Raped Daughter
by Unknown


FOREWORD 

She screamed as she felt the lash of his belt across her naked ass cheeks. 

"Brazen daughter!" he shouted out, foaming at the mouth. "Slut! Whore." 

"No!" she cried. "I'm not your daughter. I'm not... I'm just a girl who... " 

She was only a girl who looked like his lost daughter, but he didn't give 
her a chance to respond to him. She didn't even get a chance to finish her 
explanation. 

He stuffed a filthy rag in her mouth, a rag she couldn't dislodge because he 
had her so tightly bound in that position on the floor of his small room. 
"Now I'll show you what I do to brazen sluts. I'll show you how whores 
should be treated." 

Pulling open his pants, he stroked his thick endowment. Then he pressed the 
head of it against the lips of the girl's pussy. He pushed forward and she 
felt it ripping her apart. 

But the sound of her scream was not heard because of the gag in her mouth. 


CHAPTER ONE 

It was a quiet and peaceful town. The house was in need of a paint job, but 
it was a nice, warm house. Everyone on the block spoke of the devotion of 
the father and daughter who lived in that house. 

"Ivy is such a wonderful housekeeper," the women on the block all said. 
"She'll make some young man a wonderful wife someday. It'll be a sad day 
when her father loses her." 

And then they would usually remark, "That Mr. Johnson is such a devoted 
father to his girl he doesn't seem to have any life of his own. Poor soul. 
How does he do without Mrs. Johnson?" 

Sometimes when the men on the block were together one of them would remark 
to the other, "Do you really think that Johnson is such a goody-goody? I 
mean, what do you think goes on in that house? He's got that beautiful 
daughter of his and no one to stop him from doing what he wants. I mean, 
have you ever seen the way that girl worships her father? 

But the response to that was usually, "No, Johnson is a decent sort. Very 
decent." 

And then someone else might remark, "Who can tell what goes on in that 
house. The two of them aren't the sociable sort, are they? But I don't 
suppose it's anyone's business." 

Everyone on the block was cordial to Ivy Johnson and her father. Everyone 
respected them both. 

Ivy was one of the brightest girls in the high school and her father was an 
instructor at the college. 

He taught English literature in the small Pennsylvania college. 

They had both led rather sheltered lives since the loss of Mrs. Johnson. The 
good looking man had originally thought he should remarry out of duty to his 
daughter, so that she would have a mother to help her grow up in the right 
way. But, the girl was growing up well on her own. 

And, as time passed she proved that she was able to care for the house. He 
had a cleaning woman come in twice a week, but his daughter always took care 
of preparing dinner and he took care of doing the shopping for food and 
household things. 

Once a year his sister would visit and she would generally take Ivy on a 
shopping expedition so that the girl could be well-dressed. In this way, the 
quiet and gentle man was saved the embarrassment of having to help choose 
his daughter's first bra. 

Now that Ivy was sixteen she was quite capable of buying her own bras. 

She was also reaching an age where she was asking herself questions. She had 
no one else who might be able to answer such questions for her. Her concern 
was for her father and yet these were questions she didn't wish to ask him, 
as much as they disturbed her. 

Foremost among the questions was "What did father do for sex? That was the 
one that kept running through the girl's head as she watched her father 
methodically move through his days, always perfectly organized and 
well-planned, and always putting her welfare first. 

In the five years since her mother had died, the girl hadn't seen her father 
go out with another woman. He spent his free time with his daughter. Weekend 
afternoons the two of them would make excursions. And then, on a Saturday 
night, the two of them might sip cocoa and chat until it was quite late. 
When she was a little younger, Ivy would smile to herself and think, "This 
is just the way it is for married couples." 

But, as she got a little older she saw that there was one thing missing from 
this fantasy setting with her father. He was not getting sex from any source 
that she could see. 

She learned about masturbation, of course. First, she learned it for herself 
and she went through the terribly frightening period that most young people 
go through, the period when, uneducated about sex, they think that they're 
doing something that no one else in the world has ever done before. 

So, she felt that her frigging had to be furtive and hidden. She never spoke 
of it and it haunted her continually. But then she started to hear about it 
from others. 

First she thought it was only something that boys did and she felt that she 
was dirty and oversexed because she was doing it to herself. But soon she 
found out that girls did touch themselves as well, even though they might 
not have admitted it so readily. 

And then, when she realized how universal masturbation was, she realized 
that it was something her father must have been doing. She went through a 
period where she refused to believe that her father had ever done anything 
like that, where she couldn't believe that he had ever had sexual passions. 
But then she recognized the naivete of these assumptions. 

She became self-conscious, fearful that the man could read her thoughts and 
yet knowing that the very fear she had was a silly one. Finally she accepted 
it as a mature fact of life. Her father was a man. He had a penis. Her 
mother, as sainted as she might have considered the virtuous woman, was a 
woman with a vagina. The two of them had had sexual relations. 

It was a fact of life. Once she had accepted that fact she started to think 
of the sexual passion that was behind it. She would be lying in her bedroom, 
the lights but, and she would feel that insistent tingling in her pussy, the 
tingling that told her that she was feeling sexual passion. Then she would 
reach down to touch herself. 

She had been touching herself in that way for such a long time. And she had 
been having sexual fantasies for almost as long. Sometimes she had even had 
fantasies about her father. 

Ivy would imagine what it would be like to be lying in bed and to have her 
father climbing in next to her. She would turn to him and see those pale 
blue eyes of his and hear him saying, "I've been so lonely. I've missed your 
mother so much, Ivy." 

"Ill be here in place of my mother, papa. Don't worry." That's how it would 
go in her fantasy. 

Then her father would push her nightgown up her thighs and he would mount 
himself on top of her. 

She would sigh softly and he would peel off his clothes. 

In fantasies there are never any buttons that get stuck and there are never 
any zippers to manipulate. 

His cock would be hard already. The girl would press herself up against his 
body so that he could manage to get his penis inside her. Then she would 
feel the walls of her flesh being spread open. 

Before that happened, as she well knew, she would have to lose her 
virginity. Pesky problems like that did not arise in fantasies. In fantasies 
everything flowed easily. 

Once she reached the age where she was able to accept and to understand the 
fact that her father was a man with a penis who had sexual needs also, the 
thought would run through her mind as she frigged herself. Perhaps, right on 
the other side of the wall, her father was masturbating. Her father's 
fingers were rubbing up and down the length of his penis just as her own 
fingers were working around and around the lips of her pussy. 

She wondered if that was really so. She wondered what would happen, what 
could happen if that wall wasn't there. What would happen if she and her 
father were together? 

The girl would try to keep herself from thinking that thought, would try to 
keep herself from thinking about what her father looked like completely 
naked. But, she would think the thoughts in spite of herself. She would try 
to imagine someone else, some television star or some sports hero in her 
high school, when she frigged herself. But, as the passion grew in her body 
she would always see her father in front of her. 

And, indeed, right on the other side of the wall, the man really was jerking 
off and he was seeing his daughter. He was imagining what she looked like 
naked and he was feeling a great deal of guilt because he was thinking that. 
He went through the same mental contortions that she was practicing just on 
the other side of the wall. He tried to think of other women. He tried to 
forget the image of his beautiful daughter. But, as he would begin to cum 
the face of his daughter would appear before him. 

She had replaced his departed wife on the pedestal of his love and passion. 

And because he placed her on that pedestal he made her life more than a 
little difficult. But the difficulties he placed before her were not the 
sort that his neighbors paid much attention to. 

After the man had spent so many weekends with her as she grew up she felt 
guilty about leaving him alone on a Saturday night. The girl never dated 
although she was often asked. 

Everyone agreed that she was the most beautiful girl in the school and 
everyone longed for her. 

But, she wouldn't see any of the boys. Once, right after she had turned 
fifteen her father remarked about this. "Oh, I don't know, Daddy. All the 
boys seem so immature." 

"There must be some boy you'd like to go out with?" he asked, hoping against 
hope that her answer would be in the negative. 

She paused and thought and then she blushed a little bit. "Oh, Daddy. I 
suppose." 

"Well, if a nice young man asks you out I don't mind... as long as he comes 
to the house so that I can meet him and as long as he brings you home at a 
decent hour." 

And so she went to the school dance the following month. She had an awful 
time though. She just couldn't relax. She couldn't enjoy herself. The girls 
in school had given up on Ivy years before. 

They all decided that she was a snob who thought she was better than 
everyone else. 

Actually, it was just because she kept her distance, because she had given 
so much of herself to her father that she had little left over for anyone 
else, that made the girls think she was acting like a snob. She didn't know 
how to deal with people her own age. She only knew how to deal with her 
father. He was the only one in the world she cared for. 

It was that admirable sentiment on the girl's part that was so lauded by the 
neighbors. But it was that feeling on the girl's part, that exclusive 
feeling for her father, that was keeping her from having a chance to mature 
properly. 

She heard the other girls talking in school. The girls had been dating boys. 
They had gone through necking and deep into petting. Some of the girls had 
jerked off their boyfriends. Some of them were worrying about actually 
fucking with their boyfriends. 

Ivy was separate from all of that. She listened objectively. But, as she 
listened she felt a longing for something she knew she was missing. If only 
her father could fill that gap. If only he could fill up her body with his 
passionate manhood! 

The man had a growing feeling inside him, a feeling similar to the one his 
daughter experienced. 

Two years earlier he had acted upon those feelings. Or, rather, he had tried 
to act upon those feelings. But the incident that resulted was a terrible 
one. 

He had traveled to New York City for a weekend of seminars on new teaching 
techniques for English literature. There were distinguished professors from 
all over the Northeast at that conference and Mr. Johnson was one of the 
people who was speaking. 

His lecture was well-received. He discussed ways of interesting contemporary 
students in classic plays by pointing out the similarity between those plays 
and contemporary works. "In other words," he informed a receptive audience 
of intellectuals. "If they want violence and passion steer them toward 'The 
Duchess of Malfi' or 'Richard II or any of a number of works you can think 
of. Let them know that the same things which bring audiences into movie 
houses today once brought audiences into theatres. 

"Then you might also point out that the language of these plays is a little 
more difficult, but that it's worth the effort since these are classics. 
Every classic became a classic for a good reason and not because it was 
boring. More likely because it really spoke in a relevant way to a human 
situation." 

He received a great round of applause and there were many who said his was 
the best speech of the weekend. 

That night when the different professors went back to the hotel one of them 
walked alongside Johnson. "I'm going downtown for a girl tonight. After all, 
the wife is back home. What about you Johnson? You're here at the conference 
alone, aren't you?" 

He tensed up and said, "I'm a widower. I lost my wife some years ago." 

"Oh," he groaned. "Sorry to hear that, fella. You wanna come with me. I have 
the address of a really swell place. They charge a hundred for a girl, but 
they're safe and clean." 

"A hundred for a girl?" He blushed. "I hadn't realized it was so high." 

Chuckling, the other man said, "Well, we are in New York City. There's a 
little bit of everything here. If you want it for only twenty bucks you can 
find a girl down around Times Square. They're not as clean and they might 
just rip you off, but... " 

"I think I'll just stay in my hotel room and read tonight," he said, in a 
clipped voice. 

"Suit yourself." And there was another person who would forever after accuse 
Johnson of having a high-handed attitude, never recognizing that man's 
discomfort. 

Johnson was able to be a little more cordial to the people who invited him 
along to Chinatown. He went to his hotel room. The sessions for the 
following day didn't begin until ten in the morning with a brunch that would 
include a panel discussion on required versus voluntary reading lists. Once 
back in his hotel room he phoned his daughter. He had left the girl in the 
care of an older couple who lived right down the block from him. 

"I miss you, Daddy," she said. That made him feel good. He had only been 
gone since the previous evening but she was already telling him that she 
missed him. He liked that. He didn't recognize that, since she really meant 
that, missing him after such a short absence wasn't such a positive thing. 
It wasn't even a very healthy thing. 

But, once he had some dinner and took a long, comfortable bath, and relaxed 
on the bed, he started to think about sex. After all, he was away from his 
daughter. 

For a moment he felt guilt about that. Why should separation from his 
daughter be an immediate opportunity for sex? But, then again, it was. He 
couldn't go whoring around in his hometown with his young daughter right in 
the house. But, now that he was in New York City he couldn't see giving up 
this chance, passing up this opportunity. 

Who would be hurt if he were to get laid that night? It had been such a long 
time, such a very long time since he had last been with a woman. He missed 
it. 

And so he got dressed slowly. He tried to look casual, knowing that he 
hadn't brought any casual clothes with him. He put on the grey pants from 
his suit and the sweater he had brought in case it got chilly. He looked at 
himself in the mirror. 

At that time he hadn't yet turned forty. He was a handsome man with dark 
blond hair that was clipped short and a strong, manly jaw. His eyes were 
pale blue. His shoulders were still broad and he was in fine shape. 

Kevin Johnson certainly could have done well in any of the singles' bars in 
New York, but he wouldn't give himself a, chance. He didn't want to have to 
stop and talk to a woman. He didn't want to have to be charming and make 
conversation. 

Those were things that were, somehow, reserved for his daughter. His charm, 
his friendship, his affection. He couldn't see faking those things for any 
other female. 

And so, once he had brushed his hair he knew just where he was going. He 
would go to Times Square. 

He walked slowly in that direction. Since his hotel was on Sixth Avenue, he 
walked down to Forty-second Street first and then he turned right and walked 
along that notorious street. He saw the first of the sex shops. He stopped 
into one and saw the lines of books. 

Quickly he left the shop, blushing at the titles and the headlines of the 
books. 

Then he proceeded, watching the crowd moving around him, hearing the hawkers 
trying to sell him all sorts of drugs and all sorts of other items as well. 

"Tuinols! Black beauties! THC! Acid!" The words were shouted into his ear as 
if he were at a carnival in the depths of hell. He walked a little faster 
when he came to the block that was bordered by Broadway on one end and 
Eighth Avenue on the other end. 

And then he was at Eighth Avenue and there seemed to be a lower rung that he 
had not expected. 

Just when he thought he had sunk as far as he could, he saw the life on that 
Avenue. 

How did that lyric really go? The "Avenue of broken dreams?" This seemed to 
be the final avenue of dreams, the avenue of the few dreams that were left 
for those who had been sucked dry everywhere else. 

He wandered to the right and he saw the pimps with their fine, wide-brimmed 
hats. He heard the hawkers and then he saw the girls. 

They were leaning back against the walls of the buildings. 

One of them smiled at him. She was black and she had breasts which seemed to 
be displayed out of her spread open bodice. 

He walked another two blocks. This was too frantic, too frenzied. He 
couldn't think with the noise all around him. He couldn't make any 
commitment to any girl like that. 

Once he was traveling in that direction he realized that he was going back 
up toward the direction of the hotel. He figured that he would give up on 
his plan. He would forget about finding a whore. 

And just then he saw a young blonde girl standing and leaning against a car. 
She didn't have the make-up on that the others had. Her clothes were 
revealing, but not nearly as garish. They didn't attract attention the way 
the other outfits did. 

He looked at her for a long moment. He stopped in his tracks and he was 
staring at her. 

And then a fear gripped his heart. This girl, he assumed, was certainly not 
a hooker. She didn't look common like the other girls. She would think he 
was trying to get fresh. He tried to turn away from her, but was too 
fascinated by her youthful beauty. 

She looked right into his eyes and she smiled at him. She was, indeed, 
hooking. 

"Interested?" she asked the man in a sexual voice that offered great 
possibilities. 

He took one step closer to her and asked, "How old are you?" 

"Fuck off, mister," she said, moving away from him. "I'm working." 

"Okay. Yes. I'm interested," he said, making her stop in her tracks. 

"I don't work cheap," she said, playing him like a fish on a line now that 
she knew that he was so very interested. She turned to face him, revealing 
her sexy body. 

"I'll pay you fifty dollars," he blurted out suddenly. He was surprised as 
he heard himself making that offer. But, he wasn't going to rescind the 
offer once it was made. 

"Swell," she said, moving closer to him. "Fifty?" She paused after she 
repeated the figure and looked right into his eyes as she asked, "You want 
something... special?" 

The girl was used to receiving much less than fifty dollars and that was her 
asking price for a man who wanted something special. To the girl the words 
'something special' meant bondage and sado-masochistic games. To the man it 
meant something warm and affectionate. At least that was the way he 
interpreted it right then and there. 

He nodded his head and said, "Yes. I'd like it to be special." He almost 
blurted out the fact that it had been a long time since he had been with a 
girl, but he held that back. He suddenly felt that information was rather 
embarrassing and so he kept it to himself. 

"I know just the place where we can go. Say, have you got another ten bucks 
for a motel room? I'll try to get the desk clerk to work it down to seven 
bucks. If this clerk is on who's a friend of mine. that'll be easy enough." 
As the girl spoke, the man was seething up inside. He remembered his first 
response to her. Her look was one of purity. Her beauty seemed to reflect 
good breeding and loveliness. He had been sure that she wasn't a whore. Now 
she was sounding so much like a whore that he felt anger rising inside him. 

He was feeling anger toward the girl who was walking alongside him. 

They went into the place she indicated and he paid for the room. Then they 
went upstairs together. 

"Okay," she said, as soon as the door was closed. "You wanted something 
special." She giggled and licked her lips. "Why don't you tell me what you 
want." 

The heat was rising up his neck as she licked his ear. "Come on, sweetie. 
Don't be embarrassed. I've done a little bit of everything. You just have to 
tell me what you want." 

