Vicky Dominates Daddy
Copyright© 2026 by CreepyUnclePete - by AuthorWench
Chapter 2
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Married woman considers divorce, and controls her father. - - - Written and edited with some AI assistance.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Incest Father Daughter FemaleDom Analingus Massage Oral Sex Petting Smoking
- My heart is a trapped bird fluttering against my ribs, and my palms are slick with nervous sweat. I can’t stop shaking, not because I’m cold, but because the air in the room has turned into something thick and electric, a current that is jolting straight through my spine. I look up at my daughter Victoria, and God she’s magnificent! The anger is still radiating off her, but it’s morphed into something hungry that demands total surrender. The thought of it makes my stomach flip in a way that is both terrifying and intoxicating. I’m a middle-aged man. I’m a father, a guy who should be the pillar of strength, but right now I feel small and fragile. I desperately need her to use me, in any way she desires.
I love her. I love her with a fierce, protective intensity, but as I look at her nude body, the paternal instinct is warring with a raw, starving lust that I’ve tried to bury for years. She looks like a goddess of vengeance and pleasure, the smoke from her menthol cigarette curling around her head like a halo of grey lace. Every time she speaks, her voice dropping into that commanding, low register, a jolt of pure heat shoots straight to my groin. I want to please her. I want to be the tool she uses to erase the memory of her awful husband Gary. I want to be the dirt beneath her feet if it means she’ll look at me with that hungry, dominant gaze. My breath is coming in shallow, ragged gasps, and I can feel myself hardening, pulsing with a need that is almost painful.
“Kneel,” she commands. The word is a whip crack that snaps my resolve.
I don’t hesitate. I sink to the floor, my knees hitting the carpet with a dull thud, my head bowed in an instinctive gesture of submission. I’m naked, stripped of my dignity and my role as the ‘stable’ one. I have never felt more alive. I can smell the pungent mix of menthol smoke and her natural musk-heavy scent, and it’s driving me insane with lust! I look up and she’s standing over me, her legs slightly apart, the sheer power of her presence filling my vision. She looks down at me, her eyes hooded, a small cruel smile playing on her lips as she takes another long drag of her cigarette.
She whispers, “Eat me, Dad.” The taboo of it, the sheer audacity of the request, sends a surge of adrenaline through my veins.
I move forward, my movements tentative yet driven by a starving desperation. As I reach her, the scent of her, sweet, salty, and intensely female, hits me like a physical blow. I lean in, my lips brushing against the soft, golden skin of her inner thigh, and I hear her let out a sharp, jagged breath. I move upward, my tongue tentatively tasting the edges of her labia, and she lets out a low, guttural moan that vibrates through my very soul. Her womanhood smells like her mother’s did, tastes like the cleft that birthed her, but even better.
I start slowly, my tongue tracing the outer edges of her vulva, licking from the base of her perineum up toward the clitoris. She is already wet, a glistening, honey-like nectar that tastes of heat and longing. I lap at her, my tongue broad and flat, savoring the salty tang of her arousal. I can feel her thighs trembling, her muscles tightening as she grips the edge of the sofa, her toes curling into the carpet.
“Yes ... right there,” she gasps, her voice shaking. “God, you’re good! And it’s so much better when I’m the one deciding. Excellent!”
The praise fuels me. I become more aggressive in my submission, my tongue darting in and out of the narrow slit of her vagina. I suck at the fleshy folds of her labia, pulling them into my mouth and swirling my tongue around the sensitive edges. I can feel the heat radiating from her, a furnace of desire that threatens to consume me. I use my lips to gently tug at her clitoris, sucking it with a rhythmic, pulsing pressure that makes her back arch and her head snap back.
“Oh God, Daddy!” she cries out, her voice a raw, unfiltered scream of pleasure. “Don’t stop! Just ... fuck, don’t ever stop!”
