Domming Daughter Dani – Part 22 of 51 – CARYN’S INCEST TALE PART ONE

By Dutchboy

copyright: This work is released under the Creative Commons Attribution Only (CC BY) License. You can copy it, paste it, change it, try and get some other fool to pay you money for it. I don’t care. Just acknowledge my original authorship and if you change anything, be upfront about the fact that you changed it. If that ain’t a square deal, I’ll kiss your ass.

Story codes: mdom, male dominant, incest, inc, true, bdsm, some pedo, spanking, mmf and mff. 

Email: mrdutchmaster@gmail.com

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Caryn said:

I can’t remember Daddy not being “the boss.” He was Mom’s boss. He was my boss. I think about the way he terrified my brothers and part of me thinks I may have been the one member of the family who got off easy. Believe it or not, I got spanked a lot less than my brothers. Daddy whipped them with a long dowel rod that would welt the backs of their legs even if they had been wearing their Carhartts when Daddy beat them.

He spanked my mom a lot too when he said she’d done something wrong. At first when I was little, I heard him spanking her in their bedroom. When we got a little older he’d have the boys and I stand in the living room and watch him spank Mom really hard. He’d pull her jeans and panties down to her knees and just whack! Whack! Whack! Mom hated to cry, but daddy would just keep cracking his palm on her ass until she screamed for mercy. It was dumb for her not to just do that right away and save the bruises on her ass, but she always tried to hold out for some reason.

We only had one bathroom in the house, and if I was in the bathtub, somebody was always coming in to take a poop next to me while I was bathing. We didn’t have a shower head, or even a working hot water tank. We had to heat up our own hot bath water from pots on the stove, so you didn’t want a lot of water in the tub. A lot of water meant that you had to heat up and haul more hot water from the stove. And if the tub water was too deep, it just got colder faster. There was a point where if you tried to take a deep bubble bath, it wouldn’t work at all. By the time you got more hot water heated on the stove and poured, you were pouring it into ice water. So it was easier to just get the tub deep enough to cover my butt. At that point when I lay down in the tub it was deep enough to lean back and wash my hair or rinse the soap off my chest. 

There was no curtain around the tub. If you were in the bathroom when somebody was bathing you couldn’t help but see everything. Daddy could see everything. And he’d watch me bathe too. Stare at me. The older I got, the more he stared. 

I tried to tell him that I didn’t want him coming in the bathroom while I was taking a bath, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said things were different on a farm and farm families had to leave certain niceties to the pages of Emily Post.

Sometimes after he’d flush, he’d stand up and his big hairy wiener would be poking straight out, big as life. He’d wash his hands in my tub water and use my bar of soap. Then he’d tell me to stand up and he’d soap all over my legs and ass with his big foamy hands. But he didn’t touch my pussy when I was little. He looked at it a lot, but he never really played with it or molested it. He was most interested in my ass. I guess at four or five, it was the only curve I had. Shape of my hip bones, I guess. I always had a round butt, even when I was little.

Sometimes if he didn’t come in and watch me in the tub, he’d come into my room right after I walked back in from the bathtub and “inspect me.” He’d make me drop the towel in the floor and stand on it. Then he’d run his hands through my wet hair like he was looking for bugs. Or he’d sniff me like a dog. Sometimes he’d lift me on the bed and push my heels back and stick his big nose in my ass crack or my cunt and sniff me. “You’d better stay squeaky clean for Daddy, Carebear,” he’d say in this really ominous, serious dad-voice. I’d nod. 

But that was it. Staring and soaping and sniffing. That was all he did. At least until I was about eight and a half. That’s when one night at supper he told the family that there was a new arrangement and every Thursday night I was going to sleep with Daddy and Mommy in their bed and every Tuesday night, I was going to sleep with Daddy by myself. Mom was going to sleep in my bed by herself. 

He told us kids that the arrangement was a family matter between farm kin, and none of us were to speak a word of it to anyone at school or in town. No jawing with our friends. I mean, it really seemed strange, but then again, the way Daddy said it, it was like it was supposed to be completely normal. 

Once I started sleeping my nights in Daddy’s bed, it really was almost was normal. If it was just me in the bed with him, he’d kiss my cheek and then crash dead asleep. If it was Thursday, he’d kiss Mom good night and then me. Then he’d drop off to sleep instantly. Given the hours he kept working the pigs and the dairy cows, that wasn’t unusual. 

Then, one Thursday, after maybe six months of “Goodnight, Jen, Goodnight Carebare. Zzzzz,” one night my Mom came to bed last (she always was the last one in the bed) and Daddy said, “Jen, get down and work my pecker.”

My mom looked at him and she looked at me. “Hurry up, goddammit,” he growled. He pushed his own pajama bottoms down and his dick was already hard and huge pushing way out from the nest of his ball hairs. I was so embarrassed. I turned away and looked out the window while I heard my mom crawl into bed and start a wet slurping on Daddy’s dick. After ten minutes I heard my Daddy ‘s breathing get real rapid and then he said “Swallow, Whore,” matter-of-factly. A couple seconds later the lamp on my mom’s side of the bed clicked dim and Daddy was snoring again. After about the third time that happened, it wasn’t as shocking any more. Just weird. Sometimes he’d make her stop sucking and then go through some sex positions while I lay there looking the other way and trying to ignore the bed bouncing.