He pushed her away from his ear, feeling quite annoyed by the whole thing. 
"I want you to stop calling me sweetie, for one thing." Then he had her 
wrists in his hand and she fell to her knees in front of him and looked up 
at him with adoration in her eyes. 

"Yes, master!" she said, sensing the man's desire to play a dominant role. 

It was all confusing to him. He knew nothing of sexual dominance and 
submission. He only knew that he had felt pissed with the girl, annoyed with 
himself for taking her there and offering her such a large amount, and 
irritated by the feeling of her tongue in his ear. 

She, being a professional, immediately interpreted his sincere irritation as 
being his expression of sexuality. And so, she was on her knees in front of 
him. bowing her head. 

"Is this how you're going to give me something special?" It was a sincere 
question. He had expected affection from her. Deep in his heart he knew that 
he wanted to imagine that he was making love to his daughter. Now he was 
openly angry with her. 

He was angry because she was acting like a whore in every way, rather than 
acting like his daughter would have acted, prim and proper. And he was also 
angry at himself because he felt so much guilt about the sexual passion he 
had wanted to play out. 

Now that the blonde girl was on her knees in front of him, it was quite a 
chance to express that anger. 

He tossed her onto the bed and she did not fight back. She just sprawled out 
there and he landed on top of her. He started to pull off her clothes. 

"Hey, you'll rip them!" Now she was no longer playing her sexual game. 

But the man didn't care. He hadn't been playing a game from the time he had 
started. He wasn't sexually experienced enough to know that such games 
existed. Perhaps, at the start of his married life he had thought of such 
things, but they had always remained fantasies to him. They had always 
remained locked away in the deep recesses of his brain. 

Soon the pleasures of simple sexual contact with the woman he loved replaced 
the fantasies of sexual gamesmanship. They replaced the fantasies of 
dominance and submission since he found that he was unable to think of his 
wife in those terms. 

He loved that one woman in his life. Well, he loved his daughter as well but 
he kept telling himself that his love for the young girl was different from 
the love for his wife. 

But the days of love for his wife had been numbered. He hadn't been able to 
keep her with him on this mortal plane. His pleasures were replaced by 
nothing at all. He had bitterness and he had his cold world, but that was 
all that he had. 

And there was a bigger and bigger -vacuum left inside him, a vacuum that had 
once been filled with love and was now filled with a hundred different mixed 
emotions. There was too much empty space in his heart. Too much empty space 
in his loins. 

There was a chance for fear to creep inside him. There was a chance for 
anger to creep into him. He would see a sexy girl on the campus, a girl who 
was obviously moving her ass from side to side, and obviously getting the 
boys to look at her body because of her clinging clothes. 

And when he saw that girl he would feel a rage rising up inside him. Was 
this what the younger generation was coming to? Was this the world that his 
daughter would be growing up in? Would his daughter be exposed to all of 
this? Then he imagined Ivy wearing pants like that and showing off her rear 
end to all the boys, and he was filled with dread and fear. 

He could feel his cock rising at the thought. Ivy was so beautiful. Ivy was 
more beautiful than any of the other girls around. She would be so sexy 
dressed like that. 

The man felt the passion for his own daughter, but it was mixed with anger 
at himself for feeling that passion and it was .mixed with dread at the fear 
of what might happen to his daughter. 

And so, the man was filled with very mixed feelings indeed at the sight of a 
beautiful girl. 

Now that he was in the tawdry hotel room along with the sexy blonde girl who 
had been hooking on the street and he had tossed her down, he pulled her up 
on the bed and slammed himself on top of her. 

She saw the anger on his face and then she was filled with fear. 

"Hey, come on, mister. Don't hurt me. I never did anything to you." 

"Shut up!" he snarled, slapping her across the face. His knees were on 
either side of her arms, holding her in place. He was opening the front of 
his pants and pulling out his dick. 

She looked up and tried to plot an escape. She was also filled with fear. 
There were nuts all around the Times Square area. She had been offered the 
protection of a pimp, but she had refused to take it. 

She knew that something like this might happen, that she might end up being 
beaten up by some maniac, but she didn't want the part with the percentage 
that the pimp wanted. 

And so she was on her own there in the hotel room with the man over her. His 
cock was pulled out of his pants. When he looked down at her, he saw the 
fear in her face. 

"What are you looking like that for?" he snarled down at her. 

"Look, man, I just do this shit to make a living. I gotta do something to 
live." 

"How old are you?" he asked, repeating the first question he had ever asked 
her. 

"Is that what's eating you, man? I'm sixteen, okay? My folks kicked me out 
of the house because they didn't like my choice of a boyfriend. So... where 
was I supposed to go? 

"Hey, man, are you okay?" she continued, her voice showing concern because 
of the glazed look in his eyes. 

She looked up at his cock, which was beginning to go soft now. "What's the 
matter? Hey, man, do you see a... don't take this question the wrong way, 
man, but... do you ever go to see a psychiatrist? 

I mean, are you... okay, man?" She swallowed hard, no longer seeking a way 
out. 

He slumped back on his heels. His erection had been more than a physical 
thing and it had been lost for more than a physical reason. He was thinking 
about his daughter now. She was so close to the age of this girl. Could the 
same thing happen to her? 

And with that thought he found that he was no longer sexually aroused. The 
dread took over. 

The girl who was lying on her back on the bed, lying where he had tossed 
her, sat up then and looked into the man's face. She moved her head down and 
pressed her lips against the head of his cock. She opened her lips and 
wrapped them around the cock head. 

He was the one who was lying back then. His legs were spread and his pants 
were up. Only his cock was pulled out of the fly of his pants, but as she 
started to work her lips up and down on the length of the penis she reached 
into the fly opening and pulled his balls out. 

She was playing with the balls as she sucked on the cock. 

The girl had a professional tongue. Her lips moved up and down and her 
tongue moved from side to side. She was exciting the man's cock as much as 
she could and it was working. She could feel the stiffness that was growing 
in the middle of his cock. It felt as if his penis was turning into an iron 
bar. 

Then she really moved her mouth up and down on the cock, massaging the 
bottom of it with her tongue. It was as though the sensitive flesh on the 
bottom of the cock was being urged to give forth the juices that was buried 
in the man's nuts. He could feel the way his balls were boiling. 

She could feel the stiffness growing in the penis. She could feel the cock 
head flaring out. Even as her tongue was being depressed in her mouth by the 
pressure of the bottom of the cock, the flared head of the penis was rubbing 
along the roof of her mouth. 

The cock pulled back out of her mouth and she could feel the flare of the 
glans pulling back at her lips. The man was trying to pull away from her. 
The cock slipped free. 

But he was excited now. He was excited in spite of himself. 

She slid her lips around one of the sacs of his balls and she worked her 
tongue against the wrinkled, hairy flesh that was the ball sac. She could 
feel the nut jiggling in the sac and she pressed it up against the roof of 
her mouth, working and exciting the bit of flesh with her tongue on one side 
of it and the roof of her mouth on the other side. 

The man pulled his body away from her and she tried to nip a bit of the 
flesh of his ball sac. 

He looked down and realized that he was absolutely stiff. Then he looked at 
the girl and he pushed her back down onto the bed, spreading her legs. Then 
he pressed the head of his cock against her cunt lips. Since her slacks and 
panties had been ripped, it was an easy matter for him to get at the pussy 
slit. 

His nervous fingers spread open the lips of her pussy and then the head of 
his cock replaced the fingers right there. Once he had pushed his way into 
her he could feel the cunt lips slapping shut around the flared head of his 
cock. 

Then he pushed forward and he could feel the interior pussy lips welcoming 
his prick. 

He slid the full length of his cock all the way inside her body and he could 
feel the warm and moist flesh that was wrapped around the full length of his 
cock. 

Working his dick in one direction and then in the other he was moving his 
cock in and out of her, slapping hard against the depths of her cunt and 
against all sides of her insides. 

She was pushing her hips up to meet his thrusts and it hardly took two 
minutes before he felt his prick exploding inside of her. He shut his eyes. 
"Ivy," was on his lips. 

His body was being drained into the depths of the wet and hot cunt. 

But he pulled his dick out before he finished shooting his load into her. 
His cum splashed onto the girl's body, onto her ripped panties. He pulled 
away and got off the bed. 

He had his back turned to the girl. She was looking at him and wondering 
what strange thoughts were going on in his head, what thoughts had brought 
about his strange performance. 

"Are you okay, mister?" she asked him, figuring it would be better to stay 
on his good side. 

He was in the process of stuffing his dick back into his pants. He reached 
into the back pocket of his pants and took his wallet. Then he counted out 
fifty dollars and tossed it onto the bed without looking at the girl. 

"You know, you ripped my clothes here. I wasn't counting on you ripping this 
stuff. I'll have to buy new stuff and now I'll have to lose more money by 
going home and getting changed." 

The man tossed another ten dollar bill on the bed. This was quite expensive 
for a college professor, but it was a one time thing for him. That's the way 
he reasoned it. 

No, he didn't really reason it at all. He just wanted to give her the money. 
He wanted her to stop talking. He wanted to get out of there. Love had 
always been a beautiful thing for him and his wife. 

This sex with a hooker was no replacement for that. 

He felt as if he had been dirtied by the whole experience. He rushed from 
the room. 

"Hey, mister, look for me again sometime. Okay? For sixty bucks you ain't so 
bad." 

Those were the words he heard as he went running down the hall. He didn't 
hear the girl mumbling to herself, "A million nuts in the city. But, as long 
as he didn't hurt me... " There was a wistful note in her words, a sad note, 
as if she sensed that she might not be so lucky the next time she took the 
same sort of chance with a man. 

She just hoped that it would be just as easy next time, maybe even nicer. 

CHAPTER TWO 

Now it was two years later. Of course the man hadn't told his daughter about 
the incident with the whore in New York. 

In that same way, his daughter hadn't told him that at the party she had 
attended a year before that she had let a boy kiss her and even press his 
body against hers. 

She knew that all of the other girls in school had gone much further than 
that, and she also knew that her sexual hunger and passions called out for 
more satisfaction than that. But, she had held back. She felt guilty about 
doing anything when she felt such love for her father. 

And yet, the deepest guilt she felt was because of the love for her father, 
because of the passion for her father. 

She didn't realize that the relationship between her and her father was 
going to change, and very soon. She didn't know that something would happen 
on an innocent afternoon that would turn her life upside down. 

That afternoon her father was in his office on the campus. He looked at the 
list of the students who had signed up for appointments to meet with him. 
The last student was out in the hall. He went to the door and invited her 
in. 

She was a shapely young woman. Although she was only nineteen, she looked 
older because of the way she wore her make up and because of the clothes she 
was wearing. Her sweater showed off her beautiful breasts underneath the 
thin fabric. Her skirt showed off her shapely hips. 

Her hair was black and it was up on top of her head, worn in a rather out of 
date style. 

She carried her books in her arms, cradling them against one of her breasts. 

"Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Johnson," the girl said as she settled herself 
into a seat. 

He nodded to her and said, "It's my job, Miss Langford." 

"Oh, please call me Melissa," the girl smiled as she put her books onto the 
seat next to her. 

"I'm going to still insist that you call me Dr. Johnson. I worked a little 
too hard to earn that title." 

"Certainly," she said, batting her eyelashes and looking very sexy. 

"Now, what can I do for you, Melissa?" he asked, wishing to get home. 

"It's the poor grades I've been receiving, sir. I know you wanted to talk to 
me about them." 

"Oh, yes," he said, thumbing through his grade book. "At the beginning of 
the semester you were getting quite respectable grades and now... on the 
last two papers that you've handed in you received grades of D and D- 
respectively. Now on this paper I've had to give you an F. You know that 
you're the only student getting an F on this one and yet you started the 
semester with grades in the B range. Is something confusing you in the 
work?" 

"No, sir. It's kind of you to ask. But, it's a personal problem." 

"Can I be of any help to you at all? I know I'm only your English professor, 
but I hate to see a student's educational opportunities going down the 
drain, Melissa." 

"Thank you, sir. Actually, it's nothing that embarrasses me. I'm a rather 
liberated woman. I just broke up with my boyfriend. Actually I broke up with 
him the week before the D-paper was handed in and it's really been making a 
mess of my nerves." 

"Well, I'm glad to see you're able to discuss this calmly, now, Melissa. I 
can understand how you were heartbroken. I don't belittle youthful 
relationships and I can see where this might have left you terribly scarred. 
If you like, I'll give you a chance to... " 

"Oh, no, sir. I wasn't crying or anything about it. Actually, I was the one 
who split with him because he was such an ass hole... Oh, excuse my 
language, Professor. I just mean that he believed in all these antiquated 
ideas about women. He had these conservative views." 

"Well, Melissa, perhaps I don't understand just what's troubling you then." 

"Frankly, Professor, I said that this didn't embarrass me because I consider 
myself to be liberated, but I... don't wish to embarrass you with my frank 
remarks." 

"I can assure you that my study of English literature has put me in contact 
with remarks that have been much franker than any you could make, Melissa. 
However, if you feel that I'm intruding in your personal life, please tell 
me that I should... stop." 

"Oh, no, sir. You know, all the students always say that you're one of the 
best teachers here because you really care about your students as 
individuals." 

The man blushed a little bit. He considered himself a professional and felt 
uncomfortable with compliments. 

"Frankly, sir, it involves sex. I guess I'm a rather lusty girl and when I 
don't have sex regularly I feel high-strung and I'm not able to concentrate. 
Well, I'm not some whore who's willing to put out for any guy who comes 
along. I like the guy to be intelligent and nice and someone I like." 

There was a long pause and then Dr. Johnson asked, "How old are you?" 

"Nineteen, sir," she said with a smile. "I'm already a junior." 

"I'm a little surprised that a girl of nineteen should be... " He felt too 
awkward to continue. 

She shrugged her shoulders and laughed. "I don't mind admitting that I'm a 
lusty girl." 

He met her eyes across his desk. Her eyes were very black and she was 
looking directly into his face. "Would you like to help me with my problem, 
sir? Would you really like to help me?" 

Clearing his throat, the professor asked, "What do you mean, Miss Langford?" 

"Melissa. Remember?" She grinned and showed him her dimples. 

"Well, I don't want to step over the bounds of professional... " 

"You're a man, professor. You must know that you're a very appealing man." 

He stood up from behind his desk and tried to adjust his jacket so that his 
erection wouldn't show in the front of his pants. "People might get the 
wrong idea." 

"How would they get the wrong idea?" she asked, brushing her fingers boldly 
against the front of his pants. "Who would ever tell them? I know that you 
don't have a wife... " 

"That's something personal. I lost my wife and do not discuss that with... " 

"All I meant is that I know you must have your own needs. Couldn't I fill 
them?" 

"Melissa, what if I give you a better grade next week and someone thinks 
that it's because of this, because you and I were together and we... " He 
blushed. 

"Come on, Professor. You will give me a better grade next week because my 
paper will be better next week. If I have you, if I have sex and your body 
and I... Oh, it's what I need." 

She was standing up and pressing her well-rounded body against his body. She 
pressed her lips firmly against his lips and wrapped her arms around his 
neck. He wrapped his arms around her body and held her even tighter against 
his body. He was feeling the back of her dress and moving his fingers down 
to her well-rounded ass. She was so soft and so feminine. 

His cock responded to those feelings, to those erotic sensations. 

She tried to push against him, but he refused to budge. Then she eased 
herself backwards. The man's desk was perfectly neat. There was a blotter 
there and some pens that were lying next to it, but nothing in her way as 
she eased herself back onto the desk. 

The girl looked up at him, wanting him to follow her backwards onto the 
desk. 

He climbed on top of her and pressed his body down against her body. Then 
his lips brushed lightly against her lips. "Is this what all the girls in 
the college are like?" 

"Oh, Professor," she said, giggling a little bit. "You say such things." 

She reached to her side and unzipped her skirt. Then she wriggled out of it. 
He was aware of something slippery next to him and when he reached down he 
saw that she was wearing a shocking pink slip. When she saw the expression 
on his face, she said, "I have a bra to match." 

"Come on," she urged him. "Get out of that suit. Get comfortable." 

He looked toward the door of the office and then said, "But, the... uh... " 

Before he could express the thought in any more coherent terms than that the 
girl said, "Why do you think I took the last appointment of the day? And why 
do you think I locked the door when I came in?" 

He hadn't noticed that, but now as he looked at the handle of the door, he 
saw that the latch was in a horizontal position, meaning that it was locked. 
He turned back toward the girl. 

"Come on," she said as she peeled off her sweater. "Get comfortable." 

She slipped off her sandals as well and then she was wearing her satin slip 
and her satin bra. 

The girl kept on running her hands over her own flesh and feeling herself 
up, exciting her flesh as she did so. 

Johnson tossed his jacket off and then untied his tie and tossed that onto 
the floor as well. He pulled down his pants and tugged them off over his 
shoes. Then he was standing in his shirt and his undershorts. He smiled 
nervously at the girl and looked at the door once more. 

He looked down at the girl with such a guilty expression on his face, that 
she said, "You're doing this because I want you to do it. Okay? Can you 
accept that?" 

Then he unbuttoned his shirt and climbed on top of the girl. He could feel 
the satin fabric sliding next to his flesh. It was so soft and so sexual 
that he thought he would cum just from rubbing against her. Here was a nice 
girl, a college girl, and she wanted all the sex she could get. 

