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Life Lessons (Father Figure xThatsMyFetish)

ThatsMyFetish

ThatsMyFetish

Happily Lost
Joined
Oct 19, 2015
Every season seemed to have it's theme, just as every turn of the weather seemed to carry with it certain feelings. During those hot and lazy summer days, Sarah would spend her mornings and evenings down by the pool to avoid the worst of the sun. Afternoons were often spent in the library. Rainy days invited the quiet, reflective moods that required hot coffee, a good book, and a blanket, or hours wiled away writing or sketching by the window as she listened to the patter of the water on glass with one ear, and her music with the other. And snowy days... well, snowy days like this were special. There was a peace to looking out upon the snow in the evening and watching it fall into thick drifts, and waking up each morning to see the world sparkling white, clean, and fresh looking was something that Sarah always looked forward to. Of course, she also liked being able to look out her window and see more than snow up to her eyes.

This was the second day that the snow had fallen so thick. That much taller than herself, it was utterly impossible to make the drive to school, or work, though that hardly bothered the girl. She was a studious little student, and she made nothing less than excellent grades; her Father demanded it, after all. And she had always tried to please her father, from her earliest memories as a girl. And he had always provided everything she needed, everything she had wanted as a child. Swimming lessons, riding lessons, trips across America; growing up her father's daughter had been a dream, and Sarah knew she owed everything to the man, including her worldliness.

He worked hard, offered up a lovely home, everything that she needed, and the very least she could do was try to keep his house and try to be the very epitome of what a good daughter should be.

And eventually, the freckled faced girl with the curly hair had become a lovely and slender thing, the carrot top having darkened to something more of a true red. She twirled a curl of that red hair around her finger absently while she read upon the sofa. One sock clad foot rubbed against a leg covered in black spandex, and Sarah turned a page. Amityville Horror probably wasn't the best book to read while she was trapped in her own house, but Sarah had always had a taste for the horrific... And it was better than reading Narcissus in Chains again.

Nibbling upon her thumbnail as Sarah's eyes flew over the pages, she told herself not to bite too hard, not to nibble her nails when she was almost done with the habit... but then there were red eyes looking in on the children when they slept.

The sudden sharp buzzing from the bulb behind her was enough to have Sarah jump, and she sat up and jerked her eyes to the lamp an instant before the light fizzed out. Her eyes turned upwards as around her, every light in the house went off, leaving her plunged into darkness... worse though, was the sudden loss of heat as she tugged her sweater tighter to her neck.

"Frigging kidding me..." Sarah muttered quietly as she pushed herself up from the couch.

Abandoning her book, Sarah padded across the carpet. Squinting in the near dark, Sarah shook her head. The windows were piled high with snow, and blocked out most light... Still, her phone was on the charger in the kitchen, and her dad was around. She knew he had some flashlights and candles somewhere.... the heat situation.

"We're going to freeze to death...!" Sarah called out in a sing-song voice, to the only other person in the house. Ducking into the hall closet she found her scarf and wound it about her neck. "This is how it started for the Donner Party, you know!"
 
Humor was always an interesting thing from his daughter. Very few expected the macabre from a young girl such as her, but he knew his little angel was a skewed mind and he accepted it with good grace. It was something he himself had, something that made him a little bit of an oddity amongst the people that knew him. That was what made him such a good Father perhaps, the fact that the social world seemed to be something that he would easily skip out on if it meant that he would not have to deal with the world of humanity. The utter annoying grouping of the species. It almost made him sneer sometimes as he looked at social media, Facebook postings, the utter insanity that the world had come to represent. Nevertheless it let him dedicate the proper time to a woman who deserved it. Not a wife, not a fiancée, and not a girlfriend.

No, his beautiful little girl.

Indeed he had worked hard and provided for her, provided and given of himself in ways most Father's never did. From the earliest of ages it was his hands that were there for her to aid her or to punish her if the need arose. His hands that represented happiness, his arms hugging her to him, his voice demanding her obedience, his eyes intense and judging, his soft kiss on her forehead at night. It was these things and so many myriad others, the willingness to give of himself in time and effort to make her into the perfect young woman. He would pay any price, satisfy any whim, as long as she did not treat it with whimsy. As long as she was determined to make the best use of what he provided. He might not be a boy scout, but he lived by their motto, and he was preparing his girl. Preparing her for a life away from him, as any good Father would, a life where she would have whatever she could claim.

It was that kind of thinking which led him to be hardly surprised and not at all disconcerted when the lights plunged them into darkness and everything came to a halt. It was amazing how silence could descend upon a dwelling when you took away all the power. The steady hum of air conditioning, the whirring of fans, the sounds of appliances. They all disappeared leaving you with nothing but your thoughts and the outside...and the outside here was howling with the snowstorm. He straightened up out of his office chair and shut his laptop, his large frame looming in the darkness and the floor making a slight creaking noise as he stepped from around his desk. His hand moved and he picked up one of the flashlights, the other picking up his phone as he called out just slightly.

"Hold still, I'll be there in a moment." His voice was solid, reliable, the kind of voice that could take charge in any situation. He made no reference to cannibalism, after all...they had a dog if they required it. The thought put a smirk on his face, his own private joke as he began to move through the home to find her.
 
Sarah would have sooner offered up he own leg then let a beloved pet go to the skewer. She was a soft touch, and she loved all her pets growing up... perhaps a little too enthusiatically.... The bunny hadn't survived the first day of hugging and petting when she had been two, but live and learn. She had simply been too young for a pet that could apparently die of stress... and being around a rambunctious toddler was no doubt stressful. Besides, as she had grown up, Sarah had gotten better with her animals.

Thoughts of the dog were far from her mind though, when her father's voice echoed out from his study, the firm words almost enough to have her stop mid-stride into the kitchen, though her eyes were upon the shadow of her phone. Biting he lower lip, Sarah hesitated a moment before she dared to tiptoe forward. Socks making not a sound upon the tile, she reached out and tugged the wire from her cellphone, and saw there was nearly a full charge. The flashlight drained the battery terribly, and she didn't know when the power would come back on. Sarah nibbled her lip a moment as she reasoned that she would only use the flashlight for a moment or so. A tap of the screen, and her phone's torch sprang to life as Sarah cast it down towards her feet and shuffled from the kitchen.

"It's probably not a fuse with the way the wind's been howling," Sarah called as she returned to her book. She marked her page and sniffed the air. There was the strange, almost acrid scent of ozone in the air when it was a fuse, and Sarah detected not a bit of that particular scent.

Hesitating for only a moment, Sarah reasoned that a power outage when they were snowed in was better than when it was the middle of summer. They might not know when the power might get back with the storm raging, but Sarah was more or less sure that they could save their perishables if the power was out more than a few hours. Already her mind was calculating what they had in the refrigerator, what was nearly expired, what could last another few days, and what absolutely needed to be refrigerated; some things, she was sure, could even be taken out and left upon the counter, if the heat didn't come back on soon.

The girl turned large blue eyes down to herself, and nibbled at her lower lip as she stared at the sweater top. Overlarge, and draped over her slim form, it probably made her look younger than her sixteen years. But even the carefully woven fabric of her sweater, couldn't hide the fact that the cold had an effect upon her body. The girl shivered, and then crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her gaze towards the windows, to where the storm howled outside, and the sound of branches scraping against the side of the house echoed with more ferocity now that the power had been cut.

