The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kate was already up and about. In fact, Ashley could clearly hear people fraternizing down the hall, since her friend had left the door wide open. Having fallen asleep with her pajama bottoms and underwear down around her thighs, Ashley wondered who all had used that open door to see what. One more humiliation atop the pile.

As she picked out the day’s outfit, Ashley shut the bedroom door almost all the way, not wanting to cause offense if this was another weird new rule of Bre’s house. Normally a shower would start her off in the morning, but she didn’t want to hold up breakfast, in case they were waiting on her. Her wardrobe looked oddly inadequate and over-formal at the same time, considering the Donners’ new vibe. Ultimately she went with what they’d worn yesterday and put on her swimsuit, red with darker red vertical stripes, then a pair of shorts over them. It was way less than she’d ever worn to lounge around the house, especially around a girlfriend, and especially especially around strange men. Still, it flattered her body, clinging to her every curve, the stripes emphasizing her moderate yet shapely bust. It was a reminder to lookers-on that Ashley was more than a pretty face.

Also, she supposed, she could go swimming in it later.

She darted across the hall into the bathroom and spent a few minutes on her hair and makeup. She hadn’t even brought makeup of her own. What would have been the point? To impress Kate, Grace and Bre? She teased up her thick blonde hair, giving it some extra volume. It looked rustic, per the cabin getaway, or less charitably, like hair the morning after good sex. She supposed it was, though she hadn’t been the one having it. To her feminine eye, she looked ridiculous, dressed for the beach, but made up for a hot date. To a man, she probably just looked like sex on legs.

Breakfast was cooking, her nose told her.

With a sigh, she lowered her shorts and swimsuit and lathered her pussy with the canister of shaving cream sitting on the back of the toilet. It was dangerous to be so hasty with something like this, but she didn’t want to keep them waiting. A few short minutes later, she patted the smooth space above her slit. Fuck, it looked slutty. It made her feel weirdly confident, yet self-conscious at the same time. Like she was asking to be inspected, but had the comfort of knowing that at least she’d pass.

Ashley laughed at her reflection in the mirror. As if she were going to show anyone. Certainly not her friend’s daddy.

Or, um, her boyfriend. Almost forgot him. He could see it, she supposed. Maybe. It wasn’t really his place. Ashley scowled at the thought of him looking at her like this. Or did she still have a boyfriend? She remembered breaking up with him, but Ashley was pretty sure that had been something out of that meandering, lustful dream from last night. Kate’s dad had typed up the text message telling him to fuck off and die. He’d called, but she’d been busy moving on, so he left this pathetic sobbing voicemail, like a fucking piece of shit simp.

What a weird night. Weird dreams.

Maybe she would break up with him, though. If he wasn’t even man enough to claim her in a sex dream, he didn’t deserve her.

At last, she tugged her clothes back on, making sure her boobs weren’t hanging out too much, and headed for the kitchen. Her tummy was rumbling. Last night’s salad hadn’t been nearly enough. “Smells amazing! What are we—”

Ashley rounded the corner, and there were the Donners.

Except for their newest addition, they were naked.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” said Bre with a bemused reproach. “We’re having veggie scrambles. Yours is in the oven keeping warm, dear.”

No, not naked, Ashley realized as she gaped. Topless. They were only topless. That wasn’t as bad. Especially for Kate, whose breasts were actually pretty small. She sure had big nipples, though. Really sexy. (She wasn’t supposed to look that sexy in front of family though, was she?) Grace took after her mother with two whopping tits, each crested with a silver ring piercing the nipple. Hadn’t they been bars, not rings? She thought she remembered hearing bars. These were hotter, though, for sure. Rings big enough to fit a finger. A man’s finger. Any man who put a finger through one of those rings would basically own her. There would be no resisting even the slightest pressure. A man could tug with a pinky and she would be powerless not to follow behind him, wherever he led her.

And, um, Bre’s huge boobs were out, too. Ashley made herself stop glaring at Grace’s living, slightly sagging boast. Bre was wearing an apron, but around her waist only. The only thing on her tits were her husband’s eyes.

“Oh. Um, thanks,” Ashley said. She retrieved her meal from the oven, taking the opportunity to open her mouth in a silent scream. What the hell was this?! Last night had been crazy, but at least each girl had been doing their naughtiness in the privacy of their own room. Except for Kate and Ashley, of course, since they had to share a bed. And Bre, who’d been fucked so loudly it would have been as private to livestream it.

Still, Grace had gotten to be private about it. That was… something. Not good, but… less bad.

Ashley sniffed at her plate. It was mostly grilled veggies, with maybe half an egg crumbled in with it. “We’re watching what we eat,” Kate said diplomatically, seeing her friend’s reticence. “Mom had to make a whole extra trip back to the grocery store Wednesday when Daddy told us she’d messed everything up. She came through for us.”