"It worries me that... uh... " He stammered, not knowing just what he wanted 
to say. 

"There's nothing to worry about, Professor. I don't want any relationship or 
anything." 

He blushed. The more the girl said, the more upset he was becoming. 

In spite of the fact that he was a man with male sexual desires, he was also 
a father with the fears of a father. When he saw this girl acting in such a 
brazen fashion, it disturbed him, knowing that his daughter might do the 
same. 

"Besides," she said with a little laugh. "I take the pill." 

"Okay, damn it." The man snapped those words out. The girl didn't understand 
the reason for his suddenly gruff behavior. But, she wasn't given a chance 
to respond. 

He tossed her legs up and pushed her satin slip up her legs. Then he tugged 
her panties down with great speed and skill and he tossed them onto the 
floor. When he spread her legs up in the air, then her slip was pushed all 
the way up to the waistband. 

While the man was doing that, the girl reached around behind her and took 
off her bra. She wanted to reveal her breasts to him. She was quite proud of 
them. 

"Play with my tits. Come on, play with them. That always gets me wet and 
ready." 

He reached both hands down to her tits and quickly wrapped his thumb and 
forefinger around each of the nipples. He pulled very hard on the flesh of 
her tits and dug his nails into the already excited flesh. He saw how 
quickly her tits grew erect and firm. 

Rubbing his thumbnail on one side of each tit and his index fingernail on 
the other side he was almost trying to saw through the delicate flesh of the 
nipples. 

"Not so hard. Not so hard," she cried out, trying to push his hands away. 

"I thought this was what you wanted, Melissa," he hissed at her. 

Her eyes went wide. She was startled by the gruff tone of voice that he used 
just then. "Dr. 

Johnson, I don't want you to hurt me. I don't want you to do it like... " 

"Okay," he said, pulling his undershorts down and revealing his stiff 
erection. "Ill just do it to you and get it over with." He was already 
positioning the head of his cock against her pussy lips.' "Wait, Dr. 
Johnson," the girl said, tears forming in her eyes. "I didn't want you to 
think that I was just some kind of whore who wanted you to slam my pussy." 

"Then, what did you expect me to think when you came across like that, young 
lady?" 

The head of his cock was between the moist lips of her labia. He could feel 
the warm flesh wrapping itself around the flared head just the way some warm 
clay might wrap itself around the shape of the cock head. 

He pushed a little to the right and to the left and then he found the direct 
path that he wanted. He pushed forward and shut his eyes as he felt the 
pussy flesh spreading open and leaving a path for his thick cock to enter. 
The girl wrapped her legs around his waist. 

Then the man slid all the way into her and he felt the soles of her naked 
feet pressing down against his bare ass cheeks, urging even more of him 
inside of her body. 

And then he slammed all the way into her body and he could feel the pussy 
flesh that spread open for him. His balls were right up against the soft 
flesh between her legs. 

He pulled back a little bit and the flared head of his cock was massaging 
against the delicate flesh of the cunt. Then he started to move in and out 
of the hot hole. 

The girl was moaning and grunting as she felt the cock working against her 
pussy flesh. She reached her arms up and tried to pull the man's face to 
hers so that she could kiss him, but he resisted. 

He was fucking her, thinking that she was a shameless whore, and yet he 
wouldn't kiss her now. He felt too much contempt for her lack of morals even 
as he thrilled over the feeling of her pussy flesh. 

Although he had always considered himself a liberal when he was younger, 
having a daughter who was at an impressionable age, a daughter whose welfare 
was his first concern, made him feel differently about matters. As a man he 
was fucking Melissa's cunt. But as a father he hated Melissa. 

And so his prick slammed very fast into her body and men he felt his balls 
drained suddenly of their juice. 

The girl grunted as she felt her pussy flesh clasping tight in response. 

Ivy didn't realize that she was moving on a collision course with her 
father. 

It was now a little bit more than a week after her father had been through 
the incident in his office with Melissa. He was tense from that. His 
daughter had just started to talk about colleges. Of course she could have 
gone to the college where he taught without paying any tuition, but he was 
concerned about giving her a chance to grow up and expand. 

He had told her the previous month that it might be a better idea for her to 
go to a college that was out of town. He thought that it might be time for 
him to cut the apron strings that held her to him. 

He expected protests from the girl since she had already told him that she 
had no desire to leave the house, but she did not protest. 

Suddenly the girl started to think of her father. Was he making this 
suggestion because he wanted to have a chance to live his own life? The girl 
was growing up and beginning to realize how demanding she had been of her 
father's time and attention, beginning to realize that since he was a man 
with his own needs and longings, he wanted some privacy. 

Her only response had been, "Well, certainly somewhere in the Northeast." 

The man was surprised by that. "At least you'll be able to visit home 
often." 

"Yes, Daddy," she said. "And besides, all of the best colleges are still 
here." 

"Yes," he agreed, sounding a little distant because of her willingness to 
leave him. 

The tension was growing between them. He looked at his daughter and wondered 
about her thoughts. Would she grow up to be just like Melissa, longing for 
cocks to fill her up? 

He felt distant from his daughter for that reason. The girl sensed the 
distance, but not the reason. 

She was growing more and more self-conscious about the passion she felt for 
her father. Was that the reason that the distance was there, she wondered? 

And then it was the day. Then it was the day that everything exploded in a 
fit of passion and frenzy. 

It was only one day that changed everything, one series of incidents. 

The girl only had a half day of school that day since it was the last day 
before her spring vacation. 

She was wearing a lovely checked skirt and a beige blouse and a light 
sweater over her blouse because of the very slight chill in the air. 

It was a beautiful day. She knew that her father would be home grading test 
papers since he had just given his class their mid-term exam the previous 
day. The class wouldn't get the test results until after the spring recess 
was over. 

She hurried home, wanting to change out of these domes and take advantage of 
the nice weather. 

The weekends had been miserable and the girl had been stuck indoors in 
school during the weekdays when there had been a few bits of pleasant 
weather in the air. 

When she walked into the front door of the big old house she put her books 
down on the table that was to one side in the hallway. Then she looked into 
the door of the front room that was just beyond that table. That was the 
room where her father had his office at home. 

There were test papers strewn all over the table and he seemed to be in the 
middle of something. 

But her father wasn't there. Just then she became aware of a sound from 
upstairs. 

It was the sound of the water running in the bathroom right over her head. 
She decided to surprise her father. She didn't call out from the bottom of 
the steps as she might have done. 

Instead, she went up the steps as quietly as she could. She saw that the 
telephone was pulled across the hallway and was right outside of the 
bathroom door. The bathroom door was open just a slight crack. She figured 
that was to let her father hear the phone. 

She paused in the hallway and felt a cold flush rushing over her body. She 
knew the layout of the bathroom. She knew that if she peeked into the crack 
she would be able to see her father lying in the bathtub. For a long moment 
she remained in the hall. 

The water kept on running in the bathtub. She heard it finally stop. 

She peeled off her sweater and tossed it onto her own bed in her own room 
and then she turned back toward the hallway. How much harm would there be? 
She wondered about that. What harm would there be if she got a chance to see 
her father's naked body? 

For years she had been touching herself, stroking the insides of her pussy 
and enjoying the thought of her father's imagined nudity. Now, perhaps, she 
would actually see him! 

And, with that thought in mind, with the notion that she just wanted a quick 
glimpse, she moved back toward the bathroom door. She crouched along the 
crack that was standing open and she peeked through there to see if she 
could see into the room. 

Yes. She had a view of one side of the bathroom. She had a view of the edge 
of the bathtub and of her father's head as he moved a little to one side. 
But, the rest of the view was blocked. The half of the bathtub closer to her 
was covered with a shower curtain. 

She was in an uncomfortable position because she was squatting. The position 
was also uncomfortable because she could feel the heat of her pussy flesh 
right up against her panties. 

And she knew that she wasn't going to leave the position until she saw her 
father's cock. That was the goal of the luscious sixteen-year-old girl. It 
was curiosity she told herself. But, at the same time she knew that it was 
lust more than it was anything else. 

Then, knowing that her father was naked so close to her, knowing that there 
was such a good chance that she would see his nude form, she started to work 
her fingers against the fabric of her panties. The panties were pulled taut 
because of the squatting position she had assumed. When she pressed her 
fingers against the cloth she could feel her cunt lips through the thin 
layer of fabric. She could feel the heat and the moisture. 

And then she saw some movement behind the plastic curtain. The man was 
letting the water drain out of the tub. He was starting to stand up and was 
reaching for the towel which was folded on top of the sink. 

Lying in the tub, Johnson had started to think about the beautiful girl who 
had come into his office the previous week. He was thinking about the dismay 
he had felt over her lustiness and yet he was also thinking about the 
wonderful sensation of having her pussy flesh around his cock. 

He really had missed the pleasure of having a cunt to fuck.. 

His prick was hard because of the thoughts and as he stood up from the tub 
he saw that it was standing up long and stiff in front of him. He had no 
idea that his daughter was watching the action from behind the slightly open 
door of the bathroom. 

He reached down and started to work his fingers up and down along the length 
of his cock. His prick was fully erect in an instant. He was drying himself 
with one hand as he pumped on his meat with his other hand. Then he stepped 
out of the tub just far enough so that he could sit on the edge of the tub. 
His cock was standing up hard and long. 

With his hand wrapped around the base of his own cock, he was stroking up 
and down along the engorged meat. He squeezed on it and pulled on it as he 
continued to stroke it. 

He spread his legs and felt his ball hanging down against the cold porcelain 
of the tub. 

Then he shut his eyes and leaned his head back. He was pretending that the 
beautiful girl from his college class was on her knees in front of him, on 
her knees sucking his dick. 

He imagined that instead of feeling his fingers he was feeling her mouth. 

Then he took his fingers from around the length of his cock and he licked 
them with his tongue so that they were wet. It was something that his wife 
used to do for his pleasure while she prepared him for fucking her. Once his 
fingers were wet and slick, he put them back on his cock. 

And so his fingers were sliding up and down, fluidly on his dick, as he 
imagined that it was someone's mouth. Yes. The black-haired girl. The girl 
who had offered herself to him. She was so sluttish, so beautiful. And she 
was hungry for cock. That was who he pictured. 

But, as he continued to stroke his prick, as he continued to keep his eyes 
closed and to try to get the projector in his head to throw the images onto 
the screen that was the inside of each eyelid, the picture became vague, 
distant. 

There was another image that was stronger. He saw his daughter on her knees 
in front of him. 

He imagined that he could see the beautiful blonde hair moving back and 
forth as the girl's sensual lips slid over the stiff length of his erection. 
He imagined that he could feel his daughter's tongue sliding against the 
sensitive flesh on the bottom of his cock. 

When he imagined that he thrilled at the thought. His daughter! Yes! How 
wonderful! 

But, at the same time he felt dirty because of the thought. He was imagining 
his daughter giving a blowjob when that was the very thought that he feared 
so much. He felt guilty! 

The pangs of guilt and shame swept over his body! He could feel the 
perspiration on his chest. 

But his cock was still just as hard and insistent as it had been. He kept 
his eyes shut, trying to reach his orgasm. He just wanted to get it over 
with, so that he would be freed from these passions. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, looking in where the door was open 
a crack, his daughter was squatting down. She had pulled her skirts up. She 
felt safe because she saw that her father's eyes were closed. She started to 
frig herself with wild abandon. 

She felt so naughty! She felt so dirty! She was watching as her father 
jerked off. 

And the heat was coursing through her body. She could feel the tingling that 
ran up the length of her spine and then back down to her pussy slit. She had 
to reach her fingers into her panties in spite of the fact that the panties 
were pulled so tightly around her ass cheeks due to her position. 

Her fingers rubbed up and down against her cunt lips and she could already 
feel the moisture that was oozing, boiling out of her body. She wished for a 
chance to pull down her panties, but she wouldn't take that chance because 
she didn't want to shift her position. What if her father were to open his 
eyes, finish what he was doing, and catch her at what she was doing? 
Although that was on her mind, she was also thinking that she didn't want to 
miss anything. She wanted to watch her father. She would never, she 
imagined, get another chance to see his prick in action. 

This was the penis, the forbidden organ, about which she had been dreaming 
all through her innocent years. This was the body that she had longed for. 

And the man looked just as good naked as she had hoped he would. She was not 
at all disappointed. 

Even as she thought of the pictures from the sexy women's magazines, the 
pictures that one of the girls in school had passed around, that were 
centerfolds in the magazines that her divorced mother received, the girl 
knew that her father stacked up well with those. 

The man had a powerfully defined chest and a good, thick crop of golden hair 
covering his body. 

Perhaps his belly was just starting to get a paunch, but certainly less so 
than other men his age. 

And his penis! What a cock it was! It was certainly as long as she might 
ever have wished it to be. 

She concentrated on looking at the cock. She wanted to memorize just what it 
looked like. 

With her eyes glued right to the cock she pushed one finger between her cunt 
lips and wriggled it around inside her body, searching for the little love 
button that would trigger her excitement. She pressed the tip of her finger 
against her clit. She could feel the elastic waistband of her panties 
ripping because of her position. And then she could feel a sensation that 
was inside her body. She was cumming. 

There was an uncontrollable tremor in her body. The girl bit down on her 
lower lip to keep from crying out. But she shut her eyes. This was a moment 
when she was no longer in control. 

And then she felt herself losing her balance. She was squatting down and was 
in a very tenuous position. She knew that disaster was at hand. She knew 
just what was going to happen. She could see the disaster occurring. But 
there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

She tipped to the side and her body crashed against the bathroom door, 
pushing it all the way open. 

She hit her shoulder against the tile floor of the bathroom. Her skirt was 
still up and her fingers were still inside her panties. Her one finger was 
still inside her pussy slit. 

The man certainly knew immediately what had happened. His daughter had been 
spying on him. 

She had watched him jerking off. And she had been playing with her own pussy 
while she watched. 

For a long moment he was so stunned that he was unable to move. He was 
frozen in that position. 

He could feel the confused reactions stirring, boiling up in his body. 

And as he looked at the girl and she looked up at him his fingers remained 
around the base of his stiff cock and her fingers remained at her pussy 
lips. He was completely exposed, completely naked. He could have reached 
over for a towel, but he was too shocked to move that far. 

The silence in the room was palpable. It lasted for one minute and then for 
two and then for three. 

CHAPTER THREE 

Then the girl moved. She started to scramble to her feet. 

As soon as she moved, that seemed to trigger a response in her father. He 
jumped up from his position and landed on her so that she was crushed, once 
more, against the tile floor. 

"Father!" she cried out, stunned by the hot feeling of the head of his cock 
brushing past her bare thigh. 

"Father? I'm no father to you, you little... " He seemed like a volcano that 
was set to erupt. The eruption came with the word, "Slut!" And that was only 
the beginning. 

"You harlot! You tramp! What were you doing? What filthy... ? No! Don't say 
it. I know what you were doing." 

Tears streamed down the girl's cheeks. It had all seemed so innocent such a 
short time before. She had been looking at her father through the crack of 
the bathroom door. She had finally seen his naked body and was treated to 
the added spectacle of seeing him masturbating. 

Now, as she struggled with the naked man, she felt his hands pushing her 
skirt up as she herself had pushed it just a few moments earlier. She tried 
to push his hands away from her but she wasn't strong enough. He was too 
determined, too angry to be subdued. 

He had her pinned to the floor of the room. Then he started to rip at her 
skirt. 

"You'll tear it. Daddy, please don't... " That was as far as the girl got 
when the man hissed and slapped her hard across the face. She was silent. 

She watched, with sobbing countenance as her skirt was ripped from her body. 

Then the man was pulling at her panties. 

She felt her father's large and powerful fingers rubbing right up against 
the lips of her pussy. She tensed up even more than she had been. She had 
just been frigging herself and her cunt lips were quite wet. She knew that 
the man was feeling that moisture. 

"Is this what you do for all the boys in school? Do you expose yourself in 
front of them and get them all excited so that they'll stuff you full of 
cock, you whore?" 

"No! Don't say that. I'm a good girl. I am. Daddy, I am a good... " 

He practically choked her. "Whores! That's all you kids are good for. You're 
a whole generation of whores and all the boys in school are practicing to be 
pimps." 

The girl's lips were moving, but no words were coming out. She didn't know 
what else to say. She didn't know how else she could defend herself. Her 
struggles were over for the moment. 

"So, you don't even want to fight me off," the man said as he ripped off his 
daughter's panties. "You want it. You're all wet down there, just like the 
hungry nympho slut you are." 

Her sobs were so soft that the man couldn't even hear them in the small room 
that was filled with shouting. Her sobs were so soft that he could only feel 
them as he pressed against her body. 

She could feel his long and hard cock that was pressing against one of her 
thighs. It was the same cock she had watched him pumping through the crack 
in the door. 

Now, she was threatened by that hot rammer up against her soft flesh. 

He pulled at her blouse and tore that off as well. She was left with only 
her bra on. He started to fuss with the hooks in the back of that and ended 
up pulling it half-way off, losing patience with the process. But as he 
knocked her around on the floor, it fell off all the way and was soon just 
dangling from one of her arms so that, for all intents and purposes, she was 
naked. 

His body was rubbing against her nude body and she could feel how fresh his 
flesh was, just out of the bath. He could feel how smooth and soft her body 
was since her youthful sensuality was so unblemished and virginal. She had 
never even been naked with a boy. 