I dive deeper, my tongue pushing past the entrance of her vagina, exploring the tight, pulsing walls of her canal. I swirl my tongue in a circular motion, mimicking the friction of a cock, while my lips continue to massage and suck her clitoris. The combination of the deep, internal pressure and the sharp, external stimulation sends her into a frenzy. She begins to shake, her breath coming in short, sharp pants, and she reaches down to grip my hair, pulling me closer, forcing my face deeper into her heat.
I am lost in her. The world has shrunk to the size of her thighs, the scent of her skin, and the terrifying, electric thrill of being completely dominated by my own child. My heart isn’t just hammering; it’s a frantic animal trying to break through my ribs, and every breath I take is thick with the smell of her arousal and the sharp, acrid tang of the menthol cigarette she’s dangling just inches from my face. I feel small. I feel pathetic. I feel absolutely, deliciously powerless. I’ve spent decades being the “man of the house,” the provider, the stable pillar, but as I kneel here, stripped of everything, I realize I’ve never wanted anything more than to be her footstool, her toy, her mindless servant.
God, she is magnificent! The way she looks down at me with that mixture of pity and predatory hunger makes my cock pulse with a rhythmic, aching intensity. I am terrified of doing something wrong, of not being “enough” for this version of her, but the anxiety only fuels the fire in my groin. I want to disappear into her. I want to lick every inch of her until she forgets that Gary ever existed. Every command she barks is like a spark to a powder keg in my chest. I’m not just a father right now; I’m a man starving for the validation of a woman who holds my entire world in her hands.
I press my face deeper into her, my tongue searching, desperate. I can feel her trembling, and the knowledge that I am the one causing this, that my tongue is the instrument of her release, makes me feel a strange, soaring sense of purpose. I don’t care about the taboo; I only care about the wetness, the heat, and the way she sighs my name like a curse.
“Don’t stop, Daddy. Just ... More, right there!”
I obey. I gladly maintain the heat, my tongue flattening out to lap at the glistening folds of her labia. I drink her in, savoring the salty, metallic tang of her excitement. I use my tongue to pry open the delicate petals of her vulva, exploring the slippery, velvet depths of her entrance. I swirl my tongue in slow, deliberate circles around her clitoris, feeling it throb against my taste buds. I suck the small, sensitive nub into my mouth, applying a gentle, pulsing vacuum that makes her hips jerk upward.
“Oh ... fuck,” Victoria moans, her voice dropping an octave. “You’re actually ... you’re better at this than he ever was! You’re amazing!”
The compliments hit me harder than a physical blow. I redouble my efforts, my tongue becoming a precision tool. I flick rapidly against the head of her clitoris, mimicking the heartbeat of a panicked bird. I use my lips to tug at the surrounding skin, creating a friction that sends her into a series of short, sharp gasps. I can feel her internal muscles contracting, squeezing the air out of the room.
I move lower, my tongue tracing the line of her perineum, licking the sensitive skin between her vagina and her anus, knowing how the contrast of textures drives her wild. Then, I snap back up, burying my face in her softness, sucking her entire clitoral hood into my mouth and swirling my tongue around the glans with a raw, hungry intensity.
“Yes! Yes, Daddy! Right there!” she screams, her fingers digging into my scalp, pulling my head tighter against her. “Suck it! Suck it harder!”
I obey. I suck her with everything I have, my cheeks hollowing, my breath hitching. I can feel the moment she tips over the edge. Her thighs clamp shut around my face, trapping me in a world of scent and heat. She begins to shudder, a violent, rhythmic oscillation that ripples through her entire body. Her screams are long and loud, her pleasure echoing in the vibration of her pelvic floor.
She comes in waves, a crashing tide of release that leaves her breathless and shaking. As the tremors slowly subside, she doesn’t let go of my hair. She keeps me pinned there, her scent filling my lungs, her body still humming with the afterglow.
“Good boy,” she whispers, her voice a low, satisfied purr. She turns around and commands, “Keep licking me. Everywhere.”
