All characters in this story are eighteen. CHECK THE STORY CODES–there is both (happy, loving) INCEST _and_ SPANKING in this story. This is fantasy and the events of this story should not be carried out in reality.
———
Dan felt like such a stereotype. He seemed unable to shake an attraction to girls who were just fresh out of high school, or even just about to be fresh out of high school. Far too young for him and frankly out of his league. He never deluded himself into thinking there was any chance they’d welcome any advances from him, a married man in his forties. And even if he happened on the one in a million newly minted eighteen year old who had just been itching to find herself a middle class older man, he would never do anything to screw up his marriage. Besides, he figured the moment such a girl opened her mouth and started talking he’d find himself experiencing, to say the least, a lack of connection with her, and any attraction would go away.
But this wasn’t his biggest problem. His daughter, not only in terms of age and fitness but in all other ways, was exactly his type. Exactly. He couldn’t help this, it was just a fact. He couldn’t say he was “attracted” to her exactly, because he had no desire whatsoever to approach her in that way. But in the right mood, at exactly the wrong time, he did find himself thinking about her body, her smile, imagining her in rapturous ecstasy, and so on. He no longer tried to put those thoughts away, as he’d come to see that as entirely futile.
He just kept it absolutely and utterly to himself.
If she was currently laying on her back on the couch, her head on his leg as he watched TV and she scrolled her phone, he didn’t even glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Imagination was enough. He didn’t need to steal actual glances, especially in a circumstance where she might notice. If he felt his erection starting to push out a little on his pants, he ignored this, ashamedly imagining himself protesting, if she noticed it, that spontaneous erection is a thing.
From his lap, Isabella’s beautiful face spoke. “Hey Dad, check it out,” she said.
He looked down. His brain almost didn’t understand what he was looking at for a moment. She was grinning, having pulled her loose, wide necked shirt downwards so that her breasts poked out of the neckline.
“Made you look!” she winked, and quickly replaced her shirt.
He stared at her, his hand over his mouth, speechless. She nonchalantly returned to scrolling her phone. “Isabella that was–”
She immediately cut him off. “Hilarious?”
“Absolutely unacceptable. Why would you think that was okay?”
He could see her blush a little. She maintained her nonchalance as she said a bit plaintively, “I don’t know I just thought it was funny?”
“What could be funny about that?” he asked.
“Like, surprise! I’m flashing you over my shirt!” With this she looked back up at him smiling at whatever ridiculous humor she saw in this and he noted her hand was moving up to her neckline again.
He grabbed it by the wrist, which incidentally caused him to at first take a little of her breast in hand as well, through her shirt. “Oooh” she grinned, raising her eyebrow at him.
He didn’t know what to do. He let go of her hand.
“See?” she said, “Over,” and with this her breasts were once again on display through the top of her shirt.
“Under,” she said and quickly shifted to flashing him the traditional way.
“Over, under, overunderoverunder!”
He slapped her hand away, but missed, slapping her directly on her bare breast, right on the nipple, instead.
“Aha!” she laughed. “You missed! Or did you?” This last she said in an exaggerated TV announcer tone.
He was starting to get really angry. He and his wife did believe in corporal punishment but only in very controlled circumstances, never in spontaneous anger. Yet, he now grabbed her hair in his lap and pulled downward on it to force her to face him directly in the eye. She hissed a little with the discomfort but kept her eyes right on him. He replaced her shirt properly without touching her breast while staring her down, then, out of a loss for what to say, he did something instead–he slapped her on the cheek several times, emphasizing his syllables. “Do not EVER do that, do you hear me?”
She was tearing up a little from the sting but somehow still grinning a little. “Okay Daddy, but what about this?” She glanced downward.
She was pulling her skirt away from her hip and a little downwards so that he could see directly down the line of her tummy all the way to her pubic area.
“Over,” she said, then quickly pulled up so he could now see her vagina unobscured. “Under.”
Even as he still had her hair in his grasp she kept going, flashing her pussy at him first over her skirt, then under her skirt, several times in a row while he stared in blank confusion and anger.
