suppose it was my fault.
It was a Saturday, sunny as I could hope for, and I had nothing else to do but lay out by the pool.
"Morning, Daddy," I said, as I walked past him in the yellow bikini Mom had said I could only keep if I didn't wear it out of the house. The back yard was technically part of the house, so I was pretty sure that wasn't what she'd meant.
Dad had his back to me but turned as I opened the French doors and let myself out onto the deck, and I heard his grunt of surprise. I was expecting a 'Morning, Bubs' (I have no idea where that pet name came from or what it meant -- lost in history -- but infinitely preferable to 'pumpkin', 'angel' or 'princess', right?) and the lack of response, that grunt aside, was strangely satisfying.
I guess it had something to do with the itsy-bitsy bikini that barely covered my ass from the back, and didn't cover much more at the front, either. But the yard was fully fenced all the way round, and not overlooked with the exception of Mr Roger's windows -- and he was too old to care what I wore, even if he could see that far. So Dad couldn't object, could he?
There was a sun lounger already perfectly positioned for the angle I needed, and it only took a moment to set down my book, adjust my towel, then a few minutes to apply some suncream. Only thing worse than tan lines? Sun burn. Wasn't going there. Thirty minutes a side, maximum; in this heat, any more and there was a risk I'd burn. But I already had a quite pleasant coppery base tan, and I knew I could manage an hour in the sun with ease, if I creamed up well and turned when I needed to.
Finally ready, I lay out on the lounger, put some Miley Cyrus on my Spotify. I couldn't read face up, it was too bright. I'd wait until I turned over. My book was on the table beside me. Instead, I relaxed and closed my eyes.
For about ten fucking minutes, until my AirPods died. Crap. I was sure I'd charged them.
My instinct was to yell for my Alex, my brother, but he was away with friends on a camping trip. I glanced toward the house, wondering if a sorrowful look would summon Dad out to see what I needed. Chance was low, and I knew better than to call for him. I could get away with bossing my brother around. Dad? No chance.
Sighing, I pushed myself up from my extremely comfy sun-drenched lounger and went to switch out my traitorous AirPods for my Wi-Fi headset. I could Bluetooth that into my phone instead, and though it wasn't as comfortable it would do.
Dad wasn't in the kitchen when I came back in, but then I'd never really expected him to come out and proactively offer to help anyway. That wasn't his style. I padded upstairs. Both Alex's room and my room were on the right, with mom and dad's room to the left. I'd almost reached the top of the stairs when I heard it: a sharp crack coming from the left, followed by a gasp.
I frowned. I didn't recognize those sounds.
Another crack sounded almost immediately, and I paused one step shy of the top of the stairs. It almost sounded like... but no, it couldn't be.
"Yes... spank me, Daddy."
Oh. Oh. I stood in shock for such a long time that two more of those soul-wrenching slaps echoed from beyond mom and dad's door. It wasn't just that the sounds I'd heard were spanks. (Yeah, I'd finally figured that out even without the hint mom had given.) It wasn't just that it was Daddy spanking Mommy, which was pretty fucking shocking as it was. Hell, I didn't know they still had sex, let alone... kinky sex. And speaking of kinky sex...
"Oh fuck... do you like spanking me, Daddy?"
Daddy. She was calling him 'Daddy'.
That was so fucked up it was beyond kinky. Well, okay, I guess it wasn't. But it was a whole level of kinky way beyond what one would ever expect from one's own parents.
"You know I do, you little slut." Another crack accompanied my father's gruff response.
I realized I'd been standing one step short of the landing for about two minutes. Or getting on for a dozen spanks, each one clearly heard despite the closed door, along with the gasps, the whimpers, and the casually thrown in and frequent use of 'Daddy'. Fuck. For a moment I was tempted -- really, really tempted -- to creep up that last step, tiptoe to the left and push my ear to their door. Or maybe even see what could be seen through the keyhole. But I didn't. I padded as quietly as I could to my room and found my headset. By the time I'd reached the top of the stairs again, the sound of spanking had been replaced with a different slapping sound, this one lighter, more frequent and more rhythmic. I could hear mom's high-pitched whimpers through the door.
My cheeks were burning with embarrassment as I made my way back outside. I supposed, ostensibly, my parents were a healthy, attractive, red-blooded couple with needs. Even if Dad was a couple years shy of fifty and mom was only five years younger. I guess they weren't that old. They were still in shape, after all. Mom had her yoga and Pilates and Dad his swimming, running machine and weights. And I guess from their perspective, they'd expected me to be in the yard for an hour or so, with my AirPods in so I wouldn't be likely to hear anything.
I lay on the lounger, my book lying forgotten, the music in my ears not drowning out the memory of my mother's voice.
"...Do you like spanking me, Daddy?"
Fuck. That was so wrong. Hearing your mom calling your daddy... well... Daddy when they were so clearly doing... that. Hearing your daddy calling your mom a slut.
And fuck, but I was wet. So unbelievably fucking wet. Why was I so wet? It was my own parents! It shouldn't be turning me on! Was it just finding them having sex? Ugh, no. That didn't do anything for me. Was it the spanking then? That was... weird, but I couldn't deny it was intriguing. I mean, I've watched porn. I've seen people get spanked. I haven't been spanked -- not since hitting puberty, anyway, and it hardly counts when you're a mouthy eight-year-old. Okay, so maybe the spanking was affecting me a bit.
But not as much as hearing mom calling daddy Daddy. That was... unbelievable.
Was this just some perfectly innocent roleplay thing that they'd always done? Or -- and I could hardly bear to consider the question -- was this somehow a fantasy about me?
Their nineteen-year-old daughter. Currently wearing hardly anything, out on a sun lounger, far less innocent than I had been a half-hour earlier, when I'd walked past Daddy wearing not much more than a smile.
Fuck. Was that what had triggered it? Had he seen me? Had he stood behind the window, watched me rub suncream into my body, got all horny watching me, then gone upstairs to wake mom up and take it out on her?
So it was my fault.
No. That was too much to consider. It had to be a coincidence. They probably just did some kinky roleplay stuff and today was daddy/daughter and next week was teacher/student. Nothing to do with me at all. Perfectly innocent, harmless, healthy sexual play between consenting adults, a loving couple. That just happened to be my parents.
The alarm on my phone went off. Half hour already? I turned over, stretching out on the lounger with the sun on my back, my mostly-bare ass on display. Something that hadn't bothered me at all as I'd walked out earlier, but now... what if they'd finished, and were watching me? Hell, their bedroom overlooked the yard.
But again, I was being silly. There was a perfectly reasonable, nothing-to-do-with-me explanation for this. I reached up and untied my bikini straps (tan lines) and relaxed again. I would forget about it. What they did in the privacy of their bedroom was, after all, completely their business.
And none of mine.
*
"Emma, you're gonna burn if you stay out here much longer."
