A Naughty Daughter

Audrey Kramer was not a happy camper.

Sure, she had just turned eighteen, and the birthday party she had with all her friends from high school had brought in a lot of nice gifts—not to mention a wad of cash from various relatives close and distant. But the fact that she was now officially an “adult” struck her as a grim irony: she felt anything like the independent, dynamic young woman she ought to be by this point.

She did, of course, look the part. She had already become skilled at dolling herself up with makeup—lipstick, eye shadow, rouge, the works—and, as frank and repeated examinations of her naked self in front of the mirror had abundantly established, her figure was succulent to men of all ages. While she was only of average height (five foot six), she thought her expansive boobs (36C), flat stomach, flaring hips, and round, firm bottom were irresistible to the male of the species; and she defied convention by leaving her pubic area unshaven, resulting in a thick tuft of fur reminiscent of the vintage 1970s porn film (brief clips of which she had managed to watch on various Internet sites). But her best feature, she felt, was her face: regular, even features, shining green eyes, slender nose, smallish mouth, fleshy lips, high cheekbones, all of it surrounded by a cascade of rich blond hair.

And yet, she was not happy.

Her parents’ divorce two years ago had been traumatic, and she hadn’t enjoyed the spectacle of being some kind of volleyball between her mother and father. At last, her father had won custody of her—but that had resulted in their having to live in a cramped little apartment, so different from the big house she had occupied up to that time; and because her father wasn’t exactly raking it in as a contractor, her anticipation at attending the local liberal arts college in the fall was muted by the humilation of having to commute to campus while living at home. Her dad was entirely clueless in the kitchen, so she had to take on the job of cooking for him—which made her feel like something of a drudge, or perhaps (although she tried to keep the thought out of her mind) a weird sort of young wife to a much older husband.

And to cap everything off, Audrey was still a virgin.

She couldn’t imagine how that had happened. All manner of boys had expressed interest in her in high school, but she had never gone “all the way” with them—or, she admitted humiliatingly, any of the way. Her parents’ divorce had really thrown her for a loop, and she had retreated into herself and gone on almost no dates during her last two years of high school. And now, with summer winding down and a grueling set of college courses impending, she wondered when—if ever—she would ever find the opportunity of relieving herself of her tiresome virginity.

And so, one day (and night) in late August, she staged her own mini-rebellion, spending an entire night with a boy—one Randall Coleman—who had for years looked at her with puppy-dog eyes and open mouth.

The absurdity of the situation was that, though both were “of age,” they had actually done nothing! Audrey had suddenly become embarrassed at being alone in bed with him (his parents were away on vacation), and Randall himself seemed so petrified at this close proximity of a desirable female that he had managed to do little that night except gawk at her. When, summoning up her courage, she had peeled down Randall’s underwear and exposed his stiffening member, it took Randall only a few pumps of Audrey’s hand before he splattered messily over his belly—and her hand. And then, seemingly exhausted, he had promptly turned away and gone to sleep! Audrey didn’t even have the heart to finish the job of her own stimulation herself.

But she knew that an earthquake would occur when she finally came home the next morning. And, sure enough, it did.

She had not only not told her dad, Arthur, where she would be that night, but had not bothered even to call him—and had turned her phone off in the wake of the frantic calls she knew would deluge that instrument all night. And so, when she sauntered into the apartment that morning (it was a Saturday, so Arthur didn’t have to report to work), the explosion predictably happened.

“Where have you been?” he thundered, red-faced.

“None of your business,” Audrey said truculently.

“None of our business? Are you insane, girl? What if you were lying dead on the street somewhere? I was on the verge of calling the police!”

“Well, I’m just fine. Nothing happened to me.”

“You were with a boy, weren’t you?”

“Of course I was!” she said, as if a moron could have figured that out. “So what?”

“So what?” Arthur all but screamed.

“I’m eighteen, Dad,” she snapped with a frown. “Remember? That means I’m an adult.” But even as she was saying it, she knew that was absurd.

