Copyright © 2001 by Marilyn Jaye Lewis

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

“Daddy’s Girl” appeared in a slightly different form Tough Girls: Down & Dirty Dyke Erotica, edited by Lori Selke, published by Black Books, USA, fall 2001; in Lust: Bisexual Erotica, published by Alyson Books, USA, fall 2004; and in Slave to Love, edited by Alison Tyler, published by Cleis Press, USA, fall 2006. 

When my little sister, Jenna, and I were eight and ten years old respectively, we fell in love with an older girl, Denise Dominic, our babysitter. Denise lived three houses up the block from us and was one of seven black-haired children in an Italian, Roman Catholic family. All the kids on our block went to public school except the Dominics-they attended St. Christopher’s and so seemed to inhabit a different planet.

Before Denise became our babysitter, when she was fifteen, Jenna and I knew nothing about the Dominic family except that Mr. Dominic had a wicked temper. His dark, Italian complexion grew even darker when he’d come out to his front lawn and holler for whichever one of his seven children had managed to fuck-up this time. The rest of us neighborhood kids would scatter for the safety of our own backyards when Mr. Dominic was on the warpath. Rumor had it, he beat his children with a belt when they were bad-a thing that didn’t happen in the rest of our white Anglo-Saxon houses, and so the unknown easily terrorized our immature but fertile imaginations.

Denise was a scrappy tomboy, even back then-and this is going back about eleven years already. It seemed like she was always in the doghouse for something. After Jenna and I had fallen in love with her, it was particularly gut wrenching to hear Mr. Dominic’s booming baritone holler out, “Deh-nise! You get in hear this minute!” Then that night, Jenna and I would hide together in the bed we shared and commiserate over poor Denise’s fate; whispering in cautious terror, as if we were afraid Mr. Dominic himself would hear us from three houses away and, belt in hand, come after us next.

Denise became our babysitter when our regular sitter moved away. I was watching TV alone in the family room early one fateful Saturday evening, when my mom came in, followed by a tough-looking, black-haired teenaged girl with intense brown eyes. My mom said, “Jill, honey, you know Denise Dominic from up the block? She’s going to be your new babysitter.”

Well, technically, I did know Denise Dominic, but I’d never seen her up close before. I was instantly smitten. From that moment on, I had an acute attack of butterflies in my belly whenever Denise came anywhere near me. Jenna fell in love that very same night, but her infatuation with Denise didn’t last as long as mine did, which is why what came later seemed so incongruous to me-but I’m rushing myself.

Jenna has always been more outgoing than I have. Even back then, she openly flirted with Denise-baited her endlessly or tried to amuse her-whereas I was painfully shy and easily intimidated. I often felt like Denise barely knew I existed since my sister took up so much of her attention whenever she was in our house. But luckily, Jenna went to bed a whole hour earlier than I did. That last remaining hour that I got to spend alone with Denise on Saturday nights was what I lived for through the week. Even though I rarely uttered a complete sentence to her, I pretended all week long that that coming Saturday would be the night I would finally confess my love to her. Of course it never happened.

The following year, my parents decided I was old enough to look after my little sister and myself.  That was also the year Denise turned sixteen and wanted a better paying job anyway, so that she could buy her own car. My sister moved on to another infatuation-boys-while I stayed hopelessly in love with Denise from afar. By then it became difficult to catch a glimpse of her in person, she was so busy being a sixteen year old, but she filled my fantasies at night in ways that grew increasingly disturbing.

It used to be that Jenna and I confided in each other about our fantasies-especially the ones involving Denise. Remembering them now, they were only vaguely sexual, but they led my sister and I to discover masturbation together, nonetheless. But as we grew older and Jenna’s fantasies centered more around wanting to be touched by boys, I still lingered over visions of being touched by Denise, of spreading myself open for her, of having my mouth between her legs, and being overpowered by her. To the point where I fantasized that Denise was something like her father-that she would beat me with a belt, then expose and humiliate me and make me have orgasms in spite of myself. These were the disturbing fantasies that I couldn’t bring myself to confide to anyone. Not even Jenna, who was usually laying right there beside me in the dark as the tormenting fantasies unfolded in my head.

