Daughter Training 5: A Woman’s Destiny

Story Excerpt

Erin knelt with her knees sunk into the faux-marble tile, arms folded at the small of her back, her posture that of a servant in a home with no room for servants, her attention fastened upward to the eyes of her father. She barely dared to blink. The air in the kitchen was humid with the dull stink of old cigarettes and a pan left to “soak” in the sink, but it was the heat of father, Ben’s, cock, bristling against her tongue, that made Erin’s pulse tap at her temples like a warning she was helpless to heed.

She worked his shaft slow, bobbing deep, fighting the reflex that made her throat want to snap shut. He liked it like this, the slow approach, the delayed gratification. He’d said as much, but he was silent now except for the hush of breath and the faint tremor in his hands where they gripped the laminate counter behind him. Each time Erin buried him all the way, her nose mashed into the tangle of his pubes, the sourness of his skin burning her sinuses, she forced herself to look up, eyelids peeled back, gaze unbroken, as if maintaining a connection to him while nursing from his cock.

Ben’s mouth twisted into a feral smile. “Fuck, that’s it,” he hissed, the words shaky, voice dropped into a private register reserved for these moments, half command, half awe. “Look at you. Doing what you were made to do. Look at me, princess.”

She’d forgotten how not to look. She wanted to see the way his eyes would glaze and then sharpen just before he lost control. She had learned to breathe through her nose, to pace her body’s panic at being full of him, to endure the instinct to cough or retch when she took him down to the root. That was what her father wanted. Obedience, endurance, humiliation. Her cheeks went hot, then numb, her jaw burning with the ache of being forced open so wide for so long. The pain was perfect. It made her feel alive, feel worth something as a person, as a daughter.