Daddy Fantasy

DISCLAIMER: This is a FANTASY story. Incest Fantasy, like Rape Fantasy, in no way implies any personal, professional or other approval or justification of incest, which when perpetrated, is a crime against children, a violation of trust and love, and utterly destructive.

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I've never gone all the way. Kissed a few boys, of course, but never anything more. I'm 18 so old enough to do those things, but I've never been very good at...well, you know...any of that stuff. Or at least I don't think I am.

My Daddy is very possessive of me...jealously guarding me; only recently has he said that I can date, and I have not because the boys at school talk about how much they fear him; fear what he will do if any of them so much as approaches me.

The fantasy has no specifics as to time, although I think early summer or Fall are perfect...not too hot. My Mom and Dad have been having lots of marital problems. She works a lot; he works at home, so he is with me a great deal...just he and I, and we live in a rather out of the way place, where he could rape me in the front yard and no one would see or hear.

We have an old farmhouse and a barn; a pond. And a swimming pool because my mother is too good to swim in a pond...Daddy has always said she was too high class and now she seems to be regretting she "settled" for someone she considers lower than herself. Daddy thinks she is having an affair with her boss and I have heard them screaming at each other at night sometimes.

At the time of this fantasy, Mommy has had to leave for ten days on a business trip, and Daddy is so angry it frightens me. They have not slept together for a long time and he is horny, and angry and frustrated.

The third night of the trip, I go swimming in the pool, which I don't usually do (I prefer the pond, but thunderstorms were on the horizon and the pond is farther away from the house and dark). I swam a lap and (with my face down in the water), bump into Daddy (you) because you have come into the pool, in barefeet, unsnapped jeans and no shirt, and standing at the shallow end...you grab my upper arms and pull me out of the water, shaking me and very angry...maybe you've been drinking a little.

"Just like your mother!" you say to me, accusing me of being too high class to swim in the natural pond...have to have some fancy cement pool with pretty blue paint and underwater lights...

I am afraid and don't understand really...try to make you listen, but you say you are going to teach me a lesson and you drag me out of the pool, haul me up into your arms, and carry me to the pond...out in the darkest corner of the field in the backyard.

Afraid to say anything, I endure this in silence, shaking because you are so big and so powerful and your arms under me are so hot. It seems improper. I have heard of fathers...doing things...to their daughters, and suddenly seeing the look on your face as you carry me (looking down at me in my wet suit like a starving man), I can understand that it must be true.

You clench your jaw, looking down at me, and by the time we get to the pond, you seem ready to explode...you throw me into the water...I come up choking, only to have you in the water with me...dragging me out deep...too deep for me. I have never been able to deal with water over my neck; since I was a kid, I fear drowning. I begin to struggle until you say something like, "You shut the fuck up and learn a lesson, little girl...or I'll have to find some other way to teach you!"

You hold onto one of my hands, towing me out while I cry silently, and finally we are in the center of the pond...the bottom is at least three feet below my toes and I begin to panic. I start begging...Please, daddy...please help me...please let me go back...

At first, it seems as if you will, then that look comes over your face again and you use your grip on my wrist to pull me closer to you.

"No," you say, "You're staying right here with me until I tell you that you can leave. I'm the fucking master here! You want to be safe? Come on over here and hold onto me, baby."

I am so filled with fear that I let you pull me to you...then you get one big hand on the small of my back and you pull my chest to yours, making me gasp.

"Hold onto me," you order sternly, while you return to treading water...you have always been an amazingly strong swimmer. "If you want to go back, you gotta hold on to me first"

Desperate, I do what nature compels me to do: I wrap my arms around your neck and my legs around your waist...holding myself up but not tight to you.

Looking me in the face, you say, "Baby...I want to feel you holding on to me. Close."

I slink closer...my thin wet bathing suit is no deterrent from the heat of you...the size of your body...I turn my head to the side so I don't have to look at you, knowing this is some kind of anger at my mother, but also some kind of weird sexual advance, and I am terrified; I put my chest against yours, wincing when you groan a little, but keep my hips away...

