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Daddy Pounded Me From Behind on Daddy-Daughter Work Day
Daddy & His Partners GANGBANG Me on Daddy-Daughter Work Day
Pounded From the Rear By My Preacher, My DADDY
Disciplined By Daddy & My Teacher
Claimed By Daddy & My Big Brothers
Birthday Gangbang 1: Big Brother Takes Sister Hard
Taken Hard at the Birthday Party 2: Bound & Shared With Everyone
Birthday Gangbang 3: Hard, Rough Group Romance
(Virgin Sex, Daddy-Daughter Sex, Brother-Sister Incest, BDSM, First Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Creampie, Reluctant Gangbang, Dubcon, Deep Throat Oral, 12-Inch Cock)
By Deborah Cockram
© Copyright 2017 by Deborah Cockram and After Midnight Press
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Everyone in this story is 18 or older.
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Daddy Pounded Me From Behind on Daddy-Daughter Work Day
By Deborah Cockram
Cindy smiled when the door opened and she saw him there. Everyone else in the office knew him as Mr. Clay, the hard-nosed, get-it-right-the-first-time CEO.
Cindy knew him simply as Daddy, and she was so happy to be here, in his office. She'd been here for brief moments before, but this was the first time she had been allowed to come here and stay, interact with the staff.
Cindy was 18, and it was Bring Your Daughter To Work Day. Daddy had never let her come before – he said there were too many "adult" things going on at work, too much serious work. This year, though. he told her she was old enough to go with him, maybe site with Leslie, his executive secretary, learn from her what all goes into her job.
Cindy had protested that assignment a bit – her goal was to one day be just like her Daddy, the CEO, but he was old-fashioned, saying she was a woman, she would need to be something more appropriate, like and executive secretary.
"Women have a special place at work, and need to remember what that is," he had told her.
Cindy didn't argue much—she was just happy to be there.
"You buzzed, Mr. Clay?" Leslie asked.
She was there, at the door as well. Just a minute earlier Daddy had buzzed Leslie on the intercom, and Cindy thought it odd that Leslie took a moment to freshen her lipstick, check out her make-up before going to her Daddy's office. She also thought Leslie looked a little flushed as she stood there, waiting on a reply.
"Yes, I did Leslie," she said. "I needed to…ah…meet with you for a few minutes, go over the, um, agenda for this afternoon's board meeting."
"Oh, can I come Daddy?" Cindy said, almost giddy with excitement.
"To the board meeting?"
Daddy pursed his lips. "You don't need to be there, just a bunch of boring business claptrap. Don't you worry your pretty little head over anything like that," he said, reached out, his fingers stroking through Cindy's long, blonde hair.
Cindy shuddered at the touch – she loved her Daddy, but when he did that, ran his fingers through her hair, there always seemed something other than just comfort in his touch. Something electric. Sensual. Terribly wicked.
"Oh, come on Daddy, I'm not going to be a secretary when I finish school. I'm going to be you – the CEO one day."
Cindy was surprised when she saw red rising in her Daddy's face.
"Cindy," he said, clenching his teeth. "We've been through this already, there is a place for girls like you and Leslie, and sitting in a business office isn't one of them."
Cindy crossed her arms. "I am NOT going to be like her," she said, nodding her head to Leslie.
"Damn you girl," Daddy said. He reached out, grabbed Cindy by the arm and yanked her into the office.
"Leslie, I'm afraid I'll have to cancel for now."
Without waiting for an answer he slammed the door shut, locked it, then pulled Cindy across the large office, then pushed her down in one of the plain, cloth-covered visitor chairs in front of his large, oak desk. He stepped to the edge of the desk, ran his fingers along the edge, then sat on the corner, one leg draped over the corner. He fingered the hard, smooth top.
“ Know what kind of wood this is?” he asked, his voice soft.
Cindy looked at him. Daddy was an average-looking man, bald on the top of his head, his face round and a little fleshy, the way men get when they age. But she knew him to be unlike any normal middle aged man. He was five-foot-ten, thick in the shoulders and arms – he worked out a lot, and could easily bench press more than double his weight.
“ I…I think it’s oak,” she said, not sure if she was supposed to give the correct answer or pretend to be dumb, so he could show off.
He smiled and nodded.
