Good Boy, Daddy Chapter 7

A young Female Supremacist introduces her stepfather to life under her complete control.

The hand soap in the downstairs bathroom was something between lavender and battery acid, but I’d have gladly sandblasted my own skin to erase the scent of my stepdaughter’s pussy. It didn’t work, of course. Nothing short of flensing the top layer of flesh from my face could have removed the evidence of what Kila had done to me in the living room, the tangy, animal proof that she owned my hunger, and could summon or punish it at will. Even now, with my forehead braced against the cold mirror, the heat of her cunt seemed to radiate outward, soaking through my sinuses and stinging my tongue. I breathed slow and deep and tried to imagine my life ten minutes from now, an hour from now, tomorrow. All I got for my trouble was a shudder that started in my gut and spread up the back of my neck.

Outside, I heard the familiar thump and roll of Kila’s footsteps across the hallway tile. She didn’t knock. Just opened the bathroom door and leaned in, her head framed by the painted arch, a shadow half-obscuring the sharpness in her face. She wore an old white tank top, the bottom hem twisted above her navel, and a pair of gym shorts so brief they barely justified the name. The Artemis tattoo was on full display, goddess-and-hound rendered in violent color across the meat of her thigh. She stood with one hand on her hip, the other flipping a set of keys in lazy circles.

“Mom says lunch in ten,” she said, voice bright and normal. “Want to come watch her make sandwiches and play at being a family?”

I pressed a towel to my cheeks, hoping the cold would chase away the burn. “In a minute,” I managed. “Just… need to get my shit together.”

Kila’s eyes flicked to my reflection in the mirror. She seemed to consider something, then shrugged. “Sure, Daddy,” she said, and the way she rolled the word was pure blackmail, equal parts dare and threat. A smirk twisted her lips and I knew what she would say before the words left her mouth. “Say it.”

Hanging my head in defeat, I admitted it. “I want to fuck you, Kila,” I said. “I’ll do anything you want for the chance to put my cock in you.”

She gave a bark of laughter. I watched the mirror as she leaned against my back. An almost tender smile creased her lips as she patted my cheek with one hand.

“I liked busting your balls,” she said softly. “I love how wanting me just destroys you and you can’t wait for me to punish you for it.” Her hand pushed inside my pants. “Get hard for me, Daddy. Let me feel how much you want to fuck me.”

I was helpless. My cock rose at her touch. Ached for more.

“I want you in the living room,” she said, pulling her hand free. “Now.”

“Can’t you just do whatever you want here?” I offered. “I’ll do anything.”

“Then get your ass downstairs,” she snapped. “I want you afraid that Mom will find what you’re doing. I want to see the fear in your eyes when you obey me.”

I watched her retreat down the hall, the muscles in her calves flexing with every step, the tattoo shifting and tightening around her skin. My body remembered the feel of her pussy grinding on my mouth, the metallic slap of her knee into my balls, and a wave of dizzy, obscene longing hit me so hard I almost doubled over. My cock, traitorous and eager, pulsed against my waistband, as if begging for another round of humiliation.

Did I just stop fighting? It did no good to resist Kila. She was like a force of nature. It wasn’t like I actually put up much of a fight anyway. But what was the alternative? The guy in the mirror didn’t have any answers. With a sigh, I turned and trudged downstairs to face whatever fresh torment my stepdaughter had prepared for me.

The living room was silent except for the low whir of the ceiling fan. I stood in the center of the rug, my hands twisting together, waiting for Kila’s next command. She flicked a finger at the screen of her phone and pointed to the floor at her feet.

“On your knees,” she said, voice calm as ever.

My mouth went dry, but I dropped to the rug, my knees sinking into the plush pile. Kila let her legs fall open. Extended one foot to press against the front of my jeans.

“I shouldn’t have to command you,” she said. “You know what I want you to say.”

“I want to fuck you, Kila,” I whispered. My hips pushed back at her foot, grinding the head of my cock against the soft fabric of my underwear. “I’ll do anything you want.”

“You want to hump my leg,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” I whispered, barely audible. “I don’t.”

Kila laughed, a genuine, rolling sound that made my insides knot up. “You liar. You’d hump anything I told you to, wouldn’t you? Including the arm of that couch, or the banister, or Mom’s thigh if I said to.” She leaned down until her face was level with mine, one hand cupping my chin, lips close enough to graze mine. “Beg for it, Daddy,” she said, her breath hot on my ear. “Beg to hump my leg.” I squeezed my eyes shut, but she dug her nails into my jaw, forcing my face upward. “Say it.”

