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Ava's Immoral Soul Ch. 01

By: dirtybusiness



Slamming the door so hard that the living room windows rattled and immaculately arranged vases jumped, Ava threw her bookbag in the general direction of the fireplace and stormed into the kitchen.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

It always felt good to make a lot of noise when you were angry, Ava thought distractedly as she yanked open the fridge and fished out a soda with a little less show -- she didn't want it spewing all over her when she cracked it open, after all -- and then kicked the door shut. 

Slam!

Her dad had left cookies on the counter, with a little note that said, I'll be home at 6, Spaghettio -- Dad. Ava's father hadn't called her Spaghettio since her mom died, three years ago. On any other day, she would have been both elated and comforted to know that he was reaching out again. Today, though, it was like grinding salt into a wound with sandpaper. 

Crumpling up the note, Ava grabbed the plate of cookies, clutched her soda in the other hand, and stalked into the living room, flopping down unceremoniously on the recliner. Her bookbag was too far away to reach with her hand, so, hook a foot through the strap and drag'er back.

Munching as angrily as one could on a delicious chocolate chip cookie, Ava settled back with the sealed envelope the school had sent home with her, inspecting the front and then the back before reading the front again. All it said was, Mr. Bradley, in the precise, tilted script of the headmaster's own hand.

Which means Big Trouble, Ava thought glumly, shoving her long, dark braid behind her shoulder. Her dad was used to getting letters from St. Magdalene's School For Reformed Girls, but he was accustomed to seeing the flowery handwriting of Mr. Creeley's secretary. The change wouldn't slip past her dad, either -- he may be out of touch emotionally, but he was certainly with it in every other aspect of his life.

Tearing a bite off her second cookie, Ava washed it down with a gulp of soda and then tore open the envelope, knowing full and well it was sealed for a reason. She didn't care, though -- she had to know what was in that letter before her dad saw it.

Dear Mr. Bradley;

I am as concerned for Ava's spiritual well-being as I am for her already tenuous footing here at St. Magdalene's. As you know, we have recorded fourteen unexcused absences, three violent verbal outbursts and several distasteful (need I say immoral) comments in class this semester alone.

We have made numerous exceptions in your daughter's case in light of your unfortunate circumstances, and because we sympathize with the difficulties you must face at home, raising such a willful and rebellious child without a mother's touch. Despite our desire to do everything we can to keep Ava enrolled here, however, she crossed a line today that puts me in an immensely difficult predicament. 

Ava and another student were absent from P.E. today; to make this awkward account as brief as possible, their whereabouts were uncovered when Sister Martha found them engaged in a carnal embrace in the locker room.

I know this must be as much of a shock for you as it is for Sister Martha and me, but this behavior is inexcusable and immoral to the extreme. It may result in Ava's expulsion from St. Magdalene's. Due to the sensitive nature of this transgression, I, Sister Martha, the other student's parents and you are the only ones who know about this incident. I would like to meet with you personally to discuss your daughter's actions and her future here at the school.

As always, praying for Ava's immortal soul, Headmaster John. P. Creeley

Ava realized that she had two fingers pressed tight over the damp folds of her pussy, her thumb bumping softly and rhythmically against her clit. Her face flushing crimson, she snatched her hand out of her panties and wiped her fingers on the pleats of her green plaid skirt before carefully refolding the letter. 

"Man, am I in for it this time," Ava bemoaned to the living room, tucking the letter back into its envelope (and her fingers back into her crotch) as she sank further into the recliner. Sister Martha had caught the girls right as they were approaching mutual sanctification; soapy bodies mashed together, Ava's fingers buried deep inside Roxie's drenched little snatch, Roxie's thumb flicking furiously at Ava's clit.

Even knowing that she was in deep shit couldn't slake her body's hunger for a mind blowing orgasm. Hooking a knee over the arm of the recliner, Ava lifted her hips, wiggled her panties down to just under the hem of her skirt and glanced at the ticking grandfather clock. Just after five. She had nearly an hour to get herself off one or two times before her dad got home (or maybe ten.. she was feeling especially frustrated in that department today).

Laying her head back, Ava closed her eyes and pushed her palm firmly on top of her clit, smashing it down as she curled her middle finger a little, letting the tip push just inside the tight opening of her sex. It was still sopping -- it had been from the moment Roxie pushed her back against the shower wall and hungrily kissed her on the mouth.

Oh, god. Just thinking about it was making her pussy twitch and clit throb all over again. Ava let her mind wander as she started grinding the heel of her hand over her clit, still working just the tip of her finger in and out of her hot, slick entrance, teasing the tight, sensitive ring of flesh. 

Roxanne -- Roxie to her friends -- had been expelled from public school and arrived at St. Magdalene's the very week that Ava met the same fate. Though the two were physically different as night and day, they shared a mutual disdain for Catholic School and authority in general, and as such became friends overnight. Roxie was a tall, athletic blond with small, perky tits, impossibly long legs, glacial blue eyes and striking features -- you could see her Icelandic heritage right away. Ava, on the other hand, was shorter and curvier, with slightly plump thighs, a juicy round ass, and soft, heavy breasts that were hard as hell to hide (not that she actually tried). Although she had a body that simply screamed to be fucked, it was her expressive green eyes set in an olive complected, almost pixie-ish face that really got people's attention. 

While Roxie and Ava liked to complain about everything from religion and government to school lunches and lousy makeup, one of their top grievances was going from public school (with boys) to reform school (for girls). To make matters worse, they were both forbidden by their 'rents to have anything to do with boys. 

Ava loved cock. She craved cock. Back in public school, she loved to skip class just so she could all but inhale her boyfriend's behind the bleachers; more than once she had sucked off other guys back there as well. Jim was the only one she'd let fuck her, though. It wasn't out of any real loyalty to him, it was just that he had such a big, fat dick that acted like a happy puppy whenever she was around, and she loved the hell out of it. 

The first semester at St. Mag's had been rough. The only cock to be found belonged to Headmaster Creeley, and he was old. By the end of that semester, though, Ava didn't even care how old he was. She was so moon-eyed for cock that she would have shagged him sideways if he'd just look at her that way. And you better believe she tried to get him to look at her as more than just a wayward pupil; bending over to pick things up when he was in the hallway, pushing her elbows in tight to thrust her ample breasts forward in his office, licking her lips and pouting suggestively when he chided her for her behavior. Apparently, though, Mr. Creeley's cock felt as old as he looked, because the most she ever got out of him was exasperation. 

It got to the point in her second semester that Ava was almost constantly in tears, and would fly into a rage at the slightest provocation. It was on one of those Rage Days when the girls, skipping third period to smoke cigarettes over at Roxie's, reached a new development in their friendship.

