Dad's Kinky New Wife

He had the entire weekend to grant her every wish.

***

Divested of Restraint

Carol lay limp when her restraints were loosened. She made no attempt to jump from the bed and run screaming. She was dazed and trying to come to terms with her ordeal.

At first, she was confused when her dad manhandled and flipped her onto her stomach. It became clear that he was preparing her for some sordid act of sexual deviancy. She was simply too a weary to persuade him otherwise.

There was a numbness at the thought that her degradation hadn't yet begun. That very thought should have motivated a response to run hysterical from the room. Instead, she felt complacent and dreamy. It was obvious the event that spurred her to thrust her pussy against her dad's fingers left an undeniable mark.

For a brief moment, she wanted to laugh. How could her father call what he did to her just a warm-up? My god, she thought, no wonder mom loves him so much.

Never in her life had she experienced that type of orgasm. Even when masturbating, she never came close to achieving a climax so uniquely defined as the one she just had. She had no words to describe it.

Her heart skipped a beat when a heavy leather collar was fastened securely around her neck. The jingling of a small-linked chain was an indication that her window for escape had closed.

She felt stupid for not seizing the opportunity to save herself. He had given her a moment of freedom and she chose not to act. Although her limbs were now free, he had simply shifted the manner in which she was restrained.

Unsure what to do next, she lay immobile on her stomach. She didn't flinch when he playfully wiggled a teasing finger into her sex. She allowed him to maneuver her arms and legs and caress her in a manner meant for lovers.

She was motionless and had no urge to respond to his loving embrace and tender kisses. His touch did stimulate arousal, but knowing the man was her father left her muddled and inactive. No matter how much she tried, that fact was a barrier. She simply didn't know how to respond.

After a period of time, it became obvious that he was frustrated. The manner in which he thrust himself from the bed and paced was reminiscent to what Paul did on their wedding night.

He calmly said, "What's wrong? I gave you time to rest. You're a limp noodle. You need to at least react to my affection to keep the motor running. Now my dick is as floppy as you are. I admit, I'm a little annoyed. How can you pleasure me if you just lay there?"

Unlike Paul's angry retort that night, her father's words were composed. His remarks wounded her more than Paul's rant ever could. Her tears dampened the leather that shielded her sight.

To have two men say almost the same thing within the same week made her question whether her disastrous honeymoon was her fault the entire time. Was she a frigid bitch incapable of pleasuring men? Did her puritanical values inhibit her from enjoying and experiencing what sex had to offer?

She wasn't naïve to sex, but she admitted to being inexperienced. There was now clarity to that hidden truth. She had lied to Paul that night. Her refusal to suck his dick wasn't because she found it distasteful; it was because she felt inadequate to the task.

A sudden flip of a buckled release caused the binding of her gag to slack. Her thoughts instantly altered to those of distress.

He said, "Perhaps it's time we check off the items on your list. You seem to react to kink more than a gentle caress. Honestly, I hope this exploration into the unusual isn't the only way you're able to get off from now on. I find it more work than simple fucking."

She bit down on the plastic wedge.

"Martha, I'm only removing your ball-gag. Your acting like you don't want me to remove it. Jesus, I pleasured you, it's time you return the favor. I held off long enough."

The thought of pleasuring him with her mouth wasn't the reason behind her discomposure. Her voice was indeed distinct from her mothers.

She was quite aware that both of them had been deceived by Paul. Her husband had orchestrated this despicable series of degradations. His reasons were unknown. Perhaps a punishment for her inadequacies as his new wife. Regardless, her father was innocent. He had been played into believing she was his wife.

The revelation at finding out that she was his daughter, especially after what he had just done to her would be devastating. It might even kill him. Even the depraved act of him eating her out and finger-fucking her to orgasm didn't make her love for him any less.

There were indeed various consequences and possible scenarios that could evolve out of finding out the truth. Her dad would more than likely murder Paul in the literal sense. She would lose the two men in life that she loved most dearly. Yes, there would indeed be repercussions, but those weren't her father's burden to carry.

