April Enslaved Ch. 02bykellie_green_eyes©
[Author's Note: This series is a work of fiction. None of the acts described below happened, and this series is in no way an endorsement of the type of relationship depicted here. I am interested in some of the darker corners of sexual fantasy and I explore them in my imagination only for gratification and to satisfy my curiosities.
If you don't enjoy a fairly hardcore nonconsent story, please consider reading my other submissions. In any case, though, I welcome and appreciate feedback, comments, suggestions, and questions. Thanks for reading!]
I wake up after a fitful hour or two of deep sleep.
Dad's got one arm around my shoulder. A big muscular leg is wrapped around my two delicate ones. He's snoring softly. I decide to try to unwrap his limbs from my body so that I can get up. Get up and ....what? Take a shower? Leave the house? Call the authorities? I wasn't sure.
As I slip out from under, him, though, I feel his hand grip my arm. "Wait just a minute, angel." I freeze, afraid of what may happen next.
"Tell me what we just did. On your bed. And then you can go. I won't dominate all day, every day, much as I'd want to just own that little hot body of yours every minute I'm awake. But you deserve your space, too. For being a good little...well...what? I want you to say it. What'd did we do this morning, on your bed?"
His other hand grabs a fistful of my hair, causing me to gasp, and pulls me to him. "We fucked, what?"
"We- we fucked, daddy."
He licks the side of my face slowly. "And where did daddy cum?"
"Daddy came in my mouth."
He releases my hair, and lifts his leg off of my body.
"Good girl. You're free to go. You're free for the day."
* * *
He kept his word. He didn't so much as put a hand on my shoulder that day, or the next, or for four days. Life seemed to return to normal. The family ate dinner together, and talked about our day, and everyone lived their lives the rest of the day. Dad didn't treat me differently -- he was his usual bossy self, but that wasn't unusual.
All his behavior was normal -- he doted on my sisters, helped them with advice about applying to college and picking them up from piano lessons. And he was alternately sweet and mean to Mom, which, again, was just part of his personality, and a typical feature of their relationship.
I'd thought he'd forgotten the whole thing -- and I sure wasn't going to bring it up. Until - one evening, at about 9:15 pm, a while after dinner, I was watching a movie with Traci and Sarah. We were in the living room; they were on the sofa, and I was on a love seat. I was engrossed in the movie, The Libertine, starring Johnny Depp, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I looked to see, and Dad leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Laundry room, two minutes."
"Huh?" I said.
He stared at my eyes, then moved his eyes down my body. Looked at my eyes again. My shoulders drooped. "But we've got 30 minutes left in this movie," I whispered.
He whispered again, saying each word slowly. "I don't ask twice. Two minutes. Downstairs. On your knees."
He walked away. I turned my face back to the tv and bit my lip as I felt tears rising to my eyes. I heard my dad's footsteps tap across the kitchen tile, open the door that led downstairs to our finished basement, at the far end of which was a little enclosed laundry room.
"What's up?" Traci asked. "You look a little flushed. Should we pause the movie?"
"No, no," I said, waving away the idea. "I just have this migraine coming on. You guys finish the movie. I'll -- I'm going to my room. Being in a dark, silent room is what I need right now."
I got up, leaving them there to enjoy the movie, jealous of their freedom. Which, I remembered, I was protecting. By giving myself to Daddy, he was pledged to leave them alone. Daddy was mean. He was domineering. He could be brutal sometimes. But he was no liar.
This is what I thought as my quivering legs carried my body down the wooden steps. I could see the faint light coming from across the way, where the light was on in the laundry room.
I noticed immediately that the washer and dryer were running, giving a lot of cover to any noise we might make. There was a pit in my stomach that felt like it was drawing me in. I entered the laundry room.
Daddy was wearing jeans, and, it seemed, nothing else. His shirt was off, revealing his tan, muscular body. He was barefoot.
"You look so fucking good, angel. I've held back for days, but I can't stop myself from wanting to use your whole body again."
I stepped into the room. "Shut the door behind you," I heard him say, and felt a palm on my cheek, fingers curled under my chin.
"I told mom I was going to do some laundry down here while I studied for the MCSE. I mentioned that you had left to visit a friend. So, we're covered."
I swallowed nervously. He was whispering hoarsely as his hands wandered down the length of my arms and through my hair. "It's even hotter this way, huh, with the whole family at home, right above us, but none the wiser, as Daddy has his way with his hottest little daughter."
The shock of him pulling me away from the movie was intensified by the fact that he'd left me alone for days since fucking me in my bedroom. "Daddy, couldn't you wait until--"
Slap! A firm, not too hard, open hand met my cheek, which was followed by a thumb in my mouth.
"Swirl your tongue around my thumb while I explain the rules again." I did as I was told, feeling his power over me.
