Ch. II: Fiona's Papa Bears Witness
by Whispersecret ©
Copyright 2000 by the author. All rights reserved.
If only every business deal could end up with me fucking a gorgeous virgin, Rockwell thought. He sat back on his haunches, amused because Fiona was pretending to be asleep. She lay there, her long black hair in glorious disarray on the sheets, her stomach dotted with his sperm. Between her legs, he saw more of his spunk, along with a little of her virginal blood, seeping out of her pussy. He dipped his finger into that sticky warmth, coated it, and then almost lovingly wiped it on her lips. She immediately flinched and opened her eyes, betraying the fact that she had not truly been sleeping.
"I’m going to release you, Fiona."
Fiona’s eyes flashed with excitement. Maybe she’d been wrong, and it was over after all. Maybe he would leave and she could try to forget this hateful assault had ever happened--try to convince herself that she hadn’t enjoyed it.
Rockwell rose from the bed with the fluid, masculine grace of an athlete. Despite the fact that the man had just force-fucked her, she had to admire the perfection of his body. She imagined he must work out in a personal gym every day to have developed a physique like his. Each muscle in his body was beautifully defined.
Her eyes were drawn to his cock, streaked with her blood and their mingled juices. Remembering how it had filled her body and driven her to a violent climax, she flushed hotly and her pussy twitched as if it yearned for more.
No, she told herself, I didn’t enjoy it. I couldn’t have. My climax was a purely biological reaction, my body’s reflex to stimulation. That was all -- because no decent woman would enjoy what I just went through.
Rockwell chuckled, and she snapped her gaze to his face. He looked amused, as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. His stance reeked of arrogance, and his penis, although hanging at rest, seemed to mock her. As she looked at it, she could have sworn it flexed. Her eyes flicked up to Rockwell’s face and then back down. There was no mistaking it. His cock was rising again, filling with blood.
"I’m going to let you wash in a moment. But first, you will lick me clean as you did before." As he spoke he leaned over her, unlocked her restraints, and freed her wrists from the bracelets.
"You can’t be serious," Fiona said.
He merely looked at her.
Again, he was asking her to perform some depraved act. The mere thought of sucking his dick clean of her blood and their secretions was disgusting.
He stood next to the bed, waiting as she rubbed her wrists. She knew he would not tolerate much delay, so she scooted off the bed and took his hardening cock in her hands. From the first tentative lick, she recognized the distinctive flavor of his cum, pungent, salty, strangely rich and earthy, even powerful. There was the sharp coppery taste of blood, and behind that was a tangy, fruity essence that must be her own. Fiona felt uncertain as she licked and sucked him. The combined flavors were not entirely unpleasant; she almost liked the taste, which made her feel distinctly uneasy.
Rockwell’s prick throbbed with renewed need as he watched a variety of expressions play out over her face. She had obviously been uncomfortable with the idea of tasting herself on his prick, but he could see that now she was starting to like it. Her tongue flicked out with more enthusiasm. She seemed to be taking the time to fully appreciate the nuances of the flavors in her mouth. When his cock and balls were completely clean, he pulled out and stroked her head gently in praise. His shaft was wet with her saliva, and as much as he wanted to pump between her lips again, he would not cum in her mouth now. Yes, he had an amazing libido and had been known to fuck all night long, but he wanted to pace himself.
"Enough," he said. "Go and wash. Take as long as you like, but use the shower, not the bath."
With a slight gesture of dismissal, he turned his back on her. She wasted no time in scrambling off the bed to run into the bathroom. Fiona couldn’t believe her luck. There was a phone in her bathroom. She could lock the fucking door against Rockwell. By the time he broke it down--and she had no doubt that he would--she could call the police.
Too late she realized that the knob on the bathroom door had been completely removed. She picked up the phone; it was dead. Damn him. He’d thought of everything.
As she hung up the phone, she told herself that a way to escape would come along. She just needed to be ready to act. For now, at the very least, she could rid her skin of the dried flakes of his cum. She turned on the water for a shower.
While Fiona was busy in the bathroom, Rockwell walked to the intercom on the wall. He pressed a button.
"I hope you’re there, Sheridan."
A weak voice came over the speaker. "I’m here."
"Did you listen?"
"God help me. Yes." Fiona’s father sounded drained, as if he’d just been defeated in battle. And so he had.
Rockwell chuckled. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did."
Rockwell laughed again. So the old man still had some fight in him.
"Bring up some brandy. And then stay there by the intercom until further instruction. The night is young and there is much more to be experienced." Rockwell jabbed another button, locking the intercom on transmission only.
Ever since his wife died, Frank Sheridan’s business had been in trouble. She had always been the brain behind the company’s success. That was why he’d married her in the first place. When Rockwell came along and initiated a take-over bid, Frank knew immediately that he would sell. He’d been screwing things up for a year and it showed in the earnings reports. When Rockwell made an offer, not wanting to appear desperate, Frank ordered his team to propose a half-hearted counteroffer. And so it began.