"Did you read anything about when the storm would let up, Daddy?" Sarah called in a quieter voice than she had yet used, and wished that she hadn't been reading about the point in her book where there had been storms, and snow on the ground. And her nervousness reflected in her voice, making it a little unsure as she turned to see if her Father was indeed coming. "It's really raging out there..."
 
She was worrying but he understood that fact without no trouble whatsoever. What was worry and stress for his young daughter was commonplace for the Father. He was almost a mental accountant, not that he ran numbers persee when it came to monetary figures...but he did it with everything. Percentages, probabilities, future variables. These were what he lived by, always hedging his bets, always playing securely, always ensuring that he moved in a manner that would lead him to the best possible outcomes. It had led to a very rich life, a very reasonable life, and one where he felt (at least statistically) was going to be quite a long one. Yet he had to make the right choices in times like these, he had to make sure that it was not just himself that was safe but she was. Looking briefly out the window his own mind was calculating the odds.

Probability was not working in their favor.

It was not that the storm outside was any danger to them at the moment, nor did he feel that there was anything resembling a problem when it came to food. What he worried about was heating. There would be no repair crews on the road in this, they would hardly be able to move in this harsh winter, and if they had lost power then more than likely it was due to the weight of the snow upon power lines. Lines which very well might have fallen to the ground. No, it was going to get cold and get cold relatively quickly. The house was insulated, the home reasonably safe, but it was a modern home that had modern conveniences. Far too new age. It was the kind of home that ran off electricity, had a false fireplace, and looked the part of rustic without losing any of the advancements of the last century. People apparently forgot at times that these kind of things could happen.

They had to ensure they were safe. They had to ensure that they remained warm. He could tell she was nervous, it was in her voice and as he entered the kitchen and gave her a small smile of gentleness before waving slightly towards her. "I think we will be fine, but we need to get better shelter. We have the small guest set up and bed downstairs, I want you to go down there. Get the dog, get some drinks and food, and I'll be down in a moment, I'm going upstairs to get some of the heavier blankets for us."

He had given her his marching orders, already knowing that she would be following them. From day one he had been the purest of authority figures, doing what a parent should do. Never compromising, never overly cruel, and completely unyielding. Boundaries were set, virtues encouraged, but his final say was quite literally the final say. So few parents had the patience for such a situation with toddlers and young children, they always wanted to give in just to make things easier and move it all along. That had not been him. He spoke and he expected completely agreement. With those words he moved past her and gave her shoulder a slight pat with one strong hand before heading to the stairs to retrieve the bedding.
 
A father's requests were absolute, of course. All her life, Sarah's father had known what to do in any crisis, and all her life, the most important male figure in her life had guided her with a gentle, but firm hand. There was no room for arguing, and there was no room for second guessing when her father was quite right; it would indeed get cold up in the house. Insulated as it was, it was not going to be warm for long without the heater running, and no matter how they might have packed the windows against the cold weather, air leaks did indeed happen and would sap whatever remaining warmth there might have been. It would be a few hours no doubt, until they could see their breath. Which meant that it was time to try to find something better.

Her father's requests that she gather drinks and food and their family dog was an order that she could easily follow, and Sarah turned large blue eyes to her father, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips as he patted at her shoulder, "Sure, Dad. I'll bring everything down."

No doubt in a few hours she could come up and put things like milk and eggs upon the counter; perhaps by early evening she could put the perishables out, and hope that it would be chilled enough that they didn't lose all of it. In the meantime... well, Sarah padded over towards their pantry, and looked through it a moment, before selecting the food that they wouldn't need to warm up and cook. Snack foods, cookies, and the like were all right... but there were other things in the fridge that didn't necessarily have to be warmed. Once Sarah had selected what foods would work for the moment, she went back to the fridge and began taking out tupperware. Roast beef and vegetables from last night's dinner, rice, chicken, bits of ham that she had been planning on frying up to help flavor tonight's dinner.

Well, at least she didn't have to cook tonight, and Sarah set to slicing meat and making up sandwhiches and small bowls of ready-to-eat meals that would probably be just as tasty even if they were a little chilled. Each sandwhich was wrapped up, the Tupperware bowls were sealed and stacked into a box along with their non-perishables, along with sliced vegetables and fruit, water, juice, coffee and tea... and of course, Tang. Sarah smirked to herself as she tossed the last into the crate, and then whistled for Max.

A large dog of indeterminate breed, he was a handsome and friendly sort. Every girl needed a good dog, and the large, dopey boxer-mix was still as sweet as he had been since he had first been presented to Sarah when she was a girl nearly six years ago. Now, the overly excitable beast of a dog came thundering down the stairs at his mistresses whistle, no doubt having been sleeping rolled up under her bed's blankets.

"What have you been up to?" Sarah asked, a wide smile upon her face as the dog skidded to a halt in front of her and sat politely. Max looked up to her with large, liquid brown eyes and Sarah smooshed his face to give him a kiss upon the head.

"C'mon, boy. Downstairs."

The dog followed Sarah as she picked up the crate, dancing behind her while one thick sock and then another touched the wooden stairs. Reaching out in the dark, Sarah found the switch, but...

"Oh yeah... I'm an idiot..." she murmured.

The lights were out. Sighing, the girl fished her phone from under her sweater, and turned on the torch to lead her down into the gloom. She wasn't usually allowed down here... but well, it was a special occasion... Besides, they needed to stay warm, and Max didn't seem to see any problem with thundering exuberantly down the stairs, happy-go-lucky as ever. She just hoped she didn't trip over him.
 
Unlike most homes where the basement became cluttered and stocked full of everything a house no longer wanted to see, her Father had kept their basement organized and relatively clean. Shelving, a work bench, and even the small guest setting he had spoken of. On the work bench and the wall behind it lay his tools that he occasionally used, even though he was not a man who engaged in home repair he was also not am an who felt like he needed to call for a repairman the moment something broke. The shelving held a variety of things, from their holiday decorations to the everyday accessories a home needed. The guest portion was a simple affair with a small nightstand and rollaway bed. They had never used it for much of anything, though there was little doubt that on occasion her Father had guests there. It was a place, much like most of the house, that the young girl knew of but had rarely frequented and within it there were perhaps mysteries that could be explored. Mysteries such as the large closet area she knew had been off limits to her entire life.

It loomed there, the doors seeming thick and well maintained. It was a closet that she would know instinctually was deep and full of extravagant amounts of space. The doors were ones that did not swivel outwards but instead slid into the walls so as to not interfere in the room itself. A walk-in, but why would such a space be downstairs like that? Perhaps she had never questioned it, perhaps she had never had the opportunity to do so, but now it was there before her while her Father rummaged around upstairs and the large dog moved to pounce up onto the couch behind her. In the darkness with only the flashlight on her phone to see, was one of the few secrets her Father kept from her. A flashlight which noted that this particular closet, the one that she had been barred from by the lock kept upon it, was partially open.

A mistake by her father, something so rare as to be nearly unknown.

