Daddy's Little Psychopath Ch. 07byLordOfHell©
Sorry again for the late chapter everyone. I'm sure you're tired of my excuses by now, so I'll just skip them. I'll just let you enjoy the chapter you've been waiting so long for. :)
New readers beware: this is the seventh installment of my Daddy's Little Psychopath series. Chapter One can be found here, Chapter Two can be found here, Chapter Three can be found here and Chapter Four can be found here, Chapter Five can be found here, and Chapter Six can be found here. You can expect this story to contain the following tags: cuckquean, father-daughter incest, mother-daughter incest, rough sex, and reluctance. If that isn't your cup of tea, you can try most of my other series, as they are quite different from this one.
Please, please, please leave a comment below. I can't stress enough how much feedback helps me write. I do read all of your comments and emails, even though I can't respond to them all.
It made me sick to see how happy Daddy was to have his little Arab fuck slave back. I wasn't there to see it in person, thank God, but when I watched the footage, I counted roughly 12 seconds elapsing between them hugging at the door and his cock pounding her pussy in the bedroom. Daddy just dragged her through the house, tore her clothes off and threw her to the bed. She didn't say a word in objection or even try to resist. She let Daddy have her any way he wanted. She let him cum in her pussy and begged him for more because she wasn't sure he'd gotten her pregnant yet.
God, I hate that Whore. I didn't think I would ever hate anything more than The Bitch, but she managed to surprise even me. In a way, it's almost funny. I'll be sure to have a good laugh about it someday . . . after I beat her face in with a shovel.
Her time was coming. Even as I sat in my Control Room, watching the surveillance monitors and cameras I had installed across every inch of my home, I had plans. I'd make sure the little slut knew what happened when you crossed me.
David was so happy to see Katy again. I don't think I'd ever seen him smile like that . . . not since the day I said 'Yes' as he slipped the ring on my finger or when he found out I was pregnant with our first child. I knew he liked Katy, but this went beyond just personal fondness. He didn't treat her like the other girls. He didn't even treat her like Ronnie or me—he was obsessive over Katy . . . controlling. He treated her like a servant more than a lover . . . and Katy was just happy to please him. It would have been really cute . . . if this weren't my husband I were seeing.
Fortunately, David eventually stopped fucking her in our . . . my . . . bedroom. Unfortunately, he converted his reading room into a second bedroom for her. I wondered how Ronnie felt about that, since the house was technically hers, but she never seemed to care. Whenever I saw Ronnie, it was business as usual: fucking David at any opportunity and ignoring me as much as possible.
Thinking about all this, I sighed and checked my pregnancy test again. Nothing.
I was still only 45, and as far as I knew, my biological clock was ticking fine. My doctors said that I was still probably a few years away from menopause, and I would be able to conceive. If I ever conceived. Unfortunately, all my life, I've had what doctors referred to as "poor egg quality". David and I had tried for 13 months straight before I got pregnant with Rhonda, and it took almost a full year before we had William. Worse yet, my medical condition only worsened with age. I had no idea when . . . or if . . . I would ever get pregnant again . . . but David wanted me to. It was risky for a woman at my age, and my doctors had urged me to get my tubes tied . . . but David wanted a baby from me.
Why did I even want one? I don't know . . . I guess I just wanted to please "my" David. Well . . . he's not "mine", really. Not anymore. Seven weeks ago, David got Ronnie pregnant again. Two weeks after that, it was the Thai girl, Papao. Then the East Indian girl, Poojintha. After that, the Czech girl, Ivana. And, of course, he was really, really trying hard to put another one in Katy. And it's gotten even worse since he lost his job. This was his job now. David was putting babies in sexy young women like he was some sort of pregnancy vending machine.
I still didn't understand—where did Ronnie find all of these girls? Where had they all come from, and why were they all foreigners? Why did they want David's babies so badly? Some of them didn't even speak a word of English! I had the feeling that there was something terrible going on . . . that we were all party to something horrible. Like everything about Ronnie, though, I couldn't prove any of it . . . so I just kept it to myself. Every night, though, I prayed that God would keep us safe.
