Story title: Daughter Rehabilitation
Chapter 5 — Mike POV
“I knew it…”
It was time for my blood to freeze in my veins.
I rushed to tuck my flaccid cock back into my pants, my mind going over all the possible excuses and their likely outcomes, before begrudgingly turning around to face my angry wife.
She’d caught me.
She’d finally caught me.
“I knew it, she’s a fucking slut,” she spat, quite literally, at Poppy.“You’ve seduced your own father, you little bitch?!”
Poppy let out a low whine, wiping her cheek of her mother’s saliva, and flattened herself against the kitchen island’s sturdy marble frame.
I had to admit, this wasn’t at all how I’d imagined my wife to react upon catching me with my cock down our daughter’s throat, fucking her face like it was my right.
“I knew it. I knew all those “daddies” and your sudden fake obedience were too good to be true. You manipulative little harlot!”
My wife lunged at her, then, and it was nothing short of a miracle that I managed to catch her hand in time, right before she struck Poppy across her already battered face.
My wife’s body was shaking uncontrollably, anger emanating through her every pore. She was furious… but for some reason, none of it was being directed at me.
“Honey, calm down!”
“Let me beat the damned cunt!” She spat, struggling to free herself from my grasp.
“No, you will do no such thing to her,” I forbade her.
“The hell I won’t!”
The poor girl yelped in fear, completely terrified of her mother, the unexpected outburst of unbridled rage adding to her troubles.
Poppy was already having a hard time focusing her eyes, much less saying anything, so all she could do was make herself small and pray no one abused her any further.
“You’re fucking your own father?! You shameless slut!”
“No,” the mind control made Poppy croak out.
“No? No?! Is your father raping you, then?”
“No,” she hurried to say, for the same reason.
“It can’t be you were cleaning his cock with your tongue, totally not sexual, of course,” my wife spat, trying to kick at Poppy’s legs. “Which is it, he’s either raping you or you’re fucking him willingly.”
“No, no, no,” Poppy continued to say, vehemently denying things, as per her brain washing.
She looked and sounded almost believable, minus, well, her entire “used slut” appearance and the fact that her mother had to have watched at least part of what I’d done to our daughter.
“No, no, no, mommy please, daddy would not…”
“Lying whore!”
“Will you fucking calm down,” I shouted at my wife.
I then wrenched her aside, putting myself in between the two women.
My wife was staring Poppy down, looking positively murderous, before switching her gaze to me.
“I caught her,” she said, breathlessly, looking right into my eyes.
I could tell she was about to get very real, very serious, and damn fast.
“I caught her before I left, did she tell you that? She was getting fucked by her college professor, I saw them, in the classroom, after dark, he had her bent over his desk and he was fucking her. I’d come to plead with him to give her one more chance to take his exams. Poppy’d said he was going to flunk her, but maybe she’d said he was going to fuck her, and I misheard.”
I let out a shuddering breath.
“Shit…”
My wife snorted, derisively.
“Yeah, shit. But that’s not it, cause there were all those frat parties too… and now him? Is there anyone left in this world who hasn’t put it in you, girl?” She spat at Poppy again. “I wasted my best years raising you, making so many sacrifices and enduring humiliating disdain from other parents when you went all goth, and it was all for nothing, in the end. I raised a slut who’d go as far as to turn her own father against me, with the use of that whore body you have.”
I knew Poppy was a major fuck toy, but I hadn’t thought things had gotten that bad, that my daughter was trading sex for money, grades, booze… no wonder she’d been a great candidate for the rehabilitation program.
All Doctor Zhiva had to do was lean hard into my daughter’s slut mode and work those angles.
I’d been given not a changed daughter, but a fully customized, personal cocksleeve. They hadn’t improved anything in Poppy, simply made her service one master instead of whoring herself out to whomever, for whatever.
I looked down at my daughter, at how she was cowering before us, crying tears of shame and humiliation.
She’d been found out.
For all her self-righteous speeches and the creative cursing she was capable of when it came to telling me off for my sexual urges, it turned out she was far, far worse.
She was a nympho, addicted to sex, and using it to get whatever she wanted.
It was especially worse since she was a girl and the consequences for her fucking around could’ve been devastating.
They still could, I thought, an idea coming to mind.
“You could ruin her life, too,” I heard myself say, in between my family’s quiet sobbing.
My wife turned to look at me, in askance.
“She’s young, has her whole life ahead of her, but if she were to get pregnant,” I trailed off, hoping my wife would catch on to my sick plan.
“You mean she’s actually not yet knocked up?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
We looked at each other, then at Poppy, who’d gone incredibly still and silent.
She was looking at us, all wary, with her hands wrapped protectively around her currently barren belly.
I remembered the desperate look on my slutty daughter’s face from the day I’d found her crying in the bathroom and how ardently she’d begged me not to cum in her pussy again.
How she’d tried so desperately yet unsuccessfully to empty out what had remained from me within her.
How she’d been begging me to spare her cunt, ever since.
How she’d taken oral abuse after oral degradation, despite burning with deep humiliation, just so I wouldn’t do that to her again.