“ That’s right. That’s right.” He stopped fingering the desk, leaned over with his forearm resting on the leg draped over his desk. “Antique oak. Many executives like to use showy wood – teak, maybe a walnut or some sort of rare African wood, but not me.”
He paused, as if for effect. “This desk was built in 1846. That’s nearly one hundred and seventy years ago, probably when your great-great-great-grandfather was alive. And it’s oak. Strong, basic, hard wood.”
He stood, walked behind her. “You should know, my little princess, I’m a strong, basic kind of guy. Old-school. I don’t like emails, I don’t do my own letters, I may be the last executive in America who calls a secretary into his office to take dictation.”
A tremble rolled through Cindy when she felt his fingers running through her long hair.
“ And I’m one of the last businessmen who believes in the old ways, when men were men, and if you want something, you take it.”
He grabbed her hair and yanked, pulled her head back until she was facing the ceiling. Daddy leaned over her, pressed his lips to her mouth, his other hand playing down the front of her chest. He fondled her right breast.
Cindy squirmed, tried kicking, pushing him away, her heart suddenly racing a million beats a minute. But he was too strong, his kiss too firm and passionate, lips pressing so hard against her mouth it hurt.
Without warning he let go, stood and walked away.
"Daddy, what was that?" she asked, her hands trembling as she wiped the traces of his kiss from her mouth.
"You, my little brat, are going to learn what your place in the world is, and I'm the man to teach you."
Cindy felt a shiver go through her.
"Stand up and undress."
Cindy froze. Did she hear that right?
"I said," Daddy said, unbuckling his belt. "Stand up and strip."
Cindy started shaking her head from side to side, working her mouth, though no sound came out.
In one fluid motion Daddy pulled his belt from around his waist, raising it into the air and coming down hard across her bare thighs, the sting of the leather harsh and shocking.
Cindy cried out as he did it again and again, the smack of leather on skin ringing out.
"Please, no," she finally screamed.
Daddy grabbed her and yanked Cindy to her feet. Cindy was dressed in a plain white button-down blouse that hugged her body, along with a mid-thigh black skirt and matching heels. She wore no panty hose, and her bare legs were covered with red stripes now.
He grabbed her blouse and ripped, the buttons flying off. He pulled it down until the blouse fell off, fluttering to the floor as he grabbed Cindy's bra and yanked that off.
"Daddy, please," she screamed as he pulled the clothes from her body, tears streaming from her eyes.
He grabbed her by the breasts, fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her forward, then he bent down, scooped her up, and carried her to the far wall, across the room from his desk. The wall was made of glass, but the other side was dark. Cindy saw her reflection in the mirror – her mascara was streaked down her face, her legs had red stripes on them, and her firm, larger breasts lay back, bare. He held her in his arms like she was a child.
And down deep inside her, a little tremor ran through her. A shiver of…arousal.
Daddy flipped a wall switch and the other side of the glass wall was bathed in bright, florescent light. It appeared to be a small, private conference room, dominated by a large, heavy wooden table in the middle. There were four chairs along each side, and a larger, oversized chair at the head of the table. In the middle of the table was a telephone.
He swung the glass door open, walked through, put her down. Cindy stood, arms crossed over her breasts. When the door shut, Daddy pressed a small button in a recessed panel, and she heard and saw what appeared to be metal posts slide from the bottom of the doors, locking into small holes in the floor. She assumed similar posts were in the top of the door.
Daddy grabbed the handles to both doors and gave them a yank – no movement.
“ This glass is two inches thick,” he said. “And the locks are made of steel beams. No one goes in or out unless I let them. And now, you're going to learn about a woman's place in the office."
"Please, Daddy, please…" Cindy whimpered, backing away, wanting to form the word "no," but it wouldn't come. She was scared, she was embarrassed, but she was excited in a strange way. She felt moisture between her legs. She wanted Daddy to leave her alone, to let her go…and at the same time she wanted him to take her.
He stepped toward her, and she continued back pedaling until she was cornered.
Daddy smiled, though there was no humor in it. He grabbed her, turned her around and pushed her forward, against the conference table, then he leaned against her, his weight pinning her to the table while he reached around from behind, squeezing and pinching her nipples.
