by Adrian Amos
He grabs the waistband of my shorts and slides them down slowly, letting me shake my ass back and forth to help him. He grabs my panties next, bringing them away from the moist heat of my loins.
Pushing my thighs apart, daddy lies down between my legs.
He starts slow, his mouth kissing pathways up, touching the sensitive skin of my thighs. There are perfect little spots where the skin is most delicate, and when daddy plants a kiss there, I squirm and giggle. It feels like arousal and torture mixed in one, too powerful to rightly get me off but too enjoyable to stop.
Casually making his way up, he reaches the creases where my thighs meet my pelvis. He kisses through them as he spreads my legs open wider, finding his road leads to the flesh just outside my pussy.
He kisses around my mound, coming perilously close but avoiding anything too shocking. His game is cloying, and when I feel like I'm about to cry out for direct stimulation, his lips plop down on my clit, smacking them with a kiss of their own.
The tingle is sharp and body liquefying.
“God, daddy, yes. I love your mouth.”
Opening me up for him, his lips softly peck at my bundle of nerves. Each kiss is intimate and endearing as if daddy were treating it like his most precious belonging.
Even though it's soft, it must be how contrasting it is to the brutality I've experienced lately that makes it stand out all the more. His lips remind me of his caring, beautiful soul, and every brush of them sends a swell of pleasure up to my mound.
And when his lips draw me in, sucking on my clit, over and over pulsating with the massage of his entire mouth, I writhe in agony.
I grip the sheets, struggling to contain myself. “Oh, daddy. Oh, fuck!”
He grabs my hips, preventing me from sliding up the bed and away from the intensity cooking below. It takes only a minute of the constant pressure of his mouth on my clit to send me over the edge, releasing the energy my body had saved up for him.
I let out a low, deep moan, the ricochet of energy traveling outward in every direction. I sputter and twitch in his arms, my butt shaking as my muscles unleash all their tension. I go lax, my body collapsing in on itself with all my weight.
There's nothing like an amazing orgasm to erase the past.
I can finally feel relieved that Darcy didn't ruin them for me.
Daddy kisses along the outside of my pink flesh, tenderly bringing me back to life. I lazily reach out for him. “Daddy, I want your dick. I need it, please.”
“You naughty, little girl.” He unzips his jeans and drops them to the floor, pulling his thick cock out from where it had been hiding.
He climbs over me, his body pressing against my tits as he positions himself. Guiding his cock with his hand, it's only a single, easy thrust before his dick pierces my cunt.
I yelp, the swollen tenderness of my pussy burning hot. The drag of his cock on my walls is extreme, and I dig my fingernails into him. He pushes all the way to the hilt, breaking through my resistance with no effort at all.
His body tenses and then relaxes, his cock situated neatly in my canal.
Daddy kisses me, bestowing the sour taste of pussy to me. And he thrusts slowly, his cock penetrating me with smooth efficiency. The long strides glide through to the end, the tip of his cock touching my cervix with the slightest nudge.
I hold my arms around his shoulders as he fucks me to the bed, his hips riding up and down as my legs hug him tightly. My thighs grip with anticipation with every deep thrust, the sensitivity making me react eagerly.
His speed increases, driving his weight into me with powerful strokes, his cock filling me up every second.
“Do it, daddy. Fuck me, daddy. I want you to finish inside me.”
His pulsating ass stops abruptly, his cock slamming into me with enough force to rend me. He groans, his dick throbbing, expanding and contracting, pushing my walls wide along with it. Daddy shakes as if he were unleashing a wave of cream, dumping it deep into me for my body to process into a new life form.
But I know it isn't so. When he pulls out, the dryness of his faux ejaculation is noticeable.
I need to let it go. I need to accept him for who he is, just like he accepts me for who I am. It's disappointing, but it's life now.
I mean, there's always next year as well. I can always keep trying.
Daddy helps clean me up, and when I'm dry from my juices, we sit down and finish our meal, now cool from our sexual intermission.
We lie down on the bed and turn on some television, soaking in the comfort of each other's bodies. But as I lie on daddy's chest, the situation is constantly running through my mind.
I know I've been disqualified, but what if isn't final? What if there's a way to reverse it? Mr. Morris—that sadistic son of a bitch—said he could have me ejected from the games at any time. Just because he wanted it.
But what if he can have me reinstated as well?
Is that possible?
I clear my throat. “Daddy, I really want a family with you. I have to admit I'm sickeningly impatient for it.”
He nods. “I know, babygirl. Sometimes the world just isn't fair.”
“Would—would you still be interested in getting the chip removed?”
“Of course. You mean next year? We can train for it better next time.”
“No, I mean now.”
He looks at me, his eyes steely. “What do you mean?”
I sigh deeply, my chest hurting. “You might not like the suggestion, but you said I should talk to you first before I make a decision like it.”
He flicks off the television.
“I'm listening.”
GAME 6
“Are you sure about this?” daddy asks, his hand grabbing my lower back and spinning me around before I reach the elevator.
The roar of the crowd as we pass through the outer ring of the coliseum steels my resolve. The pregame entertainment is riling them up, and the sixth game is only a few hours from starting. I need to be a part of that if I hope to catch up at all. I'm missing the chance to fix all this.