One day the negotiations were dragging. Neither side seemed to be making any headway. Rockwell, apparently uninterested, fiddled with paper clips and let his subordinates do the talking.
Suddenly, Fiona burst into the room like an explosion of springtime. Every single man in the room straightened up in his seat. She wore a sheer, billowing blouse unbuttoned to the waist to reveal the tight tank top and a short skirt.
"Fiona, what a surprise," Frank had said, not in the least surprised. He had arranged for her entrance. It wasn’t uncommon for him to use his daughter’s striking beauty to distract his business adversaries. He nodded with approval when he noticed her nipples were erect.
She stopped short, as if she hadn’t known that the room would be full of people.
"I thought you’d be ready for lunch by now, Daddy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt."
Rockwell stood, buttoning his jacket. "Not at all. I think everyone here would agree that this type of interruption is quite welcome."
Fiona smiled as Frank made introductions. Frank noted with satisfaction that Rockwell showed a definite interest in his daughter, and when the meeting broke up, Rockwell remained behind and agreed to lunch with them.
The next day Rockwell had insisted on a private meeting at Sheridan’s country estate along the James River. Frank spent the entire morning wondering what Rockwell had in mind. He’d told Fiona to make sure she stayed at the house that day. She’d grudgingly agreed.
Once he arrived, Rockwell didn’t waste any time. He followed Frank into the study and handed him a thick file. Doffing his jacket, Rockwell poured himself a drink.
"I’ll wait while you read the documents."
Frank read them--twice, actually, because he wasn’t sure if he’d actually understood. This couldn’t be right.
"I don’t think I understand," Frank had said, frowning as he scanned the papers a third time.
"Come on, Frank. Don’t be stupid. I want your daughter for a week--to use as I wish. In exchange, I will defer to every single original item that you listed during the initial negotiations, and pay the full purchase price."
While truly flabbergasted at this turn of events, Frank Sheridan didn’t hesitate.
"She’s a virgin, you know," Frank said cannily. "Three million more for her cherry."
Rockwell didn’t bat an eyelash. "Ridiculous."
"Two, then. I guarantee she’ll be worth it."
"Two hundred and fifty thousand," Rockwell replied.
Sheridan frowned. "Did I mention her tits are like—"
Frank had to break off because Fiona herself breezed in. She was wearing an almost scandalous bathing suit and a diaphanous cover up. Frank smiled inwardly. Atta girl, he thought. Impeccable timing.
"Hi, Mr. Rockwell. Nice to see you again. I’m going to the pool, Dad. Want to have lunch out there later? Say an hour?"
Frank smiled. "All right, baby girl. Rockwell, why don’t you stick around for lunch."
"Yes, please do, Mr. Rockwell." Fiona turned her bright green eyes on Rockwell and beamed at him.
"Very, very tempting, but I’m afraid not." Rockwell smiled down at her and shook his head. "I think I may have urgent business with my banker, but perhaps I can get a rain check."
After Fiona sauntered out, Sheridan practically rubbed his hands together in greed.
"Three million," Frank stated firmly. The man would have to be made of granite not to have felt something when he saw those tits.
After a little more dickering, they agreed on one million, a couple of minor conditions, and the deal was done.
Now, in the privacy of his bedroom, Frank was sitting on the floor, directly beneath the intercom. He leaned back against the wall, filled with shame. He knew he was no paragon of virtue. That was obvious; he’d pimped his own daughter to Rockwell for a million dollars.
But it wasn’t like he was some deadbeat father who couldn’t put food on the table. For nineteen years he’d given her everything her heart desired, and when he died she and her brother would inherit everything. After the deal with Rockwell closed, the estate would be worth roughly fifty million dollars, even after the government gobbled up its share. That was certainly worth something. Plus, he’d made damn sure she wasn’t going to be hurt. The contract specified that Rockwell would "inflict no bodily injury resulting in physical marks, beyond light bruises." Some father he would be if he’d allowed Fiona to be harmed. No, this was only a little harmless sex.
However, he still hadn’t meant to jerk his own cock as the sounds came over the intercom. He just hadn’t been able to stop himself…
"That’s it, sweet thing...lick it, use your tongue...I’m going deeper. Ahhhh, God, that’s incredible..."
Listening to that bastard fuck his daughter’s mouth, hearing Rockwell’s explosive groan of release as he came, had given Sheridan a painful erection. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t control his arousal as he pictured what was happening to Fiona.
Thankfully, while Rockwell had shaved Fiona, his hard-on had waned. But then, when he realized that the man was eating Fiona’s pussy, he became excited again.