I could hear Bryn humming in the kitchen, just a room away. The threat of exposure made my heart race, made my cock throb so hard I thought I might black out. I swallowed hard.

“Please,” I said. “Let me hump your leg. Please.”

Kila grinned, satisfied, and extended her right leg, planting her bare foot squarely between my knees. “Good boy,” she said. “Now, show me.”

For a moment, I hesitated, but her hand closed in my hair and yanked my head forward, mashing my face against her thigh. The skin was fever-hot, the scent of her sweat and soap and old gym shorts overpowering. She rubbed her knee against my crotch; her other leg lifting over my shoulder to wrap around the back of my neck.

“Go on,” she purred. “Make it look like you mean it.”

With trembling hands, I wrapped my arms around her thigh and began to rock my hips against her leg, the rough fabric of my jeans scraping at my dick. The humiliation was radioactive. I felt every atom of self-respect evaporate as I ground against my stepdaughter’s thigh, my face mashed into the flexing muscle, the Artemis tattoo watching over my degradation like a pagan deity. Kila stroked my hair, making soft, soothing sounds as if I were a pet or a child.

“That’s it,” she cooed. “Look at you. Such a good little Daddy. Do you want to come for me, Daddy? Do you want to make a mess in your pants, like a little boy?”

I whimpered, the words tearing out of me. “Please, Kila. Don’t make me do this. Please.”

She pinched my ear so hard I yelped, then twisted it for good measure. “Don’t stop, or I’ll call Mom in here and tell her you tried to rape me.” She paused, let the threat sink in, then softened. “But if you make me happy, I’ll keep your secret. Understand?”

I nodded, unable to meet her eyes. I kept humping her leg, slow and desperate, the friction stoking my cock to a cruel fever pitch. My body craved the release, but I knew better than to hope for mercy.

Kila shifted her weight, pressing her thigh harder into my groin, and leaned forward so her mouth hovered at my ear. “Say you’re pathetic,” she whispered. “Say you’re a pathetic Daddy who can’t help but hump his own daughter’s leg.”

My face burned with shame, but the words came out anyway. “I’m a pathetic Daddy. I can’t help it. I’m so sorry, Kila.”

She laughed again, then stroked my hair. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, keep going.”

My hips ground against her leg in slow, staccato thrusts. Each time my cock dragged across the muscle of her thigh, I felt the panic and the need build, a black star eating my insides. I could feel the wet spot growing in my jeans, the pulse of pre-cum soaking through the fabric. My breathing grew ragged, each exhalation a shiver of self-loathing.

The kitchen faucet switched on. The sound of water masked my shallow moans. Kila pulled the leg behind my neck to bring my face close to hers. She ran her fingers through my hair and blew soft kisses. Encouraged me as my body moved faster, descending into desperation.

“What a good boy,” she whispered. “Go ahead, Daddy. Hump my leg the way you want to plow my hot little cunt.”

My cock throbbed so hard I thought I might puke. My whole body locked up, my arms hugging her thigh like a drowning man hugging driftwood. The rest of the world collapsed behind the thick, pulsing heartbeat in my head, every shameful impulse detonating at once under my skin. When I finally managed to speak, it came out raw and rabid, some animal version of myself clawing free.

“Kila,” I pleaded, the word almost a gasp. My hips jerked on instinct, grinding her leg like a rutting dog, but the need in my voice was genuine. The need was everything. “I want to fuck you,” I said, louder this time, barely caring if Bryn heard me. “I want to shove my cock inside you so deep you feel it in your fucking stomach.”

She smiled, slow and wicked, and lifted her tank top until her tits were out, full and high, so firm they looked sculpted, the big brown nipples standing proud and hard. She cupped one in each hand and squeezed, pushing them together, then shimmied her shoulders to make them bounce and sway. She watched my face and licked her lips, eyes bright with mean delight.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, her voice syrupy sweet, pitched just for me. “Say it nastier, Daddy. Tell me what you’d do to your stepdaughter if nobody could stop you. Tell me how you’d fuck me right here if I let you. Tell me how you’d ruin your little girl.”