“It’s just body parts Daddy,” she giggled as she continued, and somehow that set him off.
He didn’t slap her hand away. He slapped her pussy, just like he had slapped her face a moment ago.
“Stop!” he yelled.
“Over?” she intoned after reacting like you might expect to being slapped on the pussy.
He reached into the gap between her skirt and tummy and slapped her pussy five more times in rapid succession as she closed her eyes and steeled herself.
“Under!” she said laughing, and pulled her skirt upwards. He now had free reign, no skirt in the way. “Fucking stop!” he yelled again, and grabbed her pussy, pinching it in his fist, and finally violently shoving two of his fingers inside her.
She went stiff.
“Is this fun?” he said. “Is this funny?” And began rapidly fingerfucking her.
She let this happen for several seconds before finally opening her eyes and looking directly at him. “Yep.”
But he could see tears flowing from her eyes. He regained his senses. He loosened his grip. He withdrew his finger from inside her pussy.
—
“I… Oh my god…”
“Why stop?” his daughter asked, putting her own hand down into her skirt.
“I’m so sorry, I can’t believe… I… Are you okay?”
Isabella wiped a tear off her nose. “Oh did you think you were hurting me?” She said this archly and he knew she was masturbating down there while saying it. He made no motion to stop her because he didn’t want his hand anywhere near that area of her body just now.
“I mean, I lost control of myself but then I saw you crying and I…”
She laughed once again. “I wasn’t crying, it was just like, intense. I told you I liked what you were doing!”
She closed her eyes now and was clearly concentrating on what was going on under her hand.
He just sat there, dumbfounded, watching her straighten her legs pushing against the leg of the couch so that her chest area was now on his lap, her breasts out and fully facing him. He simply clamped his hand over his mouth again, horrified.
She made no noise. Her orgasm was silent, but very apparent.
She looked up at him again with sleepy eyes. “I do that sometimes like five times a night.” Then as he continued to stare at her with his mouth agape behind his hand, she reached down to her skirt, and giggling, gave him the little peeks just like before.
“Isabella!” he finally said, and reached down to hold it in place. She wiggled around to make her pussy meet his balled up hand through her skirt. He moved his hand away but that pulled the skirt up, he moved it back down and she grinded herself against his fist again.
So with his other hand he pinched her nipple. “Be still.”
She didn’t obey of course. “Ow! That hurts! Don’t stop!”
He grasped her breast as hard as he could, digging his fingernails in and manhandling it in every direction. With his other hand he did the same to her pussy. “Oh yeah,” she responded.
Back in went his fingers. In his mind he was trying to make it hurt, trying to show her a consequence for what she was doing.
She grunted repeatedly as his fingers went in deep over and over again, and as he clawed and grasped at her breasts and nipples. No one could fool themselves into thinking her grunts were any sign of displeasure.
He found her clit, and mashed it.
She writhed on his lap, moving to increase the stimulation of her clit. He had thought simply mashing it down against the bone would be painful but she thrust up and down, side to side, jerking off against his attempt to punish her, until she shivered and her whole body went tight again. Silently, she made a hard shaking grimace, then suddenly relaxed.
He had made his daughter cum a second time.
She was grinning at him. He kept his face perfectly still. He was angry, ashamed, aroused, so many emotions he’d never felt together before.
After some moments of her reverie, she lifted herself up, and straddled him.
He had an instinct to push her away. He also had an instinct to carefully refrain from touching her in any way. These two instincts canceled out, and of course he had other instincts as well.
As he sat there dumbly she initiated contact. They kissed. She opened his mouth with hers and gently probed with her tongue.
Lost in the moment he finally also pushed his tongue a little into her mouth, half thinking he could just steal this moment then finally end the interaction. She smiled through the kiss then shoved her tongue deeply, almost grotesquely into his throat while beginning to grind herself on his enpantsed erection.
He found himself involuntarily thrusting upwards, in return, and closed his eyes. Doing his duty he gently pushed her away.
“Please get off.”
