Domming Daughter Dani – Part 23 of 51 – CARYN’S INCEST TALE PART TWO

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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With only slight variations, that’s pretty much how it went every time mom or me got in trouble. 

There was nothing but ball scratching and pecker rubbing and a little closed mouth kissing on Tuesday Nights. Most Thursdays were uneventful, but sometimes Mom would suck Daddy and sometimes after she sucked for a while he’d lean up Mom would slide on her back and Daddy would push his pecker into Mom’s pussy. I wasn’t sure if Daddy was serious about thinking Mom was a whore because on account of her pussy being wet too much, but she was really wet. I could hear it and I could see the sheen on Daddy’s cock when he pulled his stroke backwards out of her pussy. I wasn’t allowed to stare out the window any more. I’d kneel on the side of the bed and watch, even if I was sleepy. It never took more than a half hour, even if Daddy was taking his time. Once I started watching I could see that when Daddy sexed Mom from behind like a dog, she really liked it. She always pretended to like everything, but I could tell that she really did like Daddy sexing her that way. She made a lot of noise and toward the end before Daddy squirted his spunk in her, her eyes would roll back and she’d make a noise like a grunt and drop down off her hands and onto her elbows for a few seconds.

That was a “normal” sex Thursday, and like I said.... they didn’t have sex every Tuesday. All I did was watch those two dance out their very practiced routine..

Then there were “Punishment” Thursdays. No matter what day of the week Mom or I got in trouble, punishments were saved up for the next Thursday.

Unfortunately Punishment Thursdays happened often enough to not be as rare a ritual as I would have liked. Mostly it was my mistakes that got Mom and me spanked by Daddy and my brothers. But Mom was the next. About six weeks after that first punishment, Mom walked out from a grocery run at the Shop-Shape to find a big ding in the car door where somebody had backed into it. Jeez Daddy was angry. It happened on a Sunday, and Daddy almost didn’t wait until Thursday, but he cooled down and waited.

While Mom was cooking dinner that particular Punishment Thursday night, Dad went in for his bath. This time he had me fetching hot water off the stove for him, which really complicated Mom’s job, giving up three of the four gas burners for hot water pots. Most of us just used three pots and a little bit of bath water, but that night Daddy made me bring three hauls. Nine pots. After I poured the third run of hot water in (while Daddy lifted his legs over each side of the tub to ensure he didn’t get burned) I gathered the pots to leave, but Daddy called me back.

“I want you to soap my pecker clean,” he said. “Your mom’s going to have it in her mouth tonight, and maybe you too, if she takes too long. So it’s your responsibility to make sure my pecker is properly clean and sanitary. Grab the soap.”

I did.

His dick was floating half-hard in the water, the big head like a ballast balloon, bobbing in the already soapy water. I reached in and grabbed Daddy’s pecker in the middle, like usual. I started rubbing the bar in the middle of his cock. I think I was afraid of the head. That seemed to be the dangerous part.

“Baby,” Daddy said. “The reason I don’t let you stroke all of my pecker or stroke up around the head is because that’s what makes me squirt my spunk. Too much whoring up on the top of it makes me squirt spunk. But this isn’t whore work. This is love. Love your daddy and soap my whole pecker and my balls up real good and rub it clean all over with your hands.

I did. It was obvious that when I pulled soapy suds up around the slippery tip of Daddy’s dick, he really liked that. He sighed a lot. He relaxed against the top of the tub. And of course his pecker was a big hard steel bar under my slippery hands. I had to use two hands at all times to make sure that Daddy’s pecker didn’t slip right out of my hands completely. Even with all the suds all over Daddy’s dick, I could see the pre-come dripping out of the top and mixing in with the soap.

“Stop. Stop it,” said Daddy. He was breathing fast and his eyes were thin. “Don’t touch me for just a minute.” Daddy lay back and let his pecker dance up and down on his stomach for a while. Then he had me soap his balls very carefully. Then he shooed me off to help Mom get supper finished.

When it was spanking time that night, everything was the same except that I made sure I peed twice between the time Daddy got out of the tub and when he put us in the floor. Mom and I had removed all our clothes before any of us took a bite of food. Mom and I ate naked again, which was to be our regular habit on Punishment Thursday. 

Daddy’s punishment spanks were the same as always. Gip and Stevie rubbed Mom’s tits a little more that time. They were really looking forward to it. I swear they were salivating as they looked across the table at Mom’s chest while we ate. Gip and Steve stuck their hands in our twats just the same and spanked me and Mom just the same. It hurt about the same as the time before. Maybe less because it was Mom’s fault that time and I didn’t feel so guilty as I took swats from Daddy and the boys.

Once we got to bed, Mom worked Daddy’s pecker the same as she did the last time and popped his spunk down her throat in a few seconds over ten minutes. No problem. Daddy was pretty ready to pop that night.

Some six weeks more passed and I got two D’s on my Spring report card. Whoopsie.

Daddy’s cock: Washed.
Mom’s and my asses: Red. Gip was spanking harder as if someone had coached him and Stevie on how to hit on the bottom of our butts and make a spanking hurt. Stevie’s hand was almost as brutal as Daddy’s. 
Mom’s timed suck: 13 minutes, 11 seconds. I was getting kind of nervous.
Both our bottoms had black sploches on them when we rolled out of Daddy’s bed the next morning. It hurt to slide on my panties.

My end of year grades had the same two D’s and one new F. I had to go to Summer School to make up my Science credits. Daddy was pretty mad. Summer school cut into my time putting in my extra summer share of the farm chores, and he had to keep one of “his men” on a few weeks longer that year because of me. That took money out of his pocket. He spanked me like he was mad, too. 

That night when Mom was working his pecker, the second hand of the little clock swung past the fourteen minute mark and Daddy wasn’t even breathing very hard. I knew I was in a spot of trouble. I looked at Mom and Mom looked at me. That was rare. She usually acted as if she and Daddy were the only ones and I was invisible. But that night when Daddy closed his eyes for a long blink, Mom’s eyes flittered over at the clock and then she looked at me kind of panicky. She was trying to tell me something with the twitch of her head and her shifting eyes, looking up at Daddy’s closed eyes as he moaned and stretched his legs under Mom’s bobbing mouth. She was trying to mention something about his face. She popped off Daddy’s cockhead and started licking the front side of Daddy’s dick above and below my hand. She mouthed something three times before I understood the shape of her lips: “Kiss him.”

I leaned up and kissed Daddy six long, soft smooches in a row. Right on his mouth. Then I did something I saw in a TV movie. I leaned over and licked Daddy right on the earlobe. Daddy startled. 

“Don’t be a whore, girl,” he muttered into my ear. 

“No Daddy,” I whispered in his ear with really hot breath. “No, I love you, Daddy. A girl should like to kiss her Daddy if she loves him, right? Oh, I love you, Daddy.” I gave the bottom of his ear a little bite and he jumped and squirted his spunk into Mom’s mouth. I felt his pecker kind of thump in my hand as he squirted. That was unusual.

Daddy was very happy after that. He left the lights on and took turns kissing Mom and me for a while, his hands all over our butts and backs. When he’d kiss mom they’d both poke their tongues out and rub them over one another. When he’d kiss me, his lips were together, but they were intense.

I guess Daddy never noticed that Mom was a full minute and eighteen seconds over her time limit that night.

Mom noticed. Whatever rule she had about not talking about Thursdays with me stopped and she started coaching me about what to do on Thursdays A LOT. 

Mom told me that around minute twelve I should always kiss Daddy like a good girl. Lot’s of whispers about how much I love him while I kiss him. “And put some honey in your voice,” she said. Mom also said to save my strength and try and cheat my little hand-pumping strokes into longer strokes as time ran down. She said Daddy wouldn’t notice it if it were close to the end of Mom’s suck, the same way he didn’t notice that we went over time when I was kissing him.

“Once he starts that heavy breathing thing,” Mom said, “don’t be afraid to cheat. Reach down and start rubbing his balls with your free hand. Very gently. Once they are tight... Uh... Have you ever kissed Daddy’s balls? On Tuesdays?”

“No!” I said, indignantly. “I don’t have sex with my own Dad!”

Mom just looked at me like I was retarded. Then she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Ignorance is bliss,” she muttered. “Well anyway, you’re going to do a lot more than kiss his balls if we don’t snap his bean in fifteen minutes. We. Us. Not just me. But us. It’s us against your Dad when he’s all blustery and bossy like that. So think about it. Try kissing his balls. They don’t taste any different than a kiss on his cheek. Don’t do it slutty. Don’’t stretch your tongue. He won’t like that. Not from you. Just soft kisses. On his balls. Just like you kiss his lips.”

I made a face. I was so naive. “Okay,” I said. “If it keeps us out of trouble. If it keeps us from getting our kitty’s spanked.”

Mom put both her hands on my cheeks and looked at me real somberly. “Honey,” she said. “One day we’re going to be on the bubble and I’m not going to suck him off in time. Sooner or later he’s going to make you do it. Even if he has to cheat, or say it was fifteen minutes when it was actually twelve. Or whatever. He’s going to make you suck. You need to start thinking about how you’re going to do it. You need to practice keeping your jaw way open for a long time.”

