Story Excerpt

Daddy’s Little Daughter Taken Hard, by Jezebel Rose

I was naked, standing before my full-length mahogany dressing mirror. Currently, I was using a curling iron to give my straight light-brown, almost blonde hair some twists and curves. I was aiming for a sexier look than the one I had worn earlier in the evening.

But, of course, nearly every look would have been hotter, for I had dressed the innocent, an eighteen-year-old girl with only the lightest touch of make-up. There was only clear lip-gloss and manicured nails covered with transparent color, hair long and straight. Not to mention wearing a maxi dress that hung from my shoulders to my ankles.

If you saw me in that dress, you knew I was slim and attractive. It was the kind of dress only a narrow, beautiful girl looked good in, but what lay beneath was left wholly to the imagination.

I’ve been working at a fund-raiser sponsored by Daddy and his friends, including Mr. Jackson, the father of my best friend, Jessica. The money would be used for several local charities. Daddy and his friends were still there, shutting down, counting the proceeds, but I could tell it was the best year yet.

My Jacky at the fund-raiser was to sell raffle tickets, and this year I had sold more than ever. Those men could not get enough of this beautiful, oh-so innocent teen. They bought tickets and flirted with me, then bought more tickets. I’d respond as an honest, giggling as if I didn’t understand what they meant or wanted, supposing that they kept touching me and bumping into me by accident. Anyways, I would accept their compliments at face value.

Occasionally Jessica, shorter, curvier, and bustier, would take over, and I would wander around, feeling men’s eyes on me, making sure Daddy saw it all.

It was a role I loved playing for many reasons but for one reason most of all. Knowing all these men were lusting for his sweet daughter, fantasizing about her set Daddy’s libido afire. So daddy would come tonight, knowing men throughout the city were fucking balling their wives, girlfriends while imagining it was me. So he would fuck me while our bed shook and my bones rattled.

And there’d be other men, by themselves, jerking on their man-things, spewing man-juice, imagining stripping me, laying me on their bed, entering my innocent tight teenaged cunt, shredding my hymen, filling me with cum, and turning this wide-eyed child into a cock-hungry, their cock-hungry, whore.

However, of course, that could never happen. Daddy had already done it.

However, tonight Daddy would not come home to the innocent girl who had sold raffle tickets. (Not that I did not love playing the innocent, we played that game often.) No, he would come home to the satyrs he had created. So, caressing a stiff nipple, feeling it through my body, I walked to the bed I shared with Daddy. I ran my hands on the lacy black silk bra and panties, garters and stocking lying there, imagined how I’d look in them with my five-inch open-toed stiletto heels.

I put on my choker, then the lingerie was painting my lips and nails a sexy dark red when my phone pinged. Daddy was bringing Mr. Jackson home for a drink.

I thought about Jessica, his daughter. I knew most girls would kill for my body: 5 feet 11 inches, 121 toned pounds, dress size 2, 31-23-34, “A” breasts. But, for a day or two, it would be fun to be built like my short, curvaceous, buxom Hispanic friend; it would be fun to give Daddy some variety.

I went to my closet, picked out the form-fitting dress I would wear over my lingerie, returned to the mirror, put it on. My green eyes sparkled at the result.

When I heard the cars pull up, I filled two sifters with the excellent brandy, placed them on a silver tray, met Daddy and Mr. Jackson at the door.

I admired Mr. Jackson. Not that his eyes did not linger on me, all Daddy’s friends’ eyes did that, but he did for only the briefest second. Daddy is other friends would stare, make some comment, noting, at least obliquely, that the innocent girl of an hour ago was gone, that this girl oozed sex, but Mr. Jackson did not.

Of course, he was used to having a hot teenaged daughter in the house.

I took their coats, hung them up, cuddled up next to Daddy, and listened as they recounted the evening. I had been right; it was the most successful fund-raiser yet.

~

The day after I turned eighteen, I told Jessica the morning after I gave Daddy my virginity. Daddy did not tell me we needed to keep it a secret until that night after we had made love again, so that first time, I had not disobeyed him. Still, I did when I kept telling Jessica. A girl has to say, someone.