She could hear him upstairs, moving around, the sound of his heavy feet signaling that he was indeed on the second floor. With the loss of air-conditioning and electricity it was easy to hear the echoes in the house, the wind howling outside the only thing obscuring the motions he might be making. It was a feeling of loneliness even in a house occupied, as if they were completely separate from the world outside and all that existed was the two of them. Down here she could not see outside, down here there was nothing but the well-maintained wood of her Father's closet space that would be a minor bit taunting to the curious and intelligent young woman. With her Father upstairs it might represent an opportunity to take a peak that she'd never felt she had before.

What would she do? What might be within?
 
Sarah was very proud of herself, to have gotten down the basement stairs with the heavy box without falling down them. Her thick woolen socks helped with that, no doubt, allowing her to feel for each step as she cautiously descended into darkness, with only her phone's light to lead the way. Had she not already known that Max had settled himself on the couch, she might have fallen the last couple steps anyway to see the dog's eyes pick up the shine of the cell, but Sarah was clearly made of sterner stuff. The girl placed the box down upon her Father's workbench, and heaved a quiet sigh as she heard him walking about upstairs.

The girl turned her eyes back to the dog and thought to bring down one of his dog beds; spoiled as he was, Max was still Sarah's baby. She had bought him two large pillows out of her own pocket money, and he still preferred sleeping in her room... and then sneaking into her bed. It was probably best to avoid that tonight, and she was intent on padding back up the stairs to go find one of the beds... only her light reflected off those doors to her Father's closet, and she realized that they were indeed open.

It was no more than half an inch... less, if one truly measured, but the flash of darkness was enough to catch the girl's attention. It yawned up in front of Sarah, a black beacon that beckoned her forward. All of her life, she had been warned to stay out of that one room in the house... She had her run of every part of it when she cleaned, and she respected her Father enough to leave his things alone when she tidied his room and his study.

But never in her life had Sarah been allowed to even peek inside the closet and see what lay behind those doors. And when she asked, her Father would only tell her in his firm, no-more-discussion-voice to drop the subject completely. It had always been a source of curiosity to the girl however... but the doors had never been opened like they were now, nor had they ever tempted her in with such sibilant innocence.

He must have been careless, in a hurry... but her Father was never careless... Perhaps he had closed it, but somehow the track was crooked, and the pocket door had rolled open again... Perhaps... perhaps he had left it open purposely... Perhaps her Father was testing her.

Sarah bit into her lower lip and she hesitated before the door. She had been taking silent steps forward as she ran over the possibilities in her mind, and now she stood before the door itself. Her Father was taking his time upstairs, and a quick peek wouldn't hurt anything.... All that remained was to pull the door open wide enough to look in.

When would she ever get such a chance again?

Biting at her lower lip again, Sarah glanced over her shoulder, and dared to move forward. Her fingers hooked upon the lip of the door, and she shone her light to the floor as she stepped inside. Turning, Sarah left the door open just wide enough to slip her form through, knowing that she would hear her Father's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs long before he actually arrived.

He would never know.

Biting harder at her lower lip, Sarah turned her eyes about, and adjusted the brightness on her phone's light to cast a whiter glow. Light reflected off metal and leather, and blinking, the girl frowned as she slowly walked further into the room... chains... whips... leather cuffs... gags.... Wide blue eyes became wider as Sarah cast her gaze around, and her breath stilled in her throat as she approached a wall and trailed her fingers up towards a set of manacles.

"No way.. Holy hell, Dad..."
 
The sheer massive amount of equipment was staggering, even more so how well maintained they happened to be. It now made sense the full amount of cleaners she had seen on she shelving out in the other portion of the basement, how well maintained the work bench was, how he kept things so nice and orderly. Her Father was a neat freak but this pushed up into an entirely differing level. The implements hung upon the wall like the tools they were, glistening, the leather and wood well maintained. This was a man who took pride in his work, in keeping things safe, in keeping them sanitary. Oh, he had definitely pushed the boundaries of women, he was not necessarily a man who subscribed to all those contractual obligations and safe words. He knew the difference between a no said in lust and a no said in earnest, he had no need for such things. Yet he would not endanger anyone, not in a way that they would regret, and so he cared for his equipment like they were trophies.

Like they were art.

For him they were. Each scream he enticed from the lips of a woman, each moan of pleasure that was ripped from her throat, and each quivering orgasm as tears flowed down their faces. It was pure art, pure beauty, and this room was kept in a manner more akin to a priest and the vestments of his religion. An altar to the flesh of a woman. Now the one woman he had never expected to find that room, the one woman he had kept from his perversions, had found it and he was about to have to reconcile that very fact as he came down the stairs to find her within that closet. He could see the shadow of her moving around, curious, looking at whatever might have caught her attention. Whatever she might be thinking about had prevented her from hearing him. It was more than likely the shock, the shock of what had been found within.

He was not sure if he was angry or pleased to finally be known by his daughter. That final secret revealed.

His large frame moved and he placed the blankets onto the couch, passing by the dog without a word to touch the door and he pushed it open fully. There was no doubt he was there not, no doubt that he was gazing on her. His eyes were like a predator, fixated on the prey he had captured in the act, watching her with the hint of something deep within. His lips pressed together with disapproval. Even if he might have been pleased at her understanding him further, he was most definitely displeased at her disobedience. He merely kept his gaze steady before stepping into the room, his large frame seeming more menacing as he passed by her and stepped up to the center piece. His preferred piece of bondage equipment, his hand coming to rest on the wood of the stocks as he traced his fingers almost lovingly on it.

He only said one thing, the only thing really that mattered. "You were not supposed to come in here, were you?"
 
All her life, Sarah had been an obedient girl... mostly. There had been times where she had pushed the envelope as all children did at one point or another. She had lied once or twice to the man when she had been at slumber parties about whether there would have been drinking, and of course, had made herself sick upon easily accessed alcohol. She had "forgot" certain dates or projects at school when she had absolutely needed an extension upon the deadline. And she had of course, conveniently failed to mention if one outing or another with her friends would indeed have mixed company, or that one or two of the young men in that mixed company had seemed to take an interest in her.

Each little white lie was carefully crafted, and spoken with care as Sarah knew better than anyone that her Father had an excellent nose for lies, and often he could sniff them out from a mile away. But then, she would never have guessed that he would keep this secret from her. Though, in retrospect, she reasoned that there was no way to approach her about this particular proclivity. She was the man's daughter, and some things you simply did not share with your children.

Sarah's fingers trailed over the tails of a leather flog as she shook her head quietly. No, there was no way that her Father would have ever have been able to look her in the eye, and tell her that he was a man of... certain tastes...

What should have taken only seconds, a quick peek into her father's secrets before she settled herself down next to her dog again instead took up several minutes, each tool and implement on the wall, each piece of equipment demanding her attention from the thin light of her cellphone, and each thing she saw made her wish that she had the full use of the lights so she might get a better view of her Father's hobby. But the girl lost track of time, absorbed in this secret life he had hidden away from her over the past sixteen years or so, and she did not realize that she had been discovered until she heard the roll of the door being pushed open.