“Oh. Yeah, important to be healthy,” Ashley agreed. Seeing the way Bre was eyeing her, like she was the least grateful houseguest in recorded history, she dug in and made sure to express her happiness with the cuisine around a mouthful of it. It tasted like plant. Not even food, just… plant. Bre hadn’t even seasoned it.

The smell, she realized, had been the breakfast for the man of the house. He was digging into a Denver omelet with a side of biscuits and gravy, or maybe vice versa. At first glance, Ashley had thought the latter was for the whole family, but nobody else was reaching for any. He was helping himself to both plates like he was helping himself to three eyefuls of titty. Round that up to four to account for Bre and Grace. The man was as shirtless as the rest of them, his lumpy man boobs almost as big as Kate’s pert, delectable pair. Even hers got some attention from him, which Ashley thought was at least fair of him, if incredibly perverted. Ashley wasn’t packing watermelons like Grace or anything, but hers were definitely pretty cute—she hoped—and so perky they seemed like they wouldn’t sag for years and years yet. At 18, Grace was already starting to droop a bit. Served her right.

Not that anyone deserved to be objectified like this.

Conversation was kept to a minimum. Grace was watching something on her phone, listening with earbuds, withdrawn from family camaraderie as usual. Evidently unlike Ashley, she’d had the foresight to download something. Kate’s eyes were glued to her plate, like she was embarrassed about something. (Oh right, her boobs were out. Or was that it? She wasn’t even trying to conceal them.) Bre ate her own breakfast with eyes fixed firmly on Ashley. Had… had she done something wrong? The last time she remembered getting a look like that from Kate’s mom had been the night they’d gotten drunk at a party and called Bre for a ride home. They’d been told (and told, and told) she was glad they’d called instead of trying to drive themselves or hopping in a car with a stranger, but there had been that look. That parental I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed look.

They… they couldn’t really expect her to…

No way. That was gross. Slutty. Degrading! Humiliating! In front of a man she’d only met the night before? Sure, his comfort level with his topless stepdaughters made it seem like he’d been part of the family since forever, but… she couldn’t… Not when it was so…

Ashley caught herself thinking more in those disparaging terms, and with a pang of guilt, realized she was thinking them at her friend, and her friend’s family. Thinking that they were gross, slutty, degraded, humiliated sex objects. Weren’t they, though? It didn’t seem to bother them, but… Shouldn’t it? It didn’t. Ashley was the only one who seemed to have a problem with it. She felt sure everyone ought to, but either everyone else was a psycho skank, or Ashley was the one who was the problem.

Was that bitchy of her? It wouldn’t actually cost you anything to go with the flow, Ashley supposed. When in Rome, and all that. So, when on Turner Way…

Ashley forced a laugh. “Sorry, I guess I’m overdressed, huh? I was, you know, in a rush this morning. Wasn’t, um, thinking. Heh. Hehe.” Then she slipped the straps off her shoulders and let spandex do what spandex did. The upper half of her swimsuit shot down to her waist. How had she been embarrassed to come out wearing a swimsuit just because it showcased serious cleavage? How had anything in her whole life ever been mortifying before this? Her boobs were out. At the breakfast table. In front of Kate’s new daddy.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to descend from her ivory tower,” said Grace. She flicked a piece of onion from her plate; it hit Ashley right in her freshly exposed left tit. For once, Ashley didn’t have a retort.

You’re only temporarily topless, she told herself. You can cover up again whenever you want.

With an exasperated look, Bre hooked a finger in one of her daughter’s nipple rings. Grace sat up sharply, leaned forward and winced pleadingly. “You’ll keep a respectful tongue at this table, young lady. Understood?”

“She started it!” Grace whimpered. “Bitch thinks she’s too good for us, like we’re a bunch of—”

Bre seized the other ring. She wasn’t using the muscles in her arms or even her wrists, simply moving a finger and watching her daughter whine with pain. The woman looked to her husband. He didn’t look up from his study of Ashley’s tits, and simply mumbled, “Listen to your mother, Grace.”

Grace whined like a kicked dog. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl. Please make her stop? Please, Daddy? It hurts.”

The man grunted around a mouthful of biscuit, a dribble of gravy running down his chin. Ashley acted like everything was normal, picking up her fork and getting right back to her own low-cal meal. She wanted nothing more than for this whole horrifying breakfast to end. Except… Bre had gone from upset with her, to standing up for her. Kate was smiling again, too, she noticed. She must have been really embarrassed, inviting someone over who right off the bat tried to judge and shame the family. Bre, too, her usual doting, affectionate grin in place.

Then she saw that gravy spillage. She released Grace and licked it off her husband’s chin.

