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Date: Sun, 12 Dec 2004 16:50:49 -0500
From: John Simmons <around@here.com>
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Subject: Bitch-Slave Daughter -- M/f, BDSM, INCEST
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===================
She was one of life's losers, with no money or job, returning home to
live, but her strict father had other ideas than letting her sit around
and laze the day away. Destiny was good for something, after all. She
just needed a little more discipline.
Destiny moaned more loudly now, with no one to hear her, and raised her
head, staring up at the ceiling, at her wrists, then down the long -
long length of her body which hung below.
It a was very strange feeling. Her chest was heaving, and she was
flushed and exhausted from the immense climax she had just experienced,
one more powerful and extended than anything she'd ever felt before. And
now, shockingly, excitingly, she hung by her wrists. She was actually
hanging naked from her wrists! For her thong had dropped off her ankles
as she'd been raised off the floor.
Her legs seemed like dead weight, far, far below, just hanging there
limp and useless. Her arms ached, her wrists burned, and her shoulders
throbbed and strained.
It took her some minutes to calm down, for her body to cool down, for
the tired languor which the orgasm produced to wear off and leave her -
aching. Her scattered wits fit themselves slowly back together and she
could think almost clearly. Almost. Her body continued to thrum with a
low sexual heat as she hung there, twisting very slowly on the chain,
and she began to wonder what more her father would do to her.
Her insides ached from the harsh thrusting of the whip handle, and she
quivered, wondering when he would substitute his cock, when he would
rape her. She felt a trembling run through her body at the thought,
anticipation mixed with wretched heat.
It figured he would be into this kind of thing, she thought, arrogant,
cruel disciplinarian that he was.
God! She was hanging naked by her wrists! And he had whipped her! God!
It was unbelievable!
She lifted one foot, then the other, twisting slowly like a fish on a
line. How long was he going to leave her like this? She looked at
herself in the mirror and felt a swelling pride, a sexual arrogance. She
looked so fucking hot! Why had she never gotten into this before? The
idea had always intrigued her, always excited her. She'd just never
found a man she would trust to tie her up and - and have his way with
her. At least, not one who was interested in doing anything more
inventive than sinking his cock into her.
She looked down at her breast and felt a little ripple of shock as she
noted the teeth marks which framed her nipple, a nipple which still
throbbed hotly, rigid with excitement.
Should she call out to him, yell, scream? The idea of screaming aroused
her, for some reason. But no, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
And if she did he would probably just come down and - and whip her - again.
He had whipped her! Whipped her! She was still amazed.
And an hour later it was still somewhat amazing, but she was so
exhausted it didn't seem to matter as much. Her arms and wrists were
numb, and her shoulder burned like fire.
"Daddy!" she called out loud. "Daddy!"
She raised her voice, crying out as loud as she could. "Daddy! Daddy!
Let me down!"
But an hour later she still hung there alone, moaning, panting, dripping
sweat, breathing in very short, very shallow gasps.
And finally there he was, standing before her. No, now sitting, for he'd
drawn up a chair and sat leisurely back in it to look at her.
"L-Let me down," she moaned.
"I don't know why I didn't think of it before," he said. "You obviously
can't look after yourself. You're not good for anything. You need to be
looked after. And why should anyone bother to do that, especially when
you're such a sulky, bad-tempered little bitch? I bet you've had plenty
of boyfriends who have dumped you, pretty ass or not, unable to stand
you any longer."
That was true, but it angered her to hear it.
"Let me doooown," she groaned.
"How are you in the sack?" he asked.
Exhausted or not, hanging naked or not, it seemed incredible to her he
had asked that, her own father. She stared at him in disbelief.
"Well? Are you any good? Or do you need to be taught how to please a
man, sexually."
"N-None of your b-business," she panted. And then a sneer. "I bet you
want to find out."
He stroked his chin with his hand. "No matter. You can be taught. You
have the right equipment and a very pretty face."
"I-Is daddy going to teach his little girl?" she panted in a taunting
little girl voice.
"Oh I'm going to teach you a thing or two, girl," he said, his voice and
expression hardening. "I'm going to teach you enough that someone will
want you around, even if they keep you in a cage."
She blinked, startled at the words as he stood up and moved to stand
next to her. He combed his fingers through her hair and she tried to
jerk her head away, but then he closed them and jerked her head up and
back tightly and she gasped and shuddered.
"You're fucking useless for almost anything," he said. "And you have no
desire to learn. But men will pay for a body and face like yours."
"Y-You think you c-can make me a prostitute!" she gasped.