“I am getting off Daddy,” she quipped. “You’re a good kisser!”
“Please. Please just stand up.”
She sighed. “Okay,” and got to the floor, adjusting her clothes so they were on her almost normally, one strap hanging off her shoulder.
“Just…” He didn’t know what to say.
A sigh. “Am I in trouble?”
“No not exactly… Just… We need to separate. Will you stay in your room for a while?”
“I guess?”
“We need to talk about this later.”
“I… guess?”
He nodded. Then motioned. And a dark sort of disappointed puzzlement came over her face. Silently, she turned and went up the stairs. Once near the top, she began stomping, and when she reached her room, she slammed the door.
—
He took some time to breathe, gather his wits, consider his choices, and find his resolve. Then he went up to Isabella’s room himself, and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she said quietly. He entered and found her sitting on the edge of bed, fully naked. He felt perhaps he should say something about that but he had resolved to simply come in, firmly explain the facts to her, and leave.
So addressing his naked daughter, he said “Do you understand that you… we… you must never do anything like that again?”
“I know that’s what you said,” she said sadly.
“Why did you think that was okay?”
She looked up at him. “Well, I mean Dad. I’ve seen your porn.”
He blanched.
“You like playful bratty young girls, and I can totally be that for you.”
“I’m sorry you saw that but don’t you understand, that it’s completely different with you because you’re my daughter?”
“I mean you do watch a lot of ‘step-daughter’ porn,” she deadpanned.
From having gone white, he now turned red. “That is… That doesn’t mean I… That’s not how it works! We’re a real live father and daughter. You know that’s different.”
“It is different Daddy, I know.” She shrugged and looked off to the side. “I know that’s what they say. I can’t explain it. I’m sorry, but the fact that you’re my dad makes me want to… do stuff with you… more, not less. I know that makes me different but it’s how I am. And after I saw what you like to look at and, well, you know, noticed you getting hard sometimes, I thought you were… different… like me.”
He was quiet, looking at the floor. Can he acknowledge this out loud? “Whatever the case may be,” he said carefully, “It doesn’t matter because it’s wrong. Even if we thought it was a good idea right now, over the years… it would probably ruin you.”
“I understand,” she said. “Daddy, I’ll stop, and I’m sorry. And I know this is ridiculous of me to ask but if we’re never going to do anything like that ever again will you please. Please. Just kiss me one last time?”
He looked at her, grimaced and sighed. He shook his head from side to side.
She stood up, her naked form appearing to him now like that of an irresistible nymph. She reached her arm out in an inviting gesture. “Daddy, one last time. Please don’t make this end like this, with you mad and me sad. Let’s kiss, and say our goodbye’s, and never bring it up again.”
He closed his eyes. He felt tears welling up, and not for the “right” reason. He felt the same necessity she did. The same compelling desire to end this on a note of physical reconciliation. It was like their bodies were drawn to each other to put a seal on the day’s events.
His eyes still closed, he walked toward her. Opening his eyes he took her extended hand, said, “Okay, one kiss,” and drew her towards him.
They kissed for a long while. He held her head in his hands, gently placing her in the best places to appreciate every angle of her lips. Then he grasped her arm with one hand and her back with the other and pulled her in to squeeze against him as they continued their kiss.
He began to pull away when she started unbutton his shirt. “Please Daddy” she murmured, “Just for our last kiss, I just want to feel you against my chest, please.”
He allowed it. When her breasts touched him just below his own nipples, he felt her shiver in physical pleasure.
He drew his face away from hers and gazed at her for a few seconds. “Is it… over?” she asked.
“Not yet. This is still technically a kiss,” he said, bending down a little and placing his mouth on her nipple. He began kissing it. She gasped, and pulled him in, walking backwards and falling to the bed.
He fell beside her, and continued kissing her nipples, moving from one to the other and returning to her mouth occasionally. When she began masturbating he did not stop her.
She came so close to having her third orgasm at her father’s hands right then, but they heard the door open downstairs. His wife Anne’s voice: “I’m home!”
