Daddy's Little Psychopath Ch. 08

It was at that moment that I had a quick realization—my back ache was completely gone!

She noticed my surprise. "I applied the oil on your back, but also provided a slight massage. I noticed that you seemed tense right along . . . here."

She touched the spot where my ache had been, and it felt soooooo goooood. I felt a charge go through my body, forcing me to sit up and yelp.

"S-Stop," I protested feebly, trying to block out the pleasure. "I don't . . . want your help."

"Maybe not, but I believe you need it," she said, squirting another blotch of oil on her hand. "Please turn over."

I did as she asked. But why? I hated this girl. She'd taken David from me, just like Ronnie had. No, in a way, even worse. She was so much more beautiful than me, so much younger than me! She was acting so generous, and so sweet. And she treated me like a queen.

She sickened me.

And yet, all of that hatred and tension melted off when she touched me. When her hands fell atop my breasts, she massaged them gently, soothingly. My breasts flowed in her hands like they belonged there. It wasn't like anything I'd felt before . . . David had always been a bit rough with my breasts . . . even before he became the lust-driven animal he was now. Of course, I liked that, but this was such a welcome change of pace. I'd never felt such smooth, delicate hands on them before.

She saw my approval and smiled. "Please do not worry. I am very good at this."

"Just . . . just finish up and go," I said, turning my head away from her. She continued to oil up my entire body, her gentle hands slowly rubbing over every inch of me. Over my stomach, my thighs, my legs.

When she was finally done, she stood and bowed slightly. "Please let me know if you need anything else, First Wife."

I didn't correct her again. I didn't say anything to her. I just watched her leave, and eventually, I drifted back to sleep, my entire body feeling younger than it had in years.

******

--RHONDA—

"I want to keep her, Ronnie," he told me.

For a moment, I just sat there, nibbling my pen—just staring at him. If only he knew how badly, right at that moment, I wanted to throttle him. Here I was, fighting my hardest to protect our home from the other two dumb bitches he'd picked to live here, and he was already demanding to bring in a third one?

Why couldn't Daddy just understand that his taste in women was terrible? He was the one who'd brought both The Bitch and The Whore to our home, and look where that'd gotten us. The only reason he even had a woman that loved him as much as I did at all was because I'd ignored his initial protests. I had been forced to rape him because I knew we were meant to be. Only I knew what was best for him.

My mind was a torrent of frustration and anger, but I kept my sweetest smile and my eyes softly glistened as I giggled: "Sorry, Daddy. That one's not available."

His shock was expected. This was, after all, the first time I'd ever denied him. A moment I knew would be inevitable one day. It almost broke my heart, to see that look of disappointment in his eyes. Daddy had been so good lately—so obedient. He didn't deserve this, but I had to do it for his sake. He was like a child. He didn't know better. His mind was so consumed with fucking that he just couldn't help himself anymore. I had to protect him from himself.

"What . . . what do you mean Fa'alele's not available, Ronnie? She's . . . she's already pregnant with my baby and—"

"She's already told me that she doesn't want to continue after she's delivered the baby, Daddy." It was a blatant lie, but one Daddy had no chance of verifying. The Samoan bitch didn't speak a word of English except "Yes!" and "Fuck me!", so it wasn't like he could ask her directly. Of course, I didn't speak Samoan myself, so it was impossible for that conversation to have taken place at all, but Daddy didn't know that, either.

But Daddy was so crushed. The look of disappointment might've made me sad if it weren't so hot. Seeing Daddy fall for my little ruses always made me horny. It reminded me how much I owned him—how well I had trained his obedience.

I was so turned on that I decided to play with him a little more. I opened my robe, exposing my naked body—including my wide, pregnant belly—and reached down so that Daddy could watch as I slowly slipped a finger into my pussy.

"So you like her, then, Daddy?" I asked him.

He licked his lips as he watched me slowly fuck myself. "Yes . . . she's incredibly hot, Ronnie."

"What do you like about her, Daddy?" I reached down and squeezed my breast, pointing my nipple up so that I could suckle it myself as Daddy watched.

"Her body . . . it's so curvaceous and soft. She's got a bit of body fat, but . . . it all goes to the right places. She's, like . . . the perfect breeding material, Ronnie."

I smiled. "Oh, is that all? You don't have any feelings for her, Daddy?"

