Daddy’s Obsession

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Vivienne’s legs barely carried her up the stairs.

Every step pulled at the smarting heat across her ass where the belt had landed. Her panties were still tangled around her thighs, skirt bunched uselessly at her waist. The wet evidence of her first orgasm cooled on her inner thighs with each shaky movement. Behind her she could hear him—slow, measured footsteps. Arcturus was not rushing. He never rushed when he had already won.

She reached her bedroom and stopped in the doorway. The lamp on her nightstand was still on from earlier, casting a soft gold pool across the white sheets. Her bed. The same bed she had slept in since she was twelve. The same bed where she had touched herself in the dark, biting her pillow so he wouldn’t hear, pretending the fingers between her legs belonged to someone else. Anyone else.

They never had.

“On the bed.” His voice came from the hallway, low and absolute. “Ass up. Knees spread.”

Vivienne’s throat tightened. She stepped inside and climbed onto the mattress on trembling hands and knees, presenting herself the way he had ordered downstairs. The position left her completely open. Cool air kissed the swollen, slick folds of her cunt. She could feel how wet she still was—how her body continued to betray her even after she had already come apart on his fingers.

She heard the soft click of the door closing. Then the lock turning.

Arcturus’s presence filled the room like heat. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She could feel him looking at her—at the red marks across her ass, at the ruined panties still stretched between her thighs, at the way her cunt glistened under the low light.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “My perfect little bird with no wings. Trapped in this house. Trapped with me.”

His hand settled on one burning cheek, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. Then his fingers slid lower, dragging through the mess between her legs. Vivienne’s breath hitched. A soft, broken sound slipped out of her before she could stop it.

“Still soaked,” Arcturus said, almost thoughtfully. “I made you come downstairs and your cúnt is still begging.” He tapped two fingers lightly against her clít Once. Twice. The soft, wet sound was obscene in the quiet room. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you like this, Vivienne Heaven? Since the day you turned eighteen. The day the law finally stopped protecting you from me.”

She shivered. She remembered that birthday. The way his eyes had changed. The way the rules had tightened until she felt like she couldn’t breathe without permission. No more late nights. No more unapproved friends. The single kiss she had shared with a boy at a party two months after turning eighteen had earned her the worst spanking of her life—bent over his desk, skirt flipped up, his belt painting fire across her ass while he told her in a calm, deadly voice that no one else would ever put their mouth on what was his.

She had never kissed anyone again.

“Daddy—” Her voice cracked. “Please… this is wrong.”

“Wrong.” He almost laughed. The sound was dark. “You’ve known it was wrong for three years. You’ve known every time I looked at you too long. Every time I made you sit on my lap. Every time I punished you and your panties came away wet.” His fingers slid through her folds again, slow and deliberate, gathering her slick. “And you still can’t tell me to stop. Because it feels good, doesn’t it? Being owned.”

Vivienne’s only answer was a shaky inhale. Tears already pricked her eyes again—not from pain this time, but from the terrible, melting heat building between her legs.

Arcturus’s hands gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back in one smooth motion. She landed against the pillows with a soft cry. Before she could close her legs he was already between them, spreading her thighs wide with his palms. The ruined panties were dragged the rest of the way down and tossed aside. Her skirt followed. Then his hands were at the hem of her blouse.

“Everything off,” he ordered. “Now.”

“Daddy, I—”

“Obey.”

The single word left no room. Vivienne’s fingers shook as she pulled the blouse over her head, then reached back to unclasp her bra. The moment the last piece of clothing left her body she was completely bare beneath him—twenty-one years old, flushed, wet, and trembling on her own bed while her stepfather looked at her like a man who had finally been allowed to starve no longer.

Arcturus’s eyes dragged over every inch of her. The soft curves of her breasts. The faint marks his belt had left. The glistening mess between her spread thighs. Something feral moved behind his expression.

“Mine,” he said quietly. Then he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, hooked his hands under her thighs, and dragged her toward him until her ass nearly hung off the mattress. “This cúnt is mine. This body is mine. This orgasm you’re about to have is mine.”

