His hands reached down to cradle the back of my head, and I whispered, “Oh, no,” because of the hot flush of shame that seemed to course in my bloodstream at the idea of what I knew Papa Georg meant to do.
Then he had done it: he straddled my face and brought his scrotum down gently on my lips. I whimpered with shame and arousal as my papa made me lick his balls.
Above me, Papa Georg gave a grunt of pleasure. “Good girl,” he murmured as I tasted the salty, musky place underneath his sack. He moved a little, and now it was his hard cock I had to receive, deep between my lips. “That’s it,” my papa said. “Get me nice and ready.”
I tasted my own pussy, my cheeks hot at the degradation of it, and I gave him the reverential reception I thought only a bad girl knew how to give—once her papa has thoroughly taken her in hand. Ready… for…
For my bad girl hole. Papa Georg didn’t need to tell me. He fucked my face gently but very deep, rewarding me with his right hand, which he moved to stroke my still-needy pussy very gently as he enjoyed my mouth. I moaned around his thrusting cock when he spread the warm arousal from my sheath downward to my anus, firmly pressing two fingers inside, telling me exactly where he meant to use me now.
The dance continued: my papa pulled his hardness from between my lips, and he rearranged me yet again, turning me over and around, bending my limbs skillfully so that I ended up on my elbows, my bottom up and my knees spread. A new blush came to my cheeks, for this posture always brought my violated modesty to my mind, as I pictured my papa looking at my most intimate places, evaluating them and deciding how he wanted to take his pleasure.
I closed my eyes and bit my lip, resting my cheek against the blanket, grateful that Papa Georg couldn’t see my face. The position seemed so right for a bad girl to have her bad girl hole fucked by her daddy—because it also seemed so wrong. When I felt my papa’s cock press against my bottom-hole, I let out a little mewling cry of shame and discomfort that seemed to come as much from the idea of the dark pleasure my papa demanded as from the actual sensation.
“Play with yourself,” he commanded in the voice of authority, and my hand obeyed. My hot, paddled bottom squirmed under his hands as he spread my punished cheeks still further. My back arched with the effort to open to the head of his thick erection. I rubbed my clit frantically, whimpering at the excess of sensation, and then I cried out as Papa Georg entered me there, surging inside my bad girl hole and grunting with pleasure at the way my little ring engulfed his manhood.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. “Papa… please…”
“Shh,” he murmured above me and behind me. “Papa will come soon.”
The hot shame that flooded my body, and the shuddering orgasm that seemed to flow directly from it, told me that yes, indeed, we were a match made in daddy heaven. My papa fucked my bottom. He fucked it hard. I cried out over and over. I bit the blanket and I pushed back against him to take him deeper, give him more pleasure.
He had saved me, in every way… and I had put him in danger. I gave him my ass not just for paddling, but for this firmer discipline, a more thorough mastering. He went deeper in my bad girl hole, his lap coming up against my bottom-cheeks. Open and stretched and full, I moaned as I felt my papa’s body go rigid, his warm cock pulse out his seed inside my body—his bad girl’s most private place.
Gently, then, he pulled his manhood from my bottom. The final steps of the dance arrived: Papa Georg picked me up off the bed, and held me close, in his arms, his hands underneath the little nightgown, big and warm on my bare skin.
“Do you think you’re ready to have one papa instead of three daddies?” he asked me, speaking softly into my ear.
“Oh, yes, Papa,” I said eagerly. “I’m not even sure I’m such a bad girl anymore.”
He laughed, and the sound seemed to fill my body, too. “Are you telling me I won’t ever have to use the voice of authority again?”
That made me giggle. “Well…” I said, nuzzling against his furry chest. “That depends. Will I have to do the dishes?”
He laid me down on the bed, and he lay down beside me, taking me into his arms again. “Yes,” he growled, kissing me. “But I think your paddle will make sure you obey me, don’t you?”
I pursed my lips and twisted my mouth to the side, playfully avoiding his. “I guess so,” I said. Then something occurred to me. “But the voice wouldn’t work with the dishes, would it? Because I don’t ever want to do the dishes.”
Papa Georg chuckled. He took hold of my chin and made me kiss him, and then he said, “I think you’re missing something, sweetheart. You’re actually not a bad girl at all, because you do want to do the dishes, when your papa asks you to.”
My eyes went wide as I looked into my papa’s kind blue eyes. I felt tears well up in my own eyes as I understood. I could be a good girl—no, I had to be a good girl—for him.
“Maybe you can use the voice sometimes, though,” I whispered, my cheeks starting to get hot again. “To… you know… make me do bad girl things.”
“Oh, yes,” Papa Georg replied. “Yes, I can.”
The End