"You have a sexy and tight little body. Thin little waist. Round, firm ass. Tits that ride high on your chest. That you show off in tight tops. All that turns daddy into an animal, and your my slave. In return, no one else gets my attention, and I won't even bother you every day."
He removed his thumb from my mouth, put his hands on my hips, and spun me around, groping my body over my clothes. I was wearing a tight green short-sleeve top and denim skirt.
"But when I want it, you respond without question. Got it?"
"Yes, daddy," I said weakly.
"There are other rules, which I will explain to you and you will obey. But now, the first thing daddy wants to do is slip my dick into that hot little wet mouth."
When I turned and got on my knees, he pulled my hands on the front of his jeans and I understood this to mean that I was to take his pants down. He was already extremely hard and excited and so it was difficult to lower his zipper, open the button, and tug the jeans down over his bulge.
When I got passed his crotch, his dick sprung free, and he was so excited that I felt his hands on the back of my head and felt my face pulled toward his hard flesh, his jeans still gathered in a bunch at his knees.
"Oh April your face is fucking adorable I just have to rub my dick all over it." He said. And he was just mashing my face against his dick, and against his balls, as he said, "oh yes, oh yes, oh fuck yeah. You see how hard and nasty you made me?"
"What do you see there?"
"That your dick is really hard."
"That's right. Now, reach behind you and grab hold of each ankle. There... that's a good girl. Now lick your lips and open that sweet mouth."
I did as I was told. It felt so humiliating being on my knees, in the laundry room, in this secret place, with my dad having this hold over me. He slipped just the tip of his dick into my mouth. It felt warm, almost hot, and just a little bit slick already. It was firm but slightly giving, like an almost ripe plum.
"Swirl that pink tongue all around it, April."
It did and he moaned and moaned, and he tensed his hips and moved them slightly. But he refrained from sliding more of his dick into my mouth, which was kind of small.
"Good girl. Oh god, you are a good girl. So good. Your mouth is so sweet."
He had gathered a fistful of my hair. After a few minutes, he pulled the tip out of my mouth and asked me to purse my lips. Then he rubbed the tip all over them, holding his dick with one hand and my hair in the other. He tapped his dick over my face a few times -- on my nose, on each cheek, on my forehead -- before telling me to open my mouth again.
This time he slid his dick in pretty deeply, causing me to release my ankles and flinch away from him. He actually apologized, telling me he just couldn't help giving a hard stroke to my mouth.
"Now let's get that top off," he said, as he began lifting my shirt off. After it came off, he told me to undo my bra, which I did as he finished taking his jeans off.
Before I knew it, his mouth was on one of my breasts, sucking my nipple and flicking his tongue all over it. It got hard involuntarily and I was ashamed about it, but there was nothing nothing I could do.
"You have such amazing tits, April. Time I fucked 'em again." And with that, his super hard and swollen cock was in between my tits. "Look down and open your mouth, my little slut. My dick enters your mouth with each upstroke. Oh yes, baby, just like that. Oh god that's so fucking good!"
After a few minutes of this, he pulled away, lifted my chin with his hand, and kissed me deeply, his tongue filling my mouth.
"This is working out beautifully, angel. Now it's time for something else. My balls are so full of cum for you, and they're ready to be licked. Are you ready for that?"
I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say. There was a slight tug on my hair followed by a moderate slap to my face.
"Yes, daddy," I gasped, "I'm ready for your cum."
"Not yet, sweet thing, I was asking you about my balls. Now, lay down."
I did as I was told, laying down on the thick carpeting of the laundry room. Daddy straddled my face, and slowly lowered his balls to my mouth. He told me to bathe them with my tongue, to give them a very wet sucking.
As I did, he explained several rules to me:
1. Whenever he grunted that he was about to cum, I was to scramble out of whatever position we were in and clamp my mouth around the tip of his cock.
2. After his cum entered my mouth, I was to hold it there for a moment before slowly dripping it onto my tits.
3. Whenever he tapped me on my shoulder, I was to meet him in the laundry room in two minutes, no questions or objections.
4. Whenever he came up behind me and massaged my shoulders, no matter what I was doing or what plans I had, I was to follow him to the car and go wherever he wanted to take me.
5. He wanted to know about my state of arousal. I was to tell him whenever my pussy started to get wet -- and if I failed, I would be punished. If he said the words "Wet now?" I was to immediately part my legs and pull my panties to the side, whereupon he would touch my lips. If they were wet, and I hadn't told him I was getting wet, I would be getting five hard slaps to the face, followed by a gagging and rough blowjob, at the soonest available time.
These were the rules he spelled out in between moans of pleasure and encouragement as I bathed his balls with my tongue and my saliva, his very hard dick bobbing obscenely right about my face as I nudged it occasionally with my nose.
