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Our Father	By : WhiteWinter Category: +A through F > Corruption of Champions Views: 9295 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Corruption of Champions or any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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          – Weeks later –

          Owca hasn’t changed one bit since you last visited. It’s a sleepy little hamlet of just a dozen or so thatched cottages, a herding pen for livestock, and a single tavern, all lining a series of a few roads which are nothing more than simple dirt tracks. The villagers are pale-skinned sheep-morphs, mostly human in appearance, but with two short, nubby horns on their foreheads and a strange fuzziness and wooliness to their curly, white hair. They each give you friendly greetings as they pass you by, still grateful to you for breaking the back of the demon horde that had troubled them for so long. Though the Owcans don’t know it, after defeating that band of demons, you took their queen, Vapula, as one of your wives. As belligerent as you knew Vapula would be – and as belligerent as she still remains – having a winged cum-vampire for a wife has its charms.

          Judging by the villagers’ unassuming smiles as they wave to you, they don’t seem to sense how much you’ve changed since you last visited. They don’t yet realize that you aren’t quite the man you were before. But they will.

          You’ve come to Owca supposedly for the usual reason: to ‘enjoy’ a chaste, infuriatingly-innocent bath with the young sheep-woman Rebecc, to submerge yourself in the Owcans’ unique, strangely-purifying milk, to soothe your aches, ease your worries, and wash away some of the stubborn corruption afflicting you from your time in this world. And that reason used to be true, but not anymore. Now it’s simply a pretense. Now you come to Owca as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The shepherd has come to add to his flock.

          The door to Rebecc’s cottage is open, but you quietly close and lock it behind you. A short walk down a hall later, you find Rebecc in her kitchen, sitting in a chair and scrubbing sudsy plates over a tin bucket. She doesn’t notice you, and you take a moment to just enjoy the sight of her. She’s a woman grown, but she’s among the younger ones in the village; not much older in appearance than your teenaged eldest daughter. Rebecc is one of the paler girls here too; the unblemished skin of her face looks almost porcelain. Rebecc has always struck you as the prettiest sheep-girl in Owca. Her face is rounded and shapely, her nose is thin-bridged, and her lips are thin and girlish. Her bright, blue eyes are eager and expressive, and they gleam with joy more often than not. She stands a bit short, at about five-seven, but the shortness of her stature only exaggerates her already-deadly curves. Her heavy, ample breasts are only barely concealed by the low cut of her not-quite-modest peasant dress. Her wide hips have an arousing sway when she moves, and her fat ass is among the biggest in Owca. You would know. You’ve certainly ogled them all from afar often enough.

          You clear your throat to draw Rebecc’s attention, and she cocks her head up at the sound of it. A bright smile shines from her lips and eyes when she spots you, and she quickly darts up onto her feet and hurries over to you. She wraps her arms around you and squeals a cute mmm! as she hugs you tight. You hug her back and rest your nose into the thick, woolly curls of white hair that cascade down her shoulders. She smells of a pleasant mixture of fresh fruit and dish-soap. Rebecc squeezes you a bit tighter when she feels you hug her back, and that draws a chuckle from your closed lips. She’s such a sweet girl. She’ll be so wonderful for you. Eventually.

          “How have you been, darling?” she asks. “It’s been so long, I was afraid something had happened.”

          “A lot happened,” you tell her gravely, and it’ll probably be the only truthful thing you say to her.

          Rebecc rears back and locks her eyes with yours. “Is everything alright?”

          “I’m . . . troubled,” you mutter, and you let the following silence breed her concern for you. You feign an expression of distress and swallow a convincingly nervous gulp as you look away.

          “Tell me, darling,” Rebecc pleads with you. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

          “The corruption,” you answer as you look back to her. “It’s in me again,” you mutter with a weak nod. “And it’s . . . so . . . strong. I feel these . . . urges. Urges I’ve never had before. I’ve . . . I’ve done bad things. But I don’t want to do them anymore. Please, I . . . I need you, Rebecc. Will you help me?”

          “Yes, darling,” she assures you as she cups your cheeks lovingly. “I’m here for you. Of course I’ll help you.”

          You give her a relieved smile. “Thank you,” you whisper.

          “Stay here. I’ll get the milk for the bath,” she says as she turns away.

          Right then, you wrap your arm around her neck and lock your elbow under her chin, pressing tight into her throat, not too hard, as you don’t want to hurt her, but just hard enough to skillfully choke the flow of blood to her head. She thrashes about wildly and claws at you, but your chokehold is practiced and effective, and she’s lights-out in seconds. She slumps in your arms, calmly “asleep.”

          This isn’t always pleasant business . . . but eventually, Rebecc will be glad you’ve done this.

