She screamed as she felt the lash of his belt across her naked ass cheeks.
"Brazen daughter!" he shouted out, foaming at the mouth. "Slut! Whore."
"No!" she cried. "I'm not your daughter. I'm not... I'm just a girl who... "
She was only a girl who looked like his lost daughter, but he didn't give her a chance to respond to him. She didn't even get a chance to finish her explanation.
He stuffed a filthy rag in her mouth, a rag she couldn't dislodge because he had her so tightly bound in that position on the floor of his small room. "Now I'll show you what I do to brazen sluts. I'll show you how whores should be treated."
Pulling open his pants, he stroked his thick endowment. Then he pressed the head of it against the lips of the girl's pussy. He pushed forward and she felt it ripping her apart.
But the sound of her scream was not heard because of the gag in her mouth.
CHAPTER ONE
It was a quiet and peaceful town. The house was in need of a paint job, but it was a nice, warm house. Everyone on the block spoke of the devotion of the father and daughter who lived in that house.
"Ivy is such a wonderful housekeeper," the women on the block all said. "She'll make some young man a wonderful wife someday. It'll be a sad day when her father loses her."
And then they would usually remark, "That Mr. Johnson is such a devoted father to his girl he doesn't seem to have any life of his own. Poor soul. How does he do without Mrs. Johnson?"
Sometimes when the men on the block were together one of them would remark to the other, "Do you really think that Johnson is such a goody-goody? I mean, what do you think goes on in that house? He's got that beautiful daughter of his and no one to stop him from doing what he wants. I mean, have you ever seen the way that girl worships her father?
But the response to that was usually, "No, Johnson is a decent sort. Very decent."
And then someone else might remark, "Who can tell what goes on in that house. The two of them aren't the sociable sort, are they? But I don't suppose it's anyone's business."
Everyone on the block was cordial to Ivy Johnson and her father. Everyone respected them both.
Ivy was one of the brightest girls in the high school and her father was an instructor at the college.
He taught English literature in the small Pennsylvania college.
They had both led rather sheltered lives since the loss of Mrs. Johnson. The good looking man had originally thought he should remarry out of duty to his daughter, so that she would have a mother to help her grow up in the right way. But, the girl was growing up well on her own.
And, as time passed she proved that she was able to care for the house. He had a cleaning woman come in twice a week, but his daughter always took care of preparing dinner and he took care of doing the shopping for food and household things.
Once a year his sister would visit and she would generally take Ivy on a shopping expedition so that the girl could be well-dressed. In this way, the quiet and gentle man was saved the embarrassment of having to help choose his daughter's first bra.
Now that Ivy was sixteen she was quite capable of buying her own bras.
She was also reaching an age where she was asking herself questions. She had no one else who might be able to answer such questions for her. Her concern was for her father and yet these were questions she didn't wish to ask him, as much as they disturbed her.
Foremost among the questions was "What did father do for sex? That was the one that kept running through the girl's head as she watched her father methodically move through his days, always perfectly organized and well-planned, and always putting her welfare first.
In the five years since her mother had died, the girl hadn't seen her father go out with another woman. He spent his free time with his daughter. Weekend afternoons the two of them would make excursions. And then, on a Saturday night, the two of them might sip cocoa and chat until it was quite late. When she was a little younger, Ivy would smile to herself and think, "This is just the way it is for married couples."
But, as she got a little older she saw that there was one thing missing from this fantasy setting with her father. He was not getting sex from any source that she could see.
She learned about masturbation, of course. First, she learned it for herself and she went through the terribly frightening period that most young people go through, the period when, uneducated about sex, they think that they're doing something that no one else in the world has ever done before.
So, she felt that her frigging had to be furtive and hidden. She never spoke of it and it haunted her continually. But then she started to hear about it from others.
First she thought it was only something that boys did and she felt that she was dirty and oversexed because she was doing it to herself. But soon she found out that girls did touch themselves as well, even though they might not have admitted it so readily.
And then, when she realized how universal masturbation was, she realized that it was something her father must have been doing. She went through a period where she refused to believe that her father had ever done anything like that, where she couldn't believe that he had ever had sexual passions. But then she recognized the naivete of these assumptions.
She became self-conscious, fearful that the man could read her thoughts and yet knowing that the very fear she had was a silly one. Finally she accepted it as a mature fact of life. Her father was a man. He had a penis. Her mother, as sainted as she might have considered the virtuous woman, was a woman with a vagina. The two of them had had sexual relations.
It was a fact of life. Once she had accepted that fact she started to think of the sexual passion that was behind it. She would be lying in her bedroom, the lights but, and she would feel that insistent tingling in her pussy, the tingling that told her that she was feeling sexual passion. Then she would reach down to touch herself.
She had been touching herself in that way for such a long time. And she had been having sexual fantasies for almost as long. Sometimes she had even had fantasies about her father.
Ivy would imagine what it would be like to be lying in bed and to have her father climbing in next to her. She would turn to him and see those pale blue eyes of his and hear him saying, "I've been so lonely. I've missed your mother so much, Ivy."
"Ill be here in place of my mother, papa. Don't worry." That's how it would go in her fantasy.
Then her father would push her nightgown up her thighs and he would mount himself on top of her.
She would sigh softly and he would peel off his clothes.
In fantasies there are never any buttons that get stuck and there are never any zippers to manipulate.
His cock would be hard already. The girl would press herself up against his body so that he could manage to get his penis inside her. Then she would feel the walls of her flesh being spread open.
Before that happened, as she well knew, she would have to lose her virginity. Pesky problems like that did not arise in fantasies. In fantasies everything flowed easily.
Once she reached the age where she was able to accept and to understand the fact that her father was a man with a penis who had sexual needs also, the thought would run through her mind as she frigged herself. Perhaps, right on the other side of the wall, her father was masturbating. Her father's fingers were rubbing up and down the length of his penis just as her own fingers were working around and around the lips of her pussy.
She wondered if that was really so. She wondered what would happen, what could happen if that wall wasn't there. What would happen if she and her father were together?
The girl would try to keep herself from thinking that thought, would try to keep herself from thinking about what her father looked like completely naked. But, she would think the thoughts in spite of herself. She would try to imagine someone else, some television star or some sports hero in her high school, when she frigged herself. But, as the passion grew in her body she would always see her father in front of her.
And, indeed, right on the other side of the wall, the man really was jerking off and he was seeing his daughter. He was imagining what she looked like naked and he was feeling a great deal of guilt because he was thinking that. He went through the same mental contortions that she was practicing just on the other side of the wall. He tried to think of other women. He tried to forget the image of his beautiful daughter. But, as he would begin to cum the face of his daughter would appear before him.
She had replaced his departed wife on the pedestal of his love and passion.
And because he placed her on that pedestal he made her life more than a little difficult. But the difficulties he placed before her were not the sort that his neighbors paid much attention to.
After the man had spent so many weekends with her as she grew up she felt guilty about leaving him alone on a Saturday night. The girl never dated although she was often asked.
Everyone agreed that she was the most beautiful girl in the school and everyone longed for her.
But, she wouldn't see any of the boys. Once, right after she had turned fifteen her father remarked about this. "Oh, I don't know, Daddy. All the boys seem so immature."
"There must be some boy you'd like to go out with?" he asked, hoping against hope that her answer would be in the negative.
She paused and thought and then she blushed a little bit. "Oh, Daddy. I suppose."
"Well, if a nice young man asks you out I don't mind... as long as he comes to the house so that I can meet him and as long as he brings you home at a decent hour."
And so she went to the school dance the following month. She had an awful time though. She just couldn't relax. She couldn't enjoy herself. The girls in school had given up on Ivy years before.
They all decided that she was a snob who thought she was better than everyone else.
Actually, it was just because she kept her distance, because she had given so much of herself to her father that she had little left over for anyone else, that made the girls think she was acting like a snob. She didn't know how to deal with people her own age. She only knew how to deal with her father. He was the only one in the world she cared for.
It was that admirable sentiment on the girl's part that was so lauded by the neighbors. But it was that feeling on the girl's part, that exclusive feeling for her father, that was keeping her from having a chance to mature properly.
She heard the other girls talking in school. The girls had been dating boys. They had gone through necking and deep into petting. Some of the girls had jerked off their boyfriends. Some of them were worrying about actually fucking with their boyfriends.
Ivy was separate from all of that. She listened objectively. But, as she listened she felt a longing for something she knew she was missing. If only her father could fill that gap. If only he could fill up her body with his passionate manhood!
The man had a growing feeling inside him, a feeling similar to the one his daughter experienced.
Two years earlier he had acted upon those feelings. Or, rather, he had tried to act upon those feelings. But the incident that resulted was a terrible one.
He had traveled to New York City for a weekend of seminars on new teaching techniques for English literature. There were distinguished professors from all over the Northeast at that conference and Mr. Johnson was one of the people who was speaking.
His lecture was well-received. He discussed ways of interesting contemporary students in classic plays by pointing out the similarity between those plays and contemporary works. "In other words," he informed a receptive audience of intellectuals. "If they want violence and passion steer them toward 'The Duchess of Malfi' or 'Richard II or any of a number of works you can think of. Let them know that the same things which bring audiences into movie houses today once brought audiences into theatres.
"Then you might also point out that the language of these plays is a little more difficult, but that it's worth the effort since these are classics. Every classic became a classic for a good reason and not because it was boring. More likely because it really spoke in a relevant way to a human situation."
He received a great round of applause and there were many who said his was the best speech of the weekend.
That night when the different professors went back to the hotel one of them walked alongside Johnson. "I'm going downtown for a girl tonight. After all, the wife is back home. What about you Johnson? You're here at the conference alone, aren't you?"
He tensed up and said, "I'm a widower. I lost my wife some years ago."
"Oh," he groaned. "Sorry to hear that, fella. You wanna come with me. I have the address of a really swell place. They charge a hundred for a girl, but they're safe and clean."
"A hundred for a girl?" He blushed. "I hadn't realized it was so high."
Chuckling, the other man said, "Well, we are in New York City. There's a little bit of everything here. If you want it for only twenty bucks you can find a girl down around Times Square. They're not as clean and they might just rip you off, but... "
"I think I'll just stay in my hotel room and read tonight," he said, in a clipped voice.
"Suit yourself." And there was another person who would forever after accuse Johnson of having a high-handed attitude, never recognizing that man's discomfort.
Johnson was able to be a little more cordial to the people who invited him along to Chinatown. He went to his hotel room. The sessions for the following day didn't begin until ten in the morning with a brunch that would include a panel discussion on required versus voluntary reading lists. Once back in his hotel room he phoned his daughter. He had left the girl in the care of an older couple who lived right down the block from him.
"I miss you, Daddy," she said. That made him feel good. He had only been gone since the previous evening but she was already telling him that she missed him. He liked that. He didn't recognize that, since she really meant that, missing him after such a short absence wasn't such a positive thing. It wasn't even a very healthy thing.
But, once he had some dinner and took a long, comfortable bath, and relaxed on the bed, he started to think about sex. After all, he was away from his daughter.
For a moment he felt guilt about that. Why should separation from his daughter be an immediate opportunity for sex? But, then again, it was. He couldn't go whoring around in his hometown with his young daughter right in the house. But, now that he was in New York City he couldn't see giving up this chance, passing up this opportunity.
Who would be hurt if he were to get laid that night? It had been such a long time, such a very long time since he had last been with a woman. He missed it.
And so he got dressed slowly. He tried to look casual, knowing that he hadn't brought any casual clothes with him. He put on the grey pants from his suit and the sweater he had brought in case it got chilly. He looked at himself in the mirror.
At that time he hadn't yet turned forty. He was a handsome man with dark blond hair that was clipped short and a strong, manly jaw. His eyes were pale blue. His shoulders were still broad and he was in fine shape.
Kevin Johnson certainly could have done well in any of the singles' bars in New York, but he wouldn't give himself a, chance. He didn't want to have to stop and talk to a woman. He didn't want to have to be charming and make conversation.
Those were things that were, somehow, reserved for his daughter. His charm, his friendship, his affection. He couldn't see faking those things for any other female.
And so, once he had brushed his hair he knew just where he was going. He would go to Times Square.
He walked slowly in that direction. Since his hotel was on Sixth Avenue, he walked down to Forty-second Street first and then he turned right and walked along that notorious street. He saw the first of the sex shops. He stopped into one and saw the lines of books.
Quickly he left the shop, blushing at the titles and the headlines of the books.
Then he proceeded, watching the crowd moving around him, hearing the hawkers trying to sell him all sorts of drugs and all sorts of other items as well.
"Tuinols! Black beauties! THC! Acid!" The words were shouted into his ear as if he were at a carnival in the depths of hell. He walked a little faster when he came to the block that was bordered by Broadway on one end and Eighth Avenue on the other end.
And then he was at Eighth Avenue and there seemed to be a lower rung that he had not expected.
Just when he thought he had sunk as far as he could, he saw the life on that Avenue.
How did that lyric really go? The "Avenue of broken dreams?" This seemed to be the final avenue of dreams, the avenue of the few dreams that were left for those who had been sucked dry everywhere else.
He wandered to the right and he saw the pimps with their fine, wide-brimmed hats. He heard the hawkers and then he saw the girls.
They were leaning back against the walls of the buildings.
One of them smiled at him. She was black and she had breasts which seemed to be displayed out of her spread open bodice.
He walked another two blocks. This was too frantic, too frenzied. He couldn't think with the noise all around him. He couldn't make any commitment to any girl like that.
Once he was traveling in that direction he realized that he was going back up toward the direction of the hotel. He figured that he would give up on his plan. He would forget about finding a whore.
And just then he saw a young blonde girl standing and leaning against a car. She didn't have the make-up on that the others had. Her clothes were revealing, but not nearly as garish. They didn't attract attention the way the other outfits did.
He looked at her for a long moment. He stopped in his tracks and he was staring at her.
And then a fear gripped his heart. This girl, he assumed, was certainly not a hooker. She didn't look common like the other girls. She would think he was trying to get fresh. He tried to turn away from her, but was too fascinated by her youthful beauty.
She looked right into his eyes and she smiled at him. She was, indeed, hooking.
"Interested?" she asked the man in a sexual voice that offered great possibilities.
He took one step closer to her and asked, "How old are you?"
"Fuck off, mister," she said, moving away from him. "I'm working."
"Okay. Yes. I'm interested," he said, making her stop in her tracks.
"I don't work cheap," she said, playing him like a fish on a line now that she knew that he was so very interested. She turned to face him, revealing her sexy body.
"I'll pay you fifty dollars," he blurted out suddenly. He was surprised as he heard himself making that offer. But, he wasn't going to rescind the offer once it was made.
"Swell," she said, moving closer to him. "Fifty?" She paused after she repeated the figure and looked right into his eyes as she asked, "You want something... special?"
The girl was used to receiving much less than fifty dollars and that was her asking price for a man who wanted something special. To the girl the words 'something special' meant bondage and sado-masochistic games. To the man it meant something warm and affectionate. At least that was the way he interpreted it right then and there.
He nodded his head and said, "Yes. I'd like it to be special." He almost blurted out the fact that it had been a long time since he had been with a girl, but he held that back. He suddenly felt that information was rather embarrassing and so he kept it to himself.
"I know just the place where we can go. Say, have you got another ten bucks for a motel room? I'll try to get the desk clerk to work it down to seven bucks. If this clerk is on who's a friend of mine. that'll be easy enough." As the girl spoke, the man was seething up inside. He remembered his first response to her. Her look was one of purity. Her beauty seemed to reflect good breeding and loveliness. He had been sure that she wasn't a whore. Now she was sounding so much like a whore that he felt anger rising inside him.
He was feeling anger toward the girl who was walking alongside him.
They went into the place she indicated and he paid for the room. Then they went upstairs together.
"Okay," she said, as soon as the door was closed. "You wanted something special." She giggled and licked her lips. "Why don't you tell me what you want."
The heat was rising up his neck as she licked his ear. "Come on, sweetie. Don't be embarrassed. I've done a little bit of everything. You just have to tell me what you want."