Everything about my "new life" left me so conflicted. The new David . . . I hated him, but I wanted him so much. When David would fuck me, I never wanted it to end. It was so rough, so physical and so passionate. I wanted him to keep using me. David would tear my clothes off of me. He would bend me over whenever he felt like and fuck me there. He would push me on my back and put my legs on his shoulders. He would fuck me strongly, and bite my tits like an animal. He spanked me until my ass was burning with his handprint. He pulled my hair until the roots almost felt like they would tear. He would keep pounding into me the whole time, fucking me like I'd never been fucked before. Fucking me with the strength and energy of a man half his age.
But eventually, it would be over. And when nighttime came, I slept in my bed alone. David was a better lover than I'd ever known, but I had to share him now.
God help me, I don't know how to fix this. I want to have my husband back . . . but I don't want to give up this incredible feeling. It's a selfish contradiction, but I can't help myself. The other girls make me feel so weak and stupid and helpless and ugly . . . but David makes me feel amazing. I don't know how to give up one without the other! And Ronnie would never let me divorce David—she would never risk letting me go! No matter how much I worried or thought or prayed, I just didn't see a way out.
And every day, I slipped closer toward just giving up.
One night, Katy came out of "her" room dressed in nothing but one of David's t-shirts. Sweat covered her whole body from head-to-toe, making the fabric stick to her shapely body whenever she moved. I could even see her perky, healthy nipples poking through the front. She was practically floating as she meandered through my home, heading to the kitchen for what I could only assume was a mid-fuck-snack. She didn't notice me at all, even though I was less than twenty feet away, burning into her with my eyes.
I could hear her in the kitchen for several minutes, moving things, rustling through my neat cabinets for God-knows-what. Whatever she was doing was making an ugly racket, so I lifted myself from my seat and stalked her into the kitchen.
"Um . . . can I help you?"
She finally broke from her daze and her head whipped around to look at me. Even with her heavy makeup smudged and weathered from sweat, she was still crazy gorgeous. I hated that. Why was every girl having sex with my husband so much younger and prettier than me?! I was sure, in my earlier years, I could have given them a run for their money—but 24 years and four kids later . . . I didn't stand a chance.
"Oh, hello," she said sweetly. "I'm sorry. I was just looking for some sort of beer. David said that he would like one."
She turned back around and bent over to look deeper into the fridge. David's shirt pushed up on her thighs just slightly, and I was able to get a glimpse of his thick, silvery seed seeping down her thighs. Globs of it. It was absolutely obscene . . . there was so much of it leaking from the girl's pussy that there was no doubt what David was trying to do with her.
Well, it wasn't like I didn't know that anyway. Straight from the horse's mouth, David had told me. The only thing he cared about now was making babies . . . and using young womens' bodies for that purpose had become his passion—his obsession.
Did this girl even know who David was now? Did she know that Rhonda was just using her as a means to an end? She was just a tool to keep my husband brainwashed. To keep his mind so addicted to pleasure that he would never even think of questioning our daughter.
"Oh, I've found it!" she exclaimed, removing herself from the fridge and producing a tall can of Miller. "Thank you so much for your help!"
I was stunned. There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Thanks? For what? I didn't do anything."
She smiled and began to sashay closer to me, kicking the fridge closed behind her. "Oh, I think you being here made me think a little clearer. I came here a bit light-headed after . . . well . . . after such a busy afternoon."
I guess she stopped herself from saying, 'After fucking your husband for four and a half hours straight.' Somehow, the attempt to spare my feelings only made me feel even worse.
"Well, now you've got what you wanted. So I guess you can go back to trying to fuck David to death," I said, heated.
She smiled at me. But not in the way I expected. Not in triumph or in contempt. Not with the malicious intent to destroy what was left of my marriage.
Instead, she only smiled at me with genuine joy and then said, "That would be selfish, wouldn't it?"
Then, she disappeared into the bedroom again and the door shut behind her. Roughly ten minutes later, the bed began creaking. Two minutes after that, the moaning started.
"She's going to destroy us, you know."