          You gently raise Rebecc and heave her onto your shoulder. You turn towards the cottage’s back door, but you pause before going to it. You turn your head to the unconscious girl on your shoulder and hike up the skirt of her dress, revealing the white panties partly wedged into the crack of her big, pale bum. With some maneuvering, you manage to crane your neck enough to press your nose into her cunt through her panties. You take a deep whiff and fill your lungs with her musky scent. You smirk. That’s the smell of a woman alright.

          You affectionately pat Rebecc’s bum as you go to the door and leave the kitchen. You’re outside in perfect timing. Two winged figures descend like lightning from the sky, in gold and purple blurs of motion.

          The first to land, Kylie, plants her feet directly by your side. Her lips curl into a smile when her gray eyes meet yours. She’s holding a gentle hand under the pregnant swell of her bare belly, careful not to disturb the rapidly-growing egg resting in her womb. The egg you put in her. Her perky breasts have swollen from hormones, pushing out her brassiere a bit more than usual. If Kylie doesn’t have D’s now, then she’s awfully close. Still not as large as her mother’s massive bust, but that’s not a criticism. By the looks of it, Kylie is already halfway through her pregnancy.

          The second to land, Vapula – the aforementioned ex-demon-queen and now begrudgingly-servile wife – lands a fair few yards away from you. She drives at you a bored glare of violet eyes as she meets your gaze. Her form is largely human, save for the two white-feathered, eagle-like wings that sprout from her back and the two short, pointed horns that sprout from her forehead, just beneath her hairline. Her face is elegantly feminine, with unblemished and purple-hued skin, her hair is long and as black as the night, and her body is strikingly curvaceous. Like everyone in your family, Vapula garbs herself in patchwork clothes, an unfortunate result of Tel’Adre – the only true city in the land – banning you and all your family from entering it. None of your wives have proven to be a decent seamstress.

          Vapula walks to you in a slow saunter, her wide hips swaying, her two arms clutched under her heavy breasts. Her wings twitch idly from emotions not well hidden; the scowl on her face only lightens when a devilish smirk crooks around her lips and a lust for revenge ignites in her violet eyes. “This is the girl that kept sending you at me?” she asks as she flicks a black lock of her hair behind her ear.

          “You will not hurt her,” you growl. You turn your head to Kylie. “Sweetie, if Vapula does anything to this girl, tell me, alright?”

          Kylie gives you a salute-like nod. Vapula rolls her eyes.

          “Why didn’t you have Sophie help with this instead of me?” Vapula gripes, shrugging and giving a quick sigh. “It could’ve been good mother-daughter kidnapping-bonding time or some shit.”

          “Sophie can hardly fly,” you answer. “Too plump for her own wings,” you muse. “That, and she can’t follow the simplest instruction that isn’t ‘spread your legs.’”

          Kylie doesn’t bat an eye at your badmouthing of her mother. She’s heard a lot worse.

          “And,” you add as you glare at Vapula. “I wanted to show you that I’m only on one person’s side: mine. Not yours, not Rebecc’s, not Owca’s. Mine. And I always win.” You turn your head to Kylie again. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

          Kylie’s smiling and dreamily petting her belly when you look to her. “Mhm,” she answers, nodding happily.

          You raise your hand and briefly cup Kylie’s soft cheek. Her smile widens.

          Vapula rolls her eyes again, but you know she believes your words. She tries to hide it, but she has a deep respect for you, a respect for how you dominate everything and everyone that opposes you . . . including her.

          You gently lower Rebecc from your shoulder and hand her to your two wives, who hold her from opposite ends. “Put her in the cave,” you command them. “Make sure the chains are tight. I don’t care if it hurts.”

          “When will you be home, Daddy?” Kylie asks.

          “About an hour, sweetie.”

          With that, you send them on their way with a quick goodbye kiss to Kylie’s lips and a sharp goodbye spank to each of their asses. They take flight with a joined sweep from their wings, and you watch them as they take a minute to coordinate their efforts before they fly off, into the horizon.

          With Rebecc safely on route to her new home, you stride with a pleased smirk as you make your way past Rebecc’s cottage to the center of Owca, where you climb the steps to the village’s gallows. There’s no noose hanging from the post, and there hasn’t been an execution here in decades.

          You liberated the Owcans from the demons that once held them at their mercy. You have more right than anyone to do what you’re about to do.

          “People of Owca,” you shout, effortlessly using your magic to make your voice unnaturally loud and booming. “Gather here. I have something to announce to you.”

