How to Train Your Daughter Ch. 13a

As was customary when dealing with girls in her situation, I had begun taking her to see a feminine relaxation therapist downtown, Dr. Andrew, who had the skills and equipment to touch her and stimulate her properly and bring her to orgasm in a safe, professional setting, helping to balance her body and brain chemistry, and alleviate some of the aching natural need her body was experiencing, but which she must wait a bit longer before she would be allowed to fully satisfy.

The treatment had been a success, and Serena enjoyed having Dr. Andrew work on her, and now I took her to standing appointments at his office on Monday afternoons after school.

Dr. Andrew had taken a few days off for a little trip to Virginia to observe the latest girl-handling techniques at a symposium there, and so Serena was forced to forego her treatment this week. She was now three days longer without relief than she was accustomed, and her next appointment wasn't for another few days, and it was clear that she was struggling.

'I'm sorry, sweetheart, I know that Dr. Andrew's treatment is important and helpful for you, but you know he can't see you until next week. I don't understand why that means you need to run around here without any clothes on, though. Come here please, honey.'

Her face was rueful as she shuffled—a little stickily, I thought—across the room and joined me behind my desk, and I caught the arresting, unmistakable musk of a girl's heady heat as she took her place in front of me.

Her hands wandered distractedly over her bare body, drawn repeatedly toward her pussy like heavenly bodies in thrall to the irresistible attraction of the source of the pleasure of pleasures, before veering away at the last moment, since she knew she wasn't supposed to touch herself in that way.

There were many systems and traditions and philosophies concerning the proper raising of daughters in preparation for their Festival and their public deflowering, and the subsequent commencement of their sexual training; we were a fairly typical, mainstream family, and as was customary, our daughters had always been expressly forbidden from masturbation.

It was generally felt that it was best for a girl to learn to associate sexual touching and pleasure with the hands and bodies of eligible men, and so until her training career began, attempts were made to prevent her from touching herself inappropriately, since it was important that her foundational, initial sexual experiences and responses be imprinted on the act of being used for copulatory enjoyment by mature males, as was her natural purpose.

This had long been a struggle with Serena, who was perhaps the most innately sybaritic of my daughters; she craved pleasure in all its forms, and once she'd discovered how good she could make herself feel by playing with her own vagina, it had been difficult to prevent her from indulging her innocent appetite for self-defilement.

'I don't know, daddy. I've been trying to be good, I really have, but last night I had a dream that Dr. Andrew undressed me and strapped me down on his table and was touching me like he normally does, but then all of a sudden he started...licking...me...here...like, on my slit...and...and then he licked...inside me, too, and I woke up and I was so, so wet, daddy...'

I took her by the arm and held the back of my hand against her forehead; she was lightly fevered, and the flush that had started in her cheeks had crept across much of her naked body as she'd been talking.

'And I just couldn't stop thinking about it all day, and my tummy has been in knots since I woke up, and I can't stop...leaking everywhere. And then Professor Thomas gave me a uniform inspection, and my panties were totally soaked when he had me bend over so he could check between my legs, and he confiscated them and told me to go clean myself up and then come back to show him that I'd done a good job...'

Her eyes shone with pent-up emotion, and I could feel her body heat radiating from her; I realized she was trembling slightly as I reached up and carefully pulled her hair back from her shoulders to help her cool down a bit; her magnificent breasts heaved as her story tumbled out, and I ran my hands soothingly down her sides and over her soft tummy to help calm her.

'...but every time I tried to clean my vagina, I just kept getting wetter again when he would check me and I would feel his fingers spread me open, and so then he would take more of my clothes, daddy, until I was naked, and then he said he was going to have to come up with some other punishments if I wasn't going to be a good girl and keep my vagina clean for him, but then the bell rang and he sent me home. And I went to my room to do my homework, but I can't concentrate or think straight, and I don't know what to doooo...'

Her vulva appeared puffier and pinker than normal, and the copious amount of her juices that were spread about the outside of her genitals betrayed the fact that she'd almost certainly been masturbating already, despite her fabulations of admirable self-restraint.