He pushed her away from his ear, feeling quite annoyed by the whole thing. "I want you to stop calling me sweetie, for one thing." Then he had her wrists in his hand and she fell to her knees in front of him and looked up at him with adoration in her eyes.
"Yes, master!" she said, sensing the man's desire to play a dominant role.
It was all confusing to him. He knew nothing of sexual dominance and submission. He only knew that he had felt pissed with the girl, annoyed with himself for taking her there and offering her such a large amount, and irritated by the feeling of her tongue in his ear.
She, being a professional, immediately interpreted his sincere irritation as being his expression of sexuality. And so, she was on her knees in front of him. bowing her head.
"Is this how you're going to give me something special?" It was a sincere question. He had expected affection from her. Deep in his heart he knew that he wanted to imagine that he was making love to his daughter. Now he was openly angry with her.
He was angry because she was acting like a whore in every way, rather than acting like his daughter would have acted, prim and proper. And he was also angry at himself because he felt so much guilt about the sexual passion he had wanted to play out.
Now that the blonde girl was on her knees in front of him, it was quite a chance to express that anger.
He tossed her onto the bed and she did not fight back. She just sprawled out there and he landed on top of her. He started to pull off her clothes.
"Hey, you'll rip them!" Now she was no longer playing her sexual game.
But the man didn't care. He hadn't been playing a game from the time he had started. He wasn't sexually experienced enough to know that such games existed. Perhaps, at the start of his married life he had thought of such things, but they had always remained fantasies to him. They had always remained locked away in the deep recesses of his brain.
Soon the pleasures of simple sexual contact with the woman he loved replaced the fantasies of sexual gamesmanship. They replaced the fantasies of dominance and submission since he found that he was unable to think of his wife in those terms.
He loved that one woman in his life. Well, he loved his daughter as well but he kept telling himself that his love for the young girl was different from the love for his wife.
But the days of love for his wife had been numbered. He hadn't been able to keep her with him on this mortal plane. His pleasures were replaced by nothing at all. He had bitterness and he had his cold world, but that was all that he had.
And there was a bigger and bigger -vacuum left inside him, a vacuum that had once been filled with love and was now filled with a hundred different mixed emotions. There was too much empty space in his heart. Too much empty space in his loins.
There was a chance for fear to creep inside him. There was a chance for anger to creep into him. He would see a sexy girl on the campus, a girl who was obviously moving her ass from side to side, and obviously getting the boys to look at her body because of her clinging clothes.
And when he saw that girl he would feel a rage rising up inside him. Was this what the younger generation was coming to? Was this the world that his daughter would be growing up in? Would his daughter be exposed to all of this? Then he imagined Ivy wearing pants like that and showing off her rear end to all the boys, and he was filled with dread and fear.
He could feel his cock rising at the thought. Ivy was so beautiful. Ivy was more beautiful than any of the other girls around. She would be so sexy dressed like that.
The man felt the passion for his own daughter, but it was mixed with anger at himself for feeling that passion and it was .mixed with dread at the fear of what might happen to his daughter.
And so, the man was filled with very mixed feelings indeed at the sight of a beautiful girl.
Now that he was in the tawdry hotel room along with the sexy blonde girl who had been hooking on the street and he had tossed her down, he pulled her up on the bed and slammed himself on top of her.
She saw the anger on his face and then she was filled with fear.
"Hey, come on, mister. Don't hurt me. I never did anything to you."
"Shut up!" he snarled, slapping her across the face. His knees were on either side of her arms, holding her in place. He was opening the front of his pants and pulling out his dick.
She looked up and tried to plot an escape. She was also filled with fear. There were nuts all around the Times Square area. She had been offered the protection of a pimp, but she had refused to take it.
She knew that something like this might happen, that she might end up being beaten up by some maniac, but she didn't want the part with the percentage that the pimp wanted.
And so she was on her own there in the hotel room with the man over her. His cock was pulled out of his pants. When he looked down at her, he saw the fear in her face.
"What are you looking like that for?" he snarled down at her.
"Look, man, I just do this shit to make a living. I gotta do something to live."
"How old are you?" he asked, repeating the first question he had ever asked her.
"Is that what's eating you, man? I'm sixteen, okay? My folks kicked me out of the house because they didn't like my choice of a boyfriend. So... where was I supposed to go?
"Hey, man, are you okay?" she continued, her voice showing concern because of the glazed look in his eyes.
She looked up at his cock, which was beginning to go soft now. "What's the matter? Hey, man, do you see a... don't take this question the wrong way, man, but... do you ever go to see a psychiatrist?
I mean, are you... okay, man?" She swallowed hard, no longer seeking a way out.
He slumped back on his heels. His erection had been more than a physical thing and it had been lost for more than a physical reason. He was thinking about his daughter now. She was so close to the age of this girl. Could the same thing happen to her?
And with that thought he found that he was no longer sexually aroused. The dread took over.
The girl who was lying on her back on the bed, lying where he had tossed her, sat up then and looked into the man's face. She moved her head down and pressed her lips against the head of his cock. She opened her lips and wrapped them around the cock head.
He was the one who was lying back then. His legs were spread and his pants were up. Only his cock was pulled out of the fly of his pants, but as she started to work her lips up and down on the length of the penis she reached into the fly opening and pulled his balls out.
She was playing with the balls as she sucked on the cock.
The girl had a professional tongue. Her lips moved up and down and her tongue moved from side to side. She was exciting the man's cock as much as she could and it was working. She could feel the stiffness that was growing in the middle of his cock. It felt as if his penis was turning into an iron bar.
Then she really moved her mouth up and down on the cock, massaging the bottom of it with her tongue. It was as though the sensitive flesh on the bottom of the cock was being urged to give forth the juices that was buried in the man's nuts. He could feel the way his balls were boiling.
She could feel the stiffness growing in the penis. She could feel the cock head flaring out. Even as her tongue was being depressed in her mouth by the pressure of the bottom of the cock, the flared head of the penis was rubbing along the roof of her mouth.
The cock pulled back out of her mouth and she could feel the flare of the glans pulling back at her lips. The man was trying to pull away from her. The cock slipped free.
But he was excited now. He was excited in spite of himself.
She slid her lips around one of the sacs of his balls and she worked her tongue against the wrinkled, hairy flesh that was the ball sac. She could feel the nut jiggling in the sac and she pressed it up against the roof of her mouth, working and exciting the bit of flesh with her tongue on one side of it and the roof of her mouth on the other side.
The man pulled his body away from her and she tried to nip a bit of the flesh of his ball sac.
He looked down and realized that he was absolutely stiff. Then he looked at the girl and he pushed her back down onto the bed, spreading her legs. Then he pressed the head of his cock against her cunt lips. Since her slacks and panties had been ripped, it was an easy matter for him to get at the pussy slit.
His nervous fingers spread open the lips of her pussy and then the head of his cock replaced the fingers right there. Once he had pushed his way into her he could feel the cunt lips slapping shut around the flared head of his cock.
Then he pushed forward and he could feel the interior pussy lips welcoming his prick.
He slid the full length of his cock all the way inside her body and he could feel the warm and moist flesh that was wrapped around the full length of his cock.
Working his dick in one direction and then in the other he was moving his cock in and out of her, slapping hard against the depths of her cunt and against all sides of her insides.
She was pushing her hips up to meet his thrusts and it hardly took two minutes before he felt his prick exploding inside of her. He shut his eyes. "Ivy," was on his lips.
His body was being drained into the depths of the wet and hot cunt.
But he pulled his dick out before he finished shooting his load into her. His cum splashed onto the girl's body, onto her ripped panties. He pulled away and got off the bed.
He had his back turned to the girl. She was looking at him and wondering what strange thoughts were going on in his head, what thoughts had brought about his strange performance.
"Are you okay, mister?" she asked him, figuring it would be better to stay on his good side.
He was in the process of stuffing his dick back into his pants. He reached into the back pocket of his pants and took his wallet. Then he counted out fifty dollars and tossed it onto the bed without looking at the girl.
"You know, you ripped my clothes here. I wasn't counting on you ripping this stuff. I'll have to buy new stuff and now I'll have to lose more money by going home and getting changed."
The man tossed another ten dollar bill on the bed. This was quite expensive for a college professor, but it was a one time thing for him. That's the way he reasoned it.
No, he didn't really reason it at all. He just wanted to give her the money. He wanted her to stop talking. He wanted to get out of there. Love had always been a beautiful thing for him and his wife.
This sex with a hooker was no replacement for that.
He felt as if he had been dirtied by the whole experience. He rushed from the room.
"Hey, mister, look for me again sometime. Okay? For sixty bucks you ain't so bad."
Those were the words he heard as he went running down the hall. He didn't hear the girl mumbling to herself, "A million nuts in the city. But, as long as he didn't hurt me... " There was a wistful note in her words, a sad note, as if she sensed that she might not be so lucky the next time she took the same sort of chance with a man.
She just hoped that it would be just as easy next time, maybe even nicer.
CHAPTER TWO
Now it was two years later. Of course the man hadn't told his daughter about the incident with the whore in New York.
In that same way, his daughter hadn't told him that at the party she had attended a year before that she had let a boy kiss her and even press his body against hers.
She knew that all of the other girls in school had gone much further than that, and she also knew that her sexual hunger and passions called out for more satisfaction than that. But, she had held back. She felt guilty about doing anything when she felt such love for her father.
And yet, the deepest guilt she felt was because of the love for her father, because of the passion for her father.
She didn't realize that the relationship between her and her father was going to change, and very soon. She didn't know that something would happen on an innocent afternoon that would turn her life upside down.
That afternoon her father was in his office on the campus. He looked at the list of the students who had signed up for appointments to meet with him. The last student was out in the hall. He went to the door and invited her in.
She was a shapely young woman. Although she was only nineteen, she looked older because of the way she wore her make up and because of the clothes she was wearing. Her sweater showed off her beautiful breasts underneath the thin fabric. Her skirt showed off her shapely hips.
Her hair was black and it was up on top of her head, worn in a rather out of date style.
She carried her books in her arms, cradling them against one of her breasts.
"Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Johnson," the girl said as she settled herself into a seat.
He nodded to her and said, "It's my job, Miss Langford."
"Oh, please call me Melissa," the girl smiled as she put her books onto the seat next to her.
"I'm going to still insist that you call me Dr. Johnson. I worked a little too hard to earn that title."
"Certainly," she said, batting her eyelashes and looking very sexy.
"Now, what can I do for you, Melissa?" he asked, wishing to get home.
"It's the poor grades I've been receiving, sir. I know you wanted to talk to me about them."
"Oh, yes," he said, thumbing through his grade book. "At the beginning of the semester you were getting quite respectable grades and now... on the last two papers that you've handed in you received grades of D and D- respectively. Now on this paper I've had to give you an F. You know that you're the only student getting an F on this one and yet you started the semester with grades in the B range. Is something confusing you in the work?"
"No, sir. It's kind of you to ask. But, it's a personal problem."
"Can I be of any help to you at all? I know I'm only your English professor, but I hate to see a student's educational opportunities going down the drain, Melissa."
"Thank you, sir. Actually, it's nothing that embarrasses me. I'm a rather liberated woman. I just broke up with my boyfriend. Actually I broke up with him the week before the D-paper was handed in and it's really been making a mess of my nerves."
"Well, I'm glad to see you're able to discuss this calmly, now, Melissa. I can understand how you were heartbroken. I don't belittle youthful relationships and I can see where this might have left you terribly scarred. If you like, I'll give you a chance to... "
"Oh, no, sir. I wasn't crying or anything about it. Actually, I was the one who split with him because he was such an ass hole... Oh, excuse my language, Professor. I just mean that he believed in all these antiquated ideas about women. He had these conservative views."
"Well, Melissa, perhaps I don't understand just what's troubling you then."
"Frankly, Professor, I said that this didn't embarrass me because I consider myself to be liberated, but I... don't wish to embarrass you with my frank remarks."
"I can assure you that my study of English literature has put me in contact with remarks that have been much franker than any you could make, Melissa. However, if you feel that I'm intruding in your personal life, please tell me that I should... stop."
"Oh, no, sir. You know, all the students always say that you're one of the best teachers here because you really care about your students as individuals."
The man blushed a little bit. He considered himself a professional and felt uncomfortable with compliments.
"Frankly, sir, it involves sex. I guess I'm a rather lusty girl and when I don't have sex regularly I feel high-strung and I'm not able to concentrate. Well, I'm not some whore who's willing to put out for any guy who comes along. I like the guy to be intelligent and nice and someone I like."
There was a long pause and then Dr. Johnson asked, "How old are you?"
"Nineteen, sir," she said with a smile. "I'm already a junior."
"I'm a little surprised that a girl of nineteen should be... " He felt too awkward to continue.
She shrugged her shoulders and laughed. "I don't mind admitting that I'm a lusty girl."
He met her eyes across his desk. Her eyes were very black and she was looking directly into his face. "Would you like to help me with my problem, sir? Would you really like to help me?"
Clearing his throat, the professor asked, "What do you mean, Miss Langford?"
"Melissa. Remember?" She grinned and showed him her dimples.
"Well, I don't want to step over the bounds of professional... "
"You're a man, professor. You must know that you're a very appealing man."
He stood up from behind his desk and tried to adjust his jacket so that his erection wouldn't show in the front of his pants. "People might get the wrong idea."
"How would they get the wrong idea?" she asked, brushing her fingers boldly against the front of his pants. "Who would ever tell them? I know that you don't have a wife... "
"That's something personal. I lost my wife and do not discuss that with... "
"All I meant is that I know you must have your own needs. Couldn't I fill them?"
"Melissa, what if I give you a better grade next week and someone thinks that it's because of this, because you and I were together and we... " He blushed.
"Come on, Professor. You will give me a better grade next week because my paper will be better next week. If I have you, if I have sex and your body and I... Oh, it's what I need."
She was standing up and pressing her well-rounded body against his body. She pressed her lips firmly against his lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her body and held her even tighter against his body. He was feeling the back of her dress and moving his fingers down to her well-rounded ass. She was so soft and so feminine.
His cock responded to those feelings, to those erotic sensations.
She tried to push against him, but he refused to budge. Then she eased herself backwards. The man's desk was perfectly neat. There was a blotter there and some pens that were lying next to it, but nothing in her way as she eased herself back onto the desk.
The girl looked up at him, wanting him to follow her backwards onto the desk.
He climbed on top of her and pressed his body down against her body. Then his lips brushed lightly against her lips. "Is this what all the girls in the college are like?"
"Oh, Professor," she said, giggling a little bit. "You say such things."
She reached to her side and unzipped her skirt. Then she wriggled out of it. He was aware of something slippery next to him and when he reached down he saw that she was wearing a shocking pink slip. When she saw the expression on his face, she said, "I have a bra to match."
"Come on," she urged him. "Get out of that suit. Get comfortable."
He looked toward the door of the office and then said, "But, the... uh... "
Before he could express the thought in any more coherent terms than that the girl said, "Why do you think I took the last appointment of the day? And why do you think I locked the door when I came in?"
He hadn't noticed that, but now as he looked at the handle of the door, he saw that the latch was in a horizontal position, meaning that it was locked. He turned back toward the girl.
"Come on," she said as she peeled off her sweater. "Get comfortable."
She slipped off her sandals as well and then she was wearing her satin slip and her satin bra.
The girl kept on running her hands over her own flesh and feeling herself up, exciting her flesh as she did so.
Johnson tossed his jacket off and then untied his tie and tossed that onto the floor as well. He pulled down his pants and tugged them off over his shoes. Then he was standing in his shirt and his undershorts. He smiled nervously at the girl and looked at the door once more.
He looked down at the girl with such a guilty expression on his face, that she said, "You're doing this because I want you to do it. Okay? Can you accept that?"
Then he unbuttoned his shirt and climbed on top of the girl. He could feel the satin fabric sliding next to his flesh. It was so soft and so sexual that he thought he would cum just from rubbing against her. Here was a nice girl, a college girl, and she wanted all the sex she could get.
"It worries me that... uh... " He stammered, not knowing just what he wanted to say.