I shook my head no. “It won’t go in my mouth,” I said. “It’s too big.”

Mom laughed. “Honey, if only it were that easy.”

That weekend Mom slipped into my room right before bedtime. She had a big box tucked into her robe and she was acting skittish. Her ear’s perked up, listening for Daddy or the boys. When she was satisfied it was safe, she pulled out a long black box with a cellophane window across the front. “Kong Dong Dildo” in pink letters across the top. Below that there was a shape of what looked like two mudflap silhouette girls leg wrestling. A huge blue wiener was in the box, only the plastic wiener had heads on both ends instead of one. Mom wrestled the big fake wiener out of the packaging and handed it to me.

“You have to keep this hidden, Caryn. The boys can’t find this and your Dad can’t find it. Never ever.”

I didn’t know what to do with it. It was heavy. It was molded out of some kind of crazy Jell-o plastic that was thick and wobbly and firm, but not rock hard like Daddy’s pecker. It was almost twice as long as Daddy’s dick, and that was pretty long.

I looked at it suspiciously.

“I know,” Mom said. “But it’s almost the same size thickness as your Dad’s cock. Practice getting your jaw used to stretching around this dildo.”

Dildo. I’d never heard the word in my eleven and an half years. It was a funny word, but the big rubber pecker was absolutely bizarre. I sniffed it. It smelled awful. It smelled like chemicals. 

“Shit goddammit Caryn,” Mom grumbled. “Knock it off! Look.” She pointed to the price tag on the box. It was $70 dollars. That was a small fortune to us. That much I understood at eleven. “Do you think I’d spend this much money fucking around? You spend ten minutes every night before you go to bed practicing sucking on the end of that until your jaw can do it without biting. If you bite Dad’s cock, getting our kitty’s spanked raw is just going to be a warm-up for what he’ll do when he’s hard, mad, and hurt at the same time. Don’t fuck around. Practice. Every night except Tuesday and Thursday, and Caryn, I’m serious. I’ll burn this box in the trash barrel in just a few minutes. You do not. Get. Caught with this, okay? Keep it hid in your bottom drawer, under the pants, okay?

I nodded.

As soon as Mom left the room I hid the dildo. I didn’t practice that night. If I knew how soon her prediction about me sucking Daddy would come to pass, maybe I would have. I was eleven and a half. I told myself it would never really happen.

It happened less than a month later.

Considering that I can remember every minute, every smell, every taste, every texture of skin that crossed my tongue the whole night... it’s crazy that I can’t even remember what got us the Thursday Punishment in the first place. I remember it was something my Mom did. I think she got in some kind of pushing match with Gip over him watching TV instead of doing homework. I think he called Mom a whore and told her to shut up. He’d stopped calling Mom “Mom” after the first Punishment Night. Gip addressed Mom as Jennifer or Jen, just like Dad.  I’m not sure exactly how we got from Mom’s skirmish to punishment, but we did. 

Thursday before super, I was on my knees beside the tub, soaping Daddy’s pecker from bottom to top. I could tell he liked it best when I cleaned the top part and spiraled the suds around his cockhead. Daddy leaned back and was really moaning a lot. The higher I soaped on his pecker, the more he moaned. 

He always stopped me when he got too excited, so I waited for him to dismiss me. But he seemed to be having a really good time getting his dick washed. My little hand couldn’t even close all the way around Daddy’s pecker, so I had to twist it around a lot to get the soap bubbles everywhere. Thinking about what Mom had said to me, I started cranking one soapy hand around his swollen cock head and with the other hand I reached down in the warm water and gently rubbed Daddy’s balls.

Daddy’s legs kicked in the water. A big white jet of his spunk shot out of the tip of his pecker, maybe two feet in the air before it all came together in a big wad and splashed back down in the tub water. Then another squirt. And again. Four. Five. 

“Oh shit,” Daddy groaned. “Caryn, girl, you shouldn’t make your daddy come like that. Making men squirt their spunk is a job for whores. You don’t want to be a whore, do you?”

I shook my head. I did not want to be a whore. I wanted to be a good girl.

“We’ve got one whore in this house, we don’t need two.”

I was still spiraling a hand of soapsuds and sperm around the top of his pecker. Daddy pulled my hand off and I rinsed it in the tub water. I waited for Daddy to dismiss me, but he just laid there in the grey water. Instead of being happy like he usually was after Mom “snapped his bean,” he looked really sad.

“Jesus,” he muttered to himself. “Jesus fucking Christ, what did you do, girl?” Daddy looked at me like I’d said something that hurt his feelings. “Daughters should love their Daddies, but they shouldn’t whore for their Daddy’s spunk,” he said slowly. He almost looked like he was going to cry. He was drowning under guilt and remorse, but I didn’t understand that then. “Caryn... Jeez, honey. I told you not to do that.”

I knew I was in trouble for something, but I still wasn’t sure what kind of trouble I was in.

“Christalmighty, Carebear. Listen to me, willya? Daughters can tease their Daddy’s pecker but they shouldn’t please their Daddy’s pecker. Don’t you get it?”

I nodded. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Daddy sighed. “I’m sorry too, Caryn. I’m sorry you want to be a whore so bad, but if that’s what you want, then I guess that’s how I’ll treat you.”

“I don’t want to be a whore, Daddy,” I said. Tears of shame started welling up in my eyes. I wasn’t sure where I went wrong, but Daddy sure made me feel ashamed for whatever I did.

“Well, maybe we can start you over tomorrow then. Maybe you can earn your way out of being a whore when you take your punishment tonight. But I can’t just let it go. At least for the next ten hours, you’re a whore who jacked the spunk out of your own Daddy’s balls. Do you understand that?”

I did.

Daddy dismissed me and I ran into the kitchen bawling my eyes out.

Naked at the table, I could not eat. For the first time I was too ashamed to eat. There were no snacks in our cupboard. Just two meals a day and sometimes three after slaughter or after the truck came to collect the cow milk. Every previous other time I had been naked and waiting for spankings at dinner I still could eat. Not that night. Daddy was so quiet. I kept thinking about the look of disappointment on his face as he sloshed in grey water swirling with spirals of his spunk. I wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

I really knew I was in big trouble a little later when he called Mom for spankings first. She was the one who got us punishment, but he was all business with her. I think he only called her a whore twice.

Then Mom was back in the floor and Daddy was staring at me and shaking his head.

“Daughter,” he sighed, “Whore. Get up and present to me.”

I did. The tears started right away. I couldn’t help it. I’d never been so ashamed. I just stood there with my hands behind my back and crying. 

Daddy took a deep breath. “Boys,” he sighed. “Your sister... Well, you tell it, Caryn. Tell your brothers.”

I was crying so hard at that point I don’t know how anybody even understood what I was saying. “IjackedthespunkoutofDaddy’speckerandI’mawhore!”

“You boys get that? You’re whore sister has been taking advice from your whore mother, apparently. That little bitch reached down in the tub and stroked and jacked my pecker. Jacked it until I spewed. Can you fucking believe that?”

Gip and Steve played along and shook their heads in disgust.

“Did you like that, whore?” Daddy asked me softly. “Did you like jacking my pecker?”

“Noooo!” I bawled.

“Well you sure look like you did. You looked pretty pleased with yourself.”

“I thought you li-li-lked it, Daddy!”

“Liked it? Do I look like I’m proud of having a whore for a daughter?”

“No-oh-oh, Daddy!”

“I certainly don’t,” he whispered. “I most certainly do not. Over.”

He didn’t even pussy-check me. God almighty he laid into my bottom with a ferocity I’d never known before. From the first smack I lost all staying discipline, as he called it. My legs and arms tried to crawl off him, crawl to safety. I’d hear the crack of his hand and then a second later the heat of the blow would burn up through me in forest-fire waves. Crackity-crackity-ka pow. He worked my left ass cheek ten times in a row before he started on my right ass cheek. Then it was back and forth. Then it was low on my legs, working up a little higher to my back with each scarlet handprint. 

I kicked. I slapped at Daddy’s left leg. I corkscrewed. I didn’t stop one centimeter of his big hands from getting exactly where he wanted them to go. 

He stopped spanking and then five seconds later the heat of it all just ran together and washed up into my face. I tried to lift off his leg. but he held me in place by my hair. I didn’t know what he was doing, and then his spanking hand rained down again and somewhere between swat two and swat three I blacked out. Mercifully. I don’t know if he even stopped then. I just know I came to laying in my spot in the floor.

“Get to your chores, boys.” That’s the sound that brought me back to consciousness. 

“But dad,” Gip pleaded. “We didn’t even get our turn.”

“You’ll get yours,” Daddy said evenly. “Sometime between tomorrow and Monday night, your whore sister will jack you both.”

“When?” Gip asked.

“I don’t give a shit. Whenever you tell her, as long as y’all have your chores done. If she wants to be a whore, then she can see what it’s like to be a full-time whore.”

“What about Mom?” Stevie asked.

“Steven,” Daddy said in his most exasperated tone, “Shut up, Son. Just stick a sock in it.”