The man spared no time for stealth, for indeed why should he? Sarah was the one intruding upon his domain, and Sarah was the one who had broken his trust. The girl felt her heart pound a little louder in her chest as she felt the man's presence, and turned to see his frame, his shadow really, fall across the doorway. Blue eyes widened as she saw him standing there and filling up the door frame. He was not a small man and it was impossible not to feel that initial rush of animalistic fear when his shadow fell across the door and she saw him. She was caught; there was nowhere to hide in this room, nowhere to run, and Sarah stared like a deer caught in the headlights, as her Father's glittering eyes landed upon her.

For a moment, nobody spoke and Father and daughter regarded one another quietly across the shadowed darkness. She could not see his featured clearly, but she knew this quiet and foreboding silence well enough as the man approached. She nearly cringed as his tall frame stepped passed her and slid his fingers against polished wood of what seemed to be a piece straight out of medieval times. And when he spoke her Father's voice was pitched low and velvet in a tone that always made her shiver. He only used that voice when he was particularly displeased with her, and it never failed to have the girl standing just a little straighter and made her stomach twist into knots as he asked a question that they both knew the answer to. But even if it was rhetorical, Sarah also knew that her Father wanted some answer from her.

"I..." she started, only to close her mouth as she watched her Father's form, and resisted the urge to shine her light higher. She desperately wanted to see the man's face, to gauge his reaction. But she thought better of anything that might further displease him as she took a slow breath.

Lies never helped, and nor did excuses; the man could always see right through them. And so, Sarah swallowed against the lump of nerves in her throat, and she gave a shake of her head as she stared to the solid black shadow that was her Father.

"No, Daddy..." she murmured in a soft voice that sounded steadier than she felt. "The door was open and I was curious. But I should have respected your privacy."

Turning her eyes about towards the shadowed tools and bits of leather and polished metal on the walls, the girl bit back the urge to squirm in place while standing among the instruments of sweet torture, and she instead kept her eyes upon her Father's shadow.

"I don't think I would have guessed that... Well, that this was what you had down here. I was expecting... well, not this."
 
"Yes, you should have."

The words held there in the silence of the room, the darkness seeming to provide a weight to them. His features were still obscured, his demeanor still seeming a bit enigmatic. It was the way he stood there next to those stocks that truly expressed who her Father might truly be. The slightly shoulder width stance, the way he was braced and held, his hand resting upon the wood as if it were a familiar old friend. His head seemed tilted somehow as if he were looking down on a woman who might be kneeling there. How many young ladies had seen her Father in that very position, standing there and demanding that they strip for his view? How many women had seen him so lovingly caress his toys before treating them with the same affection?

It might very well be countless.

His voice however grew a bit more resigned, and for the first time she could hear that he might have regretted her finding it as he spoke. "However, I should never have left the door unlocked. It was an oversight. So, we will forget this has happened for now." He had said for now and that might be a clue that her Father would willingly discuss it at a later date...whenever that might be. He moved away from it, stepping into the light to look down at her, the eyes on his face seeming soft even through the rigid expression. Perhaps he felt that she might not quite appreciate who and what she had found within this realm. It did not matter as he reached out and touched her arm, guiding her out of there.

There would be no punishment it seemed. Instead he physically moved her from the room, his fingers hard on her arm though not overly cruel. He moved her back, placing her into the basement, and turning around he reached both hands out to grip the sliding doors and slid them together with a resounding clang. His hands moved to touch the lock, placing it back and ensuring it snapped down. This was no key, this was combination, and only her Father would happen to know it. Unless his young girl decided to break that lock in some fashion, then she would forever be barred from it. His voice was soft, quiet as he looked back at her and spoke.

"Make the bed for us, Sarah."
 
The girl looked back when her father took her arm and firmly guided her out of his private room; it was utterly impossible not to turn and stare once more into a strangeness than ran deeper than she ever would have guessed. She saw the last of the light reflecting off bits of metal, the scent of oiled leather replaced by the general mustiness of the basement. And when her father let her go and turned to shut the doors, Sarah turned too, and continued to stare into the darkness. Unconsciously, she moved to her toes and peered over her father's head, her eyes straining to catch the shadows of hunched bits of equipment, crouched animals in the dark waiting for their master's touch.

And as her Father locked the door with a resounding click, Sarah was reminded that the man who had raised her was the master. He had collected those toys and instruments, he had maintained them over the years; he had... he had used them on women...

Sarah's throat was a little dry as she watched her Father latch the door closed to stop her from ever intruding upon his private life again. The face of the combination lock stared back at her, taunting and daring her to try to break it's code. There were ways to crack it, she knew... she just had to do the right internet search about opening combination locks.

But in the meantime, her Father looked back to her and his face was unreadable. He had stared at her in the room, and his eyes had glittered in a way that had been almost predatory. She had felt like a rabbit pinned by a fox, or a wolf, helpless to move as he had stared at her with that steady, even gaze.

Even the man's words had held a weight she could not fathom, worse than when she was caught misbehaving, worse than when she would fail a test, or bring back a bad grade from her classes. Sarah had felt... well, the weight of the man's words alone had been enough to bring about a faint shiver that skated up and down her spine. But as her Father looked to her now, Sarah could read nothing at all as she felt her throat threatening to tighten, before she simply swallowed and nodded to the man as he told her to make up the bed.

No punishment, no more word on the matter... Biting into her lower lip, Sarah worried at the soft flesh a moment as she moved to the blankets her Father had brought down. For a moment, she did not say a word while she instead set to work and turned down one set of sheets, and began to fit a clean set over them, and pile the blankets on top one after another. And for her, the silence stretched on while her stomach clenched, her urge to speak about something, anything, rearing it's ugly head. As the silence became awkward, and her mind began to race around the unspoken elephant in the room, Sarah's gut twisted in on itself, and her curiosity burned as she glanced briefly to her Father. She blew a curling tendril of hair from her face, and then dropped her eyes back to the blankets a moment.

"You don't really date..." the girl blurted out after a moment, and she wished desperately that she had stayed silent. She couldn't lift her eyes again, but instead turned her gaze back to the sheets while she frowned to them. "Do you bring women home when I'm at school?"
 
Her Father had not remained idle as she began making the bed, instead he had moved to adjust some of the furniture and to organize the food and water that they had access to. As she was making the bed in silence, he was busy keeping mental track of what they would need to survive a few days if the power did not come back on. There were always stories, always fears of such things. Yet that often was the worry of someone older, of the elderly who could not take care of themselves. It was not as if he could not make it to a neighbors house if necessary, but it would be a hard go of it without a vehicle. If he lived closer to the city, if he had not demanded a bit of space from the world, then maybe his daughter would not be in danger at the moment.

Though the real danger might be in the room he had just locked.

As she spoke her words he himself did not answer her, but she was answered by the sound of music that began filtering into the air. 80's rock, some classic station her father loved listening to, and with it came a bit of relief as it became evident what his final task had been in this moment. He had been setting up a small AM/FM radio that worked on batteries. Where he'd had it stashed in that downstairs room was anyone's guess, but there it was...providing a bit of solace from the sound of wind howling outside. He turned towards her as he took in her question, surprised that she'd even had the audacity to ask him something of the sort.

His voice was musing as he spoke. "Why do you care so much?" He said with one raised eyebrow, literally the sound of his voice seeming to hold a measure of relentlessness. He did not expect to be questioned, in anything he did, least of all by her. His large frame moved away from the work bench where he had sat up the radio, looking down at the fold out bed with it's covers upon it and he took his shoes off, leaving his socks on as he raised one cover to lay back against the large couch cushions. He sat there, letting her stew before finally giving her an answer.

