Good Boy, Daddy Chapter 3

I stood outside her bedroom door, sweating. The hall was pitch-black except for a line of faint gold where the bottom of Kila’s door failed to meet the carpet, and it felt like standing on the edge of a canyon. I could hear nothing, not even the old pipes knocking or the click of Bryn’s reading lamp down the hall. Just the rush of blood in my ears and the humid, sticky fear that if I so much as breathed wrong, Kila would hear me and drag me straight inside. Straight down into the jaws of a hell I craved and deserved.

For ten minutes I just hovered, my hand grazing the knob, unable to muster the will to open it. I’d told myself I was just checking if she needed anything. That I would say no this time, draw the line, push her back over the threshold from woman to child. The speech was rehearsed. I’d even written it out in the notes app on my phone, a digital talisman. But all I could think about was the look in her eyes when she told me to beg, and the sound of her voice when she called me “Daddy” downstairs. And the shameful truth that my cock was so hard I couldn’t even take two steps without it bouncing against the fabric of my pants.

I turned the knob with the tips of my fingers and edged the door open an inch at a time. The room was lit by a single bulb in a desk lamp, angled at the wall so the whole place glowed with a diffuse, buttery haze. Kila lay sprawled across her bed, back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. She was on her phone, scrolling, but the instant she saw me, she locked eyes and didn’t blink.

She wore a pale blue nightgown. If she’d tried to find something more transparent, I doubted it existed outside of a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalog. The fabric draped her frame like water, clinging to the sharp lines of her collarbones and the gentle slope of her breasts. The areolas were dark brown circles under the cloth, nipples already standing out as stiff as if she’d stepped out into a winter storm. The hem barely reached mid-thigh. When she shifted her legs, I saw the smooth, hairless triangle of her crotch, nothing but a whisper of fabric between her and the air.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, not moving, but setting her phone down face-up beside her. She reached up, stretched both arms until her chest pulled tight and the gown rode higher on her thighs. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I tried to answer, but my throat locked up. All I could manage was a nod and a shuffle into the room. I stood just inside the doorway, hands jammed in the pockets of my flannel pajama bottoms, not daring to approach any further. My cock, however, had no problem making its presence known. Kila smirked as a tent formed in my pants, eyes dropping to it just long enough to make sure I had no doubt she knew what she was doing to me.

She waited, head cocked, a predatory patience in her gaze. “You want something?”

This was my cue. I swallowed and forced my voice as steady as I could. “I wanted to talk to you, Kila. About… about earlier. And everything, really. I know you’re home for the summer, and I want it to be good for you. For all of us. But you can’t keep doing…” I gestured helplessly at the air, unable to look at her chest. “You can’t keep saying those things, or… doing what you did tonight.”

Kila’s eyes flickered down my body, then back up to my face. “Why not?”

“It’s not right,” I said, trying for firm and landing on weak. “You’re my daughter. My stepdaughter, I know, but you’re still…” I realized, too late, that this was exactly what she wanted to hear. Her smile went razor-sharp. “I’m still your dad.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?” she asked. One fingernail traced a delicate circle on the inside of her thigh, drawing my attention. “Are you going to spank me, Daddy? I’ve been a very bad girl, haven’t I?”

“Stop it,” I said, even as my voice quavered and my eyes fell again to the soft mounds of her chest. “You’re crossing lines you don’t understand.”

She laughed, sharp and honest. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand, Daddy. I’m not some little girl anymore. Do you want to know how many men I’ve fucked? How many cocks I’ve sucked?” She smirked at my discomfort. “Do you want to hear how I lost my virginity right her in this bed?”

“Kila…” There was no strength in the implied protest, and it came out as a pathetic admission of weakness. I watched the fingernail trail upwards, circle her nipple, and rise to her throat. I gulped. “Baby…”

Her face was soft, open, but her gaze pinned me in place. She patted the edge of the bed. “Come over here and sit down. Unless you’re scared.”

I was scared. But I crossed the carpet anyway, legs shaking, and perched on the far corner of her mattress, the old springs creaking under my weight. I kept my eyes on the wall, anywhere but her, but I could feel the heat of her body radiating out, alive and hungry. The whole room smelled faintly of coconut and something sharp and sweet, a chemical undertone I recognized as her shampoo.