My heart is a frantic animal in my chest, and my hands are shaking so violently I can barely keep my balance. I feel small, pathetic, and absolutely electrified. The taboo of this, the sheer, forbidden wrongness of it, is a drug that has my head spinning. I am a fifty-year-old man, a father, but in this moment, I am nothing more than her instrument. I am a servant to her skin. I lean forward, my breath hitching, as I press my lips to the soft, pale curve of her backside. The scent of her mostly-clean butt is overwhelming, a heady, musky cocktail of expensive perfume, bits of waste, and the raw smell of her intense arousal. It’s an intoxicating fragrance that makes my cock throb, despite the filth.
I migrate lower, my lips grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, moving with a desperate, starving caution. Then, I reach it. Her anus is a tight, puckered jewel of heat. I don’t hesitate; I press my tongue directly against the center of her hole. The flavor is intense, salty, rankly pungent, and deeply intimate. It tastes of her most private places, a raw and earthy flavor that sends a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust straight to my brain. I lick upward, a long, slow stroke from the base of her perineum right up to the rim, savoring the gritty, salty texture of her skin.
“Yes ... so wrong! So dirty! I love it! I love you so much!” Victoria moans, her voice trembling. “Yeaaaah! Keep eating my ass! Lick all the way inside.”
I obey instantly. I open my mouth wide, pressing my face flush against her cheeks, and push the tip of my tongue past the tight ring of her sphincter. The sensation is electric. The inside of her is searingly hot, a tight, velvet tunnel that clings to my tongue. I push deeper, feeling the muscle pulse and contract around me. I swirl my tongue inside her, exploring every millimeter of that hidden, forbidden warmth. It feels slippery, thick, and incredibly tight. I can taste the concentrated essence of her, a deep, musky saltiness that fills my mouth. I suck the rim of her hole, creating a vacuum that pulls her skin into my mouth, and then I thrust my tongue back in, again and again, licking the internal walls of her anus with a raw, hungry desperation. She gasps, her body jerking forward, and the feeling of her reacting to my tongue, of her pleasure being commanded by my submission, makes me feel like I’m floating in a sea of heat.
“Now the front, too!” she barks, her voice a jagged edge of desire. “Rub it, Dad! Use your fingers! I want to feel you everywhere!”
My hands are shaking, my fingers clumsy with a level of anxiety that borders on panic, but I do it. I reach around her, my hand trembling as I find the glistening, swollen center of her. My middle finger slides effortlessly into the honey-thick wetness of her vagina, and I begin to rub. I use my thumb to circle her clitoris in a frantic, rhythmic motion while my finger hooks inside her, mimicking the thrust of my own aching cock. I am tongue-fucking her backside and fingering her front simultaneously, my face buried in her scent, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I am a mess, a pathetic, trembling man, and I have never been happier in my entire life.
Her breath hitches. I feel her internal walls clamp down on my finger, a sudden, violent contraction. A low, guttural moan escapes her as she arches her back, her thighs shaking violently against my face. She is peaking again. I can feel the ripples of her second orgasm pulsing through her body, the sheer intensity of her release vibrating through my tongue and my fingers. As she screams into the quiet of the room, my own erection feels like it might actually snap. I am completely, totally, in all ways hers. The idea that I’ve provided her such pleasure, that I’m her tool, leaves me breathless and terribly excited.
She pants, her voice a command, not a request, “Lay on your back. Right now!”
I scramble to obey, my movements clumsy and frantic. I collapse onto the carpet, my back hitting the surface with a quiet thud that echoes in the silent room. I’m shaking, my chest heaving, eyes locked on her as she looms over me. She doesn’t waste a second. She steps over me, her movements precise and dominant, and sinks her weight directly onto my chest, with a foot beside each of my ears.
I timidly ask, “May I play with your sexy breasts? Please, Mistress?”
She doesn’t seem to care, casually replying, “Why not?”