"Yes I do. Yes they like it. Yes they often come back for more. Is that what you want to hear, Sarah?"
 
One song ended, and Hungry Like the Wolf began to play. One of her favorite songs from the 80's era, the irony was not lost upon Sarah that she had been thinking her Father's eyes were predatory in the dim light earlier. Now, out of that room and in better lighting, her Father looked more himself, and less like that frightening, solid shadow that watched her with those glittering eyes in the dark, while he lovingly caressed one device or another. Still, the edge in the man's voice was enough to have Sarah's spine stiffening just a touch.

There was something in her Father's voice, a touch of sharpness there that told her that she should drop the subject promptly, a tone that she had not quite heard from him before. She knew her Father when he was angry. She knew the tone of voice he used when he was disappointed in her, and she knew exactly how he sounded when he was frustrated. But she had never quite heard this particular pitch. And for a moment, the girl was tempted to bite into her lower lip as he asked her why she cared.

Hesitating a moment, her mouth opened as her Father tucked his feet under a blanket, and she found herself curling her leg under herself as she sunk down upon the opposite edge of the bed. Father and daughter regarded one another for a scant moment before her Father went on to speak. She knew immediately he was trying to shock her, perhaps to prod her away from the topic. But Sarah heard a challenge in the man's voice, and she felt as if he were awaiting a reaction, perhaps a flush of embarrassment, or shyness.

Sarah held her gaze firm, and her brows furrowed a little as she stared to her Father, and then shook her head. Apparently his little girl was not quite so naive as to flinch from such a blithe statement. Instead, Sarah took her Father's words as a challenge as she frowned to the man.

"Come on, Dad," the girl murmured as she shook her head. "I'm not a little kid. I get that you're into some... kinky stuff..." Sarah said, grasping for the correct term, and finally settling upon something that seemed to be a pretty catch-all phrase.

"Besides, you've managed to keep this a secret from me for the last sixteen years, and you've raised me alone. That's a freaking accomplishment, right there," the girl pointed out. "You can't expect me not to be curious about this."
 
His eyes never left hers as she spoke and when she refused to break her gaze he merely stared as if she had gone mad. It was beyond tenable, beyond acceptable, and that face slowly began to change right before her very eyes. His brows furrowed, the creases in his forehead showing as his eyes narrowed just the tiniest of bits. His cheeks became more stark, harsh as his jaw tightened and his teeth came together. It caused his full lips to purse just slightly as he gazed at her with such unrelenting ferocity as to be frightening. Her Father had barely moved however, regardless of how much of an impact the emotions might be it was all done with the most imperceptible of body language. It was a testament to how well the young girl knew her father that she even picked up on any of it.

He was deep in a cold anger.

She had questioned him and when she was young he would have punished her for it. Would have bent her young self over his knee and spanked her ass until she was raw. Yet he would not have done it with violence, it would have been as cold and calculating as the winter outside. That was always his way, an unwillingness to give into explosive responses. An unwillingness to just hurt someone out of monstrous anger. He always contained it, controlled it, kept it focused...but it was there. She had dared to give him lip and after he had shown her mercy. That was the part which truly had made it under his skin. She had broken the rules and had dared to push further after he had not punished her. Rebelliousness was not something he would stomach and his voice was calm and direct as he spoke.

"Be as curious as you want, but realize I will not answer....and that you will be punished." He lay back, his eyes closing slightly as he spoke. "Now, the best thing we can do right now is sleep. It will be dark soon anyways and hopefully power will come back on shortly. Now go to bed." He said it firmly, brooking no reply. What he might do if she pushed him remained to be seen, but in his mind she had toed the line and understood that the response would be unsavory to say the least. It might very well be better merely to get some rest.
 
Punished.

The word hung, dark and menacing in the dim room, as Sarah stared across the way at her Father. The girl's eyes were fixed upon the man's face with a certain sense of alarm. It was a rare day that Sarah saw this look of cold fury upon her Father's face. After all, she like all teenagers, fibbed a bit. And her punishments were dealt out accordingly. But rarely had Sarah tested her Father's patience to the point that she saw this menacing, and dangerous expression upon his face. And just as it had made her shiver when she had been a child, the girl felt the first tinglings of icy trepidation skate up and down her spine.

Sarah could not help the shiver that passed though her, even under her Father's sharp gaze. Instead, she finally dropped her eyes away, becoming quiet as she chewed nervously at her lower lip. She had no idea what her Father was planning, but she supposed she should be thankful that it would not come now. No... her Father was probably going to think on it, and he would launch his punishment as soon as the heat came on again.

Until then, she felt the heat of his eyes leaving her, and she dared glance up to see that the man had gone ahead and laid down upon the bed. The discussion was quite clearly closed, and further comment upon it would likely just earn her a solid slap. Perhaps she might press a little at another time. But it was clear to her that her Father wanted to keep a few secrets to himself for a little while longer. Sarah would have to respect that... And she clearly was supposed to just go to bed to try to keep warm...

Frowning to herself, Sarah wished that she had thought to pick up a few books from her room. She would have on her intended trip up, had the sight of an opened door not been such a tempting invitation. She might have read by candlelight, or looked for her portable book light. But she hadn't... and she supposed that she wouldn't have been allowed the chance to read anyway, as angry as her father seemed.

Sighing quietly, Sarah realized that speaking further was useless for now and instead took the band from her hair and unwound the braid. She took a moment to run her fingers through her hair, and reached through her sweater to unhook her bra. Underwire was impossible to sleep in, and the girl had been burdened with heavy breasts that required a bra with any outfit. But even if she had to share a bed with her Father, she planned to be comfortable. Her arms slipped into the sweater, and the straps slid down her arms and out from the hem of her sweater. Her instrument of lacy torture hung against the bedpost, Sarah slipped her arms back through her sleeves, and she pulled up her side of the blankets. The sheets were chilled as she slipped into them, and Sarah shuddered as she curled herself into them. Pillowing the pillow against her arm, Sarah curled herself away from her Father, and towards the wall not out of anger but for simple comfort. She was a side-sleeper, and bundled under the blankets, she curled herself up for warmth, tucking her toes tight against her body as she gave a final sigh.

Comfortable as she could be in a bed that was not her own, Sarah closed her eyes and tried to quiet her mind.

She tried for a good twenty minutes, then turned over onto her other side. Another twenty or so, and Sarah's breathing slowly became even, and she slipped off into a dreamless sleep as she rolled onto her back. Hair tossed about her pillow in a wave of auburn, the girl slept comfortably enough at her Father's side, despite whatever punishment he might ultimately decide upon. She had survived the spankings as a child, and endured lectures, shouting, and all the rest that most children survived.

She could handle whatever punishment her Father deemed necessary for this later infraction.
 
Comfort was not on her Father's mind.