"Jesus, girl, you need to get laid," Roxie had said with that husky laugh when Ava snapped unnecessarily at her. Chagrined, Ava sighed and rolled around onto her back, tossing the magazine she had been flipping through onto the floor. "Fat fucking chance of that happening ever again," she groaned in undiluted misery. "Oh, come off it," Roxie laughed, and then she did something that Ava would never forget -- she slid her hand up Ava's thigh, all the way up under her skirt, and rapped her knuckles lightly on her cotton clad pussy, three times, like someone knocking on a door.

"Oh, god," Ava moaned thickly, "don't do that, it feels good, damnit!"

"I know," Roxie grinned, "and I'll bet this feels even better." Tugging Ava's panties a little to the side, Roxie slipped a finger right inside her ever-wet pussy.

Ten minutes later, their cigarettes lay smoldering in the ashtray while the two of them rolled around on the bed, fingering and licking and kissing each other like there was no tomorrow.

Both girls considered themselves to be straight, but the celibacy forced on them by school and their parents gave them no other choice. Every day after school, they'd head over to Roxie's house and fuck like wanton whores in lesbian porn, and then Ava would go home smelling like Roxie's tangy pussy and glowing like Rudolph's nose.

Needless to say, Ava had very few problems at school during her second semester.

Lately, though, once a day (okay, several orgasms per daily session) wasn't cutting the mustard for Ava. And today in the locker room, Roxie had called her out on her behavior.

"Fuck, Ava, you're going to get expelled if you aren't careful," the lofty blond said over her shoulder, wet hair plastered to her pale, satiny skin. "I can't help it," Ava whined, spending a lot longer than necessary to wash up her twitching cunt. The damn thing had a mind of its own -- when she was horny, her pussy just clenched and sucked and twitched, sending hot waves of torment straight through her. 

Roxie just looked at her knowingly and glanced down at the soapy hand wriggling between those smooth, thick thighs, and pressed her lips together, not saying another word until the last girl had toweled off and left the locker room.

"If you get expelled, who's going to take care of me?" Roxie hissed suddenly, snatching Ava's fingers out of her crotch. "You're a big girl, Roxie," Ava muttered irritably, trying to get her hand back where her body so desperately needed it. "Take care of yourself."

"God, you're an insatiable little whore, aren't you?" There was an admiring tone in Roxie's voice, though, completely belying the harshness of her words. Ava opened her mouth to fire a retort back, but just then Roxie let go of her wrist and grabbed both of her shoulders instead, shoving her out of the stream of water and against the tile wall. "I'll have to start taking care of you more often," Roxie murmured just before planting her lips right over Ava's, thrusting tongue into her hot, eager mouth, one hand delving between her legs and the other hungrily feasting on those soft, plump tits.

Ava's anger melted and she turned into a cat in heat, humping Roxie's hand, gasping and moaning into her mouth, sucking and chewing on her bottom lip and tweaking Roxie's hard, small nipples. The temperature in the locker room seemed to shoot up; at least, Ava felt feverishly hot. "Oh, fuck, Roxie! Mmmgod yes, right there," she gasped when her friend started rubbing her clit, and reciprocated by forcing two fingers inside Roxie's slick, blond cunt.

Unable to focus on kissing on top of all this, Roxie bent her shoulders down, buried her face in Ava's neck, and panted heavily against her throat, her own hips bucking to Ava's furious finger fuck. She never wavered in the attention she lavished on Ava's clit, though, and before long both girls where moaning and whimpering, gasping each time their engorged nipples brushed together, crying out as their moment of release drew closer and closer and...

Fucking A, Sister Martha, Ava thought deliriously, grinding away at her clit and burying her middle finger deep inside of her soaking sex, couldn't you have waited another ten fucking seconds? 

It didn't matter now, though. Ava was finally cumming, cumming all over her dad's recliner, the den redolent with the scent her arousal, her throat stretched around a cry as juicy as any cock she'd ever tasted.

* * *

Ava was conked out in his recliner when Rob got home, unknowingly closing the door much quieter than she had earlier. She was cute, if a little indecent, all sprawled out like that, one leg thrown over the arm of the recliner, her plaid skirt falling between her plump thighs, one knee high rucked down clear to the ankle.

They'd had their share of spats these past few years -- Mary Anne's death and Ava's intense rebellious streak were both equally difficult for him to deal with. But seeing Ava, her cheeks flushed with shadows on them from her impossibly long, dark lashes, her full lips twisted into a dreamy little pout, he couldn't help but remember her as she had been before; his little Spaghettio.

Mary Anne had always called her "my green-eyed pixie-child," and for a moment he just stood there, gazing down at her face, noting her thick, dark eyebrows that barely had any arch to them, giving her such a serious expression that belied her spunky attitude and impish personality. Her full cheeks curved down to a dainty little jaw and slightly pointed chin that shadowed her smooth, gracefully curved throat. Wisps of sable hair had finagled out of her braid and were draped over her short, broad forehead. Strange features when considered alone, but surreal and beautiful all together... and Mary Anne was right. She did have the look of a pixie to her.

It was easy now to remember the small, dark little toddler who would totter around the house chanting, "ut oh, suhwettio!"

Rob drew in a deep breath, unconsciously prepared to breathe it out in a heavy sigh, when a strange but altogether familiar scent pervaded his nostrils. It had been a long time since he'd come across that particular aroma, but it didn't take any time at all to place. 

Jesus..

Taking a few hasty steps back in retreat, Rob stared down at Ava, away from her peaceful face, past the round, ample chest filling out her button-up white blouse, down to her spread legs and haphazardly fallen skirt. 

Her panties, pale blue cotton, were peeking out from below the hem, rolled up like a rope. The implications staggered him. Masturbating? His daughter masturbated? In his chair??

His cock twitched, and he felt his face burn with bewilderment and shame. He wasn't really aroused at the sight of his daughter, was he? No, definitely not. She was beautiful, yes, even if he did despair occasionally at her weight (she had never been slim and delicate like her mother), but he was a good father, a good Christian. It had to be the smell that was doing this to him, the rich, musky smell of a woman's arousal. 

He glanced again at the crux of her thighs, the green and dark gray plaid that fell between them, and his cock positively lurched, springing into an instantly painful erection. Making matters worse, she stirred, her knee tilting more to the side, splaying her legs wider, making the skirt slide up more to fully expose the panties she had rolled down her thighs. Rob had to push his hand hard against the tent that had sprung suddenly in his pants, biting his lip to stifle a heavy groan. 