So that takes us up in time to when I was just about nine years old. Every two or three weeks, Mom and Dad would have sex next to me. Not every Thursday. Just sometimes. 

When Daddy and I were alone in the bed, he still didn’t really do anything sexual. Not for a little while longer. Just after I turned ten, one Tuesday night when it was just us in the bed, he stopped me before i got in the bed. He had me take off my pajamas. For the first time that he wasn’t sexing my mom, he kicked his pajama bottoms all the way off and tossed them out of the bed. Then he had me hold out my hands so he could look at my fingers. He said my fingernails were too short and too many of them were broken. He told me that from that night on, I better not bite them and I better grow them long and keep them pretty like Mom kept her nails. Well, keeping long fingernails on a farm is just this side of impossible. Long fingernails are for city girls with money and moms who buy them nice dresses and hold their birthday parties in a tumble-gymnasium. I told Daddy I’d try. Daddy said I’d do better than try, or the he’d spank me in the living room in front of my brothers, just like he did to Mom.

Then that night was the first night he had me scratch his balls. He had me lay in the crook of his left arm with his left hand stroking at my left elbow, and then with my right hand hand I had to reach down and find his nuts and lightly run my fingernails over them. I was so terrified that I was going to accidentally touch his dick, I always put my hand way down by his thigh and then pulled up the inside of his thighs until my knuckles bumped against his fuzzy ball sack. Then really gently I’d just claw my fingernails in and out over his balls until they got really tight and Daddy would eventually start to shiver and jerk and eventually say it was too much. He’d rub at the gooseflesh on his arms and legs. Then he’d kiss me and go to sleep, both of us naked. Sometimes he’d rub my butt for a few minutes before he drifted off. I kind of liked that part. Butt-rubs were comforting after they stopped being weird.

Everything that was weird eventually stopped being weird after enough repetition. 

And that’s the way things stayed for a while longer, that’s how my Tuesday nights went after I turned ten.

I saw Daddy’s half-hard dick swinging back and forth as he got into bed before he reached over and turned out the light. Then it was dark. My hand was under the sheets. Scratching sessions never lasted more than fifteen minutes before he’d get too tickled and make me stop. I kinda started to like the ritual. Not so much that I had to scratch my own dad’s balls every Tuesday night, but I liked the way he’d hold me tight and rub my arm while my fingernails danced around the stiff hair follicles bumps that popped up on his sack after it went tight. He really seemed to like it, and he was less bossy around me the rest of the day after I started scratching his balls, so I liked that. But it didn’t go any farther than that. He’d kiss me on the cheek and then he’d roll over and go out like a light.

Again, it wasn’t that long until the “weird” of it went away. It was just another Daddy ritual, like him coming in to watch me take a bath or soaping my body, or sniffing at my ass and pussy after I got back to my room after bathing. It wasn’t “sex.” It was just the way it was. I didn’t think about it as being sex or sexual. Just Daddy’s way. Even when he started soaping my chest and impatiently pulling at my non-existent flat nipples when he bathed me, it didn’t seem sexual. It was just Daddy’s way.

After three months or so of scratching Daddy’s balls every Tuesday night, one Thursday night at dinner he made my mom and I stand up from the table and show him our fingernails. Mom had just finished filing and painting her nails before dinner and they looked perfect. I don’t know how she managed to keep perfect fingernails, but she did. She also seemed to know the inspection was coming that night. She couldn’t have been that lucky.

Me, I’d been doing fabulously at growing my nails out. Daddy had noticed how perfect my ball scratching had become with my longer, emery-shaped tips. But earlier that day I’d almost let the piglets in Charlie Barn squirt past me and into the slop yard. Rounding up piglets in a big yard is next to impossible. Some of the boars and barrows were still in the slopyard and they’ll eat the piglets before they’ll eat slop. As the little fuckers tried to get past my boots, I panicked a little. I kicked ‘em back and made a couple of claws at the gate before their little bumping heads could knock it all the way open and I broke two fingernails and the thumbnail on my left hand. Not even my ball scratching hand. I don’t know why Daddy picked that night for inspection, but he had to know. Maybe he saw my fingernails as I ate dinner. The fact that my Mom had just dressed her tips up make me think it was already planned before that.

“Caryn, you’ve disobeyed me,” Daddy said, real deep and serious. “I gave you very clear instructions on how you were to keep yourself groomed, but you saw fit to disregard my wishes. You will be spanked in the living room at exactly eight o’clock tonight. Gip. Stevie. You are going to watch your sister get punished tonight.”

Then he looked at me. “Take off your clothes, Caryn.”

“Here? Now?”

“All of them,” he said.

“Where should I put them?” I asked. I stood there, completely dizzy in disbelief. He didn’t really mean for me to strip naked in the kitchen with the lasagna still bubbling in the Corningware? Yep. It turns out he did.

He had me hand him my top. Then my cammy. Then my socks. Then my jeans. Finally my panties. My brothers just looked at my naked body like I was some kind of alien. I was so embarrassed that I was beet red from my ears to the soles of my feet. “When can I have them back?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” Daddy said. “You won’t need clothes again before then. After I’m done spanking your ass, you’re not going to want any clothes touching your skin anyway.”