I jumped so hard my whole body jerked. I hadn't heard him come out. Had I dozed off? I reached for my phone, wondering how much time I had left of my second half hour. Fuck. I hadn't reset the timer. I'd been more than a bit distracted -- for obvious reasons -- and I'd forgotten. And I'd been out here... almost ninety minutes. Fuck, fuck. I needed to get in fast.
"Thanks, Daddy," I said, pushing myself up. "I hadn't realized the time." Completely forgetting that I'd untied my bikini top, which obviously stayed right on the lounger as I sat up. Or that an hour and a half lying in the sun, followed by sudden movement, left one dizzy with the world's largest head rush.
I flung an arm across my bare breasts but not before I'd managed to give him an eyeful. "Sorry," I muttered, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Great. Flash him right after he'd spanked and fucked mom. Just perfect timing.
He chuckled softly. "That's okay, Bubs. Take it gently, now. Take your time heading inside. I'm just going to do a few laps."
He stepped to the edge of the pool and dived in, but not before I'd seen the lump in his swimming trunks. Had I turned him on? Or was that as big as he was when he wasn't turned on? I'd never really noticed before.
Could my day get any more surreal?
A half hour later he knocked on my door.
"Emma? You decent?"
"Um..." I was still in my bikini bottoms, and I'd just pulled a short t-shirt on. Funny how, in my own bedroom, with my daddy about to enter, that felt indecent, but at the side of the pool wearing a hell of a lot less was just fine. But that was before I knew my parents used the idea of me to stimulate their sex life. Or didn't. Maybe it was all innocent. "...I guess?"
He cracked the door, and a hand came through, holding a bottle of after sun. He wiggled it at me. "Do your back?"
"Oh. Yes, please, Daddy." It wasn't like I could say no. It was only prudent to say yes -- I'd had the sun on my back for way longer than I expected, and besides, it would be awkward to start saying no to him. Not as a fucking awkward as saying yes, but... oh fuck, I was so fucked.
The door opened fully, and he came in. He'd swapped his swimming trunks for a pair of shorts, and his hair looked messy and disheveled as though it had been recently towel-dried. His chest and legs were bare, and for the first time I saw how much of a hunk my dad really was. I'd never even thought of him like that before, but hearing him spank mom while she called him 'Daddy'... well, it kinda changed my perspective a bit. Okay, a lot. I felt a blush rise and looked away, embarrassed.
"I figured you would need this after being in the sun so long, Bubs. Didn't I tell you to set a timer?"
"I... I thought I did. I kinda got distracted." By listening to my parents fucking after the whole daddy/daughter spanking roleplay thing. And here I was, still wearing those bikini bottoms, about to lie down for him.
So yeah, turned out my day could get more surreal.
I lay down on the bed, as much to bury my rapidly-heating face as to get the ordeal over with sooner. I felt the bed shift with his bodyweight as he sat next to me, and heard the sound as he flipped open the bottle cap.
"Shoulders too?"
"That would be nice, thank you."
"Better pop the shirt off then."
"Oh, um..." I wriggled until I could grasp the hem of the shirt, arching my back to lift my upper body from the bed and pull it over my head. It wasn't graceful, but I could do it without flashing him. Again.
"Cold bit."
He laid his hands on my skin, covered in the lotion, and it wasn't even that cold. He slathered it on good, and it hardly took him a minute. It wasn't even a massage, just the clinical application of after sun from the small of my back to my shoulders. He took enough time to make sure it was mostly rubbed in, then I felt him rise just as I was beginning to relax into his touch.
"Done already?" I asked in surprise.
He smiled down at me. "I'm assuming you can reach the rest yourself."
I blushed, lowering my eyes, as he turned for the door.
"Lunch in an hour?"
"That would be great, thanks, Daddy."
He closed the door behind himself, leaving me alone in my room with my thoughts. I'd been lying basically naked on the bed while he rubbed the lotion into me, and he hadn't even hung around to stare.
It was all in my head. My parents weren't the kinky fucked-up ones; no, that was all me.
Dammit.
*
The next day was Sunday. Mom was off on a three-day work trip that meant she had to fly out early and was gone by the time I got up. Dad was having breakfast in the kitchen.
"Morning, Bubs," he said, glancing up as I came in. His expression didn't change as he saw me, nothing but polite interest at the presence of his daughter, sporting bed hair and an oversized t-shirt. Hell, it was a lot more clothing than I'd worn yesterday, even if there was no bra beneath. But then he'd seen my bare breasts yesterday too. Thanks, Emma, that's not a helpful reminder so early in the morning.
"Morning," I mumbled, and placed a hand on his shoulder as I kissed his cheek. I fixed myself some orange juice while he finished his toast.
"Plans for today?"
"Not really. You know, summer break. Nothing much to do. Hang out by the pool a bit, I guess. With a timer, this time." He chuckled. "And there's possibly a party this evening at Milly's. Any chance of a lift home?"
He raised an eyebrow, "What time does it finish?"
"Er... like... midnight?"
"I'm too old and lazy for midnight taxi runs." He fished out his wallet and dropped a twenty on the breakfast table. "Uber is on me, okay?"
"Aww, thanks Daddy. And you're not old."
He was dressed in polo shirt and slacks, and he definitely didn't look old. He looked handsome and trim. Plus, I'd seen him half-naked yesterday, and he had the body of a thirty-something. Goddammit, Emma, go take a cold shower or something. That sounded like a really good idea.
He spoke as I was walking away. "Mom's already left for the airport."
I paused in the doorway, turning back. "Yep. I'll message her to tell her I love her."
He shrugged. "She knows, but that would be nice. And just to remind you that I'm playing golf today."
I'd totally forgotten, but that explained the dress code. "Sure thing, Daddy. Have a nice time."
"Paul will be picking me up in about..." he looked at his watch, "ten minutes or so. You'll be okay here by yourself?"
"Sure, don't worry about me."
"See you later then."
"Have a good day, Daddy."
I was in the shower when I heard him shout 'Goodbye', and the front door had shut before I'd replied.
I mooched around the house for a bit. Couldn't spend all day in the sun; it was just too hot, and I didn't want to burn further. I'd got away with it the day before, but only because of my base tan and the timely application of after sun.
What to do with myself? I played some computer games, but my heart wasn't really in it. Watched twenty minutes of Netflix before I got bored. My mind was all over the place, and I knew why. I couldn't stop thinking about yesterday.
In the end I got up and got dressed. I'd go into town, maybe buy some clothes. Could do with something fresh for Milly's party -- a new summer dress would be perfect.
A short while later I stepped out of the house, stopping with surprise as I saw Daddy's car in the drive. Surely he wasn't back already? But then I remembered -- he'd said Paul would be picking him up.
So his car was here. And the keys were just inside. He'd never know, and mom was on an airplane somewhere.
It sure beat an Uber. And saved some money. He couldn't argue with that, could he?
