Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
I remember oh so clearly why I got morning after syndrome after a night with him.
I’m back in the surreal dimension now, where I really am schoolgirl Holly, and I want to be. I want my beautiful Daddy to make his girl pure again.
He takes the shower head down from the stand and aims the water straight at my pussy, making me flinch and gasp.
“Spread,” he says, and I pull my pussy lips apart all over again, the cold water a surprising relief to the burn of punishment. I moan as he takes a flannel down from a shower hook behind him. He soaks it in the flow of the shower. It’s going to be so fucking cold, and I know where he’s going to use it. I can feel it.
He’s on his knees now, still suited, and getting wet himself in the shower along with me, but that doesn’t bother him as he begins to scrub my cunt. He’s rough, and it’s freezing, and I moan, but I don’t stop him.
“Daddy’s going to clean Scott’s disgusting mess out of you now, sweetheart,” he says, and I nod.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“I’m going to scrub you out from the inside, and it might feel bad, but trust me, you need it.”
“I know, Daddy.”
He uses three fingers, wrapped up in the wet flannel, and it’s so fucking thick that I groan as he shoves it inside me. He twists his wet flannelled fingers in and out, nice and deep, and it’s freezing cold, but I love it.
“Please, Daddy,” I whimper. “Clean him out of me. I want him out of me.”
“I am, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
He pulls out and soaks the flannel in fresh water, and starts over again, circling his fingers as he clears out the cum, and I can’t help but move against him. I can’t stop myself circling my hips. I groan when he pulls out to do it all over again, and he’s an expert at the tease. Every time I get into the flow, he stops, until I’m a writhing mess with my teeth chattering from the cold. But my pussy needs him. I really need to come.
“I think you’re clean now,” he says, locking me in a stare.
“Please, Daddy, no. Please. He’s still inside me. It’s still dirty!”
“Daddy’s going to have to clean you harder then, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you.”
He wraps an extra finger up in the flannel this time. Four of them. And I’m so ready and so fucking desperate, that I spread myself as wide as I can, the water still cascading all over me.
Daddy’s fingers stretch me so divinely that I collapse onto my back, not giving a shit for the fact that my long, dark pigtails are swimming in the pooled water by the plug hole. I buck against him as he sprays me, gasping and moaning as I reach my peak.
“It feels nice to be clean, doesn’t it?” he asks me, and I moan louder. I love what he’s doing to me. I absolutely fucking love it. “Daddy will always keep you clean, sweetheart. And if you’re a good girl, Daddy will always make it feel good.”
He puts the shower head closer to my pussy so the jet lands right on my clit, still pumping his fingers in and out, and I’m done for. I cry out with a Daddy! And then I come, hard. Really fucking hard as my gorgeous daddy cleans his girl out.
I’m still bucking and panting when he shunts me back against the wall and moves his flannelled fingers to my ass. I don’t complain and don’t fight when he lines them up, all four of them ready for my ass, just like they were for my pussy. It’s going to hurt like fuck, being stretched so wide and so cold, but I’m smiling through my chattering teeth.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Good girl, Holly. Good girl.”
He has to force his thick fingers in me, but I don’t fucking care. I call his name, and give myself up to him, because he’s the one in charge here. He’s the one who knows how to make me a good, clean girl again.
“That’s Daddy’s girl,” he says, with his fingers buried deep, and I love being Daddy’s girl. I love how he cleans my asshole with a cold, wet flannel, plunged inside.
“One hole left,” he says when he finally pulls his fingers free, and I don’t know what he’s talking about until he tells me to get on my knees. I do as I’m told and one of my tits escapes from my soaked shirt, my nipple so fiercely hard. My hand goes to it on autopilot, desperate for more. But he slaps my hand away, then stands up to tower over me.
He’s still holding the shower head as he takes my chin and tips my face up. I’m grateful when he turns the temperature up, my shivering body relieved at the warmth.