Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Desecration {DaddyDom} (Mf bd nc Mdom sm oral spanking rough)
   Chapter 1
   "Daddy, I'm hungry," Delila said, holding her father's hand.  They
walked through the mall, her father in a long leather duster, she in a
goose down coat.  Her father wore a black cowboy hat; Delila, a knitted
cap. It was too warm for what they were wearing, but the coats covered the
wings, and the hats the small horns protruding from their foreheads.  Being
a demon was an awful lot of work.
   "So you'll really teach me to be an incubus," Delila asked hopefully. 
She'd reached her five-hundredth birthday, though in human years she looked
barely thirteen.
   "Succubus," her father corrected, "Girls are called succubus."
   "Women, daddy," Delila protested, "I'm five-hundred." He smiled and
tussled her hair.
   "OK, woman," he teased, "Look around.  Tell me what you see." Delila
frowned, the way she always did when she concentrated.  She scanned the
mall.
   "The skateboarder is kind of cute," Delila said with a smirk.
   "It's not about cute, baby-doll," Daddy said, "Does he seem evil?" She
concentrated.  She wasn't good at sensing corruption yet.  She got nothing.
She sighed.
   "No."
   "The crucifix he's wearing might have been an easier way to figure that
out," Daddy said.  "Remember that.  You take down a wicked person, you
drain them.  Someone pure of heart, they drain you.  Ten minutes in bed
with that boy and you'll be sick for a month." She nodded seriously.
   "What about..." she scanned the food court for a moment.  Then she saw
him.  He was about fourty years old, balding but in good shape.  He was
pretending to read the paper, but what he was really doing is staring at
the teenage girls as they came and went.  Corruption came out of him in
waves.  She grinned.
   "That's my girl," Daddy said, kissing her on the top of her cap.  "I'll
be in the Sharper Image if you need me.  Have fun." Delila stood on her tip
toes and kissed his chin.
   "I can't find my daddy!" The little girl sobbed, clutching at Peter's
sleeve.  He smiled inwardly, but kept his face a mask of concern.
   "What does he look like," he asked, his face exceedingly friendly.
   "Like you, sort of.  Not as handsome though," the little girl added.
   "I see.  Where did you lose him?"
   "The parking garage.  We were walking to the car and I dropped my phone,
and when I looked up he was gone," she said earnestly.  The parking lot. 
This was almost too easy.
   "Do you remember where you parked," he asked, his voice kindly.
   "I think so."
   "How about this, then.  You hop in my van and we'll drive around the
parking garage until we find him?"
   "Really?!" The girls eyes lit up.  This was literally too easy.
   "Of course.  Follow me."
   "Can I hold your hand mister?" She asked, smiling up at him.  He shook
his head and squeezed her small hand.
   Too easy.
   "I can't really see from back here," Delila said, sitting against the
back of the van.  She was bored and hungry, and wished he would get on with
things.
   "It's OK," the man said, "I've got great vision.  Black Thunderbird,
right?"
   "Yes," she said.  He wouldn't find it.  Daddy had an appointment to feed
himself in a half an hour.
   "We'll find it," the man said with pretend confidence.  He was terrible
at this.  They spent another twenty minutes driving through the parking
garage on every level but the one she'd said the car was on.  She was
getting bored, so she played with him.
   "You need handles back here," she said innocently, "You could get
stuck."
   "Yeah...  welll," the man said lamely.
   "It's OK," she said, "I know you just want to fuck me." The van skidded
to a stop, the car behind almost rear ending them.
   "What did you say?" She giggled.
   "I can spot a dirty old man from a mile away," she said, laying on her
stomach and kicking her feet.  "So we're really just wasting time
pretending to find my daddy." The van's side door unlocked.  Delila got
into the passenger seat.  The van slid out of the parking lot, keeping
slightly below the speed limit.
   "So you like little girls?" Delila asked, fumbling with the man's
zipper. He groaned as her practiced hands traced the outline of his cock.
   "I...  well..." She giggled, pushing a hand into his pants and gripping
his cock through his boxer shorts.
   "You don't have to be false with me, mister.  I like bad boys.  So... 
do you like little girls like me?" she asked, running her hand up and down
the length of his cock.  His hands gripped the steering wheel in a white
knuckle grip.
   "Yes.  God yes, I like young girls," the man said through gritted teeth
as she pulled his cock free.  She smiled innocently at him and spit on her
hand, rubbing the spit into his angry red cock.  She rubbed his cock in
long agile strokes, going from the base of his cock to the very tip.  She
could smell his lust.
   "You weren't going to take me to my daddy at all, were you mister?"
Delila asked, pausing to slide her warm mouth half way down his throbbing
cock.  She slid her mouth off with an obscene pop, using her hand to work
the new saliva into his shaft.  "You were going to take me off somewhere
and hurt my little pussy, weren't you?"
   "I wasn't going to hurt you," he said defensively.  He was lying, but
that didn't matter.
   "It's OK mister.  I like it when boys hurt me." She pulled his hand off
the wheel and put it into her hair, careful to keep her knitted cap on. 