Daddy's car was an Audi Q7. A large SUV. It was beautiful, and he'd only had it for a few months. I'd only got to drive it once before, and then only for a few miles on an empty road. It was fast, too, and it sure made the trip into town a lot quicker. I parked it up really carefully, went to find myself some lunch, and then I'd go hunting for a summer dress.
It took me barely an hour to find something I liked, and I wore it out of the shop, my jeans and t-shirt in a bag, the strappy heels I'd worn ubiquitous with any look. I'd worn a bra beneath my t-shirt but gone commando under my jeans, and that meant I was now naked beneath the dress. It had all been on a bit a whim, and it wasn't really like me at all. I was feeling reckless and daring, and I was sure that was connected to yesterday too. I dunno, but finding out your parents fuck like rabbits in kinky ways just... does something to a girl. Or to me, anyway. Driving Daddy's car had been part of it too. It made me feel empowered, and added to the thrill.
It was by now past three, and as I drove home, I realized I shouldn't have stopped for lunch. I didn't know what time Daddy would get back. How long did a round of golf last, anyway? He'd left pretty early, too. I needed to get there before he did, otherwise he'd probably be pretty pissed that I hadn't asked to borrow the car.
I was two streets from home when a cat ran out in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and swerved. I'd been so keen to get home before Daddy did that I'd been going a bit fast, and the car didn't stop before it hit the curb. There was a loud bang as the front hit, and I felt the jolt through the whole car. Missed the damn cat, though. Small mercies.
It was obvious a moment later that something wasn't right. I stopped in the road and got out to see the damage. The front tire was flat, where I'd hit the curb, and somehow there was a massive scrape across the alloy, too. Like, a massive scrape. Fuck. This was going to be expensive, but worse than that, I wasn't sure I'd have time to get it fixed before he got home. Could they even replace an alloy from stock? Home was only a mile or so away; I drove carefully, the car juddering all the way on the rim of the damaged wheel.
It was with a sense of relief that I pulled into the drive. Now, if I could just call the garage before...
The front door opened, and Daddy stepped out. He was on the phone to someone, and I heard his voice clearly.
"She's just turned up, thank God. Yes, with the car too. You can ignore the report, thank you, officer. Oh yes, don't you worry, I most certainly will be having words with her."
The last was said as he stood beside the window, looking right at me.
He killed the call. "Out you get." I'd never heard his tone as cold as it was in that moment.
I opened the car door. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I began, "there was a cat, and it ran out in front of me..."
I don't think he'd realized the damage I'd done until I said that, for he immediately walked around the front of the car, and it didn't take him long enough to see the tire. And the alloy. His face went from grim to murderous in the time it took my brain to print 'G-R-O-U-N-D-E-D' in foot-high neon letters across my frontal cortex.
"Get inside," he said, through gritted teeth.
I picked up my bag from my passenger seat, my phone too, only then noticing I had six missed calls. My phone was on silent -- I hadn't remembered doing that. Dammit, no wonder he'd been on the phone to the police.
He followed me inside and closed the door with a softness that was more menacing than a full slam would've been.
"You took my car without asking," he said, and his voice sounded calm even though his eyes were cold. This was him at his most furious, I knew from experience. He was one wrong word away from a full-on explosion."Yes, Daddy, I'm sorry, I was trying to save money on..."
"You've destroyed that wheel."
"There was a cat, and I..."
"You didn't answer your phone."
"I had it on silent, Daddy, I'm sorry, I..."
"I came home, you weren't here, the car was missing, and the front door was open."
Oh, fuck. I hadn't locked up? "I... I..."
"What am I supposed to think?" he asked, and he took a step toward me.
I retreated back into the lounge. "I just went out shopping," I said sullenly.
"You went out to buy yourself a dress, leaving me to think the house had been broken in, that they'd found you, that they'd kidnapped you and taken the car too! All because you wouldn't answer your damn phone!"
I knew he was upset, but kidnapped? That seemed a bit farfetched. "Daddy, that's ridiculous, I..."
He grabbed my wrist so fast I hardly saw him move. He dragged me behind him toward the sofa. He was so much stronger than me, I couldn't begin to pull away.
"Daddy, stop!"
"Ridiculous? You take my car, crash it, scare me half to death, and have the nerve to call me 'ridiculous'?"
"I'm sorry, I..."
He sat down on the sofa, and pulled me over his lap. I half fell, half sprawled over his knees, my summer dress rising up my bare legs as I did.
"Gonna teach you a lesson, young lady," he growled. "You aren't too old for a spanking, and you damn well deserve one. Pull your skirt up."
A spanking? "Daddy, no, wait, please..."
"If I have to tell you again, I can promise you it will be ten times worse."
I whimpered at his tone, and my hands fell reflexively to the hem of my dress. I'd drawn it halfway up my thighs before I remembered I was wearing nothing beneath. I hesitated. "Daddy, please!"
His hand came down with a slap against the back of my thigh, and it stung. Fuck, but it stung. "Every second you delay earns you another ten blows."
I pulled the skirt quickly up to my waist, whimpering my shame and embarrassment, and the fear of what was to come.
He seemed to still, and for a moment the tableau held: me, draped over his knees, my bottom bared to him, naked from the waist down; him, sitting in his anger, and though I couldn't see it I could well imagine the surprise on his face. Then the disappointment that would soon come. Then the inevitable question.
"Why aren't you wearing any panties?"
"I'm... I'm sorry, I went... commando..." the last word was barely a whisper. How could this moment get any worse?
His hand came down on my bare ass-cheek with a crack that echoed around the lounge.
"Is my daughter a slut?" he asked, his voice menacingly cold.
"No, Daddy!" I gasped through the impact. And I wasn't, either, unless you count sleeping with Kenny Davis, and I hardly did, because it had just been the once and hadn't even taken that long.
My ass was warming quickly where his hand had landed.
His hand came down again, on my other cheek, and my whole body jerked at the force of the blow. "You're a thief and a slut, aren't you?"
"No, Daddy!" I cried, as my derriere throbbed with the pain of his spankings.
"Took my car," spank, "smashed it up," spank, "had the nerve," spank, "to call me ridiculous," spank, "and all the while," spank, "dressed like a slut!"
I cried out with every blow, my hips writhing beneath his hand. I dared not reach back to try to cover my ass, but at one point my hand might've flinched in that direction, for he'd captured my wrist and held it to the small of my back. I was helpless and vulnerable, and he kept calling me a slut. Just liked he'd called Mommy a slut when he'd spanked her.
Any other day, and this punishment would've been a painful humiliation, and a memory allowed to quickly be forgotten. But just the day before he'd spanked Mom, called her a slut, and she'd called him Daddy. Was he aware? I was aware. I couldn't think of anything else. There wasn't anything else.
And somehow it was making me wet again.
Oh, fuck, no!
I was naked over his lap, being spanked, and it was making me wet.
Tell me at least he can't see that! Tell me at least I'm not so wet that it shows!