But, that was something that her father chose not to believe at that moment. 
His inference from seeing his daughter frigging herself and peeking in on 
his nudity was a severe one. He forgot about the fact that he had been aware 
of all of her comings and goings over the previous year and that there had 
been little, if any, chance that she had been acting in any sort of shameful 
manner. He assumed the worst. His fears made him assume the worst. 

And so, he was acting on that. His naked body was pressing her naked body 
down on the floor of the bathroom. She could feel the impression of the 
tiles that pressed against her flesh. She could feel the force of his 
powerful form that pushed her down from on top. 

"Here," he snarled as he moved up along her body. "This is what you want." 

She opened her eyes and saw that her father was lying in quite a different 
position. His cock was right over her face. He rubbed his dick back and 
forth along her mouth and urged her to open her lips. "Take it, you little 
slut. You're probably an expert at this." 

The girl tried to turn her face to the side, but the man grabbed her by the 
hair and forcing the cock head against her lips, pushed his prick right at 
her lips. 

"Come on!" he reached over and grabbed a handful of one of her tits. 

He pressed his fingers mercilessly against the flesh and then he dug his 
fingernails into the tender flesh of the nipple. The girl screamed out. She 
couldn't help it. 

And when her mouth opened in the scream, she only managed to get half of the 
sound out before it was stifled by the intrusion of the thick prick that was 
shoved forward into her face. 

She could feel the pressure of the hot steel bar that was pressing her 
tongue down in her mouth even as the flared head of the cock was rubbing 
against the roof of her mouth. 

The big head of the cock pressed against the back of the girl's throat. 

He slapped her sharply across one cheek as he hissed, "No teeth or all of 
them go down your throat." 

She shivered all over. This wasn't her father on top of her. This was some 
madman. 

He tried to push more and more of his cock into her throat, but her throat 
muscles naturally repulsed the invasion. She wasn't used to such things. She 
wasn't prepared for such things. 

The girl could feel the way her natural reaction pushed the cock back out of 
her mouth. 

With the cock head sliding back along her tongue, she thought the man would 
be angry. But then he pulled his prick all the way out of her mouth. "Lick 
it. Come on." 

She stuck out her tongue and licked it all over. She had the sense that her 
father was thinking about something Then he pulled away suddenly. He was 
acting in a totally erratic manner. Or, at least, he wasn't clarifying his 
actions to the girl. He slid down her body and she could feel the wetness 
that she had just left on his penis as it brushed along the middle of her 
body. 

And then she could feel the head of the cock right up against the lips of 
her pussy. She tried to press her legs together, but she felt her father's 
powerful hands pulling her open, spreading her apart. 

The head of the cock was right up against the pussy slit. The man pushed the 
flared head between the lips of the vagina and then he pulled them open with 
his fingers so that he could actually get the big mushroom head into the 
tight opening. 

It felt to him as if his cock head were wrapped in warm clay that was 
molding itself to the shape of the flared glans. He moved to one side and 
then to the other. He was spreading her open. 

Then he pushed forward into her body and he could feel the interior pussy 
lips start to spread. He could feel the clitoris that was brushing against 
the head of his cock even as the head of the cock was brushing and exciting 
the sensitive clitoris. 

And then he was aware of the pressure right in front of his cock. He was 
aware of the wall of flesh that was guarding the girl's virginity. For a 
moment he paused and looked into her eyes. Their eyes met, but hers were too 
blurred with tears to see. 

His lips started to move. But this time he was the one who moved his lips 
and was not capable of saying anything. He hadn't thought that the girl 
would turn out to be a virgin. In fact, he could hardly believe that she was 
actually a virgin. 

He had assumed the very worst of her when he caught her at the door of the 
room. 

Now that he was inside her, he started to think. He tried to think sensibly, 
but how sensibly could the man think with his penis already inside the pussy 
of his virgin daughter? 

Could he pull out of her? Could he pretend that none of this had happened? 

No! It would be impossible. It would be ridiculous to even try. And as he 
felt his cock pulsing and throbbing he knew that his penis, stiff as it was, 
without any conscience of its own, would surely not permit him to just pull 
out and stop pursuing his lust. 

And then, just as if his cock were leading him rather than his mind, he 
pushed forward. He knew that the pressure would rip right through her 
delicate hymen and take her virginity, but he didn't care. He wanted to be 
inside her. He wanted all that warmth and sexuality for himself. 

The girl could feel the ripping sensation. She could feel the puling that 
was followed by the stinging that was followed by the heat of her virgin 
blood being spread up along into the depths of her cunt. She could feel that 
sizzling sensation that was coating the wads of her vagina. When the flared 
head of the cock pushed forward it forced the hot blood all the way along 
the walls of the girl's previously virgin pussy. 

It was quite a jolt for her all at once like that. It was a shock to her 
system. 

There was the flesh in the depths of her pussy, flesh that had never been 
touched before, that had never had any contact with anything before, because 
until a matter of seconds before that instant, it had been protected by her 
virgin sheath. 

But, the strange fury that had possessed the man knew no kindness, no gentle 
treatment. 

He pushed all the way into the girl all at once. Even when he felt the moist 
flesh being pulled by his cock because it wasn't wet enough, because it 
wasn't relaxed enough, he continued to push forward into the girl's cunt. 
Then, as soon as his cock slammed against the very depths of her pussy, he 
pulled back a little bit. 

She cried out. She felt as if the man were pulling her inside out. He only 
had her virgin blood for lubricant as he started to fuck in and out of her. 
He ignored the sound of her cry. He ignored everything except the longing in 
his cock that made him start to fuck in and out of her very wildly. 

He slammed forward and pulled back. 

Eventually the moisture deep in her cunt, the moisture that had started to 
dry up out of fear even though it had originally been there due to her own 
frigging, started to return to the flesh because of the friction of the big 
cock. 

The girl could feel the pleasure of the fucking position. She could feel the 
thickening of the flesh deep inside her cunt. The walls of her pussy were 
growing thick, like sponges that were filling up with thick liquid, liquid 
that did not flow as easily as mere water when those sponges were squeezed 
by the invading pressure of the cock, but liquid that oozed out of her body. 

And as the flared cock head was rubbing up and down against the walls of the 
pussy, the pussy walls were rubbing against the sensitive flesh of the cock. 

Each time the man pulled back he could feel the massaging against the flesh 
that was right underneath his cock head. Then when he pushed forward he 
could feel the tingling right against his piss slit. 

He grabbed onto the girl's hips and pulled her into an upward position. He 
pressed his dick a little harder into her body and started to slam in one 
direction and then in another. His fucking strokes were turned, more and 
more, into slamming thrusts because the thickening of the pussy walls was 
creating a narrowing of the fuck runnel. He could feel the walls of the hot 
hole wrapping themselves around his stiff penis as he continually fucked in 
and out of the hole. 

And so he really slammed forward into the girl's body. The flared head of 
his cock was pulling back against her clit each time he pulled his dick 
back. Then the length of the shaft was rubbing right along her clitoris. She 
could feel the love button expanding because of the pressure. 

The girl knew that she was nearing her orgasm and she tried to hold it off. 
She didn't want to cum. 

Her father was so furious with her about everything that he had observed so 
far, her father had turned into a madman rapist, she was terrified of what 
he would think if she were to cum during this rape attack. And that very 
fear on her part was her biggest problem. 

It was the fear that was churning up the walls of her cunt. It was that very 
fear that was making her pussy implode around the invading prick. And then 
the two of them were locked together. 

He could feel his cock pulled into the cunt with great force. 

She could feel the rushing thrust of the cock, as if it were the inevitable 
force of a river. And then she felt the balls moving against the tender 
flesh that was between her legs. It was such a continuous motion, the 
thrusting of the cock and the pressure of the balls rubbing against her 
flesh, that she thought the balls were going to push into her pussy along 
with the rest of the cock. 

Meanwhile her cunt lips were clasping and pulsating around the base of the 
cock. 

The balls were sending their load of juice up into the shaft of her father's 
cock. She could feel the additional pressure as the base of the cock 
expanded to permit the juice to speed up the length of the shaft. She was 
being spread open even wider just at the very moment that her own muscles 
were contracting and trying to get even tighter. 

It was one inevitable force against another. His prick was being pressed and 
squeezed even tighter just at the moment when it was trying to expand even 
wider. 

And so, rather than two simple orgasms, rather than merely permitting her 
cunt walls to collapse around his cock, and rather than merely letting his 
cock shoot, it was a matter of one force holding back the other. It was a 
matter of two explosions setting off a series of tremors, a series of 
pulsating, throbbing earth-jolting tremors. 

His fingers gripped into her flesh. Every muscle in her body tensed up 
wildly. She could feel her legs and her arms stretching out as long as they 
could go. 

And then, when he felt the power in his body beginning to subside, even 
though he knew that he was still cumming, he started to work his prick out 
of her body. 

She shivered all over and so did he. Each little bit of his prick that moved 
along the sensitive flesh of her hot hole was rubbing and being rubbed and 
creating new waves of sensuality through his body. Finally his cock fell 
free of the grip of her cunt. But he was still cumming. He was still 
shooting and some of the creamy gism splashed right against her soft thighs. 

As soon as she felt that her father's cock had fallen free of her hole, she 
clasped her legs together and tried to protect whatever shred of modesty was 
left to her. 

But, the man, his cock messy from the mixture of juices that had filled her 
hole, was hardly finished with his daughter. His cock was still stiff and 
erect. 

It was as though he had been saving up this orgiastic load of cum in his 
balls for years. Even though he had had sex over the previous years, none 
had been like this. This was the one he had been waiting for, the one he had 
been dreading and wishing at the same time. 

Now that he was in the middle of it, he wasn't about to stop. 

He mounted her face once again. The girl was stunned by that move on her 
father's part. 

She started to stammer a protest, but could not find the words, could not 
even form one word. And then the cock was rubbing against her cheeks. She 
could feel the messiness that was on it. 

"No-o-o-o!" she finally grunted in a weak voice mingled with a sob. 

He grabbed her by the hair on her head, actually pulling some of it out of 
her head, and then he pressed the side of his cock against her lips. "You 
can lick it clean." 

She thrust her tongue from her mouth, not daring to contradict or displease 
the man at that point. 

Then she was working her tongue along the cock that was moving against the 
tip of her tongue. 

He slid the tip of it around against her tongue, pressing the head of his 
cock against the tip of her tongue so that she was forced to taste the 
moisture that was oozing from it. 

And then he moved his body up a little bit. 

The girl had been able to taste his cum and her own cunt cream and the 
virgin blood that had all stained his cock. Now she was presented with the 
large balls, unusually heavy since he had just cum, right over her lips. 

"Come on! Lick them also!" She opened her mouth as she heard that command. 

Since the man was right on top of her, his left ball slipped right between 
her lips and then she brushed her tongue along the wrinkled flesh, feeling 
the slight hairs tickling her mouth muscle. 

"Suck on that ball! Come on. Suck on your father's balls, you little slut." 

She wrapped her lips around the ball and then she pressed her tongue against 
the bottom of the ball sac. She was letting it balance against her tongue 
and then she was rubbing it along the roof of her mouth. The man could feel 
his testicle being squeezed between the tongue and the roof of the girl's 
mouth. Then she slid her lips off the ball and she grasped a bit of the 
loose flesh in her teeth, nipping at it. 

In spite of all that the man had done to her, she was careful to only take 
the loose flesh between her teeth. She didn't want to actually do any damage 
to the man. 

Once she had pulled her lips completely off the ball sac, she thrust her 
tongue out of her mouth again and worked it over the side of the ball sac, 
pressing against the moist area of flesh that was locked between his balls 
and his thighs. 

Suddenly she was doing this in a voluntary way. She found that she wanted to 
do it for the man. 

She wanted to please him. She couldn't help herself. She didn't want to be 
blamed. But, she was enjoying the taste of her father's hot flesh. 

Her tongue moved up behind the ball sacs and then it was working up and down 
against the moist flesh that was locked there. She kept on working on that 
flesh and then she felt her father pulling her by the hair once again. "Suck 
it. Take it in your mouth." 

He pulled her face up toward the head of his cock. This time he didn't have 
to force her lips apart. 

This time she willingly took the head of the cock between her lips. 

She slid her lips forward, but found that the head of the cock was, once 
again, pressing against the very back of her throat before she even had half 
of the length of it in her mouth. 

The girl just started to suck back and forth on the penis. 

Ivy wrapped her fingers around the base of the cock and she started to work 
her fingers up and down against the flesh. She was jerking the man off into 
her mouth. 

Because of the way her fingers were moving and the way the cock was moving 
at the same time, the girl could feel the moisture that she was sliding all 
the way down to the base of the cock. 

Her lips moved forward and left a layer of moisture along the hard and hot 
flesh and then her fingers moved toward the base of the cock and spread that 
moisture all the way to the base. 

Then her lips moved back and her fingers moved back at the same time. 
Because her fingers, wrapped around the hardness of the cock, were serving 
as an extension of her mouth, helping to spread the wetness that was there, 
the man was given the impression that the girl was sucking more of his dick. 

But, meanwhile, she was trying her best to get more and more of the cock 
into her throat each time she moved it forward again. She could tell that it 
was inching forward against the back of her throat. Each time she pushed the 
head of the cock against the back of her throat she could feel the same 
pressure, but she knew that it was a pressure caused by a little bit more of 
the length of the cock, that it was a pressure which took a little longer 
each time. Her throat was getting used to the invasion of the penis. 

And so, as she continued to suck up and back on the cock, putting a great 
deal of effort into what she was doing, putting a great deal of effort into 
trying to get the entire cock into her throat. That was a goal which might 
have seemed hopeless a short time before that. 

But, as she continued to suck on the cock, she could tell that she no longer 
had enough room to keep her fingers wrapped around the base of the prick. 
She could tell that she no longer needed to jerk off the base of the cock. 
Each time she pushed her lips forward and felt the cock pressing along the 
length of her tongue, she could feel the thing pushing further back and she 
was aware that her lips were moving ever closer to the base of it. 

Already, as the man worked his hips back and forth, in unison with her mouth 
movements, she could feel his heavy balls swinging and slapping against her 
chin. She could feel the curly pubic hairs that rubbed and tickled against 
her nose. 

But she wanted to bury her face further into the pubic hairs. She could feel 
her father's hips moving with an even greater frenzy. The man was working 
himself back and forth against her face and finally he slammed all the way 
into her throat. 

She could feel the balls pressed against her chin. She could feel the 
movement of the balls in their sacs. It was tickling her chin. The base of 
the cock was expanding, was pressing against her tongue. 

She knew what was going to happen next. 

For a strange moment she thought of pulling her lips back off the length of 
the cock. But. she didn't. 

She knew that she wanted to have what was going to happen. 

And then she felt the flared head of the cock flaring out even wider and she 
felt the juice that shot out of the head of it. splashing, sizzling against 
the back of her throat. 

She could feel the hot gism that oozed down her throat. As she tried to 
swallow the hot cum she could tell that she was urging even more of the 
juice out of the cock. She could tell that because of the way the balls kept 
bouncing in response each time she swallowed. 

And she could even feel the hot cum that was rushing up the length of the 
cock.. It pressed against her tongue before it finally splashed down into 
her throat. 

Finally she gagged. The muscles in her throat pressed against the cock head 
a little too hard and tried to push it out of her mouth. The cock slid back, 
but the man was able to remain in his daughter's mouth, not giving her the 
freedom she longed for at that time. 

She couldn't swallow anymore because her throat was rebelling. Her mouth 
overflowed with hot male cum. It was dripping from her lips. When her father 
finally pulled his cock out of her mouth, her face and her lips and chin 
were all a mess due to the white cream that dribbled there. 

Tears streaked her cheeks and watered down the cock juice on her chin. 

CHAPTER FOUR 

Johnson jumped up and rushed out of the bathroom, suddenly painfully aware 
of the things he had just done to his daughter. He couldn't face her. He 
didn't want to face himself. 

He went into his bedroom and shut the door tight. Then he just sat on his 
bed for a long time. Then he ended up lying on his bed. He didn't want her 
to come in. He didn't know what he would say to the girl. Yes. It was true 
that he had found her frigging herself while she had been looking at him. 

But, then he had gone crazy. 

How could he explain his actions? How could he justify all he had done? 

Stripping the girl, right on the floor of the bathroom, he had fucked her, 
taking her cherry, and then he had forced her to lick his dick off and to 
suck him. 

And by the end of it the rape had turned into mutual sex. The girl had 
willingly served him. 

He hid his face in his own pillow. How could he face the fact that his 
daughter, the only thing he had in the world, the only one he loved in the 
world, had sexual feelings of her own? It was a fact of life. It was 
something that all parents must recognize eventually, but it had been tossed 
in his face in such a brutal, such a terribly brutal manner, that he 
couldn't stand it. He just wanted to curl up and hide his head like an 
ostrich. 

If he opened the door of his room, even to get something to eat, even to go 
to the bathroom, he might see his daughter. He might have to confront her. 
He might be asked to explain something, to have to face up to his own 
actions. 

And so he stayed where he was. He didn't know what his daughter was doing, 
and although pangs of worry jolted through his body, fears of what she would 
do, the full knowledge that she needed his love and support now more than 
ever before, he couldn't face up to it. 

When he had left the bathroom, the girl shivered and remained lying there on 
the floor, sobbing, for a long moment. Then she picked herself up and rushed 
back to her room. 

Only a thin wall separated her from her father. But, in fact, there was more 
than that separating the two of them. She also feared any prospect of seeing 
her father or having to talk to him. Would he come to the door of her room? 