Then there was her mother. Where was she? Why hadn't she appeared and put a stop to this? Most assuredly, she would've been home by now. Those questions gave rise to great worry.

With a plop of the ball from her mouth, she resigned herself to play her father's kinky wife. There was simply no choice.

***

Open For Papa

With his hand framing her bottom jaw, he said, "Sit back on your heels and do everything as instructed. It's time you played my voracious whore."

She sat on her hunches, her mouth closed and frowning.

Her father had called her his whore. If he knew she was his daughter, he would see just how twisted that statement was. His descriptive role set her on edge. It defined the specific nature of her function.

The very idea that she was attempting to masquerade as her mother and participate was crazy. She felt trapped by her action to deceive him. It was intended to save him. In effect, she was being forced to willingly take part in this abhorrent nightmare.

She retained her blindfold. His earlier attempt to remove it caused her to panic. She was virulent in her action to shove his hands away. It was the one object that disguised the truth.

Paul was right about there being a difference between her and her mom. Other than their voices, her youthful eyes and bluish orbs were a clear give away of her identity. The shock might induce a heart attack. She was relieved when he relented. More than likely, he believed her demand was part of this sick sex game.

There were also other physical characteristics that should have warned him that something was amiss. Her mom had stretch marks and was slightly pudgy in the middle. Internally women's innards shift with child birth and with age. The absence of these defining marks should raise a flag. She hypothesized that the likelihood that the woman before him was his daughter was so improbable that he overlooked those obvious abnormalities. Perhaps his arousal combined with that impossibility blinded him to the reality of the female now on her knees and lip level with his cock.

There's a downside to being denied sight. It was something she never contemplated or been aware of until now. She felt every touch more intensely. She definitely felt the tip of his withered penis as it grazed repeatedly against the crimp of her mouth. It also felt weird to have his rugged hand grasping her jaw and its accompanying fingers pressing gently to leverage it open.

It wasn't just the sense of touch. Emotionally, she was disgusted over this atrocious act. Knowing that the head of her dad's cock was brushing across her mouth made her queasy.

"Open for papa," he said.

Although he said those words as part of his sex play, there was an oddness to it. It was demoralizing because it was too close to reality.

Each bouncing smack across her lips was like a knock on a door. That flexible fleshy knob was insistent in its demand that she open up.

She knew he wouldn't stop until her tightly scrunched mouth accepted his endowment.

His real wife wouldn't refuse to take him in her mouth. It was expected and her objection to it would have him seething.

Again, she found herself in a position that gave her no choice.

Reluctantly, she cracked her mouth.

She had known what to expect from that action, but was unprepared for the surprise. She thought him still flaccid. She was unaware that it had stiffened from rubbing and tapping it against her face.

There was distress at having a bloated tube plunged directly to the back of her throat.

That gagging member caused an impulsive reaction to pull back. She was dismayed at finding her head restricted by two grasping hands. He wasn't just holding her in place, he was maneuvering her upon his spit.

She experienced anguish. Her verbalized objections came out as loud gurgles.

"Honey, my god, you've done this a thousand times. You know how to pleasure my tool. Your fingernails are biting into my leg and it hurts. Quit performing like a naïve virgin and suck my dick like a whore. Remember, use both hands and grasp my shank, your tongue to pleasure, and saliva to lubricant. It doesn't matter what order. Jerking and tugging on it helps. Licking and playing with my balls is also pleasurable. Do I need to teach you how to suck a man's cock?"

It was disheartening to hear him use those disgusting words.

She questioned the level of depravity of her husband, Paul. What did he write on that list? Why was he using it to demean her dad? Her father was being made less human and more brute. There was great sorrow at knowing that. Her dad had always been kind and gentle.

While coddling his rigid shaft, she wept.

She was on the verge of failing. Her lack of skill prompted him to question her. It was generating frustration and causing him to tighten his grip.

Her deficiencies were annoying even her.

There is usually a steadfast bond between a parent and child. It often motivates children to strive for parental favor. In this instance, it was no different for her. Deep in her psyche she felt disappointment over displeasing him.