One month before she was to graduate St. Christopher’s, something scandalous happened to Denise. I was only thirteen at the time and the significance of the vague rumor I’d heard went over my head, but it involved Denise and some other catholic girl in the shower of the school’s locker room, and Denise getting kicked out of school. I did know that Mr. Dominic beat Denise so badly for being expelled from school only one month before graduation, that she moved out of the house and took an apartment of her own on the other side of town. I didn’t see Denise again for seven more years. And when I did see her, it couldn’t have been under more jolting circumstances.

It was right after I dropped out of college and went back to stay temporarily with my parents. I already knew I was gay-there were no doubts left about that-but finding a suitable lover was proving to be elusive. My first night home was a Friday and I decided to check out the sole dyke bar in town, The Jack of Hearts. An unassuming, unmarked, windowless dark hole off a side street in the heart of the old warehouse district.

It was literally only a matter of moments before I spotted her sitting at the bar. She was a lot older than the last time I’d seen her, but I knew it was Denise. I wanted her more than ever. She looked gorgeous, menacing, so grown up-everything I’d longed for in a female. Her black hair was chopped short. She looked lean and wiry in a black button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up, a pair of blue jeans, and black combat boots on her feet. She was smoking a cigarette while she nursed a beer. My agenda fell together in my head quickly. First I would try to buy a drink without being carded, since I was still several months underage; next I would get up enough nerve to say hello to Denise.

I got past the first hurdle effortlessly. But just as I was getting up my nerve to walk over to where Denise was sitting alone at the bar, the incredibly femme girl who came out of the bathroom and then sat down beside Denise, slipping an arm in hers, turned out-to my horror-to be my little sister.

“Jill!” she practically squealed noticing me right away. “What are you doing here?”

In as few words as possible, I managed to tell her I’d dropped out of school and had moved back home that very afternoon.

“You remember Den Dominic, don’t you, Jill? Denny-you remember my sister Jill, don’t you?” Jenna looked at me as if she would burst with delight. “Denny and I are living together now,” she gushed. “We have a cute little rental on the other side of the hill, off Main Street. You’ve got to come visit!”

I thought I was going to be sick. “Den” extended her hand to me. “Hey, Jill,” she said. “Of course I remember you.”

I shook her hand, looking into her dark eyes. “Hey,” I choked. And I had nothing left to say after that. The electricity that shot through my bowels from simply shaking her hand made me so envious of my sister I couldn’t speak. I left the Jack of Hearts shortly after that, half-heartedly promising that I would visit them sometime over the weekend.

Alone in my bed that night-the bed I once shared with my little sister-my jealousy festered. It was clear our parents had no inkling either one of us was gay. I lay awake plotting childish revenge. I’d spill the beans at the breakfast table the following morning: “You two are so blind; can’t you see that Jenna’s gay?! She’s living in sin with that dyke Denise Dominic!” But in my heart of hearts, I knew that if the tables were turned my sister would never stoop to betraying me. I managed to keep my mouth shut the following morning, and then swallow my pride and drive out to my sister’s house that afternoon.

Now, in hindsight, I can’t decide if that was the best thing I ever did, or the worst.

I found their little house easily and pulled my car into their driveway. The house seemed closed up, as if no one was home. Maybe they weren’t awake yet? But I rang the bell anyway.

It was Den who opened the door. She was wide-awake. She looked even more incredible than she’d looked the night before. She was wearing the same combat boots and blue jeans, but now she had on a tight white muscle shirt, which showed off her well-developed arms. Her breasts were small and taut, her nipples hard and easily discernable through the thin cotton fabric. She wore a small silver ring in one ear and had an unassuming tattoo on her right forearm. A lit cigarette was jammed into the corner of her mouth. She opened the screen door slightly and stuck her head out. “Hey, Jill,” she said, taking the cigarette out of her mouth and staring at me.

