The Daddy Games

by Adrian Amos

  All of us except Darcy, whose confidence and poise is unnatural. She came to win, and nothing's going to distract her from that.

  When she braces herself to take off running, I do the same, intent on making the most of my effort. But like a twinge I can't let go, I already know my fate in this first game.

  The gun cocks and fires, a loud reverberation flying down the plains.

  We take off, most of the girls keeping ranks as we all seem to have the same level of fitness. All but Darcy, who takes off like a cheetah down the track.

  Witnessing that burst of speed has already sealed my fate. At the very least, she'll make it first, but since this is all based on an orgasm, if I just make good time—make good on daddy as soon as I get there—I might stand a chance.

  My lungs burn as I curve around the large circular coliseum. Close enough now, I can hear the crowd inside the building. A hum of noise carries through and reminds me what I'm in for when I get inside.

  I actually make good time against the rest of the girls, staying between second and fourth as I make my way through the obstacle course. There's climbing, jumping, swinging, balancing. I make some of the stunts, but not all of them. Luckily, your only purpose is to try and make them. If you don't, you keep moving, but obviously, making the jump or balancing act is much faster than falling and having to climb your way out.

  I can barely even see Darcy ahead of me now, her long legs carrying her around the second curve of the Coliseum. I try to pick up speed, but I don't have the energy. I'm already tapped out, and I run the next few obstacles with a severely reduced stamina.

  Making the turn around the building, following the orange cones to keep on track with the obstacles, I hit the very last obstacle before the entrance. It's a rope climbing exercise.

  I can see into the entryway of the Coliseum as I make my way onto the ropes. Darcy's already into the Coliseum, galloping toward the finish line. The crowd erupts when they see her pop out of the shadows, sending a shiver down my spine.

  Panic sets in as I realize just how far ahead she is. I latch onto the rope and pull myself up as quick as I can, but my muscles are already aching. I nearly fall a number of times, but just as bad, every yank up one of the knots leaves me exhausted, and I have to take too many breaks before I reach the top.

  Sliding down the incline, I run lazily toward the entryway, breathing hard as I carry my battered body over the dirt.

  Running into the shadowed archway, I can see Darcy and all the men sitting around her, waiting for their own girls to arrive.

  One man is standing with her—most likely her stepfather, as the man is a good four inches taller than her. As I pop out of the tunnel and get even closer—to the scattered applause of the crowd up in the seats peering down at me—what I see makes all of that seem far away.

  The scattered applause is a formality; the real show is across the stadium pit.

  Darcy is standing in the center of the circle of men, all sitting and watching, as her stepfather stands behind her. Her panties to the ground, her daddy's hips are pounding into her ass.

  She's working it more than her stepfather is, pushing hard against him as she races the clock. The closer I am, the louder she becomes, her moans carrying throughout. The crowd actually gets quiet as she gets closer to her own climax, waiting with bated breath for the finish they've all came to see.

  “Yes, daddy, yes!” she calls out. “Fuck me, fuck me hard!”

  I stumble across the finish line and immediately sink to my knees. My face is burning, my lungs expended entirely. I look up, my stepfather rushing over to me.

  “Come on, babygirl, come on. Stand up.”

  He grabs my elbow, but I don't budge. “I'm sorry, daddy,” I say, my breathing ragged. “I need a second.”

  But a second is too long because Darcy's pushed her father back into his chair. Climbing on top of him, the tall woman positions his cock under her, and I see it all in its full glory. Only ten feet away from me, her huge daddy's thick cock slides deep into her, provoking a moan from both of us.

  Holy shit, that looked so good, I could feel it in my own pussy when she gets stretched apart.

  Getting a second wind, I stand to my feet and push daddy back into his chair. “Hurry, daddy.”

  Daddy removes his shorts. For some reason, I don't even think about the crowd. I can't even hear the cheer that explodes when my panties fall to the floor.

  All I can think about is Darcy beating me, and the sight of daddy's cock when he pulls it out of his underwear.