“And you two,” My daddy said, pointing at my brothers with the prongs of his fork. “I know you two are a little younger than your sister, but you are both responsible for helping me keep Caryn in my good favor. Your mother too, for that matter, but I want you to two to start with Caryn.”

My two little brothers were seven and eight at the time. They just kept staring at my nudity with big purple question marks spinning around their head.

“Do you understand what that means?”

Neither of them had a clue, but both of them nodded that they understood.

“That means,” my daddy continued, “That it falls to both of you to make sure that Caryn and your mom are thorough about their hygiene habits. You’re both responsible for making sure the are wearing clean panties, no stains, no blood spots and no crotch rot. That means you both are responsible for making sure the women around here smell like women and not pig ranchers. You’ll supervise their bathing and make sure every inch of them is scrubbed clean. It means that when you catch either one of them in a state of slovenliness or unkemptness, you will report it to me immediately. Soon I’ll authorize you to administer punishments on my behalf, but not just yet. Are we clear? Gip?”

“Clear sir,” Gippy said.

“Steve?”

“Clear?” Steve answered as if uncertain as to whether there was a trick question involved.

It would be a few years before Daddy’s expectations of the boys were really and truly clear, but, like any good farmer, Daddy knew you had to train your farmhands just as much as you had to start training your livestock when they were calves and piglets, even when you had no real expectation that either’d take to the training right away.

Daddy and the boys were farmers.

Mom and me, we were livestock. Fancy indoor livestock.

That night at eight o’clock, I was pretty sure my dad let the wood burning furnace in the living room go cold on purpose. It was freezing in there as I sat naked on the couch and waited to star in the big show. My brothers were watching Dukes of Hazzard next to me, but they didn’t even really look at me. At least not at my body. They did keep looking at my eyes and smirking. If I was in trouble with Daddy, that meant they probably were safe from his cane for the time being.

Daddy came in from milking the cows about ten after eight. Then he made some coffee and peed. Time absolutely stood still. Mom walked in the room next to him when he finally came in for me. Her hands were on her hips and she was looking stern at me like she was mad at me too for breaking my fingernails. 

Daddy pulled the ladderback chair he used for spankings away from the wall and into the center of the room. That sound of the back legs of the spanking chair vibrating across the plank floor as Daddy dragged it to the middle of the room is still the most awful sound I can think of.

“Caryn, get your ass off the couch and kneel right there,” he ordered, pointing at the hard wooden floor to his left. I did. The floor was even colder than the couch and I shivered with chill as well as anticipation and fear.

“And you, Jennifer,” dad growled. “Get your clothes off. All of them. Then kneel right there.” This time he pointed to his right. It was the same positions we had when we both slept in his bed. Mom on the right. Me on the left.

Mom’s jaw hinged open. She may have been tipped off to the inspection, but she obviously didn’t see this part coming.

“W-w-why?” she stammered. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“So you say,” Daddy said. “And I said for you to get your whore clothes off and get your fucking knees into the floor right where I just told you.” Daddy’s tone-of-voice made it clear that Mom shouldn’t test him. She started stripping down and laying her clothes over the back of the couch.

The boys didn’t look at me naked. I guess there wasn’t much to see with me not even being eleven. But when my mom pulled off her bra, their eyes zoomed right to her big jugs. They were fascinated with her tits. They didn’t even look for more than a few seconds at her dark-honey pussy bush when she stepped out of her panties. Their eyes bounced right back on her breasts. Big eyes. Big tits give boys big eyes, I guess. My Mom had really big tits too, as you know since you’ve seen her. Ten years ago they were still pretty firm and impressive. They hung high on her shoulders and had that upturn thing going with her nipples that guys like so much. Boys too, apparently.

My mom took her place on her knees where Daddy had pointed.

“Sons, watch closely,” Daddy said. “This is what you’re both going to need to know when you’ve got women of your own. Caryn!”

I about jumped out of my skin.

“Caryn,” he said, “Stand up and get over here.” Daddy patted his right thigh. I jumped up and walked round to his right side as I’d done a hundred times before. I started to lean over his lap like I always did and he stopped me. 

“No,” he said. “Wait. Wait for my command. When I want you over I’ll say ‘over.” Got it?”

I nodded. 

“Present yourself to me,” he said. I had no idea what he was talking about. He’d never said that before. Daddy didn’t wait before he started telling me what he wanted. “Put your hands behind your back. No, all the way. Grab your right wrist with your left hand. That’s it. Shoulders back. Good. Now put your legs apart. More. No more. So they are under your shoulders. NO! Stop looking down and look at me. Just get your legs apart. Good. I should be able to put my fingers right into this twat here,” he said. For the first time ever he touched the deep insides of my pussy. He pushed a flat, sideways hand between my legs and sawed the top of his index finger back and forth across my inner pussy. Of course I jumped. Just that fast Daddy pulled out his hand and slapped it across my right hip.

“Stand still! Get your feet apart, goddammit. LOOK AT ME!” 

I tried to do everything at once. Suddenly I had to pee really bad and I was afraid I was going to let it go right there on the TV room floor. 

Daddy’s hand went right back between my legs and this time he pinched a big wad of what little folds I had in my pussy at the time. Not much. I still don’t have a lot of folds down there and I had even less at ten. My clit wasn’t as big then, but Daddy got all of it. Daddy’s pinch hurt so bad. It was like being stabbed. 

