Daddy's Little Psychopath

Greetings, readers. First an apology.

Sorry I've been away for so long. I've been working on other writing projects (trying to turn my long-unfinished novel into a FINISHED novel) and issues with my personal life have kept me busy. That doesn't mean I have given up on you or that I'm abandoning Literotica. I love you guys, and I would never do that. You can count on me to continue writing by hook or by crook.

Now for my new readers: this is the third installment of my Daddy's Little Psychopath series.

Chapter One can be found here

,

Chapter Two can be found here

and

Chapter Three can be found here

. You can expect this story to contain the following tags: cuckquean, father-daughter incest, mother-daughter incest, rough sex, reluctance, and blackmail. If that isn't your cup of tea, you can try most of my other series, as they are quite different from this one.

Please, please, please leave a comment below. I can't stress enough how much feedback helps me write.

***

Addendum to editors: This story does not contain any scenes of explicit sex with characters under the legal age of consent (18).

******

I let Daddy pour all of rich, creamy seed into me while I held him close and breathed into his ear, both of our bodies slick and glistened with sweat. He always felt deliciously warm after spending all of energy to seed me. The scent of our combined sex hit me already; the incestuous cocktail between my legs, oozing from my cunt even as my father's cock stay lodged within.

I licked his ear, a sign of appreciation for demonstrating how much he loved me. Then, my eyes fell upon the mirror in front. I gazed at myself, conjoined with my father on the countertop of tiny room, my legs spread wide for him, his ass thrust deeply between them, and my hair ragged and chaotic like a freshly-fucked whore.

I preserved it to my memory. My near-perfect, eidetic memory. The best part about being a genius wasn't just being smarter than everyone else or getting people to do anything I wanted—it was the fact that I could recall moments like this in almost flawless detail. To date, I still had the memory of the first time I fucked my father tucked away in my special place. He was helpless in bed, paralyzed by the virus I'd poisoned him with; I forced him to empty his balls into my cunt even though he was delirious with a fever. It was

amazing.

But this image was even more special. As always, the sex was fantastic, and Daddy had become well-trained at pleasuring me. But, the true excitement came from gazing into our reflection, knowing that if I could see this image . . . then so could The Bitch.

She was there. On the other side of the "mirror", watching us. Everything I could see in the glass before me, she could see from the next room. She could see her husband pumping his semen into my cunt. She could hear him crying out with greater joy than she could ever give him. Yes, that's exactly what 'she' would see.

My 'mother'.

I hated to even use that word to describe her. She wasn't a mother; she was proof that genetics have a sense of humor. The only reason any competent God would have created her was so that she could give birth to her far superior replacement:

me.

But that was also the very reason why I am an atheist; that same God should have been smart enough to know that the world would be a better place if only she'd died in childbirth.

"Ooooo, thank you for fucking me, Daddy," I whispered into his ear just before I kissed his soft and masculine lips. He responded in kind, and we shared time exploring one-anothers' mouths as his hands roamed everywhere. My skin was always extra sensitive post-coitus, and he took

full

advantage. He seemed proud, confident, his male ego reassured when his daughter thanked him for plowing her tight pussy. I had Daddy wrapped around my finger, and I wanted

her

to see it.

Eventually, Daddy went limp and pulled out. I stayed in my spread position, reclined on the counter like a wanton slut. I pushed a finger into my pussy to coax as much of his cum out of me as possible. I wanted her to see that too. Her spouse's cum pouring out of me, just in case she had forgotten in the past couple seconds.

Hey, she's a moron. They do things like that.

*****

After Daddy left, I floated from the counter and exited myself. I went the opposite way we come, and wound up in the dark, empty room where The Bitch was. I clicked the light switch and brought the room to full illumination.

"How did you like the show?" I asked her, probing for a response. "How did you like seeing your husband fucking me so handsomely?"

She panted and swallowed. "I . . . I . . ."

I smiled. "Did you

enjoy

it?"