Finally he said, "Goddamn it, April, it's time to fuck. Daddy's gonna explode soon."
With that, I was told to get on my hands and knees. He lowered my denim skirt down, and then my panties, both only down to just above my knees. With my round ass in the air, the smooth white flesh stretched over my round cheeks, I felt daddy bite into them softly. Each nibble of my cheeks made me quiver slightly and gasp a soft 'ooh.' His hands were massaging my thighs and my calves tenderly. He told me how amazing my ass was and that he couldn't believe he was sitting here enjoying it to the hilt.
He asked me little questions about my ass, and I answered them, but when, all of a sudden, he plunged his tongue deep into my pussy, I was no longer able to hear -- or maybe, understand -- much of what he said. I felt like I was underwater.
All the humiliation, all the demands he'd made of me, seemed to melt away, and it seemed for a moment like I was getting my reward for being good. For being well-behaved. For responding to the control.
And as his tongue worked in little circles all over my pink lips, which were now slick with wetness, I felt like all the tension that had knotted itself in my stomach, in my core being, during the humiliating parts of this episode -- all that was melting away in wave after wave of relief.
He ate my pussy for I don't know how long, but I couldn't help, toward the end of it, moaning softly and grinding my hips. When he stopped, I became aware of the fact that my face, turned to the side and pressed to the carpet, was all that I resting my upper body on: my hands had been clutching my breasts.
I felt rough, strong hands glide over my ass cheeks, make a few soft clutching gestures, and settle on my hips. He was getting upright on his knees, and I felt his hard cock bob against my thighs when he said, "It's time to fuck. It's time to feel my dick slide into you, baby."
I think he meant to go slowly and gently and to drag things out -- he slide just the tip in for a few strokes and seemed like he wanted to say something. He'd kept one hand on my hip, the other landed near my head, and his face leaned down toward mine.
But in a moment, he had buried his cock, which was amazingly hard, deep in my pussy, stretching it, knocking the air out of me at its deepest thrust. This was followed by quick thrusts, which soon reached a frantic frequency. He pulled his dick nearly out with each stroke and buried it up to the nuts at its deepest reach.
I was biting my hand to keep from squealing too loudly -- but his cock felt amazing in my pussy. He was fucking me so frantically that a couple of times, his dick came out of my hole on the out-thrust and before he could stop the in-thrust, I felt the length of it either slide up between my ass cheeks or, if it angled low, the length of it rub along my wet lips. Either one of these mis-strokes actually felt amazing, and they made me even more wet. A couple of times, I even moved my hips to cause him to miss.
While he fucked me like this, his free hand, the one he wasn't bracing against the floor, roamed all over my body, like a conquering warrior taking his spoils. He clutched at my breasts, sometimes pinching my nipples.
Other times, he gently caressed, almost tickling, my flat little tummy. Toward the end, he snaked his arm between my breasts and clutched my neck from the underside of my body.
I moaned loudly and with more of an urgent, raspy tone, and I came on his dick -- an orgasm he recognized and praised me for.
He said foul things to me while we fucked like this. He said, "Your pussy is where daddy's cock belongs, sweetheart, it fits so good."
And: "I'm gonna do such dirty things to you, my hot little slave girl."
And: "Your mouth is gonna be filled with hot cum I've saved up for you."
And: "I may not be able to keep this hot little body to myself-- I may have to share you with others. You're gonna learn how to eat pussy as my little slave."
And: "I bet you'd even like it if I found another daddy to share you with, huh? Maybe even a daddy with a girl to swap."
All these words alarmed me, scared me, aroused me.
Finally, he said, "Daddy's gonna cum!" and, according to the rules he'd laid down, I slid my bottom forward and to the side, sliding my wet pussy off his cock and turning around, quickly, on hands and knees. I saw his dick, sticking straight out and slightly up, its head swollen, jerking slightly as I approached it with my face.
His moaning had an urgent whine to it. I wrapped my lips around the tip, engulfing the slick knob in my warm, wet mouth. It was no more than two seconds later that I felt hot, sticky clumps jet into my mouth. He had a hand around a tangle of my hair and was looking down at me.
I was still not used to a man cumming in my mouth and I gagged a little as some of these jets hit the back of my throat. Some dribbled out the corners of my mouth. But most of it was still in my mouth as I withdrew from his dick, a motion that made Daddy stagger back a step against the wall behind him.
He watched me intently as I did as I'd been told. I cupped my breasts, pushing them together and closer to my face. I lowered my head and, slowly, drooled cum onto my tits. As I released my breasts, I could look down and see how wet my triangle of dark pubic hair was -- it was glistening in the faint light of the laundry room.
"That was fucking perfect," my woozy father said, as he slumped into a cheap metal folding chair we kept in the corner. "You're free to go now."