaching me.
Important… important for our bad girl…
I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch Daddy Jacob’s long but clearly nimble fingers do what they had started to do with the zipper on his faded jeans, but I couldn’t close my eyes or look away no matter how hard I tried. He had the coppery metal tab thing—for an insane moment I wondered what it was called, as my brain scrambled to find anything else to focus on, besides what my daddy was doing—between his thumb and forefinger. He drew it down to the bottom of the zipper’s teeth. He reached inside.
I felt Daddy Phil’s hand move. It went further across my hip and grasped me there. A puff of air blew against my ass, right in the middle, where my already burning bottom cheeks met, where the dark valley concealed my most private place. I didn’t understand, though, until I heard the crack of the paddle’s leather face, and I had started to yelp from the pain of the stroke on top of all the soreness from Daddy Jacob’s hand.
New tears welled up at the corners of my eyes. My hands clutched hard at the edge of the couch cushion. I expected Daddy Phil to bring the paddle down again, but the second swat didn’t come. Instead, as I saw, my heart racing, that Daddy Jacob had found something inside his jeans, and begun to pull it out, the hand on my hip moved again, backward and downward, to fondle my bottom.
My back arched like the curve of a rainbow, it felt like, if the rainbow had a color scheme of hot reds, and deep purples, and deepest black. Despite every independent thought in my head begging my body not to, I pressed my ass backward against the strong hand, the probing fingers that found out the heat and the wetness there.
In front, Daddy Jacob’s hand re-emerged from his fly, and he held in it the long, hard thing that I had seen only in vague drawings. I hadn’t ever watched porn, or tried to find pictures, even. As I whimpered at Daddy Phil’s fingers lewd movements on my paddled bottom and between my thighs, I suddenly revisited, in my mind’s eye, the many times I had decided, firmly,notto try to look at a real man’s penis. I realized, as I swallowed hard on the flood of saliva that had to my dismay filled my mouth, that I hadn’t refused because I didn’twantto see what a man had between his thighs. I had refused because I had known, somehow, that if Ididsee a penis—above all, a cock like Daddy Jacob’s, huge and rigid and menacing, attached to a man whose biceps bulged out of the sleeves of his white t-shirt—I would want…things. Bad things.
Bad things for a bad girl.I realized, from the distant galaxy where it seemed I went at these moments, that I had taken my lower lip between my teeth, and that my head was shaking slowly back and forth.
“Oh, no,” I heard myself whisper. “No… no…”
Daddy Phil’s left hand went away from my bottom and my aching pussy. It moved back to my waist. A stab of fear made my whole body tremble, because I knew what that meant, but the hand gripped my hip to keep me still, and I felt my blue eyed daddy’s body shift, and then the puff of air came, and then the horridcrack—and then the searing pain that made me cry out.
My eyes, the tears flowing from them down my cheeks, remained fixed on what Daddy Jacob had in his right hand. I felt his other hand, too, even though I hadn’t noticed it reaching out towards me: my brown eyed daddy took my chin gently in his fingers, as if to make absolutely sure I knew I must keep my gaze fixed on his enormous, hard penis. He stroked it slowly, his hand moving up and down, perhaps teaching me how a daddy likes to have his cock attended to.
“No, isn’t the word we want to hear from you,” Daddy Phil said. “It’s time for you to get Daddy Jacob’s cock ready for your pussy.”
I felt my face twist into a pout of woe, even as my mouth kept watering in a way that I felt certain made me a very, very bad girl. I had never seen a penis before, but with my new daddy’s manhood jutting out at me, threatening my virgin pussy, demanding the service of my untried mouth, I felt a shameful urge to yield, to obey—to please my daddy like a good girl and a little lady, even though I knew a little lady would never do such a degrading thing.
Daddy Jacob’s left hand squeezed my chin: not hard, but enough to tell me what he wanted, and to confirm that Daddy Phil had meant what he had seemed to mean, that the way a bad girl gets her daddy’s cock ready to take her virginity is to suck it, no matter how embarrassing or uncomfortable she finds the shameful deed.
The hand on my hip moved again, over my bottom cheeks, holding the right one and then the left one, gripping each firmly so that my body shuddered each time.
“This is one warm, red ass,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “I’m pretty sure it qualifies as avery sore bottom.”
That drew a little whimpery sob out of my throat, through my open lips.
“Look at me,” Daddy Jacob said, his words seeming to come from impossibly high above me.
I turned my gaze upward, lifted my chin a little, and felt with a flip of my tummy how my daddy’s hand restrained me, demanded my service. The expression on his gorgeous, dark-bearded face reinforced the thrill of fear and need his fingers had generated in my nervous system. Without any further words from him, just at the serious, hungry look in his chocolate eyes, I opened my mouth further and I put out my tongue.
“That’s it,” Daddy Jacob said. “Good girl.”
Another whimper, drawn into a whine, emerged from my chest, and I heard it from that faraway detached place again. The independent, young woman I had come to think of myself as: the different kind of bad girl, who used her smarts to get what she needed without giving anything in return… she looked down at the naked girl upended over the firefighters’ couch and somehow both recognized herself and saw an utterly different person—the sort of bad girl who couldn’t get enough of her daddies’ degradation, their use of her like a sex doll, their claiming of her as their thoroughly-disciplined, obedient fuck toy.
I felt Daddy Jacob place his warm, hard cock on my extended tongue. Daddy Phil gripped my bottom harder, in the middle, two fingers pressing into my virgin vagina as if to remind me that the penis pressing slowly but very deeply into my mouth would soon go there.
“Good girl,” Daddy Jacob said again.
I felt my brow furrow. The hand between my thighs started to work my pussy in an insistent rhythm. With each inward stroke, just up to the place where the pressure almost hurt, I sobbed around the shaft that Daddy Jacob moved back and forth, in the same cadence Daddy Phil kept in my vagina.
Good girl.The faraway, independent young woman didn’t want to hear that—more, she didn’t want to feel what the words made her feel: proud…happy. How could she be happy… how couldIbe happy that I had to look into the stern eyes of a huge man as he enjoyed my mouth with his thrusting cock?
“Alright,” Daddy Jacob said, still gazing down at me though his tone was clearly directed at Daddy Phil. “It’s time to open up that pussy.”
