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AUTHOR’S NOTE: I hadn’t originally planned a second part, but a reader convinced me more was needed, and when I began to think about it, it just created itself, practically. Thanks for the inspiration, Cassidy. Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading, and civil comments welcome.
PART TWO – The next morning, and how it is now.
I padded on bare feet through the silent kitchen. Dad was out already, playing golf I think; I had heard him stirring around the house. I’d stayed quiet in my bed, closing my eyes every time he passed my door in the hallway, in case he looked in on me, terrified of seeing him, of what had happened, of what might happen. I made a pot of coffee, careful to be very quiet lest I wake my mother. I was afraid to face her, too.
I eyed the tall chair at the breakfast nook and considered it. But no, I knew my ass was too sore for that. The immediate searing pain had dissipated soon after the spanking had stopped last night, but it was still very sore; I had checked it in the mirror in my room before coming downstairs. Still red, and some bruising, including a few shaped like Dad’s spread fingers. I touched the flesh gingerly, stroking my fingers over the thin satin pajama shorts I wore, remembering. My pussy leaked as the memories flooded through me. My clit still throbbed, despite feeling raw from all the rubbing I had done last night. And while I was taking inventory, that thing under my tongue was sore, too, from stretching across my lower teeth. Remembering what I had done with my tongue made me flush with dread and excitement.
Embarrassment took me, and I blushed to my toes, I think. My skin prickled it got so hot. I tried to process what had happened- no, WHY it had happened. God, I was so ashamed, and terrified of my body’s craving, my mental weakness and surrender. Everything had turned so quickly. I had gotten careless in my voyeurism, and I had paid the price.
And God help me, I had wallowed in the payment. One moment I was watching their game and the next moment I was in it, the center of it, Mom scolding, Dad punishing. And me; submitting.
The coffee finished brewing and I made a cup, turning to look longingly at the chair, and leaned against the counter instead. I nearly spilled my coffee when I sprung off; even that was too much for my tender ass cheeks. I sighed, and stood, and sipped. And while I was still alone, I considered.
Eventually, I knew, Mom would come downstairs. What then? Would she pretend it didn’t happen? Would we chat politely, as mother and daughter, ignoring the elephant in the room as I fought to deny my throbbing clit and leaking cunt? Would she punish me again, driving the lesson home?
Or would she give me what I really deserved? What I wanted, I admitted to myself, tightening my grip on my coffee mug. My body suddenly felt like it might fly away from me, exploding in a body sized tremor, and I held the cup for safety, as though it were an anchor to keep me grounded. Would she use me, talk down to me, make me do things? Would she see through my resistance, as she had last night, see the real me inside, the me that wanted and desired and needed?
A girl can dream.
Lost in my thoughts, I nearly leaped out of my skin when I heard her voice.
“Good morning, Jules.”
I felt a little of the coffee splash over the side of the mug, running across my gripping fingers. I looked down to see a few caramel colored drops on the floor near my bare feet. In the cup, the coffee rippled in circles inside the cup as I trembled, and I struggled for breath as I tried to steady my nerves, staring at the cup, my hair hanging in my face. My world shrunk to the rippling coffee, the warm cup, my shaking hands. And under my long, loose tee shirt, my nipples hardened and jutted from my breasts and my crotch was on fire, liquid spilling from me. I thought I could smell my arousal over the coffee scent.
“Well? Nothing to say?”
I couldn’t turn to face her, couldn’t look up; frozen to the spot, my head down.
“Cat got your tongue?” she asked, and I heard her move behind me, and I inhaled sharply as she neared, but she passed and sat in one of the tall chairs. “Get me a coffee, if you’ve got nothing to say.” It would be this way; then.
A wave of relief swept thought me at the chance of something to do, an activity to distract me, and the opportunity to do as she ordered. I put my own coffee on the counter and prepared a mug for her; when it was done I carried it carefully to the table and set it down before her, never looking up, not looking at her, afraid of what I would feel if my eyes met hers. I stepped back from the table, but she grabbed my forearm and held me.
“I said good morning, Julianne,” she stated firmly. Her fingers were warm and tight on my arm.
“G- G- good morning,” I managed. “Mom,” I added.
“Come here,” she said, pulling me by my arm as I shuffled closer, heat spreading from my pussy through casino oyna my body. Oh, please, please, I thought. Please don’t. Oh, please, do. Her hand released me and moved to the side of my head. “Look at me, Julianne,” she whispered, but there was no gentleness in her words.
