by Adrian Amos
“Oh fuck, daddy! It's huge!”
“Just relax, baby.” Daddy slows his pace, torturing my cunt with his extra long cock taking extra long to fuck me. When he finally gets all the way in me, when his hips press up against mine, we both moan out in pleasure, my pussy fully accepting everything daddy gives me.
Holding onto my legs, daddy pulls out and pushes back in, his entire length piercing me, my sensitive walls quivering as they clench onto him.
“You're so tight, baby,” he says, his voice struggling as he struggles to push into me. But daddy's pace starts to pick up, his hands clasping my thighs as his pelvis begins to slam into me.
“Daddy, you're so hard!” I scream as he pounds into my flesh, fucking me with his special man parts.
He leans forward, pushing my thighs against my stomach, taking my mouth in his as he thrusts into me from the new angle. His dick feels so deep and long that I squeal into daddy's mouth, trying to hold it together as he sucks on my lips.
“This feels good, doesn't it?”
I nod and grunt, unable to speak at my daddy's command.
He starts to thrust harder and faster, his rhythm perfect. “Come on, baby. Make that cunt shake for daddy. I want you to come.”
“But daddy, I don't know how.” My words fight me as they come out, getting into the way of my rapid breathing.
“Daddy'll make you come.” He says, slamming his dick into me with long, slow glides slapping into my pussy, smacking my clit against his pelvis. “Daddy's going to make you come.”
I don't know what he's doing, but his puncturing cock starts to light up my senses. The pressure in my pelvis builds, the sensitivity in my pussy heightens, and my breathing becomes shallow. I can't control it anymore as the pleasure in me keeps increasing until I feel like I'm going to explode.
“Oh God! Oh fuck!” I scream, my body shaking and my hips bucking as all that pressure releases, sending indescribable waves of pleasure shooting through me. They're sharp and tingly, hitting everything on their way through. I feel my pussy and ass squeeze over and over, my muscles working on their own.
Daddy must love it, because each squeeze of my muscles causes him to grunt in return, feeding off my body's eruption. “Fuck, babygirl, I'm coming! I'm coming in your pussy!”
His thrusts slow until almost a dead stop. And then they start up again, his moans and cock throb, a warm shooting sensation filling my pussy up. His cum launches into me, creating a warming, comforting gush in my pussy, a perfect, soothing response to my own violent orgasm.
“Daddy. Daddy, that's feels so good in me. It's so warm.”
When he pulls his dick out, I feel almost sad that he's gone. He lays my legs over the edge of the table, his cum spilling between my thighs as I catch my breath.
Now that the thought of carrying daddy's baby as entered my mind, I can't stop thinking about it. “Do you think I might actually get pregnant?”
“I don't know, Mermy. Are you worried about it? You know, there's always things we can do to fix that.”
I bolt up. “No, I didn't mean that.” I look down at the floor, swinging my legs in shame. “I really want to have your baby, daddy. I want to take care of it for you. I think I'd be really sad if it didn't come true.”
He lifts my chin up with his hand, looking me in the eye. “Mermy, I promise you. If that's what you really want, then I'll make damn sure you have my baby. Even if it takes me fucking you every day for the rest of time, I'll make sure you end up happy.”
I smile, hugging him. I think I'm starting to like that nickname all over again. Daddy knows exactly how to look out for me.
- - -
When's Daddy Coming for Tea?
“When's daddy coming for tea?” I ask, staring out the window, sipping my tea, and putting as much bile in the word 'daddy' as I can. It might be necessary for a proper young woman to always refer to the man in her life as daddy, but that doesn't mean I have to mean it in any sense of the word. At least I wouldn't let it get to me, to debase me below my station by calling him anything but the correct term.
“Lexy, please don't be like that,” my mother says, her consternation confusing, “You should watch your tone when he arrives.”
