Chapter 1: First Meetings

I was sixteen when my father started dating her. My mom had died years back, and I know that Dad had been seeing people for a while, but she was the first that I met, evidently only after they had been dating for almost a year.

The first time I saw her was some random Saturday.

“Oh, good morning!” The tall woman greeted me, turning from the stove, where she was frying some eggs. She seemed only slightly embarrased by her nudity. “You must be Jonathon. I’m Catherine.”

“I, ah, prefer Carter,” I mumbled, trying not to stare too much at her spectacular chest. Carter was my middle name, a link to my late mother, who had wanted me named after her own father.

“Of course, Carter, I’m sorry.” She deftly slipped the eggs onto plates already loaded with bacon and potatoes and handing me one. “Your father told me, but I forgot. That won’t happen again. I hope that soft yolks are acceptable, M-Carter.”

“They look great,” I said, still not really looking at the eggs.

“Enjoy your breakfast, Carter,” she said, taking the remaining two plates and turning to go upstairs. The view from the back was just as lovely, her long, straight brown hair flowing down to the dimples at the small of her back, just above her well-toned ass and ridiculously long legs.

I sat at the kitchen island and ate absent-mindedly, ignoring the perfectly cooked food, thinking about her body and wondering if I would get a chance to see it again. As it turned out, when or maybe how often would have been better questions.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you,” Dad said, leaning up from his lounge chair to poke at one of the steaks on the grill. “I had far too much to drink, and she was sober enough to drive. I had intended to talk to you before bringing someone home. You okay with everything?”

“I guess so,” I said, leaning back into my own chair to bask in the sun and sipping from my beer. “I mean, I knew you were dating and all. It was just surprising.

“She seems ... nice.”

Dad laughed.

“She was naked, wasn’t she? I told her to wear a robe.” I didn’t respond. “Those tits are something else, eh?”

I choked on my beer.

“Well, I’m glad you liked them. I mean her.”

“You should know that we’re getting serious, Carter.”

I wasn’t exactly surprised. I had seen her a couple of times over the past few months, though not as much of her as that first time. I dunked a couple of fries in gravy and skewered a cheese curd on my fork.

“That’s good,” I said, taking the bite. It was much better than the greasy spoon atmosphere would have led anyone to believe, and our favorite place for poutine or burgers.

“It doesn’t mean anything has to change for you if you don’t want it to,” Dad said, his expression happy. “You’re going to university next year, and I don’t see any reason to push things faster than that.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” I assured him. “You’ve got to live your life, too.”

“So your birthday is next weekend, Carter,” Dad said, as the bikini-clad waitress set plates in front of each of us.

“Seventeen!” Catherine smiled at me. She took a deep breath, her magnificent cleavage straining against her beige cocktail dress. “You know, Jaime, my oldest daughter, is turning seventeen in a few weeks, too.”

I hadn’t met either of her daughters, despite my father dating her for almost a year by now.

“I think you’d like her,” Dad said. “Both of the girls, actually. And, well, we want you to meet them this weekend.”

“Oh?” I wasn’t opposed to meeting them, I just hadn’t thought about it.

“Tomorrow afternoon. Saturdays are ... special, in the Marks’ home. It would be an unconventional first meeting, but I think it’s important to get off on the right foot; make the right first impression.” Dad, always taciturn, seemed more hesitant than usual.

“Well, we’re not going to keep it a secret, if you really want to know,” Catherine said, smiling coyly, “but I think you’d enjoy the surprise so much more. Let’s just say that Saturday is always a lot of fun, if one hasn’t been naughty.”

It turned out that Catherine and her daughters lived quite near our house. Around the corner from the gated entance to our community, a gravel drive led to a trailer park.

“Keep an open mind, okay, Carter?”

I nodded, as Dad pulled up in front of the last trailer in the lot, a single wide unit with the blinds closed.

To the left as I got out of the car, I could see a few of the houses in our neighborhood; from the back, they were a bit harder to recognize, but I was pretty sure that our house must have been very close, though through a thickly wooded lot.

“You can’t see it,” Dad commented, guessing what I was thinking. He pointed just to the right of the last visible house. “It would be about a five minute walk. There are two fences in the way, though.”