No, his mind was elsewhere as his young girl lay in bed next to him. It was on the fact that she had gone into his private sanctum and seen him for who he truly was. It was on the fact that in that one revealing moment it had been more than him that was revealed, but her as well. He had seen it in the lines of her body, the way she had ducked her head and moved...nearly retreating, nearly posturing in a motion of servitude. The tilt of one's body when they felt that a blow was coming, but they were hoping that the hand would be kind to them. In that room he had gazed upon her and she upon him, and she had wanted what she saw. He had been revealed and his little daughter had craved what he offered. It was something that had begun to make his blood boil, begun to make him sick to his stomach with need, and he had contained it.

He contained it while she fell asleep next to him, having ignored so much in those few moments before she lay down. His teeth had gritted together as she removed her bra and he saw those heavy orbs moving beneath her sweater. Ignored it as she moved around, breathing, quietly adjusting herself and he understood that her young tight flesh was so very close to him. It had left him trembling even if she could not feel that, and even if she could he would have chalked it up to the cold. Maybe that was what he would tell himself as he lay there next to her...that he was cold, that he was freezing and just needed to get warm. That the emotions he was feeling were something that had no place when it was his daughter's body laying next to him and not some...fuckhole he had found on the street.

Ignored it...

Yet he could ignore it no longer, his eyes dark and that of a predator just as she had seen earlier. They turned towards her in the dim light of the candles nearby and he gazed at her lovely hair. One hand came up, trembling for just a second as he felt a mild bit of guilt and then touched her hair. Caressing her, caressing as if he were comforting her, but he knew better inside. His eyes closed and his face tightened, biting his lip just slightly but it was far too late inside. He would hate himself, he did love her, but...he needed this. Needed something. She would never wake up he told himself, never know what was happening....and so he moved the covers down and to the side to reveal her back and her bottom. Admiring the curve of his young girl's sweet form. His free hand came to undo his pants as he lay there, slipping out that mammoth prick so that he could begin masturbating...

He hoped he would not wake her, for at this point if he did...he might very well fuck her.
 
One thing that most women could say of winter; it was one of the easiest and most comfortable seasons to dress for. Sarah loved this time of year, because a pair of cute spandex, boots, and an overlong sweater was all that was needed, with a coat for extreme temperatures. She herself had done just that this morning when she had gotten ready for class. And the black leggings clung to every curve of her ass as her Father pulled the blankets down over her hip.

The knit sweater, large and made to hang to her thighs, was pulled up from Sarah's tossing. It rode high upon her body, exposing a long line of firm flesh, and the apple round rear end that was usually demurely covered with her sweater or coat. Now, curled as she was upon the bed, the spandex were pulled tight to reveal the pale cheeks of her ass, highlighted by the dark and scant panties that had disappeared somewhere between them. And while the girl did curl a little tighter at the sudden chill, she did not quite wake.

Instead, the girl shifted just enough that the underside of heavy breasts peeked out from under the rumpled sweater. Still, Sarah continued to sleep, the picture of innocence. Sweet, untouched and forbidden, she slept quietly, breathing evenly, and was completely unaware that her Father was obeying one of the most primal and necessary urges, trying desperately to assuage them. Innocent to the knowledge that she was the object of her father's desires, the girl continued to sleep, and would have continued to sleep had her Father not run his fingers through her hair.

It had always been a comforting gesture when she had been little, a sensation she had craved. She loved it when her Daddy would indulge her as a child, and brush or braid her hair, and she would calm any tears soon enough when her Daddy would hold her close and pet her hair while he hugged her. It was a pleasant sensation to wake up to as well, though she had not expected to slide her eyes open again so soon after closing them. Blue eyes fluttered open, and Sarah gave a slow stretch that made the cling of the material to the girl's ass all the more sheer.

Her eyes shifted back though, and turned her meet her Father's gaze first. Then her gaze dropped down and she saw the monster in his hand. Her lips parted with shock, and the girl felt her throat growing a little tight. Her Father was... well, utterly huge, his length monstrous enough to make things low in her belly clench as she stared at him. And despite herself, her face flushed as she thought of what he might look like fully hard.

Her lips parted with shock, and her face began to flush as she felt her nipples tightening, and the girl realized that they had slipped from beneath the sweater, and were becoming hard little peaks in the chill of the air. Her hands came up automatically to cover them with the demureness that one would expect from Daddy's little girl... but her brows were knitting, an almost imperceptible change coming over her face as she stared up to the man. This was wrong, terribly wrong, but the way her Father stared down at her was mesmerizing.

There was fear there, but there was an undeniable rush of adrenaline as well, the knowledge that she was suddenly prey without ever knowing she was being stalked... And that knowledge flushed through her, making her heart pound just a bit as her eyes drifted back down to her Daddy's dick.

Her tongue slipped against her lips to wet them, and she shifted upon the mattress as her face flushed, and she glanced up to the man above her once more, "You're touching yourself..." she pointed out in a quiet voice. "While you're looking at me, Daddy..."
 
She didn't deny him and that was the moment that would break open everything between the two of them. She did not deny him, she did not revile him, she did not look upon him as some disgusting human being. Instead she looked at him mesmerized, entranced as he stopped masturbating and merely gripped that thick shaft. He held it there, wrapping those fingers around the base of himself and he watched her eyes. He watched her exactly like they were animals come cross each other in a forest, a mountain lion staring down a deer. He was unrelenting in the way he stared at her, his mouth opening just slightly to breath heavily, his chest rising and falling for a second as he took in everything. He knew what he wanted to do, what he craved doing, and so it was a given that he would do it.

He was not a man who denied himself overly. She spoke and he replied simply. "Yes I am."

Yet that reply came with something else as his free hand moved to touch one of her hands as she covered those amazing breasts, gripping the wrist to move it out of the way and he leaned over her to latch upon her nipple. It was done with that predator nature that had so captivated her, everything seemed to fall into the natural order of things. He was a dominator, a taker, a user....and she was the used. If he was near, he would have her if he so chose....just as the lion would have his meal. His mouth gripped tightly and he was hardly gentle as he applied pressure, his tongue lashing across the tip of her nipple as he gave a slow groan of want for her. His eyes blazed, opening as he looked up at her...their bodies so close and his other hand jerked her thighs open as he moved on top of her.

He had not undressed her, had not done anything other than take her as she was. He had loved every inch of her curvy frame, the beautiful form of his little girl, and he gave a slow moan of appreciation as he rocked his hips against her. He was manhandling her now, the hand on her wrist tightening as his other hand came free...no longer needing to stroke that fat dick since he had her to grind against, and he moved it up to snag hold of her other arm as he held her down against the bed. Her own father, dry humping her through the spandex, his eyes dark and burning as he broke contact with that breast to stare down at her and he whispered.

"You don't mind too much, do you?"
 
It wasn't fair that she was so sensitive, and it wasn't fair that her Father's eyes captivated her, so. It was the same, glittering look he had worn when the man had stared her down in his private room, the same dangerous gaze that she had seen while he had regarded her, and made her feel like prey caught in the stare of a predator. It was a look that froze her in place, and made it impossible for her to move, impossible for her to react. Caught under her Father's gaze, where she should have twisted away, she laid there, looking back up to the man. And when her Father's hand caught a hold of her wrist she should have cried out for him to let her go.

Instead, his mouth descended upon her nipple, and her body arched up from the mattress, a choked sound that was somewhere between a cry and a moan echoing from her throat while his tongue tortured the tight little peak her nipple had become, and her Father's rough touch jerked her legs apart.