Daddy was not late to bed that night. Three minutes later I was still crying after I peed and mounted the steps. Daddy was in the middle of the bed with a stern, disappointed look on his face. Mom was late, so I had to just kneel on my side of the bed while Daddy glared at me like I was dirt.

I thought Mom would get spankings on her kitty for being late to Thursday Punishment bed, but she just crawled between Daddy’s legs and looked up at him. Daddy didn’t say anything, he just nodded. Mom leaned way up and kissed the face of Daddy’s pecker real hard and pulled it up with suction until she could slip her mouth around it and start working. 

I was waiting for Daddy’s usual command of “Jen, get down and work my pecker!” But he didn’t say anything. I sidled up to put my knees in Daddy’s hips and reached out to grab the middle of his shaft. Daddy swatted my hand away. I didn’t understand and he didn’t say anything to explain why I couldn’t grab it. As scary as Daddy was when his pecker was hard, or when he was mad, that was nothing compared to the terror of seeing Daddy’s rules change right in front of my eyes and not knowing what I was supposed to be doing. 

After a few minutes I tried to kiss Daddy on the lips, but he kept his lips real tight and didn’t kiss back at all. Around eight minutes in, I tried again, but Daddy ignored me just the same way. 

The second hand of the clock swung past eleven minutes and Daddy was still just laying there watching Mom bob her mouth all around his pecker. He was glaring. He looked just like he looked when he watched his Sooners on the TV and they were losing.

At thirteen minutes I saw something I’d never seen before. Daddy’s steel pecker began to wilt a little. It began to bend forward instead of backwards. Mom wasn’t gulping spunk, I knew that much.

I tried to remember what Mom had told me. She said to kiss him. That didn’t work. She said to put some honey in my voice and talk sweet.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry I was a whore. I want to be a good girl for you. I- i- I- was just having too much fun washing your pecker today,” I said. It seemed like a useful lie.

Daddy kept seething, but his breathing got a little deeper. His pecker started bending in the right direction.

What else had Mom told me? Kiss Daddy’s balls. Right. Soft kisses.

I had to scoot back a little and get my face under Mom’s bobbing head. My finger nails poured over Daddy’s nut sack. It was already kind of tight, but not all-the-way tight. Daddy flexed a little. It was working, His frost was melting, just a little. I leaned down and felt the heat from his crotch and Mom’s swinging boobs as I closed in on Daddy’s balls and pecked out a kiss. Then another. Then I tried to make my kisses extra soft and lippy. I wasn’t even sure where to kiss. On the fronts of them? On the bottoms? Should I pull the sack up and kiss the backs of Daddy’s balls? I tried a little bit of everything. Daddy’s ballsack started getting smaller and smaller. Mom grunted and moaned and really started going at Daddy’s pecker hard. Mom jostled up-and-down so hard that her big boobs started slapping into my cheek. 

“Okay, “ Daddy said loudly. “That’s enough.”

I pulled up. I thought he had squirted spunk. He said it just he sounded when he’d squirted all his spunk out and he was ready for kisses. Mom was still working his pecker really wild and hard. Her mouth was too far down on Daddy’s pecker for Daddy to be shooting spunk. She was making really deep mouth strokes. When she’d get as deep as she could go her face kind of vibrated. I figured out she was bouncing the very back of her throat on the tip of Daddy’s dick. It must have hurt her. I wondered why it didn’t make her gag or throw up.

“I said that’s enough,” Daddy was a little louder this time.

Mom disobeyed and kept moaning and slurping. Daddy got mad and reached down and grabbed his own pecker and yanked it out of Mom’s mouth. Mom was still trying to suck so hard that it made a pop when Daddy finally pulled it out of her mouth.

That’s when I noticed the clock. We were at nineteen and a half minutes. Daddy didn’t cheat. We just didn’t “snap his bean” in time. Daddy knew we were over, but he gave us some extra. He gave us extra time and we still didn’t get the spunk out of Daddy’s pecker.

“Get up, here, Whore,” Daddy said to Mom. She crawled up in the crook of his right arm.

“You know the rules, Whore,” Daddy said to me. “Caryn, get down and work my pecker.” 

I took too long crawling between Daddy’s legs and he barked at me for it. I reached up and grabbed Daddy’s pecker right in the middle, the way I always did. I pulled it back until it pointed at the ceiling the way I always did. I looked up and Daddy and Mom were both staring at me blankly. I put my lips to the head of Daddy’s pecker. It seemed hotter against my mouth than it did in my hand. Mom’s wet spit was still all over it. I looked at Mom and Daddy again, but there was no mercy in their expression. 

I’d never sucked the dildo mom gave me. Not even once. I was fucked.

I dropped my jaw open as far as I could and leaned in. Daddy’s peckerhead scraped between my teeth. I wasn’t looking at Daddy’s face at that point, so I don’t know if he showed any pain. I pushed and pushed and stretched my jaw until my ears popped. It was like trying to fit a whole Summer plum in my mouth without my teeth breaking through the skin.

Again I became acutely aware of the smell of Daddy’s pecker. I could smell his balls, too. Daddy’s pre-come oozed down on my tongue and I could feel the twang of the salt move across the taste buds on the back ridges.

I kept willing my head to move downward with my lips stretching farther and farther. Then the crown of Daddy’s pecker head was on the inside of my teeth and I had a little tiny bit of room to close my suction and bounce my suck up and down the way Mom did. 

The hot smoothness of Daddy’s peckerhead skin against my tongue was strangely satisfying. Mom’s spit didn’t taste like anything and my saliva quickly took over hers.

Daddy moaned. I looked up to see him and Mom start tongue-wrestling again. Sucking is a natural instinct, even if sucking a cock isn’t natural for an eleven year old girl. So I just did the best suck I could as far down on Daddy’s dick as I could, which wasn’t very far. Every minute or so the pain in my jaw got to be too much, too high in my cheeks under eyes, and I had to come all the way off Daddy’s pecker. I’d catch my breath and start back down on it again before Daddy could yell at me. Sometimes Daddy was watching me intently. Sometimes he was wet kissing mom. Once, as I was catching my breath, I looked up and Mom was lifting her boob into Daddy’s mouth while Daddy sucked away on her nipple and squeezed the other boob with his hand. 

I’d never seen Daddy suck Mom’s tits before in all the time I’d watched them sex each other.

THAT made my pussy go wet. I don’t know why. All those times I’d watched them. All the pussy rubbing before spanking. All the scratching Daddy’s balls and fingertipping his sticky cock in the dark. And it was seeing Mom lift her big tit into Daddy’s sucking mouth that made my pussy let loose with a slippery sex gush for the first time.

I don’t know how long I sucked. It felt like two hours but it was probably only ten minutes. My hair kept falling into my mouth as I sucked. I didn’t plan on that. It seemed like I was constantly pulling hair off my cheek and tucking it behind my ear. Very distracting. 

My jaw was absolutely on fire when I heard my Mom start talking really mean to me.

“Yeah, suck his dick, you nasty little whore!” 

I looked up as I made my little mouth bobs and saw Mom was talking to me. I was really hurt that she turned on me. Daddy was starting to breath hard.

“Don’t just sit there you Daddy cocksucking little whore!” Mom spat. “Work that pecker. Work that pecker, bitchwhore!”

My face heated up with shame again. About the time I thought I might start crying I caught a wink from Mom. 

**We. Us. Not just me. But us. It’s us against your Dad when he’s all blustery and bossy like that.** 

Mom’s words rang somewhere in my head. I could see Daddy breathing faster. I didn’t understand what Mom was doing, but it was obviously working. 

For the first time I moaned around Daddy’s dick, imitating what Mom did when Daddy got close to spewing. I started twisting my head a little more from side-to-side, working my tongue farther around the sides of Daddy’s pecker head.

“Oh for the love of GOD!” Mom said in Daddy’s trademark tone of disgust, “The little whore likes sucking her Daddy’s dick as much as she liked jacking it. More, even. Just look at her. Little whore better find her own cock to suck and leave my man’s dick alone. That’s my delicious spunk in my man’s---”

I don’t know what Mom said after that. Nothing prepares a girl for that first goopy explosion of semen in her mouth. Daddy didn’t have to tell me not to let go until he was finished squirting. I knew from all the times I watched him come in Mom’s mouth that I was supposed to keep sucking. But once you start choking on the strings of spew, you’re cooked. Survival instinct is stronger than the fear of getting your kitty spanked raw. I couldn’t keep riding the bull. I coughed my way off the tip while it was still bubbling white floes. I turned my head to hack some stringy sperm out to the side and -- just that fast -- Mom jumped down and swallowed Daddy’s pecker and moaned and twisted her head every which way while Daddy’s eyes nearly popped out and rolled down his cheeks. Mom even pulled off Daddy’s pecker long enough to stick her tongue out and chase all the dripping sperm that had run to the bottom of Daddy’s pecker. 

Mom winked at me again while Daddy was thrashing and arching backwards.

Daddy was still panting when Mom leaned back and turned off the lamp on her night stand. I willed myself to stop coughing and lay down on my side of the bed. Daddy moaned and rolled about for another couple of minutes. Then I heard him kissing Mom. 