She didn’t move aside, ask me to come in, or make me feel welcome in any way. I hadn’t anticipated that so I just stood there stupidly and stared back at her. But what she said next was even more disarming.

“Jenna’s being punished. She’s been bad. She can’t really have visitors right now.”

Her words were so unexpected; it seemed to take an eternity for them to even register.

“Your sister’s a little tramp, you know that, Jill?” she finally continued as the cigarette went back into her mouth. “She made daddy very angry today so she had to learn her lesson and then she got sent to her room. She’s being punished-is there something about this you’re not grasping, Jill? You have a weird look on your face.”

I knew I had to be blushing crimson by then. I was so filled with embarrassment, envy, lust. The whole scenario seemed to be dawning on me in rapid progression: Den was “daddy” and Jenna, the lucky bitch, was being taught a lesson-maybe even the hard way. I tried to pull my gaze away from Den’s penetrating stare, but wound up focusing on her hard nipples instead. It instantly made matters worse in the envy and lust department and I knew that all of it was registering on my face.

“You wanna come in for a beer?” she asked suddenly, looking down at her watch. “Your sister’s probably been punished long enough. I’ll check on her in a minute and see if she’s ready to behave.”

I think I was secretly hoping Jenna would refuse to stop doing whatever it was she’d done so that I could get a little more time alone with Den. I followed Den into the kitchen and she handed me a beer. She stood blocking the doorway, making it impossible for me to stand anywhere in the tiny kitchen except uncomfortably close to her.

“Well, Jill, you certainly have grown since the last time I babysat you.”

“Yes,” I answered as casually as I could, secretly thanking god that she was still a little taller than I was. It helped nurture my meager fantasy. Even though I was still disbelieving that my sister was actually gay, I knew I could never make a play for anyone she was involved with, no matter how badly I wished I had it in me to do just that.

Den stubbed out her cigarette. “What were you doing in the Jack of Hearts last night anyway; looking for love or just a reasonable facsimile?”

“I don’t know. Either one, I guess.”

“So you’ve dropped out of school, huh?”

“Yes,” I replied, taking a sip of beer.

“You’re very pretty, you know that?”

She’d caught me off guard.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you embarrassed to be so pretty?”

“No,” I laughed lamely.

“I always knew you were going to grow up to be very pretty. Jenna’s pretty, too, but in that over the top, super-femme way, you know? You-I can tell you wake up pretty. You just roll out of bed and look gorgeous, don’t you?”

I felt like I was running a sudden fever.

She looked at her watch again. “Should we check on the brat now? I think she’s been punished enough.”

Not knowing what else to do, I followed Den to the stairway that led up to the small bedrooms. She stepped aside and said, “Beauty first,” then followed a little too close behind me as I went upstairs. I could feel her eyes taking me in, checking me out.

At the top of the stairs, she passed me and said quietly in my face, “You have a great ass, you know that? I think it runs in your family.” Then she put a finger to her lips and mouthed, “shhh,” while opening the bedroom door.

I wasn’t expecting to see what I saw. I couldn’t believe it was my sister.

“Hey brat, are you ready to behave?” Den asked as she entered the room. “A word of warning: we have company.”

A blindfolded Jenna protested vainly through the ball that was wedged securely in her mouth and laced with a cord that was tied behind the back of her head. I didn’t see the ball at first because Jenna was bent over a tall bar stool, her hair hanging down in her face. Her arms were outstretched; her wrists tied securely to two of the stool’s legs and her ample tits looked uncomfortably heavy, hanging upside down from her bird-like rib cage. She had on a pair of painfully high heels whose ankle straps were attached to the other two legs of the stool. Other than the shoes, she was naked. She had a tattoo on her butt that I’d never seen before and her legs were spread just enough to see that her pussy was completely shaved. Something was stuck in her ass but from where I was standing, I couldn’t tell what it was; I could only tell it was huge. And she had bright red stripes across her backside, clear down her skinny thighs.