“This here is mine,” Daddy said, pulling his pinch back and forth so that it was excruciating. “And it’s mine until the day I walk you down the aisle, you got it?”

I nodded.

Daddy looked at Gip and Steve on the couch. “You see, Sons, girls aren’t really happy unless they are owned. They’re like dogs. If you leave them to themselves, there’s lots of fighting and nipping and bullshit as they have to try and figure out who the boss dog is. Well not in this family. Who’s the boss dog in this family, Caryn?”

“You, Daddy,” I squeaked.

He looked down at my Mom in the floor. She was staring off into space. I could tell she wasn’t happy.

“Who is the boss dog in this family, Jennifer?” Daddy asked Mom.

“You are,” Mom whispered. “You are the boss dog.”

“Well if I’m boss dog,” Daddy pondered, “What does that make you, Jennifer?”

Mom sighed and mumbled something.

“What?” Daddy roared.

Mom sighed again. “I’m your bitch.”

“Well are you?”

“Yes.”

Daddy shook my twat meat between his fingers once more. I was sure that I was going to pee on his hand at any moment.

“And you?” He looked at me. “What does that make you?”

“I- I- I- I’m your b-bitch too?” I said, hoping against hope that I had given him the right answer.

“Goddamn right you are,” Daddy said. At some point after he came in from the barn he must have chugged a beer because I could smell it when he talked right in my face.

Daddy stopped pinching my clit meat and started rubbing his hands back and forth between my legs again, the top ridge of his hand pressed against my cunt hole as it moved back and forth. He turned to the boys again. “The reason you check a girl before you spank her,” he said, “Is to make sure they don’t have a wet pussy. If they have a wet pussy before you spank them, that’s not pee, that’s sex juice and it means the girl is a whore because she likes being spanked. Yeah, I know it’s hard to believe, but some girls like being spanked. Once that happens you have to spank them much harder to make your point. Now so far, Caryn is a good girl. No pussy juice at all.” Daddy held up his hand to the boys so they could see it was dry.

“Okay,” Daddy said, resigned. “Over my lap, Caryn.”

Another first: As I fell over Daddy’s knee, his left hand shot up into the back of my hair and grabbed a big bunch of it. As if being the unhappy volunteer in a public spanking clinic wasn’t submissive enough, I really felt Daddy’s complete power over me as he pulled my head back on my neck. 

“Nice flat hand,” Daddy showed the boys. I couldn’t see. “Like a brickbat. Flat and firm.”

Then the spanking started. Aside from the complete nudity and the humiliation and my audience, it wasn’t any more brutal of a spanking than Daddy’s usual swats. It didn’t go on any longer. He didn’t seem to swat any harder. I started crying right away the way I always did. It still hurt. It hurt from the start. But he wasn’t spanking me like he was mad.

I felt Daddy’s cock poking into my stomach. That wasn’t the first time I noticed daddy’s erection when he spanked me, but it was really pointy and uncomfortable.

After he finished swatting my ass, he hinged me back up to my feet by my hair and pointed to my spot on the floor. I didn’t stop bawling, even after I was back on my knees. I had to pee worse than ever. Daddy called Mom over and I don’t know if she’d ever been spanked before in accordance with the Daddy spanking ritual I’d just endured, but she’d watched me get yelled at and she went right into a perfect attention stance right away when Daddy said, “Present yourself to me, Jennifer.”.

“Again, boys, you give ‘em a quick check to make sure they aren’t a whore and...” Daddy rubbed his hand into Mom’s bush and stopped cold. “God damn it,” Daddy said disgusted. “God damn it. Now this is exactly what i was talking about, boys. Your god damn mom has a pussy dripping with slippery whore juice. Don’t you, whore?”

I’d never seen my Mom blush so deeply red before. She blushed all the way from her forehead to her boobs. “Yes,” she said softly.

“Don’t tell me, hell I already know you’re a whore. Tell them,” Daddy said, his head tilting toward the boys. “Tell your sons that you are a wet pussy whore. G’head. Say it.”

Mom’s eyes were pointed toward Gip and Steve, but she her focus was a mile behind the couch. “I’m a wet whore,” Mom said robotically.

“Who do you belong to, Whore?” Daddy asked her.

Mom turned, “I belong to you.”

“We’ll see about that, Whore,” Daddy said. “Now over!”

Daddy’s hand went into the back of Mom’s hair the way he did to me. He jerked her over his knees. Once she dropped onto his lap he let go of her hair long enough to pull Mom’s tits so they were over his left thigh. Of course, Mom is so short, her tits didn’t really go over the thigh. They just kinda went into the top of it and she balanced on them like two big springs.

“There’s a world of difference between a good girl who just went astray, like your sister there,” Dad was talking to the boys again, “and a whore like this one here. So there’s a difference between the way you punish them. See, when a whore like your mother starts to like her spankings, then you have to spank her even harder. Sometimes you’re not going to want to do that. Sometimes it’s a lot of work for you and hell, it might even hurt your hand to spank a whore hard enough to get through to her. But if you don’t it’s like letting a Bull into your bedroom. Sooner or later they’re going to think they run the place.”