Then you growl, "Do it!" and we both know what you mean...I slide my hips forward...and my barely covered cunt comes into its first contact with a hard male cock...my daddy's, and even covered by denim, I know it is hot and hard and too much for my body to take.

You groan again...slide one hand to the small of my back; shove me forward and grind your cock into my delta...and then just as suddenly you shove me away, cursing, grabbing my wrist again and taking me back toward the ground.

At the edge of the pond, you leave me, dumping me on the grass as if you can't stand to touch me any longer, and you stalk off to the house, leaving me alone.

Two days pass in awful silence.

I spend my time reading in my room, chatting with friends on the internet. The day after the pond incident, I come into my room where the computer sits on an antique white desk and there is a hot, thick smell in the room...I sit down to chat, click on my space bar to get the URL which is always there, and find a strange URL in my list...I click it on.

Suddenly I am staring at pictures of very young (although they say they are legal, the website makes them look very, very young) girls...doing all kinds of obscene things to men who are advertised as their "daddies". I click it off fast, but not before staring at a picture of a nude girl who looks like me, with her hands tied behind her back, and her head between her 'daddy's' legs. He is holding his penis which is so hard he looks like he is in pain...and he has one big hand in her hair, fisted, pushing her mouth down over his penis, his head thrown back in pleasure. The caption under the picture read: HE FEEDS HER EVERY INCH OF HIS THROBBING DICK AND SHE LOVES HIS HOT CREAM.

Something odd and hot makes me feel wet between my legs.

That night, another storm is coming in from the west...a bad one, from all the reports, and while I love hard thunderstorms, I hate that you and I will be forced to be alone in the house together. You have spent so much time the last few days in the barn that I have begun to wonder about and fear what may be coming next.

Dusk comes and the humidity is extreme...the lightest outfit I own-a pretty floral sundress- sticks to me, revealing the fact that beneath it I have chosen not to wear a bra. The thing is so thin and I am so hot by nightfall that you can even see the lines of my panties beneath. As I always do when mommy is away, I prepare dinner for you...you have taken all your meals in the barn or waited until after I finished before coming in to eat...avoiding me. I have seen no further evidence that you have been in my room, although while doing laundry I notice that a pair of my silky pink panties are missing. Normally, such a thing would have escaped my notice, but now it seems that I am painfully aware of everything about my body.

The storm rumbles in just after dark; I clear the table, putting a plate for you in the refrigerator because I know you will heat it up later, when you are ready. Standing at the kitchen sink, looking out at the big backyard...the pond, shadowy in the far edge...wondering why this storm seems more portent than meteorological event. In a wild flash of unexpected lightning, the storm breaks, showering down bucketsful of driving rain and with a crackling snap, the lights go out. This is no surprise...to be raised in the wilds means living without such conveniences for some periods of time due to rain or high winds. Nevertheless, I start when the dark blasts in on me, leaving only a sick bit of pale gray light to fall in onto me from the window.

Something rakes down my spine...more omens, I think, wondering if I might be like my grandmother was, always knowing things before they happen, and I stack the dishes as best I can in the dark, then wipe my hands on my apron, untie and fold it, and stack it neatly on the counter by the sink. All things in order. Then I turn and scream.

You are standing behind me, not more than a foot away, deadly silent, your stern expression revealed in bits and pieces by shards of lightning. I think to myself, 'my god, no reason to be afraid...he has always walked like a ghost in a house that creaks like an old sailing ship', but I am afraid.

"You scared me," I say, trying to lighten the moment. "Your dinner's in the-"

"Right here," you say enigmatically, your voice hard with something I have never heard before.

"What?"

"My dinner," you say, your hard, calloused hands coming to take my upper arms in them again. "It's right here." More lightning, flashing for a millionth of a second, and in that millisecond I gasp, trying to pull away, but I know as I do it that there is no escape. What the lightning reveals in your face, I saw once before.

On a computer screen.

In the dark I can't see now...the lightning pauses, breathless, and I moan pitifully in the black, and then I can't speak at all because you are hauling me against your body...your mouth on mine.

Kissing my father...in the middle of the kitchen where my mother made pancakes every Saturday morning until I was seven, in the house where I played...in the arms of the man who was everything to me...and who was now my predator.

