Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
But I saw, glancing at him in anxiety, that he had a smile on his face. I took a gasping breath at the way warmth and relief filled my chest. Daddy Jacob’s eyes said that he understood that a naughty girl, after she’s learned her lesson, might well become thoughtful—spacy, even—at the dinner table.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, hardly even noticing the little-lady voice as it emerged.
I stood up, the movement bringing a wince to my face and stinging the corners of my eyes with tears, and picked up my plate, putting my fork and knife on top of it. I went over to Daddy Jacob’s place and bent over to pick up his silverware, so that I could stack the plates.
As I did it, I felt my brown-eyed daddy’s enormous hand run up my thigh, from the back of my knee all the way to my thoroughly-punished bottom. I gave a little cry, and the cry became a soft moan because Daddy Jacob’s two middle fingers pressed in between my legs to find my aching pussy. I felt my cheeks go hot as I sensed myself almost gushing with need onto his gently moving digits.
I couldn’t move: I stood, my daddy’s fork and knife in my right hand and my left curled helplessly into a little fist, as my bear daddy softly probed inside me to find my mortifying wetness. Little whines came out through my nose. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as I felt my hips respond, trying desperately to lure my daddy’s arrogant fingers more deeply into the sheath he had claimed so masterfully for himself yesterday, and then left needy today.
“Good girl,” Daddy Jacob murmured. “Nice and wet for Daddy.”
I let out a cry as my bottom squirmed in his hand. “Yes, Daddy,” I whispered.
All the soreness seemed to have transformed itself into the greatest arousal I had ever experienced, as if my daddies’ discipline had opened new pathways in my nervous system. My whole body trembled like a guitar string played by Daddy Jacob’s skillful fingers.
“I’ll do the dishes,” he said. “After you clear the table, you may take off your bib and go to your room. I want you to lie on your back on your bed, and hold your knees nice and open, and think about what it means to be your daddies’ bad girl. Leave your bedroom door open.”
I opened my eyes and looked at Daddy Phil. I understood that Daddy Jacob had decided to give my wolf daddy his share of alone time with their fuck toy, to return the favor Daddy Phil had done in letting my bear daddy take me to the break room by himself.
“Do as Daddy Jacob says,” said Daddy Phil, smiling. “I’ll come and show you your punishment panties, and we can talk about them a little while we wait for him.”
CHAPTER 19
Marianne
I would have guessed that obeying Daddy Jacob and lying there by myself, shamefully exposed, wouldn’t really have felt like anything new. I would have been wrong.
Even before things got truly humiliating, the simple act of having consciously left my door open made me blush as I pulled down the covers and climbed onto the bed. That blush became scalding when I lifted my knees and put my hands on their backs to open myself up completely. I could see the start of the cleft of my pussy. I could even see a little bit of my clit’s wrinkly, complicated hood.
I could see, over the shameful glimpse of my private parts, the open doorway. I bit my lip.
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… what what meant? 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…”