I was surprised when he rolled to me and kissed me. Then his mouth opened and pushed my suck-swollen lips apart at the same time. Daddy’s hot tongue pushed into my mouth. It was a crazy feeling. It made my pussy warm and wet again. I hoped he didn’t pussy check me then. He’d know I was a whore for sure. He didn’t.

“Good job, Carebear,” Daddy said soft. There was something else ringing through the tone of his voice. I didn’t recognize it at eleven, but now I understand it was remorse and guilt. “That was an excellent way to show your Daddy you love him.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” It was all I could think to say.

“I, uh... Shit. I, uh, I want you to start over tomorrow as a good girl and not a whore,” he said.

“Thank you, Daddy.” I was going to cry again, but this time because I was happy. “Do I still have to jack Gip and Stevie?”

“Oh uh... “ Daddy looked like he was going to throw up. “We’ll burn that bridge tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep.”

That night wasn’t the end of my father’s molestation, but it sure put it on hold for for just about a full year.  The spankings stopped. At least for me. Mom got spanked once or twice more that year, but it was just Daddy and the boys in the TV room when he did it.  Daddy’s after-bath inspections became infrequent, and they were much more formal and less handsy and involved a lot less sniffing.  When he did inspect me he seemed to be looking for any sign that my boobs were growing. He was also looking at the outside of my pussy more closely, but he sniffed at the inner pink part a lot less.

On Tuesday nights I still scratched his balls, but he didn’t pull my hand up and tell me to rub his hard dick with my fingertips any more.

And Mom and Daddy stopped having sex on Thursday nights altogether. That was certainly odd.

It sounds funny to say I was a late bloomer, considering I had swallowed Daddy’s sperm when I was a flatchestd girl of eleven.  But my puberty didn’t start in earnest until after I was thirteen and maybe three months. That’s when I tried to pull a stray hair off the side of my mons in the bathtub to find out that it was attached to me.  My first little titty bubbles started right after that.

The first time that Daddy inspected me and saw my nipples raising up off my ribs just a little he smiled like did when a cow dropped a calf. He giggled when he pushed my legs back and saw the little whisp of fuzz around my kitty.

The very next Tuesday after the inspection that discovered my first wisps of pussy hair, Daddy pulled my hand higher after I scratched his balls and made me give him a finger job again. Daddy turned the light on and got up on his knees. He had me lay on my back while he knelt beside me and jacked his own dick with his hand while he looked at my naked body, all over. He jacked his pecker with his right hand and his left hand started going all up and down my front side. He rubbed my fuzzy little kitty a lot. He checked me to see if I was a wet whore, but I wasn’t.

Then he grunted and sprayed all over my belly and chest. I knew we were going back to the stuff we had done when I was eleven. 

I wasn’t sure what to do with the sticky, goopy mess Daddy dressed me in. It was hot when it hit my skin but it got cold and uncomfortable really fast.

“Rub it in,” Daddy said, still from his knees. “It’s good for your skin. No, both hands. There you go. Rub it into your tits until it starts to dry up.”

Daddy had obviously never rubbed his sperm into his skin because it didn’t dry up at all,  It just kept swirling around and getting colder.

“Push some down into your pussy. No, the inside part. Farther down. There you go.”

Daddy got tired of watching me rub his spunk all over me and he turned out the light.  I got under the covers and rolled on my belly until I had transferred most of Daddy’s sticky goo to the contour sheet.

Two nights later it wasn’t a punishment Thursday, but Daddy made Mom and me take turns sucking his pecker.  I straddled his hairy right leg. Mom straddled his hairy left leg. Daddy insisted that we hump against his shins until he could feel the warmth of our pussies.

Then he had us each take turns sucking for five minutes each. Mom started first and I stroked Daddy’s shaft while she sucked. Then I sucked while Mom stroked his shaft. He said whichever girl was working his pecker when he squirted would be his “special good girl” for the week. I didn’t care so much about being a “special good girl,” but we were working Daddy, so that meant the one of us who wasn’t a “special good girl” was probably going to be a “bad girl whore bitch.”  I didn’t want Daddy’s spunk in my mouth, but I wanted it more than I wanted one of his ass beatings.

Daddy started his heavy breathing after Mom and I had each had two turns sucking. I was sure that Mom was going to get it on the next shift change. Daddy squirted right as he was telling Mom to switch and let me suck. Mom never let go. Her mouth went to Daddy’s pecker head and he jerked on the bed while Mom’s throat gulped and gulped.  Mom turned out the light and there was a lot of kissing in the dark. There was a lot of Dad sticking his tongue against my tongue. Daddy’s hand started rubbing in and out of the folds of my pussy. I could hear Mom’s pussy make its trademark wet slapping sound and I knew Daddy was feeling both our kitties up at the same time.

I was a late puberty bloomer, but when it happened, it seemed to happen all at once. It was the summer of my thirteenth year. My mom said that the same thing happened to her. All her friends had their period before she even had a single pussy hair. But then it all jumped out of her in a matter of months.

For all the years where Daddy would inspect me, either in the bath or after the bath in my room, he’d pinch at my nipples and say, “Does that hurt? Does that feel tender? No? Not at all? Does it tickle at all when I do this? No? You sure?”

Well when my tits came on fast and big, I finally understood. It was like I had electricity running through my chest. I felt everything a girl is supposed to feel when her tits grow, only it all came in big waves. 

Mom actually got mad at me.  Bras were expensive and I exploded through the A, the B, and two C cups in less than five months.

My period started. Just like Mom I didn’t think it was ever going to come. When it came, I wanted it gone. I thought it smelled. I thought it was some kind of traitorous act of my body to get my ass beat by daddy when he sniffed me and inspected me and I was probably going to smell like the slaughter pit..

And speaking of my ass. Daddy really liked how my butt got a little bigger. “Oh, yes, yes, yes!” He’d say as he clucked his tongue and ran his big paws over my naked backside. “Finally. Finally!”

My brothers, eleven and twelve by that time, noticed my new equipment too. Especially Gip. He started pinching my shirt where my nipples were and grabbing a big handful of boob as I’d walk around a corner of the hallway into a room. Stevie was constantly looking at my chest when he talked to me. 

Boys. 

There’s one part that I kind of skipped over. That’s the part about the dildo mom bought me when I was eleven. I told you I didn’t even touch it before Daddy make me suck him that first time.  Well after that near-miss I did what Mom told me to do. Even though Daddy stopped molesting me during that time, I always kind of knew he’d start again. So the next night after when Mom didn’t make time and I had to suck Daddy for the first time, I started doing like Mom told me. After lights-out I’d scurry off the bed in the dark and ease my bottom drawer open and pull out that heavy monster.  I’d jump back in bed and turn my back to the door and practice sucking the big plastic head on the dildo. I hated the chemical taste of the rubber gel stuff it was made out of, but I practiced sucking it anyway.  I practiced until I could get it a little deeper and a little deeper into my mouth. I was nowhere near as deep on it as Mom was when she sucked Daddy’s pecker. She could get about two-fifths of Daddy in her mouth. I was lucky to get one-fifth. As I found out when Daddy put me back down on his pecker, one-fifth of a deep throat was enough to please Daddy.

I started to think about Sully when I practiced on the dildo. Sully was one of Daddy’s hired farm hands and he was pretty dreamy. He must have been in his mid-twenties, and he kind of looked like Rick Springfield, if Rick Springfield had been a cowboy. He was always winking at me and being real sweet to me. He talked to me like a grown up and I really liked that. Sully had an expression on his face when Gip was in the barn that kind of make it seem like he didn’t want to be around Gip. I didn’t know what to think about that, but when he was stand-offish to Gip and nice to me at the same time, it made me feel special and a little bit dizzy.

I had a fantasy that Sully and I got married and Daddy couldn’t make me work his pecker any more. Daddy had said he owned me until the day he walked me down the aisle, so why not hand me off to Sully?  It would probably be fun to sex Sully’s pecker. Sully’s spunk would taste like ice cream instead of a salty metal pipe. Sully wouldn’t call me a whore while I sucked him, he’d just keep saying “Oh, that’s a good girl, Caryn. You work my pecker sooooo good, Caryn!  Oh, you are the best wife, Caryn!”

After I sucked for a while the dildo would warm up in my mouth. When the dildo was warm and I was thinking about sexing Sully at the same time, I started to get the whore juice dribbling out of my pussy and onto my legs.

I knew that sooner or later a boy or my husband Sully or most likely Daddy was going to want to put his pecker in my pussy.  Boys liked being sucked, but they also wanted to fuck. Like a mouse in a pet snake cage, I knew that it was just a matter of time until I was fucked, and probably soon.

When the dildo head was warm and my pussy was wet from thinking about Sully, sometimes I’d put it down against my kitty and close my legs around it.  There were little round textured bumps on the dildo below the head and above the shaft, kind of the collar area of the rubber pecker. Daddy’s pecker didn’t have even little bumps like the dildo did, but when I’d pull the dildo up and down against the front of my wet kitty, I started to get the itch for more. The more I did it, the better I felt and the more I did it. Sometimes I’d push the blue dildo pecker head against my little pussy hole and try to look down at it in the moonlight. It sure didn’t look like the dildo would ever fit in my pussy, which also meant that Daddy’s pecker probably wouldn’t fit in my pussy either.