Her current path was leading towards disaster. It needed to be reversed.

Her mind wandered in desperation to grasp upon any solution. She thought, if I don't do something he's going to lose his temper. My god, if he finds out, it'll destroy him. Our lives will become a horrific tragedy and all because I never learned how to suck a cock.

A memory came to her. Back when they were dating, Paul had played a trick. He had replaced a newly purchased movie with hardcore porn. Upon playing it, she became repulsed. The shock at viewing such filth stunned her. She sat unmoving and watched those nasty scenes play out. It wasn't long before she stormed out and locked herself away. He claimed it was a prank, but she found little humor in it.

Strangely, that visual imagery now played in her mind. It was odd that she recollected every disgusting detail of those performances. A video she once found revolting was now the lifeline that might save her. She would attempt to use it as a base of instruction to pleasure her dad's cock.

Shaping both hands to form a triangle, she grasped the base of his shaft. She then extended her thumbs downward to tickle his balls. Along its length her tongue slithered wetly against its flesh.

She felt foolish repetitiously licking that meaty tube. It was similar to someone pressing the replay button numerous times and it was exhaustive. She learned that it was less abrasive to her tongue if she slobbered. All in all, she began to improvise and alternate her methods away from the instructive video.

His response to this wondrous transformation was to drive her head upward towards its tip with a nudge of his hand. Mimicking the woman from the video, she didn't hesitate to gobble the bulbous head with a widened mouth. Her tongue shaped into a half-funnel to glide along its underside. Her head then began bobbing like the spindle arm on a sewing machine.

She became comfortable and realized that sucking dick became progressively easier over time. The sounds he made was evidence that she had improved. It was an eccentric thought, but there was a tinge of pride over her performance. She also wanted to kick herself upon acknowledging it.

There was difficulty at understanding how feelings of disgust could simply evaporate.

She questioned herself. How do you hold on to that emotion when there's no chain to anchor it down? How does something distasteful one minute suddenly become a tasty meal? Once passion takes over, do all heterosexual females crave to put it in their mouth or was it just her?

She attributed the dramatic change to arousal that grew from the task.

In pleasuring him, she found that it fueled lust within herself, which in effect moved her to perform more sexually. That emotion feed on itself and heightened the emotion.

He said, "Giving me a blowjob never affected you like this before. I've never seen you smile so broadly as you are now. It's clear that you're stimulated by it."

After several moments of licking, slurping, and bobbing, his comment regarding her smile sank in.

The truth slammed her.

Its impact made her relinquish his cock and blunder backward.

The reality of it was too much to bear.

Within the confines of her mind, she screamed, oh my god, what the fuck did you do to me, Paul?

"Martha, what's wrong? One minute you're enjoying it and then you shuffle away in alarm. To hell with the master-whore role-playing for the moment. If it's something I said or did, then I apologize. We don't have to do this. It can end now. I'm only doing this because it was your idea. Tell me you want to quit this foolish diversion and it stops now."

She was still stunned from her revelation. She now understood that it wasn't simply having a dick in her mouth that affected her. The truth was that the pleasure she felt was directly related to having her dad's cock in her mouth. It was the taboo of the act itself that drove her arousal.

When he spoke, her thoughts were still cluttered. She attempted to understand his declaration. Quit the game? He was willing to stop now. All of this could end now. All she had to do was tell him. For obvious reasons, she would never choose to do that.

She sighed and exhaled a puff of air. Even with a choice, she had no say.

Reaching between her legs, her hand nibbled against her sensitive mound. With a bent finger, she slithered it leisurely into herself and pressed the palm against her clit. Those actions produced a pleasurable shudder. It was an intentional act meant to dissuade her thoughts and justify her decision.

Dropping to all fours, she groveled back to him. Walking her hands up his leg, she fidgeted nervously as she sought to grasped his rigid extremity.

Opening her mouth agape, her tongue diddled along the underside ridge of his dick. Drool dribbled over the rim of her mouth and trickled down her chin. A sequence of groans vibrated within her chest. She then lunged with longing and gobbled its engorged head.