Catherine opened the door wearing a short white sundress that displayed her lovely cleavage to great effect.

“I’m so glad you came, Carter,” she exlcaimed, bouncing over to me, her platform sandals crunching in the gravel. She embraced me in a welcoming hug, pressing her tits against my chest and giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

“Good evening, Master,” she greeted my father, turning more demurely toward him. “Everything is prepared, and the girls are ready.”

Dad simply nodded, and we followed Catherine into the mobile home.

The furnishings were sparse; the tiny kitchenette directly in front of the door opened directly on to the living room on the right. There were only two chairs in front of the TV, though they were very nice, deeply padded armchairs. Between them, a video camera was mounted on a waist-height tripod. Against one wall sat two ottomans that matched the chairs.

Catherine invited us to sit, and brought us beers from her fridge--rich, malty, local beers; one of my father’s favorites.

“Girls!” My father called.

On cue, Catherine’s daughters came out to join us.

“Carter, this is Jaime,” Catherine introduced, gesturing first to the taller of the two, “and Jessica. Girls, this is my son Carter.”

Jaime, in jean shorts and a white tank top that revealed her midriff, was well on her way to matching her mother in the bust department. Her brown hair was subtly highlighted with blonde, and, also like her mother, nearly reached her waistline. She flashed a tentative smile as her mother introduced her, then stood with her hands at the small of her back and feet slightly apart. I thought for a moment that she also pulled her shoulders back, seemingly presenting her breasts.

Jessica showed slightly less resemblance to her mother. Her hair was a similar color, though it shimmered with a deep auburn radiance. She wore skin tight blue jeans and a loosely knit cream colored sweater that hinted at her shape as she fidgeted. Her half smile, less fleeting than her sister’s, hinted at her nervousness.

“Good evening, girls,” my father said perfunctorily, turning to the video camera between us and starting it. “Jaime, you may begin. Smile, please.”

“My name is Jaime Marks,” the girl said, looking straight into the camera with a rehearsed air and a forced smile that showed her white upper teeth. “I’m sixteen years old and I’ve been very naughty this week, and this is the record of my punishment on June sixth, 2015.”

She crossed her arms in front of herself and slowly lifted her top, revealing a lacy coral-colored bra that was clearly straining to hold up her full breasts, sheer enough to display her wide aereaola.

She tossed her shirt to the side and took a deep breath, emphasizing her chest.

“I smoked two cigarettes this week. I left the house three times without permission to meet with a boy.” As she recited her crimes, a pained smile on her face, she lowered her hands to her waist and unfastened her shorts, revealing a white thong. “I sassed my mother twice and I made my sister do my chores for me on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday.”

She pushed her shorts down past her hips, and they fell to the floor.

“I got detention in school once this week and got a D on my algebra quiz.”

She kicked the jean shorts to the wall to join her top.

“I stayed out past curfew once.”

She clasped her hands at the small of her back again. My father coughed.

“I...” her voice grew quiet. “I mas...”

Another cough.

“I masterbated twice.”

“By my count,” my father said calmly, “that is seventy points, plus fourty for masturbating.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said. My head was spinning, and not because she called my father ‘Daddy.’

“Jessie,” he said, unfazed.

“My name is Jessica Marks,” the red-head stated, almost defiantly, lifting her sweater as she spoke. “I am fifteen years old, and I’ve done nothing wrong.”

She wore no bra, and clearly needed none, as her pert breasts stood firmly out from her chest, her little pink nipples hard and prominent. She unfastened her pants, pulling them roughly open to reveal a white panel of lace.

“I masturbated eight times this week.” her words were a brash statement instead of a confession, as she peeled down her pants to reveal underwear that would have been modest by the cut, but instead were as sexy as her sister’s; a thick lace covered the front, but the rest was perfectly sheer, hiding nothing of her tight, round ass as she turned to push her jeans to the floor.

“That makes a hundred and sixty points this week, Jessica,” my father said. Their mother, who was standing behind us, gasped. “‘Done nothing wrong’ is hardly accurate, even with no other infractions.”

“You can’t stop me from masturbating, Daddy,” she snapped.

Clearly, he couldn’t.

