The Hitch-Hiker

I tried to tell myself it was anything but arousal at the utter wrongness of what I was doing.

I'm not exactly Queen of the Hand-jobs or anything like that, but I've given enough to know the signs, and it wasn't long before I could tell that Dad was close to cumming.

"Come on," I whispered under my breath, but it must have been loud enough to wake him...or persuade him to open his eyes, at least.

I yelped with fear at his fierce gaze, but even as the adrenaline began running through my body, my hand never stopped stroking his erection.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he bellowed at the sight of my flushed face, as I sat naked beside him on the bed.

"Please, Daddy..." I said, shutting my eyes with fear.

"Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me." he growled, and I considered disobeying him. Maybe if I kept stroking him, he'd have no choice but to fuck me. Or maybe he'd throw me over his lap and spank me...and why the hell did that image send a thrill through my body?

But I did as he commanded.

"You need to get out of my bed," he said in a low, dangerous voice, and I didn't even think to argue. I obeyed as quickly as I could...although I'd be lying if I claimed I didn't put an extra sway in my hips as I did.

When I reached the door, I looked back at him over my shoulder, and once more I brought a finger to my lip and slowly licked it, maintaining eye-contact the whole time.

Before Dad could say anything, I slipped back into the hall, trying not to gag at the realization that I'd just tasted my father's pre-cum.

After all, by the end of my trip I was going to be tasting far more than that.

###

When Dad emerged from his room an hour later, I was dressed in normal clothes again - like the day before, they were slightly more sexy than my usual garb, but not enough to warrant a lecture.

I could tell he wanted to talk to me about what had happened that morning, but I refused to give him an opportunity. As soon as he entered the kitchen, I began prattling about my classes, my friends, my job - anything I could think of that would distract him, but nothing that would give him an opening to talk to me.

As I'd hoped, his desire to talk to me about what had happened was overridden by his powerful need to avoid talking to me, and within half an hour it was like nothing had happened. We were chatting like a regular father and daughter...and not like a girl who had spent part of the morning jerking off her unconscious father.

Again, I let the day pass as normal, and again I was acutely aware of my father's gaze. I'd dressed in a pair of daisy dukes and a tank top with no bra, and whenever Dad turned his back I'd pinch my nipples to make sure they were hard. Each and every time he turned to face me, his eyes would flicker down to my boobs for a moment before returning to my face.

After lunch, I told him that I was going to have a nap, and he just grunted a response. We'd just spent the last half hour playing Monopoly, and his efforts to contain himself had actually caused him to begin to sweat.

In a way, it was kind of cute.

As soon as I was in my room, I stripped off and started to play with myself.

Loudly.

This is just to tease Dad, I reminded myself, even as I gasped at how easily my fingers slipped between the lips of my cunt. I'm wet because I knew this was part of the plan...

That's all that's happening.

Within a few minutes, I was huffing and whimpering so loudly that I knew Dad would be able to hear me. I'd like to claim I was just putting it on, but I genuinely struggle to get off quietly at the best of times - normally it's a curse, but I'd finally found a real use for it.

It's not a big house, and the floorboards are loud enough that if you're listening out for it, you can generally tell when someone is coming down the hall. Even through my pants and soft cries of pleasure, I could tell that Dad was coming towards my room less than five minutes after I'd begun jilling off.

Come in, I mentally willed, although listening from outside the door was probably just as effective. I didn't have the most concrete of plans, but I knew that the trick to getting Dad in bed would involve slowly driving him mad, until he was unable to think of me as his daughter - until I was nothing but a sex toy to him.

"Oh!" I groaned loudly. The image of my father using me as a sex toy had caused a powerful jolt of arousal to course through my body.

Nothing weird about that, I forcefully told myself. You're in the middle of getting off. All kinds of weird images are going to slip in.

A few minutes later I was screaming out "Daddy!" as I came. I don't know if Dad was immediately outside my bedroom door, or if he'd locked himself in his own room...but either way, I knew he'd be able to hear me.

Just as I was sure he heard me when I got off again ten minutes later, and then again half an hour after that.

###

"Nicki," Dad said sternly. "We have to talk."

"What's up?" I said innocently, even as I began pushing the frankfurt into my mouth in one long, slow, unbroken movement.

"It's, uh..."

I could tell that my ability to deep-throat a hot dog was distracting him, but he managed to push through.

