Robert Vickers: Raped stepdaughter

"Wh-what?" she asked, stunned.

"You're a sexy piece of ass. Hell, that was the first thing I noticed. Me and you, kid, we can make music. You know what I mean?"

He stood, towering over her. She was looking directly into his crotch and the huge bulge under his pants. Horrified, paralyzed with dread, she watched him run his zipper down. His mighty prick came rushing out like a racehorse eager for the starting gate.

"You have to be out of your fucking head!"

"My, my, such language. You want to suck on my cock, huh?"

He thrust it forward toward her mouth. She turned her head away. To have it in her mouth would be – what? She couldn't figure out exactly how she felt towards the man. He was obviously well hung. And she'd seen him in action. He was a hell of a good lay.

What was it, then?

Melissa couldn't say. Maybe it was the way he simply assumed she'd be hot for his body. That smug assurance was enough to grate on anyone's nerves. Or maybe it was something else. He was a real son of a bitch, after all. It could have been that and nothing more.

In which case, why didn't she just hop into bed with him? She could ignore his antics when he wasn't fucking her. Somehow, that didn't seem right to the girl.

"GO to hell," was all she told him.

"That's not the answer I want. You should have told me yes."

His flat-handed slap across her face took her by surprise. It sent her stumbling across the floor. The cool linoleum under her cheek soothed the heated skin where his fingers had marked her.

"Now, are you going to suck on my prick? Or do I have to really convince you?"

She looked up at him, hatred flaring from her eyes. Never had she disliked a man more. Her loathing was compounded by the way he stood, his hands resting on his hips. His cock jutted, from his groin, proud and long and hard.

"Okay," he sighed. "You want it the hard way. As my daughter, I suppose YOU should know I like strict discipline. Do you know what I mean?"

"Don't you dare touch me!"

In a swift movement, he was across the distance between them. His hands hooked under her arms and lifted her with easy strength. She saw his chest expand with the strain of lifting her entire weight. Other than the bulging muscles, he showed no real effort being expended.

Holding her at arm's length for a moment, he studied her. His eyes glowed with lust. She shuddered when she realized what she was in for. This man didn't know the meaning of the word mercy.

He was an animal bent on nothing but fucking. And he'd surely have her. She couldn't stop him, no matter how hard she struggled.

Casting her aside, he turned and fumbled in the kitchen drawer until he found a ball of twine. He held it up and said more to himself than to the girl, "This will do just fine."

"Wh-what are you going to do?"

"You don't like me, do you? We'll see how well you like my prick when it pokes into that tight ass of yours."

"No! NO!"

He caught her with contemptuous ease. He spun her around and bent her over the high-backed wooden kitchen table chair. She groaned as the top of the chair cut into her belly. She tried to kick backwards like a mule; he was ready for her.

One meaty paw caught her left leg and quickly tied it with the string to the leg of the chair. As she tried to kick him with her right foot, he snared and tied it in the same fashion to the other leg of the chair.

She found herself in a position of embarrassing potential. Her feet were a good two feet apart and firmly tied. That exposed her crotch – if she hadn't been wearing her jeans. She didn't know what he was planning for her but it couldn't be too bad. Not as long as she had the tough denim on.

"Yeah, that's one helluva fine tush, kid. That ass really turns me on in a big way."

"You'll be sorry for this, damn you. You're going to really be sorry!"

"Sure, sure. That's what they all say at first. Afterward, they usually thank me for fucking them. I got a real man's prick, kid. You're gonna love it, wait and see."

"Pig!"

He laughed, harsh and menacing. She shivered but didn't try to escape until he grabbed one of her wrists. Bending her arm in a hammerlock, she crumpled forward under the pressure. As she reached back to try and stop the pain, she found both her wrists firmly tied with the string. The thin twine cut into her flesh, stopping circulation.

Hands tingling with lost blood, stomach bent painfully across the top of the chair and her legs spread wide, she was as helpless as a girl could be. She wanted to cry. Somehow, she knew that would only goad the man on. She didn't want to encourage him.

"I hope you burn in hell, damn you!"

"Hey, a chick with fire. I like that. It makes fucking you all the more fun."

She attempted to escape when his hand stroked over her denim-clad butt. There wasn't any place she could go. She was as immobile as any human being could be.

"Firm ass, kid, real firm. Sorta tight-assed, if you ask me."

She refused to answer. No matter what she said, it would only encourage him to further degrade her. As long as her jeans were on, she could take anything he might do to her.

He might have been reading her mind. "Those jeans have got to go. Where's my knife?"

He fumbled out a switchblade knife so that she could see, then opened it with a deadly clicking noise. He held the long silver blade in front of her face for a moment, then sneered.

"My friend and me, we been through a lot. He's helped me out of some real tight jams. And we have fun together, too. Like now."

She cringed as the cold knife blade touched the outside of her leg. She sensed rather than felt the knife slipping up under the cuff. The brutal tearing noise came from the blade slicing neatly through the entire left side of her blue jeans. He'd cut her pants open all the way to the waist.

Repeating the motion on her right side made the girl even more nervous. Her only protection from the man was rapidly disappearing. When he jerked and her jeans fell apart in two sections, she was left clad only in her white cotton panties.

"Nice ass, really something on a sixteen-year-old kid like you. God, I bet you got the boys creaming in their pants whenever you walk away from them. You got me good and hot and I seen the best."

She couldn't hold back her fright, her anger, any longer. "You Goddamn motherfucker!"

He cut her off simply. A loop of string around her head and between her lips silenced her words. The twine cut into the corners of her mouth unmercifully. She wanted to scream and couldn't. The thin trickle of blood from the cut flesh started dribbling down her chin.

"You brought that on yourself, girl. You shouldn't say naughty things like that."

He rubbed his hand over the curve of her ass again. She flinched. He instantly swatted her bottom, open handed. The swat stung. She imagined his handprint left in her snowy white flesh. The ugly red fingermarks might take some time to go away.

"Don't think you're gonna tell anybody about this, either. I'm not gonna hurt you. But I can – and I will!"

She saw the glint of steel again. He held the switchblade close to her face. The point came closer, ever closer. She almost fainted when he lightly pressed the tip into her cheek. A tiny droplet of blood welled up and then slowly ran down her face to join the stream of blood from the corners of her mouth.

"Pain. That's what I'll give you if you open that fat yap of yours to anybody. But I can be good to you, too. Like this."

She cringed when the cold steel touched the skin just above her waist. A quick jerk and he cut her panties away. She was widely exposed to his lascivious pleasure.

"God, I never seen a cunt I wanted to fuck more!"

She managed to scream in spite of the string crossing her mouth when the cold steel blade touched her pussy lips. He laughed harshly, then she heard the clatter of the knife on the table.