Somehow, Sully’s pecker would fit and it wouldn’t hurt and it would scratch that nagging little itch I could feel way up in my whore-wet kitty.

Daddy jacked on my growing tits every Tuesday and Mom and me sucked his Pecker every Thursday. Mom almost always got Daddy’s spunk. I got it maybe three times.

Daddy soon stopped jacking on my Tuesday tits and started sucking them when they got a little bigger. Sucking turned to chomping on my nipples. It didn’t hurt that bad, but it made my pussy wet and I didn’t like Daddy making my pussy wet. Not even when he started rubbing his fingers all over my pink insides. The rubbing felt good on my pussy and especially on my growing button, but it was Daddy so it still felt really wrong in my gut.

Daddy kissed me a lot, almost always with his tongue.

A few weeks before I turned fourteen, Daddy had me sucking his pecker almost every Tuesday night. Only he didn’t want me to get his spunk in his mouth unless it was the Thursday night contest with Mom. When it was just me and him he’d say, “Show Daddy you love him, Carebear. Now don’t suck dick like a whore. Just be a good girl and tease Daddy nice and gentle.”

After Daddy had enough teasing, he’s say, “Okay, Carebear, get your mouth off and jack Daddy’s pecker.” 

I’d pump his pecker head in a fast handjob until the foot-and-a-half fountain of while spew flew up in the air. Then he made sure I didn’t stop jacking the sloppy mess until he had it all out of his balls and he told me to stop.

A few times he was really really hard and ready when he said, “Show Daddy you love him, Carebear.”  After a couple of minutes of my softest suck he jizzed in my mouth anyway. Then he’d act like he was mad at me and he’d call me a peckersucking whore. He wasn’t nice to me after the light went out.

It wasn’t many weeks later that I turned 14. On my birthday (which was a Sunday, I remember) I found out that Daddy’s big pecker really would fit inside my pussy.  It probably took seven or eight fuckings before it stopped hurting real bad. I had one fucking where it almost felt good. Then Daddy started fucking me doggy and it hurt all over again. He never squirted inside me. He always pulled out and I felt the hot line of his come shots criss-crossing my back or my neck. I was so small compared to Daddy, and Daddy would grind his balls into my ass as he squirted, which meant his dick was almost half way up my spine when he pumped his spunk.  I always got a lot of his spew in the back of my hair.

After the first time Daddy fucked me doggy, he called me Carebear when I sucked and then bitch this and whore that when he fucked me. That’s also when he started turning me upside down on the bed when he fucked me, even when it was missionary. I still have no idea what that was all about.

There were still Tuesdays and Thursdays when I was 100 percent sure that I was going to get Daddy’s pecker either in my mouth or in my pussy or both. Daddy also started showing up at my bed on other nights too. Sometimes right before I turned off the light. Sometimes I’d wake up to him coming in before the 3:30 a.m. milking for a quick suck or fuck. (Usually a fuck because he was in a hurry and could control the pace).  Sometimes he’d wake me up at 4:20 on his way back to bed from the early milking.

When I sucked Daddy in his bed, I knelt on the bed between his legs. When I sucked Daddy from my bed, he wanted me kneeling in the floor while he sat on the edge.  Mom and Daddy’s frame and mattress was too high for that to work, but my bed was just the right height for me to kneel in the floor and suck dick. I almost liked it better that way because I wasn’t always pulling hair away from the corners of my mouth when I was kneeling.

My pussy would get wet in anticipation of Daddy’s fuck. That doesn’t mean I liked it any better, but my pussy knew it was inevitable and she’d slick up around the times she knew a fucking was either certain or even possible. Once Daddy kissed me with his tongue, I knew I was going to suck his pecker and probably take a steady dicking in my kitty. My pussy thought of juicing up as self-defense, but Daddy thought I was just a wet pussy whore who liked boys too much.

Maybe three months later I squirted on Daddy’s pecker when he was fucking me doggy and he knew right away that I had orgasmed. He didn’t shut up about it for a week. He started calling me a whore in front of my brothers.  He told my Mom a dozen times when i was in earshot that I’d squirted on his pecker like a summer squall.

I brought home another bad report card and Dad didn’t even wait until a Thursday to strip me and Mom at dinner and put us both through his punishment ritual for the first time in two and a half years. 

My pussy was as wet and loud as Mom’s when Daddy checked me.  His spanking was so viscous it left my eyes crossed when I stood up.

Since the last time I’d been punished in front of the boys, there was some seriously messed up dynamic brewing between Gip and Mom. Gip was asserting himself more and more as Mom’s boss.  He’d even grabbed Mom and slapped her clothed ass real hard. There was a lot of pushing and when Mom took it to Daddy, Daddy really didn’t do anything at all. He didn’t stick up for Mom and he didn’t give Gip permission to discipline Mom either. Daddy’s refusal to referee just ensured that the tension in the house festered.

Daddy had started training both Gip and Stevie to box. There was a Silver Mittens league in a town a couple miles North of our farm. Daddy ran most of their training from the farm. There was a heavy bag hanging from a chain in the little tractor barn.  The tractor barn had a wooden floor that Daddy said was good for jumping rope and practicing footwork. Gip and Stevie were both natural boxers. They’d spar each other. Stevie could hold his own against Gip, even though Gip was almost a head taller.

Gip hit his puberty early. He was already sprouting up into a full blown man and starting to get furry arms like Daddy’s.  I think Daddy injected Gip and Stevie both with Growth Hormone. I know he gave them some kind of shots in their butts.

I mention all this because when Gip took his spot in the punishment chair, I looked at him and knew I was in big trouble. Not only because of his bigger size and his muscles, but he was bulging out really big in his pants and he had a really snarky, shit-eating grin on his face. He looked kinda evil. 

When Gip checked my pussy he didn’t rush through it. He rubbed for a long time. He also had learned what a clitoris was because he was working my button hard and making me jump up on my toes. Gip smiled his evil smile and ran his index finger around my clit over and over. 

Of course he was just brutal on my tits and especially my nipples. He pinched hard. He twisted hard. He pulled and stretched way hard and way far. He almost made me fall over, he stretched my nips so hard.  Between my tears I could see the wetness on his lips and I knew he was actually drooling. Drooling. Can you believe it? My own brother was twisting the living shit out of my boobs and his mouth was watering. Not only was it humiliating, but I knew it meant there was more of Gip and his hard dick to deal with in my future.

Gip’s spanking was harder than Daddy’s spanking. The cumulative heat on my buns was... Fuck. It was awful. I don’t even want to think back and remember how bad that ass beating was. What I can remember most is how much my neck hurt from Gip twisting my hair back to try and keep me still and in place while the cracks against my ass echoed around the living room. That and Gip grinding his hard-on into my stomach.  My ass was so bruised that a week later I still had this giraffe print kind of pattern of bruise splotches all the way down to the backs of my thighs.

Gip was just as hard on Mom. When Mom was over Gip’s lap, Gip stuffed two fingers up into Mom’s vagina and twisted them all around.  That was the first time I heard the word “cunt.”  Gip called Mom a cunt.

As Mom thrashed and screamed under Gip’s ass beating, all I could think was that I was glad it was her and not me.  Daddy was definitely “out there,” but Gip was acting more and more like a psycho.

God bless Stevie. If he’d laid into me, I’d have ended up in a hospital with third degree burns. I was already flirting with blisters when he took the punishment chair. 

Stevie rubbed my pussy with a really curious look on his face. His hands mapped out all of my boobs, not just the nipples, but he pulled them pretty hard too. I think it hurt worse because Gip had already tried to pull them off.

And then he spanked me. It was solid. It was firm. It hurt like holy hell.  I cried and thrashed from the first swat. But Stevie didn’t spank me nearly as hard or long as Daddy or Gip. I’d go so far as to say that if Stevie was any less firm in his discipline, he probably would have heard about it from Daddy.  He did what he had to do.  I just wish Stevie had spanked first instead of last.

Before Daddy walked out of the room he said, “I promised the boys if they won their first interleague sparring bout that they could have their pick of whichever one of you two whores they want to jack or suck their peckers.”

Daddy didn’t have to tell us they both won. We’d been hearing about it constantly for the last week.

“And I’ve also made it perfectly clear,” Daddy continued, “that both your whore pussies belong to me. There will be no pussy fucking of my whores unless it’s my pecker doing it. The boys know that. If either of them try to stick a pecker in one of my pussies, you whores... Well.... You still goddamn do what you’re told by the men of this house, but you be sure and let me know and there will be hell to pay with me. I goddamn guarantee you that it won’t happen twice.”

The sex Daddy made me do a few minutes later was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had to do.  He had Mom and me both go to all fours right next to each other, only pointed in different directions. My shoulder was against Mom’s hip. Then he knelt on the bed in front of me and made me suck his pecker for a while.  Then he pulled out of my mouth and pushed straight into doggy fucking Mom’s pussy really hard. We were both so blistered from Punishment Night that Mom cried when Daddy’s abs slapped against her butt while he bitch-fucked her.