"Shit, no," he said. "I just want to that dam perfect body to make more babies, Ronnie. That's all. I want to make babies in her, because that's all she's good for."

I laughed at that. "If that's all you want, Daddy, why settle for the same plain old bitch every time? I can find others just like her, Daddy. Same breasts, same curves, same ass . . . same everything. I can find as many of them as you want, and you can play with them however you want."

He swallowed. "R-Really . . .? Exactly like her?"

"Uh-huh," I moaned. "Even better in fact, now that I know your 'type'."

"You . . . you're amazing, Ronnie. I love you, so much."

I purred at that, and my eyes fell upon the cock stiffening in his pants. I rubbed my hands on my stomach, where our newest baby was growing. Daddy's baby. He understood my need right away, and pulled his pants down.

"Bend over, Ronnie," he commanded me. "Right now."

I loved this forceful side of him. I loved how much Daddy craved my pussy now. But I decided to tease him a little.

"What are you going to do to me, Daddy?" I asked, as I turned around and hiked my robe over my rear.

"Shut up, Slut," he growled, smacking my ass with his backhand, making the supple flesh dance to his whims. I moaned and writhed as I bent myself over on our bed . . . on the bed Daddy and I shared . . . where we bred our happy family now.

"Are you gonna fuck me, Daddy? Are you gonna fuck your little girl? I've been so good . . ."

"I know you have, baby," he said, with a hand rubbing the tender spot of my ass that he'd just smacked. He squeezed my stinging flesh, only intensifying my pleasure. "You're carrying Daddy's baby, like a good girl. You're bringing Daddy healthy sluts, like a good girl."

"Will you love me as long as I carry your babies, Daddy?"

He began gently fingering my pussy, increasing my wetness by the second. "Of course, honey. As long as Daddy keep knocking you up, he'll always love you."

"Do you promise, Daddy?"

"I do, sweetie. Daddy promises. Spread your legs, baby."

I pushed my legs further apart to give Daddy access. I was breathing so heavily now, so greatly anticipating having his cock lengthy manhood inside me.

"Breed me, Daddy. Breed me right now. Cum in me, and breed your daughter like we both want."

I was already pregnant, but Daddy loved it when I begged him like that. Just because I was pregnant didn't mean my pussy didn't belong to him. It didn't mean that he couldn't mount me, cum in me, and breed me like his bitch.

Daddy popped inside me suddenly, going in the whole length all at once. He began fucking me at his full strength immediately, never letting me even catch my breath. I was screaming and moaning, sweat beading over my skin. Daddy reached down and pulled my arms back, holding them like reins as he fucked me like a bucking bronco.

"Yes! Yes! Like that! D-Don't stop! Daddy! Fuck me until you breed me! Until you breed my pussy!"

Daddy let loose a confirming growl, and picked up speed without sacrificing power. My entire body was jerking back and forth, my tits bouncing underneath wildly.

He kept it up until we were both ready to cum, and then he finally did it—letting lose a torrent of baby-making cum in me.

******

--KATY—

I held Hussein in my arms, cradling him as though I'd never let him go. He cooed in my arms, and then laughed, as if he felt the same. That made me smile, and I pushed his little head to my breast.

Hussein is my son. My first, but definitely not my last, since I'm pregnant already with my second, thanks to David. His beautiful face is the reason why I had to come back here. As much as I love David—and I do—Hussein is my baby. I would do anything for him, like a proper mother. Everything that is good of me and David is in him.

But he wasn't the only one. In the months since I'd returned, I came to feel the same of all of the children. All thirteen of David's children. Strangely, all sons. And all named after American Presidents. Wiliam. Henry. Harrison. Warren. Cleveland. Clinton. Richard. Roosevelt. Lincoln. Jackson. Garfield. I even heard that Eileen has two nephews named Theodore and Rutherford.

Odd naming themes aside, they're all beautiful to me, and their faces all reminded me of David. Most of them also looked like Eileen or Rhonda, but some are from mothers I'd barely met. I didn't mind David being with, or impregnating the other women, but I wondered how he would have managed if I'd not returned. Or, more accurately, how Rhonda would have.