"I understand that you've grown up a lot, and that you've probably learned a lot at university..."

I choked slightly as my mouth closed over the end of the sausage, grinning wildly at him as he lost his train of thought for a second.

"But, uh, you..."

He shook his head, and continued.

"You've grown up so much..."

With that, I nodded vigorously, knowing that it would cause my bra-less tits to shake slightly in the tank top. To his credit, Dad didn't falter for a moment, continuing his speech even as his eyes were unable to look away at my gently quivering boobs.

"...but you've got to understand what men are like. We have, uh, needs..."

I'd managed to bring the hotdog out of my throat and back into my mouth, and I slowly chewed it as he spoke.

"And, um...desires."

"Me too, Daddy," I said in a throaty voice, but to my surprise his brow furrowed.

"I know you do," he said, and the sternness had returned to his tone. "But I don't know if you understand what you're doing to your poor old Dad."

"Oh?" I said, desperately trying to sound as cutesy as possible. Once he lectured me about specifics, I wouldn't be able to play the innocent...of course, I'd probably lost that card when he woke up to find my hand on his cock.

"Like whatever that act was this afternoon," he said, a scowl descending onto his face.

"What act?" I said, but it was too late - Dad had gone into full rant mode, and he wasn't having any of it.

"Don't act like you don't know. Gasping and panting and carrying on - calling out Daddy, like a cheap porn star. You're better than that, Nicki. I don't know what's wrong with you, but it stops now, do you understand? I didn't raise a whore, but that's all I see right now - a common whore."

I sat in silence for a few seconds, stunned by the outburst.

Half of me wanted to cry. After all, he was right - I was acting like a common whore. It wasn't my fault, but he had no way of knowing that - as far as he was concerned, I'd suddenly gone mad and started trying to seduce him.

Honestly, that was what it was starting to feel like.

The other half of me, however...

God damn it, the other half of me was starting to get warm at his words.

What on earth was wrong with me? Had the strange man affected me, too, so that suddenly abuse from my father is what gets me hot? Or was this just how I was - had I always been built in such a way that being berated was going to turn me on?

No. It had to be the stranger.

It had to be.

Still, it was obvious that Dad had grown wise to my little tricks. And that meant...well, that mean there was no point in trying to hide my intentions any longer.

"I want to fuck you," I whispered, and now it was Dad's turn to be stunned. I watched as a vein at the side of his head began throbbing - it happens when he gets really mad.

But he wasn't saying anything.

"I want to be your little slut," I continued, annoyed by the thrill that ran through my body as I said the words. "I'm here for six more days, and I want to spend all of them with you inside me.

"Treat me like your fuck-toy. Please, Daddy...I need it."

As I spoke, I lowered the straps of my tank top. Before Dad could put a sentence together, my tits were out, and as he opened his mouth to berate me, I slipped one boob into the opening.

"Nicki," he gasped, reaching up to push me away. Instead, one of his hands made its way to my breast, and instead of shoving me to the other side of the room, he started uncontrollably groping my breast, even as his mouth latched onto my other nipple.

"Nicki," he said a few minutes later, coming up for air, but the anger had gone from his voice. My eyes were fluttering with pleasure - I had no idea that having someone play with your tits could feel so good, and I'd completely forgotten that seducing my father was something I was doing involuntarily.

Suddenly, all I cared about was getting him inside me...and getting me off.

"You disgusting slut," he growled as I unbuckled his belt and undid his fly, but he did nothing to stop me.

"Please," I gasped. "Daddy, please..."

There was a long pause as my father realized what I wanted. I don't know why it was important to me that he take my jean-shorts off, but it was - perhaps it was part of the ordeal I was being put through, perhaps I just needed to be sure that my Dad wanted me as much as I wanted him, but I froze, unable to unbuckle my own pants, yet desperately needing them to be taken off me.

"No..." he finally said, his voice thick with lust. "Nicki, no. I can't."

"I need it," I begged, and for whatever reason, this put him over the edge.

"You dirty little whore," he said, standing up suddenly, causing me to topple backwards. For the second time in a few minutes I sat in stunned silence, looking up at my father as he shot daggers at me. "Who the hell are you, and what did you do with my daughter? I raised a little princess, not a filthy slut like you."

Against my own will, I moaned at his words.

"Jesus fuck, are you getting off on this? You're actually getting off on being degraded by your own father?"

"Daddy..." I groaned, and he looked at me with a unique mix of fear and hatred.

