Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three
(CW: incest (father-daughter))
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“It’s time you became a cheerleader, Laurel,” said Annika, on the morning after Laurel’s trip to the skate park.
Laurel was eating breakfast, and she flinched even before she understood what Annika had said. There was a particular tone that Annika used when she was about to make Laurel do something that she didn’t want to do, and Laurel had come to react to that tone on an instinctive level.
“I don’t want to be a cheerleader,” Laurel replied. “They’re all skanks and sluts.”
She immediately knew that this was the wrong thing to say. Telling her stepmother that she didn’t want to do something just made Annika want to force her. And Annika, who was the biggest slut Laurel had ever met, obviously didn’t care about the moral standards of the school cheerleading team.
In fact, right at that moment, Annika was topless, her boobs on full display, just so that Annika’s father could enjoy them as he ate his bacon and eggs.
“Look at your mother when she’s talking to you, sweetie,” said Laurel’s father.
Laurel, who had been trying to avoid any glimpse of her stepmother’s fuckbags, reluctantly lifted her gaze to Annika’s face.
Annika giggled. “My tits are down *here*, Laurel,” she said, cupping and bouncing her boobs. “It’s an insult to a woman to pretend her breasts aren’t desirable. Feel free to stare.”
“I don’t *want* to stare at your tits!” objected Laurel. “I’m not even into women!”
(Which wasn’t entirely the truth – she’d had more than a few fantasies about certain girls at her school, and some pop singers, and… but Annika didn’t need to know that.)
“Don’t be a brat, Laurel,” said her father, sternly. “If your mother wants you to stare at her tits, then do as she says.”
And so Laurel was forced to fix her gaze on Annika’s giant plastic fuckbags, and to try and ignore the sudden vague throbbing in her cunt that began when she did so.
“Every young woman wants to be a cheerleader,” said Annika. “They’re simply the most popular girls in any school. So you should be a cheerleader.”
“Popular with the *boys*, maybe,” scoffed Laurel.
Annika gasped. “Laurel,” she said. “I know you’re young and foolish, but I don’t *ever* want to hear you suggest that there is anything wrong with being popular with boys.”
“But the boys don’t *respect* the cheerleaders,” argued Laurel. “They think they’re sluts. They just like the costumes.”
“Laurel,” said Annika, “you will eventually learn that men run this world. Men are going to decide what your career options are, what your rights are, how much money you earn, and what it is acceptable for you to wear in public. Men are going to put a baby into you and expect you to raise it. Men are going to decide whether you lead a life where you are loved and cherished, or a life where you are raped and homeless.”
She leaned in close. This had the effect of pushing her tits onto her breakfast plate, smearing some of her fried egg across one nipple.
“There is *nothing* more important than being popular with boys,” said Annika. “Nothing. Being approved of by men is your first and most important goal in life. It’s more important than being respected. It’s more important than having rights or dignity. It’s more important than your freedom or your comfort. Do you understand me?”
Laurel was a bit freaked out by Annika’s intensity. “Yes,” she said. “But I don’t agree.”
Annika leaned back, and laughed. “You will,” she said. Then she noticed the yellow egg yolk on her nipple. Using both hands, she pulled her breast upwards, and sucked the food off her nipple, moaning a little as she did so.
“So,” she said, when she was done, “you’re going to join the cheerleading team. I expect to hear you’re on the team by the end of the week.”
Laurel shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way,” she said. “There are auditions – and it’s not audition time again until the second semester, which is months away. And you have to be athletic, and I’m not, really. And…”
Annika sighed. She picked up her phone, did a quick search, and then showed Laurel a picture. It was of the cheerleading team at Laurel’s school.
“Look at these girls,” she said. “What do you see?”
“Sluts,” joked Laurel.
“Laurel!” said her father sharply. “Don’t back-talk your mother.”
“Try harder, Laurel,” said Annika. “What do you see?”
Laurel shrugged. “Girls,” she said. “Cheerleaders.”
“Look at their tits, Laurel,” said Annika.
Laurel blushed. “They’re all… kind of busty.”