Looking lower, he could see just a hint of sheen on the dark gray upholstery between her legs. The scent he hadn't noticed when he walked in the door was so strong now that it was making him dizzy. Or maybe it was the blood rushing straight to his cock that was doing that.

It took a minute for him to realize that he was rubbing himself through his jeans, grinding his hand over his erection to relieve some of the pressure. Oh, Lord, what was he doing? Staring down at his teenage daughter, entertaining lustful thoughts about her soft, curvaceous body? No. No, of course not. He was... just appreciating the fact that she had blossomed into a woman, that's all. The shadowy sanctuary between her legs was driving him crazy. He had to see it, just once. It had been so long since he'd been this close to a woman's pussy, and it wasn't like he hadn't seen his daughter's before. She had been a little girl at the time, sure, but she didn't have to know about this particular peek, and besides, they were family. It didn't really count... right?

Either emboldened by his clever reasoning, or simply too overcome with desire to care, he carefully knelt down in front of her legs and reached out, slowly taking hold of the skirt's hem. It was a little coarse. A wool blend. The side of his hand touched a buttery soft thigh, and he was in textural heaven. She moaned a little in her sleep at the touch and, to his surprise, she spread her legs even wider, her hips rocking twice in languid succession before falling still again.

Refusing to think about what he was doing, Rob quietly unzipped his jeans and stuffed his hand down his pants, stroking his long, throbbing cock through his boxers. With his other hand, he carefully, carefully lifted her skirt, a centimeter at a time, unveiling first the tightly pressed cheeks of her generously proportioned ass, and then....

Rob could only grip his cock in anguish as he stared at the wet, glistening flesh between Ava's legs. Her innermost thighs, the crack of her ass, and her pussy lips were drenched in clear fluid, shimmering in the overhead light. The smell of her was intoxicating -- it wasn't tangy or overpowering, but mellow, secretive. Mysterious. Womanly. 

Her swollen lips were still slightly parted, enough so that he could see the tiny entrance to the sex that captivated him so. There was still some creamy white fluid leaking out of it, and Rob closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, all the while breathing heavily through his nose. He was drowning himself in her scent, burning the memory into his eyelids, struggling both against temptation and his resistance to it.

Just one taste... after all, it didn't really count, did it?

Rob was on auto-pilot at this point. The voice (the good, Christian voice) in his head that was screaming at him to stop, stop, damnit, this is your daughter!, was locked away as he gently pushed her skirt back all the way, laying it over her tummy, exposing her completely to him. Her little clit was still hard, and he breathed out softly when he saw it twitch a little, as though beckoning him to latch on, suck and tongue it for all it was worth. 

Above her clit curled soft, feathery tendrils of sable fur. It was trimmed, neat but not unnatural. He liked it, but it wasn't enough to hold his attention.

When he had talked himself into going this far, his mind's eye had shown him a vision of himself gently brushing a finger up her slit, collecting some of that creamy liquid, and licking it off. But now that he was this close, this fucking close, and he could see her pussy contracting softly in her sleep.....

He leaned forward, so close that his nose was almost touching her sensitive little nub, and inhaled sharply. He was dimly aware that his cock was out of his boxers now, and that he was pumping it for all it was worth, but even that sensation felt far away. Ava was murmuring in her sleep now, mumbling something like, "Rock, seeeeee....." but Rob was hardly paying attention. 

Slowly, slowly, he dipped his head down and opened his mouth, letting the tip of his tongue snake out and lap up the cum that was dripping down from her juicy snatch. She moaned heavily and he froze, panic flaring through him -- but she wasn't awake, just dreaming. His tongue was still poised at the cleft of her cheeks, and he began to move up, lapping his way to the source of all that ambrosial fluid.


Ava's Immoral Soul Ch. 01



The taste of her... exquisite! A little salty, vaguely sweet, heavenly. Just like she smelled, mysterious and womanly. He was really getting worked up now, and he hadn't even reached that sweet, dripping little hole yet. And then... oh, God. Just as his tongue finally found the source of all that cream, she murmured, "Mm, Roxie-" (a name, Rob thought dumbly, a girl's name!!), "right there.." and sleepily thrust her hips up, tipping her hot cunt right into his mouth.

Rob couldn't take it anymore. Pistoning his fist on his raging cock, he started licking up and down her swollen slit, the tip of his tongue flicking her clit on each upstroke, and plunging inside of her every time he reached her opening. Ava was responding sluggishly, still asleep and in her mind, probably being eaten alive by some girl named Roxie. 

The friction caused by his rough hand was starting to chafe rigid flesh. Without even really thinking about it, he found himself letting go of his aching cock to swipe some of the generous fluid from between Ava's legs. Man, that's just wrong, a tiny voice protested as he wrapped his now-slick hand back around himself, slathering his cock with her fragrant juices. 

He wanted to latch his mouth on her clit, pin it down with his tongue and suck on it at the same time. He wanted to make her cum and slurp every last drop out of her hot, soaking pussy. But the slick feel of her juices on his cock, added to everything else and multiplied by how long it'd been since he'd been with a woman like this, conspired towards a different chain of events. 

Falling back on his ass, Rob could only stare at his sleeping Ava, his little pixie-child, all grown up now and just fucking oozing all over his recliner as he desperately jerked himself off. He couldn't bring himself to look at her face, so he just watched the tight little pussy spasm and clench, squeezing out drops of fluid that dripped down the crack of her ass and pooled beneath her on his chair. 

Rob imagined slamming his swollen cock right into that creamy cunt and finally his balls tightened, pure lust driving him as he ground his teeth, his mind whirling with images of fucking, fucking her until she bled, screamed, begged for him to stop, and then fucking her some more. His cock, already painfully tight, became even harder -- and then he came. Ropes of it that he tried to catch in his fist, still stroking the head, each spurt of hot seed intensifying his need to be inside of her until...

Reality set in. He was propped up on one elbow on his living room floor, clutching a rapidly shrinking erection and a fistful of cum. Ava was still asleep in his chair, saturated with her own fluids and his slobber. "Oh, Jesus," Rob whispered brokenly, wiping his hand on his jeans and shamefully stuffing his spent cock back in his pants. 

What had he done? Oh, God, what had he done?

Shaking from head to toe, he carefully got to his feet and with a trembling hand, he brought her skirt back down where it belonged. It was then he noticed the envelope held loosely in her hand, her thumb covering it so that it read, "Mr. ----ley"

His head still spinning, he eased the letter from her grip and stumbled off into his bedroom. For a long time, he just sat on the edge of his bed, reading it over and over again, his active imagination battling with his Christian morals as he tried not to think about Ava in the shower with this other student.