"I guess that's your answer," he said.

***

Kinky New Whore

"Ass in the air and face to the mattress. Yes, just like that," he said.

With her head to the bed, Carol turned her face sideways and gulped for breath.

She was relieved that her degradation had changed course.

Her whorish task to pleasure her dad's big cock had injured her. There was mild soreness around her lips and minor abrasions on her tongue. It was her throat that took the brunt. She could feel a slight swelling of the tissue. It didn't necessary hurt, but it was annoying.

Each time his cock was removed, she experienced a sense of loss. The absence of that hard dick drove a yearning for its return. It was an irrational desire that befuddled her. She compared it to a pacifier that provided satisfaction and comfort. Again, she questioned whether heterosexual women felt that craving or was it simply abnormal behavior influenced by her circumstances.

In this instance, there wasn't any longing for its return. She wasn't disappointed when he pulled back from her.

She knew why he drew away. He was on the cusp of an ejaculation. She could feel his dick thicken and throb as it plunged between her lips. Squandering his load in that orifice wasn't on his agenda. That became clear when he said, "I'm not wasting my jizz in my whore's mouth."

His decision to remove his prick from her encircling lips was a reluctant one. It was slow and he verbalized that disappointment with a variety of curses.

He wasn't fast enough to constrain that impulsive need.

She tasted a small measure of cream. It was difficult to describe something so new. She felt no disgust over that small glob of expended gift, but she did grimace from its salty flavor.

She held her rear high and arched her back downward. Spreading her knees wider than necessary, her splayed pussy gaped with invitation.

She shivered nervously when he crimped his hand and encircled her anal ring. As he separated two curved fingers, it formed a gap quite similar to a funnel. That newly open hole bubbled as it absorbed the flowing stream of lubricate that was squeezed from a bottle with his other hand.

She curled her bottom lip and crimped her mouth tight.

Once filled, the excess dribbled down as a glossy sheen and streamed itself along the crevasse of her precious crack.

Her arms bent at the elbow and extended out to rest on top of her head. Her interlaced fingers tensed as the head of a round object pressed against her anus.

She grunted painfully as a smooth elongated phallus was slid into that objectionable constricted tube. The multiple bulbous glass heads that rounded the length of the shaft were like golf-ball sized beads. It was an obtrusive object that was pushed with slow measured force.

She grimaced and then bit her lip to keep from crying out.

The unwelcome intruder forced the lining of her rectum to stretch and conform. It refused to be ignored.

She experienced several stages of physical sensations. Upon initial entry it began as pain. The lubricant that coated the lining of her bowels eased it to an annoying discomfort. It then ended with a numbing throb.

She felt the full girth of that pole. It wasn't its 5-inch length that bothered her; it was its 2.5-inch thick circumference that forced the muscles in her rectum to push back that disturbed her. Those powerful strands involuntary compressed against the intruder. It was a weird reaction that made her feel like her ass was milking the monstrous shaft. Capped off by a cone shaped rubber plug, it was impossible to expel. The sensation of having that cavity occupied in this manner was manifesting an odd reaction similar to stimulating her clit. It was causing her pussy to tingle.

She was so focused on evaluating this unique experience that she twitched when he placed his hands on her upended rounded butt cheeks.

There was an expectation as to what came next. She knew the moment the tip of his cock brushed against her sex that he was in preparation for the big event. She could feel her vagina pulsate and constrict in anticipation for its turn to be filled.

She was saddened that there was no fan-fair and no tease.

He simply thrust his full length and began fucking.

She felt dishearten over her father pounding into her like she was a cheap ten-dollar strumpet. Although this kinky game required that she pretend to be one, every action she took seemed to bring her one step closer to actually becoming one. At the moment of penetration, she hadn't yet accepted the perception of herself in that role.

She didn't expect that fragile wall to crumble so quickly. Between a heartbeat, a thrust, and rebounding plunge, the battle over that definition was lost. That perceived role became reality. The only comfort from knowing that she had breached the line was the excuse that she couldn't help it.