"There's nothing to worry about, Professor. I don't want any relationship or anything."
He blushed. The more the girl said, the more upset he was becoming.
In spite of the fact that he was a man with male sexual desires, he was also a father with the fears of a father. When he saw this girl acting in such a brazen fashion, it disturbed him, knowing that his daughter might do the same.
"Besides," she said with a little laugh. "I take the pill."
"Okay, damn it." The man snapped those words out. The girl didn't understand the reason for his suddenly gruff behavior. But, she wasn't given a chance to respond.
He tossed her legs up and pushed her satin slip up her legs. Then he tugged her panties down with great speed and skill and he tossed them onto the floor. When he spread her legs up in the air, then her slip was pushed all the way up to the waistband.
While the man was doing that, the girl reached around behind her and took off her bra. She wanted to reveal her breasts to him. She was quite proud of them.
"Play with my tits. Come on, play with them. That always gets me wet and ready."
He reached both hands down to her tits and quickly wrapped his thumb and forefinger around each of the nipples. He pulled very hard on the flesh of her tits and dug his nails into the already excited flesh. He saw how quickly her tits grew erect and firm.
Rubbing his thumbnail on one side of each tit and his index fingernail on the other side he was almost trying to saw through the delicate flesh of the nipples.
"Not so hard. Not so hard," she cried out, trying to push his hands away.
"I thought this was what you wanted, Melissa," he hissed at her.
Her eyes went wide. She was startled by the gruff tone of voice that he used just then. "Dr.
Johnson, I don't want you to hurt me. I don't want you to do it like... "
"Okay," he said, pulling his undershorts down and revealing his stiff erection. "Ill just do it to you and get it over with." He was already positioning the head of his cock against her pussy lips.' "Wait, Dr. Johnson," the girl said, tears forming in her eyes. "I didn't want you to think that I was just some kind of whore who wanted you to slam my pussy."
"Then, what did you expect me to think when you came across like that, young lady?"
The head of his cock was between the moist lips of her labia. He could feel the warm flesh wrapping itself around the flared head just the way some warm clay might wrap itself around the shape of the cock head.
He pushed a little to the right and to the left and then he found the direct path that he wanted. He pushed forward and shut his eyes as he felt the pussy flesh spreading open and leaving a path for his thick cock to enter. The girl wrapped her legs around his waist.
Then the man slid all the way into her and he felt the soles of her naked feet pressing down against his bare ass cheeks, urging even more of him inside of her body.
And then he slammed all the way into her body and he could feel the pussy flesh that spread open for him. His balls were right up against the soft flesh between her legs.
He pulled back a little bit and the flared head of his cock was massaging against the delicate flesh of the cunt. Then he started to move in and out of the hot hole.
The girl was moaning and grunting as she felt the cock working against her pussy flesh. She reached her arms up and tried to pull the man's face to hers so that she could kiss him, but he resisted.
He was fucking her, thinking that she was a shameless whore, and yet he wouldn't kiss her now. He felt too much contempt for her lack of morals even as he thrilled over the feeling of her pussy flesh.
Although he had always considered himself a liberal when he was younger, having a daughter who was at an impressionable age, a daughter whose welfare was his first concern, made him feel differently about matters. As a man he was fucking Melissa's cunt. But as a father he hated Melissa.
And so his prick slammed very fast into her body and men he felt his balls drained suddenly of their juice.
The girl grunted as she felt her pussy flesh clasping tight in response.
Ivy didn't realize that she was moving on a collision course with her father.
It was now a little bit more than a week after her father had been through the incident in his office with Melissa. He was tense from that. His daughter had just started to talk about colleges. Of course she could have gone to the college where he taught without paying any tuition, but he was concerned about giving her a chance to grow up and expand.
He had told her the previous month that it might be a better idea for her to go to a college that was out of town. He thought that it might be time for him to cut the apron strings that held her to him.
He expected protests from the girl since she had already told him that she had no desire to leave the house, but she did not protest.
Suddenly the girl started to think of her father. Was he making this suggestion because he wanted to have a chance to live his own life? The girl was growing up and beginning to realize how demanding she had been of her father's time and attention, beginning to realize that since he was a man with his own needs and longings, he wanted some privacy.
Her only response had been, "Well, certainly somewhere in the Northeast."
The man was surprised by that. "At least you'll be able to visit home often."
"Yes, Daddy," she said. "And besides, all of the best colleges are still here."
"Yes," he agreed, sounding a little distant because of her willingness to leave him.
The tension was growing between them. He looked at his daughter and wondered about her thoughts. Would she grow up to be just like Melissa, longing for cocks to fill her up?
He felt distant from his daughter for that reason. The girl sensed the distance, but not the reason.
She was growing more and more self-conscious about the passion she felt for her father. Was that the reason that the distance was there, she wondered?
And then it was the day. Then it was the day that everything exploded in a fit of passion and frenzy.
It was only one day that changed everything, one series of incidents.
The girl only had a half day of school that day since it was the last day before her spring vacation.
She was wearing a lovely checked skirt and a beige blouse and a light sweater over her blouse because of the very slight chill in the air.
It was a beautiful day. She knew that her father would be home grading test papers since he had just given his class their mid-term exam the previous day. The class wouldn't get the test results until after the spring recess was over.
She hurried home, wanting to change out of these domes and take advantage of the nice weather.
The weekends had been miserable and the girl had been stuck indoors in school during the weekdays when there had been a few bits of pleasant weather in the air.
When she walked into the front door of the big old house she put her books down on the table that was to one side in the hallway. Then she looked into the door of the front room that was just beyond that table. That was the room where her father had his office at home.
There were test papers strewn all over the table and he seemed to be in the middle of something.
But her father wasn't there. Just then she became aware of a sound from upstairs.
It was the sound of the water running in the bathroom right over her head. She decided to surprise her father. She didn't call out from the bottom of the steps as she might have done.
Instead, she went up the steps as quietly as she could. She saw that the telephone was pulled across the hallway and was right outside of the bathroom door. The bathroom door was open just a slight crack. She figured that was to let her father hear the phone.
She paused in the hallway and felt a cold flush rushing over her body. She knew the layout of the bathroom. She knew that if she peeked into the crack she would be able to see her father lying in the bathtub. For a long moment she remained in the hall.
The water kept on running in the bathtub. She heard it finally stop.
She peeled off her sweater and tossed it onto her own bed in her own room and then she turned back toward the hallway. How much harm would there be? She wondered about that. What harm would there be if she got a chance to see her father's naked body?
For years she had been touching herself, stroking the insides of her pussy and enjoying the thought of her father's imagined nudity. Now, perhaps, she would actually see him!
And, with that thought in mind, with the notion that she just wanted a quick glimpse, she moved back toward the bathroom door. She crouched along the crack that was standing open and she peeked through there to see if she could see into the room.
Yes. She had a view of one side of the bathroom. She had a view of the edge of the bathtub and of her father's head as he moved a little to one side. But, the rest of the view was blocked. The half of the bathtub closer to her was covered with a shower curtain.
She was in an uncomfortable position because she was squatting. The position was also uncomfortable because she could feel the heat of her pussy flesh right up against her panties.
And she knew that she wasn't going to leave the position until she saw her father's cock. That was the goal of the luscious sixteen-year-old girl. It was curiosity she told herself. But, at the same time she knew that it was lust more than it was anything else.
Then, knowing that her father was naked so close to her, knowing that there was such a good chance that she would see his nude form, she started to work her fingers against the fabric of her panties. The panties were pulled taut because of the squatting position she had assumed. When she pressed her fingers against the cloth she could feel her cunt lips through the thin layer of fabric. She could feel the heat and the moisture.
And then she saw some movement behind the plastic curtain. The man was letting the water drain out of the tub. He was starting to stand up and was reaching for the towel which was folded on top of the sink.
Lying in the tub, Johnson had started to think about the beautiful girl who had come into his office the previous week. He was thinking about the dismay he had felt over her lustiness and yet he was also thinking about the wonderful sensation of having her pussy flesh around his cock.
He really had missed the pleasure of having a cunt to fuck..
His prick was hard because of the thoughts and as he stood up from the tub he saw that it was standing up long and stiff in front of him. He had no idea that his daughter was watching the action from behind the slightly open door of the bathroom.
He reached down and started to work his fingers up and down along the length of his cock. His prick was fully erect in an instant. He was drying himself with one hand as he pumped on his meat with his other hand. Then he stepped out of the tub just far enough so that he could sit on the edge of the tub. His cock was standing up hard and long.
With his hand wrapped around the base of his own cock, he was stroking up and down along the engorged meat. He squeezed on it and pulled on it as he continued to stroke it.
He spread his legs and felt his ball hanging down against the cold porcelain of the tub.
Then he shut his eyes and leaned his head back. He was pretending that the beautiful girl from his college class was on her knees in front of him, on her knees sucking his dick.
He imagined that instead of feeling his fingers he was feeling her mouth.
Then he took his fingers from around the length of his cock and he licked them with his tongue so that they were wet. It was something that his wife used to do for his pleasure while she prepared him for fucking her. Once his fingers were wet and slick, he put them back on his cock.
And so his fingers were sliding up and down, fluidly on his dick, as he imagined that it was someone's mouth. Yes. The black-haired girl. The girl who had offered herself to him. She was so sluttish, so beautiful. And she was hungry for cock. That was who he pictured.
But, as he continued to stroke his prick, as he continued to keep his eyes closed and to try to get the projector in his head to throw the images onto the screen that was the inside of each eyelid, the picture became vague, distant.
There was another image that was stronger. He saw his daughter on her knees in front of him.
He imagined that he could see the beautiful blonde hair moving back and forth as the girl's sensual lips slid over the stiff length of his erection. He imagined that he could feel his daughter's tongue sliding against the sensitive flesh on the bottom of his cock.
When he imagined that he thrilled at the thought. His daughter! Yes! How wonderful!
But, at the same time he felt dirty because of the thought. He was imagining his daughter giving a blowjob when that was the very thought that he feared so much. He felt guilty!
The pangs of guilt and shame swept over his body! He could feel the perspiration on his chest.
But his cock was still just as hard and insistent as it had been. He kept his eyes shut, trying to reach his orgasm. He just wanted to get it over with, so that he would be freed from these passions.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, looking in where the door was open a crack, his daughter was squatting down. She had pulled her skirts up. She felt safe because she saw that her father's eyes were closed. She started to frig herself with wild abandon.
She felt so naughty! She felt so dirty! She was watching as her father jerked off.
And the heat was coursing through her body. She could feel the tingling that ran up the length of her spine and then back down to her pussy slit. She had to reach her fingers into her panties in spite of the fact that the panties were pulled so tightly around her ass cheeks due to her position.
Her fingers rubbed up and down against her cunt lips and she could already feel the moisture that was oozing, boiling out of her body. She wished for a chance to pull down her panties, but she wouldn't take that chance because she didn't want to shift her position. What if her father were to open his eyes, finish what he was doing, and catch her at what she was doing? Although that was on her mind, she was also thinking that she didn't want to miss anything. She wanted to watch her father. She would never, she imagined, get another chance to see his prick in action.
This was the penis, the forbidden organ, about which she had been dreaming all through her innocent years. This was the body that she had longed for.
And the man looked just as good naked as she had hoped he would. She was not at all disappointed.
Even as she thought of the pictures from the sexy women's magazines, the pictures that one of the girls in school had passed around, that were centerfolds in the magazines that her divorced mother received, the girl knew that her father stacked up well with those.
The man had a powerfully defined chest and a good, thick crop of golden hair covering his body.
Perhaps his belly was just starting to get a paunch, but certainly less so than other men his age.
And his penis! What a cock it was! It was certainly as long as she might ever have wished it to be.
She concentrated on looking at the cock. She wanted to memorize just what it looked like.
With her eyes glued right to the cock she pushed one finger between her cunt lips and wriggled it around inside her body, searching for the little love button that would trigger her excitement. She pressed the tip of her finger against her clit. She could feel the elastic waistband of her panties ripping because of her position. And then she could feel a sensation that was inside her body. She was cumming.
There was an uncontrollable tremor in her body. The girl bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. But she shut her eyes. This was a moment when she was no longer in control.
And then she felt herself losing her balance. She was squatting down and was in a very tenuous position. She knew that disaster was at hand. She knew just what was going to happen. She could see the disaster occurring. But there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She tipped to the side and her body crashed against the bathroom door, pushing it all the way open.
She hit her shoulder against the tile floor of the bathroom. Her skirt was still up and her fingers were still inside her panties. Her one finger was still inside her pussy slit.
The man certainly knew immediately what had happened. His daughter had been spying on him.
She had watched him jerking off. And she had been playing with her own pussy while she watched.
For a long moment he was so stunned that he was unable to move. He was frozen in that position.
He could feel the confused reactions stirring, boiling up in his body.
And as he looked at the girl and she looked up at him his fingers remained around the base of his stiff cock and her fingers remained at her pussy lips. He was completely exposed, completely naked. He could have reached over for a towel, but he was too shocked to move that far.
The silence in the room was palpable. It lasted for one minute and then for two and then for three.
CHAPTER THREE
Then the girl moved. She started to scramble to her feet.
As soon as she moved, that seemed to trigger a response in her father. He jumped up from his position and landed on her so that she was crushed, once more, against the tile floor.
"Father!" she cried out, stunned by the hot feeling of the head of his cock brushing past her bare thigh.
"Father? I'm no father to you, you little... " He seemed like a volcano that was set to erupt. The eruption came with the word, "Slut!" And that was only the beginning.
"You harlot! You tramp! What were you doing? What filthy... ? No! Don't say it. I know what you were doing."
Tears streamed down the girl's cheeks. It had all seemed so innocent such a short time before. She had been looking at her father through the crack of the bathroom door. She had finally seen his naked body and was treated to the added spectacle of seeing him masturbating.
Now, as she struggled with the naked man, she felt his hands pushing her skirt up as she herself had pushed it just a few moments earlier. She tried to push his hands away from her but she wasn't strong enough. He was too determined, too angry to be subdued.
He had her pinned to the floor of the room. Then he started to rip at her skirt.
"You'll tear it. Daddy, please don't... " That was as far as the girl got when the man hissed and slapped her hard across the face. She was silent.
She watched, with sobbing countenance as her skirt was ripped from her body.
Then the man was pulling at her panties.
She felt her father's large and powerful fingers rubbing right up against the lips of her pussy. She tensed up even more than she had been. She had just been frigging herself and her cunt lips were quite wet. She knew that the man was feeling that moisture.
"Is this what you do for all the boys in school? Do you expose yourself in front of them and get them all excited so that they'll stuff you full of cock, you whore?"
"No! Don't say that. I'm a good girl. I am. Daddy, I am a good... "
He practically choked her. "Whores! That's all you kids are good for. You're a whole generation of whores and all the boys in school are practicing to be pimps."
The girl's lips were moving, but no words were coming out. She didn't know what else to say. She didn't know how else she could defend herself. Her struggles were over for the moment.
"So, you don't even want to fight me off," the man said as he ripped off his daughter's panties. "You want it. You're all wet down there, just like the hungry nympho slut you are."
Her sobs were so soft that the man couldn't even hear them in the small room that was filled with shouting. Her sobs were so soft that he could only feel them as he pressed against her body.
She could feel his long and hard cock that was pressing against one of her thighs. It was the same cock she had watched him pumping through the crack in the door.
Now, she was threatened by that hot rammer up against her soft flesh.
He pulled at her blouse and tore that off as well. She was left with only her bra on. He started to fuss with the hooks in the back of that and ended up pulling it half-way off, losing patience with the process. But as he knocked her around on the floor, it fell off all the way and was soon just dangling from one of her arms so that, for all intents and purposes, she was naked.
His body was rubbing against her nude body and she could feel how fresh his flesh was, just out of the bath. He could feel how smooth and soft her body was since her youthful sensuality was so unblemished and virginal. She had never even been naked with a boy.