You relax as soon as your mouth presses down on mine...I have been kissed before, but only secretly by some boy a year younger, and nothing so expert as this...I tell myself that the opening of my lips to allow your tongue; the way my head falls back; the little moan I make are all nothing more than my weakness yielding to greater strength. The thought that there might be something more in it terrifies me and when your hands slack, when you moan so hard I can feel the vibration of it all the way through my stomach and down to the apex of my thighs, I break from you and run, wild like a filly you've just bought from out of state, frightened in the new place I find myself, and terrified...fleeing to anything, anywhere...

The back screen door is giving way under my shoving hands in an instant, and immediately I am deaf; the rain slamming down drowns out any noise but its own weird, throbbing music. I am heedless of lightning; of the deluge I run into...across the yard, panicking halfway to the pond and skidding to a halt before I run in that direction...

The halt is my downfall, I think later. If I had continued, I would have made it to the wood beyond the pond before you and would have been able to hide there; I wonder for so many years after, if such a choice had not been panic but, simply, choice.

The barn is rushing toward me...or I toward it...everything seems oddly distorted in the storm. But thirty feet before the outer doors you grab me from behind, hard, strong arms around my middle, lifting me easily off my feet, my struggle nearly making you slip in the muddy yard. You pull me to your chest...get my arms under yours so that I cannot hit you, and ignore the backward kicks I deliver.

Your head is beside mine...your mouth by my ear and I think I hear you say something but I cannot make anything out but 'love' and 'baby', and then you are kissing me...standing with your daughter in the storm, water cascading over both of us, over my throat while you kiss me there; my shoulder while your lips slide hotly there...and I realize that you are avid and determined and that my dress is sliding off my shoulders and all but transparent on my body.

I give up. You are too strong by half; too determined, and I know that this is about my mother...your anger toward her...but about me, too, and the latter part frightens me, but I know there is nothing I can do...nowhere I can go now. No escape...my body collapses against yours...my tears and the rain are hot and cold on my face, and only the dull silence and smells of the stable force me to open eyes that I found I closed.

You stand inside the doors, locking them with one hand; holding my whole, limp body against your chest with the other. Then we are encased in darkness; the sweet smell of fresh hay making my tears harder (god, to have this happen in a place I love so well...); the sound of neverending rain beating on the outer boards encasing us.

You say nothing...not yet...oh, the words are coming, though, I can feel them in you. Not willing for me to fight you any longer, you wrap both arms around me again and, my back still to your chest, carry me to the far wall, where there are several wooden dowels hung for tack and coats. Switching your hold to one of my wrists, I hear you moving about...searching the darkness with your hand, and then you have that wrist neatly tied in a leather tether, then quickly the other.

I don't say anything...just allow you to lead me like one of your prized mares down a dark aisle...to the end of the row of stalls and the back wall. There, you shove me against the wall, fasten the end of my lead rope to some hook above my head, stretching my arms up with only a little give for comfort, and then you leave.

You may be gone for ten minutes or ten hours...the time seems to last an eternity. But you return, with one tiny lantern, which you set close to my feet, surrounding only me in a spotlight of buttery light, blinding me after the darkness. You straighten, put your hands to the bodice of my dress, and rip it open, from top to hem.

I scream now...only for an instant, until you shove your hand over my mouth and growl, "I told you before to shut the fuck up...I'm telling you again. If I have to repeat myself, you're gonna be sorry."

I don't know this man...this man who speaks to me as if he is a stranger...is he talking to my mother? Or to me?

"Daddy, please, " I whisper, wondering if hearing such words will remind you of who I am.

"Yeah, I'm your Daddy, baby," you croon, your big hard hands sliding inside my torn dress to move over my shoulders down to my tits, "Your Daddy, baby. Your Daddy's gonna fuck you real good tonight. Gonna show you what your bitch mother never learned...that the cock rules the roost, baby. You learn real good now and don't fuck up like she did. Don't think you can just go balling every rich man who flaunts his cash...you stick with Daddy, baby, and you're gonna be alright."

