New World

TWO

New World

I sit in my chair and look at you.

You sit on your heels and look at me.

Your top is off, my shirt is open.

Your short cut-offs are tight, my cock is hanging out my fly.

Your beautiful pale blonde hair is piled in my lap, my grey-flecked auburn hair brushes my shoulders.

We are silent.

Both considering the import of the last few minutes of conversation.

You are wondering about what you found out about Mrs Wilson, about her farm, about shows, about hurting, about wanting to hurt and wanting to be hurt. And about me in all of that.

I am wondering what you are wondering about, about what you already know, what questions you have, what desires have been awakened in you, what fears aroused.

And we are both wondering how we can move on from this moment into our future together.

And we are both fully engaged with each other. The silence between us connects us in a way words could not.

So we sit.

We sit.

And we sit.

I'm not sure what you want. Hell, I'm not sure what I want.

But I KNOW we both want it

And we both know that our relationship has changed forever.

Suddenly, almost without thought, I stand, still gripping your hair around my cock and start walking. You don't have time to stand - besides, the tether of your hair won't allow it.

You scramble along on your knees, quickly, keeping up with me as I stride across the floor and down the hall.

I stand at the bottom of the stairs and use your hair as a pale, soft jacking sleeve. You kneel beside me and sit back on your heels.

I know I want to go upstairs.

To my room.

To the room I'd shared with your mother.

To the room full of accommodations, tools and toys suited to my purpose. To my general purpose. At this moment I don't have a purpose, no goal, no thought of what to do. But, I know I want to do something.

I look down at you, you lay your head gently against my thigh and look up expectantly.

Neither of us knows what we're doing, but we do know we're doing something.

We'd played and teased many times - and even fucked a couple times - THIS is different. This is different.

I don't know what to do.

I look down at you and you look up at me.

We are both waiting.

"What do you want to do, Sweet?"

"What do you want?"

"Yeah. OK. We're going up. Do you want me to drag you up the stairs by your hair, do you want to crawl up while I use your hair like a leash, or do you want to walk up hand in hand?"

You look up at me with a kaleidoscopic face. I see the swirling in your mind.

Your's mirrors mine.

I decide I'll force you to decide. I release your hair from my cock, and, gripping the very end of your long, long hair - nearly as long as you are tall - start walking up the stairs. I do not look back to see, though I can feel what's happening through the tether of your hair.

You scramble to your feet quickly, and dash to follow me up the stairs, ending up bent over because I hold your hair mid-thigh and I am two or three steps above you. I feel your eager desire to keep up, compelled by my pain-framed control of you. It feels good.

When we get to my bedroom, I whip my arm in a swift arc, pulling your head by the hair and flinging you to the bed. You hit the mattress with a 'whoof' and turn to stare at me wide-eyed. We are in an entirely new world - and we are the only ones in it.

Our eyes are locked until you make a very slight, almost impercetible nod, and I smile, and lower my body down onto you.

We lie there breathing together.

Without speaking.

We are love.

You are curled loosely, lying on your side, head resting in your palm supported on your elbow. I flop over your body and spoon into you, my much larger body engulfing yours.

I lie there for quite a time; We lie there for quite a time.

You wriggle to snuggle more closely against me and my cock snaps a brief salute, tapping your ass cheek. You grind your butt against me and I am moved to action.

I rise to kneel, the front of my thighs pressed against the back of yours. I take my cock in hand and bang on the upper roundness of your ass, slapping you teasingly. I pull my pelvis back and raise my hips so I can ring my fingers around my shaft and set the head against your dripping, throbbing pussy.

I very slowly press into you, the dryness of my cock causes my drive to chutter between your cunt lips.

After I am fully sheathed in you, I begin pumping, using your raised hip bones as a fulcrum, the center of my arc. I grip one of your knees with my left hand for support. I reach down to mash your tit into the mattress with my right.

I could say it was for support as well, but really, I just like mashing tits whenever I can.