She shifted closer, one knee brushing my thigh. “You said you wanted to talk,” she said, her voice a fraction lower. “So… Talk.”

My hands fidgeted in my lap. I tried to draw on the script I’d written in my head, but every word sounded limp and childish. “You need to respect boundaries,” I managed. “I don’t care if you’re grown up now. Some things are just… wrong. And you know that.”

“Do I?” She leaned in, her shoulder grazing my upper arm. Her nightgown parted down the front, showing the shadowed crease between her breasts. “Because what I see is a grown man who’s so hard he can barely look at me without blushing.” She reached over and placed a hand on my knee. The touch was electric, paralyzing me in place. “You want me to stop, Daddy? Or do you want to keep pretending?”

“I want you to stop,” I whispered, but my cock twitched at the lie.

She rolled her eyes, the gesture so comically exaggerated I almost laughed. “Liar,” she said, and dug her thumb into the meat of my thigh. Her hand worked up, just a couple of inches, then back. Testing me. Measuring the tension in my legs. “You don’t have to be brave for me. I know what you want.”

I looked at her then. Really looked. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes shone with a kind of wicked delight. But beneath it, I saw something else. Something terrifying. Something drunk on power and ready to set fire to the world just to dance around the flames.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, voice shaking. “You could have any boy you want. Why… Why do you want me?”

She considered for a moment, then shrugged. “First of all, I don’t go for boys. I like men.” Her hand slid higher, palm flat against my thigh, nails pressing just enough to sting. “Second, why would you think I haven’t done this before? Third, I have done it before and enjoyed ruining men’s lives because they were too horny to do what they knew was right.” She ticked reasons off on her fingers, staring at me. “Fourth, you’re sexy as hell, Dad. You have no idea how many adolescent fantasies you starred in. You’ve given me literally hundreds of orgasms in this bed.” Kila laughed at my obvious discomfort. “Fifth…” Her warm hand rested on my thigh, nails lightly scratching in a way that made my balls tingle. “You’re my dad. I love you. And I know you want this, even though it’s going to tear you apart. I’m not doing that to you, Daddy. You’re going to do it to yourself. You’re already doing it to yourself.” She leaned in until her warm breath tickled my ear, “Because you really do want to fuck me, don’t you?”

I closed my eyes, tried to steady my breathing. The world had narrowed to the four feet of mattress between us, and the light pressure of her hand on my leg. Her soft, mocking laughter melted my resistance. I couldn’t deny the truth of her words. I wanted this. And I was tearing myself up over it. But I deserved that for what I wanted.

She spoke again, softer. “You always gave me what I wanted. Even when I didn’t know how to ask. That’s why I chose you.” Her hand flexed, and she moved a fraction closer, her hip now flush against mine. “So, if you really want me to stop, you have to say it. Not like you’re telling me to turn off the TV. Say it like you mean it. Make me believe it.” Her shrug was eloquent. “Or tell me that you want to fuck me. I like it when you say it. The way the lust and guilt entwine in your voice.” She blew a chef’s kiss. “Go ahead, Daddy. Give me what I want.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

She waited. When I stayed silent, she leaned over and brushed her lips against my cheek. The contact was so gentle, so impossibly tender, that I nearly cried. She held there, her nose pressed into my hair, her body soft and warm against me.

“Say it,” she murmured, her breath hot on my ear. “Say stop, Daddy. And I’ll stop forever.”

My head swayed like a feeble donkey at the end of a long day of plowing. “I can’t,” I said, and hated myself for it.

Kila drew back, satisfaction blooming across her face. Then, with deliberate slowness, she reached up and cupped her own breast through the thin fabric of the gown. She squeezed, the movement unhurried, and her nipple rose under her palm, a dark bud swelling against the blue mesh. She rolled it between her fingers, never looking away from my eyes.

I tried to look away, but she grabbed my chin with her other hand and forced my gaze back to her. “You like this, don’t you?” she asked. “Watching me. Even though you know you shouldn’t.”