Rob surmised that her name was Roxie. He put the letter aside and stared unseeingly at the wall, unconsciously rubbing a fresh hard-on through his soiled jeans. 

Mr. Creeley was right -- something would have to be done to save Ava's immortal soul. And as far as Rob could see, there was only one way to make sure such a thing never happened again.

Ava would have to be punished.



Ava's Immoral Soul Ch. 02



"Ava..."

"Mmph."

"Ava, wake up."

"M'dog ate it."

"Ava, we don't have a dog."

"Dad? Ugh. Can't go t'school. Diphtheria."

"AVA!"

"What?!"

Sitting upright, Ava peered up with bleary eyed surprise at her dad, her sleep-muddled brain lending her face a pointedly blank expression until she saw the letter clutched tightly in his fist. Huston, we have a problem, her mind quipped randomly as her gaze darted swiftly from the letter to the telltale vein on his forehead. Yep. It was throbbing. 

Five, four, three, two...

"We need to talk, young lady. Go upstairs and take a shower, and then march your butt right back down here." Aside from that terrible twitch on her dad's brow, his face was completely devoid of any emotion. That wasn't a good sign. 

"Okay, daddy," she squeaked, sounding more like a four year old than the wise, wordly woman of eighteen years that she was. There was a brief moment of panic when she remembered that her panties were rolled down and that she was sitting in a puddle of her own fluids, and there was no way she could discreetly fix either with him towering over her. Just as her face lost all of its color save for two high points of crimson, he turned his back on her and stalked off to the kitchen.

She heard the scrape of chair legs on linoleum, the soft sigh of a plastic cushion as it depressed beneath his weight. Breathing a sigh of her own in relief, she quickly got off the chair and promptly fell on her ass again. Her leg had fallen asleep. "D'oh!" 

Clenching her teeth against the pins and needles, she briskly rubbed her leg down until the sensation passed, then tried this whole standing ordeal again. Much better results the second time. Tugging her panties back up where they belonged, she glanced down at the soaking patch of upholstery and sighed. She'd just have to hope her dad didn't notice -- she couldn't very well go in the kitchen right now and get a damp rag to wash it off with him waiting in there.

Feeling as though her feet were weighted down with lead, Ava trudged up the stairs and into the bathroom, her mind working at twenty clicks per second for a way out of this mess.

* * *

When Ava came back downstairs, smelling crisp and clean in a pair of forest green sweats and a light grey tee that read "Fright Attendant" on the back, her dad was still lurking at the kitchen table, drumming his hand impatiently on the polished surface.  

Her soaking wet hair was hanging over one shoulder, nearly reaching her navel as she toweled it off, nervously plunking her butt down in the chair opposite from him. There was an uncomfortably long moment when they both regarded each other, Ava looking like a puppy caught in the act of piddling on the Persian rug and Rob looking like he wanted to do more than just take a rolled up newspaper to her. 

Unable to bear the silence any more, Ava cleared her throat -- just a light, feminine little ahem - and pressed the towel against the drape of her hair. "Dad, I... I know you're really mad," she began slowly, watching his face closely for any reaction that might prompt her in the right direction. Aside from lifting a brow in a mocking gesture, he didn't give her anything to go on.

This is worst than I thought, she realized with a growing pit of dread in her gut.

"Dad?"

He just continued to stare at her, that brow quirking up again on an otherwise blank face. She felt her face heat with a flush of anger -- he was just going to let her sit there and flounder, not saying anything even though he knew that she knew how angry he was? She'd rather him scream and throw stuff around than just sit there, looking all impassive.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I really am. I know... I know that doesn't cut it, but I'll make it up to you. I won't get in any more trouble at school. I'll bring my grades up, I'll stop-"

"You may not even be going back to school, Ava," her father pointed out coolly, his voice giving away about as much as his expression. Ava bit her bottom lip and looked at him imploringly. "Please, dad. I truly am sorry."

"How long, Ava?"

For a moment, she just looked at him blankly. "Not following."

"How long have you been a lesbian?"

Ava couldn't help it; after getting over her shock at his blunt question, she started to laugh. He cut her down with a scathing look, and she quickly pressed a hand over her mouth, her laughter dying to a giggle that just sort of puttered out. She cleared her throat and hesitantly started lowering her hand, keeping it close to her mouth in case she gave in to the tickling laughter that still lurked in the low of her throat.

"Well," she began slowly, dragging the syllable out a little longer than necessary, "I'm not a lesbian, Dad."

"Reeaally," he drawled, leaning back in his chair with disbelief etched all over his face.

"Yes, really, Dad. Ro- that girl and I, well, we were just fooling around. It really didn't mean anything..."

"Is that what you're going to tell St. Peter at the gates of Heaven, Ava? Is it? Is that what you're going to tell the Lord Almighty when you're prostrate at the feet of his throne, begging for mercy? That you were just fooling around? That it didn't really mean anything?!"

Oh, Lord, Ava thought numbly, here we go. Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, she carefully folded her damp towel and laid it across one thigh, hooking a loose tendril behind her ear and shoving the rest of the heavy mass over her shoulder. When her dad got into the religious angle, she had to be very, very careful.

"I'll go to confession," she said softly, not looking him in the eye.

"Do you think you can just Hail Mary your way out of this one?" There was such bitterness in his voice that Ava flinched, looking up at him. There was this strange ripple that crossed his face, like he was trying to make several different expressions at once, none of them pleasant. For a moment, she was so baffled that all she could do was stare at him, wondering, what demons are you hiding, Daddy?

But by then, he was looking at her so coolly, so neutrally that she could only assume she'd imagined the shadow that had darkened his features.

"Dad, please, just trust me on this. I'm not a lesbian. I know that's hard for you to believe, considering... well, just considering. But it's true. What happened today at school was just a... a one time thing," she said as earnestly as she could, even though her fingers and toes were crossed so tight she thought they might lose circulation. "I'm really sorry I disappointed you," she added softly, and this time she wasn't lying through her teeth.

He looked at her and finally his expression softened, even if just a little. "I am disappointed in you, Ava," he sighed. "Look, I know it's hard on you, losing your mother like that. It's hard on me, too-"

"I know, dad."

"If you know how hard it is on me, then why do you insist on acting like this? Ever since your mom passed away, I've been working my ass off to support you, and for what? For nothing!

"No, you had to get yourself kicked out of public school. Do you realize how much your tuition at St. Magdalene's is costing me? And now you might even be expelled from St. Mag's! 

