Chapter 6: Sunday & Monday - Organ Grinding (Recorded & New) & Ave Maria
We managed to get clear of the mall and back home with time to spare – time enough, even, for my daily hot shower (including flush 'n lube cycles) and a kiss for Daddy, before I hustled my ass onto my charge base.
* * *
When I switched back on, it was late Sunday night, and Daddy was too tired for more than a half-hour quickie on the kitchen table. He was pretty gloomy, too. Well, fair enough. We tried to believe everything was great, and maybe it was, but he had only just found my corpse the day before. And it (or I, if you prefer) was literally stiff - he'd managed to mislay me for over a day, which must have been somewhat embarrassing. Plus, tomorrow he had to make arrangements for my funeral. Both of us were still trying to wrap our heads around that idea. We went upstairs and snuggled until nearly midnight, and then Daddy fell asleep.
Lying cozy beside him for a while, I wondered about Adele Two. She was programmed to believe she was the real deal. Was I, too? Programmed that way, I mean. I knew I was currently a machine - unlike Adele Two who, despite my broad hints, still considered it normal for some girls to have servo-motor components and batteries. But I also thought I'd previously been Tracie. Was that just my software talking?
The idea freaked me out. I slipped out of Daddy's bed and wandered comfortably naked around the house for a while. By now I had a handle on accidentally triggering a recorded Lacy session. I had to want it, and even then I had a brief chance to back out. So it was safe to look around. Everything – everything – looked more than just familiar. Most of it had some sort of story attached: when it was bought, or how it had acquired that deep scratch (the one on the piano was me, when I'd lost control on my roller blades). Point for my side, but unfortunately it didn't prove squat.
What I finally decided was, fuck this existential shit. Like it or not, I pretty much had to go with the flow. I certainly felt like Tracie – so maybe it didn't really matter.
On that note, I decided to search out a recorded Lacy-fuck I hadn't experienced yet (or at least my Tracie-self hadn't). But when I walked past the fireplace, I just had to start with a re-run of "French Maid with Feather Duster". Reaching up to the mantle, I immediately feel Daddy's cock driving up my ass. I also felt the heat on my belly from the suddenly materialized fire in the hearth, and likewise the heat of his shaft inside me, as I braced myself to enthusiastically meet his thrusts. He had a firm grip of the leather bustiere enclosing my rib cage, and after a solid five minutes of shagging, he stopped - while fully engaged - and said, "Feet up, girl."
He swung me a half turn around as I obeyed, so that I now held my thigh-high, spike heeled boots (my only other garment) straight out in front of us. Then he just stood there, warming his bare bum at the fire and allowing me to catch my breath (figuratively), while I settled just that little bit more onto his throbbing member.
Soon enough I felt my already grasping tunnel go into overdrive as my first orgasm swept though me. And still Daddy held me steady although, to be exact, it was his cock that held me up, while his warm hands lightly kept me stable. I had no trouble holding that odd pose because, robot. Even so, my second and third cums were making it hard to concentrate, so that at the peak of each, my excited pussy squirted girl-juice onto the rug.
It was just after Big 'O' number three that he marched me behind the sofa, folded me forward over the back of the thing, and began humping me until at last I felt the flood of his sperm-laden cum. After we'd relaxed, he leaned forward over me and kissed my neck, before extracting himself from my backside. Remaining slumped where I'd been deposited, I heard Daddy positively snicker before he slipped the handle of the duster (which he must have scooped from the sofa cushions) up my well-lubed back channel.
And then the room was quiet again, the fire was off, and Daddy was gone - and so was the duster. I stretched, then giggled myself - if I wanted to know how my old man talked his way out of that stunt, I would have to ask him. That reminded me – when this was recorded, the not-yet-dead me was sleeping downstairs. Sheesh!
A little wobbly, I went to the breakfast room and poked around - I still couldn't seem to bring up the index folder I'd seen the day ... well, the day Tracie 1.0 had died. After turning a lap around the heavy oak trestle table, I stopped in front of the mirror - and abruptly saw my reflection now wearing that trampy schoolgirl-Lacy costume, lit up by the morning sun shining in the window. I was also wearing the black leather collar I'd worn that first day, the leash hanging down between my barely contained breasts. And I had lifted my skirt hem with my left hand, so as to better see the right one as I pulled aside the crotch of my thong and slipped three fingers between my pussy lips.