They leapt up. Isabella pulled her blanket over her body. He saw a gleam in her eyes. She was almost laughing, he supposed as a panic reaction. He himself was frantically putting his shirt back on and running as quietly as he could to his own room next to hers.
“Dan? Isabella?”
Dan answered “Up here!” Isabella remained silent.
He walked out of his room and looked downstairs towards Anne. She was holding in her hand a dirty dish, walking up the stairs. “Looks like Isabella forgot. Again. Why didn’t you remind her?”
He stood sheepishly before his lovely wife, annoyed at his failure and feeling sorry about what he knew was about to happen to the daughter he’d just given almost three orgasms.
As Anne knocked on Isabella’s door and walked right in he said quietly, “I guess I just thought she should be able to remember on her own.”
Isabella was still under the covers, looking tense. He knew then that she’d been trying to finish herself off and hadn’t yet succeeded. Mom held up the dish, “Taking a nap?” she grinned sternly if you can imagine that. “Without doing your chores?”
Isabella said quietly, “I’m sorry mommy.”
“Well, you’ll be sorry in a minute, and then you’ll do the dishes. Get in position.”
Isabella hesitated. “Isabella, now!” said Anne.
Playing his role as father he reiterated. “Do as your mother says.”
He and his daughter blushed at the same time but there was no reason for Anne to notice something like that.
Isabella slowly, gingerly removed herself from her blanket and revealed her nakedness, now, to her mom. Anne laughed, “That is some bad luck for you! In position!”
Isabella nodded, and took up position next to her bed, on her knees, elbows on the bed as though she were praying.
Anne looked over at Dan, who was standing still. He noticed from the color of her face she seemed embarrassed to have caught her daughter in the nude like this, but she was handling it in her usual smooth authoritative way. “Uh, Dan?” she said. “Your belt?” There was a breathy character to her question. She really seemed nervous about the whole situation.
“Of course!” he said sheepishly and immediately removed his belt and handed it to her.
As was standard in their household, they both spanked her in turn. Ten swats from mom, then ten from dad, so that neither of them became what they jokingly called “the punishment monster.” They had an equal hand in disciplining their daughter.
Isabella was already weeping before mom was finished, as usual, and then Dan took the belt and, being stronger than Anne, hit the weeping girl ten times even harder. Her ass waved desperately and he was reminded too much of the way her pelvis had bucked up and down while she masturbated. He felt himself getting hard–he honestly had never felt this way while spanking her, even on the rare occasions when they did decide to administer a naked spanking. All he could do was hope neither of them noticed. He didn’t know what Isabella would think of him being excited by something like this.
When he was finished Anne said, “When you’re done crying go do the dishes. You can put some clothes on once you’ve done all of them.”
“Yes Ma’am… wait, I have to do it naked?”
This was completely new ground. Anne just said, “Yep! And get it done fast or there’s more in store.”
“Yes Ma’am” Isabella sobbed, and with that Anne and Dan exited her room.
Anne grabbed his hand and pulled her into their own room, locking the door, and immediately working on taking his shirt off once again.
While Isabella cleaned the dishes in the nude downstairs, her parents fucked like animals upstairs.
—
The next day he came home from work around five as usual, and as usual his daughter was home before him. Unusually, but understandably given last night, he could hear she was already doing the dishes.
He walked past the kitchen heading toward the living room, then stopped, and looked again at what he’d seen out of the corner of his eye. She was standing at the sink completely naked.
“Uh, you know mom just meant last night you had to be naked, not every day, right?”
Isabella turned her head toward him and laughed. “Oh hey! I honestly wasn’t sure but… I figured you might enjoy the view. We don’t have to touch I just thought it might be fun to let you see.”
He stared, visions running through his mind of last night, of her almost orgasming while he eagerly grasped and kissed her breasts and her face. He finally said, “You are indeed beautiful. Please put your clothes back on before mom gets home?”
She chuckled, “Of course Daddy,” and went back to her work.
When she was finished she came into the living room, still naked. She stood at the doorway for a long while looking at the TV screen he had on for background noise while messing on his phone. “So uh,” she said.
