πHis love is suffocating, but sheβs forgotten how to breathe without it.
β€οΈ Synopsis. In his eyes, she was never just a daughterβshe was a possession, a fragile masterpiece, he would destroy the world to keep as his alone.
β‘ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.
β‘ Pairing. Yandere! Stepfather x Fem. Reader
β‘ Novella. Paternal Privilege – Part 4
β‘ Word Count. 6,744
β‘ TW. dom + top yandere, incest, non-con, rape, psychological manipulation, physical and mental conditioning, toxic relationships, possessiveness, social isolation, dacryphilia, choking / breath play, face slapping, slight physical assault and violence, mature language, daddy kink, grooming, DDLG, objectification, slight blood play, bondage, BDSM, non con photography and filming, forced relationship and marriage, blackmail, coercion, threats, invasion of privacy
Days blur into a haze of pain, pleasure, and humiliation as the cycle of abuse continues. Each time he calls you to his office, you know what’s going to happen, yet the fear and dread never diminish.
You find yourself craving the moments when his attention is solely on you, his cruelty a perverse comfort in the coldness of his corporate world.
His cock becomes a twisted symbol of power, a weapon that breaks down your resistance piece by piece. He fucks you in various ways, pushing your boundaries, making you his in every conceivable fashion.
Today, he has you bent over the edge of the desk, your face pushed into the leather, as he rams into you from behind.
You can feel the cold steel of the desk biting into your cheek, the wood digging into your stomach as he takes you roughly. His hand is tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he whispers sweet nothings that feel like knives.
“You love this, don’t you, slut?” he asks, his voice a dark purr of satisfaction.
“You love being daddy’s little whore.” Each word is a blow, a reminder of your degradation. Yet, your body responds, your pussy growing wetter with each thrust.
You try to fight the arousal, to cling to the last shreds of dignity you have left, but it’s a losing battle.
His cock fills you up, stretching you wide, the pain morphing into something darker, something that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back.
The smell of leather and his cologne fills your nose, making you feel sick and yet, inexplicably, it’s becoming a scent you crave. He leans over, his hot breath tickling your ear.
“You’re such a good girl,” he whispers, his voice a dark caress.
“Daddy’s little breeding bitch.” He bites down on your neck, the sting of pain mixing with the pleasure, making you gasp.
Your body betrays you, arching back to meet his thrusts, silently begging for more.
The sound of his zipper echoes through the quiet office, a stark reminder of your situation. You can feel his cock pulsing inside your pussy as he gets closer to climax.
You know what’s coming, the taste of his cum already familiar and bitter inside you.
But there’s a part of you that craves it, that needs it, like a drug that’s slowly killing you from the inside out.
His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer as he starts to come, his hot seed spurting into your pussy. You take it, the feeling of him making you feel more degraded than ever before.
Yet, as he pulls out, you’re left with an empty ache, a hunger that only he seems to be able to satisfy.
He tucks himself away, his pants zipping back into place with a finality that makes you feel discarded.
You fall to the floor and stay on your knees, unsure of what to do next, your insides still full of his cum. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he regains his composure. “Good girl,” he says, his voice a soft praise that feels like a slap in the face.
“Now, go back to your room and think about what we’ve done.” He hands you the camera, the weight of it in your hand a stark reminder of your new reality. “I’ll be watching the footage later. Don’t disappoint me.”
With trembling legs, you stand, the collar around your neck feeling tighter than ever before.
You want to argue, to scream, to tell him to go to hell, but the fear of what he’ll do if you do keeps the words locked in your throat.
Instead, you nod, taking one last look at the man who has stolen your innocence and your voice. You turn to leave, each step feeling heavier than the last.
ββββββββββββ
Your stepfather’s eyes narrow as he reads the latest email on his computer screen. His grip on the mouse tightens, his knuckles turning white as he processes the news.
One of the many suitors for your hand in marriage has turned out to be none other than the same man you’ve had a secret crush on for what feels like an eternity.
His expression darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “What’s this?” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Someone’s getting a bit too eager for my taste.”