But I search his brown eyes, wanting to make sure he doesn't mean the question for himself. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“I trust you. I do. Completely. I just want to make sure this is what you want.”
I chuckle and scoff. “It's not at all what I want, but I think it's the only option I have.”
He shrugs. “We can wait to try again next year. Or maybe we'll earn enough money eventually to afford.”
I shake my head. “It's a couple million dollars. I've looked into it. No, this competition is the only way, and I really, really want a family with you, daddy. It's something I've been dreaming about for so long.”
“I just—I don't want you getting into trouble. You've already missed Game five, which has set you back by a lot.”
I hug him. “I know. You know I love you, and I'd never do anything to hurt you. But if something does go wrong...”
His gaze is serious. “You have my permission to do what you think is best for this family.”
I nod, kiss him one last time, and enter the elevator to the belly of the devil.
Stepping out at the top level, I experience the gauche red and gold room all over again. The decor is as eye-straining as before, but my attention focuses on the figure standing near the window to the Coliseum, watching the entertainment in his own little box. The blonde, greasy Mr. Morris watches on with little humor, sipping at a glass of whiskey on ice.
The vision of dirt below his grand quarters must be appealing to his disgusting ego.
As I approach, he talks without turning toward me. “And what must you speak with me so urgently about? I don't believe I have much interest in you since you've already been kicked out.”
“You have to know why I'm here.”
He sips his whiskey. “To beg and cry.”
“No,” I say, “I'm not begging.”
“Then what good are you. I don't expect much else fr
om a woman.”
I grit my teeth. I've never heard someone speak about people like that, and it sets my blood to boil. Every man I've ever met has been kind to me. Everyone but him. His testosterone or his money—I don't know which—has turned him into a cold-hearted bastard.
It makes me worry the same might happen to daddy.
“What if I told you Darcy cheated, and the only reason I'm out is that she pushed me over the edge with contraband?”
He glances at me. “So what? I'm sure there's enough cheating going on in the Games to make them somewhat fun.”
“Maybe,” I say, “but none of it's ever been exposed.”
His brow knits, but he says nothing.
“Someone took a video of the entire thing, and you can clearly see where she pulled a vibrator out of her vagina.”
That's a barefaced lie. Sure, someone most likely did take a video of it, and maybe they caught the cheating red-handed, but I did not have time to find out. I needed to make it here before the sixth game started or else all would be lost. But, at the very least, the probability of someone having done it gives weight to my claim.
Still, Mr. Morris plays a tough face. “So what, I say. You think it matters if a little cheating is found out? Nobody will do anything about it.”
“Again, maybe, but maybe when released into the wild, it becomes a viral sensation.”
The thought of me humiliated by another woman becoming viral creates a nasty stitch in my side, but I have to suppress it to make good on my threats.
I say, “And a viral sensation has enough power to wreck your business, the business I'm sure you have a lot of money invested in.”
I cut him off before he can speak. “And when they seek to interview the participants of the scandal, I might just let it slip one of the partners in the coliseum likes to attract girls up to his suite and rape them.”
His eyes flare. “I raped no one! You made your choice.”
“Oh, I had a great deal of choice, didn't I? Don't be a coward, and just admit it.”
He wants to flare again, but instead spits out, “Fine. I raped you. Get over it. You're not the first, and you wouldn't have the guts to put that out in the world. I'll deny it up and down.”
“What have I got to lose?” I say, crossing my arms.
He gestures toward the window. “You'll do all this to get back into these ridiculous Games?”
“They're not ridiculous to me.”
Well, they are, but the prize at the end isn't.
“You understand, right, that Darcy won Game five—the one you did not participate in. That puts her ahead three to one. She needs one more win to become champion, and I don't see the girl losing the rest of the Games to you.”
“I'll take my chances.”
Setting his drink down on the coffee table, he studies me, obviously measuring my conviction. “You stupid, silly bitch. If you want so badly to be a part of these games, I will not hand it out to you, no matter how much you threaten me. A trade will suffice.”
My heart sinks. I knew it wouldn't be so easy. “A trade?”
“You, and your information, for a ticket back in.”
“And by me, you mean—“
“You know what I mean. You're desperate to get back in. You never would have come up here if you weren't. My generosity is not without payment.”
“Your payment is to avoid the public finding out.”
“You think I'm worried about that? Lawyers, Megan, will save me from any trouble that seeks me out. No, what I want is your sweet, little body one more time. You do that for me, and you will have your entrance.”
I swallow. I know I can't force him to let me back into the games, and I can't let the voice of public opinion shame him months down the road. I need to get in in the next few hours to make headcount for the next game. He's not calling my bluff, but he's upping the take.
Sighing, I know I'm taking a tremendous risk. The chance of winning after falling so far into the hole is probably slim to none. But I know I have to at least try.
I want my family, and I want daddy to be whole again.
The heat in me rises when I finally speak. “Fine. Call down to the tent to expect me, and you can do what you want.”