Cindy screamed at the pain, at the feel of his hands on her body, at the perverse delight coursing through her body. He laughed, squeezed her nipples harshly between his index fingers and thumbs, then pulled them forward, away from her body, stretching the nipples, pulling the breasts. Cindy cried, leaning forward, forward, as far as she could over the table, yet he continued pulling, stretching.
Then he let go and her breasts sprung back, then bounced around some before coming to rest, hanging from her chest.
He stepped back, slipped his fingers inside the top of her skirt. Cindy froze – a strange tremor of … arousal flared through her body, mixed with fear and shame.
Daddy slipped his hands down further.
"Ah, no panties?"
Cindy felt her face grow hot. Her Daddy has whipped her bare legs, yanked off her blouse and bra, fondled and hurt her bare breasts, yet she was suddenly embarrassed that he knew she didn't wear any panties.
"Well, my little slut of a daughter, I guess that just means you want it."
With that he yanked her skirt down, and suddenly she was there, bent over the conference table, nude.
Cindy tried standing up, but Daddy planted his hand between her shoulder blades and forced her back down. Then he grabbed her arms, yanked them behind her, then wrapped one hand around her wrists, holding her there while he undid his tie. He wrapped the tie around her wrists, and though she tried to struggle, tried to keep her hands free, he used the tie to bind her wrists so tightly she couldn't move them at all, and her fingers even started to go numb after a couple of minutes.
Cindy cried out as he slapped her ass, the pop of his hand against her ass matching the harsh, deep stinging reaching deep down into her ass muscles.
Cindy was crying loud now, openly sobbing, but she couldn't move, couldn't do anything while her Daddy spanked her bare ass.
After several minutes he stopped. She gasped, trying to catch her breath, then her heart felt as if it stopped for a second when she felt him behind her, on his knees, lips against the back of her things.
Cindy moaned. Daddy kissed along the back of her left thigh, then the right, back and forth he went, kisses climbing higher. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, fingers caressing the front of her thighs, climbing higher, higher…until his fingers touched her pussy.
"Oh Daddy," she called.
He jammed his fingers inside, so hard and deep pain flared inside her, rolling up into her stomach.
Every muscle in her body clenched as he moved his fingers around in her, pressing against her clit, sending a mixture of pain and involuntary, shameful pleasure running through her body.
He continued pressing in, balling up his hand, until his entire fist was inside her. Cindy groaned – she'd never had anything this large inside her. He stretched her, pushing his fist up inside, further, pain and that damn little thread of pleasure mingled with the growing, deeper, harder sense of pain.
Without warning he yanked his hand from her pussy.
"Oh god damn," she cried out, the sudden agony filling her, overwhelming her.
"Don't you talk like that, little girly," Daddy said, his voice deep, hard.
He stepped back and then Cindy felt the sting of his belt against her ass. Over and over he struck, the leather snaking up and down the back of her legs, across her thighs. Cindy cried more, tears rolling down her face. She tried standing, but couldn't straighten up.
And she felt more desire, craving. Somewhere deep inside she was building toward climax.
Finally he stopped, and she relax for a moment until she felt his hands on her ass, a powerful hand gripping each tender, burning ass cheek. He pulled them apart, and then Cindy felt the tip of his cock against her tiny, tight little rosebud hole.
"Oh, please, please, God no, Daddy, Daddy, n-"
He shoved forward, forcing his cock into her asshole. Cindy simply screamed now, long and loud, as his cock filled her, stretched her, pulling and pressing muscles and tendons and body tissue in ways she'd never imagined possible.
Cindy was reduced to simple blubbering now, no real words coming from her mouth as he pulled back and then rammed forward again, this time going even deeper, hard, sharp, fiery agony flaring inside, running through her body.
Back he pulled and then thrust forward, deeper still, his cock filling her in ways Cindy never knew was possible, jags of pain bolting through her body
Daddy began thrusting harder and faster now, oh-so-fast, and Cindy felt like her ass was on fire, burning with each thrust. And now, with each deep thrust, it felt as if he were striking some nerve, sending little tremors of pleasure, of arousal, mingling with the intense pain, pushing her building orgasm even higher.
"Oh my fucking little cunt," Daddy cried out as his thrusts became more urgent, his body tensed, and then Cindy felt him cum, his semen shooting up inside her, filling her, coating his now-slick cock as Daddy continue thrusting, pumping, filling her.