"Oh, God . . ." she sobbed. Good. The aphrodisiac was doing its job. Contrary to myth, they don't work like magic love potions, making someone immediately fall head-over-heels. It takes time. Back when I was eighteen, I began wearing my own chemical mix of pollen, vanilla extract, and my own cum. Whenever I was near Daddy, I would let him get a good whiff even as I bombarded him from all sides with seduction. It took a long time to get him to become

instantly

hard in my presence, but the wait was worth it.

The concoction I used for the bitch was different, but her reaction was much quicker. Quicker than even

I

expected.

I slowly unfastened her restraints, allowing her to move as she wished. She remained still, trying to catch her breath. Trying to make sense of the mixture of emotion that must have been flooding through her.

She still needed a little . . . guidance. So once her binds were released, my pussy parked right next to her face as she turned toward me with wide eyes.

"It's intoxicating, isn't it?" I asked her. "The cream Daddy pumped into me makes such a delightful mixture with my own cum, doesn't it? Doesn't it look and smell so

inviting?

"

She swallowed deeply as she watched it oozing from between my legs. She didn't provide an answer.

"Go on," I spoke to her like an infant. "Taste it if you want. It's alright."

I could tell that she was confused. Did she really want to do this? Would this make

me

happy? I simply held my cunt open and waited, meeting her eyes with an expectant stare.

When her hand reached for my pussy, I smacked it away. "No, no. Use your tongue

only

. Come on, 'Mommy-dearest'. Get a good tasting of Daddy and me's

'special recipe'.

"

She hesitated and looked up at me. I only gazed at her expectantly. I didn't waiver my eye contact. I was in control, and she knew it.

She leaned forward and poked her tongue out, gently touching the folds of my pussy, where the gooey gobs of Daddy's cream were still oozing out. I felt her wet tongue tickling my moist flesh, and I moaned without realizing.

I grasped the top of her head tightly and trusted it her face into my sex. I held her in place, with no chance to escape. I pushed my hips forward to meet her lips.

My mother began lapping at my pussy, gobbling up all of the cum Daddy had dumped into me—tasting for herself how good his juice was when mixed with mine.

My free hand roamed across my naked front, drifting from my swollen, milk-laden breasts and the bulbous belly which held my Daddy's baby. I saw her eyes glance up to notice it once, and she immediately invoked a shiver. She moaned softly as I pushed her mouth deeper into my cunt.

She'd just realized that the exact concoction she was eating was exactly what had created the grandchild in my belly. The thought of it made her cum instantly.

"Alright, you can stop now," I told her, pushing her away. I made sure to separate her from me right at the cusp of her orgasm, and just for a moment, I saw her glance at me with disappointment.

"I hope you enjoyed the show, 'Mommy'," I said to her, stepping away. "I wanted to you to fully appreciate where your place in this family was going to be from now on. I wanted to see it with your own eyes."

Her eyes filled with tears as I left her with those words. I wasn't quite sure what part of her that statement had cut the most, but it really didn't matter. Seeing the The Bitch on the floor, utterly broken, with her face dribbling the cum her husband had left in my pussy . . .

. . . The feeling made me cum again.

******

I didn't do anything

too

sinister for the next few days. Mostly, I would just lightly brush my arms or fingers across Daddy's chest, buttocks or shoulder when I passed him, and note the look in The Bitch's face as she watched him react to it. I wanted her to know that I owned him, just like I now owned everyone and everything else in this house. I could make him dance at my whims, and there was nothing she could do about it. Every now and again, I even called to Daddy from another room and beckoned him to me, making him jump to me like a puppy as I whisked him into our special place.

I knew I was skirting the "rules" of our little game—threatening to let Daddy on that I knew his secret. But, I didn't care. The look of defeat in her eyes was well worth it.

I didn't even talk to the bitch directly again until several days afterward.

I handed her a list. "Here you go, Bitch. Read it."

She took the note from me and glanced at the names and phone numbers upon it. Of course, she didn't understand what it was for.

"W-What is this?" she asked me.

"Those are 'friends' of mine that you and Daddy are going to begin fucking."

Her eyes nearly popped from her skull. "T-There's at least twenty names here!"

"That's right, and you're going to fuck them all within the next month. You'll have to schedule for later in the evening, though. They won't be available to play until school lets out."