Then the sumbitch pulled out of Mom’s pussy and stuck his wet pecker back in my mouth. I almost puked. There was like a gallon of Mom’s pussy gunk on Daddy’s cock. I didn’t suck Daddy the way he wanted right away so he grabbed my ears and jammed his dick in my throat over and over for a long time. I started coughing, but he would have ripped my ears off if I pulled back any harder.

Then he was back in Mom’s pussy. Then back in my mouth. Over and over. Every time he pulled out of Mom’s pussy there was a whole wad of Mom’s gloppy pussy stuff on Daddy’s pecker. I learned my lesson and sucked it anyway. 

Mom’s whore-juice didn’t taste like much of anything but it was still the most disgusting moment of my life, at least for a few minutes longer. I wanted to die. The fact that I was tasting my own mom’s vaginal secretions... Bleh. That’s not sexy. That’s just fucking sick.  After everything Daddy had put me through, I never really hated him until he made me taste my Mom,s pussy. I started hating him that night and I don’t think I ever stopped.

Daddy eventually spunked into Mom’s pussy and he lay back and flopped on the bed. Then he made me lick all the come and pussy juice off his shrinking dick.

Mom took her place up on the pillow and reached for the lamp light. Daddy stopped her. 

“I told that little whore to lick up all my spunk,” Daddy said, nodding at me.

“I did, Dad. I licked up every drop,” I said.

“You cleaned my pecker up okay,” he said, “But you didn’t get every drop of my spunk.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. My Mom looked really uncomfortable.

But she had to do what she had to do, the same way that Stevie had to spank me the way that Stevie was expected to spank me.

“Little whore,” Mom said, “Suck my man’s spunk out of my twat.”  She opened her legs.

I’m not going to tell you what it was like. Actual pussy tastes different than pussy juice. At least it was probably a tiny bit less awful because of Daddy’s fixation with our hygiene. I’ll tell you that I did a lot of pretending that I was licking when I wasn’t. There wasn’t much of Daddy’s spunk running out of Mom right after sex. That takes a few minutes for the sperm to warm up and thin out and go liquid. And then when sperm comes back out of a pussy it’s more clear than white, so it’s not easy to see what is sperm and what is pussy juice, especially when your pussy juice is really thick and foamy like mine. And Mom’s. 

So I did it. Then I said I was done and Daddy had lost interest in the sex show. The light went off and I lay there and tried not to throw up.  It took a long time before the urge to yak passed and I could get some sleep. I’d never fantasized about killing my Dad before that night, but I lay there and envisioned me walking up behind him with the stove poker and just crushing his skull in, over and over.

Since all I’m talking about is sex sex sex, it makes it sound like we were living on the set of a porn movie. That’s because I’m cutting out all the stuff about school. I’m cutting out all the stuff about doing my farm chores. In addition to my shifts cleaning and slopping the pigs, and in addition to my shifts cleaning and feeding chickens, and in addition to my turns at milking those fucking cows three times a day every fucking day of the fucking year, Mom and I had our non-sexual “woman’s chores.” The boys could find an hour to watch television every day, but that’s when Mom and me were washing and folding laundry. Daddy might watch the Sooners game for three hours on a Sunday, but that’s when Mom and me were sweeping. Or changing spunk-stained sheets. When Daddy was training Gipper and Steven to box, Mom and I were running for groceries or cooking dinner or even taking some of the men’s shifts at chores.

You wonder why my grades were so bad? Part of it was because what little time I had before for homework I did in my bed before I dropped off to sleep. Once I became the family sex slave, I didn’t even have that time at my discretion any more.

My guidance counselor didn’t know about the sex slave part, but she understood the farm girl life. She set up a thing where it was mandatory for me to stay after school three days a week for an hour. Technically an hour and fifteen minutes.  Monday, Wednesday, Thursday. Daddy was furious about that.  Not only did it cut into my farm chores and housework chores, but it meant he or Mom had to drive into town to pick me up from school instead of me taking the bus home.

He told the guidance counselor that there was no way I was staying at school three more hours every week, but somehow Daddy lost a fight for the first time in his life. I think the guidance counselor lady told him how close I was to flunking out of school altogether and there wasn’t really a choice about it.

Me? Hell, I LOVED having three hours a week to sit in the school library where it was air conditioned and quiet and nobody was telling me what to do or sticking a pecker in me.  I ate it up. Even though it made getting my home chores even harder to get caught up on, it was worth it. My grades started getting better too.

If I had zero free time in the house before I started the after school study program, I had less-than-zero time after I started. If no one was looking I half-assed a lot of my chores. I didn’t always run the sanitizer rinse through the pressure hose when I cleaned the concrete pig pads in the barns. I didn’t spread slop in the troughs evenly, so the big sows got more than they should have. I shoveled shit like... Well... Like shit.  I didn’t always completely wait for the pressure valve on the milkers to decompress before I pulled them off the teats, which really pissed off the cows. 

So the Saturday afternoon when I was cycling a mountain of laundry into the washer and Gip walked in all sweaty from running six miles and he said, “Drop that bullshit messin’ round, Whore. Get some hot water on the stove for my bath.”

… I snapped.

We always got our own hot bath water, except for Daddy, and then only on special occasions. (If you count beating whore ass as a special occasion).

“Get your own fucking bath water!” I shouted.

Big mistake.

The light in Gip’s eyes flipped from bossy to bull’s eye red. He turned out to be a lot stronger than I thought.  He bounced me all over the porch room where we kept the washer.  He didn’t punch. It was just a bunch of grabbing and pushing me into the wall. Then the washer. Then the wall. Then the dryer. 

I was crying on the floor when he pulled me up by my hair and pinned me back against the wall. He pulled the string of his sweat pants and they dropped down. With his free hand he pushed his tighty-whiteys down to his knees and I got my first look at Gip’s dick since he was a little boy. Gip had inherited his father’s dominance, but not his father’s giant pecker.  At that point, I had no concept of “average” in terms of penis size. Daddy’s pecker was my only frame of reference. I’d seen some of Daddy’s girly mags, but when there were pictures of guys in those photo spreads they were always half-limp, and they still looked just about the same size as Daddy’s pecker when it was half-hard.

Gip’s dick wasn’t much bigger than a jumbo hot dog. A little thicker than a bratwurst, even though Gip was all-the-way hard. 

It was also sweaty and a choking fog of ass and body odor rolled into my face when Gip’s underwear dropped. 

“You don’t want to wash my pecker and get it nice and squeaky clean before you suck it, like you do for the old man?” Gip thumped my head against the wall with every third word he said. “Well have it your way, Whore. Suck my sweaty prick.”

I did.

Gip didn’t have to throat fuck me. I just sucked. Gip kept his hand on the top of my head, his fingers in my hair, but he let up enough that I could move my head in and out. With the size difference, I found myself sucking a lot deeper. My eyes kept closed, but I knew I had it almost all in my mouth. I could feel Gip’s bushy pubic hairs tickling the end of my nose.

Less than two minutes and Gip was shooting spunk into my suck.  He leaned forward into the wall so I couldn’t back all the way off the end of his dick and avoid the mouthful I got. Smaller dick. Bigger comer. There must have been ten big squirts of spunk against the back of my throat. Daddy always shot two long shots, one small shot, and then a long dribbling ooze of white. Gip’s spew was relentless. Pow. Pow. Pow. Gulp. Pow. Gulp. Pow. Gulp.

Girls learn to take the spunk on the back of their tongue so we don’t have to taste it as much. Gip’s come filled my mouth before I could get it swallowed down. I tasted every bit of it.  It had a creamier taste than Daddy’s spew. It wasn’t as bitter. It wasn’t as salty. It was just hot and bland. And plentiful. 

“Now,” Gip said as he pulled out of me, “Get your Whore ass in the kitchen and get my bath on the stove.”

I did as I was told.

He had me take off my shirt and bra and wash his dick, balls, and butt while he felt me up. I thought I was going to have to suck him again, but he didn’t get all the way hard.

When it was over I hurried back to the porch and went right back to the laundry. Daddy wasn’t going to care that I’d lost an hour and twenty minutes of my day to whoring and running bath water and soaping Gip’s butt crack. Chores had to get done, even if it meant you didn’t sleep.

Stevie never came for me. He must have picked Mom to do his dirty work. That surprised me. Mom and I crossed paths at the burn barrels the next day as we were both pouring out trashcans from different places.

“You don’t have to worry about Gip,” I said. “He got me.”

Mom laughed a sad laugh. “Honey, he got both of us.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You know better. Devious little shitburger.”

“Did you get Steve?”

“I got Steve,” Mom answered matter-of-factly without looking at me.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Why, Caryn. You jealous or something?”

“No, I’m... I’m just surprised he came to you.”

“He didn’t come to me. I took it to him first.” Mom banged the kitchen trash can against the barrel trying to dislodge some sticky paper towels at the bottom.  She looked me up and down. “You looked like you could use a break.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“You look like shit, Caryn.”

“Fuck you, Mom,” I smiled.  I’d never said that before, but it was funny and Mom smiled like she thought so too.