I pressed my thumb and finger into the wet, sticky blonde fur on either side of her slit and gently spread her outer lips apart in order to examine her genitals; fortunately, she appeared to be perfectly healthy, and not suffering from any more serious an ailment than a simple young girl's nascent, feral sexual hunger, and she moaned and held herself up with the support of my desk.

Her vagina was deeply flushed pink, and clearly swollen to the touch, which was understandable since it had spent apparently the entire, interminable day—if not week—in a state of frustrated arousal, and she was a shameless mess; clear, slick fluid thickly coated her secret areas inside, and her clitoris, which was normally quite discreet and deeply buried in her delicate inner folds, was a furious shade of rose now, and reared its head impressively from under its protective little hood in its urgent efforts to make contact with any accommodating male's hand, or tongue, or penis. Her voice was a husky whine of imploring torment as she bounced her juicy, needy body fretfully on my hand.

'Daddy, pleeeease can you do some of what Dr. Andrew does? You know how he...he kind of pinches my...clitoris...and pulls on it gently, daddy? It feels soooo good when he does it. Please, please can you do it, just for a couple minutes? I need it soooo bad, daddy...'

Despite the nearly irresistible siren song of her petulant clitoris, I steeled myself against the urge to help my daughter with her little crisis; I knew that it was important to allow her sexual frustration to peak as she approached her Festival, helping to ensure that she took to her training with as much enthusiasm and as much of an appetite for her lessons as possible, and would gladly, unreservedly allow her naked body to be used for whatever lubricious purposes eligible men might conjure for it.

I released her cunny and watched her outer lips seal wetly closed again beneath her soiled blonde scruff, gave her a little pat on her mound, and shook my head.

'Serena, honey, I'm sorry you're missing your treatment this week with Dr. Andrew, but sometimes life happens, and it's not an excuse for you to act up like this. I need you to be a big girl for me right now, and go put on some clothes and do your homework. I'm not a doctor, and I'm not going to try to perform a medical procedure on my own daughter, and despite how you feel right now, I'm fairly sure you won't die before your next appointment.'

She gave a dramatic, anguished groan, and huffed out of my study.

A few minutes later while heading to the kitchen for a snack, I passed her bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, and I was frozen briefly in place by what I saw.

She had not obeyed at all, and had neither gotten dressed nor began her homework; she was still completely naked, and sprawled on her bed on her back with her legs spread wide and her oversized stuffed bear sitting proudly between them with his fuzzy belly against her bare vulva.

Her eyes were closed, and through the crack in her door I heard the irresistible private, secret sounds of a naughty girl who thought she was safely alone and unobserved in order to play with herself, and I was enthralled by the beautiful wet, sloppy rhythm of her fingers rapidly diddling her soaked pussy as she whispered breathless endearments to her bear.

'...Yes sir, Professor Thomas, I will clean up my vagina...I'm so sorry, sir, I'm such a mess...I promise I'll clean it, you can check it now...ohhh...look at my cunny Professor Thomas, I cleaned it for you...ohhh...is this better, sir...you can touch it, sir...ohmygoshohmygosh...pleeease, sir...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I keep getting soooo wet...I'm trying hard to keep my cunny clean for you...'

I opened her door and sternly said her name, and she startled and shut her legs with a squeal, clutching her big fluffy bear to her breasts.

Catching her red-handed, I had no choice but to spank her. Unfortunately, I'd started to suspect that Serena was beginning to respond sexually to discipline as well, and that she sometimes got 'caught' misbehaving simply in order to receive some strokes from my paddle.

Her incompletely shut door and the flagrance of her disobedience were almost too obvious to not be a setup, and I was fairly certain that the dramatic shudders and squeaks and moans she displayed as I administered her punishment were meant to disguise a furtive orgasm. The warm, insistent moisture that fairly pooled in my hand when I checked her vagina after her spanking only reinforced my suspicions that she had finagled a sneaky way to use the household rules against me to checkmate me into helping her cum, despite my earlier firm refusal. I was a little frustrated and disappointed in her, but I didn't see what other choice I had.