The heat in my head made it hard to think, hard to breathe. My face was right at the level of her shorts, my nose mashed into the soft, sweat-salted skin of her thigh, and the urge to tear them off and eat her out again overrode every ounce of reason or dignity I had. I buried my face in the tattooed Artemis and just lost it.

“I’d rip these goddamn shorts off and spread your legs right here on the fucking rug,” I said, voice unrecognizable and shaking. “I’d eat your pussy until you couldn’t stand, until you begged me to stop, and then I’d fuck you. I’d fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk the next day.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop. “I’d fill you up. I’d come inside you. I’d come so deep in your cunt that you’d taste it in your mouth. I’d make you choke on my cock while I did it.”

She shivered, visibly, and for a second her mocking stare softened to something I could almost mistake for worship. She leaned in, pressed her tits against my face, smothered me in heat and sweat and her own impossible power. She rubbed my hair and purred, “What a sick Daddy you are. You’re obsessed with your own daughter, aren’t you? Can’t think of anything except fucking me until you break me.”

I whimpered, grinding against her harder, desperate for the friction, desperate for anything. My body was on autopilot, rutting like a beast, but my mind was reeling, twisted into knots of guilt and perfect, crystalline need.

“Keep going,” she demanded, rolling her hips into my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair. “Tell me what you want to do to my tits, Daddy. Tell me how you’d use me.”

My cock spasmed, and I almost came in my jeans right then. I could barely talk, but she forced the words out by grabbing a fistful of my hair and tugging, hard, until I choked. Panting, I moaned her name.

“I want to fuck your tits,” I groaned, voice strangled and ugly. “I want to paint your face with my cum. I want to fuck you until you cry, then keep going. I want you to beg for it. I want you to call me Daddy while I destroy you.”

Kila laughed, but the sound was shaky, less cruel now, almost giddy. She traced one hard nipple across my lips, teasing, then pushed my head into her chest as if daring me to bite. Rubbed her precious tits against my face.

“Good boy,” she whispered. “Such a filthy little Daddy. What would Mom say if she saw her big, strong husband losing his mind just from sniffing his daughter’s pussy?” She cackled, but the haze in her eyes told me she loved it, needed it as much as I did.

I humped her leg like a fucking dog, less than human, just a tired, broken man who needed to come more than he needed air. My mind shorted out in a shower of humiliation and want. I could barely see, barely breathe. My mouth went dry as I stared at my stepdaughter’s breasts, perfect and round, nipples hardened to tight buds. I couldn’t look away. I moaned. Whimpered. Mewled like a bitch.

“Let me fuck you, please,” I groaned, humping her leg harder. “Let me bend you over and spread your ass, lick that wet pussy from behind until you scream.” I was beyond shame now, just a rutting animal desperate for release. “I want to pin you down and fuck you so hard the neighbors hear you begging for more.”

Kila’s eyes glittered with triumph as she watched me debase myself. She squeezed her own breast, rolling the nipple between her fingers. “Keep going, Daddy. Tell me how you’d make me come.”

“I’d rub your clit while I fucked you,” I panted, grinding myself against her thigh. “I’d make you come so many times you’d forget your own name. I’d fuck you in every position, every hole.”

The pressure in my balls was unbearable. I was close, so close, but I knew better than to come without permission. My hips jerked frantically as I clung to her leg.

“Please,” I begged. “Please let me come, Kila.”

“Not yet.” She dropped her tank top back down and leaned forward. “Edge for me. Get right to the brink and stop.”

I slowed my movements, my body trembling with the effort of holding back. Sweat poured down my face as I fought the urge to explode. My hips moved slowly, grinding my cock against the amazing soft-firmness of my stepdaughter’s thigh.

“Sandwiches are ready!” Bryn called from the kitchen.

“Be right there, Mom!” Kila shouted back, never taking her eyes off me. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re going to sit next to me at lunch, and I’m going to play with your cock under the table. If you come, I’ll tell Mom everything.”

“I can’t,” I whispered, terror mingling with arousal. “Please, Kila.”

“You can and you will.” She pushed me off her leg and stood up, smoothing her shorts. “Now get up and act normal.”

