Pets 2: Pani's Story (19 page)

Laughter bubbled up inside her, half shocked and maybe even a little panicked for how far this boldness was taking her. She needed distance between them, before she did something crazy. Like provoke him into taking her right there on the blanket amongst her scattered toys.

Scrambling to get off his lap, she got as far from him as the suddenly too small living room would allow. Raking her fingers through her hair, she turned in a full circle, unsure what had got into her to make her feel this way.

Papa watched her retreat, still relaxed, obviously still expecting her to continue the game, and so she threw out her hand, not even seeing what she touched. “What’s this?”

“Door,” he drawled.

What was she doing? She pressed her fists over her stomach where she could still feel the heat, the molten wanting to be intimately touched not just by anyone but by him. By Papa. To 84

feel his thick fingers pulling her little girl clothes away and touch her, between her legs where she right now ached to be filled by him.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t shown more than a passing interest in possessing her the way men were supposed to take women. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know she had a pussy; he touched her there every morning in the shower, fondling her clit until her legs weakened and barely supported her. Sometimes he touched her there at night too, as they lay in bed with Pani sprawled upon his chest, listening to the beating of his heart while his hand smoothed up and down her back, lightly playing along her spine, sometimes petting her braided hair and sometimes trailing all the way down into the crease of her buttocks until his fingertips skimmed her vaginal folds. And eventually she would fall asleep wet and aching, unfilled and unfulfilled, and with Papa right there so she couldn’t even let her own fingers take care of business.

“Lamp,” Papa said.

She hadn’t even realized she was still walking around the room, touching things. She had just enough presence of mind to want to continue the game, all the while wishing he didn’t have such an uncomfortable, overriding fascination with her bottom.

As if he could read her mind, Papa suddenly stood up. Pani came sharply back to herself underneath the dining room window, unsure of what she had done but recognizing that ‘game over’ look on his face. “Go get your stretch kit.” That delicious languid warmth in her belly cooled instantly. She recognized that command.

She hated that command. Over the past few weeks, she had come to know it through near-daily repetition, and just the thought of it made her bottom clench. Otherwise, she didn’t move.

He gave her a stern, ‘hop to it, young lady’ look, and gestured towards the stairs. He meant it. He was going to put those increasingly larger-sized let’s-pretend penises into her bottom, mock fucking her until he took her right to the edge of what she was capable of taking, but not in a way she would enjoy.

“Go.” She tried to shake her head ‘no’ but he simply pointed to the stairs again and then snapped his fingers. “Go on, Pani. Get your stretch kit.” She tapped her fingertips together, but there was truly no point in arguing. Cooperate or not, the end result would be the same: she was going to be tied over a padded horse while he used her. The only unanswered question left to her was, did she want to go through it willingly or did she want to go through it with teary eyes and a hot, throbbing bottom?

Her shoulders sagged. Head bowed, she trudged slowly upstairs to get the dreaded kit. She found the box in a tucked out of the way place on Papa’s side of the bed. It was heavier than it looked, and she carried it all the way back downstairs with both hands.

Papa had retired to his computer chair to wait for her, one ankle comfortably crossed over his knee, his upraised foot bobbing in tempo with his thoughts. Now and then he tapped one-handed at his computer screen, and she came to stand at his side, silently hoping against hope that he’d somehow gotten so busy in the last few minutes that he’d forgotten all about the kit in her arms.

It didn’t work. He took the kit from her arms and then gestured to the floor. Pani looked at her scattered toys, torn between knowing she had brought this on herself for being so cuddly and coy, and an equally strong urge to just throw a fit right here and now. If she was obnoxious enough, then yes, she’d probably get spanked for it, but she might also get sent to bed early too, 85

thereby completely avoiding the ordeal that lay ahead.

She fidgeted her fingers, twisting them in the hem of her dress as she warred with her sparse set of options. But in the end, she capitulated. Not because she wanted Papa to use the anal plugs on her, but because she really, really didn’t want another spanking.