I do like hurting women.

I do not injure or degrade women.

My mind forms these and more thoughts expressing my condition, delights, habits - but every other part of my being is focused on wringing the most pleasure possible from you, for you, for us to share.

Twisting, you reach up to hug me, ripping your nipple from under the pad of my thumb, the Venus Mound of my thumb.

You move so fast that you are gone before I notice. Your new pose, places your other tit uppermost on your ribs, standing soft and stiff with nipple pointing to the ceiling. This has rotated your hips down towards me, limiting how far I can get into your cunt, only the head and maybe an inch, but I keep pumping slow and shallow and you clutch and squeeze and try to draw me in deeper. I lean down to suck and bite on your nipple, to tug it with my teeth and release it to fall, quivering, home.

This move has pulled me out of you and my cock smears your juice over the groove of your ass.

You roll under me, and I straddle your left leg and jam my knee against your pussy, you rock your cunt up and down my leg. You plant your feet firmly on each side and, with this new leverage, rub more energetically, eventually getting wild, lifting your entire torso off the bed, and spreading your wetness halfway up my thigh. I grip your waist, fingers lifting you, supporting you, holding you at just the height of my crotch. I lift you, move you, twist and wiggle your pelvis until I'm lined up to you perfectly.

I pull you to me, sheathing in one steady motion and hold you mashed against me, my cock well inside. I tense and relax my cock muscles, bouncing my dickhead on the sides of your cervix. And your cunt resumes its muscular milking, trying to suck and pull me in, but failing in the attempt.

Failing in THAT attempt, but I start making my contribution to the liquid in your pussy and my thumbs clutch into your belly, digging in and isolating your obliques, grabbing and gripping them like they were hawsers. Like if I let go, I'd drop into the sea, falling into the abyss.

I totter and you feel me nearly fall over. You wrap your powerful legs around my waist and roll up, lifting me to balance on your upraised crotch, my abs soaking in the wetness.

So delightful.

I regain my senses and look down at you. You've been watching me all through the long minutes of recovery, studying, considering, questioning.

"Dad, do you like to hurt girls?"

I stutter out something - totally incoherent to me - some equivocal gibberish.

"Dad, do you want to hurt me?"

I freeze in place. Opportunity. Trap. Complication. Ecstasy. Dream. Fear.

"Do you want me to hurt you?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I."

"So..."

"Yes, so..."

"Let's take a shower."

"Yes. Good answer."

We both laugh, untangle and head for the shower.

As we stand in the spray of the showerhead - more of a cascade, really, I'd swapped out the old head for this waterfall head - the water falls heavy on your hair, washing and streaming through your quiet gold, burnishing it to a high gloss. I capture some of the stream to fill the big silver pitcher and hold it over your head.

"Look up, Mel."

As you lift your head obediently, I empty the entire pitcher over your face, grab your hair and hold you arched back, looking at the ceiling. I again fill the pitcher and again splash the entire gallon or so into your face at once. You are gasping and sputtering as I turn you to the shower and the cascade pummels your tits, arched up to greet it. I catch more water and pour the pitcherful again and again. You are blowing water out of your mouth, out of your nose and your eyes are closed shut. I move my hand to your throat and wrap my fingers around your neck. Pulling your hair, forcing you into an arch, and holding your throat fixes you in a position with your nipples and the soft mounds supporting them being hammered by the heavy flow of water.

I can tell you are struggling to breath, but you are also struggling to remain still, in the position I have set you into.

You feel the head of my cock brushing against the back of your waist. I rock back and forth, grazing over your spine.

I lean down to kiss and suck your beautiful tits and squeeze your leg between mine, mashing my stiffness against your side, my balls rolling over your hip bone.

I wrap your hair in my fist and, slamming three fingers into your cunt, I turn you so that the cascade out of the showerhead pounds on your face, bouncing off all over the shower.