You freeze, your heart racing as you realize the implications.
If anyone found out about your twisted relationship, it would be the end of everythingβhis reputation, your future, and any semblance of happiness you might have had.
“It’sβ¦ it’s just a marriage proposal,” you stutter, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “They’re all justβ¦ business acquaintances.”
He looks up from the screen, his gaze piercing through you like a knife. “Business acquaintances don’t send pictures with love notes, brat,” he sneers, holding up the email where a small attachment blinks at you, taunting you with its existence.
Your stomach drops as you recognize the handwritingβit’s unmistakably that of the man you had hoped to one day marry. “What have you been telling him? Have you been whoring around behind my back?”
Your stepfather’s eyes narrow dangerously as he reads the love note attached to the email, his jaw clenching with each word. He glances back at you, his expression a mix of rage and disgust. “You little whore,” he growls, his hand shooting out to grab you by the collar. “You’ve been playing with fire, haven’t you?”
You try to pull away, the metal ring digging into your skin. “Please,” you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, really?” he sneers, yanking you closer. “Then tell me, bitch, why is he sending you love notes and asking for your hand in marriage?” His grip on the collar tightens, pulling your head back to expose your throat. You can feel his breath, hot and angry, on your skin.
“It’s just a mistake,” you choke out, trying to keep the desperation from your voice. “Please, let me explain.”
“Explain?” he repeats, his tone mocking. “What’s there to explain, huh? You’ve been playing house with someone else’s cock behind my back.” He shakes his head, the disgust in his eyes a mirror to the way you feel about yourself. “I thought I taught you better than that, girl.β
Your stepfather’s rage is palpable in the air, his grip on your collar tightening with each breath he takes. He yanks you closer, his mouth crashing down on yours in a bruising kiss that tastes of anger and possession.
You whimper into his mouth, the collar cutting into your skin as he devours you, his tongue claiming every inch of you as if to erase any trace of the other man. His free hand roams your body, squeezing your breasts and grabbing at your ass, reminding you of your place.
You’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.
When he finally pulls away, his eyes are blazing with fury. “You’re mine,” he snarls. “Mine to fuck, mine to use, mine to do with as I please.”
He shoves you to your knees, the collar biting into your neck as you hit the floor. “And if I find out you’ve been playing games with anyone else, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
His hand moves to his belt, unbuckling it with swift, precise movements that speak of his experience in this twisted dance. He yanks your clothes off with an animalistic ferocity, the sound of fabric tearing sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine.
You’re exposed and vulnerable before him, your breasts heaving with every panicked breath you take.
His eyes rove over your naked body, his hunger plain to see as his cock thickens and lengthens before your eyes. The head of his erection is flushed a dark red, the tip glistening with pre-cum, a stark reminder of what’s to come.
“Daddy, please,” you whimper, trying to crawl away from him.
But he’s too fast, his hand snatching your ankle and pulling you back towards him.
He straddles your body, his weight pinning you down, his knees pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs. He leans in, his breath hot against your neck as he nips and sucks at your sensitive skin.
His teeth graze the edge of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re going to learn your place,” he murmurs, his voice a dark promise. “You’re never going to forget who owns this pussy.”
Without warning, he plunges two fingers into your wetness, making you gasp.
You’re already sore from his previous abuse, but the sudden intrusion feels almost welcome, a twisted comfort in the face of his jealousy.
He pumps them in and out, his thumb brushing against your clit in a punishing rhythm that has you writhing beneath him. “You want him?” he snarls, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You want his cock instead of daddy’s?” His voice is a mix of anger and need, his eyes boring into yours as he watches your face contort with pleasure.
“N-no,” you manage to say, your voice shaking. “Only you, daddy.”
It’s a lie, but it’s what he wants to hear, what you need to say to survive.
And as the pleasure builds, as his fingers work their dark magic on your body, you almost believe it.
You’re his, his little slut, his toy to use and abuse as he sees fit. The collar around your neck feels like a brand, a constant reminder of your submission.