It was impossible to really resist him; her Father was a large, imposing man, and Sarah could not fight against his weight or his grip when she herself had grown up slim and small. He easily dwarfed her, and his sudden weight as he moved over her was a shock for how quickly it happened. The girl had never expected that her Father could move so quickly, or that his eyes could pierce her so deeply. And yet, a part of her knew that this was wrong, even as he pinned her to the bed with all the ease in the world. Any sound of protest that might have slipped from Sarah's lips was quite suddenly silenced as she felt that weight centering over her, and her Father's form coming to rest into the cradle of her body. His hand gripping her wrist, the girl instead tried to push against his shoulder and relieve some of that heavy weight, only to find her other wrist caught up and pinned against the bed.

Sarah was left with her sweater hiked up above her breasts and exposed to the cold, her hands pinned against the sheets as her Father held her down. And then she felt a thick, heavy weight between her legs, running over the thin material of panties and leggings. It was hot against her flesh, even through the material of her clothes, and such a difference in temperature that it brought another breathless gasp to the girl's lips. Still, worse than the way her Father held her down with his hands, was the way he pinned her with those glittering eyes of hers.

Even in the shadows, she felt that she couldn't hide the sudden flush of color to her face as he rocked his hips, and that thick, heavy length of his ran against her. Pinned in place by the man's gaze, the sudden shudder as the girl felt her own heat awakening in her body was impossible to miss. Her lips parted, her voice coming out a trembling mewl as she felt herself reacting without ever meaning to. But then, her Father had always been an overwhelming force, something that could not be stopped or reasoned with. And as the man tugged his lips away from her breast to stare at her, and whisper those dark words, the girl could not help but turn her face away from his, even as she squirmed in place in an effort to get away.

Her senses were coming back as sleep fled, and she knew... Sarah knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, that no matter what other proclivities her Father might have, it was time to put an end to this. But the man held her pinned, her legs askew even as she tried to close her knees, and her struggles did nothing while she was pinned, except hike the sweater a little higher as she shook her head.

"Y-You need to let me go, Daddy..." Sarah tried in a soft voice, half afraid that if she didn't speak up now, that she might not at all.

"Let me go," she said in a firmer voice, forcing it to not tremble, and be surer than she felt. "I'm your daughter. You need to let me go."
 
His eyebrows raised as she said such words and he gave her a solemn hard stare. It was not the kind of stare that he used when furious, it was the cool one that merely informed her that she was out of line. She had stepped out of line so many times in this evening that it was ridiculous. She had gone into the room she had been forbidden, she had spoken out of turn when discussing his relationships with women, she had dared even try to challenge him concerning it all. Now, now with him on top of her and pinning her down with his weight she dared to think that she could speak to him in this fashion. It bordered on pure insanity and he decided to merely stare down with those cool eyes. He could feel the heat of her, rising upwards, feel how she was responding to him even if she could not admit it yet. The arousal in her hard nipples, the way her little hips moved, and her gasp. It was his to claim and he spoke to her now.

"Keep your mouth closed. If you have not understood it yet, then let me make it damned clear to you. Consider this your punishment for earlier. You wanted to know what those women felt, didn't you? I saw your face, do not lie to me." His voice grew harder as he spoke, as if it angered him that she might actually be liking this...or that she had liked what had been in the room.

His hands forced her wrists together above her head, pressing the slender wrists into one of his large hands so he could free his hand. It let him brace his weight so he could lean back, lean off of her and admire those heavy tits...the definite intended target of his hand which began to spank them. Back and forth he did so, idly doing it like this was the most common place thing in the world to engage in. His hand came down again and again, occasionally slapping over her nipples, and then finally he clamped his hand down hard and dug his fingers in. God the feel of her, she felt so fucking good, far better than her Mother ever had. His eyes widened as that thought filtered into his mind and was given life there, suddenly his gaze jerked up to meet hers and she could see it completely.

That was the moment his composure broke.

The man she knew as her Father was gone, replaced by that dominant animal she had suspected was in that room. His fingers slid up, raking to grip her right nipple and he slowly tugged upon it...his teeth catching his bottom lip for a moment as he admired how hard the flesh became beneath his fingertips. His hips had kept himself tight against her, that thick shaft pulsing, precum leaking out to dot the spandex and the panties beneath...a small feeling of the wetness of his need that mingled perhaps with the wetness of her own. His voice grew dark, twisted as he whispered.

"Don't make me rape you, Sarah."
 
Sarah's lips parted with confusion, but no sound came from them as her Father all but accused her of liking what she had seen in the room that the man had secreted away from her for sixteen years. Eyes widened as he reminded her that she was due for a punishment... but she had never expected her dear Father to suddenly snap, and become... this...

"Dad, stop!" the girl cried out as she felt her wrists suddenly pinned in one large hand, but the plea fell upon deaf ears.

A chilled rush of fear ran through her as she felt herself quite firmly stuck into place. Unable to get any leverage at all, Sarah's eyes widened as she looked up to the shadowed figure of her Father above her, but she was unable to see his face. Instead, all the girl saw was her Father's hand as his palm came down and slapped against her breasts hard enough to have the girl crying out. The first slap was jarring, enough to have her twisting beneath him as a shocked sound came from Sarah's throat, deep and offended. And then at the next slap and the next, her body jerked beneath her Father, and her cries became sharper.

It was vaguely reminiscent of when her Father would take her over his knee and spank her bottom when she had been a child. She would squeal, and writhe, and try to get away, but her Father always held her firm. The same held true now while the girl's face flushed with embarrassment. Each slap to heavy breasts sent her twisting, trying to hide them away from her Father's palms, each slap pinkening pale flesh. And worse, each slap against her already tight little nipples was making them sing with sensation.

And when her Father's hand dug into firm, young flesh, his grip made her give a low and guttural groan as she trembled, her nipple digging into his palm.

Sarah lay there panting for breath as the felt her Father shift, but as her eyes slid up in an attempt to meet his gaze, the man's fingers caught her nipple, and tugged against it. Sensation zinged straight through her, a bright red line that came from the tight grip against her nipple, straight down her body to her groin, and Sarah became acutely aware of how hot her Father's cock was against her as she mewled.

Her pussy gave a short pulse, only to have the girl's eyes opening again, staring up to her Father's shadowed face. A tremble went through her small body, half in growing, heated need, and another in cold fear... She could not see her Father's expression, but she did not doubt from his tone that he would indeed rape her... He would fuck her raw, and leave her there upon the bed completely spent if she resisted him...

Biting into her lower lip, Sarah fought against the urge to squirm against his grip. His fingers at her breast, his hard, heavy cock pulsing against her pussy through the thin layers of clothes... those were impossible to deny, and she tried to focus on those things as her stomach gave an unpleasant twist.

"I... I'll be a good girl..." she murmured in a soft voice. "I promise."
 