"Oh no. Even that requires work. No, I'm thinking of something much
older, and much safer. Believe it or not, daughter, I have no desire to
see you become a drug addicted, disease infested, old before your time
whore walking a street corner."
He leaned in further, his lips next to her ear. "I will make you a slave."
Slave. The word shocked her. It rang through her mind and made her body
spasm weakly. Slave? Slave!? He was crazy! Insane! She almost laughed,
would have except she was so exhausted. A slave!? What a freak he was!
"A slave has only to obey," he said. "She does not need to think at all.
She is given very simple tasks, usually involving pleasuring men and
women with her body. I wager you can learn to do that easily enough."
"You think I'm going to be your sex slave?" she demanded, laughing weakly.
"Not mine. No. After you're trained I will find you a decent master, a
man with money and means who will keep you properly safe."
"Y-you're c-c-crazy," she panted.
"Think about it, you little slut," he growled, twisting his fingers in
her hair until she cried out. "Your master will do everything, all the
thinking, all the effort. All you'll need to do is look pretty and
perform sexually. Hell, if I find one of those Arab princes to buy you
you can sit around his harem, swimming and watching TV. Sounds like just
the life for you."
He released her hair and she looked sullenly at him.
"It's all you're good for anyway," he said.
She tried to look defiant, but his words struck her deep. She knew she
was useless, knew she had no skills, no learning, and no drive or
motivation. Her friends had often made fun of her in that way. Her
teachers had despaired of it long ago. She was good for nothing, she
thought bitterly. He was right. She could be some rich man's fuck toy
and that was about it.
"Fuck you," she said, eyes fluttering to fight back tears.
A harsh hand cracked across her cheek, flinging her head back and
setting her ear ringing and her body swinging. She moaned and worked her
cheek.
"Discipline is what you need," he said.
"Fine," she said dully; hopeless, miserable, uncaring. "Do whatever you
fucking want. Kill me if you want to."
Now tears did start to fill her eyes.
"I have no intention of causing you harm," he said. "I am not an
uncaring brute. I want only what is best for you. And this would appear
to be the best of a very few choices left to you."
"So I'll be a fucking sex slave," she said dully. "Sure. Why not."
Another slap to her face, this time the other cheek, and she cried out,
twisting weakly on the end of the chain.
"You think you're capable of being a sex slave right now? You think any
wealthy man would pay much for you the way you are? You're sadly
mistaken, girl. You aren't good enough to be a slave yet. But you will
be. The training isn't pleasant, but for once in your life it is
training you will absorb fully and completely. For pain is a marvellous
teacher."
"Then do it!" she cried, tears dropping onto her chest now. "Go ahead!
Make me a sex slave! Sell me to a fucking Arab!
Anger leant her strength, and she glowered at him furiously. "Do it!"
she snarled. "Do it!"
He nodded slowly, and they stared at each other.
"From this day on you have no father," he said, and the words struck her
deep inside, a part of her she hadn't even known she had. She felt oddly
numbed by them, stricken.
"You will never again address me as dad or daddy or father. I am not
your father and you are no daughter of mine. Do you understand me?" he
demanded, his voice hard and cruel.
She dropped her eyes, feeling a strange sense of finality, wanting to
change it, but wondering why. God knew he had never been much of a
father to her, never been the kind to hug or hold her or show any sign
of affection. Why should she miss him, miss having a father, when she'd
never really had one at all? And she felt a sense of anger over that,
and defiance, though her mind was spinning.
Another slap rang her ear, brought the taste of blood to her mouth as
she groaned in pain.
"Did you understand me?" he snarled.
"Yes!" she shouted, more tears spilling from her eyes, tears of anger
and resentment.
"Henceforth you will address me as master. You will obey orders, and you
will respond to instructions promptly. You will not speak - ever - for
any reason, unless you are giving permission. Is that understood?"
She nodded her head weakly, then cried out at another slap which sent
her head spinning to one side, and her body following.
"When you are addressed you will respond with `yes, master' or `no,
master'. Is that clear?"
"Y-yes... m-master," she groaned.
"You have no father. You are an orphan. Now I take your name from you,
as well. Destiny was the name of someone I once had hopes for, once
thought might amount to something. It is clearly not the name for a
spineless, weak, nothing like you. Perhaps some day you will earn a name
from whomever buys you. For now you are simply a slave, a nameless slave."
Again the words struck something inside her, and again she felt a flood
of moisture to her eyes, felt tears spilling down onto her naked chest.