The slap echoes in the room, the sting on your cheek a stark contrast to the wetness between your legs.
You gasp, your eyes wide with shock and pain. “You think you can lie to me?” he says, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine.
His hand comes up again, and you flinch, expecting another hit.
Instead, he grabs your chin, his grip brutal as he forces you to look at him. “You’re going to learn, bitch,” he says, his eyes blazing with rage. “You’re going to learn who you belong to.”
With a vicious twist of his wrist, he yanks the collar, pulling your head back and exposing your throat.
He leans in, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he bites down, hard enough to leave a mark.
You cry out, your hands coming up to protect yourself, but he catches your wrists in one of his, pinning them above your head. “Daddy,” you whimper, your voice a pathetic plea.
Your stepfather’s eyes light up with a sadistic glee at the thought of making you pay for your perceived infidelity.
He grabs the digital camera from the nightstand, his excitement palpable as he turns it on. “You’re going to show everyone who you really are,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “My little slut, my personal whore.” He starts filming, the red light a blinking beacon of your humiliation.
He pulls you off the floor, dragging you to the bed and throws you down onto the mattress. Your legs are forced apart, and he positions himself between them, his cock standing at attention, thick and menacing. “You want him to see how much you love daddy’s cock?” he asks, his tone mocking.
You try to shake your head, but the collar he holds keeps you in place, a constant reminder of his control.
Without preamble, he plunges into you, his cock filling you to the hilt with one hard thrust.
You scream, the sound muffled by the tightening collar around your neck. The pain is exquisite, a mix of agony and a twisted sense of belonging that makes you feel sick.
He starts to fuck you hard, his hips slamming into you as he captures every moment on film. You can feel his anger in each punishing stroke, his jealousy a living thing that feeds on your suffering.
“Look at the camera,” he commands, his voice harsh. “Tell him how much you love daddy’s cock.” You shake your head, your eyes wide with fear and humiliation.
“Do it,” he says, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Tell him.”
With a tremble in your voice, you repeat the words he’s forced into your mouth, the camera’s lens a cold, unblinking eye that captures your degradation. “I love daddy’s cock,” you murmur, the words barely audible.
He chuckles, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “Good girl,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He pulls out almost all the way, then slams back into you, making you cry out again.
“Say it louder,” he growls, his hips grinding into yours. “Make sure he hears you.”
You swallow hard, the taste of bile in your mouth as you repeat the words, louder this time.
“I love daddy’s cock!”
The words feel like a knife in your soul, but you know better than to defy him now.
ββββββββββββ
The next few hours are a blur of pain and humiliation.
He takes you in every position imaginable, each thrust captured by the unforgiving lens of the camera.
You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his cock pumping into you from behind. You’re riding him, his hands on your hips, pushing you down harder onto his length. He makes you straddle his face, his tongue probing your ass as he films you from below.
The camera clicks and whirs, a constant reminder of your degradation.
He whispers filthy things into your ear, calling you his little slut, his good girl, his dirty whore.
And with each degrading name and action, something inside you breaks a little more.
You hate him, you despise him, but there’s also a part of you that craves the attention, that wants to please him despite the horror of what’s happening.
It’s a cycle of abuse that you’re trapped in, a cycle that’s becoming all too familiar.
As he continues to fuck you, his eyes never leaving the camera, you feel your body start to respond.
You can’t help itβhis dominance has become a twisted form of comfort, a dark need that you didn’t know you had until he brought it out of you.
Your hips start to move of their own accord, meeting his thrusts, your own desperation for release overpowering your disgust.
You moan, the sound strangled by the collar, your eyes glazed over with a mix of pain and pleasure.
He notices your response and grins, his eyes alight with triumph. “That’s it,” he praises, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to come for daddy, aren’t you?”
His words are like a spell, coaxing your body into a frenzy of need. You try to resist, to hold back the building orgasm, but it’s like trying to hold back the tide.
His strokes grow more erratic, his breathing harsh and ragged. “You’re going to come, and when you do, you’re going to scream my name,” he says, his voice a growl.