Frank unfastened his pants. He was just going to give his stiff prick some room--that was all. His dick was so hot that when it popped free of his briefs the air felt sublimely cool. Without the fabric of his pants rubbing it, surely his hard-on would subside.
"You want my cock inside you, don’t you, Fiona? The only way to get satisfaction from me is to say it. The only way I’ll let you cum is if you beg me to fuck you."
Frank bit his lip in an effort to resist the urge to stroke himself, but he couldn’t shut out his daughter’s moans. Her insidious sounds of pleasure needled their way into his brain and down to his aching penis until he could hardly breathe. He felt surrounded by the hot, heavy sounds of fucking. His mind was filled with images of Fiona’s voluptuous naked body writhing in ecstasy as Rockwell pleasured her with his prick and tongue.
"Oh, fuck! I need your hot cock in my pussy, Rockwell. I need it. Please, please fuck me hard! I’m begging you, please!" And a moment later, "Oh, yes! Yes! Stuff it in me!"
That was his daughter, for God’s sake! His baby was getting fucked for the first time, and his degenerate prick was hard as a rock.
Frank heard her gasp, "Oh, God...." He could hear the anguish in her voice. The sound of it tore him up inside, even as it drove him wild with lust. Rockwell’s cock was inside her. He was filling her with his rigid dick, and Frank was hearing it all.
"It feels good, doesn’t it. Eight inches of rock hard meat inside you. Can you feel every inch of it fill you up as I push into you?"
The sounds became more and more frenzied. Frank knew that Rockwell was vigorously pumping now. Even if he couldn’t actually see the images of the fucking, his brain supplied them. Desperate to relieve his almost painful erection, Sheridan choked his cock in a merciless grip, but once he had his hand on it, he couldn’t resist anymore.
"Cum, Fiona. I want you to cum again for me."
Out of control, Frank masturbated to the sounds of his daughter getting fucked for the first time. He moved his hand with forceful jerks. His own harsh breathing unnaturally loud to him.
Then he heard the sounds of his daughter cumming. Oh, God, my baby girl, he thought as he pumped his hand, she’s cumming as that bastard fucks her.
Moments later Rockwell’s hoarse cry pushed Frank over the edge. He thought about Rockwell spurting streams of spunk into his daughter’s tight cunt as he yanked on his cock with demonic zeal. His own incestuous orgasm was long and intense. Jets of his cum spouted onto the Aubusson carpet.
Rockwell’s laughter echoed in his ears as Frank sat sprawled on the floor, stunned at what he’d just done. He’d essentially just fucked his own daughter by proxy. Frank stared at the evidence of his vile act. His hand was decorated with gooey white gobs. A foot away, his priceless antique carpet bore blotches where it had already soaked in. How could I have jerked off thinking about my own daughter? Frank sat there, immobile, incapable of rational thought until Rockwell’s demand for brandy finally roused him from his guilt-ridden stupor.
Frank stuffed his dick back in his pants and went to fetch the brandy for Rockwell. To his great surprise, a great hulk of a man stood outside his bedroom door.
"Who the hell are you?" Sheridan demanded.
"Let’s just say I’m your supervisor."
Frank stood straighter to communicate his customary authority, but it was difficult. This man was at least six feet five inches tall and roughly the size of a refrigerator. As Frank silently challenged the stranger, he saw a glint of ruthlessness in the man’s cold blue eyes.
"I’m here to make sure you follow orders," the man said.
Frank cursed under his breath. Had this guy heard him masturbating? His face flamed red at the thought of this intruder witnessing his perverted act. Without a word, Frank strode toward the staircase. The big gorilla fell into step behind him.
The walk down the stairs and through the mansion to the library cleared his head a little. At least he didn’t have to deal with any of the servants. He’d dismissed them all for the night. He wasn’t sure what he’d do in the morning when they reported for work.
In the library, the liquor cabinet held a varied selection of brandies. After deliberating, he chose the most expensive one, knowing that Rockwell would most likely know if he tried to pass off an inferior brew. Plus, King Kong was watching closely. He hesitated one moment and then impulsively grabbed a bottle of bourbon for himself.
"Make yourself useful," he said to the guard. "Get two of those glasses."
As Frank returned to Fiona’s room with the liquor, he told himself to get over his feelings of guilt. It wasn’t as if he’d actually touched her. Now that would be sick. He told himself that everybody jacked off. Everybody. In fact, he doubted whether any red-blooded man would have been able to resist under those circumstances.
Yeah, Frank thought, most men probably would have been pumping their meat at the first moan. I held off for a long time.
Frank began to feel a little proud of himself for resisting so long. Besides, fantasies were only fantasies. No harm in them whatsoever. After he’d reconciled the act in his mind, Frank started to anticipate more voyeuristic self-pleasure. He actually hadn’t cum that hard in months.
To Be Continued...
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