But, that was something that her father chose not to believe at that moment. His inference from seeing his daughter frigging herself and peeking in on his nudity was a severe one. He forgot about the fact that he had been aware of all of her comings and goings over the previous year and that there had been little, if any, chance that she had been acting in any sort of shameful manner. He assumed the worst. His fears made him assume the worst.
And so, he was acting on that. His naked body was pressing her naked body down on the floor of the bathroom. She could feel the impression of the tiles that pressed against her flesh. She could feel the force of his powerful form that pushed her down from on top.
"Here," he snarled as he moved up along her body. "This is what you want."
She opened her eyes and saw that her father was lying in quite a different position. His cock was right over her face. He rubbed his dick back and forth along her mouth and urged her to open her lips. "Take it, you little slut. You're probably an expert at this."
The girl tried to turn her face to the side, but the man grabbed her by the hair and forcing the cock head against her lips, pushed his prick right at her lips.
"Come on!" he reached over and grabbed a handful of one of her tits.
He pressed his fingers mercilessly against the flesh and then he dug his fingernails into the tender flesh of the nipple. The girl screamed out. She couldn't help it.
And when her mouth opened in the scream, she only managed to get half of the sound out before it was stifled by the intrusion of the thick prick that was shoved forward into her face.
She could feel the pressure of the hot steel bar that was pressing her tongue down in her mouth even as the flared head of the cock was rubbing against the roof of her mouth.
The big head of the cock pressed against the back of the girl's throat.
He slapped her sharply across one cheek as he hissed, "No teeth or all of them go down your throat."
She shivered all over. This wasn't her father on top of her. This was some madman.
He tried to push more and more of his cock into her throat, but her throat muscles naturally repulsed the invasion. She wasn't used to such things. She wasn't prepared for such things.
The girl could feel the way her natural reaction pushed the cock back out of her mouth.
With the cock head sliding back along her tongue, she thought the man would be angry. But then he pulled his prick all the way out of her mouth. "Lick it. Come on."
She stuck out her tongue and licked it all over. She had the sense that her father was thinking about something Then he pulled away suddenly. He was acting in a totally erratic manner. Or, at least, he wasn't clarifying his actions to the girl. He slid down her body and she could feel the wetness that she had just left on his penis as it brushed along the middle of her body.
And then she could feel the head of the cock right up against the lips of her pussy. She tried to press her legs together, but she felt her father's powerful hands pulling her open, spreading her apart.
The head of the cock was right up against the pussy slit. The man pushed the flared head between the lips of the vagina and then he pulled them open with his fingers so that he could actually get the big mushroom head into the tight opening.
It felt to him as if his cock head were wrapped in warm clay that was molding itself to the shape of the flared glans. He moved to one side and then to the other. He was spreading her open.
Then he pushed forward into her body and he could feel the interior pussy lips start to spread. He could feel the clitoris that was brushing against the head of his cock even as the head of the cock was brushing and exciting the sensitive clitoris.
And then he was aware of the pressure right in front of his cock. He was aware of the wall of flesh that was guarding the girl's virginity. For a moment he paused and looked into her eyes. Their eyes met, but hers were too blurred with tears to see.
His lips started to move. But this time he was the one who moved his lips and was not capable of saying anything. He hadn't thought that the girl would turn out to be a virgin. In fact, he could hardly believe that she was actually a virgin.
He had assumed the very worst of her when he caught her at the door of the room.
Now that he was inside her, he started to think. He tried to think sensibly, but how sensibly could the man think with his penis already inside the pussy of his virgin daughter?
Could he pull out of her? Could he pretend that none of this had happened?
No! It would be impossible. It would be ridiculous to even try. And as he felt his cock pulsing and throbbing he knew that his penis, stiff as it was, without any conscience of its own, would surely not permit him to just pull out and stop pursuing his lust.
And then, just as if his cock were leading him rather than his mind, he pushed forward. He knew that the pressure would rip right through her delicate hymen and take her virginity, but he didn't care. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted all that warmth and sexuality for himself.
The girl could feel the ripping sensation. She could feel the puling that was followed by the stinging that was followed by the heat of her virgin blood being spread up along into the depths of her cunt. She could feel that sizzling sensation that was coating the wads of her vagina. When the flared head of the cock pushed forward it forced the hot blood all the way along the walls of the girl's previously virgin pussy.
It was quite a jolt for her all at once like that. It was a shock to her system.
There was the flesh in the depths of her pussy, flesh that had never been touched before, that had never had any contact with anything before, because until a matter of seconds before that instant, it had been protected by her virgin sheath.
But, the strange fury that had possessed the man knew no kindness, no gentle treatment.
He pushed all the way into the girl all at once. Even when he felt the moist flesh being pulled by his cock because it wasn't wet enough, because it wasn't relaxed enough, he continued to push forward into the girl's cunt. Then, as soon as his cock slammed against the very depths of her pussy, he pulled back a little bit.
She cried out. She felt as if the man were pulling her inside out. He only had her virgin blood for lubricant as he started to fuck in and out of her. He ignored the sound of her cry. He ignored everything except the longing in his cock that made him start to fuck in and out of her very wildly.
He slammed forward and pulled back.
Eventually the moisture deep in her cunt, the moisture that had started to dry up out of fear even though it had originally been there due to her own frigging, started to return to the flesh because of the friction of the big cock.
The girl could feel the pleasure of the fucking position. She could feel the thickening of the flesh deep inside her cunt. The walls of her pussy were growing thick, like sponges that were filling up with thick liquid, liquid that did not flow as easily as mere water when those sponges were squeezed by the invading pressure of the cock, but liquid that oozed out of her body.
And as the flared cock head was rubbing up and down against the walls of the pussy, the pussy walls were rubbing against the sensitive flesh of the cock.
Each time the man pulled back he could feel the massaging against the flesh that was right underneath his cock head. Then when he pushed forward he could feel the tingling right against his piss slit.
He grabbed onto the girl's hips and pulled her into an upward position. He pressed his dick a little harder into her body and started to slam in one direction and then in another. His fucking strokes were turned, more and more, into slamming thrusts because the thickening of the pussy walls was creating a narrowing of the fuck runnel. He could feel the walls of the hot hole wrapping themselves around his stiff penis as he continually fucked in and out of the hole.
And so he really slammed forward into the girl's body. The flared head of his cock was pulling back against her clit each time he pulled his dick back. Then the length of the shaft was rubbing right along her clitoris. She could feel the love button expanding because of the pressure.
The girl knew that she was nearing her orgasm and she tried to hold it off. She didn't want to cum.
Her father was so furious with her about everything that he had observed so far, her father had turned into a madman rapist, she was terrified of what he would think if she were to cum during this rape attack. And that very fear on her part was her biggest problem.
It was the fear that was churning up the walls of her cunt. It was that very fear that was making her pussy implode around the invading prick. And then the two of them were locked together.
He could feel his cock pulled into the cunt with great force.
She could feel the rushing thrust of the cock, as if it were the inevitable force of a river. And then she felt the balls moving against the tender flesh that was between her legs. It was such a continuous motion, the thrusting of the cock and the pressure of the balls rubbing against her flesh, that she thought the balls were going to push into her pussy along with the rest of the cock.
Meanwhile her cunt lips were clasping and pulsating around the base of the cock.
The balls were sending their load of juice up into the shaft of her father's cock. She could feel the additional pressure as the base of the cock expanded to permit the juice to speed up the length of the shaft. She was being spread open even wider just at the very moment that her own muscles were contracting and trying to get even tighter.
It was one inevitable force against another. His prick was being pressed and squeezed even tighter just at the moment when it was trying to expand even wider.
And so, rather than two simple orgasms, rather than merely permitting her cunt walls to collapse around his cock, and rather than merely letting his cock shoot, it was a matter of one force holding back the other. It was a matter of two explosions setting off a series of tremors, a series of pulsating, throbbing earth-jolting tremors.
His fingers gripped into her flesh. Every muscle in her body tensed up wildly. She could feel her legs and her arms stretching out as long as they could go.
And then, when he felt the power in his body beginning to subside, even though he knew that he was still cumming, he started to work his prick out of her body.
She shivered all over and so did he. Each little bit of his prick that moved along the sensitive flesh of her hot hole was rubbing and being rubbed and creating new waves of sensuality through his body. Finally his cock fell free of the grip of her cunt. But he was still cumming. He was still shooting and some of the creamy gism splashed right against her soft thighs.
As soon as she felt that her father's cock had fallen free of her hole, she clasped her legs together and tried to protect whatever shred of modesty was left to her.
But, the man, his cock messy from the mixture of juices that had filled her hole, was hardly finished with his daughter. His cock was still stiff and erect.
It was as though he had been saving up this orgiastic load of cum in his balls for years. Even though he had had sex over the previous years, none had been like this. This was the one he had been waiting for, the one he had been dreading and wishing at the same time.
Now that he was in the middle of it, he wasn't about to stop.
He mounted her face once again. The girl was stunned by that move on her father's part.
She started to stammer a protest, but could not find the words, could not even form one word. And then the cock was rubbing against her cheeks. She could feel the messiness that was on it.
"No-o-o-o!" she finally grunted in a weak voice mingled with a sob.
He grabbed her by the hair on her head, actually pulling some of it out of her head, and then he pressed the side of his cock against her lips. "You can lick it clean."
She thrust her tongue from her mouth, not daring to contradict or displease the man at that point.
Then she was working her tongue along the cock that was moving against the tip of her tongue.
He slid the tip of it around against her tongue, pressing the head of his cock against the tip of her tongue so that she was forced to taste the moisture that was oozing from it.
And then he moved his body up a little bit.
The girl had been able to taste his cum and her own cunt cream and the virgin blood that had all stained his cock. Now she was presented with the large balls, unusually heavy since he had just cum, right over her lips.
"Come on! Lick them also!" She opened her mouth as she heard that command.
Since the man was right on top of her, his left ball slipped right between her lips and then she brushed her tongue along the wrinkled flesh, feeling the slight hairs tickling her mouth muscle.
"Suck on that ball! Come on. Suck on your father's balls, you little slut."
She wrapped her lips around the ball and then she pressed her tongue against the bottom of the ball sac. She was letting it balance against her tongue and then she was rubbing it along the roof of her mouth. The man could feel his testicle being squeezed between the tongue and the roof of the girl's mouth. Then she slid her lips off the ball and she grasped a bit of the loose flesh in her teeth, nipping at it.
In spite of all that the man had done to her, she was careful to only take the loose flesh between her teeth. She didn't want to actually do any damage to the man.
Once she had pulled her lips completely off the ball sac, she thrust her tongue out of her mouth again and worked it over the side of the ball sac, pressing against the moist area of flesh that was locked between his balls and his thighs.
Suddenly she was doing this in a voluntary way. She found that she wanted to do it for the man.
She wanted to please him. She couldn't help herself. She didn't want to be blamed. But, she was enjoying the taste of her father's hot flesh.
Her tongue moved up behind the ball sacs and then it was working up and down against the moist flesh that was locked there. She kept on working on that flesh and then she felt her father pulling her by the hair once again. "Suck it. Take it in your mouth."
He pulled her face up toward the head of his cock. This time he didn't have to force her lips apart.
This time she willingly took the head of the cock between her lips.
She slid her lips forward, but found that the head of the cock was, once again, pressing against the very back of her throat before she even had half of the length of it in her mouth.
The girl just started to suck back and forth on the penis.
Ivy wrapped her fingers around the base of the cock and she started to work her fingers up and down against the flesh. She was jerking the man off into her mouth.
Because of the way her fingers were moving and the way the cock was moving at the same time, the girl could feel the moisture that she was sliding all the way down to the base of the cock.
Her lips moved forward and left a layer of moisture along the hard and hot flesh and then her fingers moved toward the base of the cock and spread that moisture all the way to the base.
Then her lips moved back and her fingers moved back at the same time. Because her fingers, wrapped around the hardness of the cock, were serving as an extension of her mouth, helping to spread the wetness that was there, the man was given the impression that the girl was sucking more of his dick.
But, meanwhile, she was trying her best to get more and more of the cock into her throat each time she moved it forward again. She could tell that it was inching forward against the back of her throat. Each time she pushed the head of the cock against the back of her throat she could feel the same pressure, but she knew that it was a pressure caused by a little bit more of the length of the cock, that it was a pressure which took a little longer each time. Her throat was getting used to the invasion of the penis.
And so, as she continued to suck up and back on the cock, putting a great deal of effort into what she was doing, putting a great deal of effort into trying to get the entire cock into her throat. That was a goal which might have seemed hopeless a short time before that.
But, as she continued to suck on the cock, she could tell that she no longer had enough room to keep her fingers wrapped around the base of the prick. She could tell that she no longer needed to jerk off the base of the cock. Each time she pushed her lips forward and felt the cock pressing along the length of her tongue, she could feel the thing pushing further back and she was aware that her lips were moving ever closer to the base of it.
Already, as the man worked his hips back and forth, in unison with her mouth movements, she could feel his heavy balls swinging and slapping against her chin. She could feel the curly pubic hairs that rubbed and tickled against her nose.
But she wanted to bury her face further into the pubic hairs. She could feel her father's hips moving with an even greater frenzy. The man was working himself back and forth against her face and finally he slammed all the way into her throat.
She could feel the balls pressed against her chin. She could feel the movement of the balls in their sacs. It was tickling her chin. The base of the cock was expanding, was pressing against her tongue.
She knew what was going to happen next.
For a strange moment she thought of pulling her lips back off the length of the cock. But. she didn't.
She knew that she wanted to have what was going to happen.
And then she felt the flared head of the cock flaring out even wider and she felt the juice that shot out of the head of it. splashing, sizzling against the back of her throat.
She could feel the hot gism that oozed down her throat. As she tried to swallow the hot cum she could tell that she was urging even more of the juice out of the cock. She could tell that because of the way the balls kept bouncing in response each time she swallowed.
And she could even feel the hot cum that was rushing up the length of the cock.. It pressed against her tongue before it finally splashed down into her throat.
Finally she gagged. The muscles in her throat pressed against the cock head a little too hard and tried to push it out of her mouth. The cock slid back, but the man was able to remain in his daughter's mouth, not giving her the freedom she longed for at that time.
She couldn't swallow anymore because her throat was rebelling. Her mouth overflowed with hot male cum. It was dripping from her lips. When her father finally pulled his cock out of her mouth, her face and her lips and chin were all a mess due to the white cream that dribbled there.
Tears streaked her cheeks and watered down the cock juice on her chin.
CHAPTER FOUR
Johnson jumped up and rushed out of the bathroom, suddenly painfully aware of the things he had just done to his daughter. He couldn't face her. He didn't want to face himself.
He went into his bedroom and shut the door tight. Then he just sat on his bed for a long time. Then he ended up lying on his bed. He didn't want her to come in. He didn't know what he would say to the girl. Yes. It was true that he had found her frigging herself while she had been looking at him.
But, then he had gone crazy.
How could he explain his actions? How could he justify all he had done?
Stripping the girl, right on the floor of the bathroom, he had fucked her, taking her cherry, and then he had forced her to lick his dick off and to suck him.
And by the end of it the rape had turned into mutual sex. The girl had willingly served him.
He hid his face in his own pillow. How could he face the fact that his daughter, the only thing he had in the world, the only one he loved in the world, had sexual feelings of her own? It was a fact of life. It was something that all parents must recognize eventually, but it had been tossed in his face in such a brutal, such a terribly brutal manner, that he couldn't stand it. He just wanted to curl up and hide his head like an ostrich.
If he opened the door of his room, even to get something to eat, even to go to the bathroom, he might see his daughter. He might have to confront her. He might be asked to explain something, to have to face up to his own actions.
And so he stayed where he was. He didn't know what his daughter was doing, and although pangs of worry jolted through his body, fears of what she would do, the full knowledge that she needed his love and support now more than ever before, he couldn't face up to it.
When he had left the bathroom, the girl shivered and remained lying there on the floor, sobbing, for a long moment. Then she picked herself up and rushed back to her room.
Only a thin wall separated her from her father. But, in fact, there was more than that separating the two of them. She also feared any prospect of seeing her father or having to talk to him. Would he come to the door of her room?