Later that afternoon I called my friend, Martin Davis, whose house Jennifer had visited to spend time with his granddaughter, Elizabeth.

I mentioned that Jennifer had told me how he'd had sex with his granddaughter at the sleepover, and said that Jennifer had begun displaying a strong desire for me to couple with her as a way of demonstrating her filial love and affection, but that while I somewhat understood what she wanted, I still had reservations about actually having intercourse with her.

I asked him to share a bit about his daughter-raising philosophy, and he laughed over the phone delightedly and said he was only too happy to oblige.

The somewhat fringe doctrine which Martin espoused taught that ever higher levels of personal awareness and inner knowledge were possible with each successive generation of his own offspring a man coupled with, and his daughters and granddaughters had been raised to believe that, while allowing themselves to be trained and used sexually by eligible men in general was indeed a significant fulfillment of their purpose, the ultimate function of their bodies lay in the pleasure and release they would provide their father, grandfather, and so on, as far up the family tree as were still alive and virile.

It only made sense, evolutionarily speaking, he explained; a young female was irresistibly driven to mate with males who possessed strong sperm, and while many secondary indicators could provide instinctual clues as to a man's virility, such as his strength or fitness or penis size, there could be no more indisputable proof of man's ability to throw strong, healthy offspring than to actually be one of those offspring, and to take the cock of the man who created her and to receive into her body the same powerful seminal fluid in which she had once been shot into her mother, and which had been deposited in her grandmother or great-grandmother before her in order to create her.

While there was still an energetic public debate concerning the degree to which girls should be raised to service the eligible men in their own families, Martin could only say he was completely delighted with the results over the first forty years or so of his experiment.

Elizabeth and her sisters and cousins had been taught their entire lives that their crowning achievement after their Festival would be the lessons they received from him; and the unbridled joy, strong orgasmic response, and close emotional bonding with him Elizabeth had displayed each time he'd enjoyed her body only confirmed his belief in the importance of teaching young girls to find their ultimate fulfillment as vessels of sexual pleasure for their fathers, uncles, and grandfathers.

Additionally, because he'd been able to prepare her for her future role by normalizing the sharing of her body for sexual purposes within the safety and privacy of the family, Elizabeth had begun her training career after her deflowering with exemplary enthusiasm and generosity, more fully confident and free with her spectacular, curvaceous little body than most girls were.

My own experience handling her at the father-daughter party had confirmed this, as I'd found she was delightfully at ease and willingly obedient when I'd fucked her, and offered every inch of her delicious naked body completely to me in the most charming and arousing manner imaginable; I could only hope that my girls—especially the shy Selena—would someday feel as confident letting strangers have intercourse with them.

'Listen, Robert, you don't need to fully embrace my beliefs, of course. But I do know that girls who are trained by their fathers are better adjusted and make superior progress in their sexual education, and have fewer issues adapting to the rigors and challenges of their training.

'I've been fortunate enough to handle Jennifer several times now, and she's an incredible young girl that you've raised, but it was clear to me from some of the questions she asked when she slept over here that she truly wants to share herself with you, which is a completely normal impulse for a young thing in the beginning of her training.

'I can assure you that you'll do no harm by giving her some of what she wants, as long as you want it, too. She needs to feel close to you and loved by you, Robert—and I think, after listening to your thoughtful questions, that you want to make her feel that way, too.

'I promise you this, there is no greater pleasure than being inside your own daughter. Remember, the whole point of reproduction is for a man to pass on his genes and mold a world more perfect for him.

'When you conceived Jennifer inside your wife, you created an ideal combination of you and the woman you love, and Jennifer's body and her vagina were literally designed to be more perfectly suited to your own body's needs and pleasure than any random trainee girl's. It's hard to describe, but there is truly no more rapturous an experience than enjoying a perfect vagina your body created to be ideally suited to your own penis.