He looked up, trying not to either stare stupidly or look away stupidly. “Yes?”
“I said we don’t have to touch if you don’t want to but, did you know… I never came last night?”
“I uh… hadn’t thought about it,” he lied.
She laughed walking forward a bit, arching her eyebrow. “Maybe you should think about it. I could have got myself off last night but I decided to just lay there and think about yesterday after school instead. And never did let myself come.”
“Well,” he said, “What did you do that for?”
She was still walking towards him. “I don’t understand myself sometimes as you know Dad but, in any case, it does kind of feel like you owe me one now.”
She was now up on his lap straddling him. He could almost not even remember her walking the distance, she was just there. Almost reflexively, before he could think, he had grasped her butt like he might have a girl at a strip club. It happened in an instant, and just as he was starting to think “Wait this is still my daughter” he simultaneously guided her hips downward, and she started grinding her pussy against the bulge in his pants.
Her breasts were right in front of them. He took them in hand and licked her nipples immediately. He did owe her one.
“Fuck yes” she breathed.
They were kissing and she was just about to orgasm when she leaned back a bit and said, “I want to see it.”
“What?”
“I just want to see it, I promise not to touch.” She had scrambled down to the floor on her knees already and was gently patting his dick through his pants.
He was too far gone to pretend any real resistance. Effecting an annoyed grimace he said, hands on his belt, “Okay. But it’s look, don’t touch.”
“Yeah Daddy that’s what I said,” she grinned, and he pulled his penis out for her to look at.
She stroked herself while examining it closely. “Don’t touch!” he said again. “I know I know” she laughed.
“That’s, uh,” she said, breathing hard as she kept stroking herself, “really sexy Dad. I love how hard you are for me. It’s still kind of tucked in your pants at the bottom, I wish I could pull it out further.”
He obliged, pulling it out further, to her sigh of delight. And there was his hand, on his penis, his daughter wishing she could touch it while she stroked herself.
He watched her beautiful face in its sexual ecstasy, holding his cock in front of that face for a few seconds. He imagined what you would imagine he was imagining. He didn’t do anything directly about that, but he did begin, finally, rubbing himself.
“Oh God, yes,” his daughter gasped and redoubled her own stroking efforts on herself.
She was just about to come after a few minutes but he came first. He squirted more powerfully than he had in years. He wasn’t aiming at her face at all, but as the sperm came down from the air it angled such that much of it did, in fact, land right on her cheek and her chin. That was when she came.
Even as she was orgasming with his cum on her face he said urgently, “Oh God Isabella, I’m so sorry.”
In her throes she managed to laugh. “Do I look,” she gasped. “Like,” she gasped again. “I’m mad?”
He stood up pulling his pants up and buttoning them. “I should not have done that” and he practically ran to the closet, got out a washcloth, moistened it, and returned to her as she now just was laying on the floor grinning at the ceiling.
He bent down next to her and gently wiped his cum off her face while she looked up at him in some kind of reverie. “That was… incredible,” she breathed.
He moved to lay down next to her once she was clean. He kissed her on the cheek and the chin where his cum had been, which she accepted gladly. He put his arm across her chest and kissed her on the mouth. They gazed into each others eyes for a bit, but he finally had to say, “Mom will be home pretty soon.”
“I know,” she said reluctantly, and pulled herself up. She went to her room and got dressed, he wandered to the kitchen to start some kind of dinner, and that was that.
—
Mutual masturbation became something of an after school routine for them. He stopped questioning it. His daughter was naked every day when he came home, and she was unquestionably sexy and ready for action. Some days while she did the dishes he would stand behind her fingerfucking her the way he had that first day, making it somewhat difficult for her to finish the job. But whether he did this or not, almost every day once she was finished with the dishes they would kiss, hump and grind, then finally he would jack off while she aroused herself. He took to intentionally aiming his sperm on some specific part of her body each day. In this way he’d covered her tummy, her legs, her tits, her shoulders, every part of her face, her feet–really almost everywhere on her body except never had he ever put his cum on (much less in) her pussy, or on (much less in) her mouth.
