Babygirl – Pt. 01

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This is a story about Chelsea. Chelsea is in a 24/7 lifestyle relationship with her partners, Danielle and Jim, who she calls Mommy and Daddy. Mommy and Daddy are always in control of certain things – like Chelsea’s orgasms, for example – but sometimes they decide they need to take even more control…Sensitive content warning, 10k words.

Content Warnings/Tags: ageplay with a faux-incest flavor (Daddy Dom/little girl, Mommy Dom/little girl); use of misogynist and slut-shaming language for the purpose of humiliation in kink scenes; corporal punishment (spanking). Also, this one has a lot more desperation/bladder control/piss play than usual for my work. Cheers to all the piss fans out there.

Chelsea woke to the sensation of a cock sliding into her ass.

“Uh–Daddy,” she whimpered, squirming mindlessly under the assault of sensation: the hard, hot pressure of his cock forcing its way into her; a protesting twinge from her bladder as Daddy’s weight pressed her into the bed; a too-sharp surge of pleasure as he tugged the crotch of her panties to the side and pulled the fabric tight against her clit.

She had prepared her anus before bed, of course. That was one of her most important rules, and she never forgot it–but Daddy had never come to visit her last night. She had waited, and waited, her ass wet and open for Daddy, her pussy trembling from the tease of preparing herself…and had eventually fallen asleep to the sounds of Daddy fucking Mommy in the master bedroom, both of them loudly announcing their pleasure.

That must have been hours ago. With Daddy on top of her, Chelsea couldn’t lift herself up to look at her Hello Kitty clock, but the room was just light enough that the sun must be starting to come up. It was morning. Her anus had tightened back up again, and the lube had dried to a sticky, itchy mess. Daddy must have put fresh lube on his cock, she realized muzzily, because otherwise it would hurt a lot more, but even as it was, the discomfort made her whine.

“Shhh, babygirl,” Daddy murmured in her ear. The deep rumble of his voice made her shiver, arousal quickly winning out over the rude discomfort of being fucked awake. “It’s still early, you can go back to sleep. Daddy just needs a quick fuck to take the edge off.”

“Ah,” she gasped as he pressed all the way in, stuffing her full. Her jealous pussy throbbed. “Y-yes, Daddy.”

She didn’t bother to mention that she had to pee, because she knew what Daddy would have to say about that.

She tried her best to be quiet after that, but it was hard–no pun intended. Every thrust and drag of Daddy’s thick cock inside her left her squirming with a combination of discomfort and frustration, the urgency of her arousal warring with the urgency of her full bladder. She gripped tight onto her pillow to resist the urge to reach down and touch her pussy.

That was one of her other most important rules: Chelsea was absolutely never, ever allowed to touch her pussy. She was only supposed to get comes from Daddy or Mommy playing with her. If they suspected her of cheating on her rules–not that she ever would–they weren’t shy about supervising her in the bathroom, or making her leave the door open.

Chelsea vividly remembered her last come.

She had been in trouble, actually. She’d stolen some of the cookies Mommy had made and eaten them before dinner. Mommy had bent her over the kitchen table and spanked her good with a wooden spoon, one of the spanking implements that Chelsea most hated, and hadn’t stopped until she cried.

Then Mommy had made her stand in time-out the corner of the kitchen–naked, of course, so that Mommy could admire the red marks on her butt. As Mommy made dinner, she had come over to check on Chelsea every few minutes, toying with her with the same implement Mommy had used to spank her: rubbing the rough back of the spoon over the raw skin on her butt, or using the smooth handle to fondle and prod between the lips of her pussy.

By the time Mommy had put the dish in the oven for the final bake, Chelsea had been a total mess, sore and crying and desperately horny from the teasing and humiliation.

She had been stunned and pathetically grateful when Mommy had bent her over again and shoved the handle of the spoon right inside her pussy, churning it inside her until she came so hard that she had practically collapsed forward onto the table. Mommy had laughed at her for coming like a little whore on the spoon that had just been used to spank her, but Chelsea hadn’t even minded being teased, the come had been such a relief.

Thinking about the memory now was just another way to torment herself. She buried her face in her pillow and moaned, her pussy twitched hungrily as she clenched around Daddy’s cock. The feverish need inside her was so great that she could almost imagine coming like this, just from Daddy vigorously skewering her ass.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Chelsea had never, ever come from anal, no matter how horny she got.

That escort bursa was one of the reasons Daddy liked to fuck her in the ass so much.