          Sure enough, the sheep-people villagers start funneling out of their homes and out of the tavern, gathering into a crowd in front of the gallows. When you’re confident that nearly every last villager is here, men and women both, adults and children all. You give each of them a moment looking into your eyes. You can see that some of the villagers sense your intentions are sour, but most look to you with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

          “You might doubt this by the time I’ve finished speaking,” you begin, bellowing at them. “But we want the same thing, you all and I. We want our families to be safe. We want to protect them from the demons that infest this world. I’m a father now, and just like those of you here that are parents, I’ll do anything and everything to protect my children. And that’s exactly what I intend to do here today.”

          The crowd remains silent. Even the youngest do not dare to speak. You’ve captured their full attention. That’s good. But that silence won’t last.

          “And that brings me to why I’ve called you all here. I’ve decided to offer you all the honor and distinction of being the first community in Mareth to bend the knee and swear fealty to me.”

          Murmurs and whispers break out amongst the crowd, but you don’t give them much chance to consider your words.

          “Should you accept this offer, you will obey me at all times. You will consider my word to be law. And you will have men ready to take up arms for me and cull demons from this land when I call on them. If you kneel but then break from any of these vows, there will be punishment.”

          “Is this a joke?” one of the villagers speaks up from amongst the crowd. You can’t see exactly who spoke, and so you can’t put a face to the voice. Not that it matters.

          You sweep your eyes icily over the villagers, glaring daggers at each of them. “Do I look like I’m joking?” you shout coldly.

          “He’s corrupted,” a middle-aged sheep-man at the front of the crowd says somberly.

          “I am,” you concede.

          “We’ve resisted your kind before,” another man tells you.

          You shake your head slowly. “I am of no ‘kind.’ I am no demon. I am only me.” You sweep your eyes over them again. “You all know that I am a man with a great power. What I am offering you now is safety. I am offering you the privilege of having those that would otherwise raid and rape you think twice before doing so. And I am offering you the hope that the demons who scourge this land may someday be purged.”

          “And if we don’t trust you?” a weary-looking sheep-woman with tired eyes asks you. “If we decline?”

          “When I ask for something, the person asked has two choices. They will do as I say willingly . . . or they will do it unwillingly. There is no other option. If you decline my offer, I am prepared to force you to accept. I am prepared to do something I do not want to do. And the time has now come for you all to decide. Kneel and accept, or stand and refuse.”

          The Owcans look to each other, and there are some whispers, but none move from where they stand. None kneel. Their eyes return to you.

          Without uttering a word, you raise your hand and snap your fingers. The sharp snap echoes through the town, and at the sound of it, Rebecc’s cottage bursts into a bright, burning blaze of white, roaring flames.

          “For every minute that passes where you do not all kneel,” you shout over the fearful screams that break out amongst the crowd. “I will raze another home until this village is burned to ash.”

          “Where is Rebecc?” one of the sheep-women frantically asks another. When they look to the burning ball of whitefire that was Rebecc’s cottage, they believe their question to be answered. “Oh, Gods,” the same woman mutters.

          The looks of cautiousness and uncertainty in the Owcans’ eyes have twisted into looks of fear and horror. You hear a few children crying, and that plucks feelings of guilt from your heart. You’ve always hated that sound. It’s the worst part of fatherhood, hearing children cry. But they won’t cry for long. They’ll be better off after today.

          “The clock is ticking!” you remind them. “Kneel!” you roar.

          One by one they fall to their knees, bowing their heads low to the ground.

          “Good,” you bellow with an approving nod. “Remember my words. You’ll be thankful for this. You’ll be thankful for me. And there’s one more thing. Though you will now know me as ‘the Father,’ you will not refer to me as such. I have too much respect for the fathers here for me to share that title with their children. Instead, all of you will now refer to me as ‘my Lord.’ Now, when I count to three, as you continue to kneel, I want all of you to say those two words. Ready? One . . . two . . . three.”

          “My Lord,” they say in unison. Their numerous voices reverberate together, sounding almost like that of a congregation in a church. The fire burning Rebecc’s old home still crackles away.

          “Well done.”

          You step down from the gallows. The villagers stay perfectly still as you stride past them.

          Your pleased smile returns to you as you walk home through the plains. The plan couldn’t have gone better. You didn’t take a single life – which you never intended to do – and yet the Owcans now fear you as though you’d end any of them on the quickest whim. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t spill a drop of blood, and you stayed true to that promise. And you’ve also convinced them Rebecc is dead. The Owcans have no reason to attempt a ‘rescue’ now. As far as they know, there’s no one to bring home. Incredible. You cowed the sheep without culling them.