Your stepfather’s grin widens as he feels your body betray you once again, responding to his rough touches and degrading words.
He knows exactly how to manipulate your desires, turning your fear into a twisted form of arousal.
His cock slams into you with renewed vigor, his strokes punishing yet oddly satisfying.
You can’t help but feel the familiar build-up of an orgasm, despite the horror of the situation. Your hips buck wildly, your breath hitching in your chest as he watches you through the camera’s lens, recording every moment of your forced submission.
“Look at you,” he says, his voice a mix of disgust and admiration. “You can’t even control your own body.”
He reaches for the collar around your neck, tugging on it as he speeds up, his eyes never leaving your completely fucked face. “You’re going to come, and when you do, it’s going to be for me. No one else.”
You try to hold back the scream, but it’s no use. Your body is his plaything, a puppet dancing on his strings of pain and pleasure. You come with a guttural cry, his name ripped from your throat despite your best efforts.
He laughs, the sound echoing in the room, and you hate him more than ever.
But you hate yourself even more for giving him what he wants.
As your orgasm subsides, he pulls out of you, the wetness between your legs a testament to your body’s treachery.
He stands up, the camera still in his hand, and captures every inch of your bruised and trembling form. “You’re so beautiful when you’re broken,” he says, his voice almost admiring.
“But let’s not forget who’s really in charge here.”
He moves around the bed, the camera’s unblinking eye capturing every angle of your vulnerable body.
The flash goes off, blinding you with each snap, making you feel more and more exposed.
His hands trace the bruises on your skin, the marks of his dominance, and he takes special care to zoom in on the collar around your neck, the ring pressed into the flesh of your throat.
You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he leans in, taking a picture of your face, tears still glistening on your cheeks, your eyes glazed over with the aftermath of your forced orgasm.
“Now, let’s get a good look at daddy’s cum,” he says, his voice cold and detached.
He spreads your legs wide, the camera hovering between them as he takes shot after shot of your violated pussy, his semen leaking out of you and pooling on the bed.
You want to die of embarrassment, but your body is still quivering with the aftershocks of pleasure, a traitorous response to his cruel touch.
“You’re such a good little bitch,” he murmurs, his finger dipping into the mess and bringing it to your mouth. “Lick it clean.”
With a tremble in your lip, you obey, your tongue flicking out to taste the salty bitterness of his seed.
It’s a perverted form of intimacy that makes you want to vomit, but you know better than to refuse.
He takes more photos, his eyes gleaming with a sick excitement as he watches you degrade yourself for his amusement. The camera clicks away, capturing every moment of your humiliation.
When he’s done, he sets the camera aside, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
“You really are a natural,” he says, his voice deceptively gentle. “I’m so proud of you.”
The words feel like a slap in the face, a mockery of any real affection.
But there’s also a strange thrill that runs through you at his praise, a twisted part of you craving his approval despite the horror of what he’s doing to you.
ββββββββββββ
The next day, you wake up with a sense of dread that sits like a lead weight in your stomach.
The events of last night play through your mind like a twisted pornographic movie, the pain and humiliation etched into your soul like a brand.
But the horror is only just beginning when you reach for your phone and see the countless messages, emails, and notifications.
“What have you done?” you scream at the screen, your heart racing as you realize that your stepfather has uploaded the explicit photos and videos of your forced degradation onto various websites and social media platforms, ensuring that everyoneβfrom your friends to your colleagues to the high society circles you’ve worked so hard to infiltrateβknows what a dirty little whore you are.
The comments are vile, the judgments swift and unforgiving. All thinking you had promiscuous sex with a lot of people, as the pictures and even videos made it seem that way.
Your stepfather saunters into the room, a cup of coffee in hand, looking as unfazed as ever.
He takes in your frantic state, your eyes wide with horror as you clutch your phone, and his smirk widens. “Oh, did you see our little home movie?” he asks, his tone conversational, as if discussing the weather. “It’s quite the hit, isn’t it?”
You throw the phone at him, tears streaming down your face. “You bastard! How could you do this to me?”