Oh, and Daddy was standing behind me, his bathrobe open, watching me frigging in the mirror.
It wasn't long before I leaned forward, head against the glass, to ride out my self-induced orgasm. That's the stuff, I thought. Then I stood upright and made eye contact with Daddy.
He grinned, and stepped close behind me, so that his cock folded up between my butt cheeks ... and up my back. Then he reached around me and took over, massaging and spreading the inside of my cunnie with a finger of each hand. And then two, and three ... at which point I could feel his fleshy truncheon tremble, and deposit a bit of pre-cum leakage in the small of my back ... and I was over the moon again.
This time I slumped back against Daddy and his stiff woody, to ride it out. My orgasm, that is - he didn't put his tool in me, and he didn't cum on my back. He just held me gently until my shaking stopped, and then dropped his robe onto the floor and asked, "Would you like to go for a walk, Tracy?"
My uniform had already clued me in that this was to be one of Lacy's performances as me. God only knows where I was – maybe this was that day Daddy had given me fifty bucks to blow with Adele at the mall. At any rate, I (or, more exactly, Lacy) said, "Yes, Please, Daddy!" Whereupon I pulled off my clothes, tossed them in the corner, and dropped onto all fours.
I hadn't seen that coming, even after the leash play (also on that first day). These two were full of surprises! Lacy then lifted me up onto my fingers and toes, thereby forming a posture mildly reminiscent of a dog's. I walked like that to Daddy's side, and he leaned down to secure a butt plug in my ass, which fitted me out with a plumed retriever's tail.
I gave Daddy a joyful poke in the crotch with my nose, and then he picked up his end of the leash and led me through the house. Walking like that was way more comfortable than I expected – I found myself cavorting along beside him. Briefly, I thought we were going to go out the front door, but we circled around and out the back. There he unhooked my lead and had me chase a tennis ball, and bring it back in my teeth. Geez - I even wagged my tail! After two retrievals, I ran around with the ball, still on all fours, just out of his reach. He chased me and, having let myself be cornered, I finally spat the thing out and crouched with my ass high in the air in his general direction.
This, at last, was the part of the game I was hoping for, where Daddy became the alpha-male dog and I his bitch. I swung my tail invitingly to one side. And then he was on me, pressing me down even though his arms supported most of his weight, while he prodded my undercarriage with his rigid cock, seeking out my hungry cunt.
When he felt that leaking entry, he drove home – and, rather than scream out, I let out a convincing howl. To be honest, I had no idea how dogs did it. It was enough that he fucked me hard and long. We hunkered together in the angle between two little rose bushes where I had been brought to bay ... under the meager shade of a little ornamental cherry tree, out in the middle of our back yard.
In the event, Lacy knew at least one thing about dog sex. Just as I could feel Daddy was about to cum, she clamped down hard at the base of him. He couldn't thrust, but he came all the same, his jizz forcing its way past the obstruction and flooding inside me. Even as he spurted great gouts of the stuff, my own orgasm hit, and I howled again. I did not, however, release my inner grip on him. Instead I growled. He was still damn hard, and the mass of his cock and cum inside me was delightful.
We crouched there, locked together, for ten minutes more. Eventually, Daddy whispered, "Okay, Tracy," and I let him go. He climbed off, lifted me into a drooling, cum-leaking bundle and carried me back inside. Having lugged me back to the breakfast room, he sat down on the armchair by the door, with me curled all cozy in his lap. Even though Lacy was basically pretending to sleep, the recording continued to play. After a bit, he set me on my feet and had me put the goofy school uniform shirt back on; meanwhile he wrapped himself in his fuzzy robe.
The big finish turned out to feature me leaning on the sill of the wide-open window
with Daddy leaning out almost on top of me ... so as to fuck me from behind, while we watched Mrs. Ellis's hot young gardener Tony trimming the top of the hedge between our houses. The layout is such that he was clipping away (old-school, by hand) only a few feet lower than us. We were looking almost right across at him, but Pop kept toiling away in my still sloshy cunt. Luckily, owing to the relative lack of friction, I wasn't visibly bouncing - much - so Tony didn't really pay us much attention until Daddy gave me an extra hard stroke of his cock somewhere past where my uterus used to be, and I let out a startled squeak.