She felt the cum rolling from her ass now, down her legs,
Cindy lay there, her tender nipples pressed down against the hard wood of the table, as Daddy continued cumming, burning her ass with each thrust.
And then he thrust one harder, oh-so-much deeper time, cried out, and then he was gone.
She lay there, across the table, her ass absolutely on fire, gasping, heart pounding, lungs burning, tears rolling from her eyes.
After a few minutes she heard movement behind her, the rustle of cloth, the jangle of a belt buck, and then Daddy's hand was on her head, yanking her up by her hair.
Daddy was dressed. He ran his hand down her body once more, pressing his hand against each breasts, then he say her down in one of the conference chairs.
"You sit here, get control of yourself. In a bit I'll send in Lindsey, she'll clean you up, give you some clothes. Then you can sit here, with her, during our board meeting this afternoon. Maybe I'll show you what a real woman's place is in the board room."
With that he turned and walked out, turning off the light, leaving Cindy in the dark, nude, hands still bound, weeping, wanting SO BAD to cum, to be allowed to come to climax.
And wondering what Daddy meant.
Daddy & His Partners GANGBANG Me on Daddy-Daughter Work Day
By Deborah Cockram
Cindy sat at in the chair, next to Leslie's desk, sniffling quietly. She'd just managed to finally stop crying, after her Daddy had stripped her, whipped her harshly with his belt, then ass-fucked her in his private little conference room, and now she waited to be called back in there, no idea what he might do to her next.
Cindy's day had started so differently – she was excited to accompany her Daddy to his office on Daddy-Daughter Work Day. He had never let her do that before, but now that she was 18, he said she was adult-enough to see how the real world worked.
Apparently, the real world – at least as far as he Daddy's part of it – worked however he wanted it, or he used his cock to pound everyone into submission.
For now she sat, wearing a pair of clothes Leslie had provided for her – it was a far-too-tight red blouse that clung to her boobs and showed off everything; a black, really short skirt with no panties underneath, and she wore her own shows, black with two-inch heels.
Cindy shifted in her seat – her ass was so very sore, it still felt a little like it was on fire from having her Daddy's giant cock filling and stretching and pumping her.
Three other people came in – two men and a woman. One man appeared to be in his early thirties. He was tall, perhaps six-four, and slender, with coal-black skin and a chiseled, square-jawed, clean-shaven face. The other man was older, maybe in his fifties, and overweight. He wasn't huge, but his body had begun to take on a roundish shape. Cindy was five-foot-six, and standing in her heels she was a little taller than him. The woman appeared to be about forty, the same height as Cindy, with a curvy figure she admired.
Leslie buzzed Mr. Clay – Cindy's Daddy – and he had her send the trio to his office. Ten minutes later he buzzed her.
"Leslie, please bring Cindy to my conference room, prepared to take notes."
Leslie grabbed her pad and a couple of pens, gave Cindy a reassuring little smile, then led her into her Daddy's office. Cindy stood gingerly and made her way slowly behind Leslie, every step sending new flares of pain from her ass.
Cindy noticed Daddy and the three were on the other side of the big glass wall, sitting around the conference table.
Cindy's breath caught in her throat. It was here, in this conference room, where he had ripped blouse off, yanked down skirt, spanked her, touched and teased and kissed her, and ultimately fucked her in the ass a wild man, ramming his cock in her harder and faster than she'd ever imagined possible..
Cindy felt her face grow hot at the fresh memory. She stood at the door for a few seconds, fighting to get her breath under control, waiting for her face to cool. Eventually she was okay and stepped into the conference room, following Leslie.
There was only one empty seat. Daddy motioned for her to take it, So Cindy slowly, carefully sat down.
"Leslie, please set up the recording equipment," he said, looking at his executive secretary. Then his gaze shifted to Cindy, his little girl. "Cindy, we'll need you to take notes for us. Don't be nervous, if you miss anything Leslie here will be able to make it up from the recording."
Leslie set up the recording equipment, turned it on, then left when Daddy dismissed her. She gave Cindy a comforting squeeze on the shoulder as she departed.
Daddy stood, introducing the people around the table.