So, the morning after the fund-raiser, hanging with Jessica in her pool, she asked, “So tell me, what happened after my Daddy left last night?”

“Well, my Daddy told me I’d been a bad girl, cock-teasing men all long night just to sell raffle tickets. I told him he was right, I was a bad girl, I wanted to be good, but I had all these nasty thoughts, that I liked it when men stared at me. I liked it when they pressed their man-things to me, imagined sucking their cocks, letting them fuck me, I needed to be punished.”

“What happened?”

“He told me to strip, and I did, doing a little dance for him, then dropped to the rug, the big soft rug I like so much, stuck my butt in the air, said he should spank me, spank his naughty little girl. He did, it got me so fricking hot, then he fucked me; I came, over and over, lost track of how many times, and then he came and filling me with Daddy-cum.”

“I’m so jealous. I want my Daddy to fuck me.”

I glanced over Jessica’s shoulder; saw Mr. Jackson looking at us through a window. All morning we had been prancing through his house in tiny bikinis that advertised our nubile firm flesh. It was nothing new. For the past months, Jessica and I had been presenting ourselves to Mr. Jackson as sexual objects, and the look in his eyes told me it was working. Still, I would need Daddy’s help to bring my plan to fruition. When I asked him, I would have to confess I was terrible and told Jessica. Maybe he would punish me!

~

That night, my naked body nestled against Daddy’s satiated form, I said, “I love it when you come in my ass Daddy.”

“It’s an amazing ass Pumpkin.”

“I feel sorry for girls whose daddies don’t fuck them. who waste their time chasing boys who don’t love them half as much as their daddies and when they catch one, all they get is an inexperienced boy who doesn’t know how to use his boy-thing.”

“Well, there are few daughters are as wonderful as you Pumpkin.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Daddy, Jessica and I were talking about Halloween, about the usual parties with the usual people; it sounded boring. We thought it would be fun to dress up, go into the city; they close off the park for a party. However, it might be dangerous, two innocent teenaged girls all alone. We were hoping you, and Mr. Jackson could dress up, come to look after us.”

Daddy smiled and said, “You told Jessica about us, didn’t you?”

He knew! I stopped, not sure what to say, but I could not lie to Daddy.

“Yes Daddy, I was bad. I told her after our first night, I had to tell someone, I was so happy and she’s my best friend and she knew how much I wanted you, but then I kept telling her, even after you said I shouldn’t.”

“Did you tell anyone else?”

“No Daddy.”

“Has she?”

“She says no, and I believe her Daddy. She is my best friend forever; she knows lots of stuff about me and never tells anyone. I trust her.”

“I do to Pumpkin.”

“Still Daddy, I was bad, you should punish me.”

“What if someday I punish you by not punishing you?

“You’d never be that mean Daddy.”

He laughed. “No, Jacky, I’d never been that mean.

“Jessica understands, like we do, what daughters are for. She wants her daddy to love her the same way you love me. We’ve been trying to nudge him along.”

He smiled at me with his wise face, and I said, “You knew that didn’t you Daddy?”

“Yes, Pumpkin. I have seen the way Jessica looks at him; it is the way you look at me. I’ve also noticed how you two have been dressing around Ron, how affectionate you are towards me when he’s around like you hope he’ll get the idea.”

“Yes Daddy, I thought if he saw us together, he’d see what daughters are for.”

“Why do you think I brought him home last night, it was a little push in the right direction. Please, tell me your plan.”

~

Daddy pulled some strings, secured two downtown hotel rooms on Halloween night. Now, in the room he shared with Mr. Jackson – we girls had our own – he watched his friend put on mirrored sunglasses, study himself in the mirror and then, apparently satisfied, take off the glasses and say, “Bob, are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I am. Our daughters are good girls; neither has given us any trouble. Most teenaged girls would lie, say they are at a party, and then sneak down here knowing their parents would say no. Our daughters told us they wanted to try something new but did not feel safe and asked us to join them. We should be happy they told us the truth, that they are wise enough to worry about their safety, and that they trust us to look after them. Imagine all the girls wandering around right now whose parents don’t know they’re here.”