Plus, he said she was tighter there. He had Mommy’s pussy to fuck when he wanted pussy–he didn’t need to use condoms with Mommy, since she’d had her tubes tied ages ago.

“Settle down, babygirl,” Daddy grunted warningly when Chelsea squirmed and whined. “Why’re you acting like you got ants in your pants, hmm? You haven’t been touching your clitty, have you?”

“No, Daddy!” she protested immediately, upset by the accusation. He shushed her, and she lowered her voice, realizing Mommy must still be sleeping. “I just–” She wasn’t going to get out of admitting it. “I have to pee.”

He made a humming noise that turned to a dark chuckle. “Didn’t you use the bathroom before bed, like a big girl?”

“No,” she admitted, and then groaned as he intentionally slowed his pace and ground down into her, pressing his hips to crush her bladder into the bed. “Uh–Daddy–“

“You know better than that. Are you going to start wetting the bed again?”.

Chelsea gasped and shuddered at the implied threat, and the wash of humiliation and arousal that it sent through her. Sometimes, Mommy and Daddy decided that Chelsea needed more than supervision in the bathroom; sometimes, they would decide she needed their permission to use the toilet at all, and then would withhold it to make her suffer and squirm, even to make her wet herself. It wasn’t a punishment; it was just something they enjoyed.

And Chelsea, being an absolute slut for being humiliated by the two people she trusted most in the world, enjoyed it too.

“No,” she said anyway, though her breathless tone belied the protest. “I’ll remember, Daddy, I promise.”

“Mm. I don’t know if you will.” He reached down and gripped one of her thighs, pulling it up to adjust the angle of his cock inside her, and she groaned with relief as some of the pressure on her full bladder eased–then groaned again with need when his hand quested further down, fingers massaging the soft mound of her sex, just above her aching clit. “And I don’t think that’s the only reason you’re squirming. Your pussy is leaking everywhere, babygirl.”

“Because it feels really good when you fuck me, Daddy.”

“Does it?” He shifted his fingers, and Chelsea shuddered, her entire mind suddenly focused on how near his fingers were to her most sensitive parts, how very badly she wanted a come. “You’ve been such a good girl these past few months, barely even begging to have your naughty parts played with. That makes me suspicious. Do you know why it makes me suspicious?”

“Um. Uh,” she gasped as he thrust hard into her ass. “I–I don’t–why, Daddy?”

“Because,” he said, voice lowering to a whisper, “I know, deep down, you’re really a bratty little whore.”

As he spoke, his hand crept down further, and he used his fingers to spread the outer lips of her pussy, exposing her swollen clit and gaping labia to the cool air of the bedroom.

“Daddy,” she moaned, voice cracking, tipping her hips up. Trying to urge him deeper, harder, even though she knew it would do nothing but make things worse and aggravate her bladder more.

“Dirty girl. You like to hear that? You like hearing your Daddy tell you what an incorrigible slut you are?” he demanded. When she moaned again in agreement, he used his other hand to cup her mouth, quieting her. “I think you’re a little liar, baby. I think you’ve been playing with yourself.”

“Mm-mm!” Chelsea protested into his hand, shaking her head as best as she could in his firm grip.

“No? You’re telling me you haven’t given in and touched your horny little clitty, not even once in the past five months?” he demanded. “You haven’t been hiding away in here rubbing yourself, or humping your stuffed animals, or sticking that cute little princess wand up your pussy?”

“Nhh! Nn-ghy!” Chelsea whined, her eyes rolling back in her head as he fucked faster and harder into her. The firm pressure of his cock and the threatening nearness of his fingers to her clit left her feeling like she was right on the edge of coming, shockingly aware of how her pussy kept pulsing, gaping open and then clenching shut again in long waves. Her body was tight and tense as it yearned for release, which didn’t help ease the pressure on her bladder.

“Dirty–little–slut–” her Daddy grunted as he fucked into her hard, each jostling thrust making the discomfort in her bladder even more acute, and then–

He dropped the hand on her mouth, instead using it to brace himself against the headboard as he sank deep inside her–

And then he pinched her clit. Hard.

“Oh FUCK,” Cheslea yelped.

The hard pressure and pain was a rare sensation, something that Mommy and Daddy sometimes used to ruin her orgasms–not when she was on the edge of coming. It went shooting through her whole body, making her buzz with confused signals. Her legs jolted around eskort bursa Daddy’s hips and her spine bent as she tried to jackknife away, but Daddy was too strong, holding her down.