He placed a dozen blows in rapid succession across the backs of my thighs, and fuck, but they stung. I couldn't help but writhe against him with each strike, gasping for breath at the pain of it all. What kind of view was I affording him, twisting and moving so? But I couldn't help it!
He spanked me one last time, and I felt his hand rest on my ass, gripping the cheek after the impact. He was squeezing it, and in doing so I knew that he was partly spreading me open. Exposing me more to his eyes... as if I could be any more exposed than lying naked, draped across his lap.
There was silence for a long moment, punctuated only by my sobs and his labored breathing.
He hadn't released his tight grip on my ass, and in that same moment I also felt him beneath me. He was hard. I could feel him pushing up against my hips, through his slacks.
Perhaps it was only then that he realized himself that he was hard, for abruptly he stood up, tipping me onto the floor at his feet. He stepped over me, quickly, then stood in the centre of the lounge, his back to me.
"Go to your room," he growled, and I dared not hesitate.
I ran, whimpering, up the stairs and to my room, flopping onto my bed, tears on my cheeks and my humiliation burning my bottom. He'd spanked me! On my bare ass!
And oh fuck but it had turned me on so much.
*
It was a half hour before he knocked softly on my door.
"Emma?"
I hadn't moved. I was still lying on my bed, face down. I wanted to tell him to go away, but I didn't want to provoke another spanking if he was still pissed at me.
"Come in."
The door opened quietly, and I heard him enter.
I felt him sit on the bed beside me, for the second time in as many days.
"Let me see," he said gently, and I felt his hands on the hem of my skirt. I was too shocked to stop him. Why should I, anyway? He was my daddy, and he'd come to see if I was okay. I wasn't okay.
I felt him lift the skirt free of my burning skin, then drape it over the small of my back. From the hiss of his breath, I figured it looked at least as bad as it felt.
"I'm sorry I spanked you."
"S'okay," I said into the pillow.
"I brought some lotion. Do you... I'm going to put this on, okay?"
"'Kay."
It was a lot colder than the after sun had been. I couldn't help the gasp that escaped at his initial touch, but as he slowly rubbed his hands over my beleaguered bottom the sensation went from burning hurt to a dull, aching throb, and each throb pulled at me in funny ways. His hands were on my both my cheeks at once, kneading, spreading, each move and each rub parting my ass and giving him an even more intimate view than he'd had as I lay across his lap.
And it was causing a certain friction, too. Letting parts of me press together as he brought his hands down, squeezing my cheeks, then as he pushed upwards, spreading me open, it wasn't just my ass that was parting. He was opening my pussy, too. And he was sitting right behind me.
He kept doing it. Hand squeezing my bottom together, sliding on down over, rubbing the lotion around, then pushing up firmly, gripping and kneading my cheeks, dividing them, and each time my pussy was gently parted too. And I knew he could see it all.
Easily a dozen times he did this, and then I couldn't muffle the moan in time as it escaped against the pillow. I knew I was wet. I couldn't imagine how he didn't know it too, sitting where he was, and with my labia so slick, they were parting more with each push.
Then at last his hands left me, and I about groaned with the loss of the touch and the relief that I wouldn't have to bear the humiliation any longer. That it was my daddy doing this! Touching me so! Seeing me, in such a state, when all he'd done was come in to administer some relief to my poor skin! Some relief... I burned a thousand times worse than before he'd come in, just in a different place.
"I need to do your thighs, too, baby," he said softly. "Spread your legs for me a little."
Oh fuck no. I had to put a stop to this. It had already gone too far. "I can do it, Daddy."
"Nonsense," he said, and I heard the bottle of lotion squirt into his hands. "I did the damage. I need to be the one to make it right."
It kinda made sense. In a fucked up and twisted, oh-go-on-then because it feels so good, kinda way.
I parted my legs a little, and it wasn't as if he hadn't already seen everything.
His hands were gentle on my thighs, and I had to admit it was pleasantly soothing. I closed my eyes under his touch, and about melted into the bed. The spanking was almost worth it for this bit.
"I didn't know you shaved," he murmured.
The awkwardness came back in a rush, and I felt my body tense. "Oh, I... er... um. I wax actually." Fuck, why had I said that?
"Oh." His hands caressed my thigh, rubbing lotion in gently. "Doesn't that hurt?"
Of course it fucking does. "You sorta get used to it." Never.
He switched to my other leg. "Doing it for someone special in your life?"
I laughed against the pillow, a sardonic sound. "You know there's no one special in my life, Daddy." Except you. "I just prefer it like that."
"Oh," he said again. Then, "Yeah, me too."
His hands stilled on my thigh for a moment, as if he realized what he'd said. Then slowly continued the gentle massage. "I mean I think it looks nice... um... I mean I prefer it that way too."
My lips twitched against the pillow. It was so rare to hear my daddy sound unsure about anything, and now it seemed I'd embarrassed him. The irony of the situation -- that he was the one feeling nervous -- made me want to giggle. I'll see your nervousness and raise you my abject mortification.
His hands slipped away from me, and I heard the bottle cap click. A moment later, and he rose. "I hope that'll help, Bubs, and I'm sorry I spanked you."
"I guess I deserved it, Daddy."
I sensed, rather than saw, him pause. "Yeah, you did. Don't scare me like that again. Ever. Okay?"
"I won't, Daddy, I promise."
He closed the door behind himself.
I lay still for a long moment, trying to regulate my breathing, the feel of his hands still lingering on my skin.
Then my hand slipped, unbidden, down beneath my body, until my fingers could touch where I wished he had. I am so fucked. I slipped a finger between my slick, wet, labia. I am so unbelievably fucked. I let my fingertip brush lightly over my swollen clit, aching with need. I am lusting after my own daddy. I pushed a finger inside myself, gasping softly. Just because he spanked Mommy. My hips started to push down against my hand, and I muffled a long moan into the pillow. She called him 'Daddy'. I rubbed my clit, my hips bucking against my hand. He called her a slut. Just like he'd called me a slut. And I came, my cries only partially covered by the pillow, as the biggest orgasm of my life wracked my body.
Afterwards I lay there, boneless and unmoving. A moment later I heard him going down the stairs.
Crap. Had he been up here? Did he... hear me?
I'd been sure my day couldn't get any more humiliating; I'd been wrong.
*
I didn't want to go to the stupid party anymore, but after lying on the bed for an hour, unmoving, I forced myself to get up.
The brand-new dress was a wrinkled mess, and I didn't have time to wash and press it before the party. I took a shower while I thought over my wardrobe options. Jeans and a t-shirt? Safe but dull. Short skirt and crop top? Slutty, and I wasn't. Okay, I was, but only for my daddy, and he didn't see me that way.
I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, and practically ran into him.
"Oops, sorry, Bubs."
"My fault," I said taking a small step back. I blushed, lowering my eyes. Great, now I can't even look at my daddy without blushing anymore.
"Aren't you going to the party?"