          The long walk home is an uneventful one. Once you’ve neared your campsite beside the large, lifeless portal – the portal you came to this world from – you forego your camp itself and instead make your way to one of the caves in a rock formation just a short walk away. The cave’s opening is tucked behind a rock pillar and easily missable, making this a reasonably safe place to keep your newest bride-to-be. A dim light greets you as you enter, emanating from a single lantern resting on the cave floor. Rebecc lies flat on her back on a ragged bedroll beside the nearby rock wall. Her chest gently rises and falls with her breath, but her eyes are still shut, still soundly asleep. Her hands and feet are both cuffed in shackles. Those around her ankles are linked to a thick steel chain that’s wrapped around a large, heavy rock, and those around her wrists are linked to a chain that leads to a square of steel you spent the better part of a day drilling into the cave wall.

          Yes, everything is set up perfectly, but . . . where’s your trunk? It should be here.

          You turn on your heel to your right, towards the shadowed part of the small cavern, and you find it then. The heavy, rectangular trunk filled with everything you’ll be needing is there, up against the wall. And to your surprise, Kylie sits atop it. The flickering flame from the lantern has shadows dancing across her face, and her eyes are hidden in the darkness.

          “What are you still doing here, sweetie?” you ask.

          Kylie holds her belly’s swell and eases herself onto her feet. When her face surges forward from the shadows, you find her full lips smiling and her bright, gray eyes glimmering with awe and wonder. She presses her body into yours. “I want to watch, Daddy,” she whispers.

          You stare into her eyes with all the intensity you can muster, a taste of what she’ll see should she stay. Kylie doesn’t waver. Her pupils flit back and forth between yours, mesmerized by you. Without a word, you shoot your hand down her breeches and squeeze a cheek of her tight ass, and though Kylie takes in a short gasp, she doesn’t flinch, and she still never takes her eyes from yours. Determined. You slip your forefinger through her soft cunt-feathers and discover that the slit of her pussy is sticky and hot, burning with lust and arousal. Her wings twitch at your touching of her twat. You pull back your moistened finger and press it into Kylie’s lips. She gladly takes it into her mouth and shuts her eyes as she licks your finger clean, savoring the flavor of her own femininity. She likes her taste.

          After she’s licked your finger clean and left it wet only with her saliva, you pull it back. “Okay, sweetie,” you tell her with a smile as she opens her eyes. “You can watch.”

          You leave Kylie’s side and flip up the lid of your trunk. There’s only two things you’ll be needing: a thin packet of smelling salts and a corked bottle golden liquor with a very large “WARNING” sticker. Once you have them in your hands, you flip the trunk shut and turn your attention to Rebecc. As soon as you leave your trunk, Kylie takes her seat again atop it.

          “Daddy?” Kylie chirps up when you turn away from her.

          You peer at her over your shoulder. “Yes, sweetie?”

          “Can I touch myself?”

          Cute.

          “Of course, sweetie,” you answer, smirking.

          Kylie tugs her breeches down to her ankles and kicks them away before eagerly slipping her right hand under her belly. She opens her legs, and her cunt-feathers part with them. She brings her forefinger and middle finger together to make a single soft prong and promptly rubs it deep into the spongy mound of her soaked pussy, stimulating her clitoral hood and the outer lips of her wet slit.

          Though she hasn’t lost her characteristic demureness, your sweet girl sure has turned into a lustful young thing.

          As you watch her, you decide that your precious daughter is well-deserving of receiving a brief treat.

          Moving quickly and wordlessly, you spin to face Kylie again and start towards her. Her masturbating fingers fall still in confusion, but when you lower yourself to your knees and set the items down beside the trunk, those fingers quickly retreat. You spread her legs wider, and Kylie watches with bated breath as you lower your head to her crotch. The heady, womanly scent of her ripe, inflamed cunt tickles your nose, prompting a rush of saliva to fill your mouth. Without sparing Kylie a single glance, you give Kylie’s pink slit an open-mouthed kiss, pressing your lips onto her cleft and running your tongue deep through her hot flesh, which you then repeat again and again. Your girl breathes continuous, high-pitched whimpers through her closed lips, overcome with the pleasure of her father eating her young pussy. Occasionally, you stop with your kisses and licks to instead suck on her clitoral hood or one of her lips, leisurely sampling Kylie’s soaked cunt however you please.

          Her pussy quickly soaks your tongue. Her taste is thick in your mouth. Almost salty, almost sour, almost metallic, but not quite any of the three. There’s no good comparison that does it justice. It’s the taste of a woman . . . and it’s addicting.

          Though your intent was simply to stop after just a minute or two, it’s only a moment later you’re capping off a long stroke of your tongue with an upwards flick over her clit when Kylie suddenly begins shuddering and moaning loudly as she blows her top. Her body rhythmically clenches as she gasps and exhales heavy, husky breaths.

          Kylie sure did have herself worked up as she waited for you, didn’t she?

