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It had felt… it had felt like nothing else. Daddies touched their bad girls’ pussies, and I could even imagine a daddy kissing my pussy if I had obeyed him very respectfully, but not the way Ashley had just done. How could anyone but another girl kiss my pussy like that? Softly and gently, but also firmly in just the places where a bad girl knew to be firm, insistent with the tip of her tongue, while her fingers did terrible, knowing things inside my aching sheath.
She had a deep crease in her forehead, and her pink tongue came out of her mouth and licked her lips. I gave a gasp of need, because I wanted that naughty tongue back where it shouldn’t go… unless a daddy said it must go there.
“Thank Ashley now, sweetheart,” Daddy Phil said. “She made you feel good, didn’t she?”
I felt the blood rush into my cheeks. My eyes darted up from Ashley’s, just for an instant, to look at Daddy Phil’s patronizing smile.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said meekly. I turned my gaze back to Ashley, and saw again the mirror of my own deeply mingled feelings: shame and need and growing affection and fellowship. I felt my own brow furrow to match hers. “Thank you, Ashley,” I whispered, hearing so much little-lady primness in my voice that it sent another clench down there, where it felt like Ashley’s lips and tongue had left an impression that had only brought on more need.
“You’re welcome, Marianne,” Ashley whispered back, in a little voice that seemed the complement of mine. “I hope you like your punishment panties.”
I felt my eyes go wide. The mystery of the panties only seemed to get deeper, the only thing keeping them from terrifying me being that huge wet spot I had seen on Ashley’s own underwear when I had stolen my look at her.
As she climbed off the bed, I looked over at Daddy Phil again and saw them. If anything, the fabric looked even thicker up close than it had when I had seen them encasing Ashley’s bottom and pussy.
I cast a final longing glance at Ashley’s back, my eyes lingering on her pretty pink underwear. The narrow strip of lace between her bottom cheeks, which had on their trim, rounded surface a few tummy-churning hints of bruises from her punishment the previous day, made me blush a little, but I would still much rather have my daddy giving me that sort of lingerie than any garment that hadpunishmentin its name and looked like something a preschooler might wear.
Daddy Phil came around to sit on the side of my bed. I started to lower my legs reflexively—I supposed because no one stood in the doorway to look at the mortifying spectacle of a bad girl made to expose herself. My blue-eyed daddy shook his head, though.
“Keep your knees high and spread, sweetheart,” he said, a note of warning in his voice. “It’s not for us as much as it is for you. You need to learn about what happens to bad girls.”
“What does that mean, Daddy?” I asked in my little-girl voice. “What happens to bad girls?”
I knew the question would have sounded completely absurd in my adult tone of voice.What happens to bad girls?Thishappens to bad girls.In this other, younger way of speaking it sounded not nonsensical but meek and innocent—and it seemed the thing my daddy wanted to hear: his contrite little lady asking why she had to show her shaved private parts and her whipped bottom to everyone who passed by her door.
“Bad girls learn their lesson,” Daddy Phil said. He had the panties in his right hand, sitting on his jean-covered left thigh. I watched his left hand move idly over my tummy and slowly down, further down. I let out a helpless little whimper. I pushed up, even though I knew a little lady didn’t do that kind of thing. My daddy’s fingertips rubbed very softly on the little hill that rose above the tingly place where Ashley had used her tongue and made me feel so needy and so good. “Are you learning your lesson, little Marianne?”
I bit my lower lip so hard I almost drew blood, and I nodded urgently. “Yes, Daddy,” I whispered.
The fingertips rubbed a little more, in a circle, and they moved a tiny bit further down.
“Oh, Daddy,” I breathed. “Please?” My eyes darted from where I could see Daddy Phil’s fingers teasing me and where I could see his eyes looking down there, at my smooth little pussy, the place he and Daddy Jacob had put their rigid cocks and fucked me so hard.
“No, sweetheart,” he said, looking back up into my face. “You still have more of today’s lesson to learn.”
“But, Daddy,” I pleaded softly, hardly knowing where the wicked words came from, “you and Daddy Jacob fucked my bottom and put so much daddy seed in there. Don’t I get a reward now? It hurt my little hole so much to have your big penises in there!”
Daddy Phil’s eyes widened a bit, and his lips curled up into a smile that made me realize yet again just how handsome my blue-eyed daddy was. He nodded.
“Yes, sweetheart. And your bottom felt so good on daddy’s cock. So Daddy Jacob and I are going to reward you tonight. That’s what these are for.”
He took his left hand away from the aching place between my thighs, and held up the strange panties in front of my face with both hands. I felt my face twist into a pout as I looked at them.
“But Daddy,” I said, hearing my little-girl voice become petulant, as if some part of me had started to lean into this performance, “why are they called punishment panties if they’re a reward?”
Daddy Phil tilted his chin and raised his eyebrows in a warning sort of way that made my heart skip a beat.
“Things don’t have to be just one thing or another, do they, Marianne,” he asked, his voice becoming serious.
“No, Daddy,” I said, a fearful note creeping into my tone, “but I just don’t understand!” I clutched at the backs of my knees and squirmed on the bed, my body seemingly wanting to get in on the sassy little girl act.
“You’re not going to understand, honey,” said Daddy Jacob’s voice from the doorway. I felt the blood rush into my cheeks as I realized what he must have seen when I had fidgeted a moment before, the way my little pussy must have looked with me spread like this on my daddies’ instructions.” Not until you’ve worn them for a night.”
I peered at him between my upraised knees. Why did they both have to be so damn gorgeous? It made the question of what all of this meant so much more difficult.
Daddy Jacob stepped into the room. He had changed into his jeans and his white t-shirt to do the dishes, and he had a few little spots of water on his chest that only showed his pecs and abs to better advantage. I swallowed hard as he sat on the end of the bed, looking into my eyes as if to gauge every detail of my reaction to my daddies’ degradation.
“But Daddy Phil is going to explain a little bit and tell you a few things your daddies want you to think about when you wear your punishment panties.”