Daddy started spanking Mom so hard that the cracking sound hurt my ears. He absolutely blistered her bottom. Mom usually held out a couple of minutes before she cried. That night she started screaming about five swats into the spanking. Jesus. She thrashed on Daddy’s lap. Mom never thrashed. She always took the spanking. But that night she couldn’t help it. Her self-preservation instinct kicked in and her legs started to bicycle and her neck strained back and forth against Daddy’s steel grip on her head. Even the boys on the couch looked like they were going to cry as they watched in shock. 

After an eternity, it ended. Mom must have taken fifty or more swats. He doubled whatever my spank count was, for sure.

Just like me, mom was hitching and sobbing after Daddy put her back in her spot on he floor.

Daddy stood up. His erection was just about to pop out of the top of his pants. I sighed relief. Finally it was over. My ass was on fire, but my heart was comforted that I was a little closer to getting back to “normal” (and maybe to the bathroom). The optimism didn’t last very long. 

“Gip,” Daddy said plainly, “You’re up, son. C’mon. Take a seat in the boss chair.”

Mom and I both turned to look at Daddy with the same look of disbelief at the same time.

Gip eased off the couch cautiously and walked toward the chair in the middle of the room.

“C’mon,” Daddy said. “Cowboy up. Take the chair like you own it. That’s good. Good. Now call your sister up.”

Gip looked from my Daddy to my Mom and then to me. Then back at Daddy.

“For cryin’ out loud, I wanna get to bed sometime tonight, Son,” Daddy growled.

Gip didn’t look like the man of the house. He looked like a nine year old boy. “Sister,” he squeaked. “Come stand here.”

I was floating. Not in a good way. It was a total dream. I couldn’t feel my feet. My brain told me I was standing up and walking toward Gip, but the only thing that wasn’t numb was my bladder.

“Check her twat,” Daddy nodded at Gip.

Gip’s tiny index finger poked out and moved slowly toward my pussy. He didn’t want to touch it. After a hesitation he just poked once into the top of my slit, way high over my clit.

“Naw, dammit,” Daddy growled. “Getcha some. C’mon, boy.” Daddy reached down and grabbed Gip’s wrist and pulled it upward and toward me so that his knuckles crashed against my pink. It didn’t hurt, but I came very close to peeing on Gip’s hand.

“There you go. There you go,” Daddy encouraged him. Daddy dropped Gip’s wrist and Gip maintained the charade of rubbing my twat a moment longer. 

“Is her pussy wet or dry?” Daddy asked.

“Uhm, dry, I guess.”

“Good.” Daddy said. “Good girl.”

Daddy didn’t have to prompt Gip for what came next.

“Caryn, get over,” Gip said, imitating Daddy. I saw Daddy smile as I leaned over and Gip grabbed my hair and pulled me down onto his thin little lap.

“How many spanks?” I heard Gip ask.

“However many spanks you think she needs,” Daddy said. “Just remember that she’s not a whore. She just made a mistake. But it’s your call, son.”

If Daddy hadn’t already spanked me, I might not have even cried at Gip’s effort. As it was, I shed a few tears, more from the humiliation of being spanked over the lap of my little brother than from the strikes to my backside. Gip just warmed my ass a little and he didn’t spank me very long at all. 

“You done?” Daddy asked.

“Yeah?” Gip wasn’t sure if he’d really spanked me enough for Daddy’s satisfaction.

“Well, don’t just leave her hangin’ there, Son. Put her bitch-ass back down on the floor.”

“Oh yeah,” Gip brightened. “Caryn, get your butt back on the floor!” My brother was growing bigger balls by the minute.

I rolled back up and off Gip and took my place kneeling in my spot on the floor. Gip watched me all the way down. He had a little self-satisfied smirk that he’d got over on his bossy big sister, that’s for sure. He made sure I saw him smile. 

“Okay, okay,” Daddy barked. “Move it along. We’ve got cats to kill and contracts to fill, Son. Get on to the next one.”

Gip froze. “Y-y-you mean Mom?”

“Well,” Daddy hemmed, “ ‘Mom’ is kind of a title of respect. Like ‘Dad.’ Or ‘Captain.’ Or ‘Reverend.’ Right now that spit-tail in the floor is either a bitch or a whore. Probably a wet pussy whore, but you can’t tell that from where you are just yet. So... Give ‘er the benefit of the doubt. Address her as Bitch. But get to moving. C’mon.”

Gip gulped. His mouth smacked dry. “Bitch, stand up and get over here,” he said to Mom. Mom looked like she was going to die of shame. She stood up off the plank floor and walked real slow towards Gip. Then she just stood there.

“Bitch,” Gip said, louder this time. “Get your hands behind you... Present to me.”

You could see on Mom’s face that she knew we were all crossing a line, a line she’d likely never see the other side of it again.

Daddy chuckled and nodded encouragingly. “Good! Good boy!”

“Get your legs wider, Bitch,” Gip said.He sounded phony, but Daddy was eating it up. Mom gave up. She stepped her legs apart and put her shoulders back and pushed out her tits.

Gip stuck his hand into Mom’s pussy and then stopped. His eyes got big. “It’s wet!” Gip exclaimed. His hand started moving around and we could all hear the sound of wet pussy lips popping and slipping about Gip’s fingers. With the wood stove heater not burning, the room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop, so the sound of Mom’s pussy sliding around Gip’s hand might as well have been fireworks.