  He's already at full mast, probably turned on by watching Darcy getting slammed by her own daddy. If anything, it's to my advantage, as I don't have to wait for him to get ready.

  I climb onto daddy backward, straddling his big cock as I guide it to my entrance. I sit down on him, his girth splitting me open easily. I'm wet on the arousal of watching Darcy's back writhe as she grinds her father.

  Placing my hands on daddy's knees, I drop down on him, stuffing his cock all the way in, filling me entirely on his meat. I let out a deep groan, my eyes shut closed as the pressure overwhelms me.

  Slowly, as I adapt to the sharp sensation, my hips begin to grind back and forth. I open my eyes and Darcy's staring back at me, having turned around on her daddy's cock to look me right in the face.

  The control of her body is so fine-tuned. The way her stomach undulates, her lower back bending, her hips bucking, she's mastered riding her daddy's cock to perfection.

  She smirks at me, leans back against her daddy, whispers something, and he proceeds to pull her shirt over her head. Exposing her tits, he cups them in his large hands, squeezing and playing with her nipples.

  I try to keep up with her pace, but the girl is sensuousness personified. She calls out 'daddy' over and over, drowning out my own moans, overpowering me in ways I can't compete with.

  Her daddy pinches her nipples and proceeds to pound her aggressively from underneath. Her tits flop in the air as her body bounces up and down on his hips. His cock slams into her with an erotic, punctuating sound, and eventually—as I struggle to gain any momentum with my exhausted body—her moans become screams.

  An orgasm rips through her, and as she lies back into her daddy, her pussy twitches. The pink flesh opens and closes, clutching her daddy as her muscles seize up. Her thighs rebound off his lap, bouncing with energy as pulses pore through her. Her back makes waves as she rocks into him, a satisfied smile across her face as she lets out giggles of laughter.

  My blush comes not from daddy's shaft still inside me, but from Darcy's brazenness. She went the distance, and I couldn't follow. The fact that she wouldn't hesitate to get completely undressed in front of the screaming crowd tells me the only thing I need to know:

  This girl's going to win this whole thing if I don't let go.

  A referee comes up over to her and raises one of her limp arms. “We have a winner. Darcy!”

  The crowd cries out in ecstasy like their own orgasm just unleashed. It's a strange, perverted situation.

  As much as I want to hit my own orgasm, my legs are killing me. I have to give up, standing with a struggle from daddy's lap as my legs nearly give out. Daddy trades places with me, sitting me down so I can catch whatever breath is left in me.

  Darcy passes by me, and I hear her say, “Daddy, this is too easy. I hope you like coming because when you get that procedure, I'm going to ride you for months.”

  Her daddy slaps her ass as they head off to the locker rooms, and my own helps me put my panties back on.

  I grit my teeth. My apology is more anger than sorrow, “I'm sorry, daddy.”

  He smiles. “There are a lot more games, babygirl. You'll get another chance.”

  I nod, and daddy helps carry me to the locker room.

  The most painful thing has to be the silence that's fallen over the spectators. Chunks of the crowd are heading out the doors, and as more girls pour in through the tunnel entryway, scattered applause turns quickly to abs
olute silence.

  There's no reward for the late, nor appreciation for coming second, and as I enter the locker rooms, a shadow descends over me. I know the only way to get daddy to put his seed in me is to beat Darcy.

  GAME 2

  “Damn it,” I whisper, “another obstacle course?”

  From our prep station, I can see into the middle of the Coliseum. A number of objects low to the ground—bars, swings, mud pits—are arrayed across the entire arena. The ground is muck, dirt that's been hosed down into a dirty mess.

  The people in the stands are slowly trickling in, preparing the start of the second game.

  The little redhead, Ellen, cheerfully chimes in, “Yep. It's just the first two games, though. Get through these, and we'll be fine.”