There was a small bag in her closet, the large suitcases all being in her 
father's closet. She took it out of the closet and started to stuff things 
into the bag. 

Tears started down her cheeks again. Where was she going? She didn't know. 

All she knew was that she had to get out of the house. She had to get away 
from her father. She fit all the clothes that she could into the suitcase. 
And then she paused for one slightly sensible moment and wondered what she 
would do for money. 

She had eighteen dollars saved up in a jar on top of her dresser. She took 
that money. Then she crept out of her room, pleased to see that her father's 
bedroom door was still closed. She moved quietly, not knowing what his 
reaction would be. Then she went down the stairs. She knew that he often hid 
money in his Latin dictionary on his desk in the front room. He chose that 
book because it was so rarely consulted by anyone. 

Flipping through the dictionary her heart sank until she came to the back 
cover and discovered mat there was money inside the flap of the back cover. 
There were two twenty dollar bills. At least mat would be something. She had 
less than sixty dollars with which to go to New York. 

Why New York? She was in Pennsylvania. It seemed like a reasonable distance. 
And it seemed to the girl that it would have been pointless for her to go 
anywhere else. There were more people in New York, more opportunities. 
Opportunities for what? She tried not to think about that. 

And so she went directly to the bus terminal, wondering if her father would 
follow her. She was running over various scenes in her head. What if... What 
if... That was the way each of the scenes would begin. And they would always 
lead to the best possible ending. 

What if her father came after her and found her at the terminal and told her 
that he begged her forgiveness for what had happened and told her that it 
would never happen again? She could return home with him and pretend that 
she had never been raped on the bathroom floor. 

But, she knew that wasn't the truth. She knew that she would never be able 
to forget the rape and she would never be able to forget the pain and 
torment that went along with it. 

What if, she wondered, her father came after her and told her that he wanted 
to be her lover, that he wanted her to live with him as his wife? She 
shivered at that thought because it was something for which she secretly 
longed. No! She must put it out of her mind. 

And yet, she imagined the romance. If only her father could make love to her 
in place of the cruel rape. Tears came to her eyes. It was the most hateful 
action her father had ever performed. 

What if she went off to New York and became successful and then came back to 
the town? But, here she paused, she didn't even know what she would do in 
New York. She always heard her father telling her that New York was very 
expensive. How expensive, she wondered? 

She didn't know what she would do when the sixty dollars ran out. Perhaps 
she would call her father, collect, and give him a chance then to reconcile 
himself with her. 

Yes! That was the solution. She convinced herself that she was only going to 
New York to throw a scare into her father due to what had happened between 
them. She convinced herself that she was going to call her father in a few 
days and tell him that she wanted to come home. They would have a tearful 
phone conversation and he would want her back. 

She knew that he loved her. She smiled to herself. It would all be okay 
again. 

And so she bought a ticket for New York and waited in the bus terminal. 
Perhaps her father would show up? But, that was ridiculous. How would he 
know that she was at the bus terminal. 

Finally it was time for the bus to leave. She felt a sinking in her breasts 
and a terrible dread that ran through her body. She was actually going to 
go. But, she felt she had to go. She couldn't just turn around and go back 
to her father then. 

And so she was on the bus that was traveling out of town, along the highway. 

It was a long and slow bus ride with many stops. It was early in the morning 
when she arrived in New York and as she got out of the bus terminal there 
was a dawn haze over the city which gave it a strange look. Of course there 
were a few people out and about because this was New York, the city that 
never sleeps. But the regular denizens of Times Square were all gone. Even 
the most desperate hookers and pimps were asleep. 

This was a strange hour. There was no business for the sex shops. People who 
had been doing drugs, who had spent the whole night in discos, were just on 
their way home, having left still other people at the discos still dancing 
away even later. 

And then there were the people who worked in early jobs, people who had to 
be on duty at one place or another at six or seven in the morning. They were 
already bustling, refreshed after a full night's sleep. They were on their 
way to work. 

This was the world of New York that greeted Ivy as she stepped out of the 
terminal. 

She started to walk uptown, simply because there were more people walking 
uptown. At the next corner she was a little distraught at the sex shops and 
movie theatres that she was passing, but as she got to the following corner 
and saw a hotel she knew she didn't want to go further. 

It seemed to her as if the entire city were made up of these same things. 
She looked up Eighth Avenue as far as she could and she could see the same 
sort of neighborhood. 

She was too exhausted to go anywhere else. 

She had not been able to sleep on the bus. She was sitting next to the 
window and there was an old lady in the seat next to her, an old lady who 
had fallen asleep immediately when the bus left. 

Ivy could scarcely move in the cramped seat and her thoughts were much too 
heavy to permit her to sleep. It was a terribly restless night since she 
hadn't even thought to bring anything along for reading matter. And she kept 
thinking about sex. She kept remembering what had happened with her father 
and she kept shivering in reaction to that. 

It was something that was dreadful to her and yet, at the same time, it was 
very sexual. Because she was thinking about that, she found herself pressing 
her legs together and trying to hold back the moisture that was there. She 
rubbed her thighs hotly. 

And there was no way, in that cramped seat, that she could get any release 
for those sexual tensions. 

Now she just wanted to get into the first hotel she saw and the one just two 
blocks from the bus terminal was it. She had no idea what a hotel would even 
cost her. 

As it was, after paying for her bus ticket and some candy in the bus 
terminal, she now had forty dollars left, not a great deal with which to 
experience New York City. 

The desk clerk looked at her with weary eyes. "You want a room now?" 

She nodded her head, feeling too nervous to speak in response. 

"Well, our check-out time is noon. If you want to move into a room that's 
vacant now men I'll charge you an extra... Well, the room is fifteen dollars 
and I can let you have it for twenty." 

Ivy took out one of the precious twenty dollar bills that she had stolen 
from her father's desk. The man took it and filled out the card for the 
room, pushing it across for the girl to sign. 

"Check-out time'll be noon tomorrow," he said, never actually looking at the 
girl. Then he looked up as he asked, "Unless, of course, you want to pay for 
a second day now?" 

"No," she said as she shook her head nervously from side to side. 

"Didn't think so," he said, turning from her toward the boardful of keys as 
he chuckled, "But you better pay in advance or the door of the room will be 
locked until you do. You understand?" 

The girl couldn't believe the way the man was talking to her. Desk clerks in 
hotels had never dared speak like that when she went on journeys with her 
father. But she felt much too timid, much too guilty to respond to the man. 
The thing the girl didn't realize was that this man had seen so many girls 
in so precisely the same circumstances that he already knew they were 
frightened and guilt-ridden, he already knew they were vulnerable. 

But, if he was cruel in speaking to those girls it was not out of sadism, 
but because he also knew they were irresponsible. Living from hand-to-mouth 
they needed to save every penny they had and they were known to steal as 
well as to skip out on their rent. 

If the girl's rent for the following day wasn't paid by noon that following 
day she would either be locked out of or strong-armed out of her room. 

But, once she was in the room, she couldn't worry about that. She couldn't 
worry about anything except sleep. Anyway, she assured herself, wasn't she 
going to call her father as soon as her money ran out? 

Her father, back in Pennsylvania, still hadn't been able to sleep. When he 
finally left his room, driven out by necessity and severe depression that 
made the room seem to close in on him, he discovered that his daughter 
wasn't in the house. It was late in the evening by then. 

He sat and thought about where she could be. He got into his car, after 
leaving a note in the foyer telling his daughter that if she came home she 
should stay there and promising that he would not harm her in any way. He 
knew that he had to rectify the situation with her. 

And then he started to drive around the town. It wasn't a large town, but it 
was a college town that had a great many hang-outs. There were young people 
everywhere. A young girl walking by herself late in the evening wouldn't 
have been that noticeable. 

Each time he returned in the direction of his home, he went there stopped 
the car with the motor still idling, in front of his house and then went in 
to see if his daughter was home. 

The man didn't know what his feelings were toward his daughter. Or rather, 
the one thing he knew for sure was that he had mixed feelings about the 
girl, very confused feelings. 

At one instant he thought of his love for her, of her devotion for him, of 
the way she had cared for him and cared about him during the years since the 
loss of his wife. He thought of what a fine girl she was, loving and warm 
and affectionate to him always. 

And tears clouded his eyes, tears that grew so thick he had to pull the car 
to the side because he could no longer see. 

Then at another moment he would think about the way his daughter had been 
playing with herself as she looked in on him and anger rose within his 
heart. 

After all he had done for her, after all the years he had devoted to her, 
she paid him back by being a stinking little slut with a hot pussy! When he 
thought that about his daughter he found that he was pressing down on the 
gas and speeding, zooming, threatening the other cars. 

This anger, this hostility, this rage mat was within him was something new 
for the man. 

More and more that was the emotion that was gripping him then. He kept 
saying to himself, "I have to keep myself in check. I'll stay in control. I 
won't go off the handle." 

But even as he was saying that he knew that it was a lie. 

If he had his. daughter then he wondered what he would do with her. How 
would' he treat her and how would she treat him? 

And men an image appeared before him and he saw her in a cage, her arms 
bound to the sides of it and her mouth gagged. He reached in front of him 
and he fingered her cunt lips. His daughter tensed her body. 

Moving his fingers up her body, he pinched each of her nipples in turn. She 
tried to pull away, but the bonds had her hands pulled taut at her sides. 

Then he lit a cigarette very slowly, knowing that he was taunting her. He 
blew the smoke of the cigarette right into her pale blue eyes. 

"You have the same blue eyes that your mother had. But your mother was a 
lady. She was not a slut." 

"No, Papa," his daughter pleaded as his fantasy continued. "I'm not a slut." 

He would make a move to slap her face and she would move her face back, 
showing what complete control he had over her. "You are going to feel the 
pain of my striking palm even when my palm doesn't even make contact with 
your flesh." 

And she felt it. The power of the suggestion in his eyes, the nearness of 
his palm, all of that was enough to assure the girl that she felt whatever 
he told her he felt. 

Then he calmly went back to puffing on his cigarette. He blew a little more 
smoke into her eyes. 

She blinked and coughed a little. Then he brought the glowing red tip of the 
cigarette with in inch of one of her tits. The girl tensed her body 
backwards and the man moved the tip of the cigarette accordingly so that as 
soon as the girl relaxed her body and her breast moved forward, it would be 
the girl's movement itself that would inevitably result in the painful 
burning experience. Finally Ivy had to inhale. She couldn't help it. 

And as she inhaled and as her breast moved outward and her nipple rose, she 
could feel the tip of the scalding hot cigarette pressing right against her 
nipple. 

She cried out and wriggled all around. "Daddy! Oh, my Daddy! Please... " 

"You're no daughter to me. I only made you to fulfill my sexual needs." 

Tears were in her eyes. They were the tears of a loss of innocence. He had 
put them there. Even though this was only his fantasy, he knew everything 
his daughter would do and feel. 

Then he played with the cigarette right next -to the other nipple. She 
teased him, moving the tip of the cigarette closer and further, time and 
time again. 

She pressed the tip of the flaming thing against that nipple, very quickly, 
just so the girl gasped out, and then he brought it right up against the 
other nipple. 

He kept on playing with the tits, back and forth and back and forth. 

And then, suddenly, his hand knowing well in advance just what he was going 
to do, he brought the hand with the cigarette down to the girl's crotch. Her 
legs were spread because her feet were tied to the same sides of the cage as 
were her hands. 

He made a move that seemed to indicate to the girl that he was going to 
bring the tip of the hot cigarette right up against one of the lips of her 
cunt, squashing it out against that most sensitive flesh of all, the flesh 
on her sex lips. 

But, his fingers stopped barely a quarter of an inch from the lips of the 
girl's pussy. He held the tip of the cigarette right there, quivering, so 
close that it might touch accidentally. 

Then he pulled her head back and spit in her face. The spit mingled with her 
tears. 

"Whore!" he growled, sounding more like a grizzly bear than a man. 

And then, moving his hand with as much force and as much certainty as he had 
used before, he quickly thrust it back up v, that be was now threatening her 
breast with the lit tip of the cigarette. 

However, knowing that the same trick did not work twice, this time he didn't 
pause with the tip of the cigarette poised right next to the nipple, but 
pushed it directly forward and did grind out the lit end of the cigarette 
against one of her erect tits. 

The sensation was so sudden and it was so electrical that it actually took 
the girl a long moment after the cigarette was snuffed out before she 
started to cry in pain. 

"What do you want me to do, Father? What do you want me to be for you, 
Father?" 

The girl was screaming during her tears and these were her questions. 

And this is where Johnson's fantasy ended because he didn't know how to 
reply to her. He was no longer abusing her in some strange place with a 
strange cage, but was sitting at his kitchen table and sipping a cup of 
coffee that was making him nauseous, and eating a cookie, surprised to find 
it in his hand and surprised to find the bag empty. 

Even though it had been his fantasy, he couldn't answer the question he had 
asked himself. If he had his daughter bound up and could torture and torment 
her into whatever he wanted her to be, could force her to do whatever he 
wanted to' do, what would that be? 

It upset him to think that his daughter fit the definition of a slut and a 
whore. It upset him to think that she was not pure and might soon go the way 
of many of the girls he saw around the college campus, displaying themselves 
openly and wantonly. 

But, at the same time he knew that he couldn't resist her natural 
sensuality! 

He, himself, was guilty of destroying that very innocence that he sought to 
protect. In fact, he felt it was his responsibility to protect his 
daughter's innocence. He was from a background which told him that it was a 
father's duty to shoot any scoundrel who ruined his daughter. 

Sipping his cup of coffee, Johnson wondered how he should take that. Did 
that means that his ancestors would have had him shoot himself for having 
committed that crime? Was he to play the role of prosecutor and condemned 
man at the same time? 

It seemed that he would, and it seemed that was his problem at the moment! 

He was brimming over with guilt over what he had done to his daughter, but 
he was also filled with hunger. He wanted to do it again. He wanted to do 
more to her! 

And so, as he sat up and waited for morning to come, he was pulled in two 
directions at once. 

When the morning was half over Johnson called the police and explained that 
he had reason to believe that his daughter had run away and that she hadn't 
been back home all night He then added in a soft voice, since he knew that 
the desk sergeant he was speaking to was someone who lived three blocks away 
from them in the small town, "Please. No one has to know about this. Okay?" 

Then he thanked the man and hung up the phone. 

But he had little faith with the police in that town. He went directly to 
the bus terminal. That was the way out of town and he had already determined 
that there was no place in town where his daughter could have stayed for the 
entire night. 

He knew her friends and had already called their homes, said he was just 
doing a little checking up on his daughter and asked each of the mothers 
whether his daughter had been there the previous evening. He didn't want to 
arouse suspicion, but he figured that he was arousing suspicions that he was 
a little severe with his daughter and he didn't mind those. Each mother 
hedged a little and then told him that Ivy hadn't been the night before. 

So, he went to the bus terminal and started to ask if he could speak to the 
staff members who had been on duty the previous night. It was later in the 
afternoon before he was finally able to contact someone who remembered 
seeing Ivy and who remembered having sold the girl a ticket to New York 
City. "She was such a beautiful girl I couldn't easily forget her," that 
older man said. "You must be awfully proud of her, sir." 

But Johnson didn't hear those words. He was still hearing the death knell 
ringing in his ears and the sound of the clanger was "New York! New York! 
New York!" 

He bought a ticket for the next bus and then, finding that it was three 
hours away, went back home and packed a suitcase. Then he stopped at his 
bank and took some money with him. 

That was all he had time for. He was on the next bus, out on a wild chase 
after his daughter. But, would it prove to be a hopeless chase after his 
daughter? A hopeless chase through with lower depths of New York's seediest 
district, Times Square. 

Where could a sixteen-year-old beauty have gone? What money did she have 
with her? Had his fears of her being a tramp in school actually caused her 
to turn to professional prostitution out on Eighth Avenue in Manhattan? And 
what would he do if he found her? 

Would he want to kiss her and hold her to him? Or would he want to kill her 
for the shame she had brought upon his family? Wait! She hadn't brought 
anything onto his family yet. She hadn't brought anything at all on herself. 
Her only crime had been peeking at him in the bathroom. 

His heart pounded loudly as his thoughts took this circuitous roller coaster 
ride and he realized that, indeed, he felt guilty. He felt that he was to 
blame for everything that might be happening to his daughter and that 
thought was like a dagger twisted in his heart. 

The ride to New York was tedious and disturbing - the ugly underbelly of New 
Jersey, the smoggy tunnel under the river. Never before had the island of 
Manhattan seemed so ominous to him. He was traveling here because the island 
had become a dragon, a monster that was in the process of devouring his fair 
princess. But, he didn't know whether or not he would be going there to save 
the princess or to help with her destruction. 

He was a very strange knight in armor, indeed and a strange journey was 
ahead of him. 

CHAPTER FIVE 

When Ivy woke up in the seedy Times Square establishment, the first thing 
she thought about was her stomach. She was hungry. The second thing she 
thought about was her money. 

There was one more twenty dollar bill that she had and that was alt. As of 
noon the following day she would have to pay rent on the room for another 
day. She would owe another fifteen dollars. She had to spend no more than 
five dollars on food over the next two days. 

She took a shower and then dressed. She felt refreshed, almost forgetting 
her problems. Then she went down to the street. It was very strange for her. 
She was wide awake now, just as if it were morning, when in fact it was the 
early evening when people were on their way home from work. 