It didn't matter now, though. I was back for good—no matter what Rhonda thought. I had insurance. If anything happened to me, I had friends who would make her life a living nightmare. She thought herself untouchable, but even the tightest web can unravel if you knew what string to pull. And her string was her children. Unlike me, Rhonda's children were all incestuous and illegal. Merely by existing, they gave me an advantage over her.

But I hated thinking of the pure darlings that way. It wasn't their fault. Their mother was a monster. It wasn't fair for them to just be pawns in this stupid game. But Rhonda had forced it to be this way.

Usually, she saw to her own children herself—Rhonda didn't like letting the other women be near them, but eventually, she had no choice. She was too busy doing . . . whatever she does with her time, so she had no choice but to let me watch over them most of the day. Only William was even old enough for pre-school, so the others relied on me to look over and teach them. One of my proudest moments was the day I finally helped Warren become potty trained.

I told myself that these children were worth anything Rhonda tried to do to me. That no matter what, everything was bearable as long as I could hold my son.

And eventually, that came back to haunt me.

One day, we found out that there a massive snowstorm heading into our area. The news advised everyone to remain indoors, and road and rescue services remained on standby. This was predicted to be one of the worst storms in almost a decade. And since we lived in an isolated spot in the hills, things were likely to be especially bad for us.

But it was much, much worse than I ever expected.

The day of the storm, Hussein became seriously ill. His skin paled, and small blemishes appeared on his tiny body. He coughed and cried all night, and their breathing seemed forced and ragged.

My son was dying.

With the snowstorm, there was no way to get help. As was our luck, the storm even downed telephone lines, making it possible to even call for the rescue that had been promised by the state patrol.

I was at a loss as to what to do. More and more, I began to panic

"W-What's happening to him!? Please, do something, David!"

But David was as lost as I was. He stared at our son with wide eyes and shook his head.

Then, he began muttering.

"What did I do wrong . . .?"

I stared at him confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"I've done everything she asked us to do. I never disobeyed her . . . I gave her what she wanted . . ."

"What are you talking about?!" I screamed at him. But then, it hit me. "R-Rhonda!? You think Rhonda's behind this!??"

He only swallowed.

"David! Are you saying she's hurting our son?!"

He only looked at me. "I'm sorry. I must have made her angry—"

I stormed away, immediately, heading to Rhonda's little "hideaway". I marched directly to the locked steel door that led into her private wing of the house and banged against it until my fist hurt.

"RHONDA!! RHONDA, I know you can hear me! Open this door NOW, you hear me!? OPEN IT!"

The red light next to the door turned green, and I pulled it open.

I hurried into the area that the others called Rhonda's "Control Room". My head was still racing, my pulse quickened, and sweat beaded all over my body. If I felt any traces of fear for walking into the den of my enemy, it was almost nothing compared to the fear for my son.

Was Rhonda truly behind this?! I'd kill her—I would strangle her to death if it were so!

After turning through several room, including passing a large library, and a lavish bedroom, I found a second security door. The light on this one was green as well, so I pulled it open and descended the dark staircase. I prayed for Allah to give me strength as I descended into what felt like the underworld.

"Ah, there you are. Please, come in."

There Rhonda sat, her hands folded on her lap, and a smug, uncaring smile focused upon me. Behind her was a ton of what seemed like expensive computer equipment. She wore an expensive silken robe that didn't even bother to cover any of her body. Rhonda's physique was feminine perfection, and the way she dressed and sat made it clear that she wanted this known. Her full breasts and dark nipples poked out from the edges of the robe, and her long, curvy legs folded on top of each other.

My eyes especially lingered on the pair of purple heeled slippers that adorned both of her feet. All in all, I hated to admit it, but the girl was an exquisite beauty. But there was so much evil hidden behind that façade.

Rhonda's smile persisted as she waited for me to finish looking her over. "Welcome to my Control Room. I believe this is the first time we've had a chance to talk face-to-face."

"I don't care about that," I shouted. "I'm here about my son! Are you behind it!? Answer me!!"

Rhonda only chuckled. My hand twitched, and my nails were begging to ruin that perfect face of hers. "I said ANSWER ME!"

"We'll never get anywhere shouting," she said with cold indifference. "I tell you what . . ." She unfolded her legs, slowly and deliberately, and leaned back in her chair with one stretched out to me. "I could use a sensual leg rub, like you gave my mother the other day. It seems you have a fantastic talent for that, so why don't you be a dear and do that for me so we can talk calmly?"