She writhed under him, holding her breath, suddenly fighting for her life not to piss the bed, her bladder thundering to let go in response to the sudden pain. “Oh oh oh–oh oh–Daddy–“

The gratified groan of Daddy’s orgasm was a distant sound, even though his mouth was pressed right to her ear. She knew the hard clenching of her anus was milking his cock, her body so tight now that any pleasure from him being inside her had turned back to discomfort.

And yet–and yet–there was something happening inside her. A desperate, hot shuddering that was making it even harder to hold back her bladder.

Was she about to come? Surely not. Daddy’s fingers hurt, but–she couldn’t tell. Her system was overloaded. She could only writhe and thrash on the bed, pinned between the firm pressure of Daddy’s hips and the hard grip he had on her poor clit, making animal-like whimpering noises now in lieu of words.

Then Daddy pulled out of her and let go of her clit.

The heat boiled over. Blood flowed back into her clit, and it gave a single hard throb, and…and she was squirting.

“Oh no, oh,” she stammered, realizing as the fluid started to release what was going to happen, but it was too late.

Her spine jolted and curled and her full bladder forcefully emptied itself as her body went through the motions of squirting over and over again, muscles clenching so hard that she knew she’d be sore later. She was helpless under the onslaught, only able to clutch at the pillow and hold on. The muscle contractions in her pussy almost felt like an orgasm–an incredibly powerful one, too–but there was no pleasure in it.

Her throbbing, abused clit begged for some additional stimulation, anything to turn the hot, flashing sensations rocking her body into a proper come.

But Daddy was holding her hips up, not even letting her grind into the sheets. Not that the touch would have necessarily helped any, with her clit so overstimulated; it likely would’ve just hurt more.

Rather than being lost in pleasure and relief, Chelsea was instead painfully lucid. She was acutely aware of the warmth on her thighs as she pissed all over herself, the burning pain in her clit and her ass from being used and pinched, the emptiness inside of her where the pleasure of orgasm should have been.

“Shh, shhh. It’s alright, babygirl,” Daddy was murmuring to her when the tide finally stopped. He was stroking her thighs, his touch gentle now. “It’s okay. Go ahead and cry it out.”

Chelsea hadn’t even realized she was crying, but she was: loud, bawling sobs that she couldn’t hold back. “Daddy,” she wailed, and he shushed her again and then gathered her up, pulling her into his lap to stroke and comfort her.

“What’s going on in here?” Mommy’s voice asked from the doorway a few minutes later, thick with sleep.

Chelsea, too embarrassed over wetting herself and too upset over the lost orgasm to answer, just buried her face more firmly in Daddy’s shoulder and sobbed. Daddy answered for her: “Chelsea’s just a little upset. She had an accident in bed.”

“Oh dear. Going into another of those phases, is she?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Chelsea shuddered and sobbed again at the confirmation that her loosened bladder would be used as an excuse to restrict her bathroom access for the foreseeable future.

She loved and hated it, the same way that she both loved and hated the way Mommy and Daddy controlled her orgasms and every other part of her life; it turned her on, and it made her feel secure and wanted, but it was so hard sometimes.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whined, muffled, thinking that she might change his mind–not that she’d really want to. If Mommy and Daddy just let her push them around to get her way, she wouldn’t love them as much as she did.

Daddy shushed her and kissed the top of her head. “It’s alright, Chels, it’s not your fault. These sorts of things happen to little girls sometimes.”

She whimpered miserably, then nodded, accepting her fate and steeling herself for the discomfort coming her way over the next few days.

After a few minutes, Daddy helped her up and out of the bed, then half-carried her to the master bathroom.

Chelsea flushed with embarrassment as she realized they needed the big bath because she’d pissed on Daddy, too–but she was a little pleased as well, because she loved taking baths with Daddy. They rinsed most of the pee off in the shower first, and then Daddy ran a bath and sat down, urging Chelsea to lean back into his broad chest, which she did happily.

“Tell me the truth, now, babygirl,” Daddy said as he started to rub soap into Chelsea’s skin. “Did you have a come when you peed the bed just now?”

Chelsea flushed and squirmed, making the water slosh. “I don’t know, Daddy.”

“You don’t know? I think you would know if you were having a come or not, Chelsea.”

“I don’t!” she protested, her voice going whiny. “It was just–a lot of things happening, and it didn’t feel good, but it did feel like something, and–I don’t know, Daddy! Maybe it was a ruin?”

