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)
“Good girl… good girl,” Daddy Phil murmured. “Such a sweet pussy… Daddy’s going to come… Daddy’s going to come so hard…”
His cock flashed in and out of me. I wanted to close my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at the bar set into my wall, or the chain that secured me to it, or the cuffs around my wrists, but I couldn’t seem to shut out those reminders of what had happened to me. Daddy Phil’s big, strong hands tightened on my body, in nearly the same places Daddy Jacob had grasped when he had been the daddy with his cock in my poor little pussy. My wolf daddy had my left knee nearly to my chest, and his fingers gripped my collarbone so firmly that it made me whimper all on its own, even as I sobbed with each deep thrust of his rigid penis.
My pussy belonged to my daddies. That was what had happened to me. The faceless corporate justice system had delivered me to two strong men… two gorgeous, brave, strong men… two daddies who knew what to do with a girl like me.
My back arched hard against Daddy Phil’s rock-hard chest and his taut abs, and that sensation sent me over the edge into yet another helpless, screaming climax, just as I felt him explode inside me. His lap jerked against my bruised bottom, and his enormous cock pulsed as he filled me with my second helping of my daddies’ semen.
“There you go,” he breathed into my ear. “There you go, sweetheart. Take Daddy’s come in your little pussy.”
“Oh, God,” I whispered.
My breath still came in little pants. As the arousal began to fade from my nervous system, the discomfort grew. When Daddy Phil pulled his penis out, I whimpered. I knew, with a hot blush, that I wouldn’t be able to walk normally today.
“You can take the punishment panties off,” said Daddy Jacob. “They need to be washed by hand, so you can do that today, in the bathroom sink.”
I rolled onto my back, wincing at the soreness. To my distress, even with all the lingering pain my daddies had left, I still felt a little jolt of returning need, just at the sight of my two looming, naked daddies standing over me, looking down at me with their serious eyes.
I felt my forehead crease at the idea of being made to wash my wanton pussy juices out of my underwear, but I nodded at Daddy Jacob. My eyes flicked down to my daddies’ penises, now soft but still huge-looking, hanging down between their massive thighs, and the fire of arousal got a bit higher again. My mouth twisted to the side. I couldn’t deny it, though I definitely didn’t like it: my daddies’ dominant fucking had awakened me to a part of myself I had never imagined.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said.
The next few days went by very quickly, it felt like. I got used to working naked in the office, and I started to really enjoy the crossover times, when everyone was awake—my daddies and me, and Ashley and her daddies. Ashley and I didn’t talk about much besides pop culture and our school days—we especially didn’t talk about what it meant that we had both become sex toys for these demanding men—but I could tell that she knew, just as I did, that we shared a very deep bond, even if we never mentioned it.
Both of us had done bad things, and both of us needed our daddies to help us find our way forward. It didn’t matter, somehow, that a big part of what tied us together was so very shameful: I could see in Ashley’s eyes that at least between the two of us, that mortifying reality, of our crazy-seeming need to be severely punished and brutally fucked until we became our daddies’ little ladies, didn’t have to feel all that embarrassing.
My daddies fucked me every day, and they held to that humiliating guiding principle of only putting their cocks in me when they had rendered my backside an agony. I didn’t get another belt whipping, but I did get spanked with the paddle or one of my daddies’ hands every afternoon when they came back from their rounds. I knew that Ashley got pretty much the same thing each morning: when I got up and joined the rest of the team in the living room and kitchen area, I could always see how red her adorable bottom-cheeks, fuller than mine, looked in the lingerie her daddies allowed her.
She also looked happy, when she wasn’t trying to put on a pouty face for her daddies—something I found myself also doing, as if in a reflexive attempt to get them to go a little easier on my poor ass when they put me over their knees each afternoon. I figured it must mean that, also like my red-haired colleague, I must have a little smile on when I forgot to frown.