Some weeks or months later, the three of them were finishing up a family movie night. The credits rolled, and he and Anne started to get up to put things in order and get ready for bed. From between them, Isabella put her hands on one of each of their legs. “Hey wait, can I show you something real quick?”
They sat back down. “Of course,” said Anne. “What is it?”
“It’s a funny video,” said Isabelle, working on something on her phone. Dad said “Oh, I’m always up for a laugh!”
Isabelle clicked a few tiles on her screen, and the video started playing, projected to their TV.
It was split screen, left and right. On the left was video of a couple, an middle aged man and younger woman on the floor, her laying down, him on his knees jacking off over her.
On the right was video of another couple, a middle aged woman (whom he found quite fit and attractive) and a younger woman, lying on a bed, in position such that each was able to lick and kiss the others’ nipples, both women eagerly masturbating while doing so.
Dan froze. What was the game here? “You’re showing us… pornography?” he said, dumbfounded.
From Isabelle’s other side, Anne gasped. Why hadn’t she gasped the moment this video showed up on their TV? Why just now?
He looked again. Now it was Dan’s turn to gasp.
Both parents turned to stare in shock at their daughter. Then at each other. Then quickly back to Isabelle.
The video she was showing, was video of them. Video of her being fully obscenely sexual with both of them, on separate occasions. Isabelle was looking back and forth between them, grinning, as they just sat there shocked.
“See?” she said, excited. “You don’t have to keep it a secret from each other! We can just… be together. Like a threesome!”
Anne snapped. “Isabella Dawn Smith get to your room right now.”
Isabella was crestfallen. “But mommy we… you…”
“NOW” Anne shouted. She never lost control but it was clear from the tension in her face she might be about to.
“Yes ma’am!” Isabella yelled in reply and immediately scampered to her room, crying quietly but in a way that was amplified into a little squeak with every step.
Dan and Anne just sat there in shock. Neither, clearly, could think of even the first thing to say.
Anne broke first. Tears in her eyes, she just said her husband’s name. “Dan, I…”
Dan immediately started crying as well. They couldn’t speak. They just leaned toward each other and embraced in a hug. Was this the end of their marriage? He didn’t know. But this was the only thing he could think to do. To cry with her, and to embrace her.
They wept together for a good long while, before finally being able to sit up and take careful glances at each other’s faces while trying to address the matter.
Anne began, choking out a question. “Are you… do you hate me? Are you mad at me?”
So rarely was she ever this explicitly vulnerable. He immediately reached out and stroked her hair. “Of course not. You saw my… side… of the video. How could I be mad? I should be asking you!”
She laughed through her tears and said, “No, you don’t need to.”
Another pause and she began again, her voice starting to break once more. “We’re terrible parents! We’re literally the worst kind of parent! And she has it on… Dan she has it on video!”
“I don’t know if we’re the worst kind of parent. She… did she seem happy with you?”
Anne nodded. “She did. Very much.”
“The same with me. I think if we stop now, we can salvage the family. And you’re right, that video is dangerous. Let’s go up to her, lay down the law, tell her none of this can ever happen again. Should we do family therapy? Would the therapist have to… report us or something?”
Anne sobbed and looked up. “No, we shouldn’t do family therapy Dan.” She’d never been a big fan of therapy in general.
“Well, okay, so we tell her, everything stops now, and she deletes the video, and we just take things day by day for a while.”
Anne considered this, and nodded. “Okay. That’s… almost perfect. Let’s go up.”
“Almost perfect?”
A suddenly somewhat brusque “Come on” was the only reply he got. She was transitioning into authority mode.
—
Dan had a flashback to the first day when they walked into Isabella’s room and she was, to their surprise and consternation, wearing no clothes. She was sitting on her bed, quietly sobbing naked. As soon as she walked in she cried louder. “I’m sorry!”
Anne got to the point. “Why. Are you naked. At a time like this?”
“I don’t know!” Isabella cried plaintively. “I love being naked with you, with both of you! And I think I might not ever get to do it agahahain!” She blubbered into her hands.
