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Daddy Jacob had told me to think about something. It took a long time to even remember what he had said, so distracting did I find the sight of the hallway beyond the door. Very faintly, I could hear Daddy Jacob at the sink, clinking dishes together as he rinsed them and put them into the dishwasher.
What it means…My daddy wanted me to think about what it meant… whatwhatmeant? I remembered, at last, embarrassed on top of everything that I had forgotten, since it seemed so simple:Think about what it means to be your daddies’ bad girl.
It meant lying on my bed like this, with the air moving shamefully over places that should never see the light of day. It meant wanting desperately, despite the humiliation and the degradation, for my daddies to come in and touch me there, where they had put their huge, hard penises.
I bit my lip, my forehead creasing hard.
It meant a terribly sore bottom, and an even more uncomfortable anus, because I had done naughty things… my daddies teaching me terrible lessons… training me with their strong hands and their thrusting cocks. It meant longing for them not just to touch me, but…
I felt my hips jerk. I whispered, unable to keep the words from rising, “Please, fuck me, Daddy. Fuck my poor little pussy as hard as you want. Please…”
My eyes had closed. When I heard the voice—a man’s voice, but not one I knew—I let out a startled cry and opened them, reflexively lowering my knees and putting my hands over my pussy.
“I hope I get to, Marianne,” he had said. He stood in the doorway, leaning against it. He had Ashley in front of him, and he had one arm around her waist, that hand resting casually between her thighs, cupping her pussy. She had taken off her punishment panties, I saw, and had a pair of tiny, lacy pink ones on, as well as a matching lacy bra that showed off her ample breasts thrillingly. The idea that Ashley had earned the right to wear underwear added to my embarrassment, though I wouldn’t have supposed I could have felt any more shame than the simple presence of my fellow fuck toy and one of her daddies had already brought. “But I’ll wait for your daddies’ permission. Little Ashley here is going to get it nice and hard in a few minutes, though. I’m Daddy Ned, by the way. Great to meet you.”
I looked into Ashley’s face. Her brow had furrowed as if to match mine, and her cheeks had gotten pink. I took a little comfort in her apparently sharing my embarrassment, but the fact that she had lingerie on and I had to lie there exposing myself—which, I realized with a wide-eyed skip of my heartbeat, I hadstoppeddoing—seemed to divide us. I could see in Ashley’s eyes, too, that her greater experience as her daddies’ sexual relief device had gotten her used to all this—really, to the thing Daddy Jacob had ordered me to think about, what it meant to be her daddies’ bad girl. I longed for the acceptance I thought I could tell the other girl had acquired.
“You’d better get those knees back up,” Daddy Ned said, pulling my gaze back up to his handsome face. His clean-shaven features didn’t, I thought, have quite the stunning good looks of my own daddies, and his hair was golden. He did have the same astonishing physique, his biceps bulging out of the sleeves of his white t-shirt. “We won’t tell, though. Will we, Ashley?”
I heard Ashley give a little whimper. When I looked back at her I saw that she had taken her lower lip between her teeth. Moving my eyes even further down, I saw the reason: between her thighs, Daddy Ned had taken much firmer hold of her lace-covered pussy. His fingers curled rhythmically as he masturbated her.
I swallowed hard. I tried to stop my mind from traveling the shameful path of my imagination, but I couldn’t help it.Her daddy’s getting her pussy ready for fucking. She’s a lucky girl, because she’s going to go for a ride on Daddy’s cock, soon. Her daddy will make her ride his penis until she’s very sore, though, I’m sure, because she’s a bad girl just like me, and it’s all a punishment, just like Daddy Jacob told me.
“Tell what?” I heard Daddy Phil say.
With a tiny cry of alarm, I raised my knees and got my hands back on them, feeling again the utter exposure, now to three sets of eyes as Daddy Phil loomed right behind Daddy Ned in the doorway.
“Oh, nothing,” said Daddy Ned with a chuckle. He had turned to look at his colleague, an easy smile on his face. Okay, maybe he was as handsome as my daddies—but no one, I thought, could bemorehandsome than Daddy Jacob and Daddy Phil. “Ashley and I will get going. We’ll use her in the living room if you and Jacob are going to be in here.”
“Sure,” Daddy Phil replied, so casually that it sent another wave of heat to my cheeks. I turned my eyes again to Ashley’s, and saw that maybe her acceptance and comfort with the way bad girls got treated had its limits. “We’re just going to put her in her punishment panties, though. We’ll probably come out and watch a show with you guys after.”
“Deal,” Daddy Ned said, nodding. “And we can talk about when we’re going to use them together, too.”
As I absorbed Daddy Ned’s casually degrading words, my eyes moved down to the place between Ashley’s thighs where his hand moved gently and rhythmically over the mesh surface of her pretty panties. My tummy flipped when I saw that my fellow bad girl had a visible wet spot there. Lifting my gaze to Ashley’s face, I saw in her green eyes that she had of course seen me looking: she had started to chew on the inside of her cheek, and her face showed the same terrible mixture of misgivings and helpless arousal I felt.
I thought that part of my humiliation had ended for the moment, and I started trying to look past Ashley’s hip to see what Daddy Phil might be holding in his hands. Daddy Ned had another idea, though.
“Ashley, sweety, do you want to taste Marianne’s pretty little cunt? Phil, that okay with you?”
My body seemed to grasp the blond daddy’s meaning before my brain did. I took a gasping little breath through my nose, and I felt my face twist into a pout of deep mortification. I looked up into Ashley’s face again, and I thought I could tell that she had never considered that possibility, any more than I had.
“Sure,” Daddy Phil responded. “We should definitely have them get friendly. Selecta told us to do that, right?”
“Yup,” Daddy Ned said. “Something about learning about their need to submit their sexuality to authority, something something rehabilitation.”
Daddy Phil laughed. I barely even heard it. Ashley and I had locked our gazes so deeply I felt like we had flown to the moon and we stood there looking at each other—no spacesuits, just two naked bad girls. Well, nearly naked, in Ashley’s case. Really, more than naked: the pretty pink lingerie somehow seemed to expose her even further, since her daddies must have dressed her in the lacy bra and panties just so they could enjoy themselves more when they took them off, or pulled them aside, to put their hard penises inside her.
I swallowed hard, because I felt certain that the expression on my face must look nearly identical to the one on Ashley’s: nearly as embarrassed, nearly as helplessly curious.
We should definitely have them get friendly.Daddy Phil had put a special sort of emphasis on “friendly” that brought a surge of blood to my cheeks just remembering it.
“Ashley, do I need to tell you to fetch your paddle? Answer me, sweety. Do you want to taste that sweet cunt?”
Her eyes said that she knew the right answer, as shameful as it would be. I felt my head start to shake slowly on the pillow, though I had no real idea what I intended to deny.
Ashley’s gaze didn’t waver. Our eyes stayed locked, mirroring both our shame and our need, as she answered very softly, in a little-girl voice that I thought must sound just like mine.
“Yes, Daddy.”
