This story contains dubious consent, dominance, and rough sex between father and daughter. If none of this appeals to you, please back up and find a story that does.
Ian unbuckled himself as he burst through his front door. Annoyance and fury twisted through his body and he could barely contain the tension clawing at the base of his skull. He released his thick, rigid cock and it bobbed as he threw his keys and briefcase down with force. He tore off his coat and then his suit jacket, but stop abruptly when he saw that the hallway was empty.
What the fuck?
"Hannah!" His roar tore through the house. He kicked his shoes off as his fist closed around his cock.
The house was silent for another moment more and then the sound of shuffling came from the end of the corridor.
His daughter appeared, disheveled and wide-eyed. "I'm sorry, Daddy." Her voice was breathy and quiet. "I accidentally--"
"Get here now," he bellowed, pointing in front of him.
Hannah looked like she'd been sleeping, her clothes wrinkled and her eyes sleepy, but he didn't fucking care. He pulled on his hard cock as she dropped to her knees in front of him and opened her mouth.
Grabbing the back of her head, he pushed himself into her warm wetness. She closed around him, taking him deep into the tight squeeze of her throat in one go, the feel of her drawing a deep groan from his chest. Instantly, the heaviness in his skull lightened. He himself back and forth between her lips, keeping himself in the back of her mouth as his pleasure built.
Her fingers dug into his thighs, signaling that he needed to pull back, but he waited a few moments longer, savoring the feeling of her struggle. On very rare occasions, punishing his daughter was necessary, especially when she did something this inconsiderate and stupid. Her fingers dug harder and he pulled back and let her breathe. As soon as her airway was available to her again, her tongue darted out and snaked up the underside of his veined length. Her watery blue eyes gazed up at him, her brows furrowed in an adorable apologetic look. She was clearly trying to make it up to him.
Ian let her try. He surged back to depths of her throat and fucked it in the long smooth strides that she was used to, but stayed there longer than usual. Hannah handled it well, using her tongue and the clench of her swallowing throat to heighten his pleasure, and soon his grunts and groans filled the whole house. The tenseness that had almost overwhelmed him had disappeared and in its place a delicious roil of pleasure seized his whole body. Her fingers slid up and gently stroked his balls, sending an extra tingling thrill through him.
He didn't know how, but his daughter could always tell when he was ready to rut. Her hands brushed around to hold the back of his thighs and she inched closer on her knees, sinking down on him until her nose pressed against his wiry hair. Her gullet squeezed him so good from every angle, Ian moaned, pleasure rocking through him. He grabbed her head with both hands and began to fuck her face.
Tears and snot and saliva erupted on his daughter's face, smearing all over her as he worked in and out. The fluids covered his cock and dripped down between them, wild and nasty and messy, but the sensation was incredible.
Ian's orgasm slammed into him like a eighteen-wheeler, uncontrollable, intense, and crushing. He roared, the sound hoarse and abrupt like a wild animal, and his mind went blank. Buttocks clenched, he kept his hips buried in the deepest reach of his daughter's tight throat as cum pulsed through his cock. Incredible.
Eventually, his own rough panting was the first thing he could make sense of as his senses came back. He looked down to see his hands wrapped around the back of his daughter's head, holding her down on his twitching cock. Tears streamed from the eyes staring back up at him, those brows still furrowed, but there was no urgency in her fingers this time, like she would happily suffocate on his cock.
He released her slowly, his cock dragging along her tongue and flopping out of her mouth, spent, slimy, dripping, and still twitching.
Hannah kept her eyes on him, trying to hold in her coughing as she sucked in air until her breathing regulated. She refrained from wiping her mouth, letting all the mess on her face drip down and off her chin.
Ian kept hold of her hair and leaned down, his voice a vicious rumble. "When I come home from work, where the fuck are you supposed to be, Hannah?"
Hannah's eyes widened again. "Right here, Daddy. On my knees, waiting for you."
"Why?"
Hannah blinked. "To... to help you with your stress. You have a difficult job. I... I'm supposed help you with my mouth. We agreed."
"Right. And what exactly did we agree?"
She lowered her eyes this time. "That I would be here every day when you come through the door."
Ian couldn't help the growl that came from his mouth. "Then why the fuck weren't you waiting? Do you know what kind of day I had?"
Hannah swallowed, a whimper escaping her. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I finished making dinner early and felt a little sleepy so I lay down for only a minute and-- "
"Unacceptable! Nothing is more important than you being here waiting with your mouth open, do you understand? Do you know the kind of tension that almost got hold of me? That would've been your fucking fault."