“I will deduct fifteen points for the extra chores that your sister made you do.”

It seemed meaningless--160 to 145, but this whole thing was already so bizzarre.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said, with a smile. She seemed entirely sincere, standing in only her panties, next to her lingerie-clad sister.

“Thank you, Master,” Catherine echoed softly.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “You will not get off so lightly next week if this behavior continues. Nevertheless, I will also be deducting sixty points from each of your punishments as incentive for your performance later tonight.”

Despite the fact that this was a much larger reduction than the other, Jessica seemed unimpressed. Jaime however, was thrilled; maybe because it was more than half of her points? That left her with 50 and Jessica with 85.

“Thank you so much, Daddy!” She smiled widely. “I’ll do anything you want!”

“We’ll get to that,” Dad said. “But first, you still have fifty points to take care of. I think we’ll do twenty, twenty, and ten. Bra off first.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said demurely. She raised her hands from their resting position at the small of her back, and unfastened her bra. The band snapped forwards, letting her breasts settle; they seemed to grow a bit, though her cleaved softened as they moved forward and down.

She shrugged and the bra moved forwards and the straps slid down her arms. Her nipples, now revealed properly, were much larger than her sister’s, or even, from what I remembered, her mother’s; the size of pencil erasers, they sat on wide, puffy aereola almost the color of chocolate milk.

Slowly, she moved forward, and my father reached over to adjust the camera as she approached.

Her ass toward me (and the camera), she bent over the arm of my father’s chair, across his lap. She didn’t exactly lay down, as her legs remained straight, but her breasts were on the far side of his leg and her ribs rested on his thigh. Her hair fell down to brush the beige carpet.

Dad tapped her thigh, and she shuffled her feet apart. The view from my chair was spectacular, with her tiny white panties narrowing to a tiny string between her full, curved cheeks, where I could see hints of her dark, crinkled asshole. There was a tiny damp spot a little further down, where the thin cloth tightly cupped her sex, outlining the curves of her lips.

He slid a hand up from her knee, along the inside of her thigh, until his fingers touched her panties. He gently rubbed the cloth, then gave her a firm spank.

“One,” she gasped.

“No,” he said, giving her another, sharper swat. “You know perfectly well that warm-ups do not count. You begin counting when I instruct you to.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said.

He grunted non-commitally, and began spanking her. Not too hard, or fast, but all over her nearly bare bottom and the tops of her thighs.

“Catherine, the ruler, please,” he said, stopping. He had probably given her twenty by now, and her upturned rear was light red all over. “Carter, would you take her panties down?”

I jumped a little, surprised by the invitation.

“Go ahead, son,” he said. “You’ll enjoy this, I think.”

Well, he was certainly right about that. I stood and moved closer to her, as her mother approached with a twelve inch wooden ruler; it struck me how normal the school item seemed in this bizarre situation.

Instinctively trying to stay mostly out of camera frame, I slipped my fingers under Jaime’s waistband, and pulled her small undergarment down, watching the white band stretch and slide over her luscious, reddened ass. The string clung between her cheeks for a moment, then released as I continued, revealing her asshole to the camera. It seemed to wink as she tensed up at the stripping of her last modesty.

As the panties reached her knees and began to stretch between them, Dad motioned me to sit again. From the lower angle of my chair, I had a great view of her pussy, bare between her thighs. He repeated his earlier motion, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh from her knee to her sex, his fingers touching her pussy directly this time. He nestled a finger between her plump lips and wiggled it a bit.

“Nice and wet, Jaime,” he observed, then accepted the ruler from her mother. “Now we will begin. You may count for me.”

The crack of the ruler sounded much sharper and harsher than his hand had, causing her to jump and cry out a bit.

“Ah! One!”

The next spank was harder, judging by the sound and her reaction.

“Two!

“Three!

“Four!”

She began crying now, the sobs interfering a bit with her counting.

“F-five!

“Si-i-ix!”

I could hear the ruler swishing as he swang the next few spanks, and Jaime wailed at each stroke.

“Owowseveveven!

“Ah! Ei-eight!

“Gah! Nine!”

The tenth was loud enough that my ears were almost ringing, and Jaime keened for a long moment before gasping out “ten!”