Her fingers kept moving, kneading the flesh, making the gown ripple and catch the light. Her other hand, the one on my chin, was steady and strong, holding me in place. I felt my body flush with heat, blood pounding in my ears. My cock was hard enough that it hurt.

“Please,” I said, not even sure what I was begging for.

Kila’s eyes danced. She dropped her hand from my face and let it rest on my shoulder. Then she brought both hands to her breasts, squeezing them together, her nipples poking through the fabric like wet stones. She made a sound deep in her throat, a low moan, and shifted so she was facing me head-on.

“You want to grab my tits, Daddy? Squeeze them. Suck on them.” Her voice dropped into a sultry tone. “Do you want to fuck my tits, Daddy? Say it. Tell me you want to fuck me, Daddy. Be a good boy and I’ll make good things happen.” She giggled. “I always take care of good boys.”

My hands clenched at my sides. I could see the outline of her body beneath the nightgown: the way her ribs flared under her breasts, the gentle dip of her belly, the perfect, hairless line between her thighs. Every detail burned into my brain.

She reached for me, slow as a snake, and placed my hand against her breast. The flesh was soft and hot, and her nipple poked into my palm like a pebble. She kneaded my fingers into her, her breathing ragged.

“Just like that,” she said, and closed her eyes, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp. I squeezed. The sound that came out of her was somewhere between a purr and a sob. “Harder,” she whispered. “Do it like you want to fuck me.”

I obeyed, digging my fingers into the meat of her breast, twisting the nipple between thumb and forefinger. Her body arched, pressing into my hand. She pulled the gown down over one shoulder, letting it slide away and bare the breast completely. The skin was smooth, the areola wide and dark, the nipple nearly black with arousal.

She looked at me then, her eyes blazing. “Say it, Daddy.”

I wanted to resist, to pull away and retreat to the safety of my marriage and the life I’d built. I wanted to not hate myself for destroying the purest love I’d ever known. To not burn my marriage into a heap of ashes. And all I had to do was open my hand and walk away. But I couldn’t. Not when she was like this, so open and hungry and desperate to be claimed.

So, I did what my stepdaughter told me. I took her breast in both hands, kneading and squeezing, feeling the heat of her body radiate into mine. She shuddered under my touch, her hands tangled in the hem of her nightgown, pulling it higher until her whole body was exposed to me.

I stroked her skin, traced the lines of her tattoo, cupped the curve of her ass. She writhed, moaning, pressing herself closer with every second. Her hands worked at the waistband of my pajamas, yanking them down just enough to free my cock. It sprang out, hard and red, and she grabbed it with both hands, holding it up to her face.

“Say it,” she whispered.”

“I want to fuck you.”

Simple words. Powerful. Destructive. They tore from my throat like a murderous confession. Anguish and fear mingled with hunger.

“Do you?” A low groan made me throb as I rolled both nipples. “Say it, Daddy. Say it again because you know how true it is.”

“I want to fuck you.”

Stronger. Surer. I lowered my head, pulling my stepdaughter’s breast towards my mouth. The gentle hand on the back of my head tightened, holding my lips a hair’s breadth from Kila’s flesh.

“You beg for it, Daddy. Show me I’m not a cheap piece of meat you’re going to pump full of cum and be done with me.” Her rigid nipple brushed at my lips as her voice turned into a sultry singsong. “A tisket. A tasket. My daddy wants to fuck me.” She laughed. “Say it, Daddy. Make me wet for you.”

“Please, let me fuck you, Kila. Please.” My voice trembled. Self-loathing made my stomach roil and heave. And I couldn’t stop. “Please, baby. Let Daddy fuck you. Please. I want to fuck my baby girl. Kila, please.”

“Look at you,” she said, voice hard with contempt. “So fucking hard for me.” She stroked the length, her hands small and strong. I groaned, the sound torn from my chest, and tried to keep from exploding right then and there. Her thumb swiped over the tip, making me jolt as she spread pre-cum under her fingers. “You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you? Yeah. You’ve wanted to fuck your little girl for years. You were just too scared to say it. Even to yourself. And now listen to you, Daddy. You’re begging for me. For my pussy.” Her eyes were pools of midnight in the dim light. As dark as my soul. As dark as my hungers. “Do you want to fuck me?” she asked, the words a caress and a challenge at once.