          You smack your lips and tongue a few times after you stand to your feet, letting the taste of Kylie’s cunt pervade in your mouth.

          “Thank you, Daddy,” Kylie whispers, her eyes closed, her chest slowly rising and falling.

          “You’re welcome, baby,” you reply as you give her sensitive pussy a few under-handed pats, chuckling when she flinches uncontrollably at the incredibly intense touch.

          You pick back up the items you’ll be needing. It’s time to get down to business.

          You stride over to Rebecc and lower yourself onto one knee beside her. Behind you, Kylie is already gingerly diddling herself again, slowly working towards a second climax. That one she’ll have to manage on her own. You put the packet of smelling salts against Rebecc’s nose and snap it your hand to the tune of a shrill crack! The next breath Rebecc draws takes the salts’ gas through her nose and into her lungs. She awakens in a start, her eyes jumping open as her frightened pupils dart fearfully over your face. You toss away the salts and quickly press your open hand over her mouth, silencing her before she can utter a word.

          “Before you speak,” you begin calmly, “Do not call me by my old name. That’s not me. Not anymore. As far as you’re concerned, my name is ‘husband.’ You can still call me darling if you’d like, but you will never call me by my old name again. Do you understand?”

          Her chest heaves with terrified breaths, but she makes no other reaction.

          “Do you understand?” you suddenly growl at her, speaking much harsher and much louder.

          She jams her eyes shut and nods furiously. Good enough. Satisfied, you take your hand from her mouth.

          “Please,” Rebecc mutters as she opens her eyes again. “Let me go.”

          “Why is that always the first thing they say?” you muse with a short, cruel laugh. “Do you really think I’d have brought you here just to let you go? Because you asked nicely? No, that’s not happening,” you tell her as you shake your head. “You’re here to stay.”

          Rebecc scoots up off her back and onto her bottom. She looks up and down and all around, getting a good idea of just how trapped she truly is. She tugs her arms in an attempt to free herself, but it’s futile. The chains won’t come loose. She looks to her feet and whimpers when she discovers that they too are shackled.

          “You would’ve ended up marrying some simple Owcan before long,” you muse to Rebecc as you look over her. “And that would’ve been a waste. You belong with me. And you want this, Rebecc, I know you do. Well, maybe not exactly like this,” you quip as you nod to her chains. “But . . . all those baths together, all those times you touched me and teased me and whispered sweet nothings into my ear . . . you’ve fantasized of being my wife. I know you have. I can read people, Rebecc. I can look inside them. It’s easier to do through touch . . . and you’ve touched me plenty, haven’t you? I’ve seen your fantasies, Rebecc. Now I’m making them a reality. That’s what I do. I act, I take charge,” you tell her with an emphatic clenching of your fist. “I’m bringing our dreams to life.”

          “Please,” she says again as fear and helplessness colors her shaking voice. “Why are you doing this?”

          Didn’t you just answer that?

          “Rebecc, I could’ve just had children with one woman and let that be the end of it. But the problem there is that the size of my family isn’t all I care about. I want variety. I want a family like no other. I want children of every kind, cut from every cloth.”

          You get the sense Rebecc isn’t paying much attention to your words. Her eyes are stuck on something behind you.

          Confused, you turn your head to where Rebecc is looking. You chuckle when you see Kylie nervously looking back and forth from Rebecc to you. Kylie’s hand has fallen still atop her pussy, and her two fingers shine in the light with obscene wetness. Being the good girl she is that knows to stay quiet when her father is speaking, you’d nearly forgotten Kylie was here.

          “It’s okay, sweetie,” you assure her calmly. “Go on. Don’t stop.”

          At your words, Kylie’s wet fingers slowly resume their rubbing, creating an audible shlicking.

          “That’s Kylie,” you explain to Rebecc. “My baby girl. My oldest daughter . . . and my wife.” As you watch Kylie pleasure herself, you decide to stand to your feet and stride to her. When you’re standing over her, you close your hand over one of Kylie’s feathery tits and squeeze and fondle the soft flesh. Kylie’s lock with yours. Intoxicated by your touch and your affection, her jaw thoughtlessly drops to better allow her to puff hot, aroused breaths. Smirking, you lean down and put your open lips over hers, mauling her tongue with your own as you give her a quick but passionate kiss.

          “She’s a sweet thing,” you say of Kylie as you pull away, as a single thread of saliva hangs briefly from your lips to hers until you pull far enough back to break it. “But don’t waste your breath,” you tell Rebecc as you return to her and crouch beside her again. Surprisingly, the sheep-girl doesn’t look too disturbed by the shameless display of passionate, incestuous love. The shock of being kidnapped is probably taking priority. “She won’t be helping you, so just pretend she’s not here.” Then a thought comes to you, and you wag your hand behind yourself, towards Kylie. “Actually, do you want to know something about Kylie? She’s never once seen an imp. Never in her life. No imp, no demon, no nothing, not once. I keep her safe, Rebecc. I keep all my family safe. You’ll be safe here too. You and our baby.”

