Daddies In My Holes

ANGEL I stared at my reflection in the steam-blurred mirror of my bathroom and barely recognized myself. My wavy golden hair was damp and clinging to my skin, my usually tanned skin looked ghostly, as if a demon had drained all the blood from me overnight. My baby blue eyes, which used to get complimented all the time, stared back at me; they looked haunted, corrupted, and covered in faint traces of dark circles. The flushed raw skin of my behind was all evidence that it had been real. The soreness didn't allow me to pretend that it hadn't happened. Last night I'd done something I regretted, thinking about it now made me feel dirty, filthy and carnal in a way not even spending thirty minutes in the hot shower had been able to wash away. I was absolutely disgusted with myself. I still couldn't grasp my mind around it, why did my body react that way when Uncle had spanked me? His firm grip around my nape as he punished me against the walls of my bedroom had gotten me so soaked. The humiliation had nearly pushed me to an órgasm. I should hate it, and believe me, I did hate it. So, why did my pússy clench around those thick fingers of his when he had curled them inside of me? And in those seconds, I'd wanted him. I'd more than fúcking wanted him. I'd needed him to shove me against those walls and pump me full with his cóck. I had wanted to do all of the dirty things I'd dreamt of doing with Daddy with him. Dàmn it. I must have been out of my mind, because why else would I want that? I'd never been attracted to anyone who wasn't Daddy. Like never. Boys in the private school I attended just never did it for me, they were too young, too naive, but Daddy knew what he was doing. I'd seen this in the numerous times I'd secretly peeked at him fúcking those whóres and then Jillian. The way he knew where to touch, how to make them squirt and scream, they always begged for more, Daddy was fully experienced. I was the kind of girl who knew what she wanted and never settled for anything other than that. I wanted Daddy and that was it. I'd absolutely never thought about Uncle before, not in a sexual way of doing anything with him at least. I didn't used to always hate him, when he was just daddy's best friend, I even used to help Mrs Martha prepare meals for him. Even though I was afraid of him, of those eyes of his which promised cruel things, I'd tried to make him like me, because I delighted in it when men adored me. My feelings had changed and morphed into dislike when his sister had gotten married to Daddy. Seeing him dressed in that black suit that day as he escorted his sister up the aisle to marry Daddy, I extended my hate for Jillian to him. And it had burned intensely. An unforgiving rage that refused to douse. I never imagined that he could make me feel the way I felt last night, and the smouldering ache he'd ignited within me had refused to cool. Last night, I tossed and turned restlessly in my sheets until they turned warm. When I managed to close my eyes, I saw his eyes. Daniel's cold-looking eyes had broken into my dream. I'd shut my eyes tighter, willing him away from my dream, but his voice began its assault, I could almost physically feel his hot breath teasing my ears. His presence had invaded and violated the world I'd created in my mind for just me and Daddy. His filthy tongue had licked my cúnt until the sheets around me grew wet. A pool of arousal had trickled down my thigh and his tongue had wiped it clean just the way he had done with his fingers. 'Call me daddy' His voice from the dream corroded my mind like a rot. I had tried to stop it. To not give in. I fought. And fought. But his tongue was too skilled, his voice that whispered filth, his fingers that grasped my neck. Choking me. In the end, he'd forced me to obey. And he had stayed in my mind as he owned it. I had touched myself under the scrutiny of those lusty eyes, and when I came apart, Daniel disappeared, leaving me soaked, my fingers wet and my heart throbbing with guilt. He'd made me cheat on Daddy. And I despised him more for it. There could only be one explanation and it was what I told myself last night when I'd run to the bathroom with thighs that were trembling to wash traces of my sin. Of him. It had to be my ovulation, hormones were making me primed and overly stimulated, it wasn't Daniel who got me wet. Telling myself this and holding onto it was the only thing that kept me from going crazy. This was how I managed to fall asleep peacefully. I gagged on my toothbrush and spat the paste on the sink, I looked