Chapter 23 #2
“No, Daddy,” I lied, my cheeks heating.
Another ten minutes passed. The pressure built steadily, becoming uncomfortable, then urgent. I pressed my thighs together—as much as the diaper would allow—and tried to concentrate on the screen in front of me.
“Daddy?” I said finally, my voice small. “I… I need to use the bathroom.”
“No,” Daddy Ed said without looking up from his work. “Keep coding.”
I felt panic flutter in my chest. “But Daddy, I really—”
“We said no,” Daddy Bill cut me off. “You’ll hold it until we give you permission.”
My hands trembled as I turned back to my monitor. I typed a few more lines, but the urgency was overwhelming now, demanding all my attention. I squirmed again, my bladder aching with fullness.
“Daddy, please,” I begged, tears forming in my eyes. “Please, I can’t hold it much longer.”
Daddy Ed pushed back from his desk and stood. “Come with us.”
They led me down the hallway to a bathroom—large and modern with gleaming tile. The toilet sat there, pristine and inviting, but when I moved toward it, Daddy Bill’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.
“Stand right here,” he instructed, positioning me directly in front of the toilet. “Look at it.”
I stared at the toilet, my bladder screaming for release, my whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Now,” Daddy Ed said quietly. “You’re going to use your diaper like the bad girl you are.”
Distress washed over me. “No… Daddy, please, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Daddy Bill said firmly. “And you will. Right now. While you look at the toilet you’re not allowed to use.”
I stood there frozen, my face burning with humiliation. Everything in me rebelled against what they were asking. But my bladder was so full, the pressure so intense, and my body was starting to make the decision for me.
“Please,” I whispered one last time.
“Now, Little Pamela,” Daddy Ed commanded. Then, to my horror, he reached his hand down and put it on the seat of my diaper. He gave a gentle squeeze.
With a cry of mortification, I let go. The relief was immediate and overwhelming as warmth spread through the diaper. I sobbed as I stood there wetting myself like a toddler, staring at the toilet I wasn’t allowed to use, feeling the diaper grow heavy and warm between my legs.
When I was finally empty, I stood there shaking, tears streaming down my face. The shame was complete and total, burning hotter than my punished bottom.
“Good girl,” Daddy Bill murmured, and somehow that made it worse. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.”
Daddy Ed unfastened the tabs of the soaked diaper and let it drop to the floor. I stood there naked from the waist down, my dress still bunched around my middle, feeling utterly degraded.
“Shower,” Daddy Ed said, gesturing toward the enormous glass enclosure that took up half the bathroom.
Daddy Bill lifted the dress over my head.
I caught a lewd glimpse of myself in the mirror, naked except for my frilled socks and Mary Janes.
Daddy Bill lifted me in the air as if I weighed no more than a feather, and Daddy Ed took the shoes and socks off my dangling feet.
I stepped inside the shower as they turned on multiple spray heads.
Warm water cascaded over me from all directions, washing away the evidence of my shame.
My daddies stripped off their own clothes and joined me in the spacious shower.
As always, the sight of their huge penises, rising in response to their desire to fuck their bad girl, made me feel dizzy.
“Wash yourself,” Daddy Bill instructed, handing me a bar of soap.
I lathered my hands and ran them over my body, cleaning between my legs where the diaper had been, washing away every trace of my pee. My bottom still throbbed from the whipping, the warm water making the welts sting anew.
“Now wash us,” Daddy Ed said when I’d finished.
I took the soap and moved to Daddy Bill first. My hands trembled as I worked the lather over his broad chest, down his muscular arms, across his flat stomach. When I reached his cock, already very hard, I felt my breath catch.
“Pay special attention there,” he instructed.
I soaped his shaft carefully, feeling it grow fully erect under my touch.
Then I moved lower, washing his heavy balls, working the lather between his legs until I reached his anus.
My face burned as I cleaned there too, my fingers gentle and thorough.
A little grunt of pleasure from deep in my brown-eyed daddy’s chest made my stomach lurch.
I repeated the process with Daddy Ed, washing every inch of him with the same careful attention. By the time I finished, both of them were fully hard, their cocks jutting toward me.