          “Baby? . . .” Rebecc mumbles.

          “B-A-B-Y,” you mock her as you emphasize each letter with a not-so-gentle pat to her cheek. “Gods, have you been paying attention to anything I’ve been saying? That’s why I took you. That’s why you’re here. You’re a part of this family now. I’m sure it doesn’t seem like it right now . . . but, listen, I don’t want you chained in this cave either. And the sooner you show me that I can trust you, the sooner you’ll get somewhere better to sleep.”

          Rebecc whines and thrashes her arms about again, noisily rattling her chains.

          You sigh. “Do you see this here?” you ask as you rotate the bottle of liquor in your hand. “It’s called ‘Bimbo Liqueur.’ I could force you to drink this. Wouldn’t be too hard to just pour it down your throat. I’ve made a woman drink it before. Just ask Kylie’s mother. And Rebecc, drinking this would change you. Forever. And not necessarily for the better. You’d only care about one thing for the rest of your days. You’d base your life around it . . . around getting it from me. You’d live and breathe sex.”

          Rebecc’s eyes widen at the sight of it. “Please don’t,” she begs you.

          “Don’t worry,” you tell her. “The choice is yours to make. If you choose to behave, then I won’t make you drink it. But, if you choose to misbehave, then . . .” you pause and give her a few tsks with your tongue as you shake the bottle. “Let’s just say you’d never misbehave again.”

          You let your words sink in for a moment before speaking again, allowing the only noise in the cavern to be Kylie’s lewd shlicking.

          “So, have you made your choice?” you ask.

          “Yes,” Rebecc whispers.

          “What are you going to do?”

          “Behave.”

          You nod. “Good. And who am I?”

          “Husband.”

          You briefly return to Kylie and the trunk and set the Bimbo Liqueur down beside her. You give your fervently-masturbating daughter a knowing smile before turning to face your newest wife. “Well then,” you say as you raise your right hand. “It’s time to consummate.”

          You snap your fingers.

          An unseen force rips through the fabric of Rebecc’s peasant dress, rending it clean in two from her collar to the tip of her skirt. The sharp ripping echoes off the cavern’s walls. Rebecc winces in fear at the suddenness of it. You hurry over to her and descend on her like a starving wolf, pulling at her ruined dress with your hands. It’s just a couple tugs later that you’ve fully stripped her nude and bared her body to your eyes, and though you’ve seen her bare many times before in those damned baths in her tub, the sight of her now, helpless at your feet, thrills you in a way it never did before.

          She’s just sublime. Her body is thin but heavy at the same time, in all the right ways. Though she has two bountiful, pink-nippled breasts that bounce and jiggle nicely when you slap them, you can also just faintly see the outline of the bottom of her ribcage, giving her a dual look of curves and thinness. The slenderness of her waist gives her body a pronounced, womanly curve, from her heavy chest to her wide hips. Her flesh is pale and smooth, and though her body looks utterly hairless, when you look closer, you can see that she does have small, fine hairs on her body, same as a human. It’s white like the hair of her head.

          You give her hefty breasts a few more appreciative cups, squeezes, and slaps before moving down to the only part of her you’ve never gotten a good look at before. Rebecc doesn’t fight you as you put your hands to her thighs and forcefully part her legs. Her cunt is furred by an unruly, uncut bush of soft, snowy-white hair, and though you’ve managed brief glances at it before, you still frown when you see it. You have no problem with a fair amount of cunt hair, but that’s too much for your taste. Your mouth twitches as you lash out at her crotch with that same unseen force, and your sheep-bitch flinches when her bush is suddenly – but harmlessly and painlessly – sheared from her, leaving only a trimmed patch of white hair above her pussy. Much better.

          With that done, your unobstructed eyes find that Rebecc’s cunt has butterfly-shaped, outwardsly-visible labia, not like the “innies” of some of your other wives whose labial lips are thinner and tucked within them – Kylie, for example – but you’re a firm believer that all pussies are equally beautiful, and noticeable labia or not, Rebecc sends lust rushing to your head and blood to your cock all the same as any other.