Lunch was agony incarnate, a circus of mundane questions on the surface with a slow-motion car crash happening below the table. Bryn laid out sandwiches with a flourish that made her seem, for one brief moment, like the mother of a normal family. She poured iced tea into three mismatched glasses and launched into a monologue about a new crime miniseries she’d started on Netflix, something about a family being haunted by their oldest daughter’s disappearance and the cop who couldn’t let it go. Her voice was light, conversational, but every so often she’d shoot me the tiniest glance, as if waiting for me to play my part, to chime in about plot twists or pacing.

I could barely hear her over the buzzing in my skull. Kila had planted herself right beside me, never once breaking character. She ate with her left hand, and with her right, she rested her palm on my thigh, fingers fanned casually and her thumb rubbing soft, lazy circles just above my knee. Each time Bryn looked away, Kila’s hand migrated higher, exploring the territory above my jeans, treading closer to the tented agony beneath my fly as if testing the limits of her new power. By the second bite, her fingertips had reached my crotch, tracing my cock’s outline through the denim and pressing with cruel accuracy.

“Do you want mustard?” Bryn asked, waving the squeeze bottle in my direction.

I tried to answer, but my throat was dust and my hand shook so badly that I squirted a yellow arc onto my plate, missing the sandwich entirely. Kila smothered a giggle with a dainty cough, and even Bryn couldn’t help but crack a smile. I blinked at the mess I made, wishing it was my cum sprayed over my stepdaughter’s tits. Ass. Thighs. Belly. Anywhere. As long as it was her.

“Poor Daddy,” Kila murmured, sotto voce, just for me. Her breath was warm and sweet with cheese and onions, and her hand was a vice that kept me pinned, every nerve in my body focused on not losing control and coming right there at the family table. She meticulously brushed a crumb from my chin, then returned to her plate as if nothing had happened. “I think maybe you need a nap.”

I tried to eat, but every swallow was work, every movement of my tongue a reminder of Kila’s earlier taunts, her tits pressed to my face, her sweat and heat and the tattooed bow pulled taut above my hunger. She kept up the pressure, alternating between light teasing touches and sudden, sharp squeezes that made me flinch and white-knuckle my fork.

At one point, Bryn mentioned a character she hated. “You know the type. Smug, always talking like she’s smarter than everyone else? Reminds me of someone I used to work with.” She took another bite, then fixed her gaze on me. “Garrett, do you remember that jerk from my old office, the guy who always hit on the temps?”

I nodded, but my eyes watered from the effort of not climaxing in my boxers, the friction of Kila’s fingers relentless and perfectly timed to every word out of my wife’s mouth. My balls throbbed, aching with the need to release. My thighs quivered.

“Yeah, the one who…” I started, then lost my train of thought as Kila’s pinky slipped just beneath the waistband of my jeans, grazing skin. I coughed, choking a bit on iced tea, and tried again. “Uh, yeah, he was a real piece of work.”

Kila kept eating, but her hand worked me with mechanical precision. She would stroke my cock through the denim, then slide her hand away just long enough to lull me into a sense of relief before returning with a vengeance, each time more daring, more certain that I wouldn’t and couldn’t stop her. My own hands trembled as I picked at the bread, unable to tamp down the pulse of imminent climax.

Beneath the table, our knees touched. Kila spread her legs ever so slightly, hiking up her shorts so her thigh pressed against mine, the skin-to-skin contact sending a fresh jolt up my spine. When Bryn looked away to refill her glass, Kila leaned in as if to whisper a joke, but instead she mashed her palm hard against my cock, grinding her knuckles into me. I gasped, a choked, involuntary squeal, and Bryn’s head jerked in my direction.

“You’re quiet today,” Bryn observed, looking at me with concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I think Kila’s right. I’m just tired,” I managed, as Kila’s hand squeezed me under the table. “Those pushups really took it out of me.”

Kila smirked. “Poor Daddy. Maybe you should lie down after lunch.”

“Good idea,” Bryn agreed. “I’m going to take a nap myself. All that shopping wore me out.”

Kila’s fingers traced the outline of my cock as she took another bite of her sandwich. “Mom, this is delicious,” she said, her voice perfectly normal while her hand worked me into a frenzy beneath the table.

I nearly choked on my food when she unzipped my fly and slipped her fingers inside, stroking me through my underwear. My hips jerked involuntarily, and I had to grip the edge of the table to keep from groaning aloud. My breath shuddered and I felt sweat break out on my upper lip.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bryn asked, frowning at me.

“Fine,” I gasped. “Just... swallowed wrong.”