"Ava, I'm running out of options here. I've tried everything, and so far, nothing has worked. You're backing me into a corner here, honey, and it needs to stop. It's going to stop."

"Dad..." Ava whispered, tears stinging at her eyes from the hot lump that had gathered painfully in her throat. "Dad, please. I'm sorry! How many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Damnit, Ava, sorry doesn't cut it anymore! How many times am I supposed to forgive you just because you say you're sorry?" He sputtered for a moment, as though he was so disgusted with her that he had to spit the words out. "And then you just turn around and do something else! I'm sick of it, Ava!"

Hanging her head, she stared numbly down at her hands, clenched so tightly in her lap that her interlocked knuckles were splotchy with red and white. Her vision blurred, making the splotches tremble and waver, and it was with a choked little voice that she finally asked him, "What are you going to do, then?"

She heard him breathe out a heavy sigh. "What I should have started doing three years ago, Ava."

Something in his voice made her look up quickly, her stomach clenching around a fresh surge of dread, although this time there was a pervasive note of fear. "Dad?" she inquired hesitantly, not liking the way his gray-green eyes were focused somewhere beyond her shoulder, or the muscle in his tightly set jaw that twitched a counter-rhythm to the throbbing vein on his forehead.

Her dad was sitting right in front of her, familiar as could be with his graying brown hair and crooked nose, but it was a stranger staring past her in those vacant, far away eyes. 

"Dad?" she asked again, tentatively, pressingly. He turned his eyes to her own, and Ava felt a distinct chill shiver up and down her spine at the contact.

"Wait for me in the living room," was all he said before abruptly sliding his chair back, the resounding scrape loud in her ears, and got to his feet, leaving the kitchen quietly.

The silence that hung over the kitchen in his wake was almost tangible, pregnant with ominous undertones. For a long moment, Ava could only sit immobile, shocked and more than just a little concerned for her own hide. 

"Shit," she uttered softly, staring at the empty doorway that he had only recently passed through. She had never in all her years seen him react to something quite like this. Even in the height of his anger, he had never actually raised his voice -- he had seemed almost wooden in his anger. 

She was in a bigger mess than she had imagined when she got caught in the first place.

Plucking the towel off her lap, she slapped it onto the table and got to her feet as well, following the path he had taken out of the kitchen but heading to the living room instead. She sat down on the couch and glanced at the grandfather clock. Seven thirty.

The plate of cookies and a half finished soda still sat on the end table near his recliner. The shiny spot on the upholstery was still there, too. Ava almost got up to go back to the kitchen, intent on getting a rag and cleaning it up, but she hesitated. She didn't want to explain to her dad what she was doing if he caught her in any step of the act. 

So instead of going anywhere, she just waited as patiently as she could, toying with the hem of her over-sized tee, trying not to think about what her dad was planning on doing but naturally finding herself unable to think of anything else.

When she looked at the clock again, it was seven forty-five. What was he doing up there? Even with her nerves singing a sharp, jangling tune, she couldn't help but feel irritated at him. What the hell was his problem? Sure, she had screwed up, but seriously, he should be used to it by now. Granted, being caught in the shower with another girl was bad, but it couldn't be worst than the time she dubbed her socially inept history teacher a botched sex-change victim in front of the entire class and then, to a chorus of shocked laughter, yanked on Mrs. Tabor's badly styled hair to see if it was a wig.

In retrospect, she should have known that no one would have bought a wig that hideous.

That little incident had been the final straw that got her booted out of public school. Ava still couldn't help but grin stupidly whenever she thought about it.

"Stop smirking and stand up," a soft voice said from beside her, and Ava jumped off the couch, more out of surprise than obedience. Whirling around with her heart pounding at the base of her throat, she clamped a hand to her chest and stared at her father. 

"I.. I wasn't smirking, Da-"

"That's enough, Ava," he interjected dispassionately, "Go stand in front of the recliner." His eyes were focused again somewhere behind her. Ava swallowed thickly, murmuring a weak little sound of consent, and backed up until she felt the recliner's cushion bumping against her legs. 

"Open it," he instructed, still speaking in that cold, unfeeling tone.

Confused, Ava turned around and leaned over the chair, cranking the lever until the leg rest unfolded and the back angled down. Straightening up to face him again, she huffed at her wet hair, sweeping away the strands that had fallen in her face.

"Turn around and get on your knees," he said quietly, and when Ava didn't move, he finally looked right at her. "Now." Her heart was doing a jittery two-step in her chest, but she did as she was told, facing the extended recliner and sinking into a kneel in front of it.

"Put your hands on the armrests and lay over the cushion," he commanded, sounding more like a robot than her father. Panic clawing at her insides now, she looked over her shoulder at him, green eyes wide with disbelief.

"Don't make me tell you again, Ava," he warned in a silky whisper, his expression unreadable. 

Ava did as she was told, stretching her belly over the leg rest, her hands gripping the arms of the chair. It put her face right in the musky wet spot, and even though she had figured out by now that he was going to physically punish her, she couldn't stop herself from breathing in deeply, instantly aroused.

This is not the time, Ava thought a little wildly, fear overriding any sense of indignation she felt at the prospect of getting a spanking at her age. She strained to hear the slightest movement from him, to feel the vibration of his first step on the floor, but there was nothing. The clock ticked on resolutely, growing to a deafening pitch in the otherwise silent room.

Did he realize he was making it worse? Was he doing it on purpose? The wait was making her manageable fear rapidly escalate to terror. Ten ticks of the clock, then twenty. Still, nothing. Just the sound of his and her breathing, barely audible over that damnable ticking, his measured and controlled, hers irregular, panicky. 

Ava felt tears start welling up in her eyes after thirty seconds. Still, he didn't come. He didn't even make a movement that she could hear or be aware of from her position. The tip of her nose was touching the wet spot. The smell was starting to overwhelm her. She didn't want to be turned on right now, but the growing thrill of trepidation was only seeming to intensify her arousal. She could feel wetness gathering between her thighs, knew that she was starting to drip. 

Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five... tick, tock, tick, tock. Ava was crying now, her tears joining the musky stain on the recliner.

It wasn't until a full minute passed that she heard the unmistakable creak and jangle of a belt coming unbuckled. Oh, no, Ava thought, her body stiffening, he can't be serious! It was a scare tactic, she convinced herself. It had to be. He was just trying to freak her out, scare her into compliance.

Well, it worked. She was scared -- he didn't have to try anymore. "Daddy," she croaked tearfully, "Daddy, ple-"

"If you want to make this harder on yourself, then by all means, keep talking." 