          You run your thumbs along the pink lips of Rebecc’s cunny, teasing her labia as you urge her pussy to moisten for you, which it quickly does. You don’t dare to slip those thumbs inside her. The first thing you put inside her will not be a thumb or a finger. Rebecc lightly squirms as you diddle her, but you only hardly notice, and only hardly care. When you’re satisfied with her wetness, you use a thumb and forefinger to pull open the lips and folds of her cunt to get a better look at her tunnel, and . . . well, well, well, what is this now? Despite all those times Rebecc mercilessly teased you and lay nude in a tub with you, she’s a virgin. The tunnel of her cunt still sports that telltale membrane of flesh. Her last bastion of purity.

          There’s something about that little piece of flesh that just crosses the wires in your mind in the best kind of way, and that reaction has only grown stronger as you’ve finally embraced the corruption that this world had long been threatening to taint you with. To see a girl’s innocence in their body and in their flesh, and then to steal that innocence and forever claim it as yours . . . there’s just nothing like it.

          Rebecc closes her eyes and turns her head away. You take issue with that. You grab her face, squishing her cheeks, and forcefully redirect her towards you. “Open your eyes,” you command her. She hesitantly complies. “Don’t pretend you’re somewhere else,” you growl as you burn your intense gaze into hers. “You’re here. With me.”

          She keeps her eyes on yours as you shrug out of your clothes. When you join Rebecc in the nude, you hear the wet cadence of Kylie’s self-diddling hasten. You kneel between your sheep-bitch’s open legs and grab your cock, a hard, achingly-needy member that’s longing to finally be sheathed again in a woman’s warmth and wetness. You give your cock a few prepping tugs before lining it up with Rebecc’s flower and prodding your crown against her. When your manhood is aligned with its target and needs only a single motion to be pushed into its new home, you release it and shift both of your hands to Rebecc’s hips, getting a good grip to claim her with. When you’ve got it, you set to thrust your hips forward.

          But . . . no. This isn’t quite right. You won’t take her like this. Not without her submitting. She can’t be passive. She needs to give herself to you. She needs to make it clear to herself that she’s your willing wife.

          “Spread your cunt,” you command her.

          Keeping her eyes obediently affixed to yours, Rebecc slowly shifts one of her shackled arms downwards, moving her hand to her crotch. Her throat pulses with a visible gulp. She puts two fingers on each side of her flower, and she hesitates only briefly before gently pulling open her newly-hairless folds, fully exposing the inner pink of her pussy.

          “Tell me to take you.”

          “Take me,” she whispers.

          That’s more like it.

          In one sharp thrust, you jam your hips into hers.

          Rebecc’s hymen gives way and tears before your member, and Rebecc pulls her hand back and visibly tenses as you push into her. Her tunnel grips against each inch as you spear yourself through it, clenching from the discomfort of its first invasion. She’s a tight fit, as you’d expect from a virgin, and she’s no less warm or wet than she is snug. You hold there motionless for a moment and sigh, savoring the feel within her. You’d almost forgotten what a woman that isn’t Kylie felt like, being that she’s received almost all your attention over the past two weeks. It’s a nice contrast.

          Though Rebecc does a good job of keeping her eyes on yours, her face threatens to twist into a grimace from the pain of her deflowering. And you give her no chance to get accustomed to the feeling of fullness. You draw your hips back only to thrust back in, slotting your cock back to its hilt inside her warmth. With your hands on her hips, you pull Rebecc towards you in time with each of your forward thrusts, doubling the friction and pleasure as you forcefully smother every inch of your lengthy cock in the heat and moisture of her freshly-deflowered cunt. Though a nearly-overwhelming electric bliss webs up your spine as heat flushes through your core, you’re not content to simply rut Rebecc like this. She’s your newlywed bride, after all.

          You lower your face to Rebecc’s and wedge your lips against hers, kissing her hungrily as your thrusting hips violently fuck her snug cunt. Greedy for still more stimulation, the pace of your hips quickens. Rebecc whimpers as her young, tight walls give way again and again around your aggressive, invading cock. Your balls clap into Rebecc’s big, jiggling ass as you send the sound of slapping flesh bouncing off the walls. You’ve very quickly transformed the cave into a lewd echo chamber of lust, of your groans, Rebecc’s whimpers and Kylie’s moans.

          Your cock swells harder and thicker, invigorated by the soaking heat snuggling it from every direction, and the increased fullness has your sheep-bitch’s pussy feeling even tighter around you. You shift your hands from her hips, moving one to a cheek of Rebecc’s sizable ass and the other to the soft, white hair of the back of her head. You push your tongue further into her mouth and brush it over hers as you punch your cock into her with deep, full thrusts. You push your tongue and cock deep inside her, claiming the two holes as yours. Like your other wives before her, Rebecc belongs to you, and like every other woman who is yours, she’ll spend the rest of her days sating you and pleasing you whenever you seek it, taking your throbbing cock into her cunt and your fertile seed into her womb. And you want to hear her say it.