Hannah nodded, her messy face glum. "I'm sorry, Daddy. It won't happen again."
"Good." Ian glared at her for another minute and then released her. He stepped out of his pants and gestured to the rest of his clothes, his belongings and the glob of slimy mess on the floor. "Clean all this up before dinner." He didn't wait for a response. Turning on his heel he strode away to his bedroom.
As he showered, Ian couldn't help shaking his head with disappointment in his daughter, especially considering how far she had come. Almost a year ago, Hannah had been wild, coming in all hours of the morning, dressing like a common slut, and doing nothing around the house. He had tried not to be too hard on her because when her mother died, he'd been away. His job had taken him all over the world and he didn't find out that her mother had been in a car accident until nearly a week after it happened.
His guilt about it still hadn't fled. They'd been a close-knit family; dinners together every evening he was home, discussing each other's days, and taking regular family trips together. Things had gotten monotonous between him and Fiona, Hannah's mom. They rarely had exciting sex anymore and were more like roommates who argued every now and then, than lovers. But it'd still been a decent, comfortable life that he couldn't complain about. Fiona hadn't deserved for her husband to be absent and not contactable at the one time she needed him, and Hannah hadn't deserved to deal with her mom being in hospital and then passing away on her own.
But it had happened. He couldn't change it.
After her death, he realized he couldn't raise a teenage daughter and be away so often. Hannah was too innocent. Most 17-year-olds were somewhat independent, but Hannah hardly behaved like a typical teenager. She never partied, only had two friends, and was completely clueless about boys. She needed protecting. If he wasn't careful, he would end up with a wild child who would shame the family name and most of all, shame her mother. He couldn't let that happen. He needed to keep an eye on her. So he got another job in finance, one that would let him stay in the city without all the travel. He didn't love it--in fact it was a more difficult job and not particularly suited to his talents, but Hannah would grow up soon and he then he'd have the freedom to move into something better.
But his fears started to come true. As soon as Hannah turned eighteen and finished school, she was like a different person. Instead of looking for work or going to art college like she'd talked about, she slouched around the house, went out in skimpy clothes that showed all kinds of skin, and fell in with terrible group of young people rumored to be into theft and drugs. He worried she was going to be badly influenced. The worst thing would be if she ended up a pregnant addict. He searched her room constantly, looking for any signs but he never found any, not even condoms, but that didn't make him feel any better.
He'd tried to question what she was doing with these friends that kept her out for hours but she never had any answers for him. Then he insisted that she stay away from them, but she just shrugged and continued to do what she was doing. He grounded her, even locked her in her room once, but within a few days of being freed she was back doing the same thing. Ian couldn't keep her locked up forever, not when he worked for such long hours.
Worry festered in him whenever she was out of house, turning his anxiety deadly. His stress levels went through the roof, and his health began to deteriorate. Terrible tension headaches were constant. He developed insomnia and couldn't switch off to relax. His hair started to thin and he was constantly fighting illness. It wasn't fucking natural. Not for a man who worked out, who'd always been strong and healthy. His doctor didn't have any solutions apart from reducing stress, and medicine didn't have any affect. In truth, he should've been able to relieve his stress in the bedroom He suspected a tight, wet pussy would have worked wondered, but he couldn't even date with Hannah acting up. He bought a woman back to the house once and Hannah behaved atrociously--slamming doors, playing music way too loud, and walking around the house practically naked. It'd been embarrassing--like he was a bad father. Once the stress began to affect his job, he knew he had to do something to bring her back in line. But he didn't know what.
One night, he woke up to find Hannah had sneaked a boy into her room--some fucking spiky-haired deadbeat with bloodshot eyes who looked like he didn't even know his asshole from his nostrils. Ian finally lost it. He violently threw the guy out and stormed back to Hannah, unleashing a furious rant off his chest.
He'd expected her to argue, to scream and sulk but she was silent and meek, barely looking him in the eye.
He had returned to his own room, but there was no way he could even try to sleep. He spent the next few hours pacing trying to figure out how to get his sweet daughter back. And then it dawned on him. She had brought that boy back to the house to fuck him. In his fucking house!
Her mother had been dead for a year but he hadn't even been able to focus on getting pussy for himself because Hannah's behavior was literally making him ill and turning him grey. Yet she wanted to bring some dead-eyed druggie into his house and open her mouth or her legs for him?
The fury that embraced him was unlike any other. He had crossed the hallway and burst into her room.
Hannah had been in bed, but she shot up when he came in, her eyes wide. He had pulled her from the bed, revealing a satin lingerie set.