Startled, I spun and saw Rhonda standing in the doorway, wearing her favorite robe.
"R-Ronnie . . .?" I stammered. "What . . . what are you . . .?"
"I spent thirteen years planning everything to the letter. I had it all so perfect. I knew how to make Daddy happy. I knew how I could finally win the man of my dreams. And I knew how I could finally punish you. To make you pay penance for your colossally misguided mistakes."
I couldn't look her in the eyes. Once again, the shame washed over me. I knew what she was talking about—the moment which still haunted me to this day. She knew how much it hurt to be reminded of it. She knew how much pain it had caused me over the years and how desperate I'd always been to make up for it.
Everything Rhonda was doing to me now . . . Everything that had happened to my family . . . I'd caused from my own actions.
"We were all happy, weren't we? Daddy was so happy—you could see it in his eyes. I was so happy . . . ."
She touched her belly. Even though it didn't show much now, David's child was growing there as we spoke.
"And you were happy, too, weren't you? You find this as kinky as Daddy and I do, don't you?"
Despite myself, I felt a twinge of lust at the thought. No matter how much I tried to fight it, I had to admit that seeing our daughter pregnant with my husband's child turned me on. Rhonda's body was immaculate—she was a perfect hourglass, with as wide and curvaceous as her amazing bust. Her tummy was toned and fit, with nary a hint of ugly fat. Her legs were long, lithe and slender—just as David liked them, and she always wore the same heeled slippers to show them off.
I still couldn't believe she had ever come out of my body.
What happened that made me get shafted by the genetics in this family? My mother, David's mother, and Ronnie were all still gorgeous to this day. Why was I the only one struggling with her weight, or using makeup to hide her crows' feet? Why did the "hotness" gene skip me and go straight to Rhonda? It wasn't fair!
Still, Rhonda was a sight to behold. I no longer had any compulsions about admitting it. In fact, I could even admit that Rhonda had finally helped me realize my bi-curiosity. Even now, the only reason I was disappointed to see Ronnie was because she didn't have her studded dildo with her. God, she always knew how to fuck me with it until I hollered and screamed like a banshee.
But when I looked down at her crotch, she was bare. Ronnie, of course, picked up on it. She smiled at me. Slowly, Rhonda's nubile body existed the door way. Slowly, her hip swayed and her heels clicked on the floor as she stepped closer. Eventually, she stood next to me . . . so close that I could feel her heat. The folds of her robe had fallen aside, letting me get a view of my daughter's breasts. They were ripening so well . . . slowly swelling with milk for my grandchild.
Ronnie gently reached up and slipped her finger into my mouth. I suckled on it gently, instinctively licking and coating it with my own saliva. In the meantime, Ronnie's other hand had pushed away my tight leggings, making them fall down to my knees, leaving me in my bright, soaked panties. Ronnie's nails scratched roughly against the soft cheeks of my rear, and traveled slowly up my spine. It felt like lightning shoot up from the small of my back.
I was already under her spell. My eyes were closed, and my arms had fallen limp. I let my daughter do whatever she wished with me. It hurt, but in a good way. I knew Ronnie hated me, but she knew how to perfectly blend pleasure with the pain. My nipples were hard, and my breasts perky . They reached out from my chest as if drawn to my daughter's rack. I wanted to press my tits against hers. I wanted to feel her body against mine.
Ronnie slipped her finger out, letting a trail of shimmering spit fall from my lips. Her hand slowly rolled down my belly, both tickling my tummy and making my heart race with excitement.
Finally, I felt two of Rhonda's fingers gently slip into her mother's pussy.
"I assume that you're hoping I'll fuck you again," she said as she gently fingered my pussy.
Embarrassed, I didn't answer. I only moaned as my hips ground against my daughter's fingers, gushing loads of cum all over them.
Then, just as quickly as it started, Rhonda pulled away. Her fingers were still gooey with my juices, and my pussy was aching to be played with.
"No . . .! Please, Ronnie! Don't stop!"
"Well, blame her," she said, indicating the next room, filled by the ecstatic screams of the youthful Katy. "If she doesn't go, we may never have an opportunity like this again."