What's there to be confused about? She married a low-class man—one I've never met—after only a few weeks of knowing him. I know my real daddy's sudden passing has been hard on us, but she married without even telling me, without even inviting me to the wedding! How the hell can she be annoyed with my behavior when what she did is the worst thing to ever happen to us? And below our rank? My God! If my daddy were alive, I can't imagine what he'd say.
His guidance is sorely missing, and it feels like every day that passes without him is another day for our family to become lost in the haze.
I continue to gaze through the window, unwilling to even look back at my mother sitting on the sofa. “Mother, I'll act how I see fit. As far as I'm concerned, you've tarnished our name.”
“Lexy, you quit that. I love Joseph and you'll just have to accept that. Yes, maybe I didn't follow the correct channels, but that doesn't mean much in the eyes of true love.”
True love? Hmmph. The man is most likely a conman, conniving in his manipulation of my grieving mother. She wasn't widowed more than a few months before a sudden eruption of love enters her life? I doubt it considerably.
And it sickens me how the woman defends her actions as if nothing were wrong. “I shall see your account of true love. As you would judge a man in my life if he were worthy of my attention, I think I should be afforded the same responsibility.”
She titters, but I can tell how nervous she is. “Please, Lexy, I am not a child. You are only 20 years old, I don't think it would be appropriate.”
I remain firm. “I am, but you are a vulnerable and weakened woman. As much as I think this is bad for our family, I am also looking out for your health.” I sigh, “And think of Joane and Mary! What would they think if a man suddenly appeared in their lives ready to assume a domineering role? We're lucky that they are off to boarding school, or else we would have a fiasco on our hands.”
My mother keeps to herself, sipping at her tea. I swear, the woman can seem mentally unstable at times. But that is why I wish to speak to 'daddy', because I may not be able to convince her of anything, but at least I can get to the bottom of this predicament by interrogating the man laying claim to her.
If he doesn't abide my decision, then I will have no choice but to apply for conservatorship over my mother, on account of instability and mental hardship over my daddy's death.
The butler knocks and enters the room. “Miladies, a Sir Joseph as arrived.”
“Sir Joseph?” I inquire.
“He refuses to give me his last name,” the butler acknowledges. He refuses because his family name is of no value. A mark against him already.
I shake my head. “Show him in.”
The man who enters the room is not as offensive as I would have first believed. He's tall and ruggedly handsome, thick and built like a workman. He has an unkempt stubble, dark and mussed hair, a number of scars on his calloused hands. I can tell immediately from his stance, gait, and dress that he is not a man of class. But as to his looks, he is a gorgeous specimen, and if cleaned up, he'd fit right in with the best nobleman, most likely outclassing them in appearance of genes. I can see my my mother fell hard for him.
But his manners won't do him any favors. “Hello, sweetums,” he says to my mother, kissing her on the cheek.
“So nice of you to finally join us, daddy,” I say, forcing myself to refrain from tainting the word 'daddy', but refusing to remove the sarcasm from every other word.
He looks at me, his eyes a lime green that almost startle me in their clarity. He has a level of intelligence in them that I would not have thought impossible for his class. He nods, “And you must be dear Lexy. Your mother has told me so much about you.”
I doubt it, you vagrant, having only known her for mere weeks. Bu
t I bite my tongue. I curtsy in my dress, “A pleasure, daddy.”
He comes over to me, taking my hand in his and kissing the back of it. His lips are uncommonly soft on my skin, and I feel my resolve weaken slightly.
But soft lips do not make a vile con artist a proper man. I will not be seduced by his looks or his personality. I will only consider his intentions for my mother and my house.
“I would like to speak with you,” I say.
His nose scrunches up, “Sure. Sweetums,” he says, turning to my mother, “why don't you go get me a scotch?”
My mother smiles and stands. I shake my head: foolish woman has servants and yet moves to do as he bids. And scotch at tea time? What a savage! “Mother, that won't be necessary. If you do not mind, though, I would like to speak with Joseph alone. Can you give us the room for a little while?”
“Of course, Lexy,” she says, although she looks at me with worry. “Just be civil, you two.” She leaves the sitting room, closing the door behind her.