"This is Lawrence Jones," he said, and the younger black man raised the fingers on one hand in a silent greeting and smiled while Cindy wrote his name. "This is Michael Kincaid," he said, and the older man smiled while she acknowledged him and continued scribbling. Both men set on the opposite side of the table. Of course, Daddy, the CEO, sat at the end. "And this is Marsha Sherman." The woman, sitting next to Cindy, barely nodded, her face expressionless, before turning back to Mr. Clay, to Cindy's Daddy..
"Stan," she said, calling him by his first name, the first person Cindy had ever heard address her Daddy in that manner. "I don't know that buying Progress Industries makes any financial sense," she said.
"Why not? They have-" he stopped himself, turned to Cindy. "Honey, you need to write this down."
Cindy began writing.
"They have extensive assets, an enviable client list, and we're going to get them for a third of what the company was valued at a year ago."
She shook her head side to side. "And if we leave them alone, they'll be in Chapter 7 inside a year, probably within six months, and then we can swoop in and buy for pennies on the dollar."
"Unless they get another investor, then we have nothing," Lawrence said.
Cindy wrote as quickly as she could. The words meant little to her, and she hoped Leslie could make out what she was writing.
They continued the discussion, and she wrote furiously, concentrating solely on replicating what they said.
That's why it caught her so off-guard.
Cindy flinched and let a little gasp escape her mouth when she felt Marsha's foot rub against her leg. It wasn't an accidental touch, but a long, lingering caress, her foot – Marsha had allowed her shoe to fall off under the table – slipping along the inside of Cindy's calf, up to her knee.
They all stopped and turned to her.
"Everything okay, Cindy?" Daddy said. She thought she detected mild annoyance in his tone.
"N…I mean yes. Yes sir, Dad…Mr… I…" she wasn't sure what to say, even how to address him. "I just thought…"
"Thought you felt a breeze blow up your skirt?" Marsha said, her mouth a teasing smirk.
Cindy felt her breath catch in her throat when Marsha leaned over and patted her on the arm. Cindy felt what she could only think of as an electric charge shoot up her arm at the touch.
"I felt the same thing," Marsha said, turning toward Cindy's Daddy. "Stan, your conference room must have a draft."
"It's okay," Cindy said. "I'm fine."
Daddy looked at her for several seconds, and Cindy shivered under his gaze, wanting to melt right into the chair and disappear. Finally he turned back to the group.
"As we were saying," and they soon were back to their discussion on buying or acquiring or doing something with some other company.
Marsha continued on, writing, keeping her focus on her notepad. She glanced up once and found Cindy staring at her, a crooked smile on her face. Cindy looked back down at her pad, though she had a hard time concentrating now, keeping her mind on note taking. She flinched again, though remain quiet, when she felt Cindy's foot against her leg, rubbing up and down.
"Stan," Marsha said, interrupting the conversation.
Cindy thought she detected annoyance in his voice again.
"Is this one of your girls?"
Daddy looked at her, puzzlement across his face. "Marsha, what are you talking about?"
"Is Cindy here one of your girls?"
"Marsha, she's my damn daughter, what do you mea—"
"No," Marsha said, leaning over until her face was just inches from Cindy. "I mean is she one of your girls?"
Daddy sighed, then leaned back in his chair.
"As a matter of fact, as of about two hours ago, she is."
Marsha's face spread into a wide, toothy grin. "Good," she said, her voice suddenly deep. She leaned forward again, and pressed her lips against Cindy's.
Instinctively Cindy put one hand on the table, her other on the side of her chair and pulled back.
"Come on, darling, this is what you're here for, isn't it?" Marsha reached up and put her hands behind Cindy's head. She pressed her mouth against Cindy's again, hard, moaning into Cindy's mouth.
Cindy pushed against the table and chair at first, trying to turn her head, but Marsha tightened her grip. Without warning Daddy was behind Cindy, pressed against the back of her chair, his fingers running through her hair.
"Relax, honey," he said, his voice even and soft now. Marsha broke the kiss, took her hands away from Cindy's head. Daddy pulled on her hair, not hard, but firmly enough so that Cindy tilted her head back, looking up at him.
"You want me again?" he asked.
Here, now, in front of everyone? she thought.
He held her hair in one hand, keeping her head tilted upward. She felt a shudder run through her body as his other hand slipped down along her neck, fingers playing along her skin. He leaned down, hand now on her chest, slipping inside her blouse.