There was a small bag in her closet, the large suitcases all being in her father's closet. She took it out of the closet and started to stuff things into the bag.
Tears started down her cheeks again. Where was she going? She didn't know.
All she knew was that she had to get out of the house. She had to get away from her father. She fit all the clothes that she could into the suitcase. And then she paused for one slightly sensible moment and wondered what she would do for money.
She had eighteen dollars saved up in a jar on top of her dresser. She took that money. Then she crept out of her room, pleased to see that her father's bedroom door was still closed. She moved quietly, not knowing what his reaction would be. Then she went down the stairs. She knew that he often hid money in his Latin dictionary on his desk in the front room. He chose that book because it was so rarely consulted by anyone.
Flipping through the dictionary her heart sank until she came to the back cover and discovered mat there was money inside the flap of the back cover. There were two twenty dollar bills. At least mat would be something. She had less than sixty dollars with which to go to New York.
Why New York? She was in Pennsylvania. It seemed like a reasonable distance. And it seemed to the girl that it would have been pointless for her to go anywhere else. There were more people in New York, more opportunities. Opportunities for what? She tried not to think about that.
And so she went directly to the bus terminal, wondering if her father would follow her. She was running over various scenes in her head. What if... What if... That was the way each of the scenes would begin. And they would always lead to the best possible ending.
What if her father came after her and found her at the terminal and told her that he begged her forgiveness for what had happened and told her that it would never happen again? She could return home with him and pretend that she had never been raped on the bathroom floor.
But, she knew that wasn't the truth. She knew that she would never be able to forget the rape and she would never be able to forget the pain and torment that went along with it.
What if, she wondered, her father came after her and told her that he wanted to be her lover, that he wanted her to live with him as his wife? She shivered at that thought because it was something for which she secretly longed. No! She must put it out of her mind.
And yet, she imagined the romance. If only her father could make love to her in place of the cruel rape. Tears came to her eyes. It was the most hateful action her father had ever performed.
What if she went off to New York and became successful and then came back to the town? But, here she paused, she didn't even know what she would do in New York. She always heard her father telling her that New York was very expensive. How expensive, she wondered?
She didn't know what she would do when the sixty dollars ran out. Perhaps she would call her father, collect, and give him a chance then to reconcile himself with her.
Yes! That was the solution. She convinced herself that she was only going to New York to throw a scare into her father due to what had happened between them. She convinced herself that she was going to call her father in a few days and tell him that she wanted to come home. They would have a tearful phone conversation and he would want her back.
She knew that he loved her. She smiled to herself. It would all be okay again.
And so she bought a ticket for New York and waited in the bus terminal. Perhaps her father would show up? But, that was ridiculous. How would he know that she was at the bus terminal.
Finally it was time for the bus to leave. She felt a sinking in her breasts and a terrible dread that ran through her body. She was actually going to go. But, she felt she had to go. She couldn't just turn around and go back to her father then.
And so she was on the bus that was traveling out of town, along the highway.
It was a long and slow bus ride with many stops. It was early in the morning when she arrived in New York and as she got out of the bus terminal there was a dawn haze over the city which gave it a strange look. Of course there were a few people out and about because this was New York, the city that never sleeps. But the regular denizens of Times Square were all gone. Even the most desperate hookers and pimps were asleep.
This was a strange hour. There was no business for the sex shops. People who had been doing drugs, who had spent the whole night in discos, were just on their way home, having left still other people at the discos still dancing away even later.
And then there were the people who worked in early jobs, people who had to be on duty at one place or another at six or seven in the morning. They were already bustling, refreshed after a full night's sleep. They were on their way to work.
This was the world of New York that greeted Ivy as she stepped out of the terminal.
She started to walk uptown, simply because there were more people walking uptown. At the next corner she was a little distraught at the sex shops and movie theatres that she was passing, but as she got to the following corner and saw a hotel she knew she didn't want to go further.
It seemed to her as if the entire city were made up of these same things. She looked up Eighth Avenue as far as she could and she could see the same sort of neighborhood.
She was too exhausted to go anywhere else.
She had not been able to sleep on the bus. She was sitting next to the window and there was an old lady in the seat next to her, an old lady who had fallen asleep immediately when the bus left.
Ivy could scarcely move in the cramped seat and her thoughts were much too heavy to permit her to sleep. It was a terribly restless night since she hadn't even thought to bring anything along for reading matter. And she kept thinking about sex. She kept remembering what had happened with her father and she kept shivering in reaction to that.
It was something that was dreadful to her and yet, at the same time, it was very sexual. Because she was thinking about that, she found herself pressing her legs together and trying to hold back the moisture that was there. She rubbed her thighs hotly.
And there was no way, in that cramped seat, that she could get any release for those sexual tensions.
Now she just wanted to get into the first hotel she saw and the one just two blocks from the bus terminal was it. She had no idea what a hotel would even cost her.
As it was, after paying for her bus ticket and some candy in the bus terminal, she now had forty dollars left, not a great deal with which to experience New York City.
The desk clerk looked at her with weary eyes. "You want a room now?"
She nodded her head, feeling too nervous to speak in response.
"Well, our check-out time is noon. If you want to move into a room that's vacant now men I'll charge you an extra... Well, the room is fifteen dollars and I can let you have it for twenty."
Ivy took out one of the precious twenty dollar bills that she had stolen from her father's desk. The man took it and filled out the card for the room, pushing it across for the girl to sign.
"Check-out time'll be noon tomorrow," he said, never actually looking at the girl. Then he looked up as he asked, "Unless, of course, you want to pay for a second day now?"
"No," she said as she shook her head nervously from side to side.
"Didn't think so," he said, turning from her toward the boardful of keys as he chuckled, "But you better pay in advance or the door of the room will be locked until you do. You understand?"
The girl couldn't believe the way the man was talking to her. Desk clerks in hotels had never dared speak like that when she went on journeys with her father. But she felt much too timid, much too guilty to respond to the man. The thing the girl didn't realize was that this man had seen so many girls in so precisely the same circumstances that he already knew they were frightened and guilt-ridden, he already knew they were vulnerable.
But, if he was cruel in speaking to those girls it was not out of sadism, but because he also knew they were irresponsible. Living from hand-to-mouth they needed to save every penny they had and they were known to steal as well as to skip out on their rent.
If the girl's rent for the following day wasn't paid by noon that following day she would either be locked out of or strong-armed out of her room.
But, once she was in the room, she couldn't worry about that. She couldn't worry about anything except sleep. Anyway, she assured herself, wasn't she going to call her father as soon as her money ran out?
Her father, back in Pennsylvania, still hadn't been able to sleep. When he finally left his room, driven out by necessity and severe depression that made the room seem to close in on him, he discovered that his daughter wasn't in the house. It was late in the evening by then.
He sat and thought about where she could be. He got into his car, after leaving a note in the foyer telling his daughter that if she came home she should stay there and promising that he would not harm her in any way. He knew that he had to rectify the situation with her.
And then he started to drive around the town. It wasn't a large town, but it was a college town that had a great many hang-outs. There were young people everywhere. A young girl walking by herself late in the evening wouldn't have been that noticeable.
Each time he returned in the direction of his home, he went there stopped the car with the motor still idling, in front of his house and then went in to see if his daughter was home.
The man didn't know what his feelings were toward his daughter. Or rather, the one thing he knew for sure was that he had mixed feelings about the girl, very confused feelings.
At one instant he thought of his love for her, of her devotion for him, of the way she had cared for him and cared about him during the years since the loss of his wife. He thought of what a fine girl she was, loving and warm and affectionate to him always.
And tears clouded his eyes, tears that grew so thick he had to pull the car to the side because he could no longer see.
Then at another moment he would think about the way his daughter had been playing with herself as she looked in on him and anger rose within his heart.
After all he had done for her, after all the years he had devoted to her, she paid him back by being a stinking little slut with a hot pussy! When he thought that about his daughter he found that he was pressing down on the gas and speeding, zooming, threatening the other cars.
This anger, this hostility, this rage mat was within him was something new for the man.
More and more that was the emotion that was gripping him then. He kept saying to himself, "I have to keep myself in check. I'll stay in control. I won't go off the handle."
But even as he was saying that he knew that it was a lie.
If he had his. daughter then he wondered what he would do with her. How would' he treat her and how would she treat him?
And men an image appeared before him and he saw her in a cage, her arms bound to the sides of it and her mouth gagged. He reached in front of him and he fingered her cunt lips. His daughter tensed her body.
Moving his fingers up her body, he pinched each of her nipples in turn. She tried to pull away, but the bonds had her hands pulled taut at her sides.
Then he lit a cigarette very slowly, knowing that he was taunting her. He blew the smoke of the cigarette right into her pale blue eyes.
"You have the same blue eyes that your mother had. But your mother was a lady. She was not a slut."
"No, Papa," his daughter pleaded as his fantasy continued. "I'm not a slut."
He would make a move to slap her face and she would move her face back, showing what complete control he had over her. "You are going to feel the pain of my striking palm even when my palm doesn't even make contact with your flesh."
And she felt it. The power of the suggestion in his eyes, the nearness of his palm, all of that was enough to assure the girl that she felt whatever he told her he felt.
Then he calmly went back to puffing on his cigarette. He blew a little more smoke into her eyes.
She blinked and coughed a little. Then he brought the glowing red tip of the cigarette with in inch of one of her tits. The girl tensed her body backwards and the man moved the tip of the cigarette accordingly so that as soon as the girl relaxed her body and her breast moved forward, it would be the girl's movement itself that would inevitably result in the painful burning experience. Finally Ivy had to inhale. She couldn't help it.
And as she inhaled and as her breast moved outward and her nipple rose, she could feel the tip of the scalding hot cigarette pressing right against her nipple.
She cried out and wriggled all around. "Daddy! Oh, my Daddy! Please... "
"You're no daughter to me. I only made you to fulfill my sexual needs."
Tears were in her eyes. They were the tears of a loss of innocence. He had put them there. Even though this was only his fantasy, he knew everything his daughter would do and feel.
Then he played with the cigarette right next -to the other nipple. She teased him, moving the tip of the cigarette closer and further, time and time again.
She pressed the tip of the flaming thing against that nipple, very quickly, just so the girl gasped out, and then he brought it right up against the other nipple.
He kept on playing with the tits, back and forth and back and forth.
And then, suddenly, his hand knowing well in advance just what he was going to do, he brought the hand with the cigarette down to the girl's crotch. Her legs were spread because her feet were tied to the same sides of the cage as were her hands.
He made a move that seemed to indicate to the girl that he was going to bring the tip of the hot cigarette right up against one of the lips of her cunt, squashing it out against that most sensitive flesh of all, the flesh on her sex lips.
But, his fingers stopped barely a quarter of an inch from the lips of the girl's pussy. He held the tip of the cigarette right there, quivering, so close that it might touch accidentally.
Then he pulled her head back and spit in her face. The spit mingled with her tears.
"Whore!" he growled, sounding more like a grizzly bear than a man.
And then, moving his hand with as much force and as much certainty as he had used before, he quickly thrust it back up v, that be was now threatening her breast with the lit tip of the cigarette.
However, knowing that the same trick did not work twice, this time he didn't pause with the tip of the cigarette poised right next to the nipple, but pushed it directly forward and did grind out the lit end of the cigarette against one of her erect tits.
The sensation was so sudden and it was so electrical that it actually took the girl a long moment after the cigarette was snuffed out before she started to cry in pain.
"What do you want me to do, Father? What do you want me to be for you, Father?"
The girl was screaming during her tears and these were her questions.
And this is where Johnson's fantasy ended because he didn't know how to reply to her. He was no longer abusing her in some strange place with a strange cage, but was sitting at his kitchen table and sipping a cup of coffee that was making him nauseous, and eating a cookie, surprised to find it in his hand and surprised to find the bag empty.
Even though it had been his fantasy, he couldn't answer the question he had asked himself. If he had his daughter bound up and could torture and torment her into whatever he wanted her to be, could force her to do whatever he wanted to' do, what would that be?
It upset him to think that his daughter fit the definition of a slut and a whore. It upset him to think that she was not pure and might soon go the way of many of the girls he saw around the college campus, displaying themselves openly and wantonly.
But, at the same time he knew that he couldn't resist her natural sensuality!
He, himself, was guilty of destroying that very innocence that he sought to protect. In fact, he felt it was his responsibility to protect his daughter's innocence. He was from a background which told him that it was a father's duty to shoot any scoundrel who ruined his daughter.
Sipping his cup of coffee, Johnson wondered how he should take that. Did that means that his ancestors would have had him shoot himself for having committed that crime? Was he to play the role of prosecutor and condemned man at the same time?
It seemed that he would, and it seemed that was his problem at the moment!
He was brimming over with guilt over what he had done to his daughter, but he was also filled with hunger. He wanted to do it again. He wanted to do more to her!
And so, as he sat up and waited for morning to come, he was pulled in two directions at once.
When the morning was half over Johnson called the police and explained that he had reason to believe that his daughter had run away and that she hadn't been back home all night He then added in a soft voice, since he knew that the desk sergeant he was speaking to was someone who lived three blocks away from them in the small town, "Please. No one has to know about this. Okay?"
Then he thanked the man and hung up the phone.
But he had little faith with the police in that town. He went directly to the bus terminal. That was the way out of town and he had already determined that there was no place in town where his daughter could have stayed for the entire night.
He knew her friends and had already called their homes, said he was just doing a little checking up on his daughter and asked each of the mothers whether his daughter had been there the previous evening. He didn't want to arouse suspicion, but he figured that he was arousing suspicions that he was a little severe with his daughter and he didn't mind those. Each mother hedged a little and then told him that Ivy hadn't been the night before.
So, he went to the bus terminal and started to ask if he could speak to the staff members who had been on duty the previous night. It was later in the afternoon before he was finally able to contact someone who remembered seeing Ivy and who remembered having sold the girl a ticket to New York City. "She was such a beautiful girl I couldn't easily forget her," that older man said. "You must be awfully proud of her, sir."
But Johnson didn't hear those words. He was still hearing the death knell ringing in his ears and the sound of the clanger was "New York! New York! New York!"
He bought a ticket for the next bus and then, finding that it was three hours away, went back home and packed a suitcase. Then he stopped at his bank and took some money with him.
That was all he had time for. He was on the next bus, out on a wild chase after his daughter. But, would it prove to be a hopeless chase after his daughter? A hopeless chase through with lower depths of New York's seediest district, Times Square.
Where could a sixteen-year-old beauty have gone? What money did she have with her? Had his fears of her being a tramp in school actually caused her to turn to professional prostitution out on Eighth Avenue in Manhattan? And what would he do if he found her?
Would he want to kiss her and hold her to him? Or would he want to kill her for the shame she had brought upon his family? Wait! She hadn't brought anything onto his family yet. She hadn't brought anything at all on herself. Her only crime had been peeking at him in the bathroom.
His heart pounded loudly as his thoughts took this circuitous roller coaster ride and he realized that, indeed, he felt guilty. He felt that he was to blame for everything that might be happening to his daughter and that thought was like a dagger twisted in his heart.
The ride to New York was tedious and disturbing - the ugly underbelly of New Jersey, the smoggy tunnel under the river. Never before had the island of Manhattan seemed so ominous to him. He was traveling here because the island had become a dragon, a monster that was in the process of devouring his fair princess. But, he didn't know whether or not he would be going there to save the princess or to help with her destruction.
He was a very strange knight in armor, indeed and a strange journey was ahead of him.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Ivy woke up in the seedy Times Square establishment, the first thing she thought about was her stomach. She was hungry. The second thing she thought about was her money.
There was one more twenty dollar bill that she had and that was alt. As of noon the following day she would have to pay rent on the room for another day. She would owe another fifteen dollars. She had to spend no more than five dollars on food over the next two days.
She took a shower and then dressed. She felt refreshed, almost forgetting her problems. Then she went down to the street. It was very strange for her. She was wide awake now, just as if it were morning, when in fact it was the early evening when people were on their way home from work.
It was just a strange thing because of the way she had stayed awake the previous night.