Daddy Bill pressed me against the tile wall, the spray hitting his shoulders and flowing down onto my breasts. His hands gripped my hips as he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist automatically. I felt the head of his cock press against the entrance to my desperate sheath.
“Please,” I gasped. “Oh, please, Daddy.”
He thrust inside and I cried out at the sudden fullness. My pussy clenched around him, welcoming the invasion despite everything. He fucked me against the wall, the water streaming over both of us, each thrust pressing my punished bottom against the slippery tile.
He pulled out, lowering me to my feet but not letting go until Daddy Ed took his place.
My blue-eyed daddy hoisted me even higher on the wall, then lowered me onto his longer cock.
As always, I couldn’t help reveling in the subtle differences; Daddy Ed’s faster rhythm and deeper thrusts that made me gasp every time his hardness surged into me, the head going all the way to my cervix.
My arms wrapped around his neck as he used me, my body nothing but a vessel for Daddy’s pleasure.
They passed me between them, taking turns fucking my pussy in the shower until I lost track of who was inside me. The pleasure built despite my exhaustion, despite the lingering shame of wetting my diaper. My body responded to them the way it always did—eagerly, desperately, completely.
“Turn around,” Daddy Ed commanded finally.
I faced the wall, my hands bracing against the tile. I felt lubricant being applied—they must have had a bottle in the shower—and then Daddy Ed’s cock pressed against my anus.
“Still sore?” he asked, but he was already pushing inside.
I cried out as he impaled me, the stretch intense after my bottom’s punishment. But he didn’t stop, just kept pushing until he was fully seated inside my ass. Then he began to move, fucking me with steady, deliberate thrusts that made me sob with the overwhelming mix of pleasure and pain.
Daddy Ed drew me back, bending at the waist and putting his hands down to take hold of the backs of my knees. I whimpered as he lifted me like that, spreading me open for Daddy Bill to see his fellow daddy’s cock deep in their bad girl’s bottom, my bare pussy swollen and neglected.
To see and, I understood with a lurch of my stomach, to fuck.
“I can’t resist that sweet little cunt,” my brown-eyed daddy, gorgeous with the water running down his hairy chest, said. I bit my lip as my eyes went to his huge cock, jutting proudly from his lap even after fucking me so hard.
“Why wait?” Daddy Ed asked, lifting me an inch off his own rigid penis, then lowering me so that I moaned with mingled need and discomfort.
Daddy Bill stepped forward, the head of his manhood at the opening of my vagina.
I cried out as he thrust inside, wrapping my legs around his back.
They started to fuck me together, as I sobbed helplessly at their practiced rhythm—one thrusting in as the other pulled back—until I felt like a terribly, terribly bad girl…
the kind daddies use front and back, just as they please.
I felt an orgasm building despite everything, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until finally it crashed over me. I screamed, my body convulsing between them.
“Good girl,” Daddy Ed grunted, his pace increasing. “Come on our cocks like the little slut you are.”
They both finished inside me within moments of each other—Daddy Ed pulsing in my ass, Daddy Bill flooding my pussy. I felt like a place for my daddies to put their penises, a naughty girl who would take everything they gave me.
When they finally withdrew, I almost collapsed, my legs unable to support me. Daddy Bill caught me, holding me up while Daddy Ed turned off the water.
They dried me carefully, wrapping me in a fluffy towel. My mind felt fuzzy and distant, floating somewhere far from my exhausted body.
“Better?” Daddy Bill asked softly.
I nodded against his chest. The restlessness was gone, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction. My bottom still ached, my pussy and ass felt thoroughly used, but somehow I felt more settled than I had all week.
“That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?” Daddy Ed said, brushing damp hair back from my face. “Not just the discipline, but all of it. To be reminded that you’re ours completely.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, my voice sounding to me high and far away. I felt, as strange as it seemed, like a good little girl who had learned how to be bad. Or a bad girl who had learned how to be good. I couldn’t figure it out—and I didn’t want to. “Yes, Daddies,” I whispered.
The End