“Bre Donner, ladies and gents, the human napkin,” grumbled Grace, rubbing her sore nipples.

“If you did your share of the cleaning maybe I wouldn’t have to,” Bre shot back, but good-naturedly.

Like that, things were back to normal.

Or, well, “normal.”

“So, um, what’re we up to today?” Ashley asked, now that the tension was gone. Except for her own. It was hard with those eyes on her half-naked body not to feel some tension.

Kate, Grace and Bre said not a word, looking to their daddy/hubby. He finished his bite. “Eh, I like to just see how things unfold, you know? Hang out, live in the moment.”

“That’s how it’s done, Daddy!” Grace gushed. “You know, Bre, you could learn a thing or two from him, trying to railroad everybody into having fun the Right Way.”

Her mother didn’t respond to the jab. “Clean your plates, girls. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Kate shook her head. “That’s such a myth, Mom. Every meal is important in its own way. Right, Ash?”

Ashley had always been a fitness buff, and her friend was absolutely right. It turned out organic chemistry was complex. (Complex enough to keep Ashley from following in her friend’s academic footsteps.) Proper dietary balance had a lot to do with an individual’s activity levels and the nutrients in said meal. After her faux pas covering up her boobs, though, Ashley took a big bite of peppers and onions and shrugged. “This breakfast is really good, I know that,” she mumbled, mouth full.

Bre beamed at her gratefully. “See? Now come on, Grace, Katy. Show your daddy how good you can clean those plates.”

“Ugh, Mom!” Kate whined. (Was she Katy now? Cute, sweet, silly little Katy? Ashley would try to avoid using her friend’s name so she didn’t give offense.) “Do I have to, Daddy?”

“Fuck off. You just want to make me do the dishes again.” Grace sneered at her big sister, then bent down to drag her tongue around her plate. Over and over. Licking and licking. Her hands were holding back her mop of black hair rather than the object of her grotesque cleaning ritual, so the plate slid around the table a little whenever it met friction. Grace’s eyes slid shut, and there was no mistaking the eroticism she was applying.

When Ashley looked back, Kate was doing the same. Little whimpers that sounded like pleasure rippled from her throat, despite there being no apparent source of enjoyment to be had in the activity.

Ashley wolfed down her last few bites. Not knowing what else to do, she joined them. She licked that plate until it gleamed, waiting for a pleased nod from Bre before she let herself stop. Better to be embraced in disgrace than disowned with dignity.

Only once her hostesses stood up from the kitchen table did Ashley realize how close she’d been with her initial assessment of the family’s state of dress. Bre was wearing her apron and an electric blue band that failed to cover either the top or bottom of her ass crack. It might have been a repurposed halter top; if it was a skirt, it had been fabricated for a child prostitute. Grace was sporting either bikini bottoms or a pair of panties. It was hard to tell which, and when Ashley tried to satisfy the itch of curiosity, it earned her a dirty look and a “It’s not for sale, ya college dyke.”

As for Kate, she was wearing a skirt, but only in the most technical sense. Like with her mother, Ashley wondered what junior’s department sold clothing like that. The gray pleated number gave the impression that it was pulled up too high on Kate’s waist, when in fact the opposite was true, slung so low on her friend’s hips that even if Ashley hadn’t seen it last night, she would have known her friend wasn’t in possession of a bush. It hung down three, maybe four inches. It left her thigh gap bare, and from behind, easily half her ass, too. Every step flashed a glimpse of her naked pussy. When she asked her daddy if she could go outside and play with her friend—a question Ashley hadn’t heard Kate ask in over a decade—he took advantage of that brief skirt to pinch her directly on her bottom after giving her his blessing.

(So long as the girls didn’t wander out of earshot, Bre added quickly. This was a family weekend, not a private retreat for Kate and her friend.)

No escape. There’s no escape.

“Um, it’s OK that we’re outside, right?” Ashley asked as she and Kate shuffled along the lakeshore. It was grassy, and the grass felt pleasant between her toes. (Normally she hated going outdoors barefoot, but if she was going to follow the Donners’ example in baring her chest, it seemed silly not to do so where her feet were concerned.)

“Yeah, Daddy said it’s fine. It’s really quiet out here, so we’ll be able to hear if he needs us.”

Ashley gave her friend a playful shove. It felt weird, touching a mostly naked girl, but she wanted to act like things were normal, no matter how un-normal they felt. “I meant, is it OK that we’re walking around outside with our boobs hanging out.”

“Oh. Right.” Kate’s fair skin blushed. It also seemed to remind her that her mane of straight, pale blonde hair was covering them up. She brushed it over her shoulder, as exposed as she could be once more, and looking relieved for it. “Yeah, there’s nobody else out here. Just family. And you.”