  “God, my legs are still killing me from yesterday.” I push my fingertips into my thighs, releasing the tension and sharp pain from my workout. I glance over at Darcy, who's stretching her arms over her chest, no worse for wear.

  Ellen shrugs. “I don't think that's going to matter on this one. If it's like last year”—she stands on her tippy toes to see over the gaggle of contestants—“which it looks like it is, then we'll be doing this one on our hands and knees. I wonder what the final act will be?”

  “Hands and knees?”

  “Just wait.” She glances at Darcy. “Maybe I should stretch too.” She immediately starts throwing her limbs around, pulling them in every direction. Her motions are nearly comical, sloppy and unrefined, but I follow suit, not wanting to be left out and caught by surprise.

  She's been here before, so she's the last person I would doubt.

  When the Matron appears, she and two men—one of them the blond man from before—are carried out on seats by a cadre of half-dressed men like Roman royalty. The crowd in the stands erupts for the trio, knowing the games are about to be underway.

  The stewards sit the Matron's chair down, setting her in front of the group of girls.

  “Congratulations, girls,” she says, majestic and snooty in tone, “on completing your first game yesterday. We're proud of you for trying to better yourselves”—she smirks—“and making it so entertaining in the process.

  “This game will be another obstacle course, but the focus will not be endurance. It will be submission. On hands and knees”—she points to the course—“you will make your way through the impediments to reach the men in your lives.”

  A half-naked man walks around, handing collars out to the girls.

  “Don your subservient collar.” The black studded choker is tight as I click it around my neck. “When you reach your man, you will have a referee watching you. You must get your man erect, and deep throat him—your lips touching his base—ten times for three seconds each. Vomiting will disqualify you from the rest of the games.”

  “Aww, that's the final act?” Ellen cries out. “That's no fair. My daddy's got a huge cock!”

  A bunch of the girls laugh, and it takes a stern look from the Matron to calm everyone down again.

  “From here on out, not every game will be decided necessarily by quantity, but the quality of your actions. You may be the fastest, but if you do not preserve the spirit of the Games, your actions will mean nothing. Three judges: Myself, Mr. Dervell, and Mr. Morris”—she nods to the blond man with the final name—“will determine who performs the theme of the game the best. Vomiting is outside the realm of the spirit.

  “Submission is the purpose of today's game. Make it through the course as quickly as possible, but you must serve in a way befitting your relinquishing of independence. Along with vomiting, if you stand at any point or remove your hands from the ground, you will be disqualified.

  “Your men have also been instructed and warned not to touch themselves. That's your job as submissives. If they do, you will be disqualified.

  “You are hungry sluts, remember that.” Her tone is both comforting and dismissive. “As long as you keep that in mind, you'll be fine.”

  With that strange pronouncement, her crew of men acting as slaves carries her and the other two judges off to their box up in the arena stands.

  One of the referees ushers us over, and we take our place at the starting line, all of us dropping to our hands and knees.

  The gun sounds, and we take off.

  Surprisingly, even though my thighs are still killing me from the previous day, the pain isn't as bad down on my knees. The soft muck underneath us offers a soft landing, which gives me a greater sense of confidence I might be able to actually win this one.

  Hitting the first set of obstacles, it's a wire trap followed by a prone crawl through mud. The wire trap requires a great deal of bending and arching to get through the tangle of rope carrying over the pit. The crawl is much easier, as I have to simply get down on my chest and scrape through with arms, which are not yet exhausted.

  I come out of the other side slathered in a thick cake of mud, clinging to my body and making me feel fifteen pounds heavier.

  I'm ahead of the pack slightly, and when I look back, Darcy is nowhere to be seen.

  I crawl ahead on my knees until I hit the third obstacle, which is a bunch of boards over a mud pool. It's like climbing along rafts on a river, and every movement makes it seem like the board is going to tip over and send me sinking in the molasses.

  I hear a splash behind me. Someone fell in. God, I hope it's Darcy. I would love to see the look on her face as she watches my ass wiggle across the pond.