"Yes, but... I kinda ruined my new dress. I have to figure out what to wear."
"Oh, right. Can I be of any help?"
I looked up at him in surprise. Did he have any sense of fashion at all? But that was mean; he always dressed well, and so did Mom for that matter. "Er... sure? I guess?"
He stepped to the side, lifting his arm gallantly, "Lay on, Macduff."
It was a stupid thing he always said. Some Shakespearean quote from Macbeth or something. But it had a cute familiarity about it, because he'd been saying it as long as I could remember.
I walked back to my bedroom, conscious as I had never been before of how short a towel was when wrapped around my torso. It was amazing how quickly our dynamic had changed, in the space of only twenty-four hours, just because my fucking AirPods had died. Except nothing has changed at all, Emma; it's all in your head. Yeah, well maybe that too, but perception was nine-tenths of the law. Or something.
"So, what are the options?" he asked, pulling out my gaming chair and sitting down like a panel member on America's Got Talent.
"Er... wrinkled brand new dress," I said, waving a hand at the once-beautiful (and quite expensive) dress on my bed.
"My bad," he said, looking sheepish. "I could iron that for you, if you like?"
It was a kind offer, but it didn't solve the problem. It didn't just need an iron, it needed a wash, too. Because, y'know, masturbating while wearing it, getting cum on it and stuff. I blushed and looked down. "It's okay, I have other choices." Shouldn't have mentioned the damn dress.
"Okay! Next?"
"Jeans and a t-shirt. Safe but boring."
"Yeah, maybe... bit less boring with the right bra, though." He winked at me.
I stared at him in surprise. I mean, it was a damn good point, too, but I just hadn't expected my daddy to make it.
"Er... moving on... Short skirt and crop top says, 'too slutty', right?"
He lifted one hand and made a so-so see-saw motion. "Depends on who is there, I guess, and how short the skirt is. Back burner?"
It was a fair point. "Sure. Um... that was as far as I got."
"Hmm, okay. Summer party, right? Haven't you got those denim shorts?"
Well yes, I did have, but they were... kinda short shorts. "Yes... and arguably better than a short skirt, I suppose. But with what?"
"White button shirt."
I made a face. "Daddy, it's not an office party."
He smiled slowly, a hungry-looking grin that I'd rarely seen from him. It made my stomach flip. "That's because you're thinking about it all wrong. You fasten, like, two buttons. Then you tie the rest of the shirt underneath in a knot. Voila, chic and relaxed aesthetic, perfect for summer, that looks awesome with denim shorts and shows your class."
I blinked at him in surprise. "That... could work."
He nodded. "Go on then, show me."
Wait, what? "Wait, what?"
"Show me," he repeated, settling back into the chair with 'I'm not going anywhere' body language.
"Now?"
"Yes, now. Party is soon, isn't it?"
Party was soon. But still. "Um... I'm naked beneath the towel."
"Yes, one typically comes out of a shower that way. Nothing I haven't seen before. And recently, for that matter."
Damn, that was true. I was all out of excuses. I pulled the knot on the towel, letting it fall open, and threw it on the bed. I was naked before my daddy, for the third time in two days. But he was my daddy, and was that so very unusual? I mean, I'd started all this by wearing that stupid bikini. Hell, I was only slightly less dressed now than I had been then.
It was really all my fault.
I also realized I could've readied the clothes before dispensing with the towel, but I hadn't. And now I had to get them out, naked, with him watching. For fuck's sake.
I turned and pulled open my underwear drawer. Safest place to start.
"Are you going to bother with underwear?" he asked.
I hesitated, a pair of panties in my hands. "Do you think I shouldn't?"
He shrugged, "Entirely up to you."
The shorts really were very short. If I went commando beneath them there was a chance I could flash anyone who happened to catch the right angle. I stepped into the panties and pulled them up my legs, and it felt so very strange to be doing so while Daddy watched me.
I was definitely wearing a bra. With the shirt approach he'd suggested, to not do so would be quite obscene. I pulled it out.
"You don't have to wear a bra either if you don't want to," he said.
I glanced at him in shock. "Um... I think I will, if that's okay."
"Of course," he nodded graciously.
I pulled on the matching bra, fastening it behind me, and now I was dressed in just underwear before him. Not that dissimilar to a bikini -- in fact, this set covered more than the bikini had -- yet we were in my bedroom, and that somehow added an extra level of intimacy.
I found the shorts and pulled them on, feeling them snug around my ass and hips, tight across my mons. He watched me all the while. I had the perfect shirt for this. Perhaps the one he'd had in mind. It was an older style with a broad collar, a distressed, wrinkled effect throughout, and it draped loosely and sat well when I tied the knot across my midriff.
There was a mirror inside my wardrobe door, and I regarded myself critically.
"Needs a pair of strappy heels," he said, "but I know you have those."
I had several pairs that would do, but he was right; the extra height would show my legs off better. I went onto my toes before the mirror, and it instantly lifted the whole outfit.
"And personally, I think you should lose the bra."
"Really?" I asked, looking at my reflection. The bra was visible, that was true, but if I took it off, wouldn't I risk flashing everyone? The shirt was quite loose across my breasts.
"Mmm. You have perfect breasts. They don't need the bra."
I turned to him, momentarily speechless, his words shocking me again. That was what, twice in as many minutes? "You... you think I have perfect breasts?"
He smiled at me. "I'm sure every Dad would say such things to their daughter; I just happen to be the lucky one for whom it's also true."
I had no idea if every Dad said such things to their daughter. Perhaps they did. Maybe I could ask Milly. Or not.
"Still, I think I will leave it on. I don't want to be thought of..." I trailed off, blushing.
"...As a slut?" he finished for me, with one eyebrow raised.
I nodded, and he spread his arms open to me. I moved to him, and he pulled me into his lap. "I don't think you're a slut," he murmured, wrapping me against his hard chest, "whatever I might've said earlier. You can go commando if you like, too. I don't mind. Do what makes you happy."
"I didn't mind you calling me a slut," I said, leaning my head against him. Fuck, why did I say that?
"Did you mind me spanking you?" he asked, a playful note in his voice.
I considered the question for a moment, having not thought about it. Did I mind? Had I liked it? How had it made me feel? Wow, there were a lot of scary answers down those roads. I settled with something more neutral. "It hurt," I said petulantly, and stuck my bottom lip out.
He chuckled, a deep masculine sound that made his chest vibrate. "Well, back by midnight, young lady, or we'll be going for round two."
"Yes, Daddy."
*
He dropped me off at the party in his just-in-time-repaired Audi. The tire, anyway, not the alloy. That would take longer, and would no doubt cost me. But that was fair. Stupid cat."...Back by midnight, young lady, or we'll be going for round two."
Words that had plagued me since he'd uttered them. Such a temptation. I pushed my thighs together at the thought of once more being draped, naked, across his lap. The application of the lotion afterwards. His hands on my skin, spanking, rubbing, stroking. Fuck, I need to get laid.