“Good. Good.” It was not good. Showing off her tits to Kate’s family, especially now that the family included some random horndog who couldn’t be bothered to hide his boner when he was holding out his dishes for his wife to lick clean. (Ashley supposed the woman had a little more padding on her frame to absorb the extra calories, so that was… good?)

They walked in silence for a little ways—a very little ways, back and forth over a few hundred feet—but for quite some time. Whenever Ashley tried to go farther, Kate called her back. Pretty soon Ashley gave up trying to get somewhere they could talk without fear Kate’s parents would overhear. They talked about school, mostly. Kate spoke with pride about this prestigious professor she was studying under, about the nineteen credit hours she was taking that semester, how brutally challenging it was, but how validating at the same time. Ashley was a good student, solid 3.6 GPA. Maybe she wasn’t a brainiac like Kate, but she shared a few stories herself just to make sure her friend didn’t forget she wasn’t the only smarty-pants at the lake.

Not that anybody seemed to have remembered to pack any pants.

On that note, Ashley eventually decided they’d gotten through the perfunctory topics—except boys, weirdly, but Ashley didn’t see a point in talking about her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend—and it was time to take on something bigger.

“So, yeah. I see you’ve changed up your, you know, fashion sense.”

Kate nodded. (Not that Ashley saw her nod; she’d been walking in front so she didn’t have to stare at Kate’s bare butt jiggling up and down their minuscule strip of lakeshore.) “Daddy brought some outfits for us. We didn’t even ask, but he went out of his way for us. Isn’t he thoughtful?”

Sure, thought Ashley, if you count thoughts of his stepdaughters’ tits and asses.

“Oh, for sure. Just, usually you, I don’t know, go for outfits with a little more… class.”

“And a little less ass, huh?” Kate laughed. “Yeah, I hear you. Still, he is my stepdaddy. I thought it was kinda weird when we first met, but I got used to it pretty fast. New addition to the family is gonna mean some changes. He’s adjusting, too.”

Ashley eyed the house cautiously. She could see Grace lying out on the deck, but no sign of parental units. “Right. But, um, you don’t have to adjust… that far, do you?” She was whispering.

Kate shrugged. “He’s my daddy, now. I have to set a good example for Grace. Not like I can just ignore it when he tells me to do something, right?”

Can’t you, though? “Hey, speaking of stepdaddy, what am I supposed to call him? He’s not my dad, or, I mean, my daddy. Whatever. Is he more of a first name kind of guy, or a Mister…?”

“Huh. I don’t know. He told me and Grace he liked to be called daddy, so that’s what we went with. I bet he wouldn’t mind if you did, too.”

“Really? That wouldn’t be…” Slutty? “Uncomfortable? For him, I mean.”

Kate laughed, and it was her turn to give a playful shove. “Right, because dudes hate it when cute blondes with perfect asses call them ‘daddy.’” She giggled through a deep-voiced impression of him. “‘No, Katykins, oh no, your tasty blonde friend whose nipples could cut my steak for me keeps calling me by affectionate nicknames, make her stop no!’”

“Oh my god, are they that noticeable?” Ashley almost clapped her hands over them, but they were at the point in their path closest to the house, and she didn’t want anybody peeking at her boobs through the windows to think she was being judgmental again.

“Ashley, if those things got any pointier I think you’d need a license to carry them.” Kate saw her old friend turning red, though, and patted her bare shoulder consolingly. “Don’t feel embarrassed. You look cute like that. Really. I bet nobody else but Daddy even noticed, and I promise you he doesn’t mind.”

Ashley wasn’t sure she liked having them noticed, by him or by anyone, but Kate said it as a positive, and she didn’t want to make things weird by arguing about it. Two more days of having her tits leered at by a stranger and she could go back to school. Wear clothes. Act like she had some dignity.

The girls straggled in for lunch exhausted. Made sense, considering their sudden no-protein no-carb diet. Grace was still sunning her already thoroughly tanned body on a deck chair. (Definitely panties. Definitely 90% sure.) Ashley had thought she was asleep behind those sunglasses until she spoke up. “Bre’s gonna cut your lady nuts off if you track all that mud in the house, ya hilljack hoes.”

The girls grudgingly agreed. After checking for an outdoor water spigot and coming up wanting, a combination of nagging and threats persuaded Grace to retrieve Kate’s flip-flops from her bedroom. Once she’d gotten inside, she opened the window high up over the shower and dropped them out for Ashley.

Bre was in the kitchen making lunch (a thoroughly meat-laden sub for Daddy, plus celery sticks with organic peanut butter for the girls). She nodded approvingly to Ashley’s effort at cleanliness. No sign of her husband. Could this be an opportune moment to dig for some answers about how they’d met? Why Bre, a woman so milfy Kate had had to find out what that term meant at the tender age of 9, was married to the world’s most average Joe?

