Not Fair Ch 03

Again thanks for the feedback...

Let me explain myself, the rape, it doesn't and would never get me off, but it is part of Amy's life and i want to show how it makes her the person she eventually will become, bear with me, it gets better....

Yall know the drill :-) vote and leave feedback.

CHAPTER 3.

Mary leaves...

Four weeks after fucking his daughter, George's wife left him.

It was just as he'd suspected. The 38-year-old woman had found a sugar-daddy, a man who worked with her sister who made more money and was willing to lavish her with gifts. She'd been seeing him for months, and now he'd proposed. She wanted a divorce, right now.

George was angry, sure. Especially at the way she had told him all this, so matter-of-factly, so coldly. But he had come to terms with his wife's adultery weeks before. He'd come to terms with it when he'd poked his penis into his passed out daughter's cunt. After fucking the 18-year-old girl, George had become more relaxed, more content. Sure, his wife was fucking another man. Sure, his daughter was a whore of a slut who defied him at every turn. But at least Amy was his. She was his, and no one could change that. He'd proven this when he'd fucked her, when he'd made her cum in her own bed, when he'd done all this without the girl even being aware.

And that was the best part. He'd fucked his tramp of a daughter and she didn't even know he had. In the days following his fucking her, Amy had been distant, sure, but George had known why: she'd been afraid of getting busted for being out late and for drinking. He never did punish her for that, and the stupid little girl probably had no idea why. And eventually their relationship had returned to the way it had been before.

Of course, he didn't really see her the same way anymore. Now when she was in her PJ's, he envisioned what was underneath them. When she wore her trampy outfits he no longer criticized. He enjoyed looking at his daughter's body, even as he completely lost interest in his wife's. But even though he'd become attracted to his 18-year-old girl, and even though he didn't mind jacking off to the memory of his cock planted deep inside her twat, he had no plans on ever doing anything like that again. He'd proven his point, that she was his. That was enough.

"We're not good together, George," Mary had said at the end of her long, cold explanation. "We both know it. I just... I'm willing to move on. I hope you are, too."

Those were in fact the last words Mary said to him before walking out of the house, a suitcase gripped tightly in each hand. It was infuriating to watch her go, and her explanations why were like meaningless bullshit, but at least he wouldn't have to pay any alimony. She would be marrying her newfound love the second the divorce was final.

"Aren't ya even gonna say goodbye to Amy?" he'd called to her just before she got to the door. The words obviously rattled her, too, but rather than respond, she just left. A cab was waiting for her to take her away, away from him.

"Stupid cunt," George said after she was gone.

When Amy got home from school she tried to bolt directly to her room. Typical teenager, George thought, avoiding her parent at all cost.

"Amy!" he yelled.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, still wearing his overalls and dirty white t-shirt from work. When she entered the room, he allowed his eyes to gaze wantonly up and down her tight little body. She was wearing a loose-fitting green halter-top with thin straps that arched over her slender shoulders. Her breasts seemed to bulge around the garment and were the only place where the top was tight on her. Her belly-button was just barely exposed, and her jeans were tight and light-blue and low riding.

Damn, thought George. She must not be wearing panties or I'd see their waistband. What a slut.

"I gotta tell you something," he said to his slut of a daughter.

She stepped toward him and then, with her eyes to the floor, sat down across the table from him.

He stared intently at her face. She wasn't looking at him. Her hair framed her youthful, oval face. Her expression was one of typical teenage annoyance.

"Your step-mom," he said matter-of-factly, "left."

She looked up at him in surprise. "What?" the girl asked.

"She left. She's not coming back. She found a new man, she's gone."

George was surprised at his girl's sudden tears. Suddenly he realized that though he'd been ready for this, Amy hadn't had this luxury. She probably hadn't imagined that her step-mom could leave.

"Why didn't she say goodbye?" the girl said, her lower lip trembling.

"Look, I know you see her as your mom, but she wasn't your mom," George said quickly. "Mary, well, shit. She never treated anyone right, not you, not even me."

Amy was sobbing into her hands now. She was blubbering something like, "Why did she leave? Why did she leave?"

