Mandy's Dark Side Ch. 02

Author's Note: This my first attempt at writing an erotic story and I am self-editing for the most part, so please be patient with my inevitable typos or poor turns of phrase.

This story will include themes of breakup, infidelity, incest, non-consent and forced intercourse. The story may also veer into other kinks and taboos. I am writing this as I go, so who knows where my filthy mind might lead us. I do not necessarily condone any or all of the behaviors or kinks depicted here. Non-consent especially should only ever exist in pure fantasy or as part of an explicitly consensual and carefully negotiated BDSM play framework. This is a work of fiction and fantasy where safewords are not required. All depicted characters are 18+.

***

Several Hours Later

Amanda woke suddenly, feeling suddenly smothered and restrained, by what, she didn't immediately know. But somehow, she knew she was in danger. She felt something cool and threatening, made of some kind of metal pressed against her cheek. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness in her old room, she could see the glint of moonlight on steel. A knife! Someone was holding a knife to her cheek! Thankfully not the edge, yet, just the flat side. The cool kiss of metal was terrifying, and yet she wasn't panicked...yet.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to save herself from what she dreaded would be a myriad of bad outcomes. Then, suddenly, she realized her mouth was already open. Something had been shoved deep into her mouth. It tasted of sweat and something else...and then she realized. It was unmistakably the taste of cum...her Daddy's dried, delicious cum. The cum she'd been stealing since that first time she'd heard him fucking Mommy back in her senior year. She was 18 again and every chance she got, she'd sneak into their bedroom to sniff and lick up whatever dripped onto their sheets, or whatever she could find in the cellar laundry room. She whimpered against the gag, terrified but also unaccountably filled with a rush of excitement. Was it finally happening? Was he really finally going to do what she'd always dreamed of? And then she froze as she felt the knife turn and the edge begin to bite into her flesh and...

***

Gasping and nearly shrieking out loud, Amanda woke. She sat bolt upright, breathing heavily, irregularly, in long shivering gasps. Her naked breasts heaved and as she gulped down air in a fright, reaching up to her neck; half expecting to feel a bit of blood there. She knew there wouldn't be any, but she still checked. It was her ritual. One that she had established after countless similar dreams, all ending in her awake, sometimes screaming, sometimes crying but always horny beyond belief.

Her hand lowered from her neck, down the curve of her sweat-beaded breasts, over her toned tummy and down between her legs. She was disappointed yet thoroughly unsurprised to feel the torrent of dripping wetness between them. She may be sweaty all over from the recurring dream, but she knew by now what she felt wasn't just sweat. Her arousal flowed from her and soaked the fitted sheet beneath her.

Amanda looked around her room. Or what used to be her room. The 23 year old woman tried to ground herself in the familiar, as countless therapists had suggested. But none of it was familiar, not anymore. What had her parents done to it? Where were her things? No more posters. No more vanity with cute little collages of pictures of friends and crushes. Just a regular, if elegantly appointed, guest room. No hint of her old life. It was as if she had been erased.

They'd even replaced her bed and her favorite Barbie sheets. She shrugged.

"I guess this is part of growing up. I've been gone for so long. Fuck! They at least could have asked if I wanted to keep anything!" she shook her head in disappointment.

She sighed and looked at the clock. 1:21 am. She looked down at the fancy, high thread count sheets and shrugged. Perfect time to clean up the evidence. Alice Montgomery would definitely notice any stains on her fancy linens, and Amanda did not want to have that conversation with her mother. She grit her teeth against the fire in her loins and stood, shrugging into an oversized t-shirt, not bothering to dress in anything more at such a late hour.