He didn’t ease her into it.

He put his mouth on her.

The first long, slow drag of his tongue through her slit dragged a broken moan out of Vivienne’s throat. Her back arched off the bed. Arcturus groaned against her like a man tasting something he had craved for years. He licked her open with filthy, deliberate strokes—broad and wet and unrelenting—before sealing his lips around her c**t and sucking hard.

“Ah—! Daddy—f**k—”

Her hands flew to his hair. She didn’t know if she was trying to push him away or pull him closer. He didn’t give her the choice. Two thick fingers pushed inside her without warning, curling immediately against that devastating spot while his tongue lashed her c**t in tight, ruthless circles.

The dual assault was devastating. Vivienne’s thighs clamped around his head. Her hips bucked helplessly against his mouth. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room—the slick glide of his fingers, the filthy wet noise of him eating her like he was starving, the high, broken moans she couldn’t swallow.

“That’s it,” Arcturus growled against her cunt, the words vibrating through her. “f**k my face, little slút. Show Daddy how desperate this pretty cúnt is for him.”

“I’m not—ah—I’m not a—”

He sucked her clít harder, cutting the protest off into a sharp cry. His fingers thrust deeper, faster. The wet sound of her cunt taking him was filthy.

“You are,” he corrected, voice dark and rough. “You’re my whóre. My obedient little daughter who soaks the second I put my hands on her. My forbidden cúnt that no other man will ever taste.” He licked a long, slow stripe from her entrance up to her c**t and then flicked the swollen bud with the tip of his tongue. “Come on my tongue, Vivienne. Come for your daddy like the good slút you are.”

The first orgasm ripped through her without mercy.

Vivienne’s back bowed. A broken, high sound tore from her throat as her cunt clamped down on his fingers. Pleasure detonated low in her belly and radiated outward in violent waves. Her thighs shook violently around his head. Clear fluid gushed around his fingers, soaking his hand, his chin, the sheets beneath her. She was squirting—helpless, messy, completely undone—while her stepfather licked her through it like a man possessed.

He didn’t stop.

Even as she sobbed and twitched and tried to squirm away from the overstimulation, Arcturus held her down and kept going. His tongue returned to her c**t, softer now but relentless. His fingers slowed but never left her, stroking that same devastating spot inside her while she trembled through the aftershocks.

“Daddy—please—I can’t—”

“You can.” His voice was rough, almost cruel with want. “You’re going to give me another one. Right now. All over my face like the filthy little daughter you are.”

He sealed his mouth over her again and sucked.

Vivienne shattered.

The second orgasm hit harder than the first—white-hot and blinding. Her hips jerked wildly against his mouth. Another rush of wetness spilled out of her, soaking his tongue, his jaw, the bed. She cried out so loudly her voice broke, fingers twisted tight in his hair, grinding her cunt against his face with helpless, desperate rolls of her hips while he growled approval against her and licked up every drop.

Only when she was limp and shaking and gasping for air did Arcturus finally lift his head.

His mouth and chin were shiny with her. His eyes were black with hunger. He looked at the wrecked girl spread open on the bed—flushed, tear-streaked, thighs still trembling—and something dark and satisfied settled over his expression.

He crawled up her body, braced himself above her, and dragged two wet fingers across her bottom lip.

“Taste what you just gave me.”

Vivienne’s lips parted on instinct. The flavor of herself on his fingers was filthy and intimate. She whimpered.

Arcturus leaned down until his mouth brushed her ear.

“This is only the beginning,” he said softly, voice rough with restrained violence. “I’m going to ruin this cúnt for anyone else. I’m going to f**k you until you forget every name but mine. And when I’m done, you’re going to thank me for it.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth—slow, claiming, almost tender.

Then he sat back, eyes never leaving her wrecked body, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“We’re not finished, Vivienne Heaven.”

His voice dropped into something dark and final.

“Not even close.”