“This will end, Caryn,” Mom turned to take her empty cans back to the house. “For you, anyway. This will end for you.”

In that moment I realized how much I loved my Mom in spite of her inability to protect me from my father and my brothers.

The what-came-next part is no big twist. You know what came next.  Replay. Replay. Replay. You can’t just suck a boy’s dick once and expect that he’ll just go away and stay away. That bell could not be unrung. Mom and me were no longer rewards for boxing victories. We were just common sex slaves.

The only twist was the next time Gip tried to throw me around I held up my hand and said, “I’ll suck your pecker. I’ll stroke your pecker. But Gip if you hurt me again, so help me God, I’ll tell Daddy you fucked me in my pussy.”

“You will not.”

“God’s honest, I will.”

“He won’t believe you, Whore.”

“You ready to put that to the test?” I looked him straight in the eye. Gip was not ready to test my threat.

Gip was a teenager and insatiable. Gip maintenance rarely skipped a single day, but it only took five minutes, tops.  I swallowed all his spunk. As much as Gip squirted, what else was I going to do with it?  It was too much for even a shirt to contain if he painted me. I’d just have to get a mop and clean up a big puddle. Or I’d have to wipe off with a bath towel which I’d just have to wash later.  So I just swallowed it.

Eventually we fell into a routine on weekdays mornings where I’d go to the room Gip and Steve shared. I’d duck in there about ten minutes before the bus arrived and pull my shirt up and my bra down so my tits spilled over the tops of the cups. I got down on my knees and Gip dropped his pants and sat on the edge of his bed. 

We never missed the bus.

Sometimes Stevie watched us while I worked Gip.

When I was sixteen and Stevie had just turned fourteen, Stevie eventually started making demands on me too.  He looked guilty and sheepish, but free blow jobs are just too much temptation for a teenage boy to leave on the table. At least Stevie tried to work his demands around when I wasn’t insanely busy. 

And he was kind of nice about it. He was direct, but not bossy or mean.

Stevie’s cock was a little bigger than Gips, but still nothing like Daddy’s.  This sounds weird, but Stevie’s dick was beautiful. You don’t hear people say that a lot about dicks, but there was something about Stevie’s pecker that was really... Well... pretty.  It didn’t have any big blue veins. It was real evenly colored from bottom to top. The head was perfectly proportioned to the shaft. It was just... I don’t know how to say it any other way. Stevie had a pretty cock.

Unfortunately, even at fourteen, he had a lot more stamina than his evil older brother. Stevie was no five minute blow job.  He took as long as daddy, sometimes even longer.  I had to look him in the eye like I did when I sucked Daddy. I had to wiggle my butt back and forth like I did when I sucked Daddy.  I had to moan like I did when I sucked Daddy. Sometimes I’d forget that I was acting and I put a hard licking all over Stevie’s cock shaft while I purred and moaned.

Stevie wanted me to pump and stroke the base of his dick while my mouth worked the top. It was a lot of physical work. I’m not the most coordinated girl and it took a few times to get the hand of doing two things at once.

Stevie was the my first talker, too. He was as bad as you are, Skip. A motormouth. About half way through the blow job it was all “Oh yeah, baby. Oh yeah, Sis. Suck me good, Sis! Oh that’s nice, Care-Care.”  Of course when he was close to squirting spunk it was all “Suck it, bitch! Suck my pecker, bitch!”  But that was okay. Whatever got Stevie over the edge was fine. I’d been called worse. Daily.

Stevie was a funny squirter, though. The first time he came in my mouth it really fooled me. It was big sticky loads, just like Gip, but it was One-Two-Three, really hard shots. It was so hard that I could feel his prick thump really hard in my hand as he blasted away at my tonsils. I swallowed it all up. (Of course.) As I was pulling off he told me “No,” and pushed me back down on his pecker. I thought he wanted me to suck his pipe dry, so I slurped at it a little more and realized Stevie wasn’t wilting. He was still rock hard.  So I went back at it all trampy like the boys liked.  Two minutes later there was another cock thumping and Bam! Bam! Bam!  Three more sizeable shots of spew flooded my mouth.  Again I pull off and again he pushes me back down and Stevie is still rock fucking hard.  I’m thinking, “Holy fuck. What have I got myself into with this one?”  Another minute of cock slurping and working my tongue and Stevie arched his back and grunted and then came one more small flood on top of my tongue. That was it for Stevie. 

He’d help me stand back up off my knees. Lifted me up. Stevie hugged me after I sucked his dick. He never kissed me, but he hugged me.  

Stevie came for me once a month maybe. Once every six weeks when Daddy had to cut back on his hired hands during a poverty stretch when we all got assigned double chores.  When I saw that twinkle in Steve’s eye, I knew I was in for a jaw bender. But I didn’t mind.  His spunk tasted bland and creamy, just like Gippers. Maybe a little more salty. They both ate the same things once they started in on training, so maybe that made their spew taste the same. Maybe it was just genetics. Who knows?

All the sex slave stuff stopped for a week when Daddy’s brother came to visit. I know what you are expecting me to say next, but that’s wrong. Daddy’s brother was a reverend and he was pretty well off. Uncle Wallis had worked his way up to one of those mega churches in a big city. He was loaded.  Not only did he make a big wage, but all his expenses were covered in his benefit package, so the church bought him a nice house and he drove a nice car.  Uncle Wallis was actually a pretty good looking guy. When I looked at Uncle Wallis, I saw what Daddy would have looked like if he’d picked an easier career than buying that stupid fucking life-draining farm.

Uncle Wallis had lost his wife and his son in a boating accident when I was nine.  We couldn’t go to the funeral because we couldn’t leave the farm. There were some hard feelings between Daddy and Uncle Wallis after that, but Uncle Wallis eventually let it go.  Uncle Wallis knew that if he was going to see Daddy, he had to travel to the farm, and so he did. He stayed at a hotel in town, but the sucking and fucking stopped anyway.

I was about to turn seventeen. Uncle Wallis took us out to dinner at a nice restaurant in town and told us that his benefit package had a perq in it to send his kids to college in his (neighboring) state’s university system.  Even though Randy (his son) was dead, he could still transfer that benefit to a relative if he wanted to.

Then he asked me if I wanted to go to college for free. I dropped my fork.

We were so poor and my grades were so bad, college was a crazy Neverland concept. I assumed I’d be the family sex slave until the boys got married, moved away, and Daddy lost interest.

Mom started bawling with joy about the time Daddy was working up to telling Uncle Willis no.  Daddy never got his objection out. Mom stood up and walked over to Uncle Willis and cried on top of Uncle Willis’s head. Daddy was embarrassed, but I thought it was really sweet.

All I had to do was find a State school in Uncle Willis’s state that would accept me and get an ACT score just high enough that the admissions department wouldn’t laugh in my face.

That was that.

After Uncle Willis left the farm, Daddy started fucking me like he knew his all-access pass to my tight pussy was running out. He was never a gentle lover but golly jeez I got my muff pounded hard. That’s when I started squirting on Daddy’s pecker a lot.  He had a dominant desperation about him. Maybe there was a pheromone coming off him that I was smelling that got up in my brain when his big dick head hit that spot way down in my pussy.  I just know there was something in my cunt  that responded to the way his big man hands locked around the tops of my hips and took control of my entire body. He’d pull me down into his thrust and the smashing together of solid man angles with my soft girly curves was a kind of simple perfection. There was a sense of completion inside my gut when I was absolutely manhandled with Daddy’s intensity. Even at Seventeen I knew I liked the idea of being tied up and taken hard. I didn’t want that from Daddy though. There was no trust for Daddy. For some reason guys think that women who like being tied to the bed like it for the unpredictability potential of the sex. Maybe some girls do, but I don’t. I like the idea of being tied up for exactly the opposite reason. I want something very specific, very known. When my cunt it itchy for attention I want to be consumed.  I want to be chewed up and gnawed on by the animal intensity of a man who is out of his fucking mind with need. When a guy takes what he wants and it hits all the right spots and lasts the right amount of time... Now that’s the best.  That’s the difference between a regular orgasm and a squirter.

With ACT tests in my future I thought I should start making the most of my mandatory after school study sessions. My guidance counselor kept pressuring me to take advantage of the school’s tutoring program while I was sitting in my study hour. I signed up for some help with biology and math. They assigned me to this goofy guy named Rusty. He was a Junior, younger than me but a braniac.  Rusty was a redhead but not a ginger.  He was tall and lanky like you, Skip. He also had a really funny side to him like you do, Skip.  He wasn’t super cute, but I could tell he liked me. He was a big flirt. I’d catch him staring at my tits all the time.  He was also really patient. No comment there, Skip. 

I took the ACT for the first time in the fall of my Senior year and I gacked it. Bad. Thirteen-kinda bad. I started to panic. No College Admissions Dean was going to accept a girl with a two point one grade average and a thirteen on her ACTs, no matter how much cock she sucked in any given day.

Rusty said that I was smarter than I gave myself credit for. He said I had test anxiety and it wasn’t so much a matter of what I did or didn’t know as it was thinking about the whole test differently.  It was the first time somebody ever acted as if maybe I really did have a brain.