“And they’re pretty, aren’t they?” said Annika.
“I suppose,” said Laurel. (In fact, Donna Carrigan and Hope Ryan, two of the girls in the photo, had played an occasional role in some of Laurel’s more confused sexual fantasies.)
“Do you think that, just coincidentally, all the girls who were ‘athletic’ enough to be cheerleaders just happened to be pretty girls with big tits?” asked Annika.
Now that Laurel thought about it, it did seem strange. And some of the girls on the hockey team, for instance, were far fitter than these girls, but had smaller tits and plainer faces.
“I’m going to tell you a secret,” said Annika. “Your cheerleading coach is not picking girls for their athletic skills. He is picking girls that he wants to fuck.”
Laurel blushed.
“So make him want to fuck *you*, Laurel,” Annika continued.
“That’s gross,” said Laurel. “And anyway, I don’t want to be a cheerleader.”
Annika looked across at Laurel’s father. “Darling?” she appealed.
Laurel’s father coughed. “Your mother and I have been talking about your… somewhat antisocial position at school,” he said. “How your only friends are those… undesirable sorts at the skate park. And we both agreed that you should make an effort to be more popular.”
Laurel pouted at this betrayal. “But, daddy…” she began.
“We both think that being a cheerleader might be good for your social standing,” said her father. “But if you really don’t want to do that, we have been discussing an alternative. Your stepmother commented on how you might benefit from a breast enhancement, like hers, and how it might get you more attention from nice boys. And they’re really quite affordable these days…”
Laurel’s eyes widened in horror. “You want to give me *plastic cow tits*? Like *hers*?”
“Well,” said Annika, “we might make yours look a little more natural. We’d want to keep that innocent look you have going on. But taking you up a couple of bra sizes, so that people really *notice* your tits, would be in your best interests…”
“No!” shrieked Laurel, crossing her arms over her breasts protectively. “No!”
“Well, it’s really up to you, dear,” said her father. “If you do the cheerleading thing, I’m sure we can compromise on the breast surgery.”
Laurel stared at her father. But he didn’t blink. The message was clear. Either she became a cheerleader, within a week, or her father was seriously going to force her to get a boob job.
“I was just encouraging your father to think how nice you’d look with bigger tits last night, Laurel,” said Annika. “While I was sucking his cock. And I have to say, he orgasmed *very* quickly.”
Laurel’s father at least had the decency to blush.
Laurel turned away, revolted and ashamed.
At that point, Laurel phone beeped. She picked it up and looked at the message she had just received. She immediately blushed, and put the phone down quickly.
But Annika had seen her reaction.
“What was the message, Laurel?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Laurel. “Just stupid stuff.”
“I don’t think so,” said Annika. “You clearly had a reaction to whatever it was, just now.”
“I said it doesn’t matter,” said Laurel, angrily. She got up and made to leave the table.
But Annika was on top of her with surprising speed. The older bimbo’s giant tits pressed against Laurel’s arm as she wrestled the phone out of Laurel’s hand.
“It has a passcode, you dumb bitch,” snarled Laurel, as Annika took the phone from her. “It’s my private life.”
“Disable the passcode,” said Annika, her voice cold.
“No!” shouted Laurel. “Why?”
“While you’re under your father’s roof, it’s his right to inspect your phone,” said Annika. “Now disable it.”
“Fuck you!” yelled Laurel. She pushed Annika right in the tits.
“Stephen!” shrieked Annika. “Restrain your daughter!”
Laurel heard her father stand up – and then she felt her head yanked back, as her father took a firm grasp of her hair, and then her arm was pulled behind her back.
Annika assisted, and in no time at all, Laurel was powerless.
They pulled up her skirt, and Annika pulled down her panties, and they took her to the couch and draped her across her father’s lap. Annika could feel her father’s erection poking through his pants, poking into her pussy, as it had done the first time she had been spanked, and she squealed as she felt her father begin to whack her butt with his hand, not just because it hurt, but because every blow drove her groin down onto her father’s cock, so that she could feel the tent in his pants separating her pussy lips and rubbing against the soft, pink flesh inside.