You gasp for air, it's available, but every time you open your mouth, it fills with water and you keep sneezing out water which has filled your nose.

I reach around to grab your tits and force my fingers into your soft mounds, roughly grinding the mass of your breasts against your hard ribs and and, twisting them, my fingers dug in at the base so your skin stretches between your bloated melons and your chest.

You could move. You could resist. You could pull away. You could cry out.

You do not.

You stand and take all this as a natural thing for a father to be doing in the shower with his daughter.

And that is because it is.

You reach down and begin stroking your pussy.

I growl in your ear, reach down with both hands to grab your wrists and roughly jerk them up to the neck of the showerhead.

"Hold on."

You obey and grip it with both hands.

I cup your throat with one hand and pull you back against me. I bend my head around and kiss your temples. My other hand goes down to cup your pussy, just resting my hand on your mound. You wriggle down against my hand and I encourage you, rubbing and lifting into your crotch.

My balls rest on the top of your ass and you roll back against them, scrubbing your cunt against my hands.

I slip two fingers from each hand a couple knuckles deep into your blossomed pussy. You bend your knees to get me deeper, but that can't happen while I am reaching around you like this. You reach down with one hand to encourage me.

I growl.

"I'm sorry, Dad," and you reach back up to the shower.

I lift you, my fingers in your cunt acting like loading hooks. I hold you, your feet dangling to my knees. I line you up with my cock and lower you onto it, stretching your lips wide. You gasp, inhale and hold that breath as my dick joins my four fingers, filling you to twice the width. Your exhale with a chudder and your head goes down, arching your back to the pounding stream of water. I spread your slit open wider, pulling your lips to the sides as far as I can. I slip two more finger into your snatch, one from each hand. I start slowly rocking my cock in and out of you, while you are stretched so wide your muscles have no way to hug me with your sheath, I am just fucking a wet hole leading to a heaven of hot wet pillows.

You are swagged between your cunt, which I am gripping with your ass pressed against my gut, your legs dangling, and your elbows and forearms braced against the wall beneath the showerhead as you cling to the neck. As I stroke into you, you lift your legs and wrap them awkwardly around my hips. I am pumping your hole on my shaft, you help me as much as you can - not really much - but it is a delight.

As my thrusting builds in intensity I am driving you to bang your head against the wall of the stall. Rather than scream at me to stop, your breath catches and your cunt clenches my cock like a vice.

Each time your head cracks into the tile.

I stiffen and begin to inject my come deep into you, but, because you are opened so wide my come just falls out and is washed down the drain.

I pull out and, pulling your wrists loose from the showerhead, I flip you around and drop you to your knees at my feet. I slap your face a few times with my cock and you open your mouth, chasing me until you capture me and suck me into your wetness - eagerly swallowing and sucking on my softening dick.

I wrap the hair on top of your head into my fist and start pulling you back and forth, to jam deep against your throat and pull out fast and far. Eventually, too far and on the return I slam against your ass, missing your cunt altogether.

I drop you and your hands are ripped from the showerhead, you fall quickly and you knees hit the bottom of the tub with a resounding thud that echoes off the tile walls. Your echoing scream scares me.

I kneel down beside you in the torrent of water and stroke your head.

"Are you OK, honey?"

You look at me with a glowing smile, your eyes twinkling lustfully.

"Yeah. I'm OK, Dad."

You grab my head and thrust your tongue into my mouth and writhe like a snake behind my teeth.

I step out of the shower and sit on the toilet, lid closed, and watch you kneeling in the cascade. The water hits you on the back of the head and washes through your hair, piling up over the upturned soles of your feet.

You watch me watch you.

I bend over, my chest pressing against my knees, and reach out to grab your hair on the back of your head, snug against your scalp. I pull back and down, forcing your face up to take the full brunt of the heavy waterfall. Your mouth opens in response and immediately fills with water.

You straighten up - no, you do not.

You TRY to starighten up.