at my reflection again as I rinsed my mouth. Today, I planned to let my hair fall loose. Just like Jillian's. Maybe Daddy would finally notice that I was more mature, I hoped so. I stepped out of the bathroom and stood outside my wardrobe for ten minutes before choosing a dress. A red dress instead of my usual casual shorts and crop tops. The fabric feels too grown, but I wanted to look older, I wanted Daddy to see me as capable of receiving his lust. If I became like Jillian, would he find me attractive? I walked out of my room and skipped down the hallway, I buried my guilt somewhere in the back of my mind. Right now, I have more important things to do, like finding a way to make Daddy change his mind about sending me away. The kitchen smelled like beans and toast. Mrs Martha looked up when I walked in. "Good morning, Young Miss. Did you sleep well?" She greeted me warmly, her eyes flicked to my clothes, then to my hair, and then back to my face. She didn't make any remark. This was exactly why I liked her. She was always silent about the things that were none of her business. Martha was in her early sixties and frankly, the only housekeeper I'd allowed to stay. I'd kicked out the younger attractive housekeepers Daddy had employed, one after the other. All my caregivers in the past years had had to retire in less than a week because I always found fault with them and wanted only Daddy to take care of me. I had a keen eye for knowing the staff who craved a taste of Daddy's cóck, and I always let them know that he was mine. It had been tiring since young and old alike all wanted Daddy, that was until Martha, who was indeed a rare gem, the only woman who was a hundred per cent faithful to her husband thus far. "Yes, I slept great, Martha." I lied and looked around the kitchen for Daddy's usual mug "Have you made coffee for Daddy yet?" I asked, already excited to spot the mug. "Not yet, Miss," She shook her head. "I'll make it," I was already heading towards the coffee maker. Mrs Martha moved out of my way and went about her normal kitchen business, no questions asked. I hummed softly to myself as I measured coffee beans. Ten minutes later, I poured steaming coffee into a mug, black and two sugars, the exact way Daddy liked it. He had once told me that I made the best coffee in the world. I got this particular mug for him on his last birthday. It was warm in my palms as I carried it upstairs like an offering. Daddy's door was slightly open. I was just about to knock when I heard her voice. "...that bítch will finally get what she deserves, how long has it been? At least the council still remembers," My breath caught, my fingers tightening around the mug. Inside the room, I could hear the sound of a chair scraping. And then Daddy's voice came. "Enough, or I'll shut that foul mouth for you," He sounded angry. No, he was furious. I didn't know what was happening, but a part of me was elated. My heart was jumping with happiness. This was the first time I'd heard Daddy raise his voice at Jillian. Was there trouble in paradise after all? Please, please, they should fight more, I wished more than anything for Daddy to divorce her. A laugh dripped from Jillian's throat. "Why? Are you angry about what's going to happen? Why bother hiding it anyway when we know soon..." "Stop." Daddy's voice was colder now. "Make me." From the gap between the door, I saw it clearly. Daddy moved fast, too sudden for my brain to process. His hand groped Jillian's arm, she gasped and was already on her knees from Daddy's violent shove. Daddy loomed over her, breathing hard, his eyes were dark and filled with anger. What was happening? "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it if it gets you so worked up," Jillian was saying, and then her manicured fingers gripped Daddy's thighs, crawling upwards slowly. "Allow me to apologize, you can take your anger out on my mouth," Her voice lowered sultrily, she was staring into daddy's eyes like the bítch she was. My earlier excitement over their fight vanished, my stomach clenched with horror, as I watched Jillian begin to work on Daddy's belt. Then she dug her fingers into his pants and pulled out his cóck, resting it on her face like some trophy. The sight punched the air from my lungs. I swayed in the doorway, this couldn't be happening again. But it was, I could only watch helplessly as Mommy's tongue dragged up Daddy's cóck, slow and worshipful. She swirled her tongue around the swollen glans, teasing the slit until pre-cum beaded on her tongue. No. . . That was MINE to taste!