“Good girl,” Dad said, calmly, as she sobbed on his lap. “Carter, would you like to apply the next ten?”

My stomach seemed to jump at the question.

“Absolutely,” I said excitedly, leaping at the opportunity.

Dad instructed Jaime to stand in front of me, and removed the camera from the tripod, pointing it at the still-crying sixteen-year-old, as she shuffled towards me with her legs still spread, keeping her panties at her knees.

Her full, round breasts heaved with her subsiding sobs, and I got my first chance to see her pretty little pussy from the front, which was completely bare. My father directed her across my lap the same way she had been over his, and as she took her position, her waist brushed against my crotch. I realized that I had a raging erection growing against my leg.

“Feel free to touch her,” Catherine said from the kitchen. “She’s a beautiful girl, isn’t she? The humiliation will help teach her a lesson.”

I took her mother up on the offer, and began exporing the soft, curvy body laid so submissively on my lap for her punishment. I slid my left hand across her bare back to grab a firm butt cheek, and placed my right just inside her left knee. Repeating my father’s actions, I caressed the inside of her thigh, slowly moving up to her bare pussy as he filmed. As my fingers touched her lips, I could immediately feel her wetness, and slid a finger into the warm folds. She moaned quietly.

“Look at Carter and ask him to punish you,” Dad said from over my left shoulder.

“Please, sir,” she said quietly, at my father’s prompting, looking into my eyes with resigned eyes and a half smile. “Spank my bare bottom.”

My father handed me the ruler, and I placed it gently on her upturned ass. Moving my hand out of the way, I reached under her and grabbed her tit. It more than filled my hand as I squeezed firmly.

“Look at the camera and count as he punishes you,” her mother instructed.

“Eleven,” she counted as I landed a tentative swat--the first spank I had ever given--on her beautiful, reddened ass.

My cock jumped, apparently trying to escape my suddenly confining pants. It was uncomfortable, almost painful, as it stretched, trapped along my leg. Relinquishing my hold on her breast, I grabbed her hip and pulled her against me, rubbing my erection against her hip in an attempt to reposition it.

In a slightly better position, I swung again, harder this time. I was rewarded by Jaime bucking against my crotch.

“Twelve,” she gasped.

My third swat was aimed lower. The ruler struck the crease between the tops of her thighs and ber bottom, and she jerked forward, rubbing against the top of my erection.

“Thiiirteeeeen,” she cried, a wail mixed into her count.

“Nice work, son,” Dad said, approvingly.

“Harder, Carter,” Catherine cheered me on.

Encouraged, I moved my hand from her waist to her bottom, stretched wide to grab both cheeks, and pulled upwards, stretching her skin taut.

I swung harder than before, landing this blow just above the last, on the very bottom of the curve of her ass.

“Fourteen,” she yelped.

I moved my hand to the small of her back and pressed down, pushing her abs against my cock, attempting to relieve a bit of the pressure I was feeling. I applied the next three strokes in quick succession, enjoying her body bucking against my crotch, taking pleasure in hurting her.

“Six-seve-eighteen,” she squealed.

“You skipped a count, Jaime,” my father said.

“That’s five extra at the end,” her mother exclaimed happily.

I applied the last three with extra vigor, moving upward with each stroke, until the last was barely on her bottom at all, striking her tailbone.

“Eight-ninet-twenty,” she screamed, trying to keep up with my rapid strokes.

“Up you go,” Dad ordered, returning the camera to the tripod as she got to her feet, her panties still around her knees.

She was crying harder than before, her magnificent chest heaving with her sobs, but all I could think of was hiding my boner, or maybe trying to excuse myself to move it to a more comfortable position. As I leaned forward to get up, Catherine somehow appeared behind me, placing a gently restraining hand on my chest.

“That looks uncomfortable,” she whispered in my ear, sliding her hand down to my waist.

Her hand entering my pants and firmly grasping my shaft was no more shocking than anything else that had happened this evening, so I let it happen; she gave me a firm squeeze and flipped my erection upwards to rest between my waistband and belly.