George didn't know what to do. Fuck, he thought, she's genuinely upset. Forgot the whole thing about Mary being the only mom she's ever known. Shit.

Suddenly he stood up and went to the fridge. His daughter was still bawling when he placed a cold long-neck in front of her.

"Drink that," he said.

The girl stopped crying for a moment. George felt awkward. He wanted her to handle her grief the way he always had, and if she didn't, well, he didn't know what to do. Hug her? Kiss her? Tell her everything is going to be all right? That wasn't possible.

Amy stared at the beer. Her cute young face was stained with tears, and she looked up at him, then back at the bottle. Her expression was enough to break his heart, and he had to remind himself what a nasty little bitch she really was in order to retain his composure.

Finally, and to his great relief, she gripped the frosted bottle and placed its opening to her lips. He cracked open one for himself, too, while his little girl drank greedily at her beer. He sat back down and looked at her.

"She wasn't really my mom," Amy said after her beer was almost finished, "but... you know, why didn't she say goodbye? She was... didn't she love me?"

She was getting ready to cry again. George stood up, got her another beer, and as she began to drink it he said, "She's a bitch, Amy. She never cared about you or me. This guy she's leaving me for, she's going to him because he's got money. She don't give two shits about him, either. Trust me."

The next hour was spent like that: Amy, wearing her tight little outfit and alternately wailing and speaking philosophical while George gave her beer after beer and tried to answer his little girl's questions. By the time she finally had to go to the bathroom the girl had probably drank as much beer as she'd cried tears.

And now George's cock was hard. His wife had left him but his daughter was here, and damn, the memory of her tight pussy around his dick was impossible to forget. And he was getting her drunk, too. Maybe he could get her as drunk as she'd been that night a few weeks before when he'd fucked her passed out body. Boy did he want to! He began to rub himself between his legs just as Amy returned to the kitchen.

She froze when she saw him. George hadn't heard her enter, but he grinned at her expression. She seemed surprised and embarrassed, and she even stepped back as if to go away.

"Wait," he said to her. She stopped moving, and just stared.

He began to unzip his pants. "Get over here," he demanded. Might as well treat her like the slut she was, he reasoned. She was definitely drunk by now, and so was he. A drunk slut like her probably wanted cock more than anything, and he would be happy to oblige.

Her reaction to the sight of his dick wasn't what he'd expected. She was horrified!

"I'm leaving," she blurted. She then spun around and bolted from the kitchen.

George had only a second to think about it but that second made him angry. How dare she look at him like that, like he was some sort of monster? He jumped out of his seat and ran after her.

When he got to the front door it was slamming shut. He gripped the doorknob and yanked the door open, then marched across the porch and jumped over the rocky inlet that separated it from the grass. Amy had nearly made it to the street when he grabbed her, right in the middle of the front lawn.

"NO!" she cried. She was squirming and fighting him.

Why? Because she saw him rub himself a bit? Because he'd taken out his cock in front of her? She had no reason to be so defiant! A slut like her should be used to seeing cock! Wasn't his good enough for her?

George growled into her ear, "BE QUIET!"

He dragged her, literally kicking and screaming, back into the house. When the door shut he finally let her go, but he smacked her hard across the face right after.

"YOU DON'T RUN OUT ON ME YOU STUPID SLUT!" he growled. He saw the fear in her eyes just before he cracked her across the face again. She fell to her knees and whimpered.

He was breathing heavily. She looked so innocent, so much the victim. But he knew better. He'd just fed her three or four beers, and she'd drunk them like a pro. She knew how to drink because she knew how to party, and if she knew how to party she knew how to fuck. She was a slut of a whore, just like her step-mom, just like her real mom, actually.

Suddenly George grabbed the crumpled up, whimpering girl, and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. She squirmed futilely against him the entire way. When he got to his bed, he sat down abruptly and forced her young body across his lap.

"Why do you have to defy me all the time?" he demanded, just before his open hand smacked across her denim-covered ass. "Why do ya gotta be such a bad girl? Things aren't hard enough for me, you gotta make them worse? Huh?"