I lifted my head, and her hand brushed the hair from my face, tucking it behind an ear. My eyes travelled up to see her face, looking at mine, evaluating and assessing.
“You’re far too pretty to hide your face,” she said. There was only a little tenderness in her voice, but it was enough to touch me, and I melted with her admiration. “Don’t ever hide it from me, understand?” My eyes met hers and I felt myself falling into them, seeing the look on her face, the recognition, the KNOWING I had seen last night. “I want to be able to see your face, always,” she said. Then her fingers twined themselves in the hair at my temple and I watched her eyes brighten and darken at the same time as her fingers tightened, gripping my hair, and then she was pulling my head to her. I gasped for breath as she pulled me to her, and my eyes closed as I felt her lips on mine, her tongue pressing into my mouth, taking my kiss from me.
And I gave it to her. Oh, I kissed her, I tasted her toothpaste, felt her wet tongue against mine, dancing and teasing, exploring my mouth, delving into my desire and inhaling my willing submission to her. I heard a moan and realized it was my own, and I struggled for breath as I salivated on her lips, my mouth as wet as my pussy. I felt her lips form a smile on mine, and I knew that she knew. She had me.
And I wanted her to. Wanted her to know me, to have me for her own.
“I always want to see your pretty face,” she repeated. “At my breast, sucking my nipples,” she added hotly, kissing my cheek, my neck, my ear. “I want to see it between my legs, stare into your eyes as you lick me,” she whispered adoringly, “I want to see it with your mouth stuffed with your father’s cock, eyes desperate and pleading as he chokes you,” she added, raining kisses on me. Her hand was in my hair, stroking. “I want to see your eyes open as you cum for me.”
My entire body trembled, and I moaned.
She pushed me back sternly, and sneered. “You slut,” she spit, “kissing your own mother.” The hand that was in my hair went quickly between my legs and pressed the loose fabric between my wet labia, forcing into me. “God, you’re on fire, you disgusting cunt,” she admonished, her words making me quiver. Her fingers burrowed inside me, stopped only by the crotch of my pajama shorts, her upturned palm pressing my clit, and I stood there, looking at her and trembling as an orgasm grew inside me, threatening to explode. Then she pulled away, leaving me hanging on the edge, panting with desire.
She picked up her coffee cup and sipped. “Do it yourself, cunt,” she said, and sipped again. I froze and stared at her. She put the cup down and angled her head at me. “Well? Are you deaf? Get busy; get your fingers in your pussy and make yourself cum, now!”
My mouth opened in shock, but my hands were already between my legs, one slipping inside the waistband as the other pulled them down, and I stood there as she watched me, my pajama shorts at the bottom of my thighs as one hand held my pussy open and the other pushed two fingers inside, the juices spilling out. My eyes were locked on her; she watched as I fingered my cunt at her command, and I breathed heavily, panting at my weakness, my willingness. I gasped as the heel of my hand pressed against my clit, and moaned loudly as the fingers forced themselves deeper inside. I watched my mother as her eyes narrowed and left my face and stared at my hands, busy at my pussy. My hard little button surged against my hand. My mother was staring at my bared cunt, and I felt shame rush through me as I did her bidding.
She lifted her mug casually. “Filthy perverted slut, you are,” she sneered derisively, and my pulse rushed at her words. “Finger your cunt, slut. Fuck yourself, right here in the kitchen. Look at you, your pants pulled down, showing Mommy your wet cunt!” My urges grew with her taunting and I felt my climax, building all morning, rush furiously inside me. “Cum for me, slut, make your cunt cum for Mommy!”
My mouth opened and my head fell back and I exploded in glorious electrifying delirium, spasms shaking my legs as I stood there, pajama shorts down at my ankles now, knees apart, juices spilling over my fingers. I clenched my thighs, trying to stop my own hand, but kept rubbing myself as I came. I began sputtering noises, my tits shaking on my chest, and still my hand fucked me, independent of my will. My climax receded, then climbed again, and I dropped to my knees, spread my thighs and in glorious overwhelming release squirted cum out of my cunt. My eyes filled with glaring lights until I couldn’t see, and I lost control of my body, shaking and trembling as my body released its fluid.