"You alright, girlfriend? You look... distracted."
I smiled at Milly. "I'm fine. Been a busy weekend." Life-changingly busy.
She hooked her arm in mine. "Well, you look sexy as fuck. Let's go and tease some boys." She giggled at me, "In that outfit, you'll have them drooling over you!"
The time passed agonizingly slowly, not least because I glanced at the clock every five minutes. "...Back by midnight..." like Cinderella, and did she ever get spanked by the Prince? The story suddenly seemed the poorer for not including that. Fuck, and now I seem to have developed a spanking fetish. Just like my Mom, apparently, getting spanked by Daddy. Fuck, stop it, Emma!
As the evening wore on, I oscillated every few moments between wanting to deliberately be late, and wanting to make sure I was back on time. I wanted him to spank me again. But what was the point, when he saw it only as what it was: discipline for an errant child?
Yet as the thought occurred, I wasn't so sure anymore. Was that really how he saw it? He spanked me earlier out of rage -- largely because, if he were to be believed, I'd scared the hell out of him. So one might argue that the punishment had been so physical, and so infantile, because he was somehow psychologically regressing as a parent. Some theory. Well fuck, it made sense in my head. He'd wanted to hurt me for scaring him, to leave his mark on me so I wouldn't forget, and treat me like a child because it reflected the vulnerability he'd felt at something bad happening to his child. Yeah, the more I thought about it the more it did kinda make sense.
But this Cinderella-bullshit didn't make any sense at all. Not in the same light. Not in any way I could discern. There were only two options I could come up with. One, it was a throw-away quip, a comment made because he felt guilty about spanking me, and nothing he was actually serious about. Or two, he meant it, and he meant it because he wanted an excuse to spank me again. But then, around about ten-thirty while I was not-really-listening to some guy Milly was talking to explain why he was God's gift to women, I had an epiphany. What if One and Two were secretly the same thing? What if it was a throw-away quip, but also secretly an intent that he wanted to spank me again? I just couldn't see him getting so angry over me being half an hour late. Not historically. So if it was just a quip, and he wasn't serious, and I turned up exactly on 12:30, he'd be like "no dessert for a week." Fine, whatever. But if he wanted any excuse to spank me, I'd have given him one. And then, if he spanked me, it was because he wanted to! Yes! That was the perfect solution!
Fuck, now I had to wait for another ninety minutes before I could call an Uber. Why was time moving so slowly? I'd been to funerals that dragged less than this party.
I made small talk for another hour, nursing an orange juice the whole damn time. I didn't want to go home drunk. I wanted to be aware of everything that happened.
By 11:30 I couldn't take it anymore, said my goodbyes to Milly and went to wait out front. It was peaceful there; the quiet of the night with the backdrop of the party music's muffled bass matching the rapid beating of my heart. What would I do if he spanked me again? Hell, what would I do if I got back home, and he'd fucked off to bed already? Oh god, please not that one. Anything but that one. At least let me know where I stand with this!
And that was the beauty of my plan. Assuming he wasn't asleep, he'd either be pissed (mundane, boring punishment, lifetime of regret that nothing else happened) or he'd feign he was pissed (hot naked spanking, followed by... what?). But at least I'd know.
On the dot of midnight I called an Uber. Fuck you, Daddy. Cinderella is a bad girl. Whatcha gonna do about it?
It pulled up outside my house at 12:25. Not quite the 12:30 I'd promised myself, but I couldn't fucking wait any longer. I gave the driver the $20 Daddy had given me for the purpose, took a deep breath, and slid my key into the lock.
There were no lights on downstairs. No, wait... a slight glow from the kitchen. But that was just the deck light outside. Fuck, he really had gone to bed. Worst. Possible. Opti --
The small lamp in the lounge flicked on, and he was sitting on the sofa, glaring at me. "I'm pretty damn sure I said midnight, young lady."
Thank fuck. Okay, part A done. Part B of my plan: get the outcome I wanted.
"I'm not fourteen anymore, Daddy," I said, nonchalantly, as I lifted first one foot than the other, slipping off my strappy heels. "It's, like, twenty-six minutes difference. So what."
"You'll talk to me with respect under my own roof, young lady. When I said 'midnight', I meant 'midnight'."
"Yeah, well, sorry. There was a delay on the Uber."
The kitchen was on the far side of the lounge. I had to walk through it -- past him -- to get there.
"Bullshit." He was up before I was halfway across, standing in my way. I stopped, looking up at him.
He was radiating anger. I could almost feel it coming off him like some tangible sense of warmth.
"What did I say would happen if you were late?" he growled at me.
Fuck, this was it. "I don't remember, okay? Sorry I was late. I'm going to go to bed --"
"I said, 'we'll be going for round two'."
Oh yeah, so he had. Like I hadn't replayed those words fifty times in the past four hours. "Did you?"
"You know damn well I did."
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. So what's 'round two'?"
"You know damn well what it is."
"I'm tired, Daddy, humor me." Say it. I want to hear you say it.
He didn't say it. Instead, I watched as he walked to the sofa, and sat down in the middle of it. My heart flipped to see him sitting there, exactly where he had earlier. He still didn't say anything, he merely waved one hand over his lap.
"You want a blanket?" I asked.
He growled at me. "You're pushing me, young lady, and I'm going to make you regret it. Get your ass over here right now."
Final-fucking-ly. He'd committed. Part B achieved. Now for part C: make damn sure he was aware of it as I was.
"Are you going to spank me, Daddy?" I asked, my voice suddenly small, with none of the sass I'd given him just a moment prior.
"You're damn right I am."
"On my bare ass again?"
"I'm sure as hell not doing it through your shorts, young lady."
Perfect. "Yes, Daddy."
I untied the knot on my shirt. I knew I didn't need to do this. I knew he knew I didn't need to do this; I figured he wouldn't stop me. Not now. He didn't.
I unbuttoned it slowly, slipped it from my arms, and let it fall to the floor.
My shorts were next. I flicked open the button on the front, then met his eyes. "I'm very sorry, Daddy. I'll take my punishment like a good girl."
I turned away from him, pushing the shorts slowly down my legs, bending at the waist, keeping my legs straight. He didn't say anything. I let them fall once they were past my knees and straightened again.
There was one more little button I needed to push. I looked at him over my shoulder. "Please may I keep my panties on, Daddy?"
"No." It was so husky, so primal, it was almost a growl. Fucking delicious.
I faced away again, reaching up to unhook my bra. Again, totally redundant. Again, I knew he wouldn't stop me. He wanted me naked. I wanted to be naked. We were on the same page now. He wouldn't be able to deny it after this.
Besides, he'd said I had perfect breasts.
My fingers in the waistband of my panties. Had anyone ever lowered underwear as slowly as I did then? I didn't know, but if they had, they had the balance of a dancer and the self-control of a monk. I was neither, but I was motivated. I wanted my daddy's lust to grow to where he could no longer deny it.