It was just a strange thing because of the way she had stayed awake the 
previous night. 

She passed a pizza stand and then other food stands, but decided that it 
wouldn't be enough good food for the money. She would have spent two of her 
precious five dollar reserve for just two slices of pizza and one soda. Then 
what would she be able to eat the following day? 

"You look like you're lost around here," a man's deep voice said. 

She turned suddenly and was looking into black eyes and looking at a 
handsome face that had a little black curl hanging down in the middle of the 
forehead. 

"You need any help around this neighborhood?" he asked the girl. "You can 
ask me." 

"I... Do you know anyplace where I could get something to eat. . that would 
be filling and... you know, good for me, but wouldn't be... uh... " She 
blushed. 

"You want someplace inexpensive?" the man asked. She noticed his warm and 
fatherly tone. 

Although he was much too young to be her father, there was something 
confident about him. He was wearing a tan suit with a pink shirt and a deep 
brown tie. He seemed to be either Italian or Greek or perhaps Hispanic. He 
spoke with a smoothness and a deep beauty to his voice. 

She nodded her head. She wanted something inexpensive, that was true. 

"How long ago since you ran away from home, kid?" he asked her. 

Her eyes went wide and she tensed up. "Are you with the police or 
something?" 

He actually laughed out loud. "Oh, don't worry about that. Don't you worry 
about that." 

"How did you know that I had run away from home? I mean, what am... " 

"Because if you were just in for the day from your home in New Jersey." he 
said grinning broadly as he began to expound on his theory. 'Then you 
wouldn't be alone. They always travel in pairs when they come in from 
Jersey. And you would have brought enough money to make it through the day 
without looking around for someplace cheaper than the places on this block." 

She swallowed hard and looked down at her feet, embarrassed of how 
transparent she had been. 

"Would you like someone to talk to?" the man asked her in a kind way. 

Tears filled up her eyes as she looked at the man. He looked so handsome to 
her. She felt as if she had just lost her father. The father who had been so 
kind to her, so good to her for so many years, had turned on her, had become 
vicious and sadistic. 

But somehow this man on the streets of Manhattan was being kind to her. 

He took her along for a hamburger and asked her a series of questions. She 
told him a little about herself and very little about her father. But she 
did admit that "something crazy happened" with her father. Something that 
made her leave home. 

Of course the experienced man of the streets saw right through the girl's 
story. He knew just what she was talking about and he understood clearly 
that she had been through sex with her father. 

Whether that sex was a rape or a relationship, he couldn't tell, but he did 
know that this was a helpless girl, a girl with no place to turn. 

This was a girl he could use and sell as a hooker or... even as something 
more! If she turned out to be pliable and willing, he might be able to do 
much with her! 

His name, he said, was Nero. It was a nickname, he told the girl. 

He kept on gaining more and more of her confidence. Then he said, "You come 
up to my hotel room. Don't worry about a thing. I know the people at the 
desk of your hotel. I'll just have them send your things over to my place. 
And, don't worry, babe. I think of you like a daughter." 

The man put his hands on hers and patted her hands to emphasize his warm 
feelings. Tears welled in her eyes as she asked, "B-but, I don't understand 
why you're so... " 

"Please. Let me do this for you. Let's just say, I have a need inside me to 
help you." 

"Oh, thank you," she said, leaning over the table in the burger restaurant 
and kissing him on the cheek. 

He chuckled as he paid the check and then led the girl up a few blocks to 
where his hotel room was. 

The clerk behind the desk there was just as apathetic as the one in the 
other hotel. He never looked up at Nero walked to the elevator with the 
young girl. 

Then Nero went up to his hotel room, leading the girl. She did question the 
fact that the man who seemed to be so resourceful and so successful was 
living in such a seedy place, but she never spoke that doubt out loud. She 
merely followed him into the room which she thought would be a suite. 

As soon as she walked inside, she saw the mess that was there. She saw the 
bed that was pulled down from the wall with the sheets all undone. She 
turned back and found that the man was blocking the door with his body and 
he was looking up and down at the girl's body. 

"What is... ? Let me go. Let me leave this room," she asked, her voice 
cracking. 

"Come on, girl," he said, pushing her forward in front of him. "I don't 
wanna hurt you." 

"Yes, you do." She tried to run around the man and get to the door, but 
before she could open one of the locks on the door he grabbed her and lifted 
her off the floor. 

Because he was so wiry, he didn't show the strength that he actually had in 
his muscles. But he demonstrated that strength when he lifted the girl up 
and tossed her on the bed. 

"No!" she screamed out. "I'm going back to my father tomorrow. You can't... 
" 

"Don't pull any of this shit on me!" he hissed, slapping the girl across the 
face. "I'm doin' you a favor. I am gonna help you get all set up here in New 
York " 

"Set up!" Before she could say more, he was holding her in place and he had 
his lips pressed down against her lips. There was nothing at all romantic 
about this. He was pushing against her. 

"Come on, babe. I know you already did it... with your daddy also, didn't 
you?" 

"No! I... uh, how did you know that I... My father... uh... " 

Nero was laughing at the girl's confusion, making her feel even further 
weakened by her situation. 

Then he started to pull at her clothes and that jolted her out of her vague 
state. 

She started to fight against him. She didn't know how she could have been so 
naive as to follow a man up to his hotel room when that man tells her that 
he'll look after her and see that no harm would come to her, but she had 
done it and now she had to fight her way out of it. 

But, even as she started to fight, she knew that it was hopeless. 

Nero was a powerful man and as he ripped her dress, the girl knew that she 
couldn't go out on the street without anything covering her breasts. She 
knew that the man had power over her. He made a point of ripping the bottom 
of the dress completely apart as well. 

The girl was stripped to her bra and panties. As she squirmed against the 
man, she could already feel the hardness in the front of his pants, the 
hardness he was pressing against her body. 

Then he pressed his fingers into her panties. He pulled and tugged on some 
of the pussy hairs that fringed her delicate cunt lips. 

She cried out and tossed her head back due to the pain she felt coursing 
through her. 

Then he pulled her arms up over her head and he clamped one metal brace 
around both of the wrists. The girl hadn't even realized it was there, but 
the metal piece was attached to the headboard of the bed. It was something 
that was left there and apparently it was something that the man made a lot 
of use of. 

"If you want to fight me like a little vixen, you can waste your energy 
on-this." 

And then the girl suddenly realized that she was attached to the metal 
headboard. The man no longer had to hold her in place. She was his prisoner 
by virtue of the metal cuffs that held both of her wrists up over her head. 
For a moment, she stopped moving because she realized that the man wasn't 
fighting her any longer, but was just standing back. 

Nero was on the other side of the room and was undressing. Below his tan 
suit was an absolutely firm, swimmer's body. He had a hairy chest and since 
he was wearing nothing but a pair of black leather underpants almost 
everything was revealed. 

His stiff bone was visible through the clinging leather fabric of the 
underpants. 

"You don't understand, little one," he said, appearing very sinister as he 
dimmed the lights in the room and towered over her nearly nude figure. "I 
want you to use up some of that energy, to get rid of some of that 
hyperactivity, so that you're not quite so frisky and troublesome." 

She didn't reply. She didn't know what she was expected to say to that. 

But the man didn't care for a reply. He knew just what he was going to do 
anyway. Turning from the bed, he took a leather riding crop that was lying 
against one side of the dresser. At the end of the worn leather crop there 
was a loop of leather that dangled down. The two sides of the loop would 
slap against each other, giving an extra added twinge of pain to her body. 

He slapped the riding crop against one of the girl's nipples. 

She squealed out and arched her body up. Then the man laughed and he took a 
knife from the other side of the room. She shuddered with fear when she saw 
the man approaching with the knife, but he merely used it to cut off her bra 
and her panties. 

"Perhaps you'd like me to make more use of it?" he asked, an evil rasp in 
his voice as he rubbed the tip of the knife against one side of the girl's 
left nipple. 

She could actually feel her tit quivering against the cold metal of the 
knife's blade. 

"You like to keep what you've got there, you'll cooperate with me." 

"Please," she sighed in a voice that was no more than a whisper. "Don't." 

"I don't want to hurt you and I don't want to mess you up," he said peeling 
the black leather undershorts down his legs as he worked on stretching out 
his penis that had been bunched up inside the sweaty black leather for such 
a long time. "I want to keep you as beautiful as you are. I can assure you 
that that's the way you'll be of greatest value to me... and to yourself. Do 
we understand each other?" 

When the girl did not reply, the man picked up the riding crop once again. 
This time he slapped it sharply across the girl's other tit. She felt the 
pain coursing through her body. 

"I asked you a question and when I ask a question of a girl who is nothing 
but a slave to me, I expect an answer to that question. Now, do you 
understand?" 

"Nero, what do you mean by that, about my being a... slave?" 

The riding crop sliced across her belly and slid viciously through her belly 
button. Her body doubled over and there was a terrible strain on her bound 
arms. 

"I told you to answer me! And when you address me you will call me "sir!" 
Understand?" 

He held the riding crop up in the air. It was poised and ready. 

"Yes... sir," she said, forcing the words from her mouth as she looked up at 
him, almost hypnotized by the power of fearful pain that the riding crop 
held over her. 

"Now," the man said with a cruel smile as he worked his fingers lightly over 
the length of his stiffening cock. "I'm gonna see how well you suck cock." 

And the next thing the girl knew the man was right up at her shoulders. His 
legs were spread apart and he was basically trying to feed her his big, 
thick cock. 

"Come on. Take this meat, girl." He forced it between her lips. 

This time she couldn't use her hands to defend herself. She was fighting him 
off by moving her body from one side to the other. When he grabbed the 
riding crop, he slapped it across her thigh and she tensed up, gasping and 
crying out because of the pain. 

"Cooperate. It'll be easier for you, girl." After the man said that he found 
that the girl wasn't moving around as he pushed his cock into her mouth. His 
stiff prick pressed her tongue down even as the flared head of it rubbed 
along the roof of her mouth. 

And then the head of the cock pressed against the depths of her throat. He 
started to pull his joint in and out in her throat and he could feel the 
sensual liquid massage that he was receiving because of the way that the wet 
tongue moved against his prick. 

The girl could feel the way she was gagging each time he pushed his cock 
into her throat, but that didn't matter too much. Since she was lying on her 
back, she was helpless. Even the pressure of her throat muscles pulling 
together couldn't eject the cock from her throat. 

And so, in spite of all of her efforts, he was able to push most of his 
prick into the back of her throat, to press the flared head of his cock 
firmly against the back of her throat. 

"Yeah, you know how to suck cock," he said with a snarl as he putted his 
dick from her throat. 

She looked up at the man and choked a little bit. She didn't even want to 
beg for mercy, knowing that it would be useless. 

Then she felt the man's fingers rubbing along her pussy lips. "I wanna see 
how tight you are down here. How many guys've been layin' you, girl? How 
many years've you been fuckin'?" 

Suddenly the man's voice no longer sounded tasteful and refined. Now he 
sounded crude and vulgar to the girl. She was caught off her guard by that 
and disliked it. 

He shoved one finger hard into her cunt and snapped, "Answer, if you know 
what's good for you." 

"I... only had sex once... s-sir... and that was... yesterday with... " 

"So your daddy raped you yesterday!" he laughed, once again knowing more 
than the girl felt he had any business knowing. How was he able to guess so 
much? 

It was merely his experience with these runaway girls. He knew all of their 
stories by heart and he knew just the way to handle any of them. This one 
was a lot of fun for him to handle. 

"I'm gonna get you ready so that you can earn a good living on the avenue." 

"S-sir, I don't wanna earn a living on the... avenue. I wanna go home." 

"Bullshit!" he snapped as he got into the right position and his cock was 
right up against the lips of her pussy. He was spreading her legs apart and 
poking into her. 

"No-o-o!" she groaned as she felt the head of the penis pressing one of her 
cunt lips inward. 

He slapped her across the face with his open palm and said, "You're here to 
please me. 

Right now you're my slave-woman. No, you're not even that. You're still a 
girl. But you are my slave." 

He then pressed the head of his cock between the cunt lips and he pushed his 
prick forward. He could feel the interior lips opening up a little bit, by 
then gripping around the head of his cock. 

Turning his hips from left to right and back again he was pressing the head 
of it against the sides of the moist walls of the pussy. And then he started 
to push directly into her. 

The flared head of the cock was spreading open the walls directly in front 
of the battering ram. He slid the full boner directly into her body and then 
relaxed his weight on top of her. 

Then, with his chest crushing her breasts, he started to move only his hips. 
He was working his hips up and down and up and down again, moving his cock 
in and out of the hot, flared hole of the pussy. He slammed hard each time 
he pushed into her and then he pulled back almost all the way so that the 
back of the flared head of the glans was pulling against the tender and 
already over-excited clitoris. 

He ended up getting up on his knees and lifting her hips so that they were 
almost resting on his lap. 

When he did that the girl was pulled into a tautly uncomfortable position. 

Her arms were very high and stiff over her head and there was no room for 
her to struggle. 

Then he really started to slam his prick in and out of her. His cock was at 
a slightly different angle and so it was really hurting her when he pushed 
into her body. 

She looked up and she could see the perspiration that was glistening on his 
chest. 

He seemed to be breathing very heavily. He slammed all the way into the girl 
and said, "Wow, you're worth a fuckin' fortune and you're gonna make a 
fortune for me fuckin'." 

Ivy could feel the hot juice that was shooting repeatedly into her steaming 
hole. She shut her eyes because the man's handsome face looked like the face 
of a demon hovering over her. She had an idea, nothing more than an idea, of 
what he meant by his remark, and that terrified her. 

When the two of them had walked up Eighth Avenue, the man had tried to turn 
the girl's attention away from the girls on the street who were trying hard 
to sell their bodies. It all seemed so desperate. It all seemed to tawdry. 
But, even as she had walked past them, Ivy had the strange premonition that 
she would be among them. 

She had had a premonition that she would be brought lower than those girls 
who were selling their bodies on Eighth Avenue, and yet she had followed 
Nero where he led her. It was almost as if she had been hired into this spot 
by fate, as if fate, had clasped these handcuffs around her wrists. Fate had 
done much to her. But it was a real man with a real cock who was shooting 
load after load of hot cum into the girl's pussy. 

And what would follow? She wondered what would come next in this nether 
world she. had entered. 

CHAPTER SIX 

Johnson felt his in sides turning to stone as he walked up from the bus 
terminal into the seedy neighborhood that was Times Square. It was 
inevitable, he thought, that his daughter was somewhere within the confines 
of this area. Could he find her before it was too late? 

And when, he wondered, would it be too late? He walked around the streets 
with a searching look in his eyes. 

Of course, because he had a searching look in his eyes the girls on the 
street thought he was a potential customer. This made his journey through 
his own private inferno all the worse because he was constantly hearing the 
sweet voices of the loreleis beckoning him onto the rocks. 

"Hey, mister, lookin' for fun?" one black girl cooed in his ear as she 
purposely brushed past him. 

"No cover. No minimum. Topless girls. Come on in," a man shouted as if he 
were on a carnival midway. 

"Black beauties. Tuinols. Valium. Acid. Speed." It was a tall black stud who 
walked along the street as if he were a zombie, constantly reciting that 
tedious litany to himself. 

No one was really selling what they claimed to sell. The black stud had a 
few pills which he claimed were real and weren't. That way if a cop stopped 
him, he honestly had no drugs with him. 

What could he be arrested for? Consumer fraud? Anyone willing to buy 
something on the street which they're told is cocaine probably deserves the 
Drano he'll be snorting. 

As for the "No cover. No minimum," club, within five minutes of entering the 
place a man would be joined by a sexy girl, a girl who is hardly dressed but 
who will never put out for the man. She is too busy hustling drinks to 
hustle her body. She's into a better racket. 

For three minutes of talk she will ask the man to buy her a drink. The drink 
will always be a small bottle of champagne, which is actually colored 
carbonated water. 

Many of the girls wear diapers because they can't take out the time to go- 
to the bathroom between hustling drinks. The men usually put up a fuss when 
they get a bill for sixty or a hundred dollars, but the large and 
threatening bouncers are known to collect from everyone. 

And as for the black hooker who promised him fun - well, even that's a 
different story. Does she consider it fun? She needs another twenty bucks to 
pay for her cold room. She needs money to pay for food. And most important 
of all she needs money to keep up her drug habit. 

She's willing to shell out money for cocaine on the street and then snort 
whatever white powder she's given. She knows it'll kill her soon enough. 
Even now she's a little dizzy, a little vague about what's going on. Fun? 
She'll open her mouth and let the cock fuck the back of her throat. Whatever 
fun the man gets from her he might have gotten from a moist sponge. 

And so Johnson explored the world that was laid before him. Somewhere within 
this quagmire was his daughter. Somewhere along these winding streets was 
the beautiful innocent he had driven from his home. 

Then, as he was walking along a street that ran into Eighth Avenue, one of 
the blocks with a few theatres on it, theatres which were already closed up 
for the night, he saw that there was a girl walking in front of him. The 
girl's blonde hair was soft and straight and was hanging down her back. 

It was hard to make out the clothes she was wearing, but it seemed like a 
simple skirt and a blouse, much the same clothes that his daughter might 
have worn. 

He started to walk a little faster in following her. Could it be? Could he 
be so lucky? Was this his daughter walking ahead of him, heading back toward 
Eighth Avenue? 

She sensed the tense footsteps behind her and she turned quickly. 