She passed a pizza stand and then other food stands, but decided that it wouldn't be enough good food for the money. She would have spent two of her precious five dollar reserve for just two slices of pizza and one soda. Then what would she be able to eat the following day?
"You look like you're lost around here," a man's deep voice said.
She turned suddenly and was looking into black eyes and looking at a handsome face that had a little black curl hanging down in the middle of the forehead.
"You need any help around this neighborhood?" he asked the girl. "You can ask me."
"I... Do you know anyplace where I could get something to eat. . that would be filling and... you know, good for me, but wouldn't be... uh... " She blushed.
"You want someplace inexpensive?" the man asked. She noticed his warm and fatherly tone.
Although he was much too young to be her father, there was something confident about him. He was wearing a tan suit with a pink shirt and a deep brown tie. He seemed to be either Italian or Greek or perhaps Hispanic. He spoke with a smoothness and a deep beauty to his voice.
She nodded her head. She wanted something inexpensive, that was true.
"How long ago since you ran away from home, kid?" he asked her.
Her eyes went wide and she tensed up. "Are you with the police or something?"
He actually laughed out loud. "Oh, don't worry about that. Don't you worry about that."
"How did you know that I had run away from home? I mean, what am... "
"Because if you were just in for the day from your home in New Jersey." he said grinning broadly as he began to expound on his theory. 'Then you wouldn't be alone. They always travel in pairs when they come in from Jersey. And you would have brought enough money to make it through the day without looking around for someplace cheaper than the places on this block."
She swallowed hard and looked down at her feet, embarrassed of how transparent she had been.
"Would you like someone to talk to?" the man asked her in a kind way.
Tears filled up her eyes as she looked at the man. He looked so handsome to her. She felt as if she had just lost her father. The father who had been so kind to her, so good to her for so many years, had turned on her, had become vicious and sadistic.
But somehow this man on the streets of Manhattan was being kind to her.
He took her along for a hamburger and asked her a series of questions. She told him a little about herself and very little about her father. But she did admit that "something crazy happened" with her father. Something that made her leave home.
Of course the experienced man of the streets saw right through the girl's story. He knew just what she was talking about and he understood clearly that she had been through sex with her father.
Whether that sex was a rape or a relationship, he couldn't tell, but he did know that this was a helpless girl, a girl with no place to turn.
This was a girl he could use and sell as a hooker or... even as something more! If she turned out to be pliable and willing, he might be able to do much with her!
His name, he said, was Nero. It was a nickname, he told the girl.
He kept on gaining more and more of her confidence. Then he said, "You come up to my hotel room. Don't worry about a thing. I know the people at the desk of your hotel. I'll just have them send your things over to my place. And, don't worry, babe. I think of you like a daughter."
The man put his hands on hers and patted her hands to emphasize his warm feelings. Tears welled in her eyes as she asked, "B-but, I don't understand why you're so... "
"Please. Let me do this for you. Let's just say, I have a need inside me to help you."
"Oh, thank you," she said, leaning over the table in the burger restaurant and kissing him on the cheek.
He chuckled as he paid the check and then led the girl up a few blocks to where his hotel room was.
The clerk behind the desk there was just as apathetic as the one in the other hotel. He never looked up at Nero walked to the elevator with the young girl.
Then Nero went up to his hotel room, leading the girl. She did question the fact that the man who seemed to be so resourceful and so successful was living in such a seedy place, but she never spoke that doubt out loud. She merely followed him into the room which she thought would be a suite.
As soon as she walked inside, she saw the mess that was there. She saw the bed that was pulled down from the wall with the sheets all undone. She turned back and found that the man was blocking the door with his body and he was looking up and down at the girl's body.
"What is... ? Let me go. Let me leave this room," she asked, her voice cracking.
"Come on, girl," he said, pushing her forward in front of him. "I don't wanna hurt you."
"Yes, you do." She tried to run around the man and get to the door, but before she could open one of the locks on the door he grabbed her and lifted her off the floor.
Because he was so wiry, he didn't show the strength that he actually had in his muscles. But he demonstrated that strength when he lifted the girl up and tossed her on the bed.
"No!" she screamed out. "I'm going back to my father tomorrow. You can't... "
"Don't pull any of this shit on me!" he hissed, slapping the girl across the face. "I'm doin' you a favor. I am gonna help you get all set up here in New York "
"Set up!" Before she could say more, he was holding her in place and he had his lips pressed down against her lips. There was nothing at all romantic about this. He was pushing against her.
"Come on, babe. I know you already did it... with your daddy also, didn't you?"
"No! I... uh, how did you know that I... My father... uh... "
Nero was laughing at the girl's confusion, making her feel even further weakened by her situation.
Then he started to pull at her clothes and that jolted her out of her vague state.
She started to fight against him. She didn't know how she could have been so naive as to follow a man up to his hotel room when that man tells her that he'll look after her and see that no harm would come to her, but she had done it and now she had to fight her way out of it.
But, even as she started to fight, she knew that it was hopeless.
Nero was a powerful man and as he ripped her dress, the girl knew that she couldn't go out on the street without anything covering her breasts. She knew that the man had power over her. He made a point of ripping the bottom of the dress completely apart as well.
The girl was stripped to her bra and panties. As she squirmed against the man, she could already feel the hardness in the front of his pants, the hardness he was pressing against her body.
Then he pressed his fingers into her panties. He pulled and tugged on some of the pussy hairs that fringed her delicate cunt lips.
She cried out and tossed her head back due to the pain she felt coursing through her.
Then he pulled her arms up over her head and he clamped one metal brace around both of the wrists. The girl hadn't even realized it was there, but the metal piece was attached to the headboard of the bed. It was something that was left there and apparently it was something that the man made a lot of use of.
"If you want to fight me like a little vixen, you can waste your energy on-this."
And then the girl suddenly realized that she was attached to the metal headboard. The man no longer had to hold her in place. She was his prisoner by virtue of the metal cuffs that held both of her wrists up over her head. For a moment, she stopped moving because she realized that the man wasn't fighting her any longer, but was just standing back.
Nero was on the other side of the room and was undressing. Below his tan suit was an absolutely firm, swimmer's body. He had a hairy chest and since he was wearing nothing but a pair of black leather underpants almost everything was revealed.
His stiff bone was visible through the clinging leather fabric of the underpants.
"You don't understand, little one," he said, appearing very sinister as he dimmed the lights in the room and towered over her nearly nude figure. "I want you to use up some of that energy, to get rid of some of that hyperactivity, so that you're not quite so frisky and troublesome."
She didn't reply. She didn't know what she was expected to say to that.
But the man didn't care for a reply. He knew just what he was going to do anyway. Turning from the bed, he took a leather riding crop that was lying against one side of the dresser. At the end of the worn leather crop there was a loop of leather that dangled down. The two sides of the loop would slap against each other, giving an extra added twinge of pain to her body.
He slapped the riding crop against one of the girl's nipples.
She squealed out and arched her body up. Then the man laughed and he took a knife from the other side of the room. She shuddered with fear when she saw the man approaching with the knife, but he merely used it to cut off her bra and her panties.
"Perhaps you'd like me to make more use of it?" he asked, an evil rasp in his voice as he rubbed the tip of the knife against one side of the girl's left nipple.
She could actually feel her tit quivering against the cold metal of the knife's blade.
"You like to keep what you've got there, you'll cooperate with me."
"Please," she sighed in a voice that was no more than a whisper. "Don't."
"I don't want to hurt you and I don't want to mess you up," he said peeling the black leather undershorts down his legs as he worked on stretching out his penis that had been bunched up inside the sweaty black leather for such a long time. "I want to keep you as beautiful as you are. I can assure you that that's the way you'll be of greatest value to me... and to yourself. Do we understand each other?"
When the girl did not reply, the man picked up the riding crop once again. This time he slapped it sharply across the girl's other tit. She felt the pain coursing through her body.
"I asked you a question and when I ask a question of a girl who is nothing but a slave to me, I expect an answer to that question. Now, do you understand?"
"Nero, what do you mean by that, about my being a... slave?"
The riding crop sliced across her belly and slid viciously through her belly button. Her body doubled over and there was a terrible strain on her bound arms.
"I told you to answer me! And when you address me you will call me "sir!" Understand?"
He held the riding crop up in the air. It was poised and ready.
"Yes... sir," she said, forcing the words from her mouth as she looked up at him, almost hypnotized by the power of fearful pain that the riding crop held over her.
"Now," the man said with a cruel smile as he worked his fingers lightly over the length of his stiffening cock. "I'm gonna see how well you suck cock."
And the next thing the girl knew the man was right up at her shoulders. His legs were spread apart and he was basically trying to feed her his big, thick cock.
"Come on. Take this meat, girl." He forced it between her lips.
This time she couldn't use her hands to defend herself. She was fighting him off by moving her body from one side to the other. When he grabbed the riding crop, he slapped it across her thigh and she tensed up, gasping and crying out because of the pain.
"Cooperate. It'll be easier for you, girl." After the man said that he found that the girl wasn't moving around as he pushed his cock into her mouth. His stiff prick pressed her tongue down even as the flared head of it rubbed along the roof of her mouth.
And then the head of the cock pressed against the depths of her throat. He started to pull his joint in and out in her throat and he could feel the sensual liquid massage that he was receiving because of the way that the wet tongue moved against his prick.
The girl could feel the way she was gagging each time he pushed his cock into her throat, but that didn't matter too much. Since she was lying on her back, she was helpless. Even the pressure of her throat muscles pulling together couldn't eject the cock from her throat.
And so, in spite of all of her efforts, he was able to push most of his prick into the back of her throat, to press the flared head of his cock firmly against the back of her throat.
"Yeah, you know how to suck cock," he said with a snarl as he putted his dick from her throat.
She looked up at the man and choked a little bit. She didn't even want to beg for mercy, knowing that it would be useless.
Then she felt the man's fingers rubbing along her pussy lips. "I wanna see how tight you are down here. How many guys've been layin' you, girl? How many years've you been fuckin'?"
Suddenly the man's voice no longer sounded tasteful and refined. Now he sounded crude and vulgar to the girl. She was caught off her guard by that and disliked it.
He shoved one finger hard into her cunt and snapped, "Answer, if you know what's good for you."
"I... only had sex once... s-sir... and that was... yesterday with... "
"So your daddy raped you yesterday!" he laughed, once again knowing more than the girl felt he had any business knowing. How was he able to guess so much?
It was merely his experience with these runaway girls. He knew all of their stories by heart and he knew just the way to handle any of them. This one was a lot of fun for him to handle.
"I'm gonna get you ready so that you can earn a good living on the avenue."
"S-sir, I don't wanna earn a living on the... avenue. I wanna go home."
"Bullshit!" he snapped as he got into the right position and his cock was right up against the lips of her pussy. He was spreading her legs apart and poking into her.
"No-o-o!" she groaned as she felt the head of the penis pressing one of her cunt lips inward.
He slapped her across the face with his open palm and said, "You're here to please me.
Right now you're my slave-woman. No, you're not even that. You're still a girl. But you are my slave."
He then pressed the head of his cock between the cunt lips and he pushed his prick forward. He could feel the interior lips opening up a little bit, by then gripping around the head of his cock.
Turning his hips from left to right and back again he was pressing the head of it against the sides of the moist walls of the pussy. And then he started to push directly into her.
The flared head of the cock was spreading open the walls directly in front of the battering ram. He slid the full boner directly into her body and then relaxed his weight on top of her.
Then, with his chest crushing her breasts, he started to move only his hips. He was working his hips up and down and up and down again, moving his cock in and out of the hot, flared hole of the pussy. He slammed hard each time he pushed into her and then he pulled back almost all the way so that the back of the flared head of the glans was pulling against the tender and already over-excited clitoris.
He ended up getting up on his knees and lifting her hips so that they were almost resting on his lap.
When he did that the girl was pulled into a tautly uncomfortable position.
Her arms were very high and stiff over her head and there was no room for her to struggle.
Then he really started to slam his prick in and out of her. His cock was at a slightly different angle and so it was really hurting her when he pushed into her body.
She looked up and she could see the perspiration that was glistening on his chest.
He seemed to be breathing very heavily. He slammed all the way into the girl and said, "Wow, you're worth a fuckin' fortune and you're gonna make a fortune for me fuckin'."
Ivy could feel the hot juice that was shooting repeatedly into her steaming hole. She shut her eyes because the man's handsome face looked like the face of a demon hovering over her. She had an idea, nothing more than an idea, of what he meant by his remark, and that terrified her.
When the two of them had walked up Eighth Avenue, the man had tried to turn the girl's attention away from the girls on the street who were trying hard to sell their bodies. It all seemed so desperate. It all seemed to tawdry. But, even as she had walked past them, Ivy had the strange premonition that she would be among them.
She had had a premonition that she would be brought lower than those girls who were selling their bodies on Eighth Avenue, and yet she had followed Nero where he led her. It was almost as if she had been hired into this spot by fate, as if fate, had clasped these handcuffs around her wrists. Fate had done much to her. But it was a real man with a real cock who was shooting load after load of hot cum into the girl's pussy.
And what would follow? She wondered what would come next in this nether world she. had entered.
CHAPTER SIX
Johnson felt his in sides turning to stone as he walked up from the bus terminal into the seedy neighborhood that was Times Square. It was inevitable, he thought, that his daughter was somewhere within the confines of this area. Could he find her before it was too late?
And when, he wondered, would it be too late? He walked around the streets with a searching look in his eyes.
Of course, because he had a searching look in his eyes the girls on the street thought he was a potential customer. This made his journey through his own private inferno all the worse because he was constantly hearing the sweet voices of the loreleis beckoning him onto the rocks.
"Hey, mister, lookin' for fun?" one black girl cooed in his ear as she purposely brushed past him.
"No cover. No minimum. Topless girls. Come on in," a man shouted as if he were on a carnival midway.
"Black beauties. Tuinols. Valium. Acid. Speed." It was a tall black stud who walked along the street as if he were a zombie, constantly reciting that tedious litany to himself.
No one was really selling what they claimed to sell. The black stud had a few pills which he claimed were real and weren't. That way if a cop stopped him, he honestly had no drugs with him.
What could he be arrested for? Consumer fraud? Anyone willing to buy something on the street which they're told is cocaine probably deserves the Drano he'll be snorting.
As for the "No cover. No minimum," club, within five minutes of entering the place a man would be joined by a sexy girl, a girl who is hardly dressed but who will never put out for the man. She is too busy hustling drinks to hustle her body. She's into a better racket.
For three minutes of talk she will ask the man to buy her a drink. The drink will always be a small bottle of champagne, which is actually colored carbonated water.
Many of the girls wear diapers because they can't take out the time to go- to the bathroom between hustling drinks. The men usually put up a fuss when they get a bill for sixty or a hundred dollars, but the large and threatening bouncers are known to collect from everyone.
And as for the black hooker who promised him fun - well, even that's a different story. Does she consider it fun? She needs another twenty bucks to pay for her cold room. She needs money to pay for food. And most important of all she needs money to keep up her drug habit.
She's willing to shell out money for cocaine on the street and then snort whatever white powder she's given. She knows it'll kill her soon enough. Even now she's a little dizzy, a little vague about what's going on. Fun? She'll open her mouth and let the cock fuck the back of her throat. Whatever fun the man gets from her he might have gotten from a moist sponge.
And so Johnson explored the world that was laid before him. Somewhere within this quagmire was his daughter. Somewhere along these winding streets was the beautiful innocent he had driven from his home.
Then, as he was walking along a street that ran into Eighth Avenue, one of the blocks with a few theatres on it, theatres which were already closed up for the night, he saw that there was a girl walking in front of him. The girl's blonde hair was soft and straight and was hanging down her back.
It was hard to make out the clothes she was wearing, but it seemed like a simple skirt and a blouse, much the same clothes that his daughter might have worn.
He started to walk a little faster in following her. Could it be? Could he be so lucky? Was this his daughter walking ahead of him, heading back toward Eighth Avenue?
She sensed the tense footsteps behind her and she turned quickly.