At last, the panties fell to the floor, and I straightened slowly, turning to face him, as nude as I had been in my room with him earlier. Mere hours before.
His eyes roamed my body, and all I saw was hunger. No guilt at all. Perfect.
"On your lap, Daddy?" I asked, softly. Even my phrasing had been deliberate; it's amazing how much time you had to plan during a four-hour party.
"Yes."
I'd said 'on', not 'over', and he hadn't caught it. I hadn't thought he would; I wondered how much of his blood was still in his brain at this point. Hopefully not much.
I stepped toward him, each movement deliberate; the way I ran my hands up my body, the way I shook my head slightly, freeing my hair loose down my back; the way each leg crossed over the other, like a runway model, never actually showing him a glimpse of my pussy. Oh yes, Milly dear, I do know how to tease boys. One boy anyway. One man. My Daddy.
But when I reached him, I didn't lie across his lap like he'd asked. No, this was also part of my plan. Oh, he could spank me if he wanted to -- I was pretty sure that, by now, he wanted to -- but if he was going to do it, he could do it my way.
Looking right at me.
I placed one hand on his strong shoulder for support, then I slipped a knee to the side of his lap, and the other I lifted and let fall the other side. I straddled him, my thighs spread wide and open, and I let both hands press against his firm chest. Fuck, but he was built well, my daddy. I could see why Mom liked him so much. Why had it taken me so long to see him like this?
I was kneeling over him, looking down at him, and that didn't feel right. I lowered, slowly, until my bare ass was resting on his thighs, and our faces were nearly level. Our lips were almost touching. The look in his eyes was one of such hunger that I wondered as to the beast I was in the process of unleashing. But I didn't want there to be any doubt, and this was the only way I knew to make it obvious, to make it so that no one could deny it. How we would both be sure.
My lips brushed his, and I whispered to him, "Do you want to spank me, Daddy?"
A growl was the only response I got, but then his arm snaked around my waist, so fast I wouldn't have been able to move if I'd wanted to. I so didn't want to. He pulled me hard against him, and I gasped at the sensation of it. Then his other hand came down on my ass, and I gasped again.
"Yes... spank me, Daddy." I couldn't help but think I'd heard Mom say those words, not just a day ago. The thought sent a thrill through me.
He released my waist even as his hand came down on my ass again, and as my body jerked at the contact, his free hand came up and gripped my breast, squeezing it. I cried out. Not from the pain -- although it did hurt, a little bit -- but from the recognition that we'd finally crossed a line that couldn't merely be dismissed as a father disciplining his errant child.
"Oh fuck... do you like spanking me, Daddy?" Mom had said that too. The words had been seared into my brain.
"You know I do, you little slut." And that had been his reply. How far we'd come, and how fast.
But it was me, now, not Mom.
"Your slut, Daddy," I whispered to him. "No one else's. Just yours."
He growled again, and with one hand gripping my breast and the other pushing down on the top of my ass, he pulled my body against his. My naked pussy was pressed against the lump in his jeans, a lump that was the proof, if needed, that Daddy liked spanking me.
My plan had worked. The only problem was, when I'd made it, I'd only gotten this far. I didn't know what would happen next, only that I'd have no control over it whatsoever. It was scary. Thrilling, yes, but fuck it was scary. Would he punish me? If he did... would I like it?
"You've been pushing me, haven't you?"
"Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry."
"Ever since yesterday morning and that bikini."
So it had been the bikini that had started all this. I knew it was all my fault. "Not quite, Daddy," I demurred.
He seemed to hesitate, surprised I hadn't immediately accepted whatever he'd said. But I felt it was time for some honesty. We'd come so far; there was no backing out now. He might as well know.
"What do you mean?"
"Well... I kinda heard you and Mom... while you thought I was outside getting some sun. I came back in, and I heard you... um..."
His lips twitched in amusement. "You heard me spanking your mother?"
"And fucking her, Daddy."
His hand landed on my ass was a slap. "You stayed to listen? You dirty little girl."
"No, Daddy, I swear... I only heard as I went past on the stairs. But... I heard her calling you 'Daddy'."
His lips twitched again. I knew he wasn't angry anymore, not that that would change anything now.
"It made me wet, Daddy," I confessed. Fuck, but I'd been dying to say that to him. I had a little body shudder right then, as I uttered those words.
"I bet it did. So, you've been pushing me since then."
"Well, um, actually... no."
He raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"The after sun was so clinical, and the car was a stupid accident," I said in a rush. "The spanking was your idea, not mine. When you put lotion on my ass you left so soon afterward, I thought you didn't see me that way. The thing with the clothes was you, not me. It was only this evening, when you said, 'Cinderella or round two', that I saw the opportunity to discover how you really saw me."
He actually smiled, a sexy, easy grin. Then raised an eyebrow, "Cinderella?"
"Back by midnight, Daddy."
"Heh. And you weren't. On purpose."
"Mmm." I wriggled my butt against his lap. "Spank me, Daddy?"
His arm came around my waist again, and he held me tightly against his body. "Oh, I will."
He spread his thighs, and in this position my ass was easy prey for his blows. I gasped with each strike, and each blow pushed me forward against him. My pussy was rubbing against his hardness, and each strike sent little tingles of pleasure through me to complement the pain. It all soon became too much, and I had to rest my forehead against his shoulder. Still he spanked me, each slap reverberating through the lounge as much as it did my body, and by now my ass was long past the stinging phase and well into the very warm phase. It was only then that I turned my head and, with each new spank, placed a little kiss against the side of his neck.
He stopped after a dozen such kisses. "That'll do for now," he said, his breathing heavy. He hadn't been able to hit me as hard as he had lying across his lap, for which I was grateful, but he'd certainly made up for it with quantity.
He pushed gently but firmly with his hands on my hips, and after a spanking like that I was in the mood to obey. Instantly. I moved with his touch and as I did he spread his thighs wider, letting me slip to the floor between his knees.
"Show me how you thank your daddy," he said, and I knew exactly what that meant. We were well past any pretense now.
I knelt up, reaching for the buckle of his belt, and it took me a moment to work it loose. He just sat there, watching me, that same heat in his eyes that had aroused me the very first time I'd seen it. At last the belt fell open and I slipped the buttons on his jeans. It didn't take long until his hard cock pushed free of its captivity; it seemed I wasn't the only one in our family that occasionally went commando.
I'd had precisely one cock between my lips prior to this moment, but there was nothing I wanted more than to taste my daddy. I lowered my mouth over him, closing my eyes and moaning as his precum flooding my senses, and I pushed down as far as I could, wanting him so badly to fill me as much as was possible. He quickly pushed against the back of my throat, and I realized I'd been too ambitious; I had to rise up, take a breath, then try again. He let me go at my own pace; aware, perhaps, that I was using him to develop my skills, and content to watch me learn. I was grateful to him for that. I knew there would come a time, soon, when he could just fuck my throat, but for the moment I wanted to learn my limits, learn how I could push further, and learn what he liked.