“Well dammit Son,” Daddy shook his head, “Don’t be so damn happy that your mother is a whore.:

“Oh,” Gip said, removing his hand. He was obviously reluctant to cross the next line of ordering our mother over his lap. 

“You can touch ‘em,” Daddy said. “You know you want to.”

“What?” Gip asked.

“You know you want to touch the whore’s tits. G’head. You used to suck on ‘em. Take your little trip down Memory Lane and let’s get this show on the road. Give ‘em a good feeling up.”

Gip’s jaw dropped open like a slobbering fool as he reached to his right and grabbed one of Mom’s tits in each of his hands. He was gentle but insistent. Gip tested their weight. He tested their flexibility. His grip went everywhere on Mom’s chest but her nipples, which were poking out pretty far. Then Gip went for her nipples, tugging them in stereo. Twirling them between pinched fingers. 

Little Stevie on the couch had eyes the size of pie plates as he watched Gip manhandle Mom’s knockers. He stared and pulled at the jeans over his dick as if none of us were watching him play with himself. He was in another world.

“Okay, okay,” Daddy said to Gip. “Get on with it.”

Then Mom was over Gip’s lap. Her tits spilled over the side Gip’s left leg, but Gip still reached down and pretended to move them into position, even though all he did was feel her up some more.

Gip didn’t exactly follow orders because he didn’t swat Mom any harder or any longer than he spanked me. Daddy didn’t have to tell him to order Mom back into her spot on the floor. He just did it. When Gip stood up out of the chair he had a boner poking up in his pants too.

Stevie took his place on the chair and ordered me up. When he stuck his hand in my pussy he accidentally put his ring finger right into my pussy hole. It was a total accident, but that was just too much for me. I flinched hard and that was enough that I couldn’t help but pee one squirt before I could pinch the flow off again.

Stevie’s queasy little smile vanished and his eyes looked like he’d caught Santa in the act of rolling a bicycle beside the Christmas tree. “Dad!” he shouted. “She’s wet! Care-Care is a whore!” 

Thank God, Daddy just rolled his eyes and made a winding motion with his fingers. “Yeah, yeah. Get to it, Son. Let’s go.”

“No, really,” Stevie said, “Caryn’s a wet pussy WHORE!”

“Son,” Daddy shook his head. “If you don’t start busting ass and busting it right now, you’re going to lose spanking privileges in this house. Get at it.”

I fell over Stevie’s lap without being ordered and without him grabbing my hair. He spanked twice as many swats as Daddy and Gip but his hits were so high on my butt that they were almost on my back. It didn’t hurt one bit and I made a point not to make a sound, just to show Stevie that he was a shitty spanker. 

“That’s enough,” Daddy said, getting impatient. “Caryn, getcher bitch ass in the floor. Whore, assume the position.”

Stevie stuck his fingers into Mom’s pussy for ten seconds and then went straight for her boobs. Mom took a lesson from me and just dropped over Stevie’s lap without being ordered. It cut the boob mauling short. Daddy didn’t say anything and Stevie didn’t do a very convincing job of spanking Mom either. 

“Enough,” Daddy said, looking at his watch. “Boys, you finish up your chores. Stevie you’ve got the late feeding for the pigs in Baker barn and Gipper, you milk tomorrow at 3:30 in the morning. And I mean 3:30. Those cows get mastitis because you oversleep and I’ll take the vet bill out of your hide.” Daddy took turns looking between Mom and me once more and then checked his watch again. “All you bitches and whores in the floor, you have exactly three minutes to get your respective asses up in my bed. One second late and we’ll do this all again, only you’ll be tits-up and I’ll put a nice rosy spanking on a couple of pussies. Got it?” He looked at his watch a third time. “Go!”

It was all I could do to not pee on my own feet as I jumped up. With only three minutes to get upstairs, making it to the toilet first was going to be a gamble, but I had no choice. I ran straight for the bathroom door. Unfortunately Mom was positioned three steps closer and she ran for it too. 

“Mooooom! Noo!” I shrieked in panic. “I can’t wait. I have to go now!”

I followed her into the bathroom and began to cry when she spun around and dropped on the toilet seat. Her face crinkled in sweet relief and I heard the spray of pee hit the water. That just made it worse for me. 

“Sorry, honey,” Mom gasped out. “You’re on your own.”

“Mom!” I shrieked in anger. 

“Pee in the tub,” Mom nodded at the bathtub. “You better hurry. He’ll do what he says he’ll do. It hurts a hell of a lot worse on your kitty than it does on your ass, believe me.”

I was not going to pee in the tub. I stormed out of the bathroom thinking that somehow, somehow I’d hold it until the lights were off and then sneak down and pee after Daddy dropped off to sleep. Four steps out of the bathroom the stabbing in my bladder doubled me over. Instead of going up the stairs, I turned the other way and bolted out the back door. I think it was December then. So, completely naked and freezing I swung under the iron railing to the concrete steps at the back of our house and just stuck my butt out and pissed like a racehorse into the yard. I heard a mad mewling and I realized that I was pissing right on top of one of the cats in the dark. Too bad. I didn’t even finish peeing. After enough pain subsided and I started getting nervous about the time, I just squeezed it off and ran in the house and right up the steps. I left the back door to be closed by one of the boys later. Up the steps and into Daddy’s room. I jumped over Mom and onto my side of the bed like I was Supergirl. I panted and looked at my Mom. She stared at the ceiling, making a point not to look at me.