He was coming closer to her now, ignoring her muffled sobs, sliding the belt through the succession of loops with a resounding hiss of leather glossing over denim. Her shoulders shook, the wet spot on the cushion growing larger by the second with her tears, and her fingers clutched the armrests in a white knuckled grip.

"Are you wearing panties, Ava?" The question surprised her, but even more shocking was the quality of his voice when he asked her, borderlining on intimacy. He said it in that same silky whisper he'd used earlier.

"Yes," she finally managed to choke out in response. He was standing right behind her; his shadow had fallen over her. Her skin was prickling all over with goosebumps, every moment heavier than the last in anticipation for the first, awful strike.

The first contact he made with her made her cry out like she'd been flayed alive, the reaction so instantaneous that it was already out before she realized it wasn't the biting sting of leather; just the firm pressure of his palm on her lower back. Ashamed that she'd yelped for nothing, she buried her face in the damp cushion, muffling her sobs.

His hand lingered there for several seconds, the clock ticking each one in a steady monotone. All of this delay was making her crumble, one wall at a time, until she felt weak and miserable, as small and inconsequential as an ant under his implacable gaze.

Finally, his hand moved a little, sliding down, a thumb hooking snugly into the waistband of her sweats. "Dad, please!" He either didn't hear her pathetic little whimper, or chose to ignore it, because after a scant moment's hesitation he yanked the pants down to her upper thighs, right where they met the ample curve of her bottom. The house wasn't cold, but the air on her skin still came to her as a shock.

At least she had panties on. Gray cotton boyshorts the same color as her shirt, the hem of which he slid up her back, fully exposing her rump to him. Ava was trembling, clutching at the armrests as though for support, her head turned just enough to the side so she could breathe through her sobs.

"Forgive me, Ava," her father croaked, and just like that she knew, simply knew that he wasn't talking about what he had just done; it was a precursor to what he was about to do. Then she heard the whoosh of leather streaking through the air, felt her suddenly distant body tense in apprehension, and heard herself scream when the leather bit into her backside. Despite her fear, she had fully expected him to either back out at the last minute, or at least take it easy on her, but that... that had to have been full force! Ava sucked in a breath so hard that it made her lungs ache, and then she released it in a keening wail. Fresh wracking sobs tore through her, her nerve endings singing a trilling tune as high and grating as a banshee's. 

"Relax your muscles, Ava," her father said almost tenderly, although his voice was still eerily void of true compassion. 

"Daddy, no... please, not again!"

He didn't respond. Despite his warning, her body went rigid when she heard the whistle of the belt coming down a second time, and the pain felt like a shockwave, jolting from her sensitive rear straight to the tips of her toes and her eyeballs. Ava yelped like a beaten dog and started scrambling up the chair in blind pain and panic, trying to escape him and that awful belt. This was going wrong, all wrong, it hurt too much, she was going to die if he did that again, just die--

His hand clenched in her shirt and he jerked her back so hard that the fabric dug into her throat, choking her for one terrifying moment. Then his grip relaxed, and she felt his body pressing over hers, his breath hot on the shell of her ear.

"Resisting will only make it worse, Ava. Just be still and accept your punishment," he whispered in her ear, his voice reminding her of that far off look in his eyes, and she cried harder, burying her face in the cushion, feeling her heart pound back at her and hearing the blood rush in her ears.

Before he straightened, standing over her again, she could have sworn for one disorienting second that she felt the brush of a denim-covered erection against the jut of her hip. Her mind was reeling, trying to reconstruct the fleeting impression, to determine if she had imagined it or not, when the leather struck down again.

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much this time because she hadn't tensed up in expectation, but it still drug another howling wail from her chest. "Daddeeeeee!!" 

"Would you prefer my hand, Ava?"

The question didn't make sense to her at first; all she could think about was the pain. Her nerve endings were on fire; she was sure her ass would be black and blue tomorrow. She finally managed to gather a steady enough breath to speak with and hesitantly said, "What?"




Ava's Immoral Soul Ch. 02



"My hand, Ava. Would you prefer my hand over the belt?"

She almost told him she would prefer him to stop, but she was more than just a little afraid of him right now. All of the sneering bravado she felt when she and Roxie were busily scorning authority was gone, almost as though he had beaten them out of her. She didn't know if his hand would fall any softer than the belt, but she did know one thing for certain: her ass would never forgive her if she let him hit her with that damn thing again.

"Y-yeah," she finally mumbled, her voice half muffled in the cushion. 

"What," he snapped curtly, dragging the belt over her stinging backside to make his meaning clear.

"Yes, sir," she corrected herself, and then begged haltingly past hot lumps in her throat and hitching little sobs. "Please, don't use the belt again, Daddy. It hurts."

"Get to your feet, Ava," he said softly, the belt falling to the floor with a duo of metallic clangs. Wiping her sniffling nose with the back of her hand, Ava shakily pressed herself up and got to her feet, her legs weak and rubbery beneath her. Her father seemed to understand, and he placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

Her sweatpants had slid down nearly to her knees, but when she reached down to pull them up, his other hand halted her progress. "Leave them where they are," he commanded quietly, and after putting both hands on her biceps, he turned them so his legs were bumping the recliner. 

Before he sat down, he gingerly brushed the tears away from her wet cheeks. She realized that she must look like a mess, all puffy and red from sobbing. "Pull your hair over your shoulder," he instructed calmly once he had settled himself in the chair, ignoring the wet spot. When she did as she was told, the sable locks still damp from her shower, he patted his thigh. "Lay across my legs."

His voice was deeper. Gravelly. Ava didn't even dare to look at his face; she didn't want to see that strange, distant look in his eyes. She wanted him to hug her and tell her it was alright, that she was forgiven, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. 

They had both gone too far this time.

When she stretched out over his legs, her large breasts uncomfortably mashed on the cushion near his thigh, her pretty neck on the armrest, she felt him shift his weight beneath her. And this time, there was no mistaking it -- her dad was rock hard, and his erection was pushing right into her soft belly. Oh my God, Ava thought dumbly. It only served to remind her that she was still soaking wet from having her nose rubbed in it. Well well well, aren't we just the pair?

As gross and unnatural as it seemed to have her father's tented jeans pressing up against her, it was also making her flush with warm, pleasant swirls in the low of her stomach. For some reason, she thought of headmaster Creeley, and how many times she had wished he would pull her over his lap like this. He was old, sure, and unattractively so at that, but still. A cock is a cock is a cock when you aren't getting any. 

She wondered if that was why it felt so... well, hot, knowing that her dad was getting off on this. It was sick, but she couldn't ignore the fact that she was getting aroused all over again just thinking about it. Let alone feeling it.