Daddy hummed thoughtfully, and then put a hand on one of Chelsea’s breast, rubbing a thumb across her nipple.

Chelsea gasped quietly in surprise, then relaxed back into Daddy’s chest as he continued to touch, brushing slow circles around the sensitive nub. Little shocks of pleasure ran through her body, collecting in her core until she was breathing hard. When Daddy pulled her up and bent his head to wrap his lips around the nipple, licking and sucking, she couldn’t hold back the loud moan or stop her hips from jerking as her body pulsed with renewed need. “Oh, Daddy…”

“Mmm,” he hummed, like he was sucking on a delicious candy instead of her sensitive nipple. Then he pulled back and chuckled at her groan of disappointment. “What do you think now, babygirl? Do you think you had a come?”

Chelsea took stock of the urgent throbbing inside her, the way her body was begging sharply for some stimulation on her clit in spite of the lingering pain from her Daddy’s bruising grip. She shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t think so, Daddy.”

“You’re still not sure? I guess it must be hard to know, when you’re such a desperate little whore naturally.” He moved his hand to her other nipple, playing with her there as well until she was gasping and squirming, her eyes half-shut. “Does your clitty still hurt?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. We wouldn’t want you tempted to mess with it, hmm?” he murmured, and she whined, both at his words and at the loss of sensation as he let go of her tit. “Rinse off now, and let’s go see if Mommy needs any help cleaning up the mess you made.”

***

“I see you squirming.”

Chelsea bit her lip at Mommy’s sharp tone, and squeezed her thighs together, trying to still herself. She was seated at the kitchen table, the wood of the bench warm under her bare bottom and damp under her exposed pussy.

She was meant to be doing her journalling homework. Mommy and Daddy liked her to keep a written record of her own experiences and feelings each day. Maintaining a kink lifestyle nearly 24/7 wasn’t easy, and they’d learned early on that if Chelsea got too far into little-space, sometimes she had trouble articulating her emotions and needs. The journaling encouraged her to introspect, and kept those lines of communication open.

Plus, Mommy and Daddy thought it was hot to read back over what she’d been feeling when they’d played with her.

She didn’t mind the journalling, usually, but it was pretty hard to focus on writing with a full bladder. Chelsea hadn’t been allowed to use the restroom yet since her accident early that morning, and now it was past breakfast.

“Mommy, I have to pee,” she whined, without much hope. She’d already asked twice in the last half hour, and Mommy clearly wasn’t about to let her go any time soon.

Maybe Mommy was jealous that Daddy had gotten to see her wet herself earlier, and wouldn’t let her go at all until she lost control.

As expected, Mommy tutted and shook her head, not looking up from the work she was doing on her laptop. “I don’t think so. After wetting your bed this morning, I don’t trust one bit that you know when you need to go, babygirl. You just want to play around in the bathroom.”

“I do need to go, Mommy, really,” Chelsea begged, squirming again. It had been nearly four hours since she’d emptied her bladder all over her bed–and Mommy had made sure that she drank a full glass and a half of water at breakfast.

“Stop squirming. That’s dirty,” Mommy scolded, finally looking up from her computer.

Pleased to have gotten her attention, Chelsea squirmed again, biting her lip.

Mommy snorted and stood, stepping around the table. Chelsea tilted her head back to watch until she was staring up at Mommy standing over her, until Mommy put a hand over her eyes, holding her head in place.

Then Mommy put a hand between Chelsea’s thighs.

Chelsea whimpered in surprised pleasure–and a bit of pain–when Mommy’s fingers caressed feather-light over her clit, making her body twinge with arousal and with leftover sting from the pinch she’d gotten that morning.

The second stroke made her shudder, and she leaned back and spread her legs, bracing herself against Mommy’s warm, solid presence behind her. “Mommy…”

“I knew it. And look how wet you are down here,” Mommy said. “Filthy girl. I hardly know what to do with you.”

She kept on stroking, though, her fingers tracing oh-so-lightly up and down Chelsea’s sensitive, throbbing clit until Chelsea could only make little whimpering begging sounds, her hips rocking as she tried to lean into the sensation. Her body was still confused from the uncomfortable events of that morning, and she didn’t know if she was getting any closer to a come, but it felt good.

And then Mommy stopped, lifting her fingers just out of reach of Chelsea’s dripping pussy. Chelsea whined in protest, then glared up at Mommy when her eyes were uncovered.

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