Her eyes snapped to me. "

School!?

Ronnie, how old are some of these—"

"Pay attention. I'm talking. Your question is irrelevant, anyway. You and Daddy are

going

to fuck them. Period."

I licked my lips. "Besides, all of them are just

aching

to fuck Daddy. You know how teen girls

love

older, distinguished men, don't you? I've chatted with each of them online, shown them Daddy's picture, and they're quite eager to bed him. Didn't you know what a catch your husband was? You

must

be aware that if you had been out of the picture, Daddy would have gotten all the young pussy he could ever want. Personally, I don't think he'd mind.

"But this won't be a one-man show, I'm afraid. Some of them were upset when I told them that a sag-chested hag like you was part of the package deal, but they'd do anything to get a man like Daddy to fuck them.

"Also, the deal was no condoms. They hate them. So, you're going to make good use of that little 'lesson' I gave you the other day, and you are going to lick the cum all of their pussies after Daddy finishes inside. I gave a glowing review of how good at it you were, and this was the only way we could come to terms."

I could tell that she was upset, and

God

it made me so horny. If Daddy had been around, I would have fucked him in front of her right then. As it was, I couldn't help myself and started fingering myself while I looked at the anguish on her face.

"You . . . you want me to just whore out my husband?" she asked me.

In truth, my original plan had been to whore out

both

of them, separately. It was all part of our little game. At first, I was going to have an entire varsity football team take turns on her, but Daddy had gone and made that stupid threat. He told me not to 'harm' her or make her 'unhappy'.

'Unhappy?!'

Hmph. I bet a whore like her would have come to like being gangraped; by the time every boy had his turn, she would've been begging them for more.

But I couldn't risk it now. I needed to make baby steps. My plans had changed so that I could play the game without breaking her.

In truth, it wouldn't be that difficult. And, actually, I was beginning to like

this

game better than the original one I had planned. It required more ingenuity—more

finesse.

But it still sucked.

I wanted to make this bitch suffer.

"As I recall, you

immensely

enjoyed the last time I arranged a threesome for the two of you," I responded, continuing to finger my clit. "In fact, you enjoyed watching your husband pounding that young girl's pussy, and just as you did with he and I the other day."

She swallowed. The reaction in her eyes was so predicable She was accepting the logic I fed to her.

It made me even wetter. God, the way someone's face changes when they know they're beaten . . .

I pulled the puppet's strings a little more. "If you would like to, you can suck my clit right now until I come."

Her eyes snapped to me. She knew how much I hated her; how unclean I thought she was, body and soul. I hated the thought of being near her stench, of being near the air she polluted with her presence. But, this was a special exception. When she suffers . . . when she realizes how pathetic she is, she's

beautiful

to me. And I without Daddy's cock nearby, I needed

something

to take care of my insatiable lust.

But the beauty of it was that I'd given her a

choice.

Step Two of Stockholm's Syndrome: when held captive by someone they fear, the hostage will do anything to make their captors see them as valuable. In their subconscious, they think it humanizes them in the captor's eyes. . . makes them harder to hurt if things turn for the worst.

She wasn't able to help herself. Ha. So gullible, like most idiots. People are sheep, waiting to be led either to the pasture or the slaughterhouse by their superior. I knew what her choice would be before even she did, and as I watched her fall to her knees and lean her head between my legs, my arousal only doubled.

"Come on, now. Lick your baby girl's juicy cunt."

******

-DAVID-

I didn't know what Rhonda was planning anymore. I didn't have a clue in hell what her game was, but . . . God help me, I was starting not to care. I didn't think it was possible, but my sex drive had gotten even

higher

ever since I let Eileen in on our dirty little secret. Maybe Rhonda suspected that Eileen knows the truth and this was her way of reestablishing control . . . I had no idea. All I knew is that I'd never enjoyed so much pussy in my entire life, and I didn't know if I could stop if I wanted to.

Rhonda let me know that she would be "renting" my cock out. The way she explained it, there were a number of co-ed friends that would require fair payment for a few favors. Somehow, she convinced most of them that making use of my cock would square them, and the girls agreed. I didn't know how Rhonda pulled

that

off, and to be honest, it really didn't matter. All I knew was that for months, I got visit after visit from a long line of gorgeous teens who craved my cock.