Arthur glared back at her. “So long as you are living under this roof, young lady, you obey my rules. And that means, at the very minimum, telling me where you’re going to be, especially at night. And no boys!”

Audrey tried to summon up the boldness to sneer at her father. “So what the hell are you going to do?”

“I’ll show you what I’m going to do.”

Even Audrey, trying as she was to brazen it out, got a little apprehensive when she saw this hulking man approach her with obviously hostile intent.

“What the hell—?” she spat.

“I’m going to spank you,” he said with deceptive calmness.

“Spank me?” she said, chortling. “I’m not a kid. You can’t spank me.”

“Can’t I?”

And with that, he simply picked her up and carried her away.

Audrey started shrieking, “Put me down, you oaf!” But it was all to no avail. He marched, with Audrey tucked under one arm like a huge football, into her bedroom and closed the door.

“You are not going to spank me!” she cried in fury.

“Watch me,” he said in that same low voice.

He pulled out her desk chair, a simple wooden thing with no arms, and sat down in it. Then he arranged Audrey on his lap. She was writhing and twisting, but couldn’t get out of his grasp.

“Don’t you dare!” she said.

But he paid no need. He raised her thin skirt and looked at her white cotton underwear for a few moments. Then he pulled it down to her knees.

“Not on my bare bottom!” she shrieked, now thoroughly frightened. “You can’t do this!”

He began spanking.

And he spanked hard. It was not just the pain of the repeated strikes against her posterior, but the utter humiliation she felt at having her private parts all but exposed to her own father, that mortified her to the point that she wanted to sink into the earth and never emerge. Audrey was not one to cry—she didn’t think she had cried since she was about eight years old—but, as the open-handed spanking continued relentlessly, she was unable to withhold a torrent of choked tears. Eventually they gave way to sobs and wails that made her sound exactly like the little girl she thought she no longer was.

The spanking went on for the better part of fifteen minutes, but to Audrey it seemed like an eon. The pain had now become one unending dynamo of wretchedness and misery, and each repeated slap forced out from her throat a grunt that made it sound as if . . .

At long last, Arthur let up.

Audrey was still whining and mewing, and she could scarcely hear him when he said: “I hope you’ve learned a lesson now.”

She made no answer to that, but did her best to restrain her sniffling. Breathing hard, she managed to say: “I—I’m sorry.”

Arthur took the apology in the spirit in which it was intended. “I’m sure you are. I hope you’ll behave better from now on.”

He looked around and spotted some hand lotion conveniently within reach on a nightstand. He took it in his hands.

“Your bottom’s quite red. You’ve been punished enough, so maybe you need some relief.”

He squeezed some lotion onto his fingers and began applying it to Audrey’s bottom. The soothing coolness had an immediate effect, and she moaned as he spread it all over both cheeks of her butt. He rubbed slowly and carefully; and as he saw that the redness extended some ways down her thighs, he got more lotion and applied it there also.

Audrey was now almost humming with pleasure, and she unconsciously opened her legs.

She could sense her father’s breath become irregular as he at first tentatively, then more decisively, rubbed the lotion on the insides of her thighs. That made her spread her legs even further.

There was no question that he could now see her sex. She herself could feel her labia part wetly as her legs opened. And when Arthur, with supreme reluctance, extended a single finger and stroked her between those nether lips, she let out a moan whose intent was unmistakable.

Encouraged but still apprehensive, Arthur rubbed harder. From this direction it was difficult to reach Audrey’s clitoris except by placing his entire hand on her sex and reaching underneath her, but when his fingers did encounter that swollen nub she let out a gasp and a cry that almost sounded as if she was in pain. But she clearly wasn’t; for her pussy was now leaking with her fluid.

He continued his stroking, now casting all caution to the winds. With the other hand he continued to massage Audrey’s gorgeously curved bottom, and within minutes he induced in her a choking gargle and a prolonged moan that could only mean one thing.

His strokes continued until she had exhausted every ounce of pleasure from her orgasm. Then, suddenly appalled at what he had done, he quickly pulled up her underwear over her bottom and forced her to get off his lap and stand up. She was a bit wobbly on her feet and fell clumsily to a seated position on the bed nearby.