Bah. He could be around any corner. Maybe she could ask Kate while they—

“Oh. Um, hi Daddy.”

There he was, leaning his butt against the bathroom sink, studying his oldest stepdaughter in the shower. The title fell from Ashley’s lips without thinking. Like Kate had said, he only smiled and gestured to the shower. Was… was he ordering her to get into the shower with Kate? Kate, who was now completely naked, her joke of a skirt draped over the glass shower wall?

That was smart, Ashley thought, taking off her shorts. No sense getting her clothes wet. Plus, she still had her swimsuit on, kind of. It was tight enough around her hips that she didn’t have to work too hard to keep it from falling all the way off. Nothing Kate hadn’t seen this trip, but she wasn’t about to be flashing her pussy at the man. Kate was. She wasn’t. No way.

“Come on in! Daddy thought it might be better if we wash each other’s feet,” Kate said, opening the door for her. “C’mon, I’ll do yours first.”

Ashley didn’t have a response for that. So she sat down on the shower floor across from Kate, and they took turns washing one another’s feet while the man sipped a beer and watched. Was foot-washing… erotic? Ashley didn’t know. She couldn’t think of any other reason it would be spectator sport. Kate sure seemed to be trying to make it erotic, resting Ashley’s idle foot between her breasts while she massaged the other. She was gentle, thorough, more massaging than merely scrubbing. Once they were clean enough, she even sucked on Ashley’s toes a little. It tickled, which was the only reason she was laughing.

When it was her turn to wash Kate’s, she imitated that same style. The last thing she wanted was for the man to tell Bre she was being a prig again.

Ashley had never put any part of a foot in her mouth before. She hoped she wouldn’t have to again. But maybe they’d go for another walk tomorrow and this was practice. Maybe this was just what hanging out with Kate was now. Nakedness and shame and this constant, inexplicable horniness.

Bre called that lunch was ready, which meant it was finally time to get out of the shower. She let Kate out first. Daddy—so easy to think of him that way, this affable fellow who was just there now in their home—was holding a towel. Rather than take it from him, Kate raised her arms and allowed him to pat her slender, sexy body dry. He did so right in front of the shower door, so Ashley had no choice but to watch him dab every last inch of Kate’s naked form. Every. Last. Inch. The girl squirmed as he got especially thorough between her legs, and Ashley could imagine the blissed out smile on Kate’s face.

“Ashley?”

She stepped out. Unasked, he attempted to do the same for her, but she hastily snatched the towel from him. “I-I can do it,” she stammered anxiously. Anxious in part because he’d tried to touch her, and in part because grabbing the towel meant she’d let go of her swimsuit, snapping from her lancing grasp and whipping right down to the floor.

Daddy laughed. “I know you can. I’m only saying, in this house, you don’t have to.”

He watched her towel herself off. No sense putting my soggy swimsuit back on, she reasoned. Instead, she simply grabbed her shorts and wore only those. She was officially topless, no more “temporarily” about it. And geez, had Kate ever been right about her nipples. It was probably perfectly natural to be a little turned on after all the touching in the shower. It still made her blush when Katy pointed it out to him, though.

“You’re a good friend to her, Katykins,” said Daddy, helping himself to a thorough squeeze of his stepdaughter’s butt. Appreciatively, Ashley supposed. It was a compliment, not fondling.

OK, not just fondling. Still, Ashley could see how it might feel… nice. For Kate. Not her. She wasn’t going to let him touch her. Good that he was bonding with his kids, though. Or whatever.

Ashley’s tummy rumbled as she watched Daddy scarf down his sandwich. At least the girls got something other than water. Kombucha, Bre explained. It tasted about like the lake smelled, but if her hosts had gone out of their way to get it for her, Ashley wasn’t about to get picky. She was jealous of Grace, who ate her lunch on Daddy’s lap, rewarded for shoving her big titties in his face with a nibble of real food. He even let her drink a few swallows of his beer. Out of his mouth, but still.

“Um, she’s not twenty-one,” Ashley heard herself mutter.

Daddy gave one of Grace’s big, dangling knockers a squeeze. “She feels adult enough to me.”

Again with the fondling! Ashley forced a smile on her pretty blonde features. Maybe it was even a little easier than it had been at breakfast. After all, Grace getting her maturity recognized by the man of the house, that had to feel pretty good for her. Meanwhile, Kate sucked on her celery until it went limp in her mouth. Slutty, but it made Daddy smile, so Ashley considered she might simply be trying her best to get along with her stepdad. Bre was watching her daughters bond with her new husband with a broad, placid smile on her face. Not until the meal was over did Ashley see she was fucking herself with a piece of celery under the table.