Daddy, that asshole, he didn’t even come upstairs for another fifteen minutes. I could have finished peeing. Hell, I could have just waited to use the toilet.

But as Mom said. We both had no choice but to always take Daddy at his word.

Daddy strolled in, the long line of his erection still a diagonal line pointing to his right hip. He started shucking his clothes and I turned and faced the window. I knew Daddy wasn’t going to bed until Mom sexed him. Not with that bulge, he wasn’t.

“Carebear,” he growled. “Turn over here.”

I rolled on my back and looked over at him as he pushed his skivies down and his big penis momentarily caught on the waistband and then smacked up against his hairy flat stomach.

“No more turning away from me when it’s bedtime,” he said to me. “It’s disrespectful and it stops tonight.”

He stared at me, waiting for a response. I nodded. I tried to look him in the eye so I didn’t have to see his big twitching wiener or his hairy balls. It was one thing to scratch his balls in the dark, under the covers, but it was another thing altogether to see his dick when it was hard and long and thick as a blue ribbon cucumber. It bounced up and down without him walking or touching it. Menacing. That’s the word. Daddy’s dick seemed really menacing. He crawled over Mom and plopped between us on the bed.

Mom reached for the lamp switch beside her.

“And just what the hell do you think you are doing, Whore?” Daddy growled.

“You want the light on?” Mom asked innocently.

“Quit fucking around, Jen. Get down and work my pecker.”

Mom pulled out from under the covers and crawled between Daddy’s legs. She reached for his dick and I rolled back away from watching.

“Goddammit, you little bitch,” Daddy shouted. I flinched. “What did I tell you?”

I looked back over my shoulder to make sure he was talking to me. He was. He was staring daggers at me. 

“Sorry, Daddy, I said, shifting to my back again.

“Enough with the ‘Sorry Daddy,’ “ he mocked. “Get out from the covers. Now get up on your knees.”

I came to my knees on the mattress and my hand laced between my knees like I was going to pray.

“Come closer,” Daddy said, patting the mattress to the left of his hip. “No closer. Closer, goddammit! Put your knees so they touch my hip. Yeah. Like that.”

I had smelled Daddy’s balls on my fingers after I’d scratched his balls before. That weird man-smell. Good and bad at the same time smell. Kind of like lamb chops, is what Daddy’s ball smell reminded me of. Kneeling there I could smell it again, but a little different. It was mixing with the smell of his cock. Not stinky smell, but like the smell of a smoldering campfire mixed with salt and puppy fur. I know that sounds crazy, but it had that combination of clean and musky scent that you smell on a puppy’s head.

Once I was in position, Mom reached up and grabbed Daddy’s “pecker,” hinging it up until it pointed at the ceiling. 

“No,” Daddy said. “Not you.” He looked at me. “You. Pick my pecker up, right in the middle.”

I’d tell you I hesitated, but I really didn’t. I just reached out and closed my fingers around the middle of Daddy’s dick. His penis skin was so soft, but it was so bumpy with veins and so hard. And warm. I didn’t expect it to be so warm.

“Tilt it up. More,” Daddy said, firmly but evenly. “More. So it points to the ceiling.” 

I didn’t expect Daddy’s dick to have that much spring in it. It was actually an effort to pull it up and hold it away from his body. Mom made it look effortless, but Daddy’s dick seemed to want to be pointing at his face instead of the ceiling.

“There,” Daddy said. “Good girl, Carebear. You’re a good girl. Squeeze. Harder. No, squeeze really hard. It won’t hurt me.”

Daddy had a piece of exercise equipment that was a thick spring between two hand grips that you held in one hand. He seldom watched television, but when he did, he’d grab that gripper thingy from the lampstand beside his chair and just pump it and pump it to strengthen his hands. Daddy made it look so effortless, I wondered why he even bothered. Then I tried it one day and I couldn’t get the grippers to move at all, not even using two hands.

Trying to squeeze Daddy’s big dick was a lot like trying to squeeze his hand exercisers. I just didn’t have the finger muscles to do it right.

“You’re getting it,” he said. All three of us watched the big mushroom top of his pecker plump bigger when I squeezed. “That’s it, Carebear. Now while you’re doing that I want you to pull up on the cock meat. Just a little. Squeeze and pull up. That’s it. Thaaaaaats it.”

Daddy relaxed back into the pillow behind his head and the sternness melted out of his expression. “That’s it, baby. Don’t stop.”

I pumped Daddy’s pecker and looked at Mom, mostly for some signal that I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. Daddy’s eyes closed in ecstasy. Mom signaled that I needed to pull Daddy’s dick shaft more up-and-down, wiggling her fingertips in a “gimme-some-money” motion. I did.

“Oh perfect,” Daddy moaned. “No, don’t move your hand up too high. That’s for whores, not good girls. Keep it right there in the middle. Yes. Kiss me, Carebear. No, don’t stop your hand. Keep your hand exactly the same. Just kiss me.” 

It was a stretch to reach Daddy’s mouth and still keep his pecker pointed at the ceiling. My arms weren’t that long and Daddy’s torso was. My lips got close enough and Daddy kissed them, really kissed my lips for the first time. His mouth was closed, but his lips were soft. It wasn’t his usual Daddy squack kiss. It was sensual.