I nodded, mute, and she grinned.

“Say it.”

“I want to fuck you,” I said, the words shameful and glorious all at once.

“Good boy, Daddy,” she whispered. “Good boy.” A sly grin spread over her lips. “Stand up.”

When I obeyed, she dipped her mouth and I thought - God, I hoped - she was going to suck my dick. Instead, she just let a line of saliva dribble from her lips. It coated my cock as she pumped her fingers around me, making me quivering slick.

“Look at me, Daddy,” Kila demanded. “Say it.”

“I want to fuck you, baby.”

Kila hummed. Leaned forward a tiny bit and released another torrent of saliva. This ran between the valley of her breasts where she used her other hand to smear it over her skin. She moved to the edge of the bed. Looked up at me.

“Fuck my tits, Daddy” she said, and I did. I thrust between her breasts, the flesh warm and slick, her nipples hard against my skin. She leaned in, licking the head every time it emerged, her tongue swirling and greedy. “That’s it, Daddy. Don’t be gentle. I won’t break.”

Her head tilted back, and I saw the unadulterated glee in her face. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew exactly how to make me do what she wanted. How to make me want to do what she wanted.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m fucking your tits,” I growled. “Kila, I’m fucking your pretty tits.”

My stepdaughter lowered her chin and puckered, letting me shove the tip of my cock between her lips with every thrust. A wet, obscene kiss filled the room when I drew back. It filled me with hunger. I staggered towards Kila, both hands holding her shoulders so I could hump her faster. Harder.

“Tell me you want to come on me,” she demanded. “Tell me you want to come all over my big, soft tits.”

I said it. Every glorious, damning syllable. And I meant it more than I’d ever meant anything.

“Tell me you’re going to do it, and I can’t stop you,” Kila said. “Go ahead. Be a man, Daddy. Tell your little girl she’s going to have your hot cum sprayed all over her tits and she can’t do a fucking thing to stop you.”

My brain short circuited. The words tumbled out faster than I could think of what I was saying. My voice turned hard. Cruel. She wasn’t doing this to me. I was doing it to her. My cum on her tits would prove who was in charge of it.

“Go ahead, Daddy. Tell me what I am. Call me a dirty whore. A cocksucking slut. Say what you want me to be.”

I was close, so close. She knew it, and squeezed tighter, milking me with her body. I stared down at her. I tried to say the words. Tried to show she couldn’t control me. That I could do what I wanted. Say what I wanted. I could come on her tits and walk away.

A whimper turned into a full-throated whine as my body came to a halt. Kila stared up at me, eyes shining. I’d never been in control. Not for one moment. I was her puppet, and she made me dance to whatever tune she wanted.

“What’s wrong, Daddy? Don’t you want to come on your whore-daughter’s tits?”

“Kila, no. Don’t say that.”

“Make it true, Daddy. Pay me ten bucks at breakfast. Do it right in front of Mom.” She laughed as I shook my head. “Make me your whore, Daddy. Come all over my tits and pay me for it. I’ll let you do it as often as you pay for it.”

Kila surged to her feet, so close that I stumbled back. She pushed forward until my back was against the wall. Her hands fastened around my wrists and held them at my side. There was no need. I couldn’t resist her. There was no fight in me.

“Don’t you want your own private whore?” Kila stared up at me. “Am I not good enough to be your whore? You don’t want me to be a cum-dump you can bend over and plow for the price of a bag of groceries?”

“Stop,” I whispered. “Please, Kila. Don’t say these things.”

“Then tell me what you want,” she demanded. “No bullshit, Daddy. Say what you really want to say to me.”

“I want to fuck you,” I whispered, unable to think of anything else. “I don’t care who gets hurt. I don’t care what I lose. All I know is I can’t live without you. I have to be with you, Kila. I need to be inside you. Please.”

One finger rested against my lips. My stepdaughter smiled up at me. Raised on her toes and pressed her lips to mine.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” she breathed into my mouth. “Ask for it, Daddy. Ask if you can have it right now.”