It was so unfair, so horribly unfair! And yet did she really deserve
better? Wasn't he right? Hadn't she wasted herself on nothing all these
years? Little wonder he thought she was a completely failure. She
thought she was a miserable failure, herself.
"You have no father. You have no name. And you have no body. A slave
owns nothing. A slave has no choices to make, no decisions to make. A
slave does exactly as she is told. And a slave's body belongs to her
master. She has no more say in its use than a dog or a cow or a horse
does. Their owners make those decisions."
He ran a hand lightly up her body, circling her nipple.
"A dog might be shaved, might have ridiculous bits of clothe fitted to
it, might be muzzled or neutered. It has no say in any of it. It will be
washed when its master says. It will be allowed to go to the bathroom
when its master decides. If its master chooses to breed the dog, then
that will be done, as well."
He yanked on her hair and she screamed as her head was pulled straight back.
"Do you understand, slave?" he demanded. "Do you understand that all
choices, all decisions are removed from you? You have no body. This
flesh belongs to me to do with as I choose, and it will then belong to
someone else, whomever I give or sell you to."
He released her hair and she moaned weakly, her body swaying as he
walked away from her, over to the wall. He turned the crank, and her
body began to lower, her trembling toes finally finding purchase, then
the balls of her feet at last, then her entire feet, heels pressing on
the cool, but ever so welcome stone. The tension and pressure was
finally released from her wrists and arms and shoulders, and she groaned
with relief.
Her father was there again, and he ran his big hands up her belly, up
her chest beneath her breasts, lifting them and squeezing them softly.
"Who do owns these tits?" he demanded.
Blinking, panting, Destiny stared at his hands on her breasts, then up
at him.
"I asked a question, slave. When a slave is asked a question, a slave
answers or is punished."
"I-I - you?" she gulped, a little dazed.
He squeezed his fingers more tightly and she gasped in pain.
"You master," he growled.
"You, master!"
He released her breasts, then caught her nipples, still swollen and
rigid, despite her exhaustion and unhappiness. One was moist with a tear
which had trickled across it. He pinched his fingers against them and
twisted, pulling, stretching them up and forward so that Destiny was
forced, gasping and whimpering, onto her toes.
"Who owns these nipples, slave?"
"You, master!" she gasped.
He released them, and his right hand slid between her thighs, cupping
and palming her sex.
"Who owns this pussy, slave?"
"Y-You, master!" she gulped.
He moved slowly around behind her, his fingers tracing her ribs, then
the length of her spine, and then opening wide to grasp her soft bottom
and squeeze her buttocks.
"Who owns this ass, slave girl?"
"Y-you do, master," Destiny moaned.
Around in front of her again, his fingers running over her throat,
tracing her lips, then sliding inside, two of them, so that her tongue
drew back.
"Who owns this mouth, slave?" he said in a low, intense voice.
"You do - master," she replied, her lips having difficulty around his
fingers, her tongue moving awkwardly.
"Lick, slave," he said, eyes boring into her.
Her tongue licked at his fingers as her eyes blinked and fluttered.
"Suck, slave," he said starkly.
Her stomach twisted, and she closed her lips, sucking on her father's
fingers, two of them, sliding slowly in and out, in and out, in and out
as she sucked and licked. Then he eased them back, moving around her,
the fingers of his other hand tracing her ribs again, moving up and down
her spine.
And then a warm, wet finger pushed against her rectum, and her eyes went
wide as she felt it rub lightly, then prod at her, dipping just within,
pulling out, then pushing up into her. She gasped as a long finger
pushed and squirmed up into her rectum, her face heating.
"Who owns this tight little hole, slave?"
She gulped and swallowed anxiously. "Y-You do, M-Master."
His finger pushed deeper, all the way to the knuckle, twisting from side
to side, pushing against her insides as she squirmed helplessly,
uncomfortable in both mind and body. None of her lovers had ever spent
much time exploring that particular region of her anatomy, and it felt
very strange that a man who was once her father was doing so.
The finger pulled out, and his big hands grasped her hips, drawing her
backwards, forcing her feet to shuffle along the stone. But her wrists
were held, and she was thus forced to rise, and as he spread her legs,
to rise onto the balls of her feet. Her heart beat more quickly, her
pulse racing as he pulled her bottom out back towards him and ordered
her to stay that way.
Then she felt the pressure against her anal opening again, felt it with
a slack jaw at first, a sense of unreality, of disbelief, of disgust,
and then anger. But there was something else there, as well, a dark
sense of hunger and excitement as she felt what surely had to be her
ex-father's spongy warm cock-head prodding at her anus, slowly pushing
into her, forcing her wrinkled little opening to spread wide around it.