Or… no, that had to be just weird lighting or something. Scratching her thigh, over and over, rhythmically. No way she was… No. Moms might get dicked sometimes, as Bre had said (shrieked) last night, but moms didn’t masturbate. Not at the table, not in front of their kids, not with the only paltry nutrients they were permitted. Certainly not all three.

After lunch, Kate informed the group that she’d found an intact bags set in the shed, and wondered if they might like to play. Ashley was certainly up for it.

Daddy seconded the suggestion. “It’s cornhole, not bags, but sure. I’ll play.”

“You can play with my cornhole any time,” Grace joked. (It was a joke, right? It had to be.)

So they took turns sitting out while the other four played, two to a team. Ashley was clearly the best of the lot, having played softball in middle and high school, surprisingly followed by Bre. Grace blamed her poor throwing on her tits getting in her way. Once Daddy nearly lost the first round (Ashley kept trying to beat him, but Kate began throwing so awfully it had to be intentional), he gave up trying. It was during Grace’s turn at sitting out as scorekeeper that the youngest daughter came up with the hilarious joke of appointing Daddy the winner, despite having barely hit the board with his half-assed throws. He seemed to think that was good jest, calling the girls “my pretty little losers.”

Ashley didn’t like being called a loser, not at all. However, even though he took it a bit far for her liking with all the “nice toss, loser” and “as much time as you spend in your holes, surprised you’re so bad at this,” he still made sure to show his appreciation for his daughters through the teasing. Every time his opponent, throwing at his side, made a good toss, he made sure to give them a pat on the ass, a squeeze of their boobs, or sometimes a simple scruffing of their hair like they were moderately trained yet beloved beagles.

It was actually really sweet, the more she saw it. He really supported them, even if they were a bunch of losers. Ashley’s own dad barely even came to her games. He sure as hell never lavished that kind of affection on her even when she was showing the world what an incompetent loser she was.

Not that she was. Just in this one game.

“I can’t believe how much he’s taken to the girls,” Bre said at the end of a match, coming over to relieve Ashley as scorekeeper. “I’m the luckiest woman in the whole world. He’s such a better father than, um…”

Bre never did finish the sentence with her ex-husband’s name. Ashley got that. She’d blocked out her ex-boyfriend’s name, too. No drama this weekend. Just family. Not her family, but still. Family.

“I need someone to blow me,” said Daddy.

Bre put an arm around Ashley’s shoulder. “Why don’t you and Grace take the boat out for a spin?”

“You mean Kate,” Ashley corrected, politely.

“No, Kate has chores to get done before dinner. Come on now, Grace. Show Ashley how it’s done.”

“Uh, she’s not my friend,” complained Grace. Ashley agreed, though. She put up with Grace well enough, but Ashley had always found her to be a hard person to like. “I didn’t sign up to chaperone Little Miss Hides-Her-Tits for the weekend. Why should I—”

Daddy wasn’t in the mood for tantrums, though. He was in the mood for exactly one thing, and he’d just announced what it was. “Hey now, do you want to be my good girl, Grace? Because you know good girls get rewarded.”

Grace suddenly broke out in ear to ear smiles. “Just for you, Daddy.” Apparently whatever incentive structure he was using seemed to work. “Come on, bimbo,” she said to Ashley, dragging her by the arm into the boathouse. By the time they got the boat started and out onto the water, Kate, Bre and Bre’s husband were nowhere to be seen.

Ashley had been looking forward to that boat ever since Kate pitched this outing to her. Turned out, being stuck on a boat with a catty, taciturn teenager wasn’t as fun as sailing around with your best friend. It did give her an opportunity to address the stud in Grace’s tongue, which she’d noticed from the sound it had made cleaning breakfast dishes. It was new, though when she asked about it, she was told that the girl had had it “forever” and, after Ashley extended an olive branch complimenting it, that “she didn’t get it to impress the bourgeoisie.” As if Ashley’s family didn’t live three doors down from theirs back home. Ashley asked who it was meant to impress, but Grace merely rolled her eyes and said it wasn’t something she discussed with non-family.

Grace curled up on a bench at one end of the boat, lost in her phone, and Ashley steered the craft in broad circles around the water. They didn’t sail for long. The lake wasn’t very big, for one, and neither Grace nor Ashley was eager to spend more time trapped exclusively with the other. Ashley let Grace go on ahead and moored the boat herself, took a few minutes to luxuriate in the simple absence of eyes on her bare breasts, then headed inside to see if she could help Kate with those chores. The place had been spotless, so she really had no idea what they could be.

Grace was sunning herself again, smearing tanning oil on her mostly naked body on the deck. Inside, Ashley saw no one. She called out to her friend, though, aware a blowjob could well still be occurring on the premises, not loudly enough to disturb its recipient. Nothing. She headed down the hall to the three bedrooms, and it was immediately apparent that it was still in progress.