Sigh. Daddy was my First Kiss. I can’t deny it. It was a pretty good kiss, too. I can’t deny that either.

“Carebear, don’t you stop doing what you’re doing for even one second. Not until I tell you to stop, do you understand?”

I nodded and resumed a more upright kneeling pose as I pumped the middle of Daddy’s enormous pecker. 

Daddy looked down at Mom and then over at the clock on Mom’s nightstand. “You’ve got fifteen minutes, Whore.” he said in his disgusted Daddy voice. “Fifteen minutes to suck the spunk out of my balls. After that, your daughter will just have to take your place and finish up what you can’t do.”

Mom nodded sadly, like she’d seen this moment coming from a long way away. Her blush turned into a blanch. She couldn’t look at me. She just stared up at Daddy’s face.

“Get to it, Jen,” Daddy barked. “Work my pecker.”

Mom’s mouth flew over Daddy’s pecker head instantly. How it stretched so big was a miracle. When I listened to her suck I wondered how Daddy fit it in between her lips. Once I finally saw it up close, It was indeed a tight fit. Mom’s lips were stretched very thin. Mom started grunting and made her eyes big and then small as she and Daddy stared at each other. Her mouth took more and more of Daddy’s pecker as she bounced lower and lower on it while she grunted and rocked her head back and forth. She was such an aggressive cocksucker that she just about pulled Daddy’s pecker out of my grip with her twisting head.

“Hold it now, Carebear,” Daddy warned. “Don’t drop it. Perfect. Now kiss me again.” 

I did. The kiss was softer and hotter than the last time, but still no tongue.

Mom stared right up at Daddy’s eyes when he wasn’t kissing me. I kept looking over at the clock on Mom’s nightstand.

After ten minutes of slurping and grunting, Mom had bounced her mouth all the way down against my thumb and forefinger. I started to pull my hand away when Daddy said, “No.”

Mom smacked her lips into my hand harder and harder. I knew that had to hurt her. I stopped stroking and just squeezed Daddy’s pecker at the bottom part of Daddy’s acceptable stroke range. Once again he corrected me.

“No, baby,” he cooed at me. “Don’t stop pumping. Your whore mom will adjust her suck to where you are stroking. If she bangs against your hand that’s okay. It feels good on Daddy’s pecker.”

Daddy started softly stroking his left hand down my back and around the curve of my ass, then up my back. It was very soft and gentle, just like his kiss had been. 

“Okay,” I whispered. It was the first time I’d said a word since Daddy arrived in his room. “I just didn’t want to hurt Mom’s lips.”

“Don’t you worry about that Whore,” Daddy said. “You’re actually helping her. Watch what she does, watch close how she moves her whore mouth up and down. Watch careful how she works Daddy’s pecker. You’re going to have to take over for her in....” Daddy looked at the clock. “Less then two minutes. “

Mom really began to grunt and slurp then. She acted like she loved working Daddy’s pecker more than anything in the world. She moaned and began to wiggle her butt up in the air from all fours while she sucked.

“Getting close to time,” Daddy panted. “You about ready to take over for that Whore, babydoll? You about ready to suck the spunk out of Daddy’s balls?”

I nodded. I had to.

Daddy started panting fast. “Too bad. Your whore mother has such a wet whore pussy, but she can’t even suck the spunk out of her man’s balls without taking all goddamn night.”

I thought about what Mom had said about how much it hurt to be swatted on her pussy. I didn’t want that. By my count I had thirty more seconds until I was going to take Mom’s place sucking Daddy’s pecker. Then when I screwed that up, Mom and me both were probably going to get  spanked right on our kitties. Daddy loved me now, but he was going to be mad when I couldn’t get that big pecker of his in my mouth. Not even the head. No way.

“I’ll be good, Daddy,” I said. I didn’t mean to say it in a ‘good-little-daughter’ voice, but that’s how it squeaked out of me. It sounded like I really meant it. “I’ll suck your pecker real good,” I said. Then I leaned up and kissed his lips again. 

Daddy grunted like he was pooping and thrashed. I looked down and Mom’s suck was way at the top of Daddy’s dick and her throat was gulping up and down. 

“Enough!” Daddy grunted.

Mom pulled up and off. She nodded at me. I watched daddy panting and twitching for a second longer. A little shot of what had to be Daddy’s spunk bubbled out of the hole in his pecker head and rolled down over the tops of my fingers. 

“That’s enough, babydoll,” Daddy said. “You can let go now. You did great. Now go to sleep.”

I set the pecker on his stomach lightly and crawled under the sheets. Mom turned off the light. I heard her and Daddy kiss really wet kisses a couple of times. Then Daddy was making the hissing sound that indicated he was asleep. 

I couldn’t sleep. I smelled the wet drippings drying on my fingers. It didn’t smell like anything I knew before. It smelled crazy. It smelled like an animal, and not a puppy either. Something wild and dangerous. I thought about Mom’s throat moving up and down and I knew she’d drank some of Daddy’s spunk. I wanted to stick my tongue out and lick a little bit of Daddy’s jizz off my fingers so I would know what to expect if and when Daddy made me work his pecker. But I didn’t. I was afraid it would taste like pee, even though I didn’t even know what pee tasted like..