As soon as lunch was over, Bryn headed upstairs for her nap. Kila waited until we heard the bedroom door close, then grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the kitchen. She bent over the counter, her ass pushed out toward me and hiked up her shorts until I could see the bare curves of her cheeks.

“Come here,” she ordered. “Stand behind me.”

I stepped forward, trembling, my hands uncertain of where to land. Kila’s ass was framed by the elastic waistband of her shorts and the loose tank barely grazing the small of her back. She reached behind her, seized my hips with both hands, and yanked me forward with a force that made my knees lock. My cock pressed into the soft, bare skin just below her shorts and the heat of her body seared through my jeans.

Kila rubbed her ass at me as I tried to steady myself with a palm on the counter. She twisted her torso to glare at me. “Not with your hand. With your dick,” she hissed, unrelenting. Her grip on my hips tightened, her nails biting through the denim as she ground herself back into me. For a moment I just stood there, paralyzed by the absolute power she had over me, but the throbbing need in my balls and the dizzying scent of her made the decision for me. I thrust forward, rubbing my erection along the cleft of her ass, the zipper of my jeans catching on her skin. The friction was exquisite, raw, and utterly humiliating.

Kila grinned, her head turning so that her dark eyes found mine. “You like that, Daddy? You like humping your little girl’s ass?” She punctuated each word with a backward push, using my cock to pleasure herself through two layers of clothing. I whimpered, unable to stop myself, lost in the animal need to rut against her. Every movement hurt, the pressure dangerous and electric, but the shame was the loudest thing in the room, ringing inside my skull like a bell.

She shifted her stance, planting her feet wider, and reached back to spread her cheeks so that the ridge of my cock nestled firmly between them. My vision swam. My hands floated to her waist, desperate for balance, and she let me hold her there, only so she could dictate every inch of motion. Her ass flexed, hard as a fist, milking my cock through the thin layers of fabric.

From the living room, I could still hear the faint drone of the TV. Upstairs, Bryn’s door was closed, her soft footsteps muffled. The illusion of safety made it worse, made me reckless. Kila began to rock her hips in slow, deliberate circles, using my cock as a lever to stimulate herself. She moaned softly, the sound low and mocking.

“Imagine if Mom walked in right now,” she purred, twisting her upper body so that the line of her back arched even more. “Imagine her seeing you bent over me, dry humping me like a dog in heat. Tell me what you’d say, Daddy.” She kept up the motion, her grip on me never loosening, her words driving me closer and closer to the edge.

“I—I don’t know,” I stammered, my voice strangled. “I’d tell her it was my fault. That you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Of course you would. Because you’re a good Daddy. You’d take the blame.” She lifted her hips, forcing my cock to the base of her spine, then lowered herself, sandwiching my cock between her and the kitchen counter. I gasped, the sensation so intense I almost came on the spot. “It’s your fault. Remember what Mom said in the car? It’s entirely your fault. I’m just your sweet, young, hot stepdaughter that you can’t help but want to fuck.”

Her laugh was bitter and powerful. Kila pressed her cheek to the cold countertop, eyes glittering above her shoulder as she watched me lose control. “Now,” she whispered. “Dry hump me,” she commanded. “Show me how you’d fuck me if I let you.”

I moaned as I shoved my body at hers. Already panting. Already close.

“That’s it,” she purred, pushing back against me. “Pretend you’re inside me, Daddy. Pretend your cock is sliding into my tight little pussy.” I moved faster, harder, desperate for the friction. My hands slid under her tank top to cup her breasts, squeezing them as I rutted against her.

“You feel that?” Kila whispered. “That’s what you’re never going to have. You’re going to spend the rest of your life humping me like a dog while I decide if you ever get to feel the real thing.”

“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Please, Kila. I’ll do anything.”

“I know you will.” She laughed, the sound cruel and delighted. “That’s what makes this so much fun.”

She reached back and unzipped my fly completely, freeing my cock. I felt the smooth skin of her ass against my bare shaft and nearly lost control. Whimpering, my body lost rhythm. I came to a panting halt, quivering on the edge of ruin.

“Poor Daddy” she taunted. “So close, but not quite there. This is what you get for being such a pathetic excuse for a man.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “What kind of man does this to his own stepdaughter? How long have you been my daddy? Almost twenty years, right? Was it always because you knew I’d grow up to be a sweet piece of ass? Were you perving on me in kindergarten?”