Once again, the deal was that I needed to convince Eileen to participate. Unknown to Rhonda, I let my wife know right away that this was one of our daughter's schemes, but she didn't seem to pay that any heed. For whatever reason, Eileen was even more eager to go through with our group "activites" this time than before. If I didn't know any better, I could almost swear that Eileen had grown to love the taste of clit and the touch of another woman. God, I wanted that to be the case. It would kill me to think that she was doing this solely for my sake.

I dared not ask, though. I'd grown way too accustomed to my situation, for better or worse. Sex was like a drug for me now, and I was willing to shut up and do whatever Rhonda wanted me to, so long as I got more and more of it.

To my astonishment, Rhonda didn't show an ounce of jealousy regarding the other girls. They were younger than Ronnie, and some of them had larger busts, tighter asses, and fitter bodies. There were even a few exotic hotties here and there. I fucked at least three black co-eds, one Chinese, and one girl from Saudi Arabian. The latter one, incidentally, became my favorite out of the bunch. I had never known that a Middle Eastern woman could be such a whore. I'd always thought that it was against their religion or something. But this girl would do

anything

for my cock.

Rhonda didn't mind at all, and sometimes, I would even fuck her while she replayed some of my other sessions. It would turn us both on to watch me pump into some tight teen cunt for nearly half an hour and then empty my balls inside her. More than once, I would cum simultaneously both on the screen and inside my daughter's pussy. Rhonda screamed through an orgasm every time I did it, and I tended to lose every ounce of control.

This went on for

months.

Don't ask me how I managed to find the stamina to fuck a plethora of young girls, my daughter, and my wife just about every day. I have no idea how. But somehow, I did.

One day, I was fucking Rhonda from behind while she fast-forwarded through a video of myself, Eileen and Katy (the Arab girl). If I recall right, this was either the third or fourth time we had met with Katy, and one of the more intense sessions. While I fucked Katy on her hands and knees, she was screaming as my cock slid in and out of her eighteen-year-old pussy. She never shut up during the entire fucking, and it took Eileen sticking a nipple in her mouth to deafen the noise.

Whenever her mouth was free, Katy would be in tears, sobbing how much she loved my cock. How she couldn't believe how good I was. She told me that she would do anything for my cock. She would cook for me. She would clean for me. She'd quit school and have my babies.

God, how that turned me on. Do you have any idea what it does to a forty-something to hear a teen girl scream her love for his cock? To say that she'd be willing to throw her whole future away to have his babies?

As I watched it onscreen, I unconsciously reached down and scooped a hand under Rhonda's belly. By this time, Rhonda was more than seven months showing, but she looked closer to nine months. We'd found out, you see, that she was going to have triplets—a first for our family. Just hearing another woman screaming for me to impregnate her made me appreciative of the buns I already had growing in my daughter's oven. Rhonda still looked obscenely sexy as her belly widened with our children.

But, as she watched me fuck Katy on the television, Ronnie seemed transfixed by something.

"Mmmm, Daddy . . ." she purred, "you really did conquer that poor girl, didn't you?"

I only grunted my answer, too busy thrusting my hips hard into Ronnie's ass to be intelligible.

"I should be jealous, you know," she told me with a gasp, wriggling her pussy muscles so that they gripped my cock as tightly as a set of fingers. "You fuck her different than you fuck me." She forced me to slow my stride, but I responded by making the in-strokes harder than ever. Rhonda grunted her pleasure and I felt her heeled slippers rise to rub against my inner thigh.

But I didn't know how to respond. Rhonda sounded upset, but her actions were loving . . . affectionate. That was always the problem with Ronnie . . . her mood swings were too unpredictable. Saying the wrong thing right now would tick her off , and who knew what she'd do afterwards.

"What . . . what would you like me to do, Ronnie?" I asked pleadingly.

She chuckled. "Nothing, Daddy. I'm not upset. " She turned to face me and caressed my face as I continued to fuck her. "You can do with that slut whatever you want. I don't mind."