A Daughter's Descent

This is a fictional story, but is based on the fantasy of a former partner - dating back to her freshman year in college.

She held a profound, and increasingly unmasked, affection for her step-father. What began as encouraging him to be her personal voyeur soon evolved into fantasies of tempting him into taking more direct action.

Story is told from her perspective.

*****

After a long night I can sleep through most anything. Still - I'd wake up to his morning visits

almost

every time. And even those rare mornings when I didn't wake up to them? I knew he still visited briefly.

Maybe it should feel awkward, my step-father watching me when he assumes I can't notice...

When I'm at my most exposed.

But those brief moments every morning? Well... Every time I'd feel his eyes linger in the places that spoke most directly to what he wanted? It felt like my skin was on fire. Like I was desperate for his touch to ease the heat he awakened as his eyes lingered on my body.

Most nights I would sleep in something casual and comfortable: an old, over-washed t-shirt & a pair of comfy-yet-cute cheeky panties.

But...I wanted his morning view today to be something that would leave him with enough surprise and yearning to finally yield to his desires.

What his eyes dreamt of each morning? I wanted his body to demand of me, instead.

And if my body was already leading him to gaze secretly and play the voyeur... Well. The clothes don't make the woman, but what self-respecting princess in the making doesn't have some particular lingerie and panties purely intended to flawlessly flatter her body?

I'd gone to sleep early the night before, but only after taking my time in preparing for bed...

I'd opted for little other than lace adorning my curves - in this case, a black lace nighty paired with a matching, tantalizingly-tiny thong.

I'm not sure if the black came off as especially seductive or not, but I liked to think it played well with my dark auburn hair when I wanted to appear especially sultry and needy.

When I heard his footsteps approaching? I immediately felt my heart begin to race.

I was laying on my side -- faced buried in my pillow. I quickly kicked my blankets off, hoping it would look as though they'd been abandoned in my sleep.

The door was barely open, as it was most mornings -- but hearing the sharp intake of breath as he saw my body so nearly exposed?

I nearly moaned with want myself. But...no.

I wanted him to erupt with need, and given the slight squeak of the door's hinges as he swung it open? He seemed to be quickly on the way to giving in to those instincts.

Still... He paused.

I could hear his breathing, rhythmic and quick. I could feel his eyes on my body -- leaving me almost shaking with want. But I didn't feel his touch.

Not yet, at least.

Was he afraid of touching me? Did he not realize how much I wanted him to be my firm, guiding hand?

I barely let my hand move, but didn't dare change position - trying as best I could to feign a half-slumber instead of appearing to awaken. As I did...I let that hand find its way along my thigh, fingertips trailing their way to the growing heat that awaited him.

I didn't want to touch myself, not directly - not yet. But a single fingertip carefully tracing my lips along the lace? Deliberately increasing the pressure at my clit, and briefly shivering involuntarily in response to that pressure?

I heard him step forward again. I could

almost

feel his touch.

Just one last push to make him know it was him I wanted... Was that what it would take to have him ravish me?

As my finger lovingly encircled my clit, I whispered the word I most wanted him to hear from my lips right then:

"Daddy..."

I'm not sure how I expected him to respond. To touch me and claim my body, certainly. But...

With that single word, I seemed to convey to him how much I longed to be his. To be the one to sate his needs. To reciprocate the fawning and appreciation his silent watching had conveyed to me, and the wants his voyeuristic indulgence had kindled in me.

But instead of a tender caress, his first truly intimate touch was the brief brushing of his fingers as they entered the waistband of my panties...before pulling them down my thighs, legs, and off with far more force than was needed. I didn't know if this was a show of his desire or a game of control, but as he continued to roughly force off my nighty? I knew I wanted nothing but to be used as he saw fit.

To be

his

.

He held my face into the pillow, but guided my hips upwards -- my legs only barely separated. Even though my breasts were beyond his view -- my most intimate parts were on display, just for him.

I relished the exposure. And while part of me was terrified by that, a larger part was internally pleading for him to push me even further.

I expected to feel his cock enter me, wondering hopefully at its size...but it was his tongue that began exploring my exposed slit first.

Whatever strength I had to withhold my moans before was now gone, lost & surrendered. I understood immediately why my face was being held so forcefully in the pillows: I wouldn't have to be quiet. And while my first moans of eager desperation at being his plaything were

mostly

suppressed by the pillow? He continued on by teasing my clit with a more responsive caress than I was used to from another.

Soon after I turned my head to the side to barely whisper my gratitude & pleasure:

"Thank you, Daddy... This is so much better than you watching me."

My mind was slipping into something of a pleasurable haze, but my body was responding on instinct -- and he was capitalizing on that. But as my breathing quickened and my needed release approached...his tongue left my wetness.

Before I could beg for more, though, it was replaced with the slow, firm thrust I had been yearning for from the onset. His hands were gentle as they first took my breasts (modest B-cups). But he soon began fondling them roughly -- only briefly pausing to adjust my position slightly with each new thrust.

This was what I had wanted. The feeling of fullness, of being sated in the most carnal and pure way possible. To be his. My own hand sought my clit, teasing it and working to time my attentions to match his thrusting. My moans faded as I felt a blissful climax approaching.

By then, I couldn't help it. I wanted to know he would cum with me. For me.

"Fill me. I need to feel it. Please, Daddy."

The pressure of him pushing my face back into the pillow?

I couldn't speak. I could barely breathe.

But the explosive warmth and pleasure his attention had provided? I...had no energy left in me to resist. Nor, in truth, any desire to.

The spurting heat that filled my pussy as he came, too? Followed by the feeling of his cock, unwillingly, leaving my exposed cunt?

The afterglow of that was knowing I was his, and that I desired nothing else but to walk a path of eager submission at his instruction.