I am alone with this strange man, who is going about reading the spines of the books on the shelves.
“What are your intentions?” I ask, acquiring the nerve I need to broach the situation.
He does not say a word, moving from the fireplace to studying the paintings on the wall. He looks over the painting of me from my 18th birthday, the day I became a woman.
“You look quite fetching in this picture.”
I reluctantly respond, annoyed that he ignored my question. “Thank you, daddy.”
He looks over the family portrait, a lasting reminder of the greatness that was my real daddy.
“How old are your sisters?”
“Joane is 18 and Mary is 19.”
“All of you a year apart? Your mom and dad must have been fucking like rabbits for a while.”
I blush hard, the red in my face tormenting me like sunburn. “That is highly inappropriate language!”
“Don't be stuck up, princess. This is how men speak.”
“Well, not in this house,” I reprimand, crossing my arms.
“What? You mean my house?” he smirks.
“Certainly not. You have no ownership of this property.”
“Little Lexy, your mother and I are married. I believe that gives me property rights.”
My daddy used to call me little Lexy, so the dismissive perversion of my name by this deviant burns my blood. “I'm not your little Lexy, and no, I will challenge any right you have to our family house in the courts.”
He takes a few steps toward me, but I do not flinch. I will not be bullied by this ruffian. “I believe you should be calling me daddy, no?”
I look to the side, refraining from rolling my eyes, but I look back at him, determined to keep my grace. “Daddy,” I say, countering his smirk with my own, “you shall own nothing when I am through with you.”
“That,” he says, touching the tip of my nose with his finger, causing me to dart my head away, “is no way to speak to your daddy.”
“Don't touch me.”
His look changes from irreverence to sincerity. “Do not tell me what to do.”
I swallow. His sudden shift startling in its extremity; I thought his brash and flippant language was annoying, but this harshness is far more terrifying.
I stutter. “I-I want you out of this house.”
“What did I just tell you, little Lexy? If you won't listen to daddy, then he'll have no choice but to whip obedience from you.”
I take a step back. “You'll do no such—“ He grabs my arms, pushing me against the wall near the fireplace. I bounce off, unhurt but shocked by his force, cutting my protest short.
“I'll do as I please. You threaten that you'll take everything from me. Through the courts, right? But until that point, marriage gives me ownership rights to this house, and discipline rights as a father. As far as they're concerned—and you—I own you, little Lexy.”
I shake my head, but before I can speak, he spins me around, pushing me against the wall. His hand flies to my corset, undoing the bonds that hold me together. “What are you doing?!” I scream.
He stops, slamming his hands against the wall, enclosing me in as his body pushes mine flat against the wall. He brings his face close to mine, and I turn my head away from him, but the closeness and warmth of the man sends a shiver down my back. No man has ever been this close to me, and my body reacts to his brute power.
“Be quiet, now,” he says. “If you cry out again and alert your mother, then I'll have no choice but to punish her as well for raising such a spoiled brat.”
“Punish?”
“You will be disciplined.” He pulls my dress from my shoulders roughly, letting it fall to the ground. I am in my undergarments and feel a sudden rush of embarrassment at my near nudity.
“But this is not right,” I say, trying to cover my indecency from behind.
He grabs my arms, pushing them back up against the wall. “What isn't right is that you continue to disrespect me by not calling me daddy. And here I thought you were a proper young woman.”
“I am,” I say, inordinately bothered that he would question my propriety. “I will not have a man of your station question my manners.”
“A man of my station, huh?” I can hear the anger in his voice, even though his tone is even and steady. “I disgust you, then, for being lower born, don't I?”
“Of course,” I say. He is a handsome man, and nothing about his looks would truly disgust me, but I want him and his devious behavior out of my house. I'll say what is necessary to get him going. “I want you gone.”
“Well, I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to teach you a lesson; I'm going to make you love me like your mother does. She begs me every night for it.”