"Do you want me?" he asked again, his voice firmer.
"No, please Daddy, no," she whispered, but there was no conviction in her voice. She didn't want him up her ass again – that hurt too bad, and still burned – but she liked the way he touched her, controlled her, violated her, made her nothing more than a little slut. Cindy shivered with excitement.
He leaned down, kissed her on the mouth, hard, his hand slipping inside her blouse, inside the two-small bra Leslie had given her, fingers squeezing her nipple.
Before she knew what was happening, they were all on that side of the table, surrounding her, lifting her from the chair.
Cindy's notebook fell to the floor as she stood, Lawrence in front of her, kissing along one side of her neck. Marsha kissed the other side of her neck while Daddy, standing behind her, wrapped his arms around her body, hands unfastening the buttons of her blouse.
Cindy began to weep, her a sense of dread and fear mixing with a curious feeling of arousal. She closed her eyes and half-moaned, half-whimpered, leaning against them, letting them hold her up, chills running along her body. Hands on her skirt, unzipping, letting it fall to the floor, other hands grasping her panties – Leslie had made her put on a pair -- pulling them down, while someone else slipped the blouse from her body, and still another pair of hands unfastened her bra.
She never opened her eyes, never protested, as pure, fiery lust gripped her, desire growing strong from deep inside.
And shame. And fear. And a sense that she should scream, tell them no, fight and kick and try to escape.
Before she could do anything Cindy felt herself being lifted in the air, then gently laid on the table.
"Cindy," Daddy said. "What's your boyfriend's phone number?"
Cindy told him.
A shiver ran through her. She looked at her daddy, momentarily forgetting she was naked, on the conference room, with all of these people pawing her. Her body grew cold.
He smacked her on the ass, hard, and she flinched.
"Dial his number," he said, smacking her again.
Cindy cried out, but she reached out to the phone in the middle of the conference table and dial the number of her boyfriend, Lewis.
"Yeah?" he answered.
Another stinging SMACK, followed by a second and third.
Cindy gasped, right into the phone speaker.
"You just shut up, sit there and listen," Daddy said into the speaker phone.
Cindy felt hands on her again, flipping her over, so that she stared straight up at the ceiling. Suddenly two of them were kissing her feet, lips against her skin. They kissed, moving their way upward, now over her shins. It was Lawrence and Michael, their tongues occasionally slipping between their lips, tasting. Each had one hand behind her calf, their other hands playing along her thighs.
She whimpered, groaning.
"Please," she said, her voice hitching between cries.
Another gasp escaped her mouth as Marsha climbed atop the table next to her, hovering over her – Marsha was wearing only a bra and panties now, caressing Cindy's breasts. A jolt of electricity ran through her veins when Marsha squeezed her breasts, pressing them together, then kissing Cindy's breasts, taking first her left nipple into her mouth, then moving to the right. Cindy had never been with a woman, never had a woman touch her like this, kiss her. It felt naughty, wicked, somehow against everything she had ever known, almost as bad as Daddy ramming his dick into her ass.
Yet, there was something strangely comforting in Marsha's caresses, kisses. .
Cindy groaned when Marsha gently clamped down on her right nipple and pulled.
"Cindy!" came the phone. Lewis's voice, distress evident. "Answer me."
"Oh my god," Cindy cried when fingers – from both men – touched her pussy. Convulsions wracked her body as each slipped two fingers inside her, touching her clit, their tongues lapping at her thighs.
Marsha straddled Cindy now, and Cindy saw she was no longer wearing her panties. She hovered over Cindy's face, her pussy inches away, on her hands and knees. Then Cindy saw Daddy – he was nude – climb onto the table. He stood on the table, just above her head, his rock-hard cock hanging, jutting against Marsha's face. Marsha opened her mouth wide, then took his cock in. Cindy watched while Daddy put his hands on Marsha's head, twisting his fingers around her hair and then yanking her head forward.
"Jesus," Cindy screamed just then, as someone – she couldn't tell who – pressed lips to her pussy, kissing, sending a frenzy of shock waves hurtling along every nerve in her body. Above her she watched as Daddy yanked Marsha's head back and forth, his hips thrusting in time with her head, as his cock filled her mouth. Wet, sloppy sounds filled the room, along with an occasional gag from Marsha, and soon drool hung from her lips, dripped from her chin, landing on Cindy's head. Then she lowered her pussy, nearly touching Cindy's face.