I started thinking about Rusty more and more when I was doing my chores. No. No. I didn’t play with the dildo and think about him. I stopped playing with the dildo after Gip and I came to our agreement about his daily blow job. By the time I made it to my bed at night, all I wanted to do was get some precious sleep before somebody woke me up by sticking his dick in my mouth.  The dildo stayed hidden in my bottom drawer.

No, it was just a slow building crush. Common as cornflowers. 

Rusty picked up on my smiles. One day in late October he told the Teaching Assistant responsible for the afterschool study session that he was “checking me out of the school library and taking me to the County library.” 

The TA didn’t care. Rusty was a solid kid. National Honor Society. Basketball hero. Treasurer of the Student Council.  As long as Rusty had me back in the library in an hour, we could go to the County library in Craighead.

So we went to the ‘big’ library. Rusty drove me in his F-150. He played the radio too loud and drove too fast. It was awesome. We didn’t do anything at the County Library except pretend to read and flirt a lot.

Our runs to the County library got to be a habit. Two out of every three weekly sessions Rusty “checked me out.”  If the snow was bad we didn’t try, because we knew we couldn’t make it to the town square and back in an hour and fifteen minutes, even if we only drove past the Library and waved. Most of the time we went to the County library I did study. Really. 

Right before Christmas I took the ACT again and got a 19. Not great, but good enough.  I put in for (our university) and (the other big university across the state).  I had an acceptance letter from (our university) by Valentines Day.  All I had to do was not flunk any of my high school classes and I’d be pissin’ in tall cotton the next Fall.

Some of the pressure seemed to evaporate, but Rusty was on me to not let up. He had all these ideas for how I could change my room around to be a better student. Ways to organize, yaknow? He kept saying that he’d come by the farm on the weekend and show me how to get organized. The we could go to a movie. Of course, I had to make excuses. Daddy or Gip would have been more likely to shoot him and throw his corpse in the Boar pen than shake his hand and treat him like a decent visitor. 

At the end of February, we were making our run to Craighead County Seat and we got a few blocks from the School and Rusty turned a different way and pulled into a driveway at a house in town. He said he needed to change his contact lens, and I should come in and see his house and it would only take a second, right?

Of course, there was nobody home. His parents were both still at work. You know where this is going, don’t you?  He showed me his room and how he had his desk organized with all these little plastic racks with labels on them. 

We turned to walk out of his room and he grabed my arm, spun me around, and planted a toe-tingler right on my lips.  No tongue, but it’s a helluva kiss.  Thirty seconds later we were rolling all over his unmade bed, making out. I know the smell of come and his sheets smelled like come and aftershave. I could see his boner popped in his pants. I felt it stabbing my leg when he rolled back and forth across me as he kissed me from one side and then the other. 

He was very gentle, and totally respectful. If he’d have yanked his pants off and said “Suck my dick, bitch!” I would have probably reflexively dropped to my knees and started smoking pole before he made it to the exclamation point. He didn’t. He was really sweet. He kept telling me how pretty I was. 

We didn’t have a lot of time and he didn’t even cop a feel. We climbed back in his truck and drove two blocks back to school.  Rusty was blushing as we walked back in the school library before dismissal. I’m sure I was too.

We never went to the County library again. 

Twice a week we went to Rusty’s bedroom and made out.

It took Rusty four makeout sessions to finally get his hand up my shirt.  Five to push my shirt up and suck my nips. Six to finally figure out that my complete lack of resistance made it easier to just take my shirt off all together.

He was so complementary. He kept telling me how pretty I was and how perfect my boobs were. He said a hundred times that I was more beautiful than any girl in Playboy and I should be a model.  He was a little sweetheart. 

Rusty must have had balls that were bright blue. I kept waiting for him to unzip.  I’m sure I would have blown him or fucked him if he just took off his pants and looked at me with an expectant look in his eye.  Poor kid just kissed and groped and sucked.  He wasn’t the shy type, just... well, like I said before, Rusty was very patient.

Early in April Rusty finally got around to unzipping my jeans and sticking his fingers into my sopping pussy. My clit is hard to miss, but goddamn if he was everywhere on my twat except where it counted. Me? I was having fun. I was the center of attention, in a good way for once. The submissive girlfriend in me wanted to take pity on the boy. I knew I should probably take matters in my own hands and speed things along.  But I liked how hard Rusty was trying to woo me. In his mind I might storm out and pout if he pushed me too far. He didn’t want to screw up a good thing, so was actually trying to win me over. I assumed all the chivalry would end the moment his spunk squirted in my mouth. He’d probably call me a whore and give me the Look of Disgust like Daddy and Gip did after I sexed them. Well... they gave me that disgusted look before, during, and after sex.

I didn’t love Rusty, but I really liked him. He was a good guy. He treated me like I was special and that was different. Nice. I felt valued for the first time in my life.

Late in April, with only three weeks left in my high school career, Rusty finally pulled my pants off and then he stripped naked too.  His pecker was the same size as Gip’s, so I naively thought it was small instead of average.  But it had a crazy curve to it.  It had a deep bend in the top of it. It wasn’t “bent nail.” Just an unnatural upcurve.  When he stood up next to the bed, his dick poked almost directly back into his stomach. If he turned sideways it would have made a complete “D” shape.

He already knew I’d never had a real boyfriend, so I guess he assumed I was a virgin. Maybe that’s why he moved so slow.

I’d never orgasmed while fucking missionary before, and I didn’t that first day with Rusty either. I probably would have if we’d had more time. We were constantly watching the clock and that kills romance and orgasms.  But for the first time, that crazy cock head of Rusty’s grinding really hard into a tickle-spot I didn’t even know I had in the top of my pussy wall...  Fuck!  I soaked those sheets down to the mattress pad.  I just flooded everything. It was a great fucking.  It was the first time I’d really sexed someone outside my family and it was terrific on so many levels.

Rusty wore a rubber, which was another first for me.  I don’t know what kind of comer he was, because he collapsed on top of me and kissed me for a long time after he popped his nuts. Then he was a big flurry of pulling out and getting dressed because we were running late. I never saw him take off the condom.

The next week was better. I was more comfortable with Rusty. I wasn’t as concerned with the clock.  Rusty’s pokey cock head kissed right into that sweet spot in the top of my pussy and it danced all up and down it.   I shook harder than I’ve ever shook when I orgasmed. I squirted so much sugar floe that it started to pool around my ass in the bed dimple.

Poor Rusty. After he came he kissed me. He actually told me that he loved me. Stupid jerk.  I didn’t say anything back. I didn’t want to love anybody.

By the time we got back to school we were running across the parking lot to get to the library in time to be dismissed.  Somebody sitting in a parked truck laid into the horn right as we ran past the front of them. We both jumped out of our skin. Then I looked over and saw it was Daddy. He was never on time to pick me up. Never. 

There he was.

He looked pissed.

He jumped out of the truck and walked right at us.

“Where you been?” he shouted at me.

Stupid Rusty extended his hand toward my Dad. “Hey, Mr. LeRoy, I’m Rusty, Cary--”

“I ain’t talkin’ to you, Son. You.” Daddy pointed in my face. “Where have you been?”

Rusty didn’t give up. “Mr. LeRoy, we were at the County Libr--”

“Goddammit, Son,” Daddy turned red. “When I want to hear from an asshole, I’ll fart. Now shut the fuck up or the next time you open your pie hole you’re going to wake up in traction at Mercy Regional.”

I wanted to die. “W-w-we were at the County library.”

Daddy tilted his head toward the front entrance of the school. “That’s what the little dingbat up in the library said. Only I was just there for forty minutes and you were not.”

“Sir!” Rusty must have thought Daddy was kidding. “I had some trouble with the transmission in my tru--” 

Looking back, I realize the last complete sentence Rusty managed to say in my presence was “I love you.”

Daddy shuffled his feet hard and skipped right toward Rusty, his left arm cocking back as he closed distance. Only a fool would insert themselves between Daddy and someone Daddy was trying to pummel. I am that  fool. The time it took for Daddy to drop his fists, grab my waist, and spin me out of the way was all the time Rusty needed to jump back, turn, and then start running for the school entrance.

“Crazy fuck!” Rusty screamed. “Whatever man, whatever!”

Daddy didn’t chase Rusty. He just looked at me and said, “Get your ass in the truck.”

That was a long, silent ride home, lemmetellya.  I could see the smoke pouring out of Daddy’s ears. He seethed.

As we pulled into the farm, Gary Grunt - who is kind of the senior hand, the guy who Daddy calls first when he needs hired help - he was driving in right in front of us and he stopped to open the gate. 

Daddy told him that there was a family matter he needed to attend to, and would Gary dismiss all the hands currently on the farm. Daddy said he was sorry, and he’d call Gary when things rolled back up to speed.

My blood ran cold. Daddy was “powering off” the farm. You just don’t do that. Ever. A working farm is a big clothes washing machine filled to the top with chaos and mayhem. As soon as you turn your back on it for very long, it’ll bubble over and start ruining everything around it.

Daddy told me to go to my room and not leave it for any reason.

Supposedly, December 21st is the longest night of the year, but for me it turned out to be May 2, 1985.