by Emily Tilton
“Now the panties, Heather,” Daddy said. “No more dawdling. Daddy wants to see your little pussy.”
“Oh, Daddy,” she said again, but something in her caught fire again, and she wanted to show her daddy the naughty place just as much as it seemed he wanted to see it. She tucked her thumbs in the stretchy waistband of the briefs and, before she could lose the wicked impulse, she pulled them down, over her thighs, past her knees, all the way to her feet where she stepped out of them. Then Heather hesitated, still bent over.
“Give them here, pumpkin,” Daddy said sternly. “I need to see just how naughty a pussy my little girl has.”
Chapter Ten
Miss Charlotte came into the Oak Street control room just as George took the panties from Heather’s trembling hand. Jane swallowed hard. Everything had gone beautifully so far, especially after the slightly worrisome dip in Heather’s arousal before her daddy’s return home. Nevertheless, to have the legendary dean there watching raised the stakes considerably.
Nor did Miss Charlotte’s first words to Jane, in the presence of Paul, the other assessor on duty, and Jim and Serena, who had come to watch Heather’s awakening despite being off duty, put Jane much at ease.
“Heather’s afternoon lost us a hundred thousand viewers,” the dean said flatly. “Media threw together a promo that seems to be working—Don’t miss the moment when full-figured Heather’s panties come down at last for Daddy, I think they called it. We got something like forty thousand back when George came home, but I don’t need to tell you how much is riding on this evening.”
“No,” Jane said, trying desperately not to sound defensive despite how very defensive she felt. “No, Miss Charlotte.”
Miss Charlotte cracked a wry smile. “But, hey, relax, Jane. I think the numbers for this morning at Number 9 will make you happy. We could afford to lose those eyes and more.”
A small wave of relief went through Jane despite her knowledge that the dean didn’t really mean to reassure her much at all. The Institute could afford practically anything, really, but Heather’s purchase price and the Oak Street brand depended on sustained growth in the interest of the dominant clients who might make the journey to the Institute’s little airfield on the Pacific coast next week for the auction.
“Yes, Miss Charlotte,” Jane said, as if she were a concubine in the main house. The dean had that effect on her assessors, especially the ones who like Jane had gotten into the business of training and selling bed girls in great part because of their own submissive needs.
She turned back to the monitors, where Heather, her arousal back down to nine, watched with furrowed brow and wrinkled nose as her daddy brought her cotton briefs closer to his face, fingering the thick stretchy fabric of the schoolgirl panties thoughtfully. George said nothing, nor did he look at his little girl as he conducted the inspection of her underwear.
Heather went back to ten. She stood with her hands at her sides balled in little fists, and now a tiny whimper came from her throat, as if in sheer erotic suspense.
Jane hit the button to toggle the comm link back on to George and Delilah, who stood vigilantly outside the bedroom door. “Ten,” she said.
Next to her, Paul said in an appreciative tone, “That girl may come just watching her daddy look at her panties.”
Jane’s chest swelled a bit with pride, and also with collegial affection. She and Paul tended to be on duty together, and they had the sort of professional rivalry that occasionally took on an edge. She could forgive every slightly snide remark, though, for the way Paul had clearly meant Miss Charlotte to hear the compliment he had just paid Jane.
“George is wonderful,” said Miss Charlotte, deflating Jane a bit. Then, “You, too, Jane.” An afterthought, maybe, Jane reflected—but still a thought.
George turned the fabric of the briefs’ gusset so that the underwear, inside out now, showed the sizable wet spot, glistening with the special sheen that only a girl’s naughtiness could give.
“I’m…” Heather whispered in a despairing tone. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Recalibrator,” Jane announced.
George smiled and looked into his little girl’s eyes, at the same time raising the panties even higher, up to his face, almost to his nose. He said gently, “I’m not sorry, pumpkin. You’re a sweet, lovely young lady. It’s time for you to learn about your body, and what it means to have a mommy and a daddy who know how to take care of their little girl.”
Heather’s respiration spiked as she watched her daddy put the briefs to his nose and draw in a deep breath.