“The spanking will continue until you apologise for being a worthless cunt, and agree to remove the lock on your phone,” said Annika.
“Fuck you!” swore Laurel.
But she realised that she really was stuck. She was helpless, unable to get up, and the spanking really *would* continue for as long as her father and Annika wanted it too.
And it hurt – it did hurt – but there was something else that made her want the spanking to be over. Two things, really. The first was that she was getting wet. As each blow vibrated through her ass and groin, she could feel her pussy responding. She didn’t want to be sexually aroused in front of her father. She didn’t want her father to *feel* that.
And the second was that it was having an effect on her father. Each spank was bouncing her pussy on his restrained cock. Each spank was effectively using her as her father’s masturbation tool. And it was worse, because as she got wet, she knew that she was leaving a wet spot of her own arousal on her father’s pants. And if she kept being spanked, who knew what might happen?
She had a horrifying vision of orgasming against her father’s dick. Or worse – making her *father* cum, feeling him twitch beneath her, feeling his cum soak through his pants and smear itself along her wet, needy cunt…
So she gave up, quickly.
“I’m sorry!” she gasped on the fifteenth spank. “I’m a worthless cunt! I’ll remove the lock!”
They let her up, but the wet spot on her father’s pants was clearly visible when she stood.
“Laurel, don’t be a disgusting slut,” said Annika, smiling. “Look what you’ve done to your father. If you do that again, I’ll expect you to clean it up.”
Laurel just blushed, and focused on removing her phone lock. She reluctantly passed the phone back to Annika, and then quickly pulled up her panties.
She knew what Annika was seeing on her phone. It was a message from Gavin, one of Laurel’s friends from the skate park.
It read: “Hey, L, can I see your tits again?” And then a pear emoji, and a melon emoji, and a winking face.
“What a nice message to receive,” said Annika. “Weren’t you going to answer this Gavin boy, Laurel?” (She showed the message to Laurel’s father as she said this.)
“I was just going to ignore him, but I can tell him no,” said Laurel.
“You’ll do no such thing,” said Annika. “This boy is *interested* in you, Laurel. That’s a compliment. A skanky little skater girl like you should be ecstatic to learn that a boy is interested in you.”
Laurel shrugged. “So… thanks, but no?”
“Send the boy a picture of your tits, Laurel,” said Annika.
Laurel crossed her arms over her boobs again. “I don’t want to!” she complained.
Now it was Laurel’s father who spoke. “Do you need another spanking, Laurel?” he asked. There was a note of hopeful lust in his voice.
“Come on, Laurel, lift up your top, and I’ll take the picture for you,” said Annika. “Let’s make the poor boy happy.”
Laurel looked desperately from Annika to her father, realising that they were both serious. Either she was going to send Gavin a photo of her tits, or she was going to be spanked, and then she would probably have to do it anyway.
“But then he’ll have a *photo* of me!” she wailed. “Of my breasts! He can show it to other people!”
“Young actresses and models dream every day of people wanting to see photos of them,” said Annika. “Stop being a spoiled brat. You have an opportunity here to be popular with boys. And there is *nothing* more important than being popular with boys.”
Blushing bright red, Laurel admitted that she was defeated. She might have toughed out another round of spanking, had she not been worried that it might make her father cum – or make *her* cum – or both.
So instead, she pulled up her top, and her bra, to reveal her breasts to her father and stepmother. And Annika raised Laurel’s phone, and took a photo.
When it was done, Annika passed the phone back to Laurel, and let Laurel run, blushing, to her bedroom to hide.
It was only later that Laurel looked at the picture her stepmother had taken. It showed her large tits, in all their glory, and her face as well, so there was no pretending that it wasn’t her in the photo. And Annika had sent it to Gavin.
Gavin had replied only with emojis – an eggplant, and a squirt. Laurel had an immediate vision of Gavin ejaculating on her bare tits, and shivered with disgust. She hated the idea that he was masturbating to the photo of her breasts.
But Laurel also noticed that Gavin wasn’t the only person that Annika had sent the photo to.
She had also sent a copy to Laurel’s father.
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