"Oh!" she gasped. "I-I - you - ."
His lips were at her ear, his voice hot, his voice hard. "A slave does
not speak unless invited to do so!" he growled.
And his cock thrust hard, lurching up deeper, so that she felt impaled,
gasping and moaning as it drove higher and then still higher, working
back and forth, his hips twisting from side to side. He drew back a
little ways, and put his hand beneath her mouth.
"Spit," he ordered.
Dazed by the order, gasping, she didn't react until he yanked harshly on
her hair and repeated the order. Then she spit into his hand and it
disappeared. His cock drew back, then thrust up into her again, more
slippery now, moving more easily. She had only been sodomized once, when
very drunk, and could remember little of the experience. She gasped and
moaned and winced anxiously as her father's cock drove achingly high
into her belly, causing cramps to ripple through her.
He drew back, and then thrust up, and then back again, and another
thrust. He began to work himself in and out, pumping, thrusting -
fucking her. Fucking her. Fucking her ass, she thought dazedly. Her own
father was fucking her in the ass!
No, not her father. Not any more. He had said so, hadn't he? He had -
had disowned her. Told her she was no daughter of his. He was not her
father now, just her - jailer, her master, and tears filled her eyes
again at the depths to which she had fallen as his cock worked in and
out with growing ease, battering her anal muscles down. She felt a
swelling sense of anguish, of misery, and then of anger and defiance to
drown them out. Well fuck him! Let him do his worst!
It didn't hurt too badly, though, not too badly, not physically. His
hips began to slap into her bottom now, for he had opened her enough to
take the whole length of his long shaft. She'd never seen her father's
cock before, but it felt immensely long and terribly thick as it moved
up and down in her gut.
"Move your ass back, slut," he ordered, yanking on her hair.
She gasped in pain, and at the shock of the word, so casually used on
her, and by her own father, or ex-father. But she obeyed, grunting more
loudly now as she pushed her bottom back to meet his thrusts. He was
thrusting harder, too, his cock spiking up hard and fast, rutting into
her, his hips striking so heavily against her perfect buttocks that they
were getting pink and sore, wobbling and shacking under each impact. Her
entire body was jarred and shaken by his powerful hips each time he
drove his cock up into her soft, snug, moist belly, and she could only
gasp and grunt and hiss stroke by stroke by stroke.
Her breasts wobbled and shook with the force of her movements, and he
continued to yank back on her hair again and again, and slap at her
bottom to urge her to faster movement.
"You can do better than that, you little whore. Shove your ass back onto
my cock. Squeeze your ass down around it as it pulls out. Open up to let
it in. Are you brainless? Don't you know how to milk a cock, you
ignorant little bitch?"
Her ankles hurt, for she had to stay high on the balls of her feet, and
her bottom was starting to feel bruised and sore as his hips kept
hammering against it. She was numb inside where his cock pumped and
pistoned, and her breasts were starting to ache from wobbling and jerking.
"Squeeze, slut!" he ordered, slapping at her bottom as he pulled his
cock back.
There was something horribly primitive about it, something raw and
carnal about the hard, steady thrusting of that big male cock up into
her belly, about the hard, bruising impact against her buttocks and his
hot breath in her ear.
Her head was drawn back as he continued to hold onto her hair, continued
to pull on it as he thrust up and forward with his cock
"Whore," he panted. "This is all you're good for. And you're not even
good at that yet. But you'll be taught," he said, his voice harsh and
breathless. "You'll learn how to use this slut body properly."
And with that he thrust even harder and faster, and then drove himself
into her to the hilt, ignoring her shuddering moans as he impaled her,
as his cock fountained inside her belly, spewing wad after wad deep into
her bowels, exploding with hot, white liquid heat until he could slowly
relax, loosen his death's hold on her hair and ease his softening prick
back down out of the warm confines of her sucking rectum.
He sighed as he pulled back a bit, looking down at her anal opening,
noting that it remained open, the muscles so battered that they needed
time to recover. He had always come like a gushing fountain, and now as
she began to slowly close he saw his semen begin to slowly appear, to
trickle out of her before she could fully close.
"It took too long for your ass to accommodate my cock, slave," he said.
"Your master should not be forced to wait on the needs of your slut
body. You will wear a butt plug so you'll get used taking cocks up there
more easily."
"Yes, master," she said dully.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the ebook: Bitch-Slave Daughter, by Argus
Argus books have been published by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon, Star,
Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. His ebooks are available for downloading
at http://www.ebookblue.com