You know you should have seen it coming, but the reality is so much worse than the fear that had gnawed at you.
The phone sails through the air, hitting your stepfather’s chest and bouncing off, the clatter of it hitting the floor a pathetic sound against the weight of his sadistic chuckle. “Temper, temper,” he says, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
“You really thought I’d let you keep any semblance of dignity after last night? You’re mine, and now everyone knows it.”
You can’t breathe, your chest tightening as you stare at the shattered screen. “Why?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “Why are you doing this to me?”
Your stepfather laughs at your outburst, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. “Why?” he repeats, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Because it’s fun, of course. And because you’re mine to do with as I please.” He strides over to you, the smell of his cologne filling the air as he looms over your trembling form.
“But don’t worry, my little slut,” he says, his voice a silky whisper. “Your daddy will take care of you. After all, who else would want you now?”
You look up at him, the rage bubbling over. “You’re wrong,” you spit out. “I’ll leave, and I’ll make sure everyone knows what you’ve done.”
He laughs, the sound cold and mocking. “Oh, really?”
He takes another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours.
“And what will you tell them? That you’re a whore for your stepfather? That you liked it? They’ll never believe you. Besides,” he says, his voice dropping to a growl, “who do you think they’ll believe? The well-respected businessman, or the little slut with the ruined reputation?”
You flinch at his words, feeling the last of your hope slip away.
He’s right; no one will believe you.
You’re trapped, and he knows it.
“Please,” you beg, hating the desperation in your voice. “Take it down. I’ll do anything.”
Your stepfather sets his coffee down, his expression shifting from amusement to one of cold calculation. He reaches out, his fingers grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.
“Marry me,” he says, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. “Make it all legitimate. You’ll be my wife, my possession, and everyone will think you’re the luckiest girl in the world.”
You stare at him in disbelief, the word ‘wife’ sticking in your throat like a shard of glass.
“You can’t be serious,” you manage to choke out, but the look in his eyes tells you that he is.
He’s thought of everythingβthe perfect way to keep you trapped, to make sure you never tell anyone the truth.
“Oh, but I am,” he says, his grip on your chin tightening.
“It’s all arranged. The papers are drawn up, and the announcement will be made tomorrow. It’s the only way to save your reputation, my baby girl. Think of it as a fresh start.”
His smile is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever seen.
Your mind races, trying to find a way out of this nightmare.
But his words echo in your head, taunting you.
No one will believe you.
No one will help you.
You’re his, forever.
“And what if I say no?” you ask, your voice shaking.
He leans in, his breath hot against your face. “Then the world will know what a greedy little whore you truly are,” he whispers.
“They’ll see you for the gold digger you are, using your own father for his money and status. They’ll think you deserve every bit of thisβ¦ and donβt forget who brought you out of the slums, baby girl.”
His grip on your chin tightens, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “But if you marry me,” he continues, his voice a seductive purr, “I’ll make it all go away. I’ll take care of you, make sure you’re never hurt again. You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted.”
You want to scream, to fight back, but the fear that he’ll do something worse if you refuse holds you in place. The collar around your neck feels like a noose, a constant reminder of his dominance.
You swallow hard, trying to keep the bile from rising in your throat. “Whatβ¦what do you want from me?”
“I want you to be mine,” he says simply, his eyes burning into yours. “To accept your role as my little slut, my wife, my property. To wear this collar proudly and never forget who you belong to.”
He releases your chin and runs his thumb over the ring attached to the collar, his gaze never leaving yours. “Say it,” he commands, his voice low and demanding. “Say you’re mine.”
Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at him, the words sticking in your throat like a mouthful of poison.
But you know what happens if you refuse.
You’ve seen the photos, read the commentsβthere’s no going back from this.
You hate yourself for the decision you’re about to make, but fear has a way of making you do things you never thought possible.
“I’m yours,” you whisper, the words feeling like a knife to your soul.
As the words ‘I’m yours’ leave your lips, your stepfather’s eyes light up with triumph.