They just looked at each other.

Nothing will be the same between us ever again, they both thought.

While on his lap, Audrey had not failed to detect a certain swelling in her father’s groin. Now, as she sat gazing up at him, he approached her like a zombie, with wide eyes and stiff legs, as if unaware of what he was actually doing. The bulge in his pants was now unmistakable, and he looked down at it uncomprehendingly. He was now standing inches from her, and the bulge was directly in front of her face.

Audrey herself now behaved like an automaton, extending her hands up to the belt encircling her father’s pants and unfastening the buckle. In seconds she had unzipped his pants, and they slid down to his feet. His erection now looked almost painful, trapped as it was in his underwear, and she took pity on the poor, straining thing and released it, peeling down his briefs to join his pants.

The cock she was now facing was quite a bit larger than Randall’s—close to eight inches, she estimated. It was quivering right in front of her face, expressing a mute appeal for relief. She was a bit in awe of the thing—this organ that had led to her very existence. But with only a slight hesitancy, she stuffed his cock into her mouth.

It actually felt nice in her mouth—big and thick, but with that soft skin around it—and she sucked for all she was worth. Arthur watched in a kind of trance as his daughter brought him to full erection—and more.

But he stopped her after a few moments, sensing that this wasn’t going to be the culmination. She sensed it too, and without a word she stood up and calmly undressed in front of him—blouse, skirt, socks, bra, and panties. As she stood proudly naked in front of him, she no longer thought of him as her father and herself as his daughter; instead, they were merely two people, a man and a woman (yes, a full-fledged, adult woman), desiring each other as two such people do.

Arthur didn’t waste time in relieving himself of the rest of his clothing. Then he took his daughter into his arms and held her close, relishing the exquisite feel of her naked body next to his—her breasts pressing against his chest, his own hands kneading her back, hips, thighs, and bottom, with a dim recollection of how his ex-wife—Audrey’s mother—had looked and felt very much this way twenty years ago when they were first intimate.

He gently encouraged her to lie down on the bed, then joined her. At first he paid intense devotion to her gorgeous breasts, squeezing, sucking, and licking them until they seemed to swell in his hands and their nipples protruded impishly. Then, bringing himself up so that his face looked down at hers while his body rested between her parted legs, he entered her.

Or tried to. He had assumed—not only from what he imagined was the previous night’s escapade with Randall but with several other incidents with other boys—that his daughter was well-versed in the act of being penetrated. But when he countered that surprising obstacle a few inches into her sex, his eyes boggled with amazement. Looking down at Andrey, he said:

“I didn’t think . . .”

“Well, I am, Daddy,” she said with embarrassment, even a little shame. “But—but you can go on. I wouldn’t want anyone else to deflower me.”

In a kind of daze, Arthur did go on. His breaking through that thin membrane did provoke a sharp cry from his daughter; but although a few tears leaked from her eyes, she quickly seemed to get into the spirit of things, raising her legs and bending her knees instinctively to allow him greater access to her innermost recesses. Arthur, stimulated as he had never been before, kissed her mouth, stroked her breasts and bottom, and ground her hips into her virgin pussy until that familiar sensation began spreading from his balls all through his body, and he sent multiple dollops of his essence into her without regret or apology.

He rolled off of her, landing heavily on his back. As he looked over at her, he saw the telltale drops of blood around her sex and on her thighs; and as he gazed down at himself, he noticed how the bright red substance had streaked his own member. He rose stiffly from the bed, picked up his daughter gently in his arms, and took her to the bathroom, where he made her sit on the toilet and washed away the blood from her and himself as best he could. He was touched at how Audrey was looking up at him trustingly, with a shy little smile on her face.

When they returned to the bed, they cuddled for a while. Given the circumstances, it wasn’t at all surprising that Arthur revived in a matter of minutes. He knew that what he had done was wrong, but the idea of having placed his member—the organ that had created Audrey eighteen years ago—into his daughter was so stimulating, mentally and spiritually, that he couldn’t help being aroused again when he held her naked body close to his. She was not slow in noticing, and she looked up at him.