“Pani.” Papa snapped his fingers and, arousal dying hard, she began to pick up her toys. She dragged out the process for as long as possible, all the while sniffling and driving herself relentless towards the edge of tears in the hopes he might notice and grant her some sort of pitying reprieve. Not that crying had ever worked before, but there was always a first time.

Papa grunted at her, waving one finger over her blanket and remaining toys in a distinctive

‘come on, hurry up’ gesture. She deliberately saved her doll for last, and when he got up to move her heavy toy chest out of the way, she made a grand production out of cuddling it.

Although aiming for ‘incredibly cute’, Pani was not above trying to look ‘utterly pitiful’ either.

But if Papa noticed at all, he wasn’t affected. He simply picked her blanket up off the floor, folded and handed it to her, and gestured for her to take it upstairs.

By the time she returned, still lugging her doll in her arms (she hadn’t given up on the possibility that some sort of cuteness factor might work), Papa had dragged out the padded horse he’d bought only last week.

“Papa,” she sniffled as he took the doll from her arms, but there was a ritual to this and by now she knew it very well. As far as furniture went, the horse was comparatively small to everything else in the house. It was made to fit her, and when bent over it and strapped into place, her bottom was elevated groin-high to Papa, leaving neither her head nor feet low enough to reach the floor.

She stared at the horse, hating the sight of it, already able to feel the padding beneath her hips and the confinement binding her waist and ankles as she edged close enough to unbuckle each strap and make them ready to hold her down.

Now she really was going to cry. Particularly when her sniffles failed to win the right response out of him. He simply turned her towards the hallway and gave her bottom a pat to start her on that long walk to the bathroom. She found the sleeve that he used to bind her arms behind her back and brought that out to him. He took it from her, patting her on the head, and then sent her right back down the hall for the rest.

Ugh. She knew what he wanted her to fetch, and there was no need to pretend reluctance now. The enema syringe and bucket were where he always kept them: in the cupboard beneath the sink. She opened the door and stood looking at them for a long time. Letting her head fall back on her shoulders, Pani bounced childishly up and down and indulged in a completely useless and petulant whine. Then she sighed, picked up both and brought them out into the living room for Papa.

“No,” she moaned.

He took them from her anyway, setting them on the corner of his desk before turning his attention to her. When he beckoned, she went, dragging her feet all the way. She finally got a response, but it wasn’t what she wanted. Her reluctance made him chuckle. He chucked one finger gently, affectionately even, under her chin, then stripped her clothes away, leaving her to stand naked between his knees.

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Placing his hand unabashedly between her legs, Papa stroked along the slit of her sex, gently coaxing the folds to part as he both sought and found the sensitive nub hidden therein. Her breath caught, her stomach tightened; both reactions being as impossible to stop as was the lazy circle of his fingertip as he caressed her. She tried to turn her face away, but he caught her chin between two fingers and gently forced her eyes back to his. Her hips twitched, her stomach tightened and Pani closed her eyes, dismayed at how easily he turned her body against her. Her lips parted in a grimace that was only half uncomfortable when he gave her pussy a light spank, once and then again, until she fixed her gaze back on him again.

“Good girl,” he soothed, his fingers finding her clit again. “Good girl.” Her knees buckled unsteadily as he stroked her, each back and forth pass along those hidden folds dipping into the moisture of her, spreading the slickness until his fingers slipped effortlessly over and around her flesh until she could barely stand. She caught his shoulders, fighting to keep her eyes open and locked on his because if she failed he slapped between her thighs, the spanks growing progressively harder until the sting his fingers left behind became indistinguishable from the pleasure he tickled from her clit.

“Good girl,” he said again when she lost herself to a groan, low and hoarse and defeated.

She clutched fistfuls of his shirt, struggling on unsteady legs to stay upright, the heat of his touch building and tightening beneath his hand, crawling up to consume her womb with delicious intensity.