It wasn't his daughter. The girl was clutching a Capezio bag to her breasts. 
She was a dancer from one of the Broadway shows and she had taken a little 
longer than the others to change back into her street clothes. When she saw 
the man who was following her, she turned quickly and started to walk very 
fast toward the avenue, stepping out into the street to hail an uptown cab 
as she did so. 

The man watched the girl getting into the cab. How ironic. He was a threat 
on the streets now. 

There had been a girl who had been frightened by his presence! 

It was getting later and as time passed he was aware that the only people 
left on the streets were either those who were there for spurious reasons, 
to sell bodies, drugs or other sundries, or those who were there as 
tourists. Johnson moved from one shadow to the next. 

And then he felt his -heart beating loudly. He saw a girl who was leaning in 
a doorway. Her blonde hair was tossed back behind her shoulders. Her breasts 
were accented by a street light as she turned. 

It was Ivy! He was sure it was Ivy! He had seen her face - almost - in the 
shadows. 

He moved toward her, trying to catch another glimpse of her and his eyes 
always on her. 

"Hey, mister, lookin' for some action?" he heard the girl ask. 

At that instant he was so certain that it was Ivy that he was about to slam 
his fist into the girl's face, snarling at his fallen daughter and not 
forgiving her for the filthy remark. 

But then his eyes met the girl's eyes. She was a dyed blonde. She wasn't as 
young as Ivy was, although she was trying her best to look that young. Her 
black eyes had too much make up on them. Her lipstick was a light pink color 
that almost glistened in the dark. 

The expression on his face was one of parental disapproval. It was the 
expression that was all prepared to greet his daughter. But as soon as he 
saw that it wasn't his daughter, his expression was a confused one, filled 
with sadness, wistful and distant. 

He kept on staring at the blonde whore, as if staring at her would make her 
turn into Ivy. 

"Okay, mister, if you ain't interested why don't you move along?" The girl's 
tone was unpleasant. 

She didn't want to have to give up her spot in the doorway. 

Finally, she moved out of the doorway, because he kept on standing there and 
staring at her. "If you try to annoy me, mister, I'll get somebody to - take 
care of you. You know what I mean?" 

"No. I don't want to annoy you." His tone was flat, completely without 
emotion. "I'm interested in... 

paying what you want and... going with you." 

"Thirty bucks and you pay for the hotel room," she said in one breath, 
meeting his eyes. 

"Sure," he said, ready to follow the girl. He still had his small carrying 
case at his side and he followed the girl around the corner to the hotel on 
West Forty-third Street where his daughter had checked in that morning. He 
paid for a room for three days. That surprised the whore, but he told her 
that he would be staying in the area anyway. 

"I should be complimented that I was the very first girl you picked out," 
she said, trying to lighten the leaden atmosphere with the man as she took 
his arm. 

He pulled his arm away from her, not wishing to touch her, not wishing for 
the contact. 

And then they entered the seedy hotel room together. "Come on, mister. 
What's eating you?" 

He pushed her onto the bed roughly. She was startled and she looked up at 
him. 

"Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing? I mean, who the fuck do you 
think you're pushin' around. Give me my thirty bucks and I'm gettin' out of 
here." 

"You're not going anywhere," the man said in a very low and calm voice as he 
peeled off his shirt. 

The girl watched as he revealed his powerful chest and she shivered because 
of the way he spoke the words. She knew that there was a time when it was 
unwise to make any fuss. 

She knew that there was danger in her profession and she wasn't ready to 
court that. She tried to push past the man, going around his side and trying 
to get to the door. 

But Johnson was in very good shape. He was on top of the girl in an instant. 
He pushed her to the floor and held here there. "You will obey me, you 
rotten little brat." 

"Hey, man, I ain't into none of this heavy shit. I'm not gonna let you do a 
number on me. 

He started to pull at her clothes without paying any attention to her 
protests. 

"You better watch out. I got somebody who protects me and takes care of me. 
If you do anything to me, and I mean anything, then he's gonna really mess 
you up good." 

"And what is the name of this generous protector who takes such good care of 
you?" 

"Nero! You ever hear the name? He's the toughest pimp on the whole street." 

"And that's who you've given yourself over to? How old are you?" 

"Seventeen!" she answered with defiance, a sneer on her face. 

"You're even a liar. Does this Mr. Nero think you're actually seventeen when 
you and I can tell, in this light, that you're certainly twenty-three or 
four." 

"What the fuck is it your business?" She was quite hostile, trying to use 
her hostility to gain her freedom. She jabbed her elbow at the man and he 
slapped her hard across the face. 

"Nobody hits me across the face like that and gets away with it, man." 

"You little slut!" the man snarled, pulling her by her hair and dragging her 
toward the bed. "How dare you use that tone of voice to me. I'll bet you 
talked that way to your own father." 

"You leave that bastard out of this!" she shouted as she felt him tossing 
her onto the bed. 

Johnson was a powerfully built man. His fury was making him even stronger. 

He landed on top of the girl as he hissed, "You should be punished for the 
evil." 

"Evil! Get the fuck out of here, man. I'm making a living! Fuck you." 

He pulled her arms behind her back and then ripped her blouse back so that 
he could tie her hands together with the blouse. She struggled to get away 
from him. 

"For not treating your father with proper respect, you deserve to be 
punished." 

He spoke that as if he were giving out a sentence of punishment to the girl. 
He ripped her panties and pulled them down her legs so that, for all intents 
and purposes, she was nude. 

The man quickly looked around. He knotted up a towel and used it to tie the 
girl's legs together and then he tossed her, as if she were a bundle, onto 
her belly on the bed. 

"Now, you'll get the sort of punishment you deserve to get, you whore." 

The man pulled his belt off and doubled it over in his hand. He was holding 
onto the buckle so that no irreparable damage would be done to the girl by 
the metal piece. But the leather loop that was created by the doubled over 
belt was threatening enough to her. 

He slapped the leather in his hand and there was a double sound as it hit 
against itself and then hit against the flesh of his palm. Then he raised 
the leather belt up. 

The girl was trying to squirm away, but there was only so far she could move 
in any direction because of her bonds. She felt the leather slapping against 
the naked flesh of her ass. 

Then her muscles tightened together and she cried out because of the pain. 
Once again the leather slapped against the leather and slapped against her 
flesh and because of the tension in her body, because of the pain that had 
not subsided, this new pain burnt through directly to the bone. She gasped 
and shivered because of the feeling. 

And again the leather belt came down across her flesh. "If your father had 
done this to you then you wouldn't have ended up being a whore like you 
are." 

She squealed out as she felt the leather belt cutting into her again. "You 
stupid fucker." 

"You want to see?" he shouted, not certain what he meant by that threat. His 
mind was spinning in circles and all of them reflected the fury that he felt 
toward the girl. 

He pulled down his pants and shorts and then his cock was already standing 
up erect. He looked down at the way the girl was squirming on her belly. She 
was looking over her shoulder at the man and when she saw the way he was 
stroking himself and looking at her ass, she tried to turn herself over. 
"Oh, no! You're not gonna put it there." 

Actually the man had been admiring her ass and hadn't had any intention of 
fucking her up there. 

But, when the girl said that, his voice grew low and mean as he replied, 
"You're not going to tell me what I'm going to do and what I'm not going to 
do." 

And then he slammed down on top of her and his stiff cock was pressed right 
up along the crack of the girl's ass. He was rubbing it up and down along 
that crack and no matter how she struggled she couldn't make him go away. 
Since her ass flesh was already bruised due to the slapping of the leather 
belt against her, the contact with his body was hurting her. 

He was rubbing himself right up against the very spots that he had just 
wounded. 

As he pulled himself up from her body and pressed the head of his cock right 
up along the crack of her ass, moving it up and down and searching for her 
ass hole, the girl started to move from side to side, trying to keep the man 
from entering her. 

He slapped her hard on one of the cheeks of her ass and she cried out loud. 

"Stay still. Don't you make trouble for me." Then he pressed the head of his 
cock against the tight anal opening and he started to push forward. He 
grabbed onto both of the cheeks of her ass and pulled each one outward with 
the flat of his palms. 

He was pulling her open and permitting the head of his cock to spread apart 
the moist opening that was already there. He could feel the clinging flesh 
of the ass hole pulling on the head of his cock, not permitting the head of 
his cock to actually enter the hot hole. 

"You gotta use something, mister. Come on. You'll rip me apart. At least use 
spit." 

This was spoken in a pleading tone. The man acknowledged that on the girl's 
part. She sounded to him like a respectful daughter as she begged for mercy 
in the ass fucking. 

And so he spit on his palm and rubbed the wetness up around the head of his 
cock. As he pushed forward into the hot and moist hole, he whispered in the 
girl's ear, "You see that? 

When you speak to me like a respectful daughter, I'll be nice to you." 

"I don't understand. What do you want, mister? Please don't hurt... " 

"Shut up!" he snapped, accenting his command by slapping the girl on her 
tender ass. 

Then she was silent. This gave her a chance to concentrate on what was 
happening and she really didn't care to. Her hands were bound and she could 
feel her fingers growing cold because of it. She could feel the slightly 
moist flesh of the anal opening being pulled into her body by the pressure 
of the thick head of the cock that was entering her. 

The man pulled her hips up in the air a little bit and then he felt the hole 
spreading open beneath him. He had never fucked anyone up the ass before 
that. He had just never had a chance to try it, never had reason to do it. 
Now he created his own reason. 

"Slut," he hissed in her ear. "I wouldn't enter that filthy pussy where a 
thousand other men have shot their loads." He sensed that the girl had 
started to cry. 

He slapped her on the ass, but she still cried. The head of his cock was 
inside her ass hole and he could feel the quivering of her body as she 
sobbed and heaved herself. 

The man started to work his dick in one direction and then in the other. He 
pushed her open to the right and then to the left. Then he started to push 
directly into her body. 

He felt himself plunging forward, but then he felt his cock sticking to the 
flesh surrounding the hole and he knew that he had started on the way to 
pulling the girl inside out. 

Pulling back a little bit, he released that tension and managed to release 
the grip that the anal opening had on his cock. Then he was able to push 
forward again and the broad head of his cock slammed against the depths of 
her insides. He was all the way inside her. 

His balls were resting against the smooth flesh on her soft, white thighs, 
and his scratchy, kinky pubic hair was pressing against the rounded cheeks 
of the girl's ass. 

He started to pull his cock out a little bit and then he plunged forward 
again. Actually he could feel the hot flesh of the anal opening clinging to 
his prick so each time he pulled out and pushed forward again he was 
massaging the inside of her ass hole, but he was not having the base of his 
prick massaged in return. He could feel the sphincter clinging around his 
cock and he realized that it was pulling out and pushing back in along with 
the movement of his cock. 

But, as he continued to fuck harder and with longer strokes, there was more 
lubrication that was being created inside the anal opening. He could feel 
the smoothness of his strokes due to the fact that the anal opening relaxed 
and was no longer gripping his dick as much. 

He pushed in and pulled back out of her hot hole and soon he was stroking 
with long fucking motions, fucking her ass just the way he would have fucked 
her pussy. 

Each time he pulled out of her, he felt the moist flesh on the bottom of the 
anal tunnel rubbing along the most sensitive flesh along the underside of 
his cock. Then he slammed into her and he could feel the flesh pressing back 
against his hard cock. 

She also felt the best tingling sensation when he was pulling out of her. 
The rubbing of the cock head against the sensitive flesh on the bottom of 
her anal opening was sending a thrill of delight through her body. 

And when the cock slammed all the way in she felt her breath being taken 
away by the slamming pressure of the broad head of the cock. She also felt 
the man's balls and his curly pubic patch slapping right up against the very 
flesh that had been bruised and abused. 

She gasped, inhaling sharply through her clenched teeth. 

This kept happening very quickly because of the way he was slamming into 
her. When he would pull out there would be such an erotic thrill, 
particularly when the flared head of his cock was pulling back against the 
inside of her sphincter, that she would actually feel a little bit more 
pussy juice oozing and drooling into the moist pussy flesh. 

But when he would push into her it was as if she were being given electric 
shocks. 

The head of the cock was like a fist that was punching her insides. The 
man's body was slamming down repeatedly against the flesh on her ass cheeks 
which had so recently been injured. 

"This is the way to treat a whore." That phrase became a litany for the man 
as he kept on repeating it in tempo to the fucking motions that he was 
performing in her hole. "This is the way to treat a whore. This is the way 
to treat a whore." 

The words became faster as his movements became faster. Her moans became 
more frequent as she kept on reacting to more and more of the anguishing 
jolts that were hurting her. 

And then he slammed all the way into her body and she could feel the start 
of his orgasm. She felt the way he was immediately pulsating inside her anal 
opening. She felt the way his cock was throbbing inside her body. The base 
of his cock was pressing her anal opening a little wider, spreading her out 
a little bit more. He was shooting his cream into her body. 

There was such an intense heat in her ass hole that she could hardly bear 
it. 

But she didn't have to bear it for long. The man slid his prick out of her 
before he had even finished shooting his hot load of cum in her bottom hole. 

He was shaking all over. "Go on. Get out of here, you whore." 

"How am I supposed to get out when you have me tied up?" She looked up at 
him snidery. 

The man moved toward her as if he were going to slap her and she cowered 
back in her bonds, frightened of him. He felt a jolt of lust because of the 
fear that the girl expressed. 

And then he realized that his prick was hard again. Or, perhaps it had never 
lost its erection. 

He brought the head of his cock right up to the girl's lips and she turned 
away. 

"Get that the fuck away from me. You had it in my ass. I ain't gonna suck 
it." 

But he was pulling on her hair. "You're nothing but a whore and you have 
nothing to say about what you do." 

She screeched as she felt the man tugging her hair out of her head and then 
he managed to get the head of his filthy cock between her lips. "Lick it off 
all clean." 

The girl started to bring her teeth down against the sensitive flesh of the 
cock and the man pulled back in his own defense. But he wasn't on the 
defensive for very long. He started to slap her insanely on the ass. The 
girl couldn't even squirm to protect herself. 

There was no chance for her to struggle now. She was writhing from side to 
side and she felt completely helpless. He was raining down blows on her 
already battered ass. 

"No-o-o-o!" she cried out, a lamenting howl. "Please. I beg you. No." 

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her whole body was shaking. 

The man pressed his cock against her lips. "Clean it all off, if you know 
what's good for you." 

"How about a little... p-p-pity, man? H-how about a... " She gasped and 
choked. 

"Whores don't cry. I wouldn't believe a whore's tears so you're wasting 
them." 

Tears were still coming from her eyes, but she tried to steady her breathing 
as she looked up at the man and said, "I w-won't waste my tears for a... 
b-bastard like you." There was a long pause. His filthy cock was near her 
mouth, but not right at it. "You're no better than my father," she hissed. 

When the man heard that he pushed his prick right into her mouth. He could 
feel her lips and her tongue moving alone the length of the cock. It was 
pointless to wonder' if those parts of her mouth were moving of their own 
accord or simply in reaction to the invasion of the cock. 

But the man was getting pleasure because of the contact. It didn't take long 
before his balls were rubbing against her chin and he was grinding the head 
of his cock against the back of the girl's throat. At the same time that he 
was doing that, of course, he was wiping off the length of his cock on the 
girl's unwilling tongue. 

She couldn't help herself. Her tongue was right there. She was his prisoner. 

The girl didn't even have the strength to pull on her bonds any longer. She 
just wanted to make the man cum again so that she could get out of there. At 
least, she hoped she would get out of there alive. Now she could feel the 
cock sliding in and out of her throat. . - She could feel the flared cock 
head rubbing against the roof of her mouth and she could taste the 
disgusting flavor of the anal sex they had just been through. 

Then she could feel the cock moving faster against her tongue and the roof 
of her mouth. She could feel the jabs against the back of her throat and 
knew he was coming. 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

When he was through, he let her dress. She saw that he wasn't an ogre then. 
Actually he was acting like a man who regretted what he had done to the 
girl. 

He remained on the bed, not looking at her. None of her clothes were badly 
damaged. 

When the girl was fully dressed she stood over the bed as if she were 
waiting for something. The man looked up at her then, realized what she was 
waiting for, and went to his wallet for the thirty dollars. She looked at 
the money and laughed a little, "What you got usually goes for a hell of a 
lot more." 

He looked into his wallet and took out another twenty dollar bill and then 
handed it to her. 

"It usually goes for more than that also," she said, this time not laughing 
or smiling. 

"That's all," he said in a flat voice as he looked away from her and put his 
wallet away. 

The girl walked silently to the door of the room but then she stood there 
for a moment, shaking with her own fury. She turned back from the door and 
screamed, "Who the fuck do you think you are, mister?" 

Johnson looked up at her with wide eyes. He was shocked by the sudden 
explosion. 

She put her hands on her hips and shouted, "Who do you think you're talking 
to?" 

His mouth fell open. He knew that there was no reply expected of him. 

"Do you think I'm a lump of dirt or something? Is that what you think you 
did? You think you just porked it into some piece of clay that has no 
feelings? I happen to be a human being. Maybe I'm not a human being who's 
living the way you're living, and maybe I don't like the same sort of 
lifestyle as you do, you know what I mean? But, I happen to be a person. 

"And there ain't nothin' in the world, not your education or your money or 
nothin' that gives you the right to act like you're better than me. Okay, 
you wanna have sex mean with a hooker, you tell her what you want and she'll 
quote you a price. 