He's about to say something, most likely to tell me he doesn't take orders, but his expression softens. He takes out his phone, calls a number, and says, “I'm introducing Megan Sternach back into the games... Ratings, my dear... Even out the playing field and make everything a little more exciting for the audience... I know... I'm proud I thought of it.”
He hangs up, and his growl is loud and fierce. “Now on your hands and knees!”
I sink down, excitement and dread overcoming me.
I'm back in! I can't believe it, I'm going to get a second chance!
But first, I have to get through the dread of his demands.
“Come here, you slut,” he barks.
I crawl toward him, passing through the space between the couch and coffee table, pulling up in front of him and the large window. He unzips his trousers, slinging his cock out.
“Suck it.”
I lean forward, intent on finishing this as quickly as last time. I take his salty cock in my mouth, pulling his flesh taut as my lips circle him. It's a gross taste, far worse the second time. I think about daddy, and the fact I'm doing this for him, and it makes the process a whole lot smoother.
I duck my head back and forth, jerking him to full arousal. His cock thickens, his veins popping as he becomes engorged. His large cock strains as I stroke him, beating his firmness with an energetic hand. His dick throbs with each push, and I can feel him getting closer and closer to finishing.
But he says, “Good enough,” grabs me by my hair, and lifts me to my feet.
“What?” I shout.
He throws me up against the window looking down on the Coliseum. He circles his hands around my waist, grabs the hem of my shorts, and yanks them and my panties down to my ankles.
“Hey!” I shout. He pushes me up against the glass, preventing me from escaping. “This isn't what we agreed to!”
“We agreed to whatever I wanted.”
“You can't. I'm saving myself for pregnancy!”
“Luckily for you, my chip removal was for my own satisfaction. You think I get all you idiot girls pregnant? I'm not that stupid.”
He guides his cock behind me and presses it to my backdoor. “You're going to take this up your ass,” he says.
My butt puckers immediately, and as much as I want to complain—to struggle—I stop myself. I've never taken it up there, and I know it's going to hurt, but I have to count my lucky stars because it's better than the other option.
I don't want to have to worry about carrying his spawn in me.
He pushes in, his bulbous head spreading my ass open with a shot of pain. I cry out, falling forward into the window and resting against the cold glass.
His push in is methodical, introducing a new dose of pain with every inch of his huge cock. It snags at every chance it gets, the lube of my saliva barely enough to glide his thickness into me.
He groans as his dick reaches full hilt, filling my small ass entirely. I grit from the pain, the pressure so intense to leave my mind reeling.
He pulls back and slides it back in, forcing a scream from me.
“Oh yeah, that's fucking tight,” he moans.
I bite my lip, not wanting to make it worse for me. Each slide in is intense, a blast of pressure and pain that makes me wince when he fully inhabits me. Eventually, though, the pain dissipates to a much more manageable mixture of pain and pleasure.
Oh god, daddy! Think about daddy, think about daddy.
“Watch all the little people down there,” he says, thrusting into me.
The crowd is massive, and there's no doubt someone is looking up at this, watching this creep ass fuck me.
“Just do it, you fucking pig,” I spit out.
His hands attach to my hips, and his co
ck impales me, sliding long thrusts deep into my rectal cavity. He picks up speed, driving his length with the force of his hips, slamming into my ass at the rate of a thrust a half a second.
I don't have to fight back the pain at this point. I have to fight back the pleasure. Focusing on daddy has actually turned this bizarrely pleasurable, or maybe it's the humiliation all over again. Getting forced is a sick desire within me, but I can't deny it's a desire my body takes to unconsciously.
But no matter how good the slick penetration of his cock up my ass is, I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing my pleasure.
I have to lean my entire upper body against the glass to brace myself, but I do a masterful job of keeping my moans stifled, replacing them with grunts as his cock rams faster and faster.
He repeatedly grunts, followed by exclamations. “Here we go, here we go, feel that ass get filled up!”
He launches into me, his weight pinning me to the glass. His teeth sink into my shoulder, his hands grabbing mine and pressing them to the glass—in a gross, intimate position—as his cock unloads into me. Hot cream launches deep into my ass, spilling multiple shots into the tight space. It doesn't take much to fill me completely, his cum oozing out along his cock, flooding down my cheeks.
I bite my lip as hard as I can, preventing me from uttering a single sound.
But it's difficult. Getting fucked in the ass felt too good, but worst of all, this is the first time I've ever felt cum inside of me. The heat of the liquid is satisfying and calming, tingling as it swishes inside. It's as glorious as I imagined, but I have to silence the pleasure it gives me.
When he pulls out, I don't take more than a second to pull my shorts up and rush out of the room. I'm done with him, once and for all, and there's no speed fast enough to get the hell out of there.
As I get to the bottom of the elevator, I slink off to a corner. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone. Rewinding, I tap play, and Mr. Morris's voice comes alive. “Fine. I raped you. Get over it. You're not the first.”
I click it off, slipping it back into my pocket.
“Deny this, you son of a bitch.”
I stop at a bathroom nearby and wash his filth out of me, cleaning myself as quickly as I can. The bell is sounding, expecting all the contestants to be in the prep tent for the next game.
