I couldn't believe it when I heard the tentative knocking on my apartment door. My stupid ex-wife really had browbeaten Heather into visiting me during spring break! I knew that my daughter had been telling Sylvia about my molestion and rape of her over the years, but, apparently, the dumb fucking cunt had refused to believe her. Much to my delight, I must add.
I opened the door and there she stood, Heather, my beautiful 19-year-old daughter, whom I had first penetrated when she was twelve. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was just as wavy as the last time I'd cum on it, her soft, blue eyes intoxicating, all the more so because of the fear they contained. The fact that she was here on her mother's orders only added to my arousal.
"Come in," I told her, and, trembing a little, she complied. I closed the door, and she winced as she heard it lock: My baby knew what was about to happen to her, and she also knew there wasn't a goddamn thing she could do about it. I was already fully erect.
Not surprisingly, she was bundled up, even though the weather was warm: A woolen yellow shirt, obviously backed up by a bra, was trying (and failing spectacularly) to conceal her large, young breasts, while the silky-smooth legs I had lain between on so many glorious occasions were almost totally hidden behind a plaid, black-and-white ankle-length skirt. But she was also wearing high heels of the same hue as her blouse, which made me grin: For all her protestations, crying, and begging "NO, Daddy, STOP!" over the years, my baby girl was, at heart, a whore, just like all other girls and women.
"Strip," I instructed.
Her breath hitched, her eyes clouded, and tears began to run down her soft, alabaster cheeks. "P-Please, Daddy," she sobbed, "I-I-I thought it could be different this t---"
"Strip!" I commanded, and, knowing her fucking station in life, that of a cock receptacle, she obeyed. In less than 60 seconds, my Lolita was standing before me nude, helpless, trembling. She had doffed her shoes, but I couldn't help but notice she was posing her legs, the left one bent cheesecake-style, with foot arched and toes pointed as they touched the floor. Slut!
Unzipping my jeans, I freed my swollen cock from its confines. I ordered her to kneel. She was now weeping loudly as she did as she was toild. Just one more reason I love this soundproofed building!
Naturally, I didn't afford her the dignity of sucking my dong, as that would involve activity---not passivity---on the part of a female, something which should never be permitted. Instead, I grabbed her beautiful hair in my left hand. She gasped and winced as I pulled her gorgeous young head back, and told her to look up at me, which she did.
God Bless my little girl! She knew from years' experience to pout her soft lips into a tight, wet circle for me to fuck, which I immediately commenced doing. Gentlemen, there is no finer reason to have a daughter! The squelching sounds of my dick raping in and out, in and out, in and out of her luscious young lips, along with the hopeless despair in her lovely blue eyes as she gazed up at the man who, for the first twelve years of her life, she thought was her protector, was intoxicating. It was less than a minute of fucking my baby's mouth when I bayed like a wolf at the moon, shooting my hot, steaming cum down her throat, her gulping of my jizz timed perfectly with each spurt, as she had learned to do so many years before.
Having just pumped what felt like a gallon of sperm into the fucking little whore, I staggered backwards, unsteady on my feet. Shit, I needed a nap! But I couldn't just leave her there, curled up into the fetal position on the floor, her entire body twitching and spasming as she cried her fucking eyes out. So I called Reggie.
Reg is a big, tall African-American male whom I'd met at a local track meet a few months earlier. In the locker room, well, suffice it to say, it was readily apparent that God had "blessed" him damn near twice as much as me! I knew that he had the day off from his job, so I told him to come up and expand Heather's cunt. He readily agreed, and my well-deserved snooze was periodically interrupted by my daughter's screams of pain as she was forced to take his gargantuan cock.
When I finally awoke fully, I found Reggie gone, but not his evidence: My daughter's sleeping body and face had his dried cum all over it. Now, it was my turn!
I slapped her awake. She seemed confused for a moment, but then she remembered where she was, and who she was with. The fear in her eyes was intoxicating.
"D-Daddy," she stammered, "please, I don't want---"
I cut her off by backhanding her in the face. Her sobbing returned as I spread her legs. She didn't resist, resigned to her fate. Her cunt had dried since Reg had used it, and, gee whiz, I didn't have any lube in the apartment, so I just rammed my erection into her. She screamed in pain, which almost made me cum right then and there, but I was determined to prolong my little girl's ordeal.
As I moved in and out of her suddenly-lubricated slit (whore!), I took to reminiscing out loud.
"Remember the first time?" I asked. She didn't respond; her eyes had glazed over. "You were twelve. Your bitch mother couldn't satisfy me, so I came into your bedroom, remember? You thought I was there to protect you from the monster in the closet, you dumb little slut. HA! When this real monster took your innocence away, I remember how you started to wail, before I put my hand over your mouth as I kept on raping you. And all those times afterward. Such fond memories." And, in honor of said memories, I slapped her hard across the face once again.
She didn't react. Her body just lay there, accepting the abuse I was inflicting on it. At each inward thrust of my cock, a faint whimper emanated from her throat, but that was all. Then I looked into her eyes.
They were dead, soulless, completely docile. I had finally and absolutely crushed my daughter's spirit! This realization pushed me over the brink, and I yelled in victory as I pumped one, two, three spurts of cum into her thoroughly-conquered cunt.
I lay on top of her for several minutes, growing drowsy once again. But I wanted the little slut out of my apartment! I grabbed her hair and lifted her off the floor, causing her to yelp in pain. "Get dressed and get out," I told her.
She didn't say a word, eyes completely life less as she did as she was told. She wasn't crying now. She was beyond that. At long last, she knew exactly what she was: A receptacle that had served its purpose, and was now to be discarded.