I sniffled, realizing that tears were running down my face. A soft sob shook my chest. How had Kila known what a horrible piece of shit I was? How could she have seen through all the good-dad stuff and see how fucking rotten I was? I didn’t love her. I didn’t love anyone. Not even myself. No, especially not myself. I loathed myself. But I spoke the truth.

“Kila, baby. Sweetheart.” My voice cracked and she let me lean my forehead against hers. “I’m so sorry. I want this. I want to fuck you. I want to spread your legs and put my cock inside you. I want to make you come and I want to come inside you.”

“Ask.”

Such a simple word. Such an impossible word.

“Kila, please…” My body trembled as the words caught in my throat. The strain pulled my voice like nails on a chalkboard. “Will you please let me fuck you tonight?”

Soft hands touched my cheeks. Pulled my mouth down as my stepdaughter’s lips parted. My hands found her ass, pulling her up to me as my tongue slithered against hers. I moaned across her tongue, pushing her back towards the bed. She had to be on her back. I had to see her face when I entered her.

“Daddy, stop.” The command was soft. Firm. Unyielding. “Ask your question, and listen to my answer.”

The world spun me into the void of hopelessness. I knew the answer. Fell to my knees with the loss of what I’d never had. Would never have.

“Will you please let me fuck you, Kila?”

Those impossible tender hands tilted my face up. Sweetness dripped from her eyes as she searched my soul. Her thumb brushed at a tear.

“No,” she said. “No, you can’t fuck me, Daddy.” Her lips refused to melt away from mine as she spoke. “You’re going to jerk off for me. Show me what you do when I’m not here and Mom doesn’t open her legs for you.”

There was no resistance left in me. I curled my fingers around my cock. Tugged at it slowly.

“Look at me when you jerk off,” Kila demanded. “And you don’t come until I give you permission.” Her voice was soft but urgent. “Come on, Daddy. Faster. Show me how much you want my pussy.”

My hand obeyed. My cock had no conscience. It didn’t care that I was kneeling in front of my daughter. It just needed to explode.

“Stop,” Kila said, leaning forward to push my hand away. Her lips touched my ear, her voice so low I almost imagined it. “Do you want to sniff between my legs, Daddy?”

“Please!”

Laughing softly, Kila guided me forward on my hands and knees until she could sit on the edge of her bed. My mouth went sandpaper dry as she spread her legs. Showed me the glistening slit beneath the filmy fabric that dripped with a desire that answered mine.

“You look good down there,” she said, her voice syrupy and thick. “You should get used to it.”

She gathered the hem of her nightgown, bunched it at her waist, and let me stare up at the triangle of blue fabric that barely covered her sex. One finger crooked at me. Beckoned me closer.

“You want to sniff it, Daddy?” she teased, grinding her hips so the fabric caught on the bridge of my nose. “Go ahead. Take a big breath.”

I did. The smell was raw, animal, nothing like the polite, perfumed sex of my wife. It hit me like a punch to the brain, made my cock throb and my throat close up. My hands hovered uselessly at my sides, trembling.

She smiled, stroked my hair. “Good boy,” she said, then pulled my head back to her mid-thigh. “Come on, Daddy. Jerk off for your little girl. Look at how wet that pussy is. You have no idea how tight my pussy is, Daddy. That cock would fill it up so full. My hot little cunt stretched around your dick, milking you, pulling the hot, boiling cum up out of your balls.”

Her foot nudged my hand. “Stop.” She laughed. “Go ahead, Daddy, sniff your little girl’s pussy again.” A low moan like a boiling kettle came from her throat as I pressed my face against the wet fabric between her legs. Sucked at it like a dying man in an inferno. “That’s it. That’s what you want. That little pussy right there. You’d do anything to get your dick in it, wouldn’t you, Daddy?”

“Anything,” I promised.

“Really?” Her voice turned playful. Almost girlish. “Anything? Just to put your dick inside your stepdaughter’s pussy?

My eyes sought hers. Locked on her teasing gaze. I knew it was a game and I didn’t fucking care. I gave her what she wanted.

“Kila, I swear on my mother’s grave, I will do anything you want. Anything.”