I swallowed. "What . . . what do you mean, Ronnie?"
She gave me a familiar look. The 'Are-You-Stupid?' Look. She had been using it on me ever since she was four.
"In case you haven't forgotten, the three of us: you, me, and Daddy, are all committing a felony. The three of us are all related by blood." She again nodded toward the bedroom. "But her? She's different. This is all fun to her. It's just a game. She can have as much fun as she wants with us. She can destroy our entire family and walk away unscathed. Then everyone loses—you, me, Daddy—and all of our children."
My heart paced wildly. I hadn't considered it—I had just become so used to Ronnie being in control that I thought that there was no way we could get caught. Ronnie was so smart . . . so brilliant. She had planned everything so perfectly. She, David and I could fuck as much as we wanted and no one would ever find out.
But now, with this girl around . . .
Ronnie saw that I was starting to understand. She smiled at me, knowingly. I think, just for that instant, she didn't think of me as an idiot.
"I made a mistake bringing her around. She's more trouble than she's worth, and now I have to get rid of her without being conspicuous."
I swallowed. "G-get r-rid of her?"
Ronnie's expression remained blank. She simply looked me in the eye and asked me:
"If you had to . . . could you kill her?"
"K-Kill . . .?!" I nearly fainted. "I don't think I could . . . I don't know how to . . ."
"I'm not telling you to do it," Ronnie continued. "I'm only asking if you could. Even if you hate me, would you do it to protect your husband? Your children? Your grandchildren?!"
My babies . . . all of them were precious to me. Even the grandchildren David had made with Ronnie. Even the ones he had made with other women . . . they were all so innocent. I could never let anything happen to them.
"I . . . I don't know. I . . . I suppose if I had no choice . . . to . . . to save my family . . . "
She smiled at me. The look in her eye . . . I don't think I'd seen anything like it in years. She waltzed up to me, her beautiful hips swaying ever so gently. Her fingers gently caressed my cheek, and then she leaned over to give me a loving kiss.
Then softly, she said: "Thank you, Mommy. That's all I needed to know."
Ronnie had given me lots to think about. I spent the rest of the night stewing it over in my mind. I was so deep in thought that I barely even heard the moans, screams and grunts in the bedroom. If I had been, I would have noticed from the sounds David was making that he'd just cum inside Katy again. That would mean it was time for another break.
She came out of the room once more. This time, much less floaty and much more sore. Her pussy lips were swollen and inflamed, and she had even more of David's juice dripping from between her legs.
I cast one look at her, frowned, and then turned back to my magazine.
". . . So I assume you don't approve?" I heard her ask.
Instead of brushing it off, I responded reflexively.
"What, you think I should be supportive of my husband screwing another woman and trying to knock her up? That she spends more time with her than she does with me?!"
She didn't frown at me. She didn't have any strong reaction at all. I think my response was something she had been expecting. Waiting for, even.
"I see. I did not know this arrangement was not to your liking. After our original meetings, I thought you were much more willing to see me with David. You enjoyed our first sessions so much."
I had almost forgotten that the first four times David and Katy had sex, I had been involved with them. Originally, David's "affairs" had started as threesomes, and David and I would meet with the girls together. Ronnie was taping us together—using it as leverage. It was her ace-in-the-hole, if David and I ever betrayed her.
But then, David changed. He began seeing most of the girls on his own. Katy was his favorite, by a mile. He had grown quite fond of her, and her willingness to completely submit to him. With Rhonda, David could never be in control, and with me, David still held back a little. Katy, however, would do anything David asked her to do without any reservations. As meek and sensitive as David had once been, in his middle age, he was starting to relish the power. He was becoming more assertive . . . more conquering.
I had forgotten Katy wouldn't know about any of that. She wouldn't have known what our home was like before she and the other girls showed up. Or what David had been like before all of this.
She wouldn't know how much she'd taken away from me. From all of us.
"I'm sorry," I said, even though I truly didn't want to apologize. "Forget I said anything. Just . . . just do what you've got to do and go back into the bedroom. David is waiting for you." I turned back to my magazine.