There was no escaping me breeding her this time, though.
I was planning to fill her womb with my seed and condemn Poppy to a lifetime of servitude as my personal plaything.
She’d never see the world outside these walls, trapped in a living prison of subjugation and degradation, at my every beck and call.
It was going to be an eternity of endless sex, rivers of cum, and sexual perversions at the hands of me and my jealous, enraged, wife.
“Clear the kitchen table,” my wife said, her voice filled with steely determination.
I pushed aside the fruits basket and my long forgotten cup of coffee while my wife dragged Poppy towards me. She had her fist wrapped around our daughter’s beautiful mane of hair and she gave the girl a hard shove forward, making Poppy slam into the table.
“Spread your legs, then, go on,” my wife spat. “You’ll stay like that until he puts a baby in you. I will have you endure as much shame as I have, with a daughter like you. Now you can be a single mother, forever unable to publicly name the father of your bastard child. See how other parents look at you then, cunt. See how they judge you. See how they blame you, although you didn’t want any of it to happen.”
“Mother, no, please! I don’t want a baby,” Poppy cried out, but didn’t dare to move from where she’d landed. “Please, anywhere but my pussy!”
“Oh, shut up, you little cock sucker,” I laughed, giving Poppy’s bare ass a hard slap. “And for fuck’s sake, tell your mother the truth—you want me to cum in you, my good girl.”
“I do,” she blurted out. “But I don’t want a baby. Fuck me, just… please! Please!”
“You think you get to beg, cunt?” Her mother thundered. “Fine, you have two options, then—get fucked or get the fuck out of our house and never come back. Leave as you are, half naked and penniless. Tell everyone we finally got tired of your attitude and evicted you from our lives for being a slut.”
“Mommy…”
“No. No more of that. If you’re done being pathetic, I’ve gotta get your father ready to punish you. I’ll take you spreading your legs as agreement to bear his children.”
I then felt my wife’s hand on the front of my pants, hard and insistent, and for the first time in years, it was all out of her own accord.
Her fingers moved over me through the fabric in rushed motions, sending a wave of warmth that crept up from my groin and spread out around it like a forest fire.
My body quivered with anticipation as my embittered wife worked to bring another level of perversion to what I was about to do to my own daughter.
To our daughter.
She slid her hand inside my pants and cupped me, her gentle yet firm touch making fireworks explode inside my veins. Her determined strokes quickly had me hardening in anticipation, knowing that she was helping to set me up for breeding our daughter while she watched.
She wanted me to avenge her with my cock, thrusting deep into Poppy’s body and filling it with my dirty seed, making her feel the full force of my manhood as I drove in and out of her unprotected depths.
With each stroke I would bring closer that ultimate punishment—a climax so powerful that its shock waves would travel through us all, leaving no doubt that justice had been served.
And then I’d pull out, emptied, sated, my wife’s revenge enacted, while Poppy would be left without a future and with the full knowledge that she’d cum because of me again, yet this time, her shame forced upon her by her own mother.
Poppy’s body tensed the moment she felt my cock head poking at her entrance.
She was shaking, her terror practically radiating off of her as she contemplated being trapped forever under the heavy veil of motherhood.
My selfish daughter, my slutty fuck toy, my goth rebel, she couldn’t bear the idea of allowing someone or something to take priority over her own immature desires and needs, yet this was what I was going to curse her with.
I moved slowly—inch by inch—easing my way all the way in until I was fully seated inside her well lubed cunt. She was slick with her own juices, wetter than I’d ever felt her before. She’d apparently gotten off my little face-fuck from earlier.
What a good slut.
I stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust to the sensation of having me inside her before I started to thrust slowly in and out of her warm tightness.
She gasped with each motion, squeezing down around me as if trying to keep me from pulling out.
Yes, this part, my daughter definitely liked.
She would always like it, the act of fucking itself, even if later on she’d often scream that she hated me for doing it to her.
I would pay that no mind today either, especially since Poppy liked to scream her hatred of me during her orgasms.
Her many…
Many…
Orgasms.
We moved together in a steady rhythm, pushing our mutual pleasure further than either of us could go alone. She dug her fingernails into the hard wood of the table as the waves of ecstasy rolled over her.
I could feel her inner walls clenching down around me in orgasmic bliss.
I was close too, and I could feel my own release coming just as hard and fast as hers. A few more thrusts and I was spilling myself inside her with a groan, our sweat-covered bodies colliding against each other in shameless perversion.
And then it was over.
The unthinkable had become reality.
She’d been bred.
The feel-good sensations slowly began to die away, leaving us both breathing heavily in the aftermath of my daughter’s renewed defilement.
“I fucking hate you,” she breathed. “Both of you.”
“That’s alright,” I panted. “Not like we haven’t heard that from you before.”
My wife moved to press Poppy to remain bent over the kitchen table. “Stay there, give your daddy’s swimmers a chance to reach their target. I don’t want you to spill a single drop of his precious cum. You will bear a child, no matter how many times he has to do this to you.”