He leans in, his mouth claiming yours in a brutal, possessive kiss that leaves you gasping for breath. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting of coffee and something darker, something that makes your stomach clench.
His hands roam over your body, his grip on your arms tight enough to leave bruises as he pulls you closer, his erection pressing against your stomach.
“Good baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and ragged. “Say it again. Tell me you love me.“
You pull away, the taste of him still lingering in your mouth. “I love you,” you force out, the words like acid on your tongue.
But it’s not enough for him.
He wants moreβmore degradation, more proof of your submission.
His hands move to the collar around your neck, his thumbs brushing the ring in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “Look at me when you say it,” he commands.
You lift your gaze to meet his, the coldness in his eyes making your heart sink.
“I love you, Daddy,” you whisper, the title feeling like a brand.
His smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in the sight of you, broken and collared before him.
“That’s better,” he says, his voice a gentle purr that sends a shiver down your spine.
“Now, let’s make sure you’re ready for our big day tomorrow.”
He releases your arms and walks over to a large, antique wardrobe in the corner of the room, opening it to reveal an assortment of lingerie, all in shades of white and lace.
“Choose something that makes you feel like a proper bride,” he says, his voice thick with mockery.
You stumble over to the wardrobe, your legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. You run your trembling hands over the fabric, trying to find something that won’t make you feel even more degraded than you already do.
You finally settle on a simple set of white lace underwear, hoping that it will be enough to satisfy his twisted desires without making you feel like a complete whore.
He watches you with a smirk as you pick out the white lace underwear, his eyes lingering on the tremble in your hands. “No,” he says, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and disappointment.
“That won’t do at all. You’re going to wear something that shows everyone who you truly are.” He reaches into the wardrobe, pushing aside various garments before pulling out a scrap of red and black lace that barely covers your most intimate areas.
“This,” he says, tossing it at you, “is what a slutty bride wears.”
You catch the lingerie with trembling fingers, feeling the weight of his judgment heavy on your shoulders.
You hate him for this, for reducing you to nothing but a plaything, a pawn in his twisted game of power and control.
But the fear of what he’ll do if you refuse is even greater.
With a resigned sigh, you put on the revealing set, the fabric feeling like a second skin that screams ‘slut‘ with every move you make.
He nods approvingly as you stand before him, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh.
“Much better,” he says, his voice thick with lust.
He crosses the room, his hand reaching out to cup your breast, his thumb flicking the hardened nipple beneath the flimsy lace.
“You’re going to be my trophy wife, my little slut,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “And everyone will see just how much I own you.”
ββββββββββββ
The wedding day arrives with a sickening mix of dread and anticipation.
You’re dressed in a designer gown that clings to your body like a second skin, the fabric whispering against your bruised flesh.
Your stepfather, now your husband, watches you with a predatory gaze, his hand resting possessively on your lower back.
The guests throw you envious glances, whispering behind their fans about how lucky you are to have snagged such a powerful and wealthy man.
But the collar hidden beneath your dress is a constant reminder of the truthβyou’re nothing more than his trophy, his plaything to be used and displayed at will.
As you walk down the aisle, the weight of his hand feels like an iron shackle, guiding you toward your fate.
His smile is wide and welcoming for the cameras, but you see the glint of malice in his eyes, the promise of what’s to come once you’re alone again.
You repeat the vows robotically, your voice shaking, your eyes never leaving the ring on his finger.
The one that matches the one around your neck.
The reception is a blur of faces and forced smiles, the collar a constant reminder of your new reality.
You’re introduced to his colleagues, his friends, all of them oblivious to the horror that lies beneath the facade. They congratulate you, telling you how lucky you are, how beautiful you look.
You want to scream, to tell them the truth, but the collar feels tighter with every passing minute, a silent warning of what would happen if you dare.
Later, as the guests start to filter out, he pulls you aside, his hand firm on your arm. “It’s time for your wedding night present,” he says, his voice low and dark.
He leads you to a back room, his grip unyielding as he pushes you onto a plush velvet couch.
You try to struggle, to protest, but he’s too strong, his body pinning yours down as he rips away the flimsy fabric that passes for lingerie.