I spat. The wad of foaming saliva hit squarely upon Rhonda's calf. She only looked down quizzically, and then back up toward me.

"I see you want to make this difficult." Then, with malevolence, she added, "Good. This will make it so much more fun when I break you." Her evil grin widened. "Or your ugly, fetid baby. Whichever 'breaks' first."

My rage was building to unbearable levels. I wanted to kill this woman. Allah help me, I wanted to. But I forced myself to stay calm. To not act rashly. For Hussein's sake.

"What do you want from me?" I demanded.

"Ooooh. Finally starting to behave yourself a little, hm, Princess?" She chuckled triumphantly. "As you've no doubt just realized, in this house, I hold all of the power. Everything here is mine. My father. The bitch. Your pretty little ass. And all of your ugly children. I own you all. Your precious son wouldn't even be alive today if I hadn't brought you here, so it's only fair that his life continue to depend on me, don't you think?"

"You bitch . . .!" My voice hissed with hatred.

She smiled at me again. Her eyes once again fell to her outstretched leg. "Come on, now. Be a good girl."

Swallowing my pride, I dropped to my knees and reached out to Rhonda's leg. But then, she stopped me.

"No, no. Clean up your spit, first. With your tongue, dear."

I flashed her another murderous glare, but I did what I was told. A long shimmering trail of my saliva had run down Rhonda's leg, following the sleek contour, all the way up to her thigh. Slowly, and gently, I stretched my tongue to her legs and licked along the same path of my spit.

Rhonda moaned, her eyes watching me like a hawk stalking a fat mouse. She licked her wet lips, and her left hand disappeared into her robe, dipping where her pussy would be. Her mouth quivered, and her breathing became faster.

My body reacted against my will. My skin prickled, and my heart beat faster. I could feel my own moistness growing underneath, dampening my panties. I didn't enjoy a moment of this, I tried to think, but my body rejected that message. It was too used to submission—to being used and treated as David's plaything. It was readying itself without my complete consent.

When I'd finally licked away every trace of my own spit, I still had the salty-sweet taste of Rhonda's flesh in my mouth. I did as she had originally asked and began to massage her leg. Rhonda was still fingering herself to the cusp of orgasm, but she talked to me all the same.

"Mmmm. That's a good little whore." Her tone made it clear that what she was truly getting off on was my subjugation, not necessarily my touch. "So then . . . I think it's time we had our chat.

"For too long, you've been prancing around this house as if you're queen. As if you've won and 'defeated' me. Like you're some untouchable fucking pixie. You know who I am, and you know what I do and where my money comes from, so I guess that makes you think you control me, huh?

She slapped me, so hard that I saw stars. "Guess again, bitch."

As I reeled back and put a had to my ringing cheek, Rhonda sat back and presented me with the other leg.

"Now, do the same to this. Spit and all."

I spat on her other leg as well, but with nowhere near the same satisfaction as the first time. I pressed my tongue and lips to her leg, and began to lick as she had commanded.

Rhonda shivered, and I think she came right at that moment. A charge went to my pussy, and I almost did the same.

My God . . . what was this strange and evil power this woman had?!

"Anyway, as I was saying," she continued, "I want to get the house rules known. Here, I am Queen. Your fancy titles and money don't mean anything to me. The moment you brought yourself here, you became just another jester in my castle. Just a pretty piece of meat for me to use as I want. Is that clear?"

I stopped to swallow before I answered. The taste of Rhonda's flesh went down my throat and into my body. "Yes . . ."

She patted my head. "Good girl. You're learning much faster than The Bitch did.

"But, you seem to be under the misunderstanding that you are Daddy's toy. But you are not—you're mine. You aren't Daddy's woman. You're not even worthy of Daddy. Only by making me happy will he have anything to do with you. You got that?"

Reluctantly, I nodded.

"Don't underestimate me, you fucking simpleton. I'm smarter, tougher, and far more powerful than you. I made every dime I own myself, not like some spoiled fucking princess born in money like you and The Bitch. I earned everything I have, including Daddy. I will NOT allow your little prissy, self-righteous ass to come in and take it from me! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Again, I nodded, finishing my licking and going into the leg massage. My mind was still only on Hussein. I reminded myself that he was the reason I was there. That for him, I would endure everything she put me through.