“Oh, Daddy,” she sobbed, biting her lower lip. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, and the tingle caused by the motion made her nose twitch.
“Recalibrator, with a hard clench,” Jane said, trying to keep her own breathing in check. “She’s getting her thighs wet now.”
George’s smile broadened as he lowered Heather’s briefs a few inches. “Your little pussy smells very naughty, pumpkin. I can’t deny that. But when your daddy is the one making you feel naughty down there, it’s a good thing. It means you’re ready to play with your panties down, and you’re ready for your daddy to make you feel very good and for a man to enjoy your pussy with his hard penis. Let’s take a look. Lie down on your back, and put your knees up.”
Heather’s eyes went wide, and her lips parted. The renewed idea of this inspection, now that her daddy had made it absolutely clear that she was about to experience a sort of discipline she had never expected, through the kind of pleasure she had been taught to regard as shameful and illicit, produced another contraction between her legs. The feeling drew a whimper from her, and she did sit down, half of the movement obviously coming from the sheer wobbliness of her knees.
The change in position brought a red warning banner to the screen where her video feed appeared.
“Pre-orgasm,” Jane announced, now trying to keep both her surprise and her triumph at bay.
Miss Charlotte, standing behind Jane’s chair, chuckled. “I’ll bet that got a few buyers to clear their schedules for next weekend.”
“George,” Jane said, trusting her instincts for the first time, it seemed to her, in several hours, “go ahead and help her into position, but warn her, too.”
Heather’s daddy followed the instruction smoothly, stooping a little to take hold of his little girl’s knees and spreading them with a firm but gentle grasp as he easily moved her ample frame up the bed so that her head rested on her pillow. That drew a cry of alarm from Heather: her arousal dipped to nine, but returned instantly to a flashing ten, with the red banner also coming back.
“Recalibrator, pre-orgasm,” Jane said.
George spoke in a stern voice, regarding Heather from between the legs he held high and open. “Pumpkin, do you know what an orgasm is?”
The graph charting Heather’s vaginal muscles showed a little spike.
“Yes, sir,” the girl whimpered.
“But you’ve never had one, have you?”
“No, sir.” The words came out as a desperate sob.
Deliberately, making sure Heather would catch the full significance of what he did, George moved his head, swiveling his eyes from Heather’s face downward to her sweet, blonde-thatched pussy.
“Your little vagina and your sweet clitoris are nearly ready to have an orgasm, pumpkin,” he said, glancing up to her face for a moment and then returning his gaze to her glistening vulva, her slick thighs. “Aren’t they?”
“Yes, sir,” Heather sobbed.
“That makes Daddy very happy,” George said, smiling and turning his attention fully to her face. “But little girls may only have orgasms when their daddies give permission.”
Heather’s hips bucked at this news, and she cried out as her pussy clenched hard—harder than ever. Her ten flashed.
“Recalibrator,” Jane said. “I’d guess that’s a plateau.”
“I think you’re right,” Miss Charlotte said.
“Deli
lah, stand by,” Jane told Heather’s mommy.
“I’m going to spank your naughty pussy, now, pumpkin, to teach you your lesson.”
“Oh, please, no,” Heather said, clearly taken utterly aback by a thought of which she had never dreamt before.
“Don’t worry,” George said. “I told you I won’t spank you hard tonight. But sometimes a little girl’s vagina needs to get a special kind of discipline.”
Heather twisted in the grasp of her daddy’s left hand, which he used now to sweep up both her knees as he brought his right down, sharply but without much force, the fingers smacking the lightly furred lips of the virgin pussy.
The girl’s curvy hips bucked, and she cried out more in surprise and startled arousal than in pain, but George held her tightly and spanked her again between her legs once, twice, three times. The last smack sounded distinctly wet, and Heather accompanied it with a little scream.
“Daddy! Daddy! Please!”
“Now, Delilah,” Jane said, and Heather’s mommy burst through the door.
“What’s going on in here?” she demanded of her husband.
The monitor screen showed a look of guilty horror on Heather’s face, as her arousal descended like a stone dropped in a pond.