Somehow he always knew when she got close, and today he wasn’t feeling obliged to carry her over that threshold. Already his fingers were wandering away, dipping back into the well of her body, stealing the moisture to rub it across her bottom’s rear passage. She tensed, clenching tight in an effort to keep him out. It was a laughable defense; they both knew she couldn’t prevent what he wanted, and in the end he merely patted the swell of her right nether cheek and then slipped her arms into the restraining sleeve, fastening it tight behind her back.

Helping Pani up onto the horse, he tightened the straps around her waist, spreading and fastening down her legs as wide apart as they would go. She was splayed, so open and vulnerable, unable to do more then flex when he stroked the backs of her legs. With a parting pat to her bottom, he left to prepare the enema syringe.

This was the worst part for Pani, more horrible and humiliating than the anal plugs, and yet Papa seemed to like it, touching and caressing all the places the horse forced her to expose to him while she struggled under the discomfort of cramping bowels. It was shocking how easily he managed to turn her traitor’s body against her. Even now, bent over and bared, the embarrassment of being forced to publicly expel in the bowl Papa held for her couldn’t stop that low humming thrill that shivered up between her thighs when he cleaned her up for the last time and his hand once more settled upon her mons, gently petting and stroking her.

He blindfolded and then gagged her. That was new and more than just a little unnerving.

Pani pulled helplessly at her bonds, but as familiar a routine as this had become these past few weeks, she knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

She jumped a little when his hand settled on her rump, alternating warm caresses with the softest scraping of his nails as he teased the spankable flesh of her thighs and buttocks. The sensation left her shivering, helpless to do more than squirm and clench as his slight touch raked 87

across her sex. He patted her once, then took his hand away.

Cocking her head, she listened to the scrape of a jar lid being removed and the soft clatter as it was set aside. A moment later, his touch returned as he smeared a lubricating gel first between her legs, liberally coating the folds of her sex before two fingers drifted up into the crevice between her buttocks. She squeaked when his clawed finger invaded the tightness there.

Chewing at her gag, she huffed and mewed as those twin digits stroked in and out, a slow pumping that thoroughly greased her back passage as deep as he could reach.

Pani closed her eyes behind her blindfold, her moaning protests not so protesting anymore. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but vaguely she could remember lying in bed next to a boyfriend, listening unconvinced while he tried to talk her into trying this very thing. Funny how she couldn’t seem to recall his face now, although she did recall the disastrous attempt that had left her swearing never to engage in anal sex again.

Of course, that was before Papa, who seemed to prefer it. Who didn’t ask but who took her like this anyway, and who never seemed satisfied until he’d wrung from her traitor’s body at least some small measure of enjoyment.

He advanced her through the ranks of plugs with rapid purpose, giving her bottom only a handful of thrusts from each before changing out the smaller for a slightly larger one. And at first, to her shame, she actually liked it. The thinnest of the set slid into her with slippery ease, curling her toes, the only part of her that she could move with any relative freedom. She breathed heavily through the warmth that unfurled inside her as he pumped it inside her. Three upgraded sizes later, that warmth was still there but tempered by wincing gasps as the new plug opened her uncomfortably wider.

“Good girl,” Papa said, fondling the rounded curves of her ass while his other hand thrust, driving her to accept the plug, forcing her to relax in order to better take it and, hopefully, hold on to that delicious heat. Every time she began to lose the fight, sinking beneath a rising swell of pain, shocks of hurt radiating out from the wrinkled bud of her anus, then Papa would let his other hand wander down between her thighs, his fingers deftly finding and stroking the sensual jewel hidden there until her body began to hum again.

“Good girl,” he soothed, patting her pussy in a far gentler version of the spankings she had grown accustomed to.

Her toes curled so tightly that she both heard and felt it when the knuckles cracked. All of them.

“Uh! Uh!” she threw back her head, the straps of the horse turning her frantic bucking and writing into little more than wiggles as she sought to ride upon his fingers. The plug in her bottom withdrew, the tip of the next size up taking its place, cool to the touch, hard and smooth, as thick as any human cock and not yet the largest size that he would use on her.