I gave Paul more than a hand job...

Ashley sighs deeply. "I-I thanked Paul for bringing me my homework by giving a hand job. This is the second time. The blackmailer, he told me to do it."

You reach out and touch her face to comfort her. "It's okay, Ash, I know. He told me. I'm sorry you had to do that."

"Oh my gosh, Daddy, I'm so embarrassed. You must think I'm a slut."

She places a hand over yours keeping your palm on her cheek. You continue to reassure her. "Babygirl, it's okay, he's making us both do things that we wouldn't normally do."

"H-have you done anything beyond what he's asked? I mean, besides what happened in the porn booth?"

Your silent, unsure how to answer.

"...because, Daddy, I gave Paul a blow job. I didn't mean to at first, but I was on my knees, stroking his cock, and..."

She fidgets in the bed. "...and I thought about the glory hole and how fun it was to..."

There's a pause. Your cock is rock hard thinking about the booth and your daughter on her knees with Paul.

"...I was so consumed with neediness from all of the edging..."

She turns her head and kisses the palm of your hand. "...I needed it in my mouth, so I took it and Paul couldn't control it and had an orgasm so quickly and he shot it all over my face." She kisses down to your wrist. "Daddy, I'm sorry I'm being so bad. I don't know why I keep losing control."

You close your eyes, struggling with your willpower. "It's, it's okay. We're in a difficult situation. We're almost out of this. Only two more nights. You just need to try harder to have self-control." You aren't sure if you said that for her or for the both of you.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, no, of course not. I'm proud of you. Considering everything you've been through I'm impressed by how well you're handling itself. Anyway, we should get some sleep."

"Okay, but first hugs and kisses!" She says sliding in and wrapping her arms around you. She presses her entire body against yours, squishing your cock against her thigh. Her lips easily find yours in the dark. She lingers. Her lips pressing against your lips in a standoff of "who's going to lose their self-control first."

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