I slot oyna was pulled from my ecstasy by her hand, grabbing my hair as I collapsed forward, and felt her pushing me, face first, into the floor. “Fucking slut!” she bellowed, “you fucking squirted on me!” My face was pressed sideways on the floor in a pool of my squirt. Her feet were wet in the corner of my vision. “Look at the fucking mess you made!” She smeared my face in the cooling pool. “Clean it up, cunt!” she shouted, pressing my face down, and without thinking my tongue emerged, lapping my juices from the floor. When she pressed harder I pursed my lips and sucked the pool from the floor. I felt delirious and complete.
After a few seconds she released me, and helped me sit up. Still shaking, I sat uneasily on the floor, legs spread, shorts tangled around one ankle, my sore butt cheeks squirming in my cooling puddle. I was shamed and embarrassed and oh, so, horny, despite my climax. Mom dropped to her knees next to me and cradled my head against her chest. “My lovely, lovely, Jules,” she cooed, her chin on top of my head, and held me there until the fire in me subsided and my breathing eased. I wrapped my arms around her and settled my face against her breast, feeling the warmth from her body. Her comforting hands stroked me. “My wonderful Jules,” she whispered, “my lovely, sexy girl,” and I snuggled against her. “My deviant slut cunt of a daughter,” she said with the same level of affection and love.
She held me for a few more minutes before helping me to my feet. She kissed me again, not like last time, but lightly, small pecks on my cheeks, at the corners of my lips, making small sounds as her mouth travelled my face, adoring me. “Go take a shower; clean yourself up,” she whispered. “I’ll come and see you there.”
I was languishing under the hot spray when I heard the door open. I could see her shadow through the curtain as she busied herself at the sink. “We have to prepare you, get you ready.” I heard her fumbling through the cabinets as I turned, allowing the warm water to sooth my aching butt cheeks, the needle spray massaging my wounded ass. Then the curtain pulled aside.
We spent the next two hours together, in and out of the shower. She guided and directed me lovingly through my grooming and preparations, from hair removal to enemas, tossing tender teasing comments to me during the process, telling me Daddy likes his ass smooth and pretty as she applied depilatory, or how dark my mascara should be to properly streak down my face when I gagged on his cock, how pretty I looked with my fingers in my ass, and warning that my ass had to be clean so there was nothing nasty on it when he shoved it in my mouth from my ass. She fingered me to orgasm, reminding me of how good his cock felt in her ass, how I liked to see it. She made me spread my legs and piss standing in the shower while she watched, and made me kneel for her as she pissed on me, deriding me with awful names, spoken with love and admiring disdain.
I was hers, body and soul, and I welcomed the abuse at her loving hands.
Later she showed me their toy collection, forcing a few of the dildos into my mouth, gagging and choking me, forcing my throat open. I vomited, once, and she pulled my nipples so hard I cried, but my pussy gushed. She took special care to show me the giant strap on cock she would use later. “When you have your Dad’s cock up your ass, I’m going to fuck you with this in your slut cunt,” she hissed in my ear, rubbing the tip of the fat toy against my smooth shaved pussy. “I’m going to stretch you until you can take my fist, you dirty cunt.” I swooned and nearly collapsed. “I’m going to wear you on my arm like a meat puppet, baby,” she told me, “my pretty little meat puppet.”
I came, them, squirming against the tip of her toy, her other hand stroking my asshole, her nose nuzzling my ear. She kissed my cheek as the climax swept through me.
Later she dressed me in lingerie; nothing complex, just a sexy pink thong and tiny bra that presented my breasts proudly and showed my nipples through the fabric. She made me pose for pictures on her bed, touching myself, pinching my own nipples, and fingering my pussy and ass. The anticipation of Daddy putting his cock in my virgin back door swirled through my imagination, remembering Mom’s asshole stretched tightly around his shaft. She told me how pretty I was, and how nice my face would look streaked with cum. She was so calculating, so confident in her ownership of me, and I loved her for it, for knowing me, wanting me. She was brushing my hair when we heard the car pull up.
“Daddy is home, little slut,” she hissed lovingly in my ear. “Oh, you’re going to make us so proud!”
I lived in a dream as Mom presented me to Dad. Her words flowed and his eyes scoured and I stood, not hearing, not seeing, only feeling him near me. I tried to lower my head but Mom pulled my face up by my hair, and I met Dad’s eyes, seeing canlı casino siteleri the disgusted approving expression there. I wilted under his gaze, and I felt my knees go weak. Mom hissed in my ear as she watched him leer at me.