My hold on your locks prevents that, holding firm against your tug. You gag, spit out a heavy mouthful and close your lips. Water splashes off your face and flows over your breasts.

I pull your head back, knocking it against the wall between the faucets, bouncing off the shower dial. You open your mouth to scream and, being behind the cascading shower, your scream comes out and echoes off the tile walls.

I enjoy the pummeling your tits are getting, pounding and driving them down only for them to bounce back up when stretched to the end point of their elasticity.

Delightful.

I am distracted by your movement, to stroking and plumbing your fingers into your cunt, thrusting up to envelope most of their length.

I pull your hair up, lifting you to your feet and drag you out of the bathroom, walking briskly. My grip is right up against your head so you must shuffle rapidly behind me.

Down the stairs on the way into to the kitchen I drag you, but near the bottom of the stairs you stumble and fall to your knees. I continue pulling you, dragging you face down, your tits gripped momentarily by the edge of each step. I continue to the kitchen. You struggle to get your hands under you, unsuccessfully, as you slide over the wood floor in the hall. You keep falling forward as I pull you off your hands by your hair.

As I pull you into the kitchen, your tits are caught at the threshold by the weight of your torso. Reaching the island counter I lift you up to stand with your abs pressed against the counter edge.

I push you, bending you over, your tits mashed into the countertop. I grab a large whisk and begin rubbing it's stainless steel loops over your ass. You moan.

I release your hair, keeping one hand pressed hard between your shoulder blades, holding you down.

I draw the whisk between your legs a couple times, you lift and push back in accommodation. I pump the loose loops fast and press them hard against your soft, wet crotch.

You push back, rubbing against the steel between your thighs.

I pull back my arm and reach across to slam the whisk against your right ass check. You shout and I slam your left ass check. I alternate striking your ass cheeks, faster and harder with each stroke.

I shift my stance for a better angle and hit your crotch deep.

"Spread your legs."

You do and my assault continues to get more severe, now that the loops of the whisk are dividing on peaks of resistence and being guided into the shallows and hollows around your cunt. And entering the valley of the tender groove itself. You writhe and struggle under each blow, tits still mashed flat against the counter, torso still held immobile.

I flip the whisk around and begin tracing the ballooning lips of your cunt. You thrust back, attempting to swallow the stainless utensil. I pump a few times - deep - then pull it out and toss the whisk over into the sink.

I stand and walk to the refrigerator, pull out a pint of icecream (vanilla), grab a spoon and move to sit on the opposite side of the island from where you lie, still not moving from the position I set you in.

"Ice cream?"

You look up to me, opening your eyes for the first time since I pushed you down over the counter. On your face I read... confusion?

No, you know what's happening. Fear?

No, you are panting with erotic vigor.

Expectation? OK, that's likely. This has never happened between us before - you do not know where it is leading.

"Ice cream?"

I dip a spoonful out of the cup, stick it in my mouth and pull it slowly out through my half open lips, smoothing the lump left in the spoon.

You look at me.

I reach across the counter, offering the spoon, stroking your lips with the cold treat. You open your mouth. I insert the spoon and leave it to you.

You, eyes never leaving mine, suck on the spoon for half a minute then pull it out and hand it back to me.

I repeat my actions, this time you pull the spoon out almost immediately. Empty. And hand it back to me.

I scoop out a large double spoonful and walk around the counter. My knee between your legs, I force your thighs wider and stroke the icecream against your cunt mound. You recoil, snagging my spoon between your thighs.

I lift and rub the melting glob against your cunt, twisting and thrusting and pushing until the spoon is forced inside you. I turn the spoon and pull out, leaving the quarter cup of icecream inside you.

I pull back on your shoulders and seat you on the near stool, trapping the icecream inside you.

I walk back to the other side and sit on a stool there.

I watch you.

You watch me.

"Did you like that?"

"Did you?"

"Did you like hurting me?"

"Did you like me hurting you?"

We both watch each others face hopefully

"Yes."