“You’re going to learn to love this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck as he nibbles and licks his way down your body.
His hands are rough, his fingers digging into your skin as he spreads your legs wide, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “You’re going to beg for it, just like the good little slut you are.”
His teeth graze your inner thigh, sending a bolt of fear and unwanted arousal through you.
You know what he expects, what he wants, and despite every part of you screaming ‘no’, your body responds, betraying you once again.
With a cruel laugh, he slides his hand between your legs, his thumb pressing against your clit with a firmness that’s almost painful. “Look at you,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “Already so wet for me.”
He dips a finger into you, the intrusion making you flinch, and then brings it to your mouth. “Taste yourself,” he commands, pushing it past your lips.
You gag, the taste of your own arousal mixing with the metallic tang of fear. “You’re going to love this,” he says again, his voice a dark promise that sends chills down your spine.
The moment he says ‘taste yourself’, you feel a mix of humiliation and arousal that you can’t help but feel, despite your desperate mental pleas for it to stop. His finger, wet with your juices, invades your mouth and you have to swallow the bitter taste of your own submission.
You want to spit, to fight back, but the fear of what he might do if you refuse is too strong.
Your eyes water, but you don’t dare to close them, keeping them fixed on his as you taste your own desperation and fear. He watches you with a sadistic delight, his thumb moving down to continue to rub circles around your clit as his other hand moves to unbuckle his belt.
With a cruel smirk, he pulls his cock out, already hard and glistening with precum. He’s not even bothered to remove his pants, his arousal so apparent it’s almost embarrassing.
He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him as he lines himself up with your pussy, his cock nudging against your folds. “Open your legs wider,” he growls, his eyes narrowed.
“You know what’s coming.”
You obey, feeling the couch dig into your back as he shifts his weight, his cockhead pushing against your opening. You can’t help the whimper that escapes your throat, a mix of fear and pain as he starts to push inside you.
He’s merciless, sliding in deep without any pretense of care or gentleness. You feel your walls stretch around him, the pain making your eyes water, but he just keeps going, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm.
“That’s right,” he says, his voice a low, guttural grunt. “Take it all, my little fucktoy. Take all of Daddy’s cock.”
His hand moves to your throat, squeezing just enough to make it difficult to breathe, his other hand still working your clit with a brutal efficiency that has you teetering on the edge of another unwanted orgasm.
As he feels your body finally giving in to his, his grip tightens around your throat, the pressure increasing slightly as his thrusts become more forceful.
Your legs quiver, trying to find purchase on the couch, but it’s useless.
You’re at his mercy, and your body seems to have accepted it, even though your mind is still reeling.
You start to kiss him back, not because you want to, but because you know it’s what he wants.
The taste of him, his sweat and lust, fills your mouth, and you hate it, but you hate the alternative more.
You feel your orgasm building, your body betraying you once again as he takes his fill. He groans into your mouth, his tongue invading you, claiming you as thoroughly as his cock does.
He pulls away, panting, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice a harsh whisper. “Say it. Say it like you mean it.”
You know what he wants to hear, the words that will complete your mental collapse.
But something inside you snaps, the last thread of resistance breaking under the weight of his dominance.
“I’m yours,” you murmur, the words barely audible, but he hears them, his smile widening.
He leans down, his teeth grazing your ear as he whispers, “Good girl,” his voice thick with lust.
His hand moves from your throat to the collar around your neck, his grip tightening slightly. “Now, I’m going to show you just how much you love being my slut.” He pushes deeper into you, the pain giving way to something darker, something that feels almostβ¦right.
Your eyes roll back in your head as you try to fight the sensation, but it’s no use.
His thrusts are punishing, each one driving the word ‘slut’ deeper into your psyche, until it’s all you can think, all you can feel.
You start to moan, the sound involuntary, your body moving with him despite your mind’s protests.
You give in to the overwhelming sensations, your body responding to his harsh, punishing thrusts as if it’s been programmed to do so.
You moan, the sound a mix of pain and something darkly pleasurable, your hips moving in sync with his.