  The fourth obstacle is another wire trap, but this time, I slip up a little, getting caught on a set of ropes. It takes me only a moment to free myself, but to my side, I see Ellen catch up to me, her small body lithe through all the bends and turns.

  We get out of the obstacle at the same time, and each of us picks up the pace, shuffling on all fours as we stare each other down, racing to the last obstacle.

  Or, to say, racing toward our daddies.

  All the men are sitting in chairs in a semi-circle, much like the last race, but this time, they're already naked. A line of cocks—floppy, since they're not allowed to touch themselves—stares us both down as we race toward our respective dicks.

  My stepfather's calling out. “Come on, Megan, you can do it!”

  I reach him, his legs spread open for me. When my head gets to his lap, I realize I need to keep my hands pinned to the ground before I do something stupid, making sure I don't accidentally reach for him.

  No, I have to pleasure him entirely with my mouth!

  I lift my head and take his cock in my mouth, sucking on his softness with tight lips.

  “Yeah, babygirl,” he says, his head leaning back. “Suck that dick.” The growl in his voice is erotic, a side of daddy I've never heard before.

  A dominant, powerful side of him.

  I bob my head back and forth, running my lips over his shaft, bringing his cock to life. I run my tongue around him, licking circles around his head, flicking over his opening. He groans, and with it comes a pulse to his cock, strengthening it.

  A referee is nearby, watching it all happen, keeping close attention on daddy's hardness.

  I lift his cock with my tongue and drag it back into my mouth, releasing a moan into his body. He pulses again, hardening once more as blood flows through him.

  Glancing over at Ellen's stepfather, I see she wasn't lying. He's nearly as big as Darcy's stepfather, a behemoth of a man. But whereas Darcy is comparable in size to her stepfather, Ellen is a good foot shorter than hers, and when I look at his cock, I smile to myself.

  It's huge, and as Ellen hardens him to the point of consuming him, it's easy to see the poor girl is going to have trouble taking him all the way down her throat.

  My own daddy is big, but for once, I feel lucky he's not that big!

  I pull off him with a loud pop of my lips.

  The referee looks closely, signals to the judges, and shouts, “He's hard!”

  I take that as my cue and engulf daddy's engorged cock. I push him all the w
ay to the back of my throat, holding him there as I gag on his length.

  One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand!

  I pull off him, gasping for air, his cock having completely blocked my breathing.

  The referee watching over me calls out, “One!”

  I have to take a moment to gather myself, but as I do, another referee calls out, “He's hard!”

  Ellen dives deep on her stepfather's cock, taking him in with greater alacrity than I could've imagined.

  She might be better at this than I thought! I can't take her lightly.

  By this time, other girls have arrived to service their men, and I resume my progress toward victory.

  I draw daddy's cock to the back of my throat, inhaling him as I keep my hands pushed to the ground, fighting my own urge to push off his thighs and free myself from his thickness.

  The ref continues to call out the number of times I've gone down on daddy.

  Ellen, though, is not far behind, her number called out only a few seconds after mine.

  It's much harder to resist the urge to push off the more I drop down on him. The gagging is awful after the fifth descent, and every time, I have to clench my arms to keep from lifting them and disqualifying myself.

  By this time, I've already heard a number of girls get called out for lifting their hands, losing the game and being disqualified.

  One of those is not Ellen, though.

  By the seventh swallowing of daddy's cock, he's straining from his arousal, which increases his girth even more, making each swallow that much harder.

  On my eighth drop down, I push down too quickly, not having caught my breath properly. It forces me to pull up early.

  “Megan is still on seven!” the referee calls out.

  Shit.

  “Eight!” Ellen's ref shouts.

  I consume him, this time keeping my cool and allowing daddy's dick to slide down my throat for long enough. It opens up my throat, forcing my narrow passageway to expand uncomfortably. My ref calls out eight, and I rush to my next swallow, trying hard to get back ahead of Ellen.