Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“We’ll get you nice and clean first,” Daddy Ed said, and then I felt the warmth and the suds. I let out a choked sob of helpless arousal.
“It’s okay, Seventy-One,” Daddy Bill said in that maddeningly patronizing voice. “Every bad girl likes this more than she wants to.”
Humiliating little noises came from behind my closed lips as I hung my head and felt Daddy Ed cleaning my pussy and then between my cheeks.
“We’ll start shaving with your crack first,” Daddy Bill explained in his calm voice. “Then we’ll move to your pussy. The razor is sharp, so you need to stay completely still.”
The buzz of the electric razor made me flinch, but his hand pressed down on the small of my back, holding me in place. Then I felt it—the vibration of the razor against my most private places, the gentle scrape as it removed hair I’d never even thought about. He worked with methodical precision, one hand keeping me spread while the other guided the razor through the sensitive crease between my cheeks.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re doing very well, staying still like this.”
The praise made something complicated happen in my chest—a warmth that had no business being there, not while I was bent over a bathroom counter getting my ass crack shaved by a man I’d met hours ago. But my traitorous body didn’t care about logic. It responded to the approval in his voice, to the gentle touch of his hands, to the complete surrender the position demanded.
The razor moved lower, closer to places that made me want to die from embarrassment. I felt him working around my anus, removing every trace of hair with patient, thorough strokes. Then lower still, between my legs from behind, shaving the hair I’d always been so embarrassed to trim, let alone remove.
“There we go,” Daddy Bill said at last. “Time to take a look at your daddies’ new pussy.”
CHAPTER 8
Pam
It took me a moment even to understand what Daddy Bill meant. How could my daddies have a pussy? They were men—very, very manly men. Men didn’t have pussies, did they?
Then it hit me, and I couldn’t keep a whimper from emerging from my throat. My daddies had a new pussy to put their hard penises in. They had already fucked it. Now they had shaved it, because they liked it bare and smooth for them.
It belonged to Daddy Bill and Daddy Ed. It just happened to be located between my thighs—its location, though, wouldn’t stop my daddies from fucking it whenever they wanted to make their huge cocks feel good.
Daddy Bill’s words echoed in my mind as he helped me stand up and turn around. My legs felt weak, barely able to support me as he guided me to a position in front of the mirror over the sinks. The fluorescent lights were merciless, showing every detail of my flushed face, my tear-bright eyes, my exposed body.
“Look,” Daddy Ed said, positioning himself on my left side while Daddy Bill moved to my right. “Look at what belongs to your daddies now.”
My eyes traveled down in the mirror, past my heaving breasts to the junction of my thighs. The bare skin there looked alien, unfamiliar—completely smooth and exposed in a way that made my stomach clench. Without the hair, the cleft of my pussy, with the pink of my inner lips peeking out, looked so innocent, so little that I couldn’t keep a tiny sob from emerging.
“Touch yourself,” Daddy Bill said softly. “Feel how smooth your daddies made you.”
My hand moved before my brain could process the command, trembling as I reached down. My fingertips brushed over the newly bare skin and I gasped at the sensitivity. Every nerve ending felt exposed, heightened. The touch sent sparks through my body that I couldn’t suppress.
“That’s it,” Daddy Ed murmured. “Feel what your daddies have done to you, because we like a bad girl’s pussy that way.”
Then his hands were on me—one cupping my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple, the other sliding down my stomach. On my other side, Daddy Bill’s hands mirrored the movement, claiming my other breast while his free hand traced down my hip.
“Hands on your head, Little Seventy-One,” Daddy Bill commanded. “Watch what happens to your body when your daddies touch you.”
My breathing grew ragged as I obeyed, telling myself that I’d get paddled again for the slightest infraction. I raised my hands and locked my fingers atop my disheveled hair, and now I couldn’t look away from the mirror. The woman reflected there didn’t look like me—couldn’t be me. She was some other person, some stranger with flushed skin and glazed eyes, trapped between two large men whose hands moved over her with practiced skill. I watched Daddy Ed’s fingers roll my nipple, watched it harden under his touch. Watched Daddy Bill’s hand slide around to cup my bare mound, his middle finger sliding between my nether lips with devastating precision.