"Pull," she said, slightly demanding.  He did and she moaned, stroking his
cock harder; faster.
   "Pull harder," she urged, "Think of every girl who ever told you no,
mister." That got him.  He yanked so hard that her head was jerked back. 
She felt the lust coming off of him in waves.  She was so close.
   "Now make me do whatever you want me to," she whimpered.  He forced her
face into his lap.  She stoked the flames of his lust with her mouth.  At
times she had to slow down, keep him from finishing.  He was close, she
suspected more than close.  But she had to be sure.  She was so hungry.
   Peter pulled the van into the garage, closing the door behind them
before getting out.  It wouldn't do to have the neighbors see him bringing
a preteen girl inside the house.  He led her through the kitchen, the
living room, and down the hallway to his spare bedroom.  The door was
padlocked, and he opened it with a key he kept around his neck.  He made
sure the girl went in first, taking the padlock with him.
   "Wow," the girl said, looking the room over as Peter used the second
padlock bolt to seal the door from the inside.  In one corner of the room
there was a dingy mattress, the walls around it covered in pictures of nude
young girls taken with a Polaroid camera.  The walls were covered with
sexual devices, ropes, handcuffs, and instruments of punishment.
   "Change your mind?" Peter asked sinisterly.  She responded by smiling
over her shoulder and tugging down her jeans and panties.
   "What do you think?" she asked, taking a riding crop down from the wall.
"Have you?" She asked with a wicked grin, handing it to him handle first.
"I'd hate to think you'd gone bitch on me, mister."
   That did it.  His hands were in her hair and forcing her face first into
the dirty mattress.  She felt the first sting of the riding crop and tried
not to coo with pleasure.  Her whimper of pain was just so so.
   "Don't you ever disrespect me again, girl." Another stinging blow hit
her unprotected buttocks.  The darkness was rising in him, and it was
getting her moist.
   "Then don't hit me like a little girl," she said casually.  The blows
came fast and fierce, each one leaving a small square mark where the
leather of the riding crop struck.  She wriggled, not in pain but in
pleasure.  She counted.
   "One, sir.  Two, sir.  Three, sir.  Four, sir." She felt his hands start
to remove her coat and she rolled over quickly.
   "The coat and hat stay on," she said seriously.
   "What if I say otherwise," Peter said, balling up his fists.
   "Then getting this becomes much harder," Delila said, spreading her
legs. Her soft, pink pussy glistened from arousal.  "Wouldn't you much
rather play by the rules and have me any way you want." She gently parted
the lips of her pussy.  He was almost there...  she could feel it.  The
lust, the anger, the evil.  She just needed to push him over the edge.
   "Don't you want to fuck me, Daddy?" she pouted, playing gently with her
clit.  He dropped the riding crop.
   "That's a good boy.  Come fuck your widdle girls tight little pussy,"
she cooed softly, laying on the mattress, wrapping her arms around her
knees.
   Peter moved slowly, practically in a trance.  He stroked his cock
slowly, kneeling between her legs.  She took his cock in her hand and began
running the tip from her bottom to her clit, slowly.  She looked at the
pictures.
   "So many pretty little girls," Delila said smokily.  "Did you fuck them
all?"
   "Yes," Peter groaned.  She wedged the head inside the opening of her
pussy.
   "But none as tight as me, are they?" Delila whispered as he slowly
forced his way inside her.
   "None," Peter could barely say.  The sensations were exquisite.  He'd
never been this hot before.
   "That's a good boy, in and out," Delila whispered, "I'll take good care
of you Daddy." She arched up to kiss him sensually, feeling his lust grow.
But she needed more.
   "Look at the pictures, Daddy," Delila said, using every muscle she could
control to excite and arouse him.  "Remember them.  Remember every single
one." She reached around him as best she could and slid a tiny probing
finger into his bottom.  He moaned.  She felt it.  It was time.
   "Fuck me, Daddy.  Your little girl wants to feel your big hot load of
cum in her tiny little pussy," Delila whimpered.  She wrapped her arms
around his waist now, pulling him tightly against her.  She worked her hips
in agile circles, no longer having to pretend she was some innocent little
girl.  He groaned, and she was rewarded with a hot splash of cum inside
her. She shivered, climaxing as she felt the transfer of lust from him to
her, replenishing her.  Peter stood, shakily, looking very old.
   "What the fuck did you do to me, bitch?" Delila smiled.
   "I killed you.  Well, in about thirty seconds or so," she replied.
   "You're dead." Delila shrugged, taking off her cap and exposing her tiny
horns, then the coat, stretching out her bat wings.
   "I doubt that very much," she said.  In the distance, the sounds of
chains approached.
   "What's that?" Peter asked?
   "Oh, that's your ride," Delila said, "And chains...  that's a very bad
sign."
   Peter was gone soon after, and Delila collected any valuables she could
find.  She drove home in his van.
   ****
   If you dig my stuff check out: http://collarsandsense.com (Note: Though
this story contained elements of underaged stuff it was required to go
where I wanted to with said smut.  But she's also a demon so there you go.
Don't overthink it.)
  
desecration