Jane counted the numbers down. “Nine. Eight. Wait until five, please, Delilah. Seven.”
George said, “What does it look like, Delilah? I’m teaching Heather the lesson she needs. This naughty pussy earned a spanking.”
Delilah advanced to the bed to look down at the spectacle of her little girl spread open, vagina and anus displayed for inspection and discipline.
“Oh, Mommy,” Heather sobbed.
“Six.”
Delilah looked from Heather’s pussy to her eyes, a stern, unreadable expression on her face.
“Five,” Jane said.
“Heather,” Delilah said very softly, “don’t worry. Mommy’s going to kiss it and make it better now.”
A long, keening moan came from Heather, and her whole body writhed in her daddy’s grasp.
“Oh, Mommy, please… please, don’t… please…”
But Delilah, George, and everyone in the control room knew that Heather meant Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, Mommy.
“Seven. Nine. Ten and pre-orgasm,” Jane told them.
“Please…” Heather said again, as she saw Delilah take a seat at the foot of the bed, bend down, carry out her own inspection of her little girl’s privates.
“Hold still, now, pumpkin,” George said with authority. “Put your hands under your bottom and spread yourself open for Mommy to kiss. And remember you may not come until I give permission.” Then he spoke with even greater sternness to Delilah. “Mommy, you may kiss this sweet pussy.”
Heather’s fingers trembled as she obeyed the unfamiliar command, opening her pink folds for Delilah to stroke lightly with her fingers, and then to give a long, lingering kiss with a tiny flick of her tongue at the end. Heather cried out, and of course she couldn’t hold still. Her plump bottom, held in her hands, bounced up and down on her pink comforter, her vagina contracting visibly with each little lick her mommy gave.
“Please, Daddy. Please, Daddy. Please, Daddy,” she said, the words becoming a kind of chant.
“Should we tell her now?” Delilah asked, between soft kisses.
“Tell me?” Heather gasped.
“In a moment,” George said, letting Heather’s knees go at last so that her feet sank to the mattress on either side of her mommy’s bending body. “Get up and bend over the bed while you kiss that pussy.”
Heather’s eyes opened wide, and her mouth wider, as Delilah, not neglecting her little girl’s privates for more than a moment, obeyed her daddy. George, behind Delilah, lifted the skirt of her red print dress and took down her lacy black panties swiftly, lowering them to the tall woman’s knees.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” Heather finally breathed.
“Daddy’s going to fuck Mommy now,” George said. “Heather and Mommy are going to come at the same time.”
“Recalibrator,” Jane announced. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Watch Daddy put his cock in Mommy’s pussy now, pumpkin,” George said. “Mommy is so wet from kissing you that my penis is going to go right in.”
It did, and George immediately began to fuck, his hips slamming hard into Delilah’s plush backside.
“Oh, Daddy,” Heather said, as she heard her mommy cry out right into her own pussy. “Please don’t hurt her!”
“Hush, Heather,” Delilah breathed, raising her face with her cheeks glistening from the girl’s excitement. “Daddy fucks me just the way I like it, and someday he’ll fuck you that way too.”
She kissed Heather’s clit, and the girl gave a little whimper.
“But first,” the older woman said, raising her head again, and speaking in the little pants drawn from her by the pounding cock inside her, “you’re going to be fucked by the man who buys you next Sunday evening.”
Chapter Eleven
Heather thought she must have heard wrong. She felt sure, somewhere in her mind, that Mommy must have said something about… about… Sunday dinner, or… Sunday… ice cream sundae…
But her body knew that the beautiful older woman who knew how to use her tongue so well on Heather’s inexperienced clit, who cried out with every thrust of Daddy’s cock into her own pussy now, had made herself perfectly clear.
Heather’s body knew that what the other girls, the ones from the even-numbered side of Oak Street, had looked so secretive about must be exactly this. That what had happened in the Woods’ pool house must have had everything to do with this. That the limo, that the disappearances…
Wendy and Frankie and Mary and Ginnie, all of them sold to men who fucked them, the way Daddy was fucking Mommy now. Who held their hips and slammed their hard penises into their aching, soaking wet vaginas, overcoming the virgin barrier, ripping through it to use the innocent young lady the way a dominant man must use a dirty slut when his cock got hard and he needed to fuck.