“You want some more?” she said in a little girl’s voice.

“Yes,” he said huskily.

“I’m a little sore, Daddy,” she said sulkily.

“Well, there’s something else we could do,” he said with supreme hesitancy.

She didn’t know what he meant. She knew that you could have sex in all sorts of different positions, but how would that help? Her pussy really was pretty sore—not just from the destruction of her hymen, but from the mere act of having accommodated a quite large (maybe eight inches) cock for the first time.

When he whispered into her ear what he had in mind, she gasped. She knew that some of her girl friends had had this done to them by their boyfriends—or, at least, had claimed they had had it done. But it all sounded rather nasty.

“Daddy, you’re so naughty!” she cried.

Arthur had the good grace to look abashed.

“Is this something you did with Mom?” she asked accusingly.

“No,” Arthur admitted. “She wouldn’t let me.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. It doesn’t sound like a lot of fun—for the woman, I mean.”

“Some girls like it,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure I’m one of them.”

“Can’t we just try?” he said, desperation entering his voice.

Audrey heaved a weary sigh. “Oh, all right, if you’re so insistent.” The things I have to do to please my men.

With that, Arthur all but leaped from the bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked in alarm.

“Just getting this,” he said, reaching for the hand lotion on the desk. “You gotta use this stuff—lube, you know.”

With another sigh, she rolled over onto her stomach and waited for him to do his job. It now seemed like an eon since he had rubbed her bottom with that same lotion as an antidote to the spanking she had received; and now, as he gently inserted one or two fingers into her anus to lubricate her properly, she had the strange sensation of being a little girl again, receiving a suppository at a doctor’s office.

When he had finished, he put some of the remaining lube on his own member and then placed himself gently on top of his daughter. As he brought the tip of his cock up against that nether opening, Audrey was suddenly overcome with trepidation.

“Oh, Daddy, I’m scared!” she cried.

“Just calm down, dear,” he said soothingly. “You need to relax. It’ll hurt more if you tense up.”

That advice was easy to say but difficult to follow. As he entered her, she found the sensation so peculiar—very different, somehow, from his entering her the other way—that she couldn’t help but stiffen up. And that did result in a fair amount of pain, causing her to cry out gruffly. But somehow, as he continued going in inch by inch, she seemed to gain a strange sort of peace. What she had already done with her father was, in the eyes of most of the world, an appalling act of moral depravity, even a crime; but now that that was over, this new act of perversion seemed like a mere peccadillo, and she suddenly went passive, allowing him to enter almost up to the root while she felt only a kind of fulfillment such as she had never felt.

As a properly raised girl in the modern age, she shouldn’t have liked the sense of helplessness that descended upon her as she found herself in this utterly vulnerable position; but as she resigned herself to that sensation, she felt that at times there was really nothing wrong with being helpless, and she knew that her father—who now brought his arms around her chest and cupped her breasts in his hands as he began pounding her bottom vigorously—would never do anything to hurt her. She may have been feeling pain right now, but the feeling had now become so transcendently strange that she almost felt as if she were having an out-of-body experience, looking down at herself while her father ground his cock into her ass.

When he came, he did so violently and with a succession of animalistic grunts, while at the same time he clutched her breasts even tighter with his hands. The fluid he deposited into her felt more than a little peculiar, and as he rested his whole weight upon her, still plugging her up to the hilt, she lost all sense of time, wondering if this odd embrace would go on forever. But at last she was forced to say:

“Daddy, you’d better come out of me now.”

He did so with a further grunt, and his final withdrawal sent a final shot of pain through her. But there was also a tremendous satisfaction that came with it, and she only now realized that she had had a thunderous climax at almost the same time as her father had.

As she turned her head to look at him, lying gasping on his back, she smiled softly to herself.

Yes, things will never be the same between us again. I’m Daddy’s little wife now.