Closing my lips, I whine as tears choke me. My god, you DO know who I am...and you mean to do this, regardless...for my own good.

At least, that it was you tell yourself...and what I must tell myself to make this anguish believable.

My father's hands are on my tits...I am rather well endowed for someone my age...I hated that before, and now I despise it. Despite your obvious animal lust, your hands are, at first, almost gentle on me...warming my breasts...squeezing lightly, your thumbs and forefingers plucking at my nipples. I whimper at the knowledge that they are hardening; that with every gentle pinch, fire streaks down into my cunt.

Then suddenly your almost loving caress turns more brutal...the squeezing harder, the pinching painful. I throw my head back and howl in pain, but you only go at my tits more fiercely, growling savage obscenities until you bend, filling your mouth with my young tits, and then all I hear is you moaning, growling...licking ugly words against my skin.

Slut...whore...daddy's little cocksucking whore...

The picture from the computer flashes through my mind, wetting my cunt the way your mouth wets my titties, and I whine at the fact that I am receiving anything that remotely resembles pleasure from being raped by my own father.

You have no such inhibitions. Your mouth full of your daughter's young, firm tits, you suck and lick, nibble and flick and bite, all the while groaning like a starving man at a feast. While you eat at my tits, your hands slide down over my belly, around through the shreds of my dress to my ass...squeezing my asscheeks with both big hands; kneading me hard.

"Please, daddy...please don't do this," I beg and immediately you shove me around so I am facing the wall, slapping my ass hard. I scream again, and you hit me again.

"Shut the fuck up," you say again, "I told you you'd regret it."

I nod quickly, crying, trying to be silent while you tear the dress from me, throwing it aside and I am hanging there, only my ass covered by plain white panties.

"You got such a sweet ass, baby girl," you say, kneeling behind me and burying your face in it...groaning again, your hands kneading me, then grabbing the waistline and tearing them away too, leaving me in utter humiliation, my ass bared to your face. "So fucking sweet," you groan, burying your face there again, licking and kissing both tight cheeks. Then your hands slip down between my thighs, pressing them open; spreading my legs until I feel ready to split.

My face and tits smashed into the wooden wall, I feel your hot breath bathing my pussy...

"Sweet holy mother," I hear you say hoarsely..."My baby's cunt..." as if I am some holy grail you have finally accomplished after a hard crusade with your morals. There is utter silence and no movement at all for another eternity, and then you groan, "Fuck!" and your mouth is buried in my virgin cunt, your tongue licking madly, deeply at me, as if you cannot believe that you are tasting heaven between my thighs and that I am so horribly at your mercy.

I know nothing of such things, but I know that you must be masterful at such, because it is not only your tongue that makes me slippery wet. My own body betrays me; that hard little button of my clitoris does not know father from lover and responds to you, jumping to erection and pouting out at you, begging for licks...kisses...suckling. My hips smash forward into the wall and you laugh in my pussy, laughing because you know what effects your mouth has; that you are arousing my body even as my mind fights you.

Grating against the rough wall, my nipples tighten and ache, caressed by cold wood. As you lick and suck at my pussy; my clit, your hands still pressing open my thighs, I sway back and forth between the heat of your desire and the cold press of the planks, the temperature changes making me shiver and sweat and moan...or at least I try to tell myself that it is only a reaction; that it could not possibly be pleasure even as it pleasures me. The nerves in my thighs are excited to the point of trembling; my arms are screaming at having been so mercilessly caught above my head

I hear myself whimpering, soft little purrs and grunts and moans coming from my traitorous throat, until finally they sound as if they are pleading...begging you to go on. You seem to take delight in them because every time one escapes my tight throat, you groan, the sound vibrating into my pussy walls...and my hips are jerking; something hot and tight is spiraling through me, until I nearly cannot withstand it any longer.

You eat, like a beggar at a feast, thrusting your tongue inside me, fucking me with it...I hear your breath huff out each time you shove in...uh...uh...uh...uh...and then you shove three fingers into my hole, impaling me on your little hand-made shaft, and begin to fuck me hard with it...your thrusts moving perfectly with the sounds you make...unh...unh...unh...unh...rhythmic and nasty and wet...