Daughter Training 3: A Woman’s Role

Story Excerpt

He pressed the tip against her entrance. “Ready?” he asked.
She could only nod.

He pushed in, slow but relentless, splitting her open inch by inch until he was balls-deep inside her. Emilee clung to the edge of the couch, nails digging into the fabric, sweat slick on her forehead. He started fucking her in deep, measured strokes, filling her completely, making her feel at once violated and whole.

“This is your job now,” Tom said, voice hoarse. “You’re going to get pregnant. You’re going to make me proud.”

And for a moment, Emilee wanted to believe him, that this was her calling, her secret ticket out of the stasis of generic suburban girlhood and into something sharp, wild, irreversibly adult. She stared at the ceiling, at the blank white above, at the faint brown water stain shaped uncannily like a heart. She hated that she noticed things like that, small, stupid details, as her father’s cock hit something deep and new inside her.

It should have been horrifying. Maybe it was. But her mind crackled with static, the kind that comes on just before a thunderstorm when the air is heavy and the world feels charged and ready to break. Every thrust was a shattering of an old rule, an unspoken law, and Emilee rode the tremors with a sick pride. She was the only one. No other girl she knew had ever done this, would ever do this, would ever fuck their father, and the thought made her clench around him, made her scream. She could be special. She could be unique. She could have a baby with her daddy.

She moaned, louder, the words making her pussy clench around him. He was right. This was her role. She was a vessel, a baby machine, and she was good at it.
He sped up, grunting, his hands crushing her hips. “Say it,” he ordered. “Say you want to be a mother.”