Heather cried out louder than Mommy as she watched Daddy move inside the pussy that must make him feel so good. She screamed with the pleasure and the shame of Mommy kissing her own vagina, her own clitoris, as Heather had to hold herself open just the way Daddy had told her to do. If she didn’t, she would get spanked again, and her hands beneath her bottom, spreading bottom-cheeks and pussy-lips together, had reawakened the sting from Mrs. Giuliani’s spoon enough to tell her that she really, really didn’t want that.
She didn’t feel sure that she didn’t want more pussy spanking, but something about the way Daddy drove into Mommy’s vagina made Heather think that if he were to have to spank her there again now, he would do it much harder. That thought made her scream even louder, and now she felt the climax coming toward her like a freight train that had started chugging along its track hours and hours ago now and had finally reached an unstoppable speed.
She moaned so loudly that the sound made her blush. Daddy would spank her pussy for coming, for letting the freight train come, but how could she stop it? Desperately, she cried, “Please, Daddy! Please! Please!”
As if the sound of Heather’s begging aroused her even more, Mommy’s cries grew in intensity.
“Delilah,” Daddy said in a husky, breathy, grunty kind of voice. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Mommy screamed. “Oh, Daddy. Yes, please. Please, may I come?”
It made Heather’s body go all hot to hear Mommy calling Daddy that—the same thing Heather herself called him, and then it took every ounce of concentration she had not to have her orgasm, her very first, huge freight train of an orgasm, right then.
But Daddy said, “Heather, good girl, are you ready?”
How could he ask? “Yes, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplease!”
“You may come, girls,” he said, and then he held himself very firmly against Mommy’s bottom, and the sight of that was what Heather allowed to topple
her over the cliff, topple the freight train off the cliff and send it soaring into space. Suddenly her body lost every shred of coordination, of control, of obedience to Heather’s will: her hips bucked, her legs kicked, her back arched, and she honestly didn’t think she could bear the pleasure. With Mommy screaming too, her own big hips bucking against Daddy’s strong lap and Daddy holding her, restraining her, bending her, Heather felt like she would simply stop existing as herself and vanish into a glowing ball of pleasure.
It went on and on, both of them coming and Daddy looking on with a smile on his face every time Heather managed to open her eyes again and see what the three of them looked like together. At last the shudders left Mommy’s body, and then Heather’s own body.
She had forgotten the thing Mommy had said before, in the grip of the ecstasy, even if its meaning had somehow underpinned the terrible strength of the orgasm. Now she remembered.
“Daddy?” she asked, looking up at him. “It’s not true, is it?”
Daddy didn’t answer at first. Heather watched him pull his hard penis out of Mommy’s vagina, and she felt her cheeks get hot at the shameful sight, like one of those pictures in the dirty magazines, but so very much dirtier, because Daddy had just been fucking a pussy, and his cock shone with the wetness of it—and because it was Daddy whose cock pointed straight at Heather, not in a picture but here in her pink bedroom.
“It’s true, pumpkin,” Daddy said. Heather looked down at Mommy’s flushed face, now looking up at her from between Heather’s ample thighs. Mommy gave her a little smile.
“It’s what you need, Heather. You know it.”
Heather bit her lip. Did she have to say it was true?
“But what… what does it mean?” she said, looking beseechingly first at Mommy and then at Daddy. He had started to move around her bed, and now he put his hand out to touch her cheek.
“It means that you’re going to go somewhere next week, a place called the Institute, where a nice lady is going to sell you at an auction to a man—or maybe a woman—who will be your master or mistress. You’ll go live with him or her eventually, but first your owner will claim you completely, in a little honeymoon cottage. Then you’ll have some training at the Institute, and after that you’ll come home to us here for more special lessons. That will mean that when it’s time to go live with your owner, you’re ready to give him the pleasure he paid for.”