"Look, mister, -this is a job I do, and I pride myself that I do it good. 
What do you do?" 

He was silent. Up until then the girl had been on a tirade and now she asked 
him a question. 

"Come on," she snarled. "I ain't gonna tell on you to the authorities or 
nothin'." 

"Well, I'm a... a teacher," he said, blushing a little bit. 

She nodded her head and said, "And are you a good teacher, buddy? Huh?" 

Now it was his turn to nod his head. He nodded his head again when she 
asked, "And you know you're a good teacher because the kids learn? That's 
your job?" . 

When he agreed with everything to that point, she continued, "Well, I'm a 
good hooker. The reason I'm a good hooker is that I get my customer 
satisfied. You get paid for teaching. It's what you do best. I get paid for 
fucking by people who need to get their rocks off. That's okay. That's what 
I do best." Then she suddenly started to weep. 

"Miss... uh... " the man began as he stood up from the bed. 

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve as she stepped back and said, "Don't you 
take a step closer to me. 

So help me, if you take one step closer to me I'll kill you." 

"Forgive me, I didn't realize that... " he started and then he blushed. 

"Fuck that! You didn't realize? Bullshit! You knew everything you were doing 
and you knew everything you wanted to do... " She was lost in tears again. 

This time the man remained silent. When the girl started to speak again she 
whimpered, "Do you think I asked to live this kind of life? Don't you think 
I'd rather be in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, going to school, 
having boyfriends, starting my life, instead of peddling my ass till all 
hours of the night in Times Square?" 

It was something that Johnson had never thought of, but the suggestion did 
jolt him a bit. 

"How did it happen? I mean... uh... how did you... uh... " 

"How did a nice girl like me end up in a place like this?" She laughed 
sardonically. 

He nodded his head and blushed, suddenly feeling like some awkward 
anthropologist. "Why don't you sit down for a minute. 'You seem upset. I 
promise not to hurt you." 

She looked at him with suspicion and then she moved sideways to a chair that 
had a straight back and was leaning against a wall. She kept watching the 
man. 

"You remember that my time is worth money to me so you can't keep me here." 

"I wouldn't keep you against... your will... " he said, hesitantly. 

"Right. Just the way you didn't keep me tied down on the bed against my 
will?" He blushed briefly and then said, "Please. How did you end up here?" 

She paused a moment and then said, "It was because of that that I had to get 
real nasty when you said that if my father had given me any spankings like 
that when I was young, I wouldn't have ended up peddling my ass here in 
Times Square." 

Sighing softly, the girl continued, "You were wrong about my age. Actually 
I'm only eighteen but I say that I'm seventeen because guys get off on doing 
something illegal, being with a girl who could be jailbait. The reason I 
look older is because of the drugs. 

"And I can tell you, man, I can really tell you that if it hadn't been for 
my father I wouldn't be here now. My father made me his victim. He used me. 
He made my life unbearable." 

"When did all this start?" the man asked, great interest in his voice. 

She looked at him sharply. "I don't know why I'm tellin' you all this. I 
don't tell people about none of this stuff. It's real personal. It ain't 
nobody's business." 

"Please," he said, the pleading evident in just one word. "I'm here in town 
because of my daughter. 

My daughter left and I... I'm looking for her. I may have caused... Well, I 
feel to blame for what happens to her. It might be important for me to hear 
your story." 

Shaking her head, the beautiful blonde girl said, "Poor kid. If this is 
where she came to then I feel sorry for her. I feel really sorry for her." 

Then she was ready to tell her story. "By the way," she said. "My name is 
Olga. I thought you might want to know. Sometimes I use a Swedish accent on 
customers. They love that. I know how to do it because my mother had such a 
thick accent and... " 

"I don't want to hear about what you do with customers." He made it clear 
that he was upset by the subject of Olga's prostitution. The girl realized 
that this man was dreading and hating the notion of the prostitution and 
then she fully understand his actions in vicious lovemaking. 

"Well, anyway, I am from Wisconsin. It's a small town called Stormhead 
that's all the way to the west of the slate. My mother and father have a 
farm there and I was just your typical teenager. I was going to school. 
Except I wasn't fully typical. 

"You see. I never had a chance to wear nice things to school. It wasn't that 
daddy couldn't afford nicer clothes for me. He had the money and he spent it 
on other things. But, he didn't approve of having me dressed up. I had to 
wear the most conservative things in school, clothes that kids hadn't worn 
since the nineteen-fifties. 

"I learned to be good with a needle and thread so that I could make changes 
in things. Father would give me three blouses and expect me to last through 
a school year with them. On top of that they would all have rounded, ruffled 
collars. It would be up to me to cut off the collars and make something nice 
out of them. But there was nothing I could do about the awful heavy dark 
shoes that he made me wear. They were like a boy's shoe. 

"Each day after dinner I would have to recite for father. Does this sound 
like a story out of the past? 

Does this sound like something that a child had done in the 
eighteen-fifties? 

"I don't know. Maybe it was easier for kids in the nineteenth century who 
had to put up with strict fathers like mine because they knew that everyone 
else had to go through the same thing with their father. 

"But it was always so unpleasant knowing that I had to face him, had to face 
my punishment." 

"Punishment?" Johnson asked as he pulled his clothes on and sat on the bed. 

Nodding, the girl said, "There was almost always punishment, unless father 
was just too tired or he just wasn't in the mood. He would always find 
something to punish also. 

"You see, I had to report to his room upstairs while mother was still 
downstairs cleaning up. No matter what sounds mother heard she was to ignore 
them. Father was in charge of the household discipline. To put that a little 
simpler, my mother was a meek woman and I am willing to guess that my father 
was beating her regularly as well. 

"Anyway, I would go up to his room and he would sit in his large chair and I 
would stand in front of him, strictly at attention. He would ask me 
questions about my day. 

"He really did keep track of what I had to do in school and he always wanted 
to know everything. 

How many pages had I read? What were the pages about? What were the 
questions on my homework? Had I finished all the answers before dinner? What 
was my grade on the previous homework? 

"And so I would have to answer all of that. Actually, I think that was 
rather loving of him. It indicated to mc that he really did care about what 
I was doing in school. 

"But he would also ask me about all my free time. How long did it take me to 
get home from school? Who had I sat with at lunch? Heaven forbid I should 
ever mention a boy's name! He was always seeing sluts and tramps the way 
other people see ghosts. 

"I was on ray way to becoming the school tramp! That was his opinion. 
Actually I had never done anything in school. I had never dared. My father's 
punishments were always so severe I couldn't imagine how bad they would be 
if I really gave him something to punish me for?" 

Then the girl paused and really looked into the eyes of the confused father 
who sat before her, saying, "Don't you see what he did to me? He gave me no 
choice. If I stayed there I didn't have an inch of leeway. I couldn't have a 
fight with him. I couldn't have any freedom. It was either stay there and 
bear with it or live. Since I was only sixteen when I ran away about 
eighteen months ago, how could I have done anything else but be a hooker." 

As soon as she saw that the man was about to say something, she interrupted. 
"That isn't the end of my story. I didn't get to what made me leave. I 
suppose that if daddy had kept on spanking me every day after dinner that 
would have been one thing. But he wasn't satisfied to stop there. Until I 
was fifteen it had gone on the same way though. 

"Once he would find something that I had done wrong, something like not 
getting a high enough score on a test or like talking to people in school 
that he didn't approve of, people whose parents didn't go to church enough, 
he would tell me to get into the position. 

'That always meant the same thing to me. I was supposed to take off my 
blouse and my skirt. I always wore an undershirt over my bra and I always 
wore the very plainest panties. I would leave on my socks and shoes and that 
was it for me. 

"Then my father would spread his legs and would slap his left thigh firmly. 
That was my sign that he was ready. I would bend over his left thigh and he 
would press his legs together so that his right leg was holding me in place. 
He would press his left hand against my back. 

"And then he would start to spank me, holding me down on my back and my 
thighs so that I couldn't squirm around. He had it down to an exact science. 
He would slap the cheeks of my ass so that I would feel the soft fabric of 
my white panties sticking to my flesh. 

"He would continually slap and smack the cheeks of my ass with his wide-open 
palm. 

"I would be black and blue when I would look at my beautiful butt in the 
mirror. I was at an age where I was just beginning to get a rounded ass. I 
was also at the age where I was beginning to find out sexual facts, in spite 
of all my father would do to keep me from learning anything. 

"I managed to get in a very large lie. I became friendly with a girl named 
Pauline who was considered a bad influence by my father. It seemed that 
Pauline's mother was the beautician in town and she was divorced and it was 
said that she got magazines that had pictures of naked men in them. Can you 
imagine how backwards the people are out there? Can you just see how they'd 
react if they were brought to Times Square and saw the magazines here? 

"And as it turned out, Pauline was a wonderful influence on me. She showed 
me her mother's magazines and I saw male bodies for the first time. For the 
first time I actually had a notion of what happened between a man and a 
woman. One of the things I learned from Pauline was that male cocks grew 
hard when they were excited." She laughed a little. 

"Isn't that funny? You look at me and you see a hooker in Times Square. You 
don't stop to think that I was once a protected virgin who really didn't 
even know what a cock looked like. 

"I started to think more about sex since I knew more about it. And I was 
aware of many things. I was aware of the way my father had looked at me each 
time I undressed. 

"I was also aware of the stiffness that was down the left leg of his pants. 

"All through the years I had always figured that he had something in his 
left pocket although when I had looked at him at other times I didn't see 
anything sticking out there. But when I would lie across his leg I would 
always feel something stiff. I figured that my father kept something in that 
pocket and I guess he sometimes did show the lump when he was walking around 
the house. Now that I look back on it I wonder if he caught me looking at 
that lump I didn't understand. 

"Anyway, the point is that I learned what it was that was in his pocket. I 
realized that my father was getting an erection and then getting off by 
having my body pressing down right against it while he was spanking my ass 
and making me tense up, rubbing my thighs against his erect penis. 

"It was kind of disturbing to realize, after all those years, that I had 
been suffering from all that pain, from all those spankings, when in fact he 
had only been doing it to get his rocks off. He had only been doing it 
because of the pleasure he wanted to get "But, like I said, my father gave 
me very few options. I could either take it or run away. I don't suppose he 
ever though I would run away. If he thought I would I don't suppose he would 
have pushed me that far. But he pushed me further than I could go. 

"I finally felt that I had to stand up to him. I was still fifteen and I had 
been self-conscious about the undressing and about the physical contact that 
the spanking provided for more than a year at that time. But, I hadn't had 
the guts to say anything. 

"Finally I decided that the next time he had a reason to spank me, I would 
have to refuse. I was becoming a young woman. I wasn't a girl then anymore. 

"But, I wasn't really anxious to have that run-in with him. And yet, I know 
that my father was just waiting for a chance for me. I could tell he was in 
that kind of mood. I really thought that I shouldn't start anything that 
night, but then I felt that I needed to use my courage. I knew that if I 
didn't do it then, I would never do it. 

"And so, I had a perfect day. I reported everything in a very straight and 
respectful manner. But, he wanted to punish me. He told me that my posture 
was terrible and he told me to get into the position. 

"That's when I said, 'Papa, No.' He looked up at me, shocked that I had the 
nerve to say that. I started to try to tell him that I felt I was getting 
too old for it and that I didn't feel it was proper for me to expose myself 
in my panties right in front of him. 

"Without saying a word he jumped up from his chair and smacked me repeatedly 
across the face so that I fell backwards. I was weeping and trying to fight 
off his smacks. 

"And he was screaming, 'Slut! You do not know how to honor thy father and 
thy mother!' He was going wild. He dragged me on the floor and started to 
slam his hand against my ass. 

"I was huddled up, trying to protect myself. I was just holding onto my 
head, not wanting to be hit in the face and I could feel him pulling my 
skirt all the way up. Then he pulled my panties down. I panicked when that 
happened, but I didn't know what to do. 

"Like I said, I was trying to protect myself. I was still a virgin at that 
time and was only thinking about not getting beaten up by my father. I felt 
him grabbing onto me from behind. It was, like, I was lying on my left side 
and he was lying behind me, also on his left side. He was pressing his 
clothed body against my exposed body. 

"At least I remember feeling the hard quality of his clean coveralls against 
the exposed cheeks of my ass. Then I knew that he was fussing with something 
back there. I wanted to shut it all out. I wanted to be an ostrich and hide 
my head, making believe that would make all the unpleasantness go away from 
me. But, of course that only encouraged it. 

"The things that were happening were just things that... I was too young to 
deal with. 

"I could feel my father's hand forcing its way between my tightly clenched 
thighs. He was rubbing the tips of his fingers against the lips of my pussy 
and trying to press inside my vagina. I struggled and tried not to let him 
get in there. But, soon I felt the fingers against my virgin cunt lips. That 
was a real shock to me. 

"I mean, I want you to understand where this was coming from. This was the 
man who was constantly telling me that he would kill me and the boy if I 
ever let a boy so much as to touch my pussy. And now he was the one who was 
getting ready to take my cherry. 

"He rubbed his cock head up and down along the smooth flesh of my thighs and 
then he managed to push the tip of it between my thighs. I could feel the 
tip of it against the already moistened lips of my cunt. Then he managed to 
push forward. 

"I thought I was holding my thighs together as hard as I could. I thought I 
wasn't letting him get into my body, but he managed to push forward. It was 
as if the stiffness of his cock was just too strong for me. He managed to 
get inside the lips and then... " 

The girl started to weep bitterly. The man jumped to her side and put an arm 
around her. But the girl was aware of where she was and of who the man was. 
She pulled away from him. 

He was on his knees in front of her as he said, "I'm sorry." 

"What are you sorry for?" she asked, wiping her eyes with her sleeves again. 

"I suppose that I'm just sorry that I wasn't a better father to my girl." 

Olga smiled wistfully and then sighed softly as she sat back in the chair. 

"Would you like to rest for a little while?" he asked, still sitting on the 
floor in front of her. 

She looked into his eyes and asked, "Do you wanna hear my story?" 

He nodded his head. He wanted very much to hear the rest of her story. 

Sighing once again, the girl said, "Well, I'm probably doing myself some 
good in telling it. 

I guess it doesn't matter that I'm telling you the story. I'll never see you 
again." 

"Please. Your story has a lot of meaning to me... " he said in a quiet 
voice. 

"For an instant, an instant that seemed to stretch before me like an 
eternity, I felt the head of my father's dick pressing hard against the wall 
of flesh that protected my virginity. And then I felt the pulling. Then I 
felt the ripping. Finally there was the burning. 

"Oh, God, the pain of it. The shame of it. As soon as I knew that he was 
inside me I thought that I should just kill myself. I wonder what he thought 
about through it. 

"It hardly took a minute before he shot his load. He pulled right out of me. 
I think lie pulled out of me before he even finished shooting. He smacked me 
on my bare ass just as if he had been right in the middle of giving me a 
bare-bottom spanking. 

"And then he started to pretend that was all that he had done to me. For a 
little while I wondered if it had all happened in my imagination. But, no. I 
knew that I hadn't dreamed of the things that had happened. I knew that I 
hadn't dreamed the feeling that was inside my pussy, the hot liquids that 
were oozing out of my pussy slit at that instant. 

"It had all happened. It had all been real. My father had fucked me and 
taken my cherry. 

"But it was treated in the same way as his erections. He never admitted to 
it. It was always something that hadn't happened. It was something that 
would happen without a word acknowledging it. My mother would never come 
into the room. We both knew that from experience. 

"My father kept on including that as part of his... regular punishment." 

"Oh, God," Johnson said, burying his face in his hands and nodding his head. 

"Finally it got more than I could stand. I had to leave town." 

"But, in your whole town, wasn't there anyone you could turn to for help?" 

"I started to tell my mother about it. Rather, I tried to tell my mother 
about it. She said that she knew my father had a hot temper but that he was 
the master of the house. I told her that she didn't know about all that he 
did to me and she made it clear that she didn't want to know. She wouldn't 
interfere with anything anyway and then she told me that I was an ungrateful 
viper after my father had put a roof over my head and fed and clothed me all 
those years." 

The girl started to smile and laugh as she said, "Funny. That's the first 
time I thought about prostitution. I said to myself that if my mother felt I 
had to go along with any wish of my father's, even sexual ones, in return 
for the money he had spent to raise me, then she wanted me to be a 
prostitute. It was a bitter thought, but it seemed truer to me all the time. 

"I also went to the priest of the town and I started to tell him what my 
father was doing to me. But he interrupted to give me a lecture about what a 
good parishioner my father was and how he never wanted to hear ill of a 
father from a child. 

"What else could I do? Go to the police? Would they have listened to me? 

"My father is a bastard, a rotten pig who deserves to die for what he did to 
me. He took advantage of the fact that he was a father. He took advantage of 
that role. And he managed to get my life fucked up enough so that I ended up 
here in New York. 

"Do you think I was a whore back in town? The only man who had ever fucked 
me in my life when I got off the bus in New York City was my own father!" 

Now it was the man who had been listening to the whole story who started to 
cry. 

"Hey, mister, what's the matter with you?" the girl asked as she put her 
arms around him. 

"It's my daughter... My Ivy... I'll never see her again and it's all my 
fault." 

Olga pressed the older man's head against her youthful breasts and she 
heaved a sigh. She couldn't say anything to him because there was nothing 
positive she could think of. As far as she was concerned the man really was 
completely to blame for his daughter ending up in Times Square. 


THE END