“You disgust us, you perverted cunt,” she sneered. Her tongue snaked around the curves of my ear, leaving a wet tingle. “How wonderful!” she whispered. “Tell your Daddy what you will do for us, how you prepared,” she instructed. I felt my heart leap in my chest and I swallowed hard, wanting so much to do as she said, to be obedient, to be controlled and manipulated, yet fearful of saying the words out loud. To Daddy.
“Well?” he asked expectantly. “You heard you mother. Are you going to obey?” He reached to my face, trailed the backs of his fingers up my cheek, then snaked his fingers in my hair, pulling tight and angling my head to my shoulder. Panic filled me. “Or do you need to be punished again?”
The memory of his spanking broke my hesitance and the confession of my lust spilled from me as freed doves from a cage; a joyous and beautiful litany of desire, taking flight for all the world to see.
“Oh, Daddy,” I implored, “I will do whatever you want, whatever you and Mommy desire; please, take me and do what you like, make me do terrible, nasty thing for you.” I felt a rush of relief as I spilled my desire. “I want your cock in my ass, the way you do to Mommy; I’m ready for it, all clean and no hair, the way Mommy says you like.” The words rushed out unhindered, freeing me, undurdening my desire. “Mommy helped me today, she gave me orders and I followed them all, please don’t spank me again, please. I’ll be good. I’ll suck your cock, I practiced on Mommy’s dildo, let me suck your cock, and then I’ll spread my ass for you, and you can fuck my virgin ass, like you fuck Mommy’s, please.”
He snorted a laugh and released my hair. “The way you watched us, you mean?” His eyes narrowed, focused on mine. I couldn’t look back, couldn’t meet his judgment, and dropped my eyes to my feet.
“Yes,” I said. “Like that.” I remembered Mom’s asshole, stretched open around his shaft, remembered when he finished, the drop of cum at her knot, her command, my tongue. “It was wrong, to watch, to sneak,” I confessed. “I shouldn’t have.” I lifted my face to his and took a deep breath. “I’m glad you caught me, and I deserved my punishment. I was a bad daughter.”
“You’re a filthy, perverted slut cunt,” Mom barked. Dad’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Your Mother’s right, Jules. His fingertips touched my chin and lifted my face, his eyes softer. “Isn’t she?”
I straightened my spine and stood proudly in his gaze, feeling his admiration. “Yes,” I told him. “Mom’s right, I am a perverted slut cunt. I watched you and Mom fuck, I fingered my slut pussy while I watched.” His expression didn’t change, and my determination wavered. Would he reject me? Would he deny me the chance to serve them, deem me unworthy for their abuse and love and attention. “Please,” I pleaded, “please let me be your perverted slut toy, your filthy cunt, please let me serve you and Mom in whatever way you desire…” My words choked off as grief at the fear of their abandonment swept me. I felt tears welling in my eyes and my breath hitched.
And then his lips curled at the corners, and it was like sunshine shone directly on me as he turned his head slightly to Mom and spoke. “You were right again, dear,” he snickered. “This will be wonderful.” He turned back to me. “Oh, Julianne,” he said lovingly, and I melted at his words, feeling the gentle touch of his fingers at my chin and throat. “You are a disgusting cunt.” His words dripped like honey, and I swooned. I wanted to drop to my knees, worship his cock, feel his cum on my face. I trembled, waiting for his command. I bit my lip, straining to control my urges, feeling his love and desire flowing through his fingers into me, tainted with his disdain. My pussy gushed. I was filth. I was THEIR filth.
“Her ass is ready for me?”
“Tell him, cunt,” Mom instructed.
“Yes,” I said proudly. “All the hair is removed, and Mom stretched me a little with a butt plug, to get me ready, and it’s all clean inside; she gave me enemas so there is nothing dirty inside, and so I can suck your cock after you fuck my ass.”
“Good girl. Show me.” Thrilled at being given a command to obey I felt another rush of excited shame as I turned and bent at the waist. The humiliation of exposing myself at his command swept a thrill through me as my parents’ new playground gushed and pulsed between my legs. I reached behind myself and pulled the thong to my knees and felt my face redden and flush with heat, knowing my hairless crack and twitching starfish were exposed to them. I breathed heavily through my nose, shocked at what I was doing, shocked more at wanting to be made to do it.
“Nice,” I heard him murmur, and my chest swelled with pride. “The pussy, too, I see.”
“Yes, Mommy was adamant about it.”
Mom walked around me to my head and stroked my hair. “That’s a good little cunt, Jules,” she said appreciatively, and I swelled with pride. “Finger yourself for Daddy, now,” she told me.
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