His hand brushed the shirt up over her back, getting the fabric out of his way. She heard him draw in a shaky breath when his hand slid down over her bare skin, following the little dips and bumps of her spine. She shifted a little uncomfortably and only elicited a heavy sigh from him, her minuscule movement making her stomach rub his growing erection.

Ava nearly jumped when she felt his fingers easing beneath the band of her boyshorts. "Daddy?" He didn't respond, but he didn't move any further than that, either. Once again, it grew so quiet in the room that there was just the sound of their breathing and the ticking of that insufferable clock. This time, though, the air around them might as well have been crackling with barely restrained sexual energy; as the seconds ticked on, Ava found herself holding her breath, dizzy with her mind's juggling act between fear, dread and arousal.

It seemed like forever, but it was only another ten seconds before anything else happened. Like a man committed to an unpleasant course of action, all hesitancy was gone from his movements. He peeled her boyshorts down past the delectable curve of her smarting, red-striped ass and firmly settled his palm on her screaming skin.

For Ava, it seemed like all the time in the world had suddenly come to a screeching halt. Even the ticking of the clock failed to reach her ears through the deafening rush of her heartbeat. Her dad was moving his hand, trailing his fingertips along the triad of angry red welts, stroking each one with the tender familiarity of a sculptor beholding a favored masterpiece. 

The stark contrast in sensations was making her insides clench and twist with an unslaked itch. He cupped one juicy, round cheek in his palm; gave it a tender squeeze before drifting over the deep cleft to grope the other cheek. Here he was, fondling and rubbing his own daughter's ass, and she couldn't even find her voice to protest. 

Her lungs were burning; it took several seconds for her to realize it was because she was holding her breath. Releasing it in a great whoosh, she sucked in fresh air and gasped, "Dad, please..."

"Please what, Ava?" His words were so soft that she could barely hear him, even though he was leaning right over her. He was brushing his palm over the prominent swells of her rump, gliding from tailbone to thigh only to stroke up again slowly. Ava felt strangely lulled by the steady, unhurried caress of his calloused palm. It made it hard to think straight. 

She was uncomfortable as all hell with her dad's erection digging into the soft flesh of her belly, his hand languidly stroking her bottom, but... but what? God, it feels good, she realized with a little groan. She was starting to have very, very impure thoughts about her father right now, and she was equally aroused and disgusted by them.

"Daddy?" 

His hand was meandering over her welted skin, following that tempting curve again to where it met her thighs, and there it stopped, his long fingers splaying tentatively over the back of her legs, the heel of his hand pressing dangerously low on her bottom.

"Dad..." Ava whimpered, shifting nervously. It was his turn to groan as he impulsively bucked his hips up a little, thrusting his tented jeans into her stomach. He didn't do it with any real force, but she still felt like it knocked the wind out of her. All she could do was lay there, dumbfounded, mouth agape, as he gingerly starting rocking his hips, grinding his erection into her belly as he tenderly rubbed the warm, supple flesh at his fingertips, getting closer and closer to the crux with each swirling touch.

She felt a searing jolt of shock when he worked a finger between her thighs, purposefully curling it over her hot, slick, velvety folds. 

Startled, they both went rigid; neither daring to breathe as if even the slightest movement would attract God's eye to them, and the living room floor would erupt into a yawning chasm bent on sucking them straight to hell. So they just stayed there, his finger cupping her wet pussy, his hard-on pressing into her soft stomach, their faces arranged in mirrored expressions of shock.

It was Ava who finally broke the silence several seconds later with a soft, choked little sob. "Daddy... dad, please!"

"Oh, Spaghettio, my little Spaghettio..." he said in a constricted voice, jerking his hand back as though he'd touched a hot plate. He immediately scooped her up in his arms, crushing her against his chest and burying his face in her wet hair. He was shaking like a leaf ravaged by the wind; she could feel his hot tears on her scalp, heard the guilt-ridden anguish in his fierce weeping.

"Dad, Dad, it's okay," she found herself floundering to soothe him, hugging him back tightly, stroking the coarse, peppered hair at the back of his head in a frantic effort to calm him. 

"I'm so, so sorry, Ava," he wept harshly near her ear, clutching her to him as though she were the only thing keeping his soul from being snatched right out of his body.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm okay," she insisted tearfully, although she wasn't -- not at all. Her mind was reeling in confusion and her body was shrieking for release. She had a fleeting desire to yank his pants down and ride him for all he was worth, milking every last drop of cum out of his cock... but he was her father, damnit! Her face burned with shame and repressed lust, but even those were forgotten when he buried his face even tighter in her shoulder, muffling a tormented howl of soul wrenching agony. She felt the force of it vibrate through their chests.

"Shhhh," Ava found herself whispering, just holding him close and biting back her own tears with a vehemence previously unknown to her. "I understand, Daddy," she murmured against his head, closing her eyes tightly. "Just get it all out."

Someone had to.



Ava's Immoral Soul Ch. 03



"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"Have you even been listening to me?"

"Of course I have."

Rob glanced uncomfortably at his daughter, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with arms folded beneath her rather lewdly displayed chest. She was looking sinfully curvy in a sapphire scoop necked top and a snug pair of jeans, with a distractingly shiny silver looped belt slung low on her broad hips. She was also looking severely unimpressed, leveling him with a highly dubious expression.

"And...?"

"Of course. Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want," he said, just as quickly tearing his eyes away from her. It had been weeks since the incident in the living room, and aside from his inability to look even in her general direction for more than two seconds at a time, things were starting to get back to normal. His meeting with the headmaster, at least, had ended well. Mr. Creeley had been reluctant to show more leniency to Ava at first, but eventually folded after two hours of begging. Yes, he had begged the headmaster to let his daughter stay in that school. No other school would even enroll Ava; if St. Magdalene's wouldn't keep her, the only alternative was home school.

While direct eye contact was unthinkiable, or difficult at the least, the thought of spending hours with her each day, knees nearly touching under the kitchen table, their heads bent close over a book, was utterly preposterous. In the end, the only way the school would allow Ava to remain enrolled was to strictly forbid her from any contact with the other pupil, Roxanne Stefanson. The girls had three classes together, so Ava's class schedule had been changed to meet that requirement. They were not allowed to socialize during free periods or in the hallway; the parents were expected to make sure the girls did not associate outside of school.

Rob had been all too happy to bow to the stipulations. Because he was worried she might say she was going to one friend's house and hang out with Roxanne instead, she was grounded to the house until she graduated. It was a brilliant idea, really. What he hadn't thought through was that this meant Ava was spending a lot more time at home with him. All of her spare time. And Jesus, was it an awkward arrangement. Even now, she was making him uncomfortable, and all she was doing was looking at him. Looking and smirking, her perfectly shaped mouth twisted with wry amusement. "What?"