"Kiss her," Daddy said.
Cindy clenched her mouth tight, turned her head to the side, as much as she could with Marsha's legs on either side of her head.
"Persuade her, boys," Daddy said.
She felt two fingers against her asshole now, slipping in, then the man moved them back and forth violently, hard, jagged pain flaring from her ass.
"Kiss her," Daddy said.
Cindy moaned, but she turned her head so that her face was up, just an inch from Marsha's cunt.
"Kiss," Daddy whispered, just as the one at her ass – she couldn't tell who it was – rammed his fingers oh so far and deep up in her.
Cindy screamed, and when she did Marsha lowered herself, so that her pussy was smashed down onto Cindy's face.
"Kiss, taste, lick!" Daddy commanded.
Without thinking – at this point Cindy was driven by the fear she'd be spanked more – she raised her head slightly and lapped her tongue along Marsha's pussy. Even around Daddy's cock she could hear Marsha scream, and then Marsha lower her hips, until her pussy covered Cindy's mouth.
At that moment a tongue flitted against her clit, and Cindy screamed into Marsha's pussy. This was wrong, so damn wrong, and she was afraid and ashamed and confused, but her body was responding, shuddering, the fire of arousal suddenly flaring, running through her body.
She kissed hard, plunging her tongue deep inside Cindy, just as Lawrence was doing to her. She slapped her hands against the table, felt teeth grazing her pussy and she did the same to Marsha.
Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was vaguely aware of her boyfriend's voice, calling her name, yelling over the phone, asking what was going one, for someone to say something to him.
But his voice faded, and the only sounds Cindy could concentrate on were the grunts and calls of her Daddy, the sloppy wet sounds of mouths on pussies, Daddy cock ramming deep and pulling back and then ramming again into Marsha's mouth.
Orgasm ran through Cindy's body, every muscle contracting, cramping, pleasure exploding through her body. She screamed – and even though her mouth was pressed against Marsha's pussy, her tongue playing along Marsha's clit, she knew her voice was loud enough for her boyfriend to have her.
"CINDY!" he called, confirming her thought.
She didn't care. She was shivering now, her body out of control, and she pressed as hard as she could against Marsha, feeling Marsha's body shudder with orgasm, heard her Daddy cry out as he came. She continued pumping her tongue inside Marsha, just as Lawrence was doing to her, while Steven caressed and kissed her thighs.
Finally, mercifully, just as she felt as if her body could take no more, Cindy felt her orgasm crest. She held her breath, and then sighed as the inevitable slow-down came. Cindy realized she was soaked in sweat, as was Marsha, and she also realized her Daddy had cum, his semen filling Marsha's mouth, running out, dripping down onto the table, onto her head, in her hair.
Suddenly she felt shame returning.
Slowly, gradually she came to herself, that otherworldly euphoria that accompanied orgasm fading, replaced by extreme shame, humiliation, embarrassment. Daddy climbed from the table. Marsha slipped off of Cindy, reaching down to give her one long, hard, open-mouthed, cum-filled kiss before pulling away. The air turned cold as sweat dried. Cindy sat, suddenly ashamed. The others were paying her no attention, cleaning themselves with tissues, handkerchiefs, then dressing.
Daddy reached over, slapped the phone, breaking the connection.
"Hold her," he said, and the two men grabbed Cindy, turned her over and pressed her down on the table top.
The sting of leather against ass flared. Again and again. Cindy screamed, tried flailing, getting away, but the men held her tight and she couldn't move.
Daddy spanked her with the belt, the leather slapping against her ass, up and down her legs. Over and over he struck, Cindy screaming now, crying, pleading for him to stop.
Finally, mercifully, he stopped, bent down and grabbed her hair, his face an inch from hers.
"I think you enjoyed that far too much, you little slut," he said. "Later, we'll have to explore some suitable punishment."
With that he let go, finished dressing, then the four of them went back to their seats around the table, Cindy now in the floor. She crawled to the corner and sat, her back to the wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, and she wondered what her Daddy would do to her later.
The End (For Now)…
Pounded From the Rear By My Preacher, My DADDY
By Deborah Cockram