She shrieked and cried, but he just kept on spanking her. God, did it feel good! Every smack of his hand against her butt was like an orgasm, a great release. It'd been way too long since he'd spanked this little bitch, and boy did she need it. She'd deserved a good spanking for a long, long time. Suddenly, though, George wanted to spank her properly. Fuck the pants, he though as he stared at her round little ass. Why did she deserve even that layer of protection?

George gripped his daughter's red hair in his beefy hand and yanked her small, fragile frame off from his lap, tossing her body to the side. She shrieked at the sensation. Good, George thought. While she whimpered and moaned and blubbered he cursed into her young face as his free hand unbuckled, unzipped, and ultimately pulled down her pants.

"You need a bare-ass spanking you dirty slut, you stupid whore," he grumbled as he pushed her helpless body across his lap again once her pants were off. "You think your fucking whore of a step-mom leaves me, you can take advantage of me? You can treat me like shit because you feel sad? No sympathy bitch, no sympathy from me you stupid cunt..."

He cracked his hand down upon her now bare ass, and felt his cock jolt at the moment of impact. It jumped up inside his jeans and pressed against her soft belly.

"You're a stupid fucking slut," he declared whilst she wailed, "a stupid whore, a fucking bitch!" He was yelling these things for his own benefit. It felt good to yell at her while he hurt her-it reminded him he was in control.

His hand clapped down onto her round, now reddened, ass. She had quit squirming to get free. Now she was only squirming from the pain.

George spanked her a few more times.

"Your step-mom is gone," he finally panted after a dozen or so blows. "Just you and me now. And I ain't gonna take any defiance anymore. You got that? NONE!"

He had let go of her, but the young girl was still lying across his lap. His cock was like a diamond, remorselessly hard, and poking up into her belly. Did she realize this? Did she care? Or was the idea of him getting hard turning her one (could she be that much of a slut)?

"Fuck you."

Her words sent a streak of renewed anger up George's spine. Without thinking he pushed her, sending her limp frame to the floor with a thud. A moment later he was beating her ass with his hand once again.

The things he screamed now no longer mattered. As he spanked her ass he realized he had to fuck her. That would teach her. Like the night she'd come home drunk, and he'd had to teach her a lesson: she'd been unconscious, but boy had he taught her a lesson. Right now she was awake, probably a little drunk, and behaving like a defiant, bitchy little whore. He had to teach her a lesson. He wanted to.

So while he pressed her youthful face into the floor with one hand, he took out his cock and pressed it against her ass cheeks with the other. Moments later he had his dick planted inside her pussy. It was a dry entry, and she struggled against it, but George just saw this as a challenge. His little girl, half-naked and with a reddened ass and trying to squirm away from his cock...

"This is what fucking cunts like you deserve!" he cried.

She whimpered profusely while he fucked her doggy-style. He gripped his powerful hands around her waist and slid them up her body, under her shirt, until he could play with her tits. God, what great tits. They felt so good in his hands, especially while his cock was deep inside of her.

She moaned and cried and begged for a while, but it wasn't long before she got wet and began to shiver with each thrust he made. George could feel the quivering of her cunt deep inside her pussy, and he smiled and grunted triumphantly at the sensation. He'd wanted to punish her, but now he loved that she was enjoying that punishment. With a groan of satisfaction he erupted inside her young little cunt, and after he finished cumming inside her twat he spanked her now swelling ass a few more times. It was perfect.

George's elation quickly faded, however. As he stood up breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath, the sight of his 18-year-old daughter crumpled up in tears on the floor with her ass reddened and with his semen leaking out from her pussy, his drunken anger turned to drunken remorse. He didn't feel guilty about punishing her. No, the brat had definitely deserved it. His guilt stemmed from the sudden realization that, once again, he'd fucked her. He, her own father, had just fucked her, even after swearing to himself that it had been a one-time thing.

But she'd tried to leave him. On the day his wife had left him! It had just become a two-time thing, then. So what?

"Don't ever try to leave me again, you little brat. You don't get to leave me. You're mine," he breathed heavily at the shriveled up, whimpering girl. Finally he grabbed her and carried her to her room, dumped her in her bed, then went downstairs to have a few more beers. The beers helped: by the time he was drunk enough to pass out the guilt had dulled considerably.