“He really is enjoying this, dear,” she proclaimed, though I’m not sure whether she was speaking to my dad or the daughter that I had been abusing. “But since we’re taking away his very ... stimulating ... playmate, even if it is only temporary, I think we’d better replace her. Jessie, sweetheart, why don’t you come sit in Carter’s lap.”

Meekly, Jessica moved forward. I smiled at her, and she returned the expression, if less enthusiastic than mine. She turned away from me, and I checked out her pert, high bottom, which the transparent material of her underwear showed to great effect, revealing even more than her sister’s thong had.

“Panties off,” Dad interjected as she began lowering herself onto my lap.

“Of course,” Catherine agreed. “We can’t substitute a clothed girl for a naked one.”

The teenager paused, her bottom pushed out, and I reached up to help relieve her of said panties. I quickly pulled them down and she stepped out of them, then bent down to grab them and tossed them onto the pile of clothes by the wall.

I reached up again, placing my hands on her hips to guide her down on to my lap, seating her on my left thigh, her knees between mine, with the side of her bottom, much firmer and more petite than her sister’s, pressed firmly against my (much more comfortably positioned) erection.

“Feel free to play with her, as well,” Catherine suggested. “But she’s not a total slut like her sister, so be careful; we’re saving her virginity.”

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, I immediately took her mother up on her offer, reaching around her with my left hand to cup her pert breast. I placed my right hand on her hip, sliding it quickly down into her crotch. I was a bit surprised to find that she had a soft, downy thatch of pubic hair (I am, or course, perfectly aware that pubic hair is the natural state of a girl of her age, it’s just I had not seen her mound uncovered and that her sister was bare--her mother, too, if I remembered right). She spread her legs as my hand slid down, and I looked down to see that the sparse hair was a slightly paler red than her auburn locks.

“She hates it when you pinch her,” my father suggested helpfully, reaching down and giving her free nipple a quick tweak before stepping forward toward her older sister, who had, by now, stopped crying.

I gave her breast a gentle squeeze, then gave her the prescribed pinch with my other hand, cruelly tweaking her clit hood to elicit a pained, if muted, squeak.

“It’s a shame you had to try to cheat the number of your spanks, Jaime,” my father said, approaching her. “I was going easy on you. Now, though...”

He walked past her to the kitchen counter, which now held an array of paddles, crops, and canes. I hadn’t seen them when we arrived, so I assumed that Catherine had laid them out while I was distracted with Jaime. He selected a thin, black rod, no more than an eighth of an inch thick and about two feet long, and swished it through the air menacingly.

“Twenty done, and now we’ll do twenty to your tits, ten pussy, and then we’ll decide the five extra.” Jaime whimpered, as Dad touched the tip of the rod to her nipple. “Will you be a good girl and keep it down to just five?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Jaime assured him, an edge of desperation in her voice.

“Good girl,” he said, skeptically. “Hands behind your head, and shoulders back. Catherine, please take a flogger; I think we’ll take turns on her tits.”

With a wide smile, my father’s girlfriend picked up a cruel looking whip that was essentially a bundle of leather thongs, and gave it a practice swing.

“No need to count, Jaime,” Dad assured her. “I’ll keep track.”

Jaime, oddly, did not look reassured by this, as she pulled her shoulders back, thrusting her lovely chest toward the camera, and, by default, me.

Dad laid his rod gently at the base of Jaime’s tits, bouncing them slightly with the cruel implement, though it flexed too much to really move the weighty globes. Until he swung it properly.

Swishing upwards nearly from the floor, the black rod smacked loudly into the sensitive undersides of Jaime’s breasts, digging deeply into them and bouncing them upwards. Jaime gritted her teeth, muting a beautiful scream that made my erection throb against her sister’s thigh.

Her mother, quickly stepping forward, followed up the blow with a quick downward stroke to each of her breasts, dozens of little leather strips raining down on her tits with each of the two swings.

As Jaime began crying in earnest, our parents repeated their actions: a single sharp blow to both tits simultaneously from underneath, then a downward stroke from a multitude of vectors as the flogger slapped first one, then the other gravity-defying teen breast.

Dad’s third strike to her tits was a bit further up the underside, and I realized that he was slowly moving towards her nipples. Catherine’s strokes begain to vary, as well; the tips of the flogger had been striking her daughter well above her ample breasts, and she now began pulling back with each stroke so that the brunt of the blow drew closer and closer to Jaime’s large, stiff nipples.