“No! God, no! Kila! Don’t say horrible things like that?”

“Why not? You keep saying that you want to fuck me?” She wiggled her ass. “That is your cock I feel dripping on me, isn’t it?”

There was nothing to say to that. It’s just that… one thing didn’t mean the other was true. Yes, she was hot and sexy. But I’d never considered doing this to her until she demanded it.

“Tell me how much you want to be inside me,” she demanded.

“More than anything,” I gasped. “I’d give up everything. My job, my marriage, my life. Just to fuck you once.”

“And you never will,” she whispered. “Because I own you now. I own every part of you, especially this.” She reached between us to grab my cock, squeezing it painfully. “This belongs to me. Not to Mom, not to you. To me.”

I was trembling, right on the edge. “Kila, I’m going to come. I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Come on me and I’ll scream for Mom,” she whispered. “Want me to test that promise to lose your marriage for me? Because I won’t stay here with you when Mom walks out. You’ll be standing here jerking your dick, hating yourself for being so fucking weak you couldn’t stop yourself from coming on your little girl’s ass.”

My hands tightened on her tits. I leaned over her, pulling her against me. Fuck. I needed her. I didn’t care if she called her mother. If I could be inside her when Bryn found us, I’d be satisfied.

“Why are you teasing me like this?” I demanded. “I want to fuck you, Kila. I know I’m making you wet. You want my cock. Why won’t you let me fuck you?”

“Because you’re my daddy?” She laughed. “Go ahead, Daddy. Be pathetic for me.” Her eyes danced as she dug deeper into my head. “Or are you going to be a man about it? You’re bigger and stronger, Daddy. You could hold me down with one arm and have me exactly the way you say. Ram that cock all the way into your stepdaughter’s cunt. Plow me hard and leave me dripping cum.” She giggled as I nearly lost it. “If you say you’re raping me when you do it, I won’t tell Mom.”

Laughter burst from her lips. She knew. She knew that for a moment, one horrible moment, I’d almost done it. Gone along with the most horrible thing imaginable just to fuck her.

“Not enough man for that, I guess,” she teased. “That’s okay, Daddy. I like pussy-men. Men that know their place. You know your place, right, Daddy?”

“Yes,” I whispered, hips moving glacially slow as I hovered at the edge of ruin. “I know my place. Anywhere you tell me to be.”

“See how easy it is when you give in?” Kila turned to face me, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. She pumped my cock with one hand, smearing the leaking fluids over the head of it with her thumb. “Female supremacy, Daddy. You’re fucking inferior. In every fucking way.”

Her other hand rested at the nape of my neck. Dark eyes stared into mine. “This doesn’t stop, Daddy,” she whispered. “This is your life. My life. I’m going to keep you on the edge of complete ruin for as long as it amuses me. And, you better make sure it amuses me, Daddy, because the only way it stops is with you explaining to Mom why you want to fuck me so badly.”

My hands trembled on her hips as Kila guided my head down to her shoulder. Edging me, she held me and shushed my whimpering. Not mercy, but tenderness in the midst of her hostile takeover of my life.

“I know, Daddy. You just want to fuck me. You can’t help being weak and twisted. You can’t help that your cock wants the hottest, wettest, and tightest pussy around. You’re genetically inferior, Daddy. I don’t hate you for it.” She pulled my head back so she could press her lips to mine. “I love you, Daddy. If I didn’t love you so much, I wouldn’t insist that you live an authentic, inferior life of horny weakness.”

“Kila…”

“Tell me the truth, Daddy.” Her breath was lava against my skin as she nibbled my ear. “If I offered to let things go back to how they were before I made you admit what a freak you are… if you could just be a good daddy and not want to fuck me… would you really want that? Or is it so much better being teased with what you’ll never have that you never want to give it up?” Her dark eyes held mine. “Do you want me to stop?”

I tried to tell her I did. Desperately struggled for the words. But my mouth was full of ash. I shook my head. Laid it against her shoulder. As she wrapped me in her embrace, Kila whispered, “Say it.”

“I want to fuck you,” I admitted, not fighting the reality of what she could do to me. “I’ll do anything to fuck you. I’ll let you treat me this way as long as you want.”

My stepdaughter tucked my cock back into my pants. Zipped them up. Patted my erection through my jeans.

“Good boy, Daddy.”