“These are what started the whole brouhaha,” Den announced, as her fingers retrieved a pair of pink lace panties that had been stuffed inside my sister’s vagina.

Jenna groaned only slightly as the panties were pulled out, but when the huge plug was pulled out of her ass next, she grunted hoarsely as if she were in pain.

My heart was racing. I was torn between feeling sorry for my sister-wanting to bolt before she could find out it was me standing there and realize what I’d seen-and feeling utter contempt for her because I was still jealous as hell. If it had been anybody but Denise Dominic, I would have fled.

Den unstrapped my sister’s shoes, releasing her ankles from the stool’s legs, then untied her wrists. When she slipped the blindfold from Jenna’s face, Den grabbed a handful of my sister’s hair, lifted her up by it and said; “Look who’s here.”

It was then that I saw the ball in her mouth.

The blood had been rushing to her head for I didn’t know how long, so it was hard to tell if she was actually embarrassed or not, but it was obvious that my sister was stunned to see me. She was unsteady on her feet when her body was finally righted all the way. She collapsed down on the bed and kicked off her shoes. She unwedged the ball from her mouth as she stared up warily at Den, who stood over her and said, “You want the panties now? Huh? How ‘bout it, tough girl? You want to test me again?”

I had lived with my little sister long enough to know how she behaved when she’d been seriously punished, and the way she shamefacedly replied, “no,” to all of Den’s questions made me wonder just what the heck had been going on between them. Had it been some kind of a sex scene that they’d both gotten off on, or had Jenna just been incredibly abused?

Den picked up a pair of scissors that were lying on the dresser, cut the lace panties in two and dropped them into a wastebasket.

On her way out the bedroom door, she winked at me, grabbed hold of my arm and said, “Are you ready for another beer?”

I didn’t feel right leaving Jenna alone like that-especially since I wasn’t sure what had happened. “Maybe I should stay with her,” I said.

Den stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at me. “Why? She’s okay. She’s just gonna jump in the shower. She’ll be down in a minute.”

I felt more confused than ever.

Then Den seemed to notice the look of concern that must have been on my face. “Hey,” she said. “What’s going on with you? You don’t think I’d ever hurt either one of you girls, do you? Come on, now. It’s just sex. Let’s get you another beer. I promise you, your sister’s okay.”

Like the proverbial yo-yo, the fact that Den had even remotely included me in that statement jerked me right back to feeling hot for her again. I followed her into the kitchen for my next beer, noticing that this time she also took a bottle for herself. Once again, she stood in front of the doorway, keeping me at an uncomfortable disadvantage. I couldn’t kid myself anymore-I liked it.

“I’m sorry that whole scene upset you, Jill. I was just playing.”

“I wasn’t upset,” I spluttered, “I guess, well, I just never expected to see my little sister like that. I never dreamed she was into that stuff.”

“She’s not, really,” Den said matter-of-factly. “She’s just trying it out. Experimenting, you know? She wanted to me by lover so I’m letting her be my lover-for as long as she can take it. But she’s not exactly a natural, by any means.”

“Oh,” I replied a little hopefully, in lieu of saying what I was fully thinking.

“Hey,” she said, moving a little closer toward me. “What are you doing this afternoon? Why don’t you stick around? We have some friends coming over.” Then to my complete amazement, her hand went under my shirt, expertly found my nipple, even though it was safely hidden inside my bra and pinched it. “Don’t worry about your sister,” she said quietly. “It’s not love, Jill. She’s just killing time. You’ll see.”

I wanted to kiss her but nothing in her expression looked like she would allow it. She seemed content to pinch my nipple, tug on it through my bra and watch approvingly as my pelvis began to writhe. “You always were the one who behaved. Look at you. You never gave me any trouble.”