Mom, clearly not knowing what to say to this, simply moved on. “Isabella, making those recordings, that was really serious. We didn’t give you our consent for those recordings. And you’re are daughter–I think in some states you even go to jail for that. What if someone saw?!”
“No one will see! I’ll delete it!”
“Yes you will,” said Anne, right now.”
As Isabella concentrated on deleting the video Dan began, “And we want you to know–” But Anne put her hand on his shoulder.
“Wait,” she said.
Okay…
Isabella finished what she was doing, and looked up, sniffling.
“You made a video without our consent. You made a stupidly dangerous video. You manipulated us into watching it. You have handled this all very poorly.”
“I know,” Isabella continued sniffling, “I’m so stupid sometimes.”
Now Anne said, “Take your position.”
The room froze.
Then Isabella’s face practically burst with tears. “No pleeeheease, not right now! Not about this!”
Anne was uncompromising. “This was serious enough, we’re going to go to twenty swats, and if you keep delaying it will go to thirty.”
Dan almost intervened. Almost. Isabella meanwhile said a couple of panicked “okay!”s and quickly got on her knees, her naked buttocks facing towards them.
Anne gestured at Dan. “Dan? Your… belt?”
Moment of truth time.
Sensing hesitation Anne insisted. “We can’t let this go.”
Dan made his choice. And in a moment, his belt was in Anne’s hands.
Just as always, Isabella was loudly weeping already before Anne had finished her first ten swats. By the time Anne had hit her twenty times Isabella had her face mashed into her mattress trying to suppress her crying.
When Dan started in, hitting surely twice as hard, she went from suppressing cries to suppressing outright screams. They usually hit only her buttocks but tonight both Anne and Dan, fearing the effects of hitting the same spots so many times, spread their blows down to her legs occasionally. Isabella, from her reaction, clearly did not feel this as any kind of mercy.
She made it through her forty blows and just laid there wailing and crying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorryyyyy!”
Dan said after some time, “We need you to sit up now. There is more to talk about.”
She nodded but made only a slight, hesitant motion to turn around and sit.
Dan and Anne both stepped forward, sitting on the bed on either side of her. She used their knees for leverage, and they used their arms to help her up. She sat between them.
“We want you to know that we love you, and because we love you…” he looked up at Anne, who was looking at him. Why was it so hard to say the words? They should be the easiest words in the world to say.
Isabella knew what he was trying to say and her crying raised a bit in volume. Hearing this both parents leaned in and hugged their naked daughter. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered in her ear. Isabella simply shook her head, refusing to accept that.
He moved so that he could make eye contact with his daughter. He was on his knees now, next to her, his face in front of and a little below hers. “We can make it through this, day by day, it will be okay.” Anne, taking an uncharacteristically passive approach, moving into a similar position as Dan and repeated the phrase, “Day by day. We’ll make it. But we have to…”
Isabella stared down at her parents, waiting for the fateful words. Dan and Anne looked at each other. Dan noticed his wife’s saddened face, was literally right next to one of his daughter’s breasts, practically touching. She saw the direction of his gaze, and then in imagining things from her view, unbidden came to mind the fact that his face, too, was right next to the other breast.
“We have to…” he said.
A beat. Then,
“We have to,” he repeated.
Both parents turned. Each parent put mouth to nipple. Both parents began using their tongues.
Isabella gasped.
Would she be furious with this runaround they were giving her?
She pulled them in. She laid back. They followed up onto her bed, continuing to kiss her breasts and nipples. “Oh my God,” Isabelle murmured. Both parents started breathing a little harder.
With one eye each parent was beholding what the other was doing with their daughter. Dan had never been so hard, he was certain. And, as though of one mind, both he and his wife began reaching downwards, to Isabella’s legs. Gently, they opened her up. Continuing to gently kiss lick and suck on her breasts each parent’s hand crept over, until each was touching one side of her labia. Isabella tensed, spread her legs even further. “Please go in.”
They acquiesced.