“Grgh, grgh, gawk, grgh, grgh,” said Bre’s cock-filled throat behind the door to the master bedroom. Unlocked. Love sure had made her irresponsible.

“You know, you’re actually halfway decent at this,” said a man’s voice. The man’s voice. “Wouldn’t have figured you for a pedigreed cocksucker. Maybe you’re not a complete loser after all.” A condescending laugh.

“Grgh, grgh, mmmm, grgh, gawk,” his wife responded.

Ashley stood there, listening. Was that what she sounded like when she gave head? She didn’t think so. That was a throat sound. A slut sound. Ashley wasn’t averse to giving head, but she didn’t think she made those kinds of noises. If only she had someone with firsthand experience she could ask. Alas.

She giggled to herself softly. Maybe Bre could show her sometime. There was still plenty of celery left.

“What’s so funny, sweetie?”

Ashley nearly jumped out of her skin as Bre exited the bathroom behind her. “Um, Ms. Donner—err, Bre! I… I was…” What was she doing? I’m eavesdropping on the woman I’m now standing here looking at while she sucks her husband’s cock behind a closed door. That was the answer, but it made no earthly sense.

“I’m so glad you could come out here with us this weekend,” the woman said into Ashley’s stunned silence. “I was just saying to Katy the other week how much I missed having you girls in the house.”

“Gawk, awk, awk, awgh, grgh,” said the woman behind that door. A woman who could only be Kate, except…

Um, except…

Ashley couldn’t think of any other exception to that reality. Katy—Kate—was sucking Daddy’s dick.

“At least you still have Grace,” she said half-heartedly.

“Boy, don’t get me started on that one. She’s lucky her daddy has more patience for that attitude of hers than I do.” She frowned disapprovingly. Not at the unmistakable noises of her older daughter gagging on her husband’s cock not ten feet away, but sure, Grace could be kind of a bitch, Ashley supposed.

“Anyway, dinner’s in an hour. Why don’t you come give me a hand and tell me all about how school’s going.”

Chicken parmesan tonight. Eggplant, for the ladies. Not eggplant parmesan; just plain old eggplant. Ashley almost asked for some cheese for herself, but when nobody else with a uterus did, she told herself she didn’t need the calories. What she really didn’t need was her friend’s family thinking she was a pig. At least the eggplant washed the tang of cum off of her friend’s breath.

More games that evening. Not board games, but like the afternoon, a physical sort.

Twister.

I’m playing topless twister with my best friend and her sister and her mother, Ashley thought numbly. Daddy sat in his chair and watched; whenever one of his daughters or his wife fell, he helped pick her up, brushed her off, and reinforced his pride by patting their butts back onto the mat. It was actually really sweet, Ashley decided. Her dad would never do that for her. She didn’t think he would even watch her play naked Twister in the first place. So judgy.

She wished her family was more like the Donners. Only, with clothes. Families should wear clothes, she was pretty sure.

Grace ended the game by showboating, trying to show off her flexibility by striking poses on the Twister mat. Those titanic titties of hers made for horrible balance, which helped her mediocre upper body strength not at all. Daddy applauded her anyway, then sat her on his lap beside her mother and told his Katykins to give it a go. She was even worse. Katykins—Kate, her name is Katy, Ashley reprimanded herself—had the body of a ballerina, short and slender and half legs, unburdened by excess boobage. She had the agility, however, of a drunken bulldog. The whole family enjoyed some good laughs watching the graceless loser fall over herself again and again.

Ashley did far better. She’d been a three-sport athlete in high school, including gymnastics, and was a regular in the gym at her school. She assumed a backward arch and held it, knowing full well it made her perky tits look positively dynamite. Then she held it. For minutes. Even when Grace decided to be a cunt and started unbuttoning Ashley’s shorts, she held on.

Even when Grace pulled them off and showed everyone her freshly shaved snatch.

Finally, arms burning, she gave in. Daddy helped her up, but she scooted aside before she received her butt pat. Even if she did earn it. It wasn’t right, she thought. The man was getting blowjobs from his daughter. Plus, she shouldn’t care if he thought she’d done a good job. She really shouldn’t.

Both of them, Ashley thought, remembering Grace’s comment about her tongue ring being a family affair, or however she’d said it. But no way. Grace had proclaimed once, when one of their friends had lost his temper and told Kate’s little sis to “blow me,” that if anybody ever put a cock in her mouth, they best be ready to have it bitten off. No way she’d reversed that policy for a man who had to be nearly twice her age. Who was fucking her sister’s mouth and her mother’s pussy. No way. Not Grace.