The fourth round had Jaime practically hysterical, clearly stuggling to hold position with her elbows back and her chest out. The tops of her breasts had turned a fairly uniform cherry red, and the undersides were decorated with lovely red stripes.

When my father struck the undersides of her fat tits for the sixth time, she screamed and bent forwards, cupping her abused mounds.

“I try to show a bit of mercy, and this is how you act?” Dad seemed genuinely hurt and angry over her reflexive action. “That will be five more, later. I’ll let you use the broomstick, but this is your last chance, Jaime. Defy me again, and it’ll be the cattle prod.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she blurted out between sobs. “I’ll be good, I swear!”

Her mother handed her a wooden dowel a bit over a yard long, and she placed it behind her neck, as she resumed her position, her elbows now held back by the thick rod.

“This is sixteen again,” he said, tapping his cane against her breasts, just below her nipples.

Jaime gritted her teeth and nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Dad struck her again, the hardest blow yet, burying the cane deep in the soft, tender flesh, just on the edge of her wide aereola. Jaime screamed through her teeth, panting, her chest heaving with deep, gasping, but silent sobs. Her mother, showing no mercy at all, immediately stepped in to follow the established pattern, striking the tips of her breasts with the stinging flogger.

“Two more for the breasts,” Dad said, reaching his hand out to take the whip from Catherine.

She relinquished the flogger with clear reluctance, and Dad began swinging it in a tight, fast circle, the leather thongs swinging towards her with each upstroke. Masterfully, he began teasing Jaime with it, letting the tips brush against her stomach, then her groin, then her nipples; despite the flogger’s clear speed and momentum, it clearly caused her no pain as the leather grazed her on each upstroke, but she was tense in anticipation and fear.

The anticipation seemed to last ages, though it couldn’t have been more than half a minute, before he finally landed two consecutive blows, one to the already-striped underside of each of her luscious breasts.

Jaime wailed in pain as the leather strips criss-crossed the bright red welts on the bottoms of her breasts, and both my father and her mother grinned in satisfaction.

“That’s twenty,” Dad said, and as if a spell had been broken, I began breathing. I hadn’t even realized I had been holding my breath, but the effect was widespread, as the teenager in my lap also gasped.

I realized that I had been neglecting her, and made up for it by giving her breast, which was still cupped in my left hand, a rough squeeze. With my other hand, I resumed my exploration of her allegedly virginal mound, slipping two fingers between the lips of her pussy.

It wasn’t nearly as wet as her sister’s had been when I had spanked her, but there was enough lubrication that I easily slipped between the lips of her sex. Her hands caught my wrist as I began probing.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m...”

She didn’t finish her thought, instead gasping as my fingers met a resisting membrane. It didn’t exactly block the hot, wet passage, as there was room for me to slip a single finger past it, but I knew immediately that she was a true virgin.

“Get rid of those silly panties,” my father ordered Jaime; her white thong was still stretched across her knees.

She kicked it over to the pile of clothing, and I wondered idly if maybe her mother’s clothes might join it, since the daughters finally had nothing more to remove.

“Now spread your legs.” Her mother seemed positively gleeful as she commanded her oldest daughter to make herself even more vulnerable for us.

My father traded in the flogger for a short leather strap, the end split. He flexed it, and I realized that it was much thicker and stiffer than I had expected it to be.

“Catherine, the tawse is drier than it should be,” he said, dissapprovingly. “It needs to be oiled every week. Have you been remiss in your duties?”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” she said, fear and contrition clear in her tone. “I’ll make sure that it’s in proper condition next week.”

“See that you do,” he said absently, tapping it against Jaime’s bare pussy from behind. “Or next week you’ll be joining the girls. Perhaps Carter would like to discipline you.”

I perked up at that, and the expression on her face was hard to read; fear, certainly, but also resignation, and maybe eagerness?

The teenager on my lap distracted me from that line of thought, though, as she squeaked at my continued invasion of her intimate bits.

I backed my finger off a bit, but just to show her that I was still in charge, I leaned forward a little and sharply bit her tiny, pink nipple.