Vincent Church - Degraded teenager

The realization made him angry. Angry and hot! She was still his daughter; he was still responsible for her. And he resented the thought of someone else planting cum in the cunt he'd resisted because of some stupid idea about incest.

Cindy stepped up close to him, and her arms snaked around his neck. Standing on tiptoe, she rained small, moist kisses over his chin, onto his neck, his earlobe. "Wendy'll be okay," she whispered. "But what about me, lover? Momma's got a big problem too."

"Um. I can feel it." He gripped her slim waist, and his limp prick began to stir. He could feel the heat of her loins through the pajamas, through his pants and shorts. She was getting to be some chick, his Cindy. Both of his girls were top drawer, and he had only himself to blame for the temporary loss of the one with the red pussy.

Cindy steered one of his hands to the waistband of the nightie. "You can feel it better at the source," she cooed, pulling the elastic away from her belly, then letting it snap tight on his wrist. "Down a little bit more, love. You know where."

"Here?" Sam found her bush and rubbed.

"Uh-huh." She planted her feet wide apart, still on tiptoe, swaying gently against him.

Closing his eyes, Sam fingered the loose, juicy slit and envisioned the night he'd found her and the girl using the dildo. Now he wished he hadn't beaten Wendy so cruelly; that he hadn't grown so excited, whacking her butt that last time and sending her off to the bedroom so he and Cindy could be alone. What had she done in the dark? he wondered. Had she fingered herself? Had she listened at the door, jacking herself off before going through the window into the night?

His fingers, all four, slipped high into Cindy's wet cunt. He felt her tremble, but it was Wendy he imagined he held in his arms, as he'd held her so many times in that very same room. It was her breath he felt moist on his neck. Her round bottom was raw from the belt, and he was making it up to her. His dick was growing, getting hard, anxious to find its way up her little-girl tightness, up her hot daughter-asshole.

"Lover man," gasped Cindy, offering him her lips, grinding her cunt into his hand. She clawed at his belt buckle, undid the zipper, and let his pants fall to the floor. Her hand dove inside the fly of the shorts, groping.

"Not this way," choked Sam, still envisioning Wendy, seeing her childlike beauty in his mind's eye. Quickly he backed Cindy to the foot of the bed. Then, before she could utter a protest, he spun her around and yanked the shorty pajama bottoms down off her hips. "Over the mattress," he ordered, already shoving the bloated head of his cock between the lush, quivering cheeks of her ass. "Double up, baby. Give Daddy some asshole!"

"Oh! G-Go easy!" she grunted as the cockhead, too hungry to wait any longer, burrowed into her chute, fucking halfway home before she could brace for the drive. "Bastard! Oh, you motherfucker!"

Barely hearing the words, barely aware of her presence, Sam threw her roughly forward onto the bed. He used his legs to spread her full thighs, opening the halves of her jiggly bottom still more. He knew he was hurting her; he wanted to hurt her, as he'd hurt Wendy night after night on this same bed, in this same room, his big cock boring into the same tight, hairy pocket.

For a moment he wondered if the girl would ever come home. He'd promise her anything – he'd give her the belt and bend and let her beat him if she wanted to, if that would placate her. It was a shameless perversion, this incestuous desire that engulfed him; but there was no getting away. The red welts were there, inside his head. The first night he'd come to the room, whipped her to cover his own unruly desires, and fucked out her asshole, telling himself that was okay, rationalizing his incestuous lust. Now he knew better. He took pleasure in beating, inflicting pain, and more pleasure still in subjecting his own daughter to torture.

Groaning, fucking his meat all the way up Cindy's reluctant asshole, the hot blood of desire thumping loudly in his ears, he wondered again – God, how he wondered and yearned! He wondered what Wendy, his baby, the one whose ass he loved to flog and fuck, was doing while he pretended it was her – her succulent little-girl bottom – draped helplessly over the foot of the bed.

Fucking men! thought Wendy. She simply didn't know what to make of them anymore. Like Gus… He'd visited Miss Alberta's house almost every night since she got there, always asking for her. Except last night. Last night, for no reason at all, he'd insisted on her and another girl in the same bed.

Sighing, she stared at the high ceiling and wondered what Daddy, her wonderful daddy, was doing. She wondered if he'd ever visited a whorehouse, and what he would do if he came to this place – expecting to pay for a girl he'd never seen before – and found her, naked, arms and legs out flung, every secret open to view. She could imagine him pausing to ogle at the foot of the bed. Then the belt: his face pasty white as he tore the horrid leather snake from his waist, and beat her and beat her. She could almost feel the cruel blows, the sting of the leather against her skin. But the thought didn't frighten her. The pain, the memory of the last lashing, made her cunthole all sticky with cream, and quickened her breath. She supposed Gus had lots to do with her kinky reactions – he'd forced her into every painful contortion imaginable, every trick in Daddy's sex manual, and then some. He, more than anyone, had taught her to accept pain.

She stretched, trying not to think about fucking; trying to concentrate on the room, the plush, old fashioned furniture. Her hair needed washing, she thought, toying with the messy red locks at her forehead. And she had to wash her underwear. But the other Wendy, the one up her belly, cared nothing about clean hair and clothing and all that. The other Wendy wanted only a cock!

As if the thought had traveled beyond the bedroom into the hall, the door swung suddenly open.

Lew Ogden – wearing the dapper suit and tie he wore each Saturday night when he and the boys "played cards" until daybreak – stepped into the room. "Hey now, baby," he said.

The bastard! thought Wendy, scrambling to cover herself with the sheet. She'd almost forgotten about him. It was the first she'd seen of him since the day she arrived, and she knew by the look in his eye what he had come for. "Oh no," she wailed, curling into a protective ball at the head of the bed. "Not after what you did. No!"

Lew closed the door. He studied her for a moment before approaching the bed. He sat at the edge of the mattress, and reached out to touch her bare shoulder.

"No!" She slapped the hand away, reminding herself that not only was he the one who'd started it all by having her sent to the home; but also the fact that she was there, in a common whorehouse, compelled to give up pussy to anyone Miss Alberta sent up to the room, was his fault, too.

"Fuck off!" she yelled, unable to still the restlessness in her lower abdomen, pussy, and asshole.

Lew leaned toward her, forcing her to the far side of the bed. "So what'd I do that's so terrible?"

"You… you… oh!" She looked hastily about, searching for something to slug him with. He was acting as if it happened every day; as if every young girl in the world was delivered into the hands of a madam, and the delivery boy – him in this case – stopped in for a quick piece of ass whenever his dick got hard. She glanced furtively at his crotch. He was indeed hard, bulging. "No!" she repeated.

Lew merely laughed, and leaned closer. "Shit! You ain't never had it so good, baby. I knew it the first time we screwed. You're a natural pro." His hand shot forward, gripped the sheet, and yanked. Wendy tried to leap from the bed, but Lew caught her trim ankle, and sent her tumbling onto her belly. She felt the smooth material of his suit on her back, the bulge in his pants leg. Silently she struggled. She twisted to face him, balled her hands into fists, and rained light blows about his face and shoulders. She wasn't sure why she was fighting – she longed for a cock! But wrestling, making him take it, hurt her in the process of getting it in, and made it somehow better…