She smiled wanly as she gathered up the damp sheets in her arms to make a pile at the foot of the bed. Any one of her past therapists would be proud of her at this moment. In years past, when this dream used to plague her more frequently she would almost immediately give in to the sexual frustration and either stroke her clit and pussy to completion or immediately jump on whatever lucky guy was sharing her bed at the time. She shook her head. Not healthy. Not at all. She'd already relapsed by stealing Daddy's cum this afternoon. It was a moment of weakness. Nothing more. And now she was paying the price. The price of her perversion. She had wanted to act on her feelings for Daddy so desperately, once she became aware of him as a sexual being, hearing the moans and screams he elicited from Mom.

She looked around the room as she pulled the last pillowcase and dropped it on the pile. There wasn't anything to put this pile in. No hamper, dammit! She didn't relish the idea of walking through the dark, down several flights of stairs to the cellar with this pile in her arms. She'd be feeling her way by memory and luck. She needed a hamper.

She blushed red as she remembered the moment of her shame this afternoon in the adjoining bathroom. The hamper with Daddy's dirty boxers. She shivered despite her valiant attempt at control and turned with dread back toward the temptation, moving in to the bathroom.

She needn't have worried. The hamper was gone. When did that happen? Daddy had been with her for almost the entire afternoon, cooking dinner, talking about her life in Toronto, and his projects around the property. It had been wonderful to just spend some quality time with him, while Mom drove off to attend one of her many charity parties.

She shrugged and gathered the sheets in her arms, barely able to wrap them around the bundle. It had been much easier when she slept here as a girl, in a twin. Now she was carrying a full set of california king linens and she had to crane her neck to see over it. At least this was helping to distract her from the persistent, throbbing ache at her core. At least her pussy wasn't dripping anymore, she thought. Her steps were slow, at first, as she moved down the stairs to the ground floor. Her steps were hesitant at first, but gained certainty as the memories of growing up here flooded back. She knew this house, still, even after 5 years away. It was like she was a mischievous 18 year old girl again, sneaking through the house after curfew, trying to not to wake Mommy and Daddy.

It took only a few minutes to get through the kitchen and towards the back of the house where the old stairwell down to the cellar waited. She stopped for a moment, surprised to see the door ajar. Someone must have forgotten to latch it!

"Well, that's lucky!" she muttered, as she used her hip to ease the door open far enough for her to slip down the stone stairs into the old musty cellar. Goosebumps crept over her bare legs as she eased her way down. It wasn't just the cooler air that was making her skin prickle. The old cellar had always creeped her out. It wasn't one of those modern finished cellars, this being an old Victorian era house. The walls were old fieldstone and mortar, the floor was well laid brick, however, and she didn't have to worry about any debris, as Dad always kept the area right around the bottom of the stairs clear, to give easy access to the laundry that was backed up against the wall adjacent to the stairs. She was also surprised to see that the single bulb that illuminated the laundry area was still on. Its pull chain was swaying slightly, as if it had been turned on recently. And then her heart sank. The laundry machine was already running.

"Fuck me" she muttered.

She dropped the sheets on top of the dryer and moved to check the timer on the washer. 35 minutes left. It hadn't started that long ago.

And then she saw it.

The hamper from her bathroom.

Daddy's dirty hamper.

It was tucked in beside the washer, and empty.

She frowned, and shook her head, brushing away those last fuzzy remnants of sleep as something dawned on her. Daddy had snuck in. Not to do that forbidden thing to her. Not that, no. But to clean up? To hide his own shame? Her goosebumps spread all over at that realization. She could feel her pussy moisten once more as she imagined him creeping past her naked, sweating, writhing body. She had to have been dreaming that dream while he was in her room. Did he notice? Did he know? What had he seen? Or heard?

She gasped as she remembered the last time she'd been overheard during her dream. Only last week when she'd moaned out for Daddy in her sleep while lying next to Josh, her now-ex. He'd not understood, or been kind or accepting. He'd called her a freak. And she just couldn't take that. Not on top of him not fulfilling what she ultimately always ended up wanting from a man.That forbidden act, that most violent act that she craved and felt such deep shame for craving. A dirty, secret shame she'd been hiding since that fateful night all those years ago when she'd come home late from a party and heard Daddy fucking Mom. She needed to be taken. Roughly. Dangerously. By anyone, really. But by Daddy especially.