          You tear your mouth from Rebecc’s and move your hand from the back of her head to her throat. “Tell me who you belong to,” you growl at her, your hips still thrusting.

          Rebecc doesn’t answer you, and her eyes are still shut from your kiss. She’s too busy whimpering under the mercy of what you can only guess is a conflicting mess of pain and pleasure. So you squeeze your fingers into her throat, just enough to break her from her trance and to make her eyes snap open and meet yours.

          “Who do you belong to?” you snarl as you bring your face closer to hers.

          “You,” she immediately whispers.

          “And who am I?”

          “Husband,” she says.

          There’s this look in Rebecc’s eyes you’ve never seen from her. Not quite fear . . . not quite misery . . . it seems like . . . awe. Awe of you. Rebecc had never seen this part of you, this relentless dominance. She’ll be seeing it much more in the future. The only question is whether she’ll grow accustomed to it, as the sweet, obedient girl behind you has.

          You reward Rebecc’s obedience with a fiery kiss, pushing your tongue into her mouth, and this time, she embraces it. She opens her mouth wide for you, and her tongue dances with yours. Likewise, below you, her legs splay and spread open, giving you an easy, open angle to pound her, and that you do. You take her hard and deep, pushing deep inside her, kissing her cervix with your cockhead at the apex of every thrust. Her show of obedience submission is well-timed, as your gut and balls soon clench and tighten. A pressure builds in your core, the sign of your coming end. You’ve plucked Rebecc’s flower. Now it’s time to fertilize it.

          Behind you, Kylie’s moaning suddenly and loudly shifts into a shrill cry of bliss as she reaches her second orgasm. Her wet fingers continue to audibly pleasure herself as she does all she can to forcefully wring her orgasm for every ounce of ecstasy it’ll give her.

          You bottom out balls-deep into Rebecc and press the tip of your throbbing cock against the winking hole of her cervix. A warm, tingling bliss seeps into your bones as your cock starts twitching out your load, spewing thick ropes of virile seed directly into Rebecc’s fertile womb. You expel the air from your lungs with a throaty groan as you climax. You cum and cum for what feels like an eternity, filling your newest wife’s womb until you’ve no doubt that it’s a mess of white and sloshing with your seed.

          You let out another groan when you pull out. With your member no longer damming it, the seed that has no room to rest in Rebecc’s womb is freed from between the lips of her well-used cunt, flowing in a thick, clumpy river of white. As thick as it is, there’s a damn good chance that this load will take inside her. Your half-erect cock is smeared with the mark of a good fucking, of your seed and of Rebecc’s wetness, and solely by an instinct you’ve grown over the past two weeks, you begin to wonder where your submissive cock-cleaner is. Then, sure enough, Kylie appears beside you, kissing your cheek.

          “Can I clean you, Daddy?” she asks. “I want to taste it.”

          You nod.

          Kylie gets onto her hands and knees and wets her soft lips with two flicks of her tongue, getting them good and ready to please and clean you. When they are, she lowers her mouth to your crotch and pushes those plump, puckered of hers down the crown of your sensitive cock, drawing a quiet gasp from you. Kylie grabs you by the base of your shaft, but only to keep you steady. She knows better than to use her hands on your cock. She knows that’s cheating. Kylie then immediately gets to work bobbing her head, pushing her moist lips up and down your length from tip to base, taking you to the back of her throat with every thrust, never gagging or sputtering. She worships you with her warm tongue, brushing it along your cock in long, firm licks, lapping away more and more of the fluids slicked against your member as she happily sucks you clean, an activity she’s practiced to perfection. She cups your balls in her soft fingers and cradles them gently in her hand, teasing and rolling them, all while she continues fellating you. Despite still being a teenaged girl, Kylie is already a masterful cocksucker. She puts her mother to shame.

          Kylie soon manages to urge you into a swift second orgasm, drawing out another load of a few more thick spurts of cum that spatter her tongue. Your sweet girl gladly swallows each salty string of your seed the very moment she tastes them, moaning softly as she gulps down your gift to her. After she’s certain that she’s swallowed the last of it, Kylie pops your limp, thoroughly-cleaned member from her lips and gives your cockhead a quick, loving kiss. When you and her stand to your feet, you reward her efforts with a sharp swat to her tight ass, which draws a gleeful squeal from her.

          With the both of you utterly sated, you and Kylie grab your discarded clothes one piece at a time. When you’re dressed, you both look to Rebecc. She’s motionless on her bedroll, eyes closed, waiting for sleep to come and take her. Your white seed still trickles from between her legs. At least she isn’t crying. Numbness is a better sign than hysterics.

          “Do you think she’ll be good?” Kylie asks.

          “Yeah. I do.”
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Our Father