It wasn't his daughter. The girl was clutching a Capezio bag to her breasts. She was a dancer from one of the Broadway shows and she had taken a little longer than the others to change back into her street clothes. When she saw the man who was following her, she turned quickly and started to walk very fast toward the avenue, stepping out into the street to hail an uptown cab as she did so.
The man watched the girl getting into the cab. How ironic. He was a threat on the streets now.
There had been a girl who had been frightened by his presence!
It was getting later and as time passed he was aware that the only people left on the streets were either those who were there for spurious reasons, to sell bodies, drugs or other sundries, or those who were there as tourists. Johnson moved from one shadow to the next.
And then he felt his -heart beating loudly. He saw a girl who was leaning in a doorway. Her blonde hair was tossed back behind her shoulders. Her breasts were accented by a street light as she turned.
It was Ivy! He was sure it was Ivy! He had seen her face - almost - in the shadows.
He moved toward her, trying to catch another glimpse of her and his eyes always on her.
"Hey, mister, lookin' for some action?" he heard the girl ask.
At that instant he was so certain that it was Ivy that he was about to slam his fist into the girl's face, snarling at his fallen daughter and not forgiving her for the filthy remark.
But then his eyes met the girl's eyes. She was a dyed blonde. She wasn't as young as Ivy was, although she was trying her best to look that young. Her black eyes had too much make up on them. Her lipstick was a light pink color that almost glistened in the dark.
The expression on his face was one of parental disapproval. It was the expression that was all prepared to greet his daughter. But as soon as he saw that it wasn't his daughter, his expression was a confused one, filled with sadness, wistful and distant.
He kept on staring at the blonde whore, as if staring at her would make her turn into Ivy.
"Okay, mister, if you ain't interested why don't you move along?" The girl's tone was unpleasant.
She didn't want to have to give up her spot in the doorway.
Finally, she moved out of the doorway, because he kept on standing there and staring at her. "If you try to annoy me, mister, I'll get somebody to - take care of you. You know what I mean?"
"No. I don't want to annoy you." His tone was flat, completely without emotion. "I'm interested in...
paying what you want and... going with you."
"Thirty bucks and you pay for the hotel room," she said in one breath, meeting his eyes.
"Sure," he said, ready to follow the girl. He still had his small carrying case at his side and he followed the girl around the corner to the hotel on West Forty-third Street where his daughter had checked in that morning. He paid for a room for three days. That surprised the whore, but he told her that he would be staying in the area anyway.
"I should be complimented that I was the very first girl you picked out," she said, trying to lighten the leaden atmosphere with the man as she took his arm.
He pulled his arm away from her, not wishing to touch her, not wishing for the contact.
And then they entered the seedy hotel room together. "Come on, mister. What's eating you?"
He pushed her onto the bed roughly. She was startled and she looked up at him.
"Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing? I mean, who the fuck do you think you're pushin' around. Give me my thirty bucks and I'm gettin' out of here."
"You're not going anywhere," the man said in a very low and calm voice as he peeled off his shirt.
The girl watched as he revealed his powerful chest and she shivered because of the way he spoke the words. She knew that there was a time when it was unwise to make any fuss.
She knew that there was danger in her profession and she wasn't ready to court that. She tried to push past the man, going around his side and trying to get to the door.
But Johnson was in very good shape. He was on top of the girl in an instant. He pushed her to the floor and held here there. "You will obey me, you rotten little brat."
"Hey, man, I ain't into none of this heavy shit. I'm not gonna let you do a number on me.
He started to pull at her clothes without paying any attention to her protests.
"You better watch out. I got somebody who protects me and takes care of me. If you do anything to me, and I mean anything, then he's gonna really mess you up good."
"And what is the name of this generous protector who takes such good care of you?"
"Nero! You ever hear the name? He's the toughest pimp on the whole street."
"And that's who you've given yourself over to? How old are you?"
"Seventeen!" she answered with defiance, a sneer on her face.
"You're even a liar. Does this Mr. Nero think you're actually seventeen when you and I can tell, in this light, that you're certainly twenty-three or four."
"What the fuck is it your business?" She was quite hostile, trying to use her hostility to gain her freedom. She jabbed her elbow at the man and he slapped her hard across the face.
"Nobody hits me across the face like that and gets away with it, man."
"You little slut!" the man snarled, pulling her by her hair and dragging her toward the bed. "How dare you use that tone of voice to me. I'll bet you talked that way to your own father."
"You leave that bastard out of this!" she shouted as she felt him tossing her onto the bed.
Johnson was a powerfully built man. His fury was making him even stronger.
He landed on top of the girl as he hissed, "You should be punished for the evil."
"Evil! Get the fuck out of here, man. I'm making a living! Fuck you."
He pulled her arms behind her back and then ripped her blouse back so that he could tie her hands together with the blouse. She struggled to get away from him.
"For not treating your father with proper respect, you deserve to be punished."
He spoke that as if he were giving out a sentence of punishment to the girl. He ripped her panties and pulled them down her legs so that, for all intents and purposes, she was nude.
The man quickly looked around. He knotted up a towel and used it to tie the girl's legs together and then he tossed her, as if she were a bundle, onto her belly on the bed.
"Now, you'll get the sort of punishment you deserve to get, you whore."
The man pulled his belt off and doubled it over in his hand. He was holding onto the buckle so that no irreparable damage would be done to the girl by the metal piece. But the leather loop that was created by the doubled over belt was threatening enough to her.
He slapped the leather in his hand and there was a double sound as it hit against itself and then hit against the flesh of his palm. Then he raised the leather belt up.
The girl was trying to squirm away, but there was only so far she could move in any direction because of her bonds. She felt the leather slapping against the naked flesh of her ass.
Then her muscles tightened together and she cried out because of the pain. Once again the leather slapped against the leather and slapped against her flesh and because of the tension in her body, because of the pain that had not subsided, this new pain burnt through directly to the bone. She gasped and shivered because of the feeling.
And again the leather belt came down across her flesh. "If your father had done this to you then you wouldn't have ended up being a whore like you are."
She squealed out as she felt the leather belt cutting into her again. "You stupid fucker."
"You want to see?" he shouted, not certain what he meant by that threat. His mind was spinning in circles and all of them reflected the fury that he felt toward the girl.
He pulled down his pants and shorts and then his cock was already standing up erect. He looked down at the way the girl was squirming on her belly. She was looking over her shoulder at the man and when she saw the way he was stroking himself and looking at her ass, she tried to turn herself over. "Oh, no! You're not gonna put it there."
Actually the man had been admiring her ass and hadn't had any intention of fucking her up there.
But, when the girl said that, his voice grew low and mean as he replied, "You're not going to tell me what I'm going to do and what I'm not going to do."
And then he slammed down on top of her and his stiff cock was pressed right up along the crack of the girl's ass. He was rubbing it up and down along that crack and no matter how she struggled she couldn't make him go away. Since her ass flesh was already bruised due to the slapping of the leather belt against her, the contact with his body was hurting her.
He was rubbing himself right up against the very spots that he had just wounded.
As he pulled himself up from her body and pressed the head of his cock right up along the crack of her ass, moving it up and down and searching for her ass hole, the girl started to move from side to side, trying to keep the man from entering her.
He slapped her hard on one of the cheeks of her ass and she cried out loud.
"Stay still. Don't you make trouble for me." Then he pressed the head of his cock against the tight anal opening and he started to push forward. He grabbed onto both of the cheeks of her ass and pulled each one outward with the flat of his palms.
He was pulling her open and permitting the head of his cock to spread apart the moist opening that was already there. He could feel the clinging flesh of the ass hole pulling on the head of his cock, not permitting the head of his cock to actually enter the hot hole.
"You gotta use something, mister. Come on. You'll rip me apart. At least use spit."
This was spoken in a pleading tone. The man acknowledged that on the girl's part. She sounded to him like a respectful daughter as she begged for mercy in the ass fucking.
And so he spit on his palm and rubbed the wetness up around the head of his cock. As he pushed forward into the hot and moist hole, he whispered in the girl's ear, "You see that?
When you speak to me like a respectful daughter, I'll be nice to you."
"I don't understand. What do you want, mister? Please don't hurt... "
"Shut up!" he snapped, accenting his command by slapping the girl on her tender ass.
Then she was silent. This gave her a chance to concentrate on what was happening and she really didn't care to. Her hands were bound and she could feel her fingers growing cold because of it. She could feel the slightly moist flesh of the anal opening being pulled into her body by the pressure of the thick head of the cock that was entering her.
The man pulled her hips up in the air a little bit and then he felt the hole spreading open beneath him. He had never fucked anyone up the ass before that. He had just never had a chance to try it, never had reason to do it. Now he created his own reason.
"Slut," he hissed in her ear. "I wouldn't enter that filthy pussy where a thousand other men have shot their loads." He sensed that the girl had started to cry.
He slapped her on the ass, but she still cried. The head of his cock was inside her ass hole and he could feel the quivering of her body as she sobbed and heaved herself.
The man started to work his dick in one direction and then in the other. He pushed her open to the right and then to the left. Then he started to push directly into her body.
He felt himself plunging forward, but then he felt his cock sticking to the flesh surrounding the hole and he knew that he had started on the way to pulling the girl inside out.
Pulling back a little bit, he released that tension and managed to release the grip that the anal opening had on his cock. Then he was able to push forward again and the broad head of his cock slammed against the depths of her insides. He was all the way inside her.
His balls were resting against the smooth flesh on her soft, white thighs, and his scratchy, kinky pubic hair was pressing against the rounded cheeks of the girl's ass.
He started to pull his cock out a little bit and then he plunged forward again. Actually he could feel the hot flesh of the anal opening clinging to his prick so each time he pulled out and pushed forward again he was massaging the inside of her ass hole, but he was not having the base of his prick massaged in return. He could feel the sphincter clinging around his cock and he realized that it was pulling out and pushing back in along with the movement of his cock.
But, as he continued to fuck harder and with longer strokes, there was more lubrication that was being created inside the anal opening. He could feel the smoothness of his strokes due to the fact that the anal opening relaxed and was no longer gripping his dick as much.
He pushed in and pulled back out of her hot hole and soon he was stroking with long fucking motions, fucking her ass just the way he would have fucked her pussy.
Each time he pulled out of her, he felt the moist flesh on the bottom of the anal tunnel rubbing along the most sensitive flesh along the underside of his cock. Then he slammed into her and he could feel the flesh pressing back against his hard cock.
She also felt the best tingling sensation when he was pulling out of her. The rubbing of the cock head against the sensitive flesh on the bottom of her anal opening was sending a thrill of delight through her body.
And when the cock slammed all the way in she felt her breath being taken away by the slamming pressure of the broad head of the cock. She also felt the man's balls and his curly pubic patch slapping right up against the very flesh that had been bruised and abused.
She gasped, inhaling sharply through her clenched teeth.
This kept happening very quickly because of the way he was slamming into her. When he would pull out there would be such an erotic thrill, particularly when the flared head of his cock was pulling back against the inside of her sphincter, that she would actually feel a little bit more pussy juice oozing and drooling into the moist pussy flesh.
But when he would push into her it was as if she were being given electric shocks.
The head of the cock was like a fist that was punching her insides. The man's body was slamming down repeatedly against the flesh on her ass cheeks which had so recently been injured.
"This is the way to treat a whore." That phrase became a litany for the man as he kept on repeating it in tempo to the fucking motions that he was performing in her hole. "This is the way to treat a whore. This is the way to treat a whore."
The words became faster as his movements became faster. Her moans became more frequent as she kept on reacting to more and more of the anguishing jolts that were hurting her.
And then he slammed all the way into her body and she could feel the start of his orgasm. She felt the way he was immediately pulsating inside her anal opening. She felt the way his cock was throbbing inside her body. The base of his cock was pressing her anal opening a little wider, spreading her out a little bit more. He was shooting his cream into her body.
There was such an intense heat in her ass hole that she could hardly bear it.
But she didn't have to bear it for long. The man slid his prick out of her before he had even finished shooting his hot load of cum in her bottom hole.
He was shaking all over. "Go on. Get out of here, you whore."
"How am I supposed to get out when you have me tied up?" She looked up at him snidery.
The man moved toward her as if he were going to slap her and she cowered back in her bonds, frightened of him. He felt a jolt of lust because of the fear that the girl expressed.
And then he realized that his prick was hard again. Or, perhaps it had never lost its erection.
He brought the head of his cock right up to the girl's lips and she turned away.
"Get that the fuck away from me. You had it in my ass. I ain't gonna suck it."
But he was pulling on her hair. "You're nothing but a whore and you have nothing to say about what you do."
She screeched as she felt the man tugging her hair out of her head and then he managed to get the head of his filthy cock between her lips. "Lick it off all clean."
The girl started to bring her teeth down against the sensitive flesh of the cock and the man pulled back in his own defense. But he wasn't on the defensive for very long. He started to slap her insanely on the ass. The girl couldn't even squirm to protect herself.
There was no chance for her to struggle now. She was writhing from side to side and she felt completely helpless. He was raining down blows on her already battered ass.
"No-o-o-o!" she cried out, a lamenting howl. "Please. I beg you. No."
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her whole body was shaking.
The man pressed his cock against her lips. "Clean it all off, if you know what's good for you."
"How about a little... p-p-pity, man? H-how about a... " She gasped and choked.
"Whores don't cry. I wouldn't believe a whore's tears so you're wasting them."
Tears were still coming from her eyes, but she tried to steady her breathing as she looked up at the man and said, "I w-won't waste my tears for a... b-bastard like you." There was a long pause. His filthy cock was near her mouth, but not right at it. "You're no better than my father," she hissed.
When the man heard that he pushed his prick right into her mouth. He could feel her lips and her tongue moving alone the length of the cock. It was pointless to wonder' if those parts of her mouth were moving of their own accord or simply in reaction to the invasion of the cock.
But the man was getting pleasure because of the contact. It didn't take long before his balls were rubbing against her chin and he was grinding the head of his cock against the back of the girl's throat. At the same time that he was doing that, of course, he was wiping off the length of his cock on the girl's unwilling tongue.
She couldn't help herself. Her tongue was right there. She was his prisoner.
The girl didn't even have the strength to pull on her bonds any longer. She just wanted to make the man cum again so that she could get out of there. At least, she hoped she would get out of there alive. Now she could feel the cock sliding in and out of her throat. . - She could feel the flared cock head rubbing against the roof of her mouth and she could taste the disgusting flavor of the anal sex they had just been through.
Then she could feel the cock moving faster against her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She could feel the jabs against the back of her throat and knew he was coming.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When he was through, he let her dress. She saw that he wasn't an ogre then. Actually he was acting like a man who regretted what he had done to the girl.
He remained on the bed, not looking at her. None of her clothes were badly damaged.
When the girl was fully dressed she stood over the bed as if she were waiting for something. The man looked up at her then, realized what she was waiting for, and went to his wallet for the thirty dollars. She looked at the money and laughed a little, "What you got usually goes for a hell of a lot more."
He looked into his wallet and took out another twenty dollar bill and then handed it to her.
"It usually goes for more than that also," she said, this time not laughing or smiling.
"That's all," he said in a flat voice as he looked away from her and put his wallet away.
The girl walked silently to the door of the room but then she stood there for a moment, shaking with her own fury. She turned back from the door and screamed, "Who the fuck do you think you are, mister?"
Johnson looked up at her with wide eyes. He was shocked by the sudden explosion.
She put her hands on her hips and shouted, "Who do you think you're talking to?"
His mouth fell open. He knew that there was no reply expected of him.
"Do you think I'm a lump of dirt or something? Is that what you think you did? You think you just porked it into some piece of clay that has no feelings? I happen to be a human being. Maybe I'm not a human being who's living the way you're living, and maybe I don't like the same sort of lifestyle as you do, you know what I mean? But, I happen to be a person.
"And there ain't nothin' in the world, not your education or your money or nothin' that gives you the right to act like you're better than me. Okay, you wanna have sex mean with a hooker, you tell her what you want and she'll quote you a price.
"Look, mister, -this is a job I do, and I pride myself that I do it good. What do you do?"