“Begs you every night for it?” I ask, not sure of what he's talking about.
“You'll see.” He grabs the lower half of my undergarments, pulling them down and exposing my ass.
“Stop!” I scream, “What are you doing?”
He keeps me pinned to the wall with one hand as he slaps my ass with the other, his large hand cupping my cheeks with every swing. I grunt from the force of the impact, bucking my hips into the wall.
“Stop, you brute, or I'll call my mother!”
“If you call her, then she'll get the same treatment. No,” he corrects himself, “she'll get it worse.”
Would he really strike my mother like this? What could be worse?
I don't respond, unsure of what to say.
“That's what I thought. A stubborn little girl like you can only be tamed when others are threatened. Now be a proper young lady, little Lexy, and take your punishment in silence.”
He connects with my ass, spanking me like my real daddy never did. He let me do as I please, but for the first time in my life, I'm being punished for something I've done. Each strike to my ass makes me squirm, the burning hot sting in my flesh painful.
But something in me reacts to his discipline. I've always been a headstrong and vocal girl, willing to contend with every obstacle through every ounce of resistance I could muster. Instead, something inside me fears Joseph's boorish behavior and aggression, his uncivilized manner, not allowing me to speak up against him.
My own inability to act accordingly is driving a peculiar sensation throughout my body. I'm letting this horrible man punish me however he sees fit, and with every slap on my bare ass, I can feel my pussy getting wetter by the moment!
My own submission is turning me on!
“Stop, please daddy, stop!” I cannot let him get to me; I cannot break protocol.
He grabs my hair, pulling me back slightly so he can whisper in my ear. “I know you don't really want me to stop.”
“What?” I ask, “No, I really do want you to stop.”
He turns me around so that I face him. I rush to cover my pussy; I don't want him to see it, but I also don't want him to notice that I'm wet. “No,” he says, “stubborn girls like you like to be broken. That's why y
ou fight men so much, so they can rein you in.”
My face flushes. “That's absurd.” He doesn't know me! I don't fight for men; I fight because that's who I am: a strong woman. Just like my real daddy taught me. That is how you show the world that you're not to be trifled with.
But can he tell that I'm getting turned on?
He laughs. “No, it isn't. I'll show you how much you're craving it.” He brings my hands over my head, binding them together with one hand. He grabs my chin with his other hand, guiding his soft mouth to mine.
I try to push him off, but I'm no where near strong enough. His lips part mine, his tongue penetrating me with a swift motion. He circles my tongue with his own, keeping my hands above me as he violates my mouth.
“What are you—“ He slaps my tit through my shirt, the shock making me jolt in place.
“No more questions,” he says, “Just obey your daddy.”
I keep quiet, not wanting to get struck again, but Joseph reaches for his pants, undoes the buttons, and lets them slip to the ground. Out falls a massive cock, half-erect in arousal.
My eyes go wide. It's so big! Not that I've ever seen a man's cock before, but I never once imagined that they could get so large. How do they walk with something like that between their legs?
“What are you doing?”
“A little stuck-up princess like yourself is going to taste some lower-class cock. You need to be put in your place.” He pushes my head down, making me drop to my knees in front of him. With the wall to my back, Joseph's cock is mere inches away from my face, the bobbing of his shaft as it thickens brings it closer with each pulse.
“No, that's just wrong.” I try to cater to his sense of duty. “You're supposed to be my daddy!”
But a man like him only has duty to himself. He smiles, “Oh, I'm gonna be your daddy. This is my family now—you're my little girl—and daddy does as he pleases.”
He grabs a handful of my hair, and with his other hand, guides his growing dick toward my mouth. He rubs it against me, a salty bead of precum dabbing against my lips. The taste is divine, the knowledge of its origin sending a pulse to my pussy, making me wet by the simplest of thoughts. I swallow, trying to keep myself from licking my lips and inviting him in. I can't let him bully me. I need to stay strong. I close my mouth tightly, trying to keep him from gaining entrance.
