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)
The little lady couldn’t take any more of that; she felt so sorry for the misbehavior that had brought her to her daddies’ firehouse—the crime for which they had sentenced her to degrading sexual servitude—and even for not paying attention to Daddy Phil in the office and not paying attention to Daddy Jacob at the dinner table. The rebel knew that if she meant to avoid a life of not sitting or even walking comfortably, she would have to use her smarts and choose her battles.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, looking back towards Daddy Jacob. I said it in the little voice, making my face as contrite as I could. In my bear daddy’s brown eyes, I thought I saw him register the two different sides of my reaction. His eyebrows descended and knit themselves towards one another as if he were trying to puzzle out precisely what had just taken place in my brain and my body.
Good luck, I thought, to my astonishment almost giggling at the thought. I have no fucking clue myself.
I did, though. The near-giggle had given me a clue. The rebel had come out not because I truly resented my daddies’ hardness on me—their hardness in every way—but because it had made me feel safe.
Did I really have both of these women inside me, the little lady and the defiant bad girl? I guessed I had always heard about that on videos and shit, but I also had never expected that it would come out in me this way—like something just short of multiple personality disorder or dissociative identity disorder or whatever the fuck it was called when you had too many people inside one head.
“Honey, are you with me?” Daddy Jacob said, his forehead growing a little troubled.
I bit my lip, feeling my own brow crease. Maybe Daddy Jacob’s puzzled look had only been because I seemed spacy? I guessed I felt out of it, a little like the detached, floaty feeling I had started to get all the way back in the doctor’s exam room when all of this bad girl fuck toy stuff had started. I felt kind of, well, thoughtful? Again I realized, with a new blush, that I wouldn’t—couldn’t—have felt that way unless my daddies had… taken care of me.
And the way they had taken care of me, with their belts and hands and rigid cocks, made the blush get suddenly very hot.
All of which, I realized, must make me look pretty spacy to Daddy Jacob.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I said, genuinely penitent. “I… I just…”
“Your bottom hurts a lot, doesn’t it?” Daddy Phil asked, his voice uncharacteristically sympathetic.
I looked over at him. In his bearded face I saw real compassion, alongside a paternal condescension and a wolfish hunger that made my tummy flip. I nodded, and when his eyebrows went up, I automatically used my words, the way a little lady would, once her daddy had spoken to her.
“Yes, Daddy.”
I looked down at the pink plastic bib covering my front. I noticed that I’d dropped a spot of barbecue sauce onto it, a dark red reminder that my table manners weren’t everything they should be. The contrast of the bib’s childish design with the rest of my naked body, and the way I could see my stiff nipples on either side of its innocent surface, combined with the outrageous but nevertheless plausible idea that my daddies might punish me for getting my bib dirty. I chewed on the inside of my cheek and swallowed hard, unable now to lift my gaze.
“I was saying,” I heard Daddy Jacob’s deep voice continue, “that we should clear the table and do the dishes, honey. Daddy Phil, why don’t you meet us in Marianne’s room with her punishment panties?”
I couldn’t keep a little noise, a mew of distress, from rising to my lips. I looked up with desperate eyes first at Daddy Jacob and then at Daddy Phil, a mute plea in my eyes for more information. The mental image of Ashley rose irresistibly into my mind. Pretty red-headed Ashley in my doorway in her own strange, thick underwear, such a degrading contrast with her well-developed chest… and then in bed with her wrists bound, turned over on her side, her panties’ gusset showing evidence of what seemed a very odd sort of discipline.
My daddies’ eyes told me nothing at all. They gazed back at me steadily, their sheer handsomeness and the fascinating similarities and differences between them distracting me so thoroughly I forgot whether Daddy Jacob had issued some instruction to which I needed to respond to avoid another punishment. Daddy Phil’s hair with its slightly lighter shade of brown… Daddy Jacob’s beard with its slightly shaggier trim.
“Honey,” Daddy Jacob said, “go ahead and clear the table now.”
My lips parted and I took a fearful breath, because I thought for a moment that I’d missed his direct command, and surely my bear daddy would lay me over the table I should have cleared for a paddling. I couldn’t bear it, I thought, and yet the idea made me squirm on the pillow, and find to my dismay that alongside the soreness I had begun to feel more of the wanton heat my daddies seemed shockingly able to call up with their discipline.