'Even if, unlike me, you choose not to make coupling with your daughters a regular practice, I must recommend every father try it at least once—it will absolutely be the best orgasm of your life.'

It had been an enlightening conversation, and I pondered Martin's words the rest of the day, marveling at the simple beauty and reasonableness of his way of thinking, and recalling again how marvelously sexy and fun and free his granddaughter Elizabeth was when being trained by four fathers she'd only just met at the father-daughter party at Martin's house, which was certainly a testament to the success of his methods.

My wife Morgan Lynn did not come home that night. As a married woman with a daughter who had celebrated her Festival, she was now eligible to have sex with any young men she chose between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four, to teach them sexual skills and a proper understanding and appreciation of a female body; Tuesday and Thursday evenings she'd typically shower and change at her downtown law office before going straight to working with whatever young buck, or bucks, she'd selected for their lessons.

As the twins' Festival got closer, and as my evenings were now often engaged in training other men's daughters, they had taken more responsibility for their hygiene and grooming, and now I only bathed them each once a week, on Morgan's training nights.

I always looked forward to bath nights with my daughters; it was an opportunity for me to check in with their bodies and ensure they were healthy and feeling well, and chat about school or friends or life in general with them, and it was important in our full house for each of the girls to get some one-on-one time with me regularly.

Now that Jennifer had celebrated her Festival and was in training, I no longer bathed her, and I now realized with chagrin that in losing things as seemingly insignificant as a weekly bath, she might in fact be missing so much more as well.

Tonight was Selena's bath, and at eight o'clock I followed the trail of steam up the stairs to where it was filtering out from beneath the door along with the rushing sound of the bathtub faucet, and knocked.

'You can come in, daddy!' Selena called.

I opened the door just as she was pulling her white tank top over her head, and her muffled, '...I'm just getting undressed!' coincided perfectly with the delightful, steam-swirled sight of her large breasts tumbling heavily from beneath the thin fabric as her athletic frame flexed and stretched wonderfully.

Shaking her thick head of blonde hair free from her top, she gave a big smile upon seeing me standing there watching her. I couldn't help but smile back at her, of course; how could there be any other reaction to seeing her full, firm figure in the warm light of the bathroom sconces above the big free-standing tub? She was beautiful, and I adored the way the waistband of her simple white bikini-cut around-the-house panties bit gently into the delectable puppy fat that smoothed her wide hips.

I kissed her in greeting and stepped behind her to check on the state of the filling bathtub, taking a moment to admire how her gloriously full butt cheeks hung free, framed by her waistband and the narrow strip of fabric that joined it from between her exquisite curves of her booty.

She bent and peeled her panties down her thick thighs, treating me to a glimpse of what lay buried deep between them, and tossed her underthings aside, turning to face me, completely naked now, and raising her arms to put her hair up in a loose bun.

She grinned, happily basking in my gaze as I looked her up and down; her ease in being nude in front of me the product of long custom.

'Selena, sweetheart, you're looking so beautiful and strong. How's that hamstring feeling?'

She laughed, running her hands over her body and taking a little physical inventory in the charming way girls often do after they take off their clothes, and squeezed her breasts briefly, pinching her nipples gently with her thumb and forefinger.

'Thank you, daddy, I'm really doing my best. It's way better than last week.'

Selena was beautiful; her blue eyes that sparkled in anticipation of her special time with me, her large breasts that hung with such perfect fullness, her dark nipples the highlights of her bosomy landscape where they sprung pertly from the centers of her small, cleanly-delineated areolas.

The twins were identical, and the only ways the average person could tell them apart was by Serena's light scattering of freckles across her shoulders and breasts, and the fact that Selena was the slightly curvier of the pair, and her pussy was a little fatter, with a shorter slit in her mound than her sister, which lent her private area an even more elegantly simple, innocent appearance.

Selena's soccer coach kept strict grooming standards for his players, and she had trimmed her pubic hair into a clean, short landing strip that burst like a blonde exclamation point from the top of her slit.