By the time my sister came downstairs, Den and I were sitting like normal people on the couch in their living room. Even though I was in a veritable swoon and not really aware of anything but my hormones galloping through my body, I somehow managed to make what sounded to me like reasonable conversation. Although, because of my guilty conscience, it was hard to look my sister in the eye anymore, I noticed that she seemed to be having just as much trouble looking directly at me, so I didn’t feel quite so bad. And when their other friends arrived and the liquor began to flow, I saw with my own eyes what Den had said earlier about Jenna-she was a little tramp; planting herself in another woman’s lap and making out with her in front of all of us.

It was then that I saw Den motion to me with her head to follow her upstairs. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I really couldn’t believe it was happening to me. We weren’t even halfway up the stairs-we were just barely out of sight-when Den pulled me up to the step above of hers. “Take down your pants,” she said.

“What?”

“You heard me. I said take down your pants. Come on, I wanna see your ass.”

I did as she asked. With fumbling fingers, I quickly unzipped my jeans and lowered them down my thighs, tugging my panties down after them.

“Good girl,” she whispered, grabbing me around my waist and pulling my naked ass up against her crotch. She reached down between my slippery labia, dipping into the wetness and sliding it all over my clitoris. I moaned. I couldn’t help myself. Her teeth sank lightly into my shoulder. “You smell so good,” she said quietly, sweeping aside my hair, her nose taking in my scent. “Kneel down for me, okay? Do it right now.”

She let go of my waist and I knelt down on the stairs, tilting my ass up to her. She pushed my cheeks open wide and planted her mouth right on my asshole, her tongue coaxing the hole to relax and open for her. When it did, her finger slid up my ass and her mouth moved down to my swollen clit, sucking it in between her lips. It felt incredible-mostly because I couldn’t believe it was Denise Dominic. Finally.

She stood up abruptly and practically dragged me up the stairs. “Come on,” she said, “let’s get naked. Let’s do this right.” She pulled me into the bedroom with her and locked the door behind us.

I stripped out of my clothes and watched her strip out of hers. Her body was immaculate. Lean, muscular-perfect. But when she turned her back to me, I gasped. Her ass and upper thighs were covered in scars. “What happened to you?”

She shrugged as she strapped on a dildo. “The scars? A gift from my father, from when I got kicked out of school.”

“Jesus,” I cried under my breath.

“Yeah,” was all she said, taking me by the arm and directing me toward the window.

I wasn’t sure what she wanted then.

“Up against the glass. Come on, you know. Your tits; put them up against the window.”

“But it’s still light out,” I replied incredulously. “People will see.”

“Do it for daddy, come on. I get off on it.”

I watched her slather the fake dick up with lube. I got a funny feeling I knew where she was planning to put it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to take that huge cock up my ass right in front of the window.

Den looked at me, rubbing even more lube onto the cock. “Come on, Jill,” she said. “Do it for daddy. Make me happy. I don’t want to have to beg. It makes me angry to have to beg and then there’s no telling what we’re liable to get into.”

I thought of my sister battened down over the barstool; an even larger tool wedged into her ass. I went over to the window and did as she said, pressing my tits up against the cold glass. Den was right behind me, her slippery hands prying me open, pushing the head of the tool into my tight hole. It felt enormous. I wanted to cry out.

“Don’t,” she encouraged me. “You’re a big girl now, you can take it. I know you can. It hurts a little, I know, but soon you’ll be begging me to fuck you like a dog, you know it.”

I did know it. I tried to relax and take it all the way up without flinching. In a matter of moments she was fucking me savagely, stuffing my ass. It felt so good. I was oblivious to being in front of the window, my tits pressed flat against it, in full view of anyone who might happen to walk down the street. “Oh yeah,” I was ranting, “fuck me.”

After a few minutes, she pulled me away from the window and tossed me onto the bed.  “Come on,” she said. “Beg me. Beg me to fuck you like a dog.”