"Get out," he spat, and I just gaped at him in response. "You are no longer my daughter, you abhorrent little tramp."

My tank-top was bunched around my waist, and my juices were running down both thighs - two facts that I was sure my father was acutely aware of. He stared angrily at me as I slowly stood up, his eyes flicking between my engorged nipples and my long legs.

Instead of walking towards the door, however, I walked towards him.

"I've been bad," I said huskily, and there it was again - that vein, throbbing angrily on the side of his head. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I need to be...punished."

"Oh god," he said, his voice catching in his throat, but before he could say anything else I pushed my lips against his, and he completely lost control.

I could feel his hands exploring my body, desperately grasping at my exposed legs, my aching tits. In one swift movement he picked me up, undid my shorts, and all at once his hand was between my legs, probing at my hot sex, causing sensations I'd never felt before, and never imagined being caused by my father.

Then, just as suddenly, he dropped me. For a second my heart was in my throat, and I thought I'd failed, that he'd regained control of himself, that he was going to be able to resist...but then he firmly gripped my hair, and began dragging me through the house.

"Oh god," I moaned, and he picked me up again and threw me onto the bed. His expression wasn't one of lust, or of pleasure - it was of pure need. It was obvious that he wasn't going to enjoy what we were going to do, but that he was doing it because he had to, because he was suffering.

And when my father roughly pushed my legs apart and entered me, the world went white.

The Hitch-Hiker

by Pan

Epilogue

Sometimes I have several playthings at once, sometimes I take a break from screwing with people entirely. But sometimes I'll stay in one place, I'll watch one victim's story from beginning to end.

Often I know what's going to happen next...but a book can still be reread, even if you know how it ends, and - unlike a book - sometimes my victims surprise me.

Nicki's wish was kept, as they always are. Over the next week, her father took her in every position imaginable. She woke him up with her mouth and went to sleep with his cock in her ass. She was every inch the devoted slut...and her father didn't enjoy any of it.

It wasn't the hardest thing I've ever done, but it was certainly a challenge. Honestly, sometimes what I do is an art-form: giving a man a teenage nymphomaniac for his exclusive pleasure, and then ensuring that he didn't get any pleasure out of it isn't easy, but I managed.

My favorite part, all things considered, was probably the names he came up with. With no endorphins rushing through his body after every sweaty fuck, Mark had an abundance of adrenaline and nothing constructive to do with it.

And so he spent his energy coming up with more and more descriptive names for his daughter. Slut, whore, bitch, cunt - he used up the obvious ones early. I wish I'd had a tape recorder on me - I think "used-up fuck-rag" was the best one that I wrote down, but "walking, talking, spiritless cumbucket" was another hit.

What's more, Nicki got off on it. Nothing to do with me, either - some girls like dirty talk, some girls have Daddy issues, and Nicki was in that particular Venn diagram's intersection.

At the end of the week, it was time for Nicki to return to college, and Mark to return to work, and a life that doesn't involve fucking his daughter every day.

All good things must come to an end, after all - even if this particular miracle of events gave him no pleasure at all.

Nicki packed, gave her father a farewell blowjob, and as soon as she was out of the house, I let her see me again.

"You!" she said, the hatred radiating off her in waves.

"Me," I said, and with a press to her forehead, she saw her future. Not all of it, of course - I'm not omnipotent. But she saw the simple truth: every holiday was going to be a repeat of this one. Not the seduction, just the sex - every time she was off college for any amount of time, her father would spend the majority of the time inside her.

I'm a man of simple patterns. One wish before, one wish after. The before wishes are predictable, but they're nothing compared to the afters - "I wish that I could forget what happened," "I wish that we never had to see each other again," blah blah blah. The first is easily solved with a technicality - you can forget what happened, but that doesn't cover the memories of every time it happens in the future.

And the second? In a word: blindfolds.

But if Nicki's first wish had surprised me, it was nothing compared to the second. She looked at me for a long, long time. I considered reaching into her mind and seeing what she was thinking about, but I enjoy the challenge of reading faces, and it seemed obvious to me that she was thinking about the last week, thinking about everything she'd been through.

She closed her eyes, and for a second looked so serene that I wondered if she had managed to wipe her own memory of what had happened.

Then Nicki opened her eyes with a steely glint, looked me straight in the eye, and made the strangest wish I've ever heard.

"I don't want to enjoy it either."