Without realizing it, Amanda's hands had started to lift the t-shirt over her waist, roaming over her body as she let herself be whisked away by that forbidden fantasy once again. Until, just as her fingers began to slide between her lower lips, she heard...something.

It was a sort of strangled grunt, an echo from around the corner. It was coming from one of the many open rooms in the old cellar. She whipped around, stifling a scream by covering her mouth.

It felt like a little one of those moments from a horror movie, where the creepy strings started to play. That feeling reached out and dragged its bony finger across the nape of her neck. She leaned up against the wall, the rough stone digging into her shoulder blades. Her eyes darted back and forth until she caught it, a splash of soft yellow light coming from down the long hallway. It looked like somebody might be in one of the other rooms down here, in what once used to be a root cellar. She thought she remembered that it was maybe used for storage nowadays. Something Daddy had said about moving some of her things down here a few years ago.

She heard another grunt, followed by a gasp and she took a deep breath through her nose, her hand still clamped over her mouth.

Okay. So. A person. Not a monster.

She dropped her hand from her mouth and shook her head at the ridiculous thought. Of course, not a monster!

She began a long slow walk down the hallway, the pale light of the laundry bulb casting her shadow into the hallway. She didn't want to be caught down here. Didn't want to explain why. So as she stepped into the hallway, she kept her back against the wall, melding herself as much as possible to it. Her hope was that her shadow wouldn't be noticeable against the light spilling into the hallway as she crept closer. As she approached and leaned forward, her breath caught at what she saw.

There were her things! Her Barbie sheets, her picture albums, even her vanity. Her old chest of drawers, pulled open, old clothes strewn about. And there, standing in front of her vanity, his head thrown back, and hand wrapped around his enormous, veiny cock, was her Dad!

He was holding what looked to be a pair of her old frilly pink panties to his face. His eyes were closed, his hand was stroking fast and aggressively, and a long string of shining precum was dripping from the tip onto a picture of her from senior prom.

"Oh baby girl...Mandy, oh fuuuuck!" she could hear him moaning as he stroked his gorgeous girthy cock up and down. His breath was short and he grunted again as he body shook.

A stray thought pierced her shock, making her almost giggle at the absurdity. She couldn't imagine there was any kind of scent still on those, nearly 6 years since the last time she wore them! What was he thinking?

He groaned again and the muscles in his forearm rippled as he gripped his man meat roughly. An even larger gobbet of precum sluiced from the engorged head. It was such a lewd and shocking sight, she stood paralyzed. If she had imagined this-heck she probably had at some point-she would have frigged her little clit to orgasm after orgasm to it. But she just couldn't square her years of fitful fantasizing and self-shaming with the unadulterated reality before her. She was petrified. Heart fluttering and pounding in a mix of panic and provoked arousal.

And thus, as she stood, framed in the yellow light spilling from that room, Simon Montgomery's eyes opened to the vision of her, pressed against the stone wall, her eyes wide, her mouth open in what seemed like abject horror.

Amanda's father came then, in a great torrent of pent up frustration and incestuous lust. The ropes of cum splashing against the mirror of her vanity and down over the picture album of her senior prom, obscuring her smiling 18 year old face. Daddy moaned and shook and then gasped out in horror himself.

"Jesus Christ! Oh fuck! Mandy...I...I didn't...I mean...I don't know what to...what to...wait, don't...don't go!" he yelled after her fleeing form. The slap of her bare feet against stone echoing through the cellar followed by the slamming of the door to the kitchen.

Simon stood there in the hallway of the cellar, his cock deflating swiftly, his pajama pants around his ankles as he tried awkwardly to follow her before cursing and yanking them back up around his waist.

"Wait, honey! Let me...oh fuck...how do I explain this?" he moaned and then slid to the floor, head in his hands.