“I see your point. Where are we supposed to meet them?”

“At the statue of Silent Sam at 5:00 sharp.”

~

They were made to order, five boys about our age, insecure, uncomfortable, trying to look tough, drawing strength from each other, the kind of boys you can depend on to say the wrong thing. I gave their leader a look. They headed our way.

The leader said, “Hey ladies, do you work for UPS? I thought I saw you checking out my package.”

I had been right; they were made to order.

I said, “No, we’re waiting for our boyfriends.”

Embarrassed, the leader ratcheted it up.

“I don’t see no boyfriends, and while I may not be the best-looking guy here, I’m the only one talking to you.”

Jessica made a face and one of the people, staring at her ample chest, said, “Now, we’ve been studying the presidents, and I was thinking, your breasts remind me of Mount Rushmore – my face should be among them.”

A third voice: “Yeah, you girls look like you’ve been naughty. Go to my room!”

There they had a point. One of my favorite games was for Daddy to dress like a cop and I a naughty schoolgirl: patent leather Mary Janes, knee-high white socks, red plaid pleated skirt, short sleeve white shirt (the kind that showed a couple inches of midriff, not the type you tie right below your breasts), black glasses, ponytails. A top student with bad things on her mind.

Also, that was how Jessica and I were dressed, although she showed more cleavage.

Daddy and Mr. Jackson arrived right on time. I can always count on Daddy.

“Officers, these boys won’t leave us alone, they’re rude.”

Although as tall as our Daddy’s, none was as full-shouldered, barrel-chested, firm, or as suddenly menacing as our Daddy’s was.

Daddy said, “You heard the ladies, why don’t you boys move along.”

There were five of them, and they did not like being called “boys.”

Chin out, chest thrust forward, the leader said, “You’re not even a real cop old man.”

Daddy slipped his nightstick out, twirled it effortlessly (as I said, we played this game often), and said, “No I’m not, but this is real, so why not leave these naughty girls to us.”

The leader stepped forward.

So did Mr. Jackson.

The leader stopped.

I slid my arm onto Daddy’s and said, “Officer, I’m feeling wicked, like I want to do bad things. Could you look after me, make sure I don’t, or that I’m adequately punished if I do.

The leader turned to his comrades, who were already backing away, and said, “Let’s go, we can do better than this.”

~

We wandered the park, admired the inventive and sexy costumes, and cut quite a swath ourselves. Men stared, giving us an excuse to cling to our Daddy’s. When a Latin band started playing, Daddy asked me to dance. Jessica soon convinced her Daddy to join us. While Daddy is a good dancer, I learned that Mr. Jackson had been a champion bachata dancer: the two of them set the place afire. When the band took a break, I suggested something to eat, and, our Daddy’s hands in ours, we quickly found what I was looking for, a soft-serve ice cream stand.

“Officers, thank you for taking care of us. Can my friend and I buy you some ice cream?”

Daddy said, “Yes.”

Also, before Mr. Jackson could respond, Jessica and I dashed off, our Daddy’s eyes on our firm nubile naughty pupil bodies.

~

Watching us standing in line, Mr. Jackson said, “Did you know they’d be wearing those outfits.”

Daddy said, “Jacky said they were wearing something out there, something sexy, but said she wanted it to be a surprise. It is all three. Aren’t you glad we’re here to keep an eye on them?”

“Yeah, but still, do you think it’s a bit much.”

“Even if we don’t want to admit it, they’re not girls any more Ron, they’re women and, their sexuality is in full bloom. They are experimenting. If their mothers were here, they would share it with them, but their mothers are not here. So, what would you prefer, they share it with those boys we just met or us? Our daughters are wonderful and sweet, it’s best to keep an eye on them, keep them close.

“Mulling over what Daddy had said, Mr. Jackson watched his daughter. His friend was right. Jessica was beautiful and sweet and a woman, an adult with an adult’s sexuality that would continue to grow and grow. He thought of her with a man, did not like the thought at all. Yet, there was still an innocence to her. He did not want to let it, or her, go.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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