He could see the sickness and uncertainty in her eyes as she spoke, the way she writhed with fear and with excitement. The poor young girl was trapped completely between the throes of arousal and shame and it only made her Father harder for her, only made him pulse a bit more. His balls were already heavy with cum, he knew he could take her at that moment. Take her and utterly fuck her wide open. Yet his little girl had promised him she would be good and that was something he could hardly pass up. She had seen the room nearby, she should have understood that a man such as he did not rush towards the end of the line. No, he liked to take his time with a woman. He liked to torture them, to push them, to have them finally look up at him with trembling eyes and beg him to cum. It was so powerful those moments, so utterly heart stopping to hear a woman begging for him. He would go hours fully aroused just to finally cum when he had broken them down.

He needed to break down his little Sarah.

So he looked down into her eyes and gave a slow nod of his head, accepting her words and her shame. Accepting them as if they were part of his own soul, feeling it stir inside of him and settled into the pit of his stomach. His body shook as he reined in his need and he slowly moved, making sure not to hurt her now. This would be a telling moment for them both as he adjusted. He pushed her hands down hard, informing her in that motion that he did not expect her to fucking move, and his entire body changed positions. He scooted up and moved his legs so that he straddled her upper torso. His knees came to where they braced up onto her upper arm, however he leaned back using his muscled thighs so that his heavy weight was not upon her. No, it was just a sincere reminder that he was completely in charge. It freed his hands doing so, freed them so that he could take better control of his little....slut.

His eyes met hers, his face no longer nearly as shadowed as he straightened so that she could see it in the candelight. Still the face of her father and yet there was something more there, a domineering presence that wanted to ravage her. Wanted to hurt her. She needed his love at that moment, needed him to recognize that she was Sarah and more than the women he had locked down in that dungeon beneath their house. For is he did not remember his love for her, if he did not remember how much she mattered, then there was no doubt that this could get much worse. His thick cock was ready, nine inches of hard meat that pulsed along the underside and he took her breasts in his hands to press them together around that shaft.

His hips began to rock, moving back and forth, and he nearly spit down upon her to give himself a bit of lube but instead he pushed forward so that the head peaked from between those tits and he whispered down to her, his voice demanding and inhuman. "Get some spit on that head, little girl. We need some lube to make this work for us."
 
Had the poor girl only known what was in store for her, she might have fought harder against her Father and that unwanted, but needful touch that demanded her obedience and her submission to every one of his wants. But the girl was afraid, and though to lessen the burden at least a little by not fighting. It was a shame that was not going to be. Hours of torment, hours of her Father making her shudder, and scream, and hurt...

Sarah had no idea what was in store for her, but she would comply for now. Her Father nodded down to her, and accepted her promise to be good. Sarah swallowed against the lump in her throat, and tried to keep herself from trembling before the man. True to her word, she did not move when he came closer, bringing that thick piece of throbbing flesh closer. Instead she held her place, her back stiff while she turned her face to the side, rather than let the man see the flush across her face. The pressure upon her arms made her stiffen a little, a final note that the girl would not be going anywhere, that she was well and truly pinned with her Father's weight over her. His hands free as he kneeled across her chest, there was no way she could pitch him over, no way she could hope to escape from him. For now, she was his to use as she glanced up to him, only to feel a pit gathering in her gut as he looked at her.

Her Father stared down at her not as a parent, and not even as a man; there was something dark and hungry in that stare, something that pierced her right to the soul and left the girl utterly bare before him. Worse than her state of undress, worse than the sudden hot press of his member against the bare, pale valley between her breasts. The man was thick and heavy, hard and pulsing as her Father pressed her sore breasts together, and began to move. Gasping as she felt his flesh drag against her own, Sarah's stomach squirmed under her Father's gaze, and things lower in her belly began to grow hot when she glanced down to see her Father's wide, blunt head rocking towards her face.

It was at his demand that she was jerking her head up again, and the girl's blue eyes widened for a moment before she swallowed hard. She had promised to be good... for the sake of it being over soon, and for the sake of not being hurt, Sarah ran her tongue over her lips, and she leaned forward, her face filling with crimson. It probably wasn't surprising that Sarah hadn't been with anyone. Her Father's domineering presence made it difficult to bring boys over, and Sarah didn't often go to parties... the girl was a true, sweet sixteen... and now her mouth was opening, and full lips pressed against the head of her Daddy's cock.

He was broader than Sarah ever thought, thick enough that her mouth could not easily get around him. And as she passed her tongue against his slit, there was a bitter taste that made her shudder, salty and unfamiliar and anyone could see in an instant that she was too delicate, too careful as she tried to not taste her Father's precum. Instead she slid him into her mouth carefully, wincing a little and worked to get him wet, before she dragged her tongue and lips back carefully as she glanced up to him.

"Is that enough?" she asked in a voice that clearly hoped her Father would be done with her soon.
 
Was that enough?

The very idea was laughable. What man would just nod his head and agree that such a thing was enough? What man would even have that thought within his head? Perhaps some weak-willed spineless little cretin, but not this man. Not her Father. How could he ever come to just shrug and think that a young girl's mouth wrapped around the head of his huge fucking cock was enough? That he would never want more, that he could just give his agreement and walk off like he was some contented little whelp? No, he could never say such a thing. His eyes were lambent, she had seen it when she was looking at him, looking all the more like an animal than that of a human being. It was a darkness inside of him. Wherever it had come from, whatever had created her Father, this was not the normal response of a person. This was deviant and twisted, this was a wrenching of the soul.

Perhaps it was events like what he was doing to his little daughter that had turned him into the man he was now?

Whatever it was did not matter at the moment. He was not going to bother explaining himself to Sarah, nor was he going to stop taking what he needed. She said those words and one hand left one of those fabulous tits as he moved forward a tiny bit more, taking hold of her hair and holding her in place. She had asked if it was enough, he did not bother to give her the answer in words. Instead he mounted her face and shoved down deep inside of her throat. He made his little girl open her mouth wide, pressing past her gag reflex, pressing to the hilt down inside of her fucking little tummy and at that moment she heard her father give the only sound he was going to make at the moment.

He moaned with his balls resting against her chin.
 
Sarah had hoped that her Father might take some mercy upon her if she were to do as she were told, and be a good girl as she had promised. She had never expected that her Father would become this sort of creature, and completely destroy her throat and will with one fell swoop.

The grip to her hair was her first true warning, but Sarah was hardly able to react before her Father's cock was forced into her mouth, and to the back of her throat. And when her Father's cock reached it, he forced her throat open, the head of his cock pushing down towards her stomach without a moment's warning. Blue eyes snapped open wide and filled with sudden tears as Sarah's mind suddenly went blank. Head tilted back, with her Father's cock buried to the hilt in her throat, Sarah became aware of her jaw opened painfully wide, throat filled and stretched b the thick, pulsing length.

She couldn't breathe, and her fingers grasped helplessly at her Father's legs. His pants saved him from her nails as they dug into the fabric, clawing helplessly for air. Her Daddy's cock filled her throat so completely as he pressed completely into her mouth, but Sarah could not help the tears that leaked from her eyes as she squirmed beneath him. Panic lanced through her, every muscle clenching with fear as she choked, trying to gag against his cock and eject that thick piece of meat as she writhed beneath him.

She couldn't breathe; he was going to kill her. She was going to die here, choking on her Father's cock... panic slowly began to set in, spots dancing before her wide, unseeing eyes... her body gave another jerk, tugging against her Father's grip in a desperate attempt to pull back.

She needed to breathe...
 
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