And fuck, but I loved the taste of him! He was so hard against my tongue, yet so soft too. Slick with my own saliva, and I couldn't get enough of that salty-sweet taste of his precum. I felt him slide his hand into my hair, gripping and twisting, and his control of me only served to reinforce what I was to him now. His obedient daughter. His obedient slut. He held my head still, my mouth just barely over the end of his cock.
"Use your hands too," he said, and then he began to fuck my mouth.
I'd known he would, of course. I just hadn't expected it quite so soon. Perhaps I hadn't learnt quickly enough, or perhaps he'd merely grown impatient. Or maybe it was something more basic than that: he'd wanted to. Whatever the reason, I slid one small hand around the base of him, and with my other I gently cupped his balls. He had told me to use both my hands, and I was willing to do whatever he asked of me. My ass burned with the spanking he had given me, my mouth and hands were full of his cock, and my pussy was soaked with my own arousal. Fuck yes, I would do whatever he asked of me.
With his hand in my hair, he began to thrust up into my mouth, the strokes short and rapid, his hips jerking beneath my hands. My hand and mouth worked together around him to provide a sleeve for his cock, stroking and sucking in unison as he fucked my mouth. And he clearly knew what he was doing, for this was easy for me. He wasn't pushing me hard, beyond the skills I had yet to develop. He never went too deep. I just had to hold myself there for him, be the hole for him to use, and I was so willing to do that. He could use any part of me he wished, and secretly I was delighted that he was starting with my mouth, because fuck, did I mention how much I loved the taste of him?
It wasn't just the taste, either. It was the feel of his hardness, pushing itself between my lips and over my tongue, again and again and again and again, the smooth slickness of his cock, the head of him against my tongue, covered in that delicious flavor of his pre-cum, and the sensation of being able to please him as he wished me to. I closed my eyes and moaned around him, as he used his new slut daughter as he wished.
I felt his balls tighten in my gentle grip, and at the same time I heard him grunt. It was the only warning I got before his cock spurted and pulsed in my mouth, and then he was holding my head to him, thrusting no longer, just the head of his cock between my lips as he filled my mouth with his cum with spurt after spurt. I could feel the thick, creamy, salty liquid spray across my tongue, immediately filling my senses in a way I'd never dreamed. It was everything, that moment; being used by him for the very first time, that point of no return, that total acceptance of what I was to him now. I swallowed slowly, savoring the moment that his cum slipped down my throat and into my stomach, coming to rest inside my body. And as I swirled my tongue around him, ensuring I had captured every drop, I made myself a promise: I would have more of his cum inside me before this first load had been absorbed into me. I would have his cum inside me at all times, every day, from this point forward.f he'd let me.
And hell, if he didn't... I suppose I could always do something that merited a spanking.
He ran his fingertips lightly over my cheek, gazing into my eyes as he did so. "Bedtime," he said softly.
I let his cock slip from my lips, giving it a final kiss. "Yes, Daddy."
He gave my hair an affectionate tussle, then pushed himself up off the sofa, swinging a leg over me where I knelt on the carpet. "Up you get, Bubs. It's late. Bed."
"Yes, Daddy," I said again, and slowly pushed myself to my feet. I didn't want to leave him yet, but I wasn't about to disobey either.
I made my way to the stairs and he was right behind me. With me a few steps ahead of him, I was sure he had a very good view of my well-spanked behind.
And to think all of this had come just from wearing that bikini out. The one Mom had said I could only wear around the house. Hell, I'd never need to wear it anywhere else anyway; what man could ever live up to a girl's daddy?
"Good night, Daddy," I said as I reached the top of the stairs, turning right toward my bedroom.
"Wrong way," he murmured behind me.
I hesitated for barely a moment, before doing a swift one-eighty and heading for his bedroom instead. Well, Mom wasn't here, and someone had to look out for him.
I slipped beneath the covers, taking the side that Mom usually took. That seemed appropriate. Meanwhile, he stripped off his clothes and took a brief shower in the ensuite, padding back in naked and slightly damp a few minutes later.
"If it wasn't so late, I'd fuck you," he said wearily as he climbed into the bed. He slid an arm around my waist and pulled me roughly against his body. "But it is, I'm exhausted, and those little blue pills take too long to work. Sleep now."
I snuggled in against him, plenty content. I had the taste of him in my mouth and the promise of more to come. "Yes, Daddy."
*
He was on the phone when I padded down naked into the kitchen for breakfast. I'd intended to wake up before him and make him some bacon and eggs (which I just knew he loved), but I'd slept so well in my daddy's bed that I hadn't even woken when he'd left.
He put his hand over the mouthpiece and stage-whispered, "Coffee."
"Yes, Daddy," I said, smiling.
He swatted my bare ass as I passed, making me jump.
"I'm glad it's going so well," he said to whomever he was talking to. "And we've had a pretty interesting couple of days here, too." Mom. Presumably. Otherwise he was about to overshare in the most interesting of ways. I assumed he wasn't going to tell Mom what we'd been up to either.
I pulled down a coffee cup and checked the filter. It was still hot, coffee ready to go. I knew how he liked it: cream and sugar. The sugar was on the side, right next to the salt. I took a teaspoon from the drawer.
"Hmm? Oh, well, do you remember what we talked about right before you left? ...No, the other thing. ...No the other, other thing....Yep. ...Yep. ...Yep, that too. ...'Yes shit', actually." He was grinning as he listened.
That was an interesting-sounding conversation. It carried a surprisingly ominous note to it. For me, that is. I stirred carefully, added in the cream, dinged the teaspoon on the side then handed him the coffee cup with a smile.
"She's here with me now, and let's just say she's already earned her next spanking for not waking me up properly."
Ah. That was a problem for a number of reasons. It was a problem because he'd just told Mom what we'd been doing. I guess we'd fix that one when she got back. It was also a problem because it meant I hadn't woken him up the way he liked... and then that was suddenly obvious. Well, I knew what to do for tomorrow morning. Just had to make sure I woke before him.
And lastly, it was a problem because it meant I was due another spanking. That would've been less of a problem if I hadn't already taken care of that little detail, with the judicious addition of three teaspoons of salt instead of one teaspoon of sugar. Oops.
I edged toward the kitchen door, just as he took a sip.
"Yeuughh!" he said, or something that sounded approximately like it. "You little bitch, Emma! Honey, I have to go; our daughter has just earned another spanking. You might need to give her a talking to when you get home... Oh I will, don't worry... Love you too, babe."
He stared at me and slowly put the coffee cup down on the side. "Emma. Sofa, now."
I looked him up and down. "Hmm. I think... maybe... you'll have to catch me, first."
And I turned and ran.
For the stairs.
Hell, if I was due a double spanking, I was headed for his bedroom. For his bed, specifically.
It seemed the best place to hide.