He grins, his eyes alight with victory as he watches you fall apart before him.
His hand moves from your throat to the collar around your neck, his grip tightening slightly. “I love you, slut,” he says, his voice a dark caress. “Say it back to me.”
You hate yourself for it, but you can’t help the words that fall from your lips, your voice barely a whisper. “I love you, Daddy,” you murmur, the taste of his control thick in your mouth.
His smile widens, and he starts to fuck you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. “Again,” he demands, his voice a low growl. “Say it like you mean it.”
And so you do, each time the words coming easier, each time the pleasure building until it’s all you can think about.
He’s relentless, his cock pounding into you without mercy, each thrust sending waves of pleasure and pain crashing through your body.
You’re lost in a haze of sensation, his degrading words and cruel touches somehow making everything feel right.
It’s sick, twisted, but you can’t stop it.
You can’t stop the way your body responds to him, the way your pussy clenches around him, begging for more.
“Look at you,” he says, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction. “You’re loving it, aren’t you?”
He pulls out, the sudden emptiness making you whimper, your body craving more. “Say it. Tell me how much you love your daddy’s cock.”
The words are forced out of you, a confession you never wanted to make. “I love your cock, Daddy,” you murmur, the humiliation of the admission making your cheeks burn.
He laughs, a harsh, cold sound that sends shivers down your spine. “Good bitch,” he says, his grip on your neck tightening just a fraction more.
“Now, I’m going to show you how much I love my little whore.” He pushes back inside you, his hips slamming into yours, each movement punctuated with a grunt of pleasure.
You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body reacting to his brutal dominance in a way that makes you despise yourself.
The stepfather’s cruel grin widens as he sees the desperation in your eyes, his hand tightening around your neck as he starts to pump his cock in and out of you even harder, the leather couch groaning beneath your weight.
Your moans are muffled by his mouth, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as he takes your submission. His other hand moves to your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple until it’s hard and painful, the pleasure and pain blurring together into a dark symphony that has you writhing beneath him.
“That’s it,” he whispers against your mouth. “Take it all, you filthy little whore.” He bites your lip, drawing a drop of blood, the metallic taste mixing with your saliva and his own lust.
You can feel his cock swelling, his orgasm approaching, and with it a sense of dread that makes your stomach clench. He’s going to fill you up, mark you even further as his property, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.
With a final, brutal thrust, he empties himself inside you, his seed spilling into your womb as he groans your name like a war cry.
He collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the couch, his cock still pulsing with the aftermath of his climax.
For a moment, there’s silence, just the sound of his ragged breathing in your ear.
Then he pulls out, the absence of his cock leaving you feeling cold and empty. He sits back, his eyes never leaving yours as he reaches for the camera.
“Let’s get some more pictures,” he says, his voice devoid of any warmth.
“After all, we want to remember this special moment.”
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List of Fandoms and Characters
Ace Attorney: Barok van Zieks
Blue Lock: Jinpachi Ego, Michael Kaiser, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi
Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi, Endeavor, Shouto Todoroki
Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A
Death Note: Light Yagami
Demon Slayer: Muzan Kibutsuji
Dishonored Series: Anton Sokolov, Daud
Genshin Impact: Dainsleif, Zhongli (Rex Lapis / Morax)
Haikyuu!!: Kei Tsukishima, Wakatoshi Ushijima
Honkai Star Rail: Blade, Sunday
How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A
Hunter x Hunter: Illumi Zoldyck
I’m Not That Kind of Talent: Duke Illuster Starbe, Nemeseus
Jujutsu Kaisen: Kenjaku, Ryomen Sukuna
Kill The Hero: Park Yong-Wan, Se Jun-Lee
Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: Aamon
Naruto Shippuden: Madara Uchiha
One Punch Man: Boros
Reverend Insanity: Fang Yuan
TOUCHSTARVED: N/A
Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Error! Sans, Ink! Sans, Nightmare! Sans
Wuthering Waves: Geshu Lin
Your Throne: Eros Orna Vasilios
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