Kate and Ashley didn’t hesitate to change in front of each other that night. Not that Kate had the night before, really. Now that they’d bathed one other (albeit only from the knees down), what was the point in blushing? Even when Kate said she liked that Ashley had shaved, it was no biggie. Every girl in the house had, she knew by then. It was simply fitting in. If Daddy thought her pussy looked more fuckable that way, so what? He wasn’t her Daddy. Not really.

Neither girl bothered with more than their panties in bed that night. Their joint body heat was plenty of warmth.

Ashley stared at the ceiling, waiting for the sound of Bre and her husband celebrating their nuptials. At last, her ears picked up the sound of a soft, low feminine moan. It was pure need. Not want. Need. Ashley sighed in relief. At least for all the embarrassment and ogling, she’d scored front row seats to the Daddy’s Dick Show. Beside her, Kate was sighing, too. It didn’t sound like relief, though.

The girls giggled at their tandem exhalation. This was so ridiculous. When they’d had sleepovers as kids, they’d practiced laying there quietly until Kate’s dad began snoring, which meant Bre’s ear plugs were in. Then they could gossip and titter and posit what-if’s at each other until sunup. Only now, they were all grown up.

And now, they were waiting for Kate’s mom to be penetrated before they touched themselves.

Kate didn’t wait. She heard that moan, gave her fingers a nice wet lick and was off to the races. She was fearless. Or… a slut? Ashley didn’t know. It was bolder than she could be. That low moan kept going, pausing only to allow fresh air into lungs. Only… the acoustics. Something didn’t quite sound…

Was it coming from next door instead of across the hall…?!

“I’m your good girl, Daddy,” came the voice attached to that moan. It was more whimper than words. “I’m your good girl. Good, like you told me. I did what you said. Please tell me I’m your good girl. So good girl. Good little girl. Good girl who does what Daddy tells her. Good girl who obeys her daddy without question. A good, good girl. Please, Daddy. Please.”

“Katy!” Ashley hissed in the dark. “That’s not your mom. That’s—”

“Oh thank you Daddy!” cried Grace.

“Shhh,” cautioned Katy.

“Grab your ankles. Let’s see if you learned anything from Katykins’ little friend tonight.”

“I’ll try my best, Daddy.”

“If you want to get stuffed, you’d better try. Atta girl.” The scene next door played unbidden in Ashley’s imagination. Daddy patting Grace’s ass, now the highest point of her body as she did her best to match her sister’s former gymnastics trainee in balance. No way the girl was still wearing those panties. Ashley adjusted the mental image accordingly, Grace’s bare cunt glistening in the moonlight. God it was wet.

God I was wet.

No touching yourself, though. That’s Grace over there, for crying out loud!

“That’s my good girl. Your mom, no way she could bend over like that. Fuck, you’re a hot little bitch.”

“Mmm, thank you. Do you want to fuck me, Daddy? You said it yourself, I’m a good girl, and good girls are only good for getting fucked. Remember?”

“As if I could forget. Ask me nicely, and maybe…”

“Oh PUH-LEASE, Daddy? You know you own your good girl’s pussy. It’s only for you. My daddy owns me, and I am a good fuckable girl. Please fuck me, Daddy, please! I’ll be so good. No more bratty tantrums. I promise. I’ll be whatever you want me to be. Make me into anything you want. Your personal blowjob dispenser? Done. You want me to be a sexy geek girl goody two shoes like Katy? Or a milf like Bre?” Grace giggled coyly. “Of course, someone would have to fuck a baby into me for me to OOOOOOOOOOH, GAAAAAWWWWWWWDDD! Oh thank you Daddy! Thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou THANK YOU!”

Katy gasped as her sister’s pussy was filled with their daddy’s dick.

DON’T play with yourself! Ashley screamed at herself.

Or at least… try not to enjoy it too much.

My friend and I edged our pussies as we listened to Daddy positively destroy Grace’s tight, innocent teenage cunt. Where Bre had demanded a better fucking, her secondborn begged for it. Not for anything in particular. Just begging, because apparently begging was what good girls did. For more, for harder, to make her into something less than human, whatever slutty thing wandered into her mouth and dribbled out onto her feet.

Ashley’s fingers were still in her pussy when she fell asleep with the sound of her hostess yelling for her youngest daughter to not settle for being a good girl, but rather to be her hubbins’ best girl. She wasn’t sure if Bre shouted out her own orgasm right after, or if that was simply the start of another long night of depraved, whorish dreams. In them, Daddy was her daddy. No hesitations, no affectionate nickname. He was Daddy, same as to Grace and Katy. He made Ashley do things just by looking at her, same as them. He told her that she was one of his good girls and patted her ass and made a thousand hours of leg days worth the while.

Katy crawled under the sheets and started licking her pussy sometime in the night. Or maybe it was a dream? Either way, Ashley could pretend that’s what she had thought it was in the morning, so why not let it happen, right?

Right…?