“You must really want to fuck me.” She smirked. “Go ahead, Daddy. Beat that cock like it owes you money.” My hand pounded furiously. “Tell me what you’re doing, Daddy. Say it.”

“I’m… jerking off,” I panted. “I’m jerking off while I sniff my stepdaughter’s pussy. Because I want to fuck her.”

Kila leaned forward and swatted my hand away. Eyes an inch away, she dared me to protest. I whimpered my surrender.

“You say what I tell you and nothing else,” she whispered. “If you ever want to shove that cock inside me, you’re going to have to be extremely obedient.” White teeth fastened on her lower lip. “Even in front of Mom.”

“Anything,” I promised. “I don’t fucking care.”

“Be careful,” she warned. Leaning back, she pulled her wet panties down her thighs. The scent of her arousal was palpable, almost overwhelming. She rubbed the wet crotch against my face. “I have a very devious mind. I’ll break you in ways you never thought you’d break.” Cold eyes met mine. “Jerk it, Daddy. Sniff my panties and jerk your cock right to the edge.”

It didn’t take long. A few seconds and I had to stop. Panting, I waited.

“Do it again.” Then, “Do it again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

My cock hurt. It was hard enough to break concrete. My balls tight and full. I whimpered and begged for mercy.

“See what happens to Daddies that want to fuck their daughters?” Kila taunted. She swatted my hands away again and wrapped her wet panties around the head of my cock. The slow, soft pump of her hand was a thousand times more torturous than my own. “See, Daddy? This is why you shouldn’t promise me anything I want. Because I’ll fucking take it.” Our lips touched, her eyes staring into mine. “This is a game I call - break Daddy.” She laughed. “Let’s see how long you can last.”

My body shivered. I had to ball my hands into fists to keep from grabbing her. The word please tumbled past my lips like a mantra from the faithful. I prayed to the temple of my stepdaughter for mercy. For release.

“Hold it.” Kila whispered. Pumped twice. “Oh, Daddy. You’re about to lose the game.” Another pump. “Don’t do it, Daddy. Don’t spray your cum all over me.”

It was maddening. Horrifying. The length of time she kept me dangling, unable to finish or retreat. I laid my head on her shoulder and panted, digging my fists into her sheets.

“Please, let me come,” I whimpered. “I can’t take this. Please, let me come.”

“I’m not stopping you. I told you earlier. You’re going to do this to yourself.” Her hand stopped again. Moved the tiniest bit. Waited. “Go ahead, Daddy. Let it out.”

As her fingers hovered above my cock, my prostate pulsed. Cum, thick and hot, slid out of my dick as Kila pushed me beyond endurance. She stared into my eyes as my balls emptied into her panties.

“It’s called a ruined orgasm, Daddy,” she whispered against my lips. “I’m the goddamn world champion at it. You give me all the evidence I want to soak into my panties and don’t get to enjoy actually coming.”

I panted, trying to make sense of her words. Of the experience of my body being drained without the release of orgasm. I sat back on my heels.

“I’m done with you for now,” Kila said, folding her cum-soaked panties. She sniffed it. “I like the way our scents mingled.” I watched her stand up and put her dirty panties in her top drawer.

“What?”

“Blackmail, Daddy,” Kila said, sitting on her bed again. She pulled open the drawer to her nightstand and took out the dildo I’d seen earlier. “Incontrovertible evidence that you entered my bedroom and left a huge DNA sample.” Leaning back, she rubbed the head of the dildo against her pussy. “Now, go away and let me fuck myself. I have what I wanted from you.”

Stunned, I fought my way to my feet. Turned my back on my stepdaughter as she plunged the dildo into her dripping snatch. A pit of despair opened in my belly as I stepped out into the hallway. I was well and truly fucked. Kila had every possible card in her hand, and all I had in my hand was my dick.

I realized I was wrong, though. I thought it was horrible getting into bed with Bryn earlier when I came upstairs. That was a piece of cake compared to what it was like when she rolled over against me and gave me a sleepy kiss. I lay there, holding my wife, thinking of my stepdaughter fucking herself to multiple orgasms, while a wet pair of panties soaked my cum deep into the fabric.

Hate was too kind of a word for how I felt about myself.