He was silent. Up until then the girl had been on a tirade and now she asked him a question.
"Come on," she snarled. "I ain't gonna tell on you to the authorities or nothin'."
"Well, I'm a... a teacher," he said, blushing a little bit.
She nodded her head and said, "And are you a good teacher, buddy? Huh?"
Now it was his turn to nod his head. He nodded his head again when she asked, "And you know you're a good teacher because the kids learn? That's your job?" .
When he agreed with everything to that point, she continued, "Well, I'm a good hooker. The reason I'm a good hooker is that I get my customer satisfied. You get paid for teaching. It's what you do best. I get paid for fucking by people who need to get their rocks off. That's okay. That's what I do best." Then she suddenly started to weep.
"Miss... uh... " the man began as he stood up from the bed.
She wiped her eyes on her sleeve as she stepped back and said, "Don't you take a step closer to me.
So help me, if you take one step closer to me I'll kill you."
"Forgive me, I didn't realize that... " he started and then he blushed.
"Fuck that! You didn't realize? Bullshit! You knew everything you were doing and you knew everything you wanted to do... " She was lost in tears again.
This time the man remained silent. When the girl started to speak again she whimpered, "Do you think I asked to live this kind of life? Don't you think I'd rather be in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, going to school, having boyfriends, starting my life, instead of peddling my ass till all hours of the night in Times Square?"
It was something that Johnson had never thought of, but the suggestion did jolt him a bit.
"How did it happen? I mean... uh... how did you... uh... "
"How did a nice girl like me end up in a place like this?" She laughed sardonically.
He nodded his head and blushed, suddenly feeling like some awkward anthropologist. "Why don't you sit down for a minute. 'You seem upset. I promise not to hurt you."
She looked at him with suspicion and then she moved sideways to a chair that had a straight back and was leaning against a wall. She kept watching the man.
"You remember that my time is worth money to me so you can't keep me here."
"I wouldn't keep you against... your will... " he said, hesitantly.
"Right. Just the way you didn't keep me tied down on the bed against my will?" He blushed briefly and then said, "Please. How did you end up here?"
She paused a moment and then said, "It was because of that that I had to get real nasty when you said that if my father had given me any spankings like that when I was young, I wouldn't have ended up peddling my ass here in Times Square."
Sighing softly, the girl continued, "You were wrong about my age. Actually I'm only eighteen but I say that I'm seventeen because guys get off on doing something illegal, being with a girl who could be jailbait. The reason I look older is because of the drugs.
"And I can tell you, man, I can really tell you that if it hadn't been for my father I wouldn't be here now. My father made me his victim. He used me. He made my life unbearable."
"When did all this start?" the man asked, great interest in his voice.
She looked at him sharply. "I don't know why I'm tellin' you all this. I don't tell people about none of this stuff. It's real personal. It ain't nobody's business."
"Please," he said, the pleading evident in just one word. "I'm here in town because of my daughter.
My daughter left and I... I'm looking for her. I may have caused... Well, I feel to blame for what happens to her. It might be important for me to hear your story."
Shaking her head, the beautiful blonde girl said, "Poor kid. If this is where she came to then I feel sorry for her. I feel really sorry for her."
Then she was ready to tell her story. "By the way," she said. "My name is Olga. I thought you might want to know. Sometimes I use a Swedish accent on customers. They love that. I know how to do it because my mother had such a thick accent and... "
"I don't want to hear about what you do with customers." He made it clear that he was upset by the subject of Olga's prostitution. The girl realized that this man was dreading and hating the notion of the prostitution and then she fully understand his actions in vicious lovemaking.
"Well, anyway, I am from Wisconsin. It's a small town called Stormhead that's all the way to the west of the slate. My mother and father have a farm there and I was just your typical teenager. I was going to school. Except I wasn't fully typical.
"You see. I never had a chance to wear nice things to school. It wasn't that daddy couldn't afford nicer clothes for me. He had the money and he spent it on other things. But, he didn't approve of having me dressed up. I had to wear the most conservative things in school, clothes that kids hadn't worn since the nineteen-fifties.
"I learned to be good with a needle and thread so that I could make changes in things. Father would give me three blouses and expect me to last through a school year with them. On top of that they would all have rounded, ruffled collars. It would be up to me to cut off the collars and make something nice out of them. But there was nothing I could do about the awful heavy dark shoes that he made me wear. They were like a boy's shoe.
"Each day after dinner I would have to recite for father. Does this sound like a story out of the past?
Does this sound like something that a child had done in the eighteen-fifties?
"I don't know. Maybe it was easier for kids in the nineteenth century who had to put up with strict fathers like mine because they knew that everyone else had to go through the same thing with their father.
"But it was always so unpleasant knowing that I had to face him, had to face my punishment."
"Punishment?" Johnson asked as he pulled his clothes on and sat on the bed.
Nodding, the girl said, "There was almost always punishment, unless father was just too tired or he just wasn't in the mood. He would always find something to punish also.
"You see, I had to report to his room upstairs while mother was still downstairs cleaning up. No matter what sounds mother heard she was to ignore them. Father was in charge of the household discipline. To put that a little simpler, my mother was a meek woman and I am willing to guess that my father was beating her regularly as well.
"Anyway, I would go up to his room and he would sit in his large chair and I would stand in front of him, strictly at attention. He would ask me questions about my day.
"He really did keep track of what I had to do in school and he always wanted to know everything.
How many pages had I read? What were the pages about? What were the questions on my homework? Had I finished all the answers before dinner? What was my grade on the previous homework?
"And so I would have to answer all of that. Actually, I think that was rather loving of him. It indicated to mc that he really did care about what I was doing in school.
"But he would also ask me about all my free time. How long did it take me to get home from school? Who had I sat with at lunch? Heaven forbid I should ever mention a boy's name! He was always seeing sluts and tramps the way other people see ghosts.
"I was on ray way to becoming the school tramp! That was his opinion. Actually I had never done anything in school. I had never dared. My father's punishments were always so severe I couldn't imagine how bad they would be if I really gave him something to punish me for?"
Then the girl paused and really looked into the eyes of the confused father who sat before her, saying, "Don't you see what he did to me? He gave me no choice. If I stayed there I didn't have an inch of leeway. I couldn't have a fight with him. I couldn't have any freedom. It was either stay there and bear with it or live. Since I was only sixteen when I ran away about eighteen months ago, how could I have done anything else but be a hooker."
As soon as she saw that the man was about to say something, she interrupted. "That isn't the end of my story. I didn't get to what made me leave. I suppose that if daddy had kept on spanking me every day after dinner that would have been one thing. But he wasn't satisfied to stop there. Until I was fifteen it had gone on the same way though.
"Once he would find something that I had done wrong, something like not getting a high enough score on a test or like talking to people in school that he didn't approve of, people whose parents didn't go to church enough, he would tell me to get into the position.
'That always meant the same thing to me. I was supposed to take off my blouse and my skirt. I always wore an undershirt over my bra and I always wore the very plainest panties. I would leave on my socks and shoes and that was it for me.
"Then my father would spread his legs and would slap his left thigh firmly. That was my sign that he was ready. I would bend over his left thigh and he would press his legs together so that his right leg was holding me in place. He would press his left hand against my back.
"And then he would start to spank me, holding me down on my back and my thighs so that I couldn't squirm around. He had it down to an exact science. He would slap the cheeks of my ass so that I would feel the soft fabric of my white panties sticking to my flesh.
"He would continually slap and smack the cheeks of my ass with his wide-open palm.
"I would be black and blue when I would look at my beautiful butt in the mirror. I was at an age where I was just beginning to get a rounded ass. I was also at the age where I was beginning to find out sexual facts, in spite of all my father would do to keep me from learning anything.
"I managed to get in a very large lie. I became friendly with a girl named Pauline who was considered a bad influence by my father. It seemed that Pauline's mother was the beautician in town and she was divorced and it was said that she got magazines that had pictures of naked men in them. Can you imagine how backwards the people are out there? Can you just see how they'd react if they were brought to Times Square and saw the magazines here?
"And as it turned out, Pauline was a wonderful influence on me. She showed me her mother's magazines and I saw male bodies for the first time. For the first time I actually had a notion of what happened between a man and a woman. One of the things I learned from Pauline was that male cocks grew hard when they were excited." She laughed a little.
"Isn't that funny? You look at me and you see a hooker in Times Square. You don't stop to think that I was once a protected virgin who really didn't even know what a cock looked like.
"I started to think more about sex since I knew more about it. And I was aware of many things. I was aware of the way my father had looked at me each time I undressed.
"I was also aware of the stiffness that was down the left leg of his pants.
"All through the years I had always figured that he had something in his left pocket although when I had looked at him at other times I didn't see anything sticking out there. But when I would lie across his leg I would always feel something stiff. I figured that my father kept something in that pocket and I guess he sometimes did show the lump when he was walking around the house. Now that I look back on it I wonder if he caught me looking at that lump I didn't understand.
"Anyway, the point is that I learned what it was that was in his pocket. I realized that my father was getting an erection and then getting off by having my body pressing down right against it while he was spanking my ass and making me tense up, rubbing my thighs against his erect penis.
"It was kind of disturbing to realize, after all those years, that I had been suffering from all that pain, from all those spankings, when in fact he had only been doing it to get his rocks off. He had only been doing it because of the pleasure he wanted to get "But, like I said, my father gave me very few options. I could either take it or run away. I don't suppose he ever though I would run away. If he thought I would I don't suppose he would have pushed me that far. But he pushed me further than I could go.
"I finally felt that I had to stand up to him. I was still fifteen and I had been self-conscious about the undressing and about the physical contact that the spanking provided for more than a year at that time. But, I hadn't had the guts to say anything.
"Finally I decided that the next time he had a reason to spank me, I would have to refuse. I was becoming a young woman. I wasn't a girl then anymore.
"But, I wasn't really anxious to have that run-in with him. And yet, I know that my father was just waiting for a chance for me. I could tell he was in that kind of mood. I really thought that I shouldn't start anything that night, but then I felt that I needed to use my courage. I knew that if I didn't do it then, I would never do it.
"And so, I had a perfect day. I reported everything in a very straight and respectful manner. But, he wanted to punish me. He told me that my posture was terrible and he told me to get into the position.
"That's when I said, 'Papa, No.' He looked up at me, shocked that I had the nerve to say that. I started to try to tell him that I felt I was getting too old for it and that I didn't feel it was proper for me to expose myself in my panties right in front of him.
"Without saying a word he jumped up from his chair and smacked me repeatedly across the face so that I fell backwards. I was weeping and trying to fight off his smacks.
"And he was screaming, 'Slut! You do not know how to honor thy father and thy mother!' He was going wild. He dragged me on the floor and started to slam his hand against my ass.
"I was huddled up, trying to protect myself. I was just holding onto my head, not wanting to be hit in the face and I could feel him pulling my skirt all the way up. Then he pulled my panties down. I panicked when that happened, but I didn't know what to do.
"Like I said, I was trying to protect myself. I was still a virgin at that time and was only thinking about not getting beaten up by my father. I felt him grabbing onto me from behind. It was, like, I was lying on my left side and he was lying behind me, also on his left side. He was pressing his clothed body against my exposed body.
"At least I remember feeling the hard quality of his clean coveralls against the exposed cheeks of my ass. Then I knew that he was fussing with something back there. I wanted to shut it all out. I wanted to be an ostrich and hide my head, making believe that would make all the unpleasantness go away from me. But, of course that only encouraged it.
"The things that were happening were just things that... I was too young to deal with.
"I could feel my father's hand forcing its way between my tightly clenched thighs. He was rubbing the tips of his fingers against the lips of my pussy and trying to press inside my vagina. I struggled and tried not to let him get in there. But, soon I felt the fingers against my virgin cunt lips. That was a real shock to me.
"I mean, I want you to understand where this was coming from. This was the man who was constantly telling me that he would kill me and the boy if I ever let a boy so much as to touch my pussy. And now he was the one who was getting ready to take my cherry.
"He rubbed his cock head up and down along the smooth flesh of my thighs and then he managed to push the tip of it between my thighs. I could feel the tip of it against the already moistened lips of my cunt. Then he managed to push forward.
"I thought I was holding my thighs together as hard as I could. I thought I wasn't letting him get into my body, but he managed to push forward. It was as if the stiffness of his cock was just too strong for me. He managed to get inside the lips and then... "
The girl started to weep bitterly. The man jumped to her side and put an arm around her. But the girl was aware of where she was and of who the man was. She pulled away from him.
He was on his knees in front of her as he said, "I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry for?" she asked, wiping her eyes with her sleeves again.
"I suppose that I'm just sorry that I wasn't a better father to my girl."
Olga smiled wistfully and then sighed softly as she sat back in the chair.
"Would you like to rest for a little while?" he asked, still sitting on the floor in front of her.
She looked into his eyes and asked, "Do you wanna hear my story?"
He nodded his head. He wanted very much to hear the rest of her story.
Sighing once again, the girl said, "Well, I'm probably doing myself some good in telling it.
I guess it doesn't matter that I'm telling you the story. I'll never see you again."
"Please. Your story has a lot of meaning to me... " he said in a quiet voice.
"For an instant, an instant that seemed to stretch before me like an eternity, I felt the head of my father's dick pressing hard against the wall of flesh that protected my virginity. And then I felt the pulling. Then I felt the ripping. Finally there was the burning.
"Oh, God, the pain of it. The shame of it. As soon as I knew that he was inside me I thought that I should just kill myself. I wonder what he thought about through it.
"It hardly took a minute before he shot his load. He pulled right out of me. I think lie pulled out of me before he even finished shooting. He smacked me on my bare ass just as if he had been right in the middle of giving me a bare-bottom spanking.
"And then he started to pretend that was all that he had done to me. For a little while I wondered if it had all happened in my imagination. But, no. I knew that I hadn't dreamed of the things that had happened. I knew that I hadn't dreamed the feeling that was inside my pussy, the hot liquids that were oozing out of my pussy slit at that instant.
"It had all happened. It had all been real. My father had fucked me and taken my cherry.
"But it was treated in the same way as his erections. He never admitted to it. It was always something that hadn't happened. It was something that would happen without a word acknowledging it. My mother would never come into the room. We both knew that from experience.
"My father kept on including that as part of his... regular punishment."
"Oh, God," Johnson said, burying his face in his hands and nodding his head.
"Finally it got more than I could stand. I had to leave town."
"But, in your whole town, wasn't there anyone you could turn to for help?"
"I started to tell my mother about it. Rather, I tried to tell my mother about it. She said that she knew my father had a hot temper but that he was the master of the house. I told her that she didn't know about all that he did to me and she made it clear that she didn't want to know. She wouldn't interfere with anything anyway and then she told me that I was an ungrateful viper after my father had put a roof over my head and fed and clothed me all those years."
The girl started to smile and laugh as she said, "Funny. That's the first time I thought about prostitution. I said to myself that if my mother felt I had to go along with any wish of my father's, even sexual ones, in return for the money he had spent to raise me, then she wanted me to be a prostitute. It was a bitter thought, but it seemed truer to me all the time.
"I also went to the priest of the town and I started to tell him what my father was doing to me. But he interrupted to give me a lecture about what a good parishioner my father was and how he never wanted to hear ill of a father from a child.
"What else could I do? Go to the police? Would they have listened to me?
"My father is a bastard, a rotten pig who deserves to die for what he did to me. He took advantage of the fact that he was a father. He took advantage of that role. And he managed to get my life fucked up enough so that I ended up here in New York.
"Do you think I was a whore back in town? The only man who had ever fucked me in my life when I got off the bus in New York City was my own father!"
Now it was the man who had been listening to the whole story who started to cry.
"Hey, mister, what's the matter with you?" the girl asked as she put her arms around him.
"It's my daughter... My Ivy... I'll never see her again and it's all my fault."
Olga pressed the older man's head against her youthful breasts and she heaved a sigh. She couldn't say anything to him because there was nothing positive she could think of. As far as she was concerned the man really was completely to blame for his daughter ending up in Times Square.