“Fuck me like a dog,” I begged, assuming all fours as she mounted me, the dildo pushing into me again, filling my ass; stretching me open all the way.

“Louder than that. Beg like you mean it.”

“Fuck me like a dog,” I cried, as she pumped into me hard. “Fuck me like a dog!”“That’s right, Jill. Who’s your daddy?” she asked, slapping my ass.

“You’re my daddy.”

“I can’t hear you,” she said, slapping me again, her hips increasing their rhythm almost viciously-I had to hold onto the bed.

“You’re my daddy,” I cried desperately. “Fuck me like a dog, daddy.”

“That’s good. That’s right. That’s what I like to hear.” She ploughed her full weight into me, toppling me over, but we stayed coupled; my asshole impaled. She lay on top of me, catching her breath, her breasts flat against my back. She smoothed my hair away from the side of my face and her mouth found my ear. “Who’s your daddy?”

“You are,” I panted.  I couldn’t remember ever feeling so completely aroused.

“You want your ass to belong to daddy? You want your pussy to belong to daddy?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, I want that.”

“Show me how bad you want it, Jill. What are you going to do for daddy?” She eased the dildo out of my ass, lifted her weight off me and waited.

I didn’t have a clue what she might have wanted me to do. I acted on impulse. I turned over, faced her, pulled her down on to me and kissed her mouth ravenously; wrapping my arms and legs around her tight, getting her as close to me as I could.

She kissed me back for several seemingly eternal moments. When we came up for air, I couldn’t help myself. “I love you, Denise,” I said.

It was clear she wasn’t accustomed to being called Denise anymore. I was afraid I might have spoiled the moment.

“I know you love me,” she said. “Your sister told me.”

I suddenly felt like an idiot. “She told you? When?”

“A while back; when she and I first started going out. Hey,” she said. “Come on, relax. We’re here now and it’s working, right? Let’s just see where it takes us.”

But where could it possibly take us as long as she was still living with my sister?

 “Just let Jenna play out,” she said. “Girls like her always move on. She can’t handle me and she knows it. What about you-you think you can handle me?”

“Yes,” I answered, not entirely truthfully.

“You sure about that, Jill? I’m a mean motherfucker when I want to be. I’m a tough daddy; I learned from a pro. He was the meanest motherfucker on the block.”

“I know,” I said, looking up into her face and catching a glimpse of a different kind of darkness, hiding at the edges of her eyes. Part of Mr. Dominic was in there somewhere. The full impact of it made my heart race: she was actually dangerous.

“If you behave, daddy’s going to be good to you, Jill. But if you play with me, I’ll mess you up. You’re saying you can handle that?”

“Yes,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing; wondering how well I would fare on the day she decided to snap.

“Then we’re good to go,” she said, getting off me, her feet finding the floor. Then she grabbed a handful of my hair. Guiding me off the bed, she said, “On your knees, honey. Be good to daddy, now.”

I positioned myself between her legs and tried to reposition the dildo so that I could get at her clit.

“No, no, no,” she corrected me, putting the dildo back in place and pressing the head of it against my lips. “Do it the way the Dominics do it; be a good girl for daddy.”

I took the huge fake cock into my mouth and let her find her own rhythm with it-working it in and out. I held to her legs as her fist held tight to my hair and a chill ran through me. “That’s right,” she chanted. “That’s right, honey. Be good to daddy and daddy is going to eat you up. Daddy is going to give it to you the way his little girl likes it. Just as long as you behave.”

And even though I was writhing over every exquisite minute of surrendering to Denise Dominic at last, I had a sick feeling down in my belly that her own daddy, the formidable Mr. Dominic-the meanest motherfucker on the block-was even meaner than he’d looked and probably should have been shot. “Do it the way the Dominics do it,” Denise had said, forcing me to suck her cock as she had probably learned long ago. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

Copyright © 2001 by Marilyn Jaye Lewis

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