"Whatever I want? Seriously, Dad, I just spent five minutes telling you about my day, and then I asked what the heck that poor potato ever did to you."

"Huh..? Oh."

"Yeah, 'Oh,'" she mocked, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever. Am I still under house arrest?"

"Dressed like that? Damn right you are."

For a second, Rob thought she was going to hiss at him. Instead, she gave him one long, mutinous look and stalked out of the kitchen, muttering under her breath. Chagrined that he had been caught not paying attention and flustered with her attitude, Rob put down his paring knife (as well as the potato he had been whittling into oblivion) and wiped off his hands, tugging open the fridge.

"Dinner's off, Ava. Call in a pizza, and then take that attitude straight to your room!"

"Fine!"

Gripping the handle on the fridge door tightly, Rob stared into the contents of it's frigid belly as he listened to his daughter storm into the office to do as told. There was a half finished case of Coors on the bottom shelf. He pulled out two and sat heavily at the kitchen table, gulping the first hurriedly even though the biting cold assaulted his throat.

Crumpling the can in a futile display of his frustration, he tossed the can towards the trash can (grumbling when he missed), and then folded his arms on the table, resting his forehead in the space between.

He had never been much of a drinker. In college, when most of his friends and dorm-mates were doing beer bongs and keg stands, he was attending lectures from guest speakers and whipping up new recipes to try on his future wife. Throughout a marriage as riddled as anyone else's with fiery spats and stupid, illogical fights, and all through the long, heart breaking months that lead up to Mary Anne's death (or even in the three years that followed), Rob had never turned to the bottle.

No, it apparently took one afternoon between his sleeping daughter's legs and a punishment gone horribly wrong to do that.

The problem was, he couldn't stop thinking about it. About her. Not as his daughter, but as a woman. A woman he lusted after, a woman who was invariably out of his reach. At work, he found himself daydreaming about her, the way she tasted, the musky, earthy scent of her, the way her glistening pussy contracted before his very eyes. Of those wicked red stripes that screamed out at him from the smoothly flaring curve of her ass.

No matter how hard he tried, when he looked at her now, he didn't see his daughter. He saw the rawly sensuous creature that she was beneath the mask of youth and relation; he saw a mouthy, willful beast that needed to have some sense savagely fucked into her. And for the life of him, he couldn't tell which was the reason that kept him up at night; that he wanted her so badly it made his teeth hurt, or that he couldn't in good conscience give her the god-awful fucking she so rightly deserved.

Rob had a feeling he would go crazy ten times over before he ever came to terms with it.

Giving in to the increasingly familiar state of annoyance, disgust and lust that was constantly trying to settle over him, he pulled himself upright in the chair and cracked open his second beer, nearly spilling it on himself when Ava burst into the kitchen, a flurry of movement and dark hair.

"I called in the damn pizza," she snarled, her wide set green eyes overly bright in the harsh fluorescent. "And I'm going to my room now, massah." Pivoting on the ball of her foot, she took two steps towards the door and then spun around again, one hand grabbing the frame for balance. "Oh, and just so you know, there is nothing wrong with the way I'm dressed!"

Rob could only stare after her, irritated, amused, and more than just a little baffled at her sudden outburst and immediate departure. He wasn't entirely surprised to hear her distant sobs as she flung herself up the stairs, even found himself counting the seconds until he heard her door slam shut in petulant rage.

"What the hell..?"

Grunting, he slouched his shoulders forward and swilled deep from the can, picking at a dried speck of food on the table with a broad, flat thumbnail. "Of course there's nothing wrong with the way you're dressed," he muttered in belated response to her outburst, before belching into the back of his hand. "All the sluts are dressing like that these days."

* * *

"Aaagh!" 

Making a strangled sound in her throat that was a cross between a grunt and a heavily censored scream, Ava slammed her bedroom door and just stood there for a moment, her chest and shoulders heaving with each gasp that fueled her furious sobs. 

Her dad was a complete and utter warden! And he was ruining her life!

Sucking in a great hitch of air, she wiped at her streaming eyes and then began yanking off her clothes, throwing them on the bed. She'd been playing the good girl lately, showing up for all of her classes, composing herself demurely around the Sisters and even turning in her assignments. She'd even managed to bring up some of her D's to C's. Her dad was a complete pushover -- and aside from that, he'd seemed even weaker since the ... thing ... that happened in the living room. She'd been absolutely certain that he'd lift the ban on her freedom and let her out for a little while tonight.

For God's sake, she was eighteen years old. She wasn't some brat in ruffled socks and pigtails anymore! 

Still crying bitterly, she tugged on a pair of plaid lounge pants and a sleep shirt, allowing herself to think to the real reason she was so upset. 

Ava hadn't had any real sexual gratification since her spectacular solo performance the night her dad... yeah. When he'd finally stopped sobbing on her shoulder, clutching her like she had life support written all over her, he'd taken her to her room and tucked her in, then just kind of stood there dejectedly, looking seven shades of lost and broken. 

Ava had barely been able to keep her itching fingers out of her soaking pussy long enough for him to stammer a bewildered apology and bid her goodnight. The moment the door closed behind him, she dove headlong into an aria of unrequited passion, shoving her guilt and disgust behind the curtain as she skillfully brought herself to peak again and again. Unfortunately, each subsequent crescendo of lust was more dissonant than the last, until she found herself curled into a tight little ball, sobbing her heart out in a brace of pillows.

Physically, emotionally, mentally... it was all just too much for her. Her body was all too happy to sing its tune of need and desire, but she couldn't wrap her mind around that song being played for her own father.

And ever since that night, every time she dipped a probing finger between her legs, her guilty mind started with a flash of memory; the savage bite of leather contrasted by the unhurried caress of his hand. The force of his heaving sobs as he clung to her for comfort and forgiveness.

Her mood swings and violent unpredictability were worse than she had ever before experienced, and she held him entirely at fault. 

Making matters worse, she wasn't even allowed to speak with Roxie anymore. When the two of them passed each other in the hallway, they were painfully aware of the ever watchful eyes of the Sisters or the headmaster on them. All they could do was lift their eyebrows at each other and move their shoulders in tiny shrugs -- a "what can you do?" gesture of defeat.

Ava didn't just miss the sex -- although it was definitely one of the biggest perks of the friendship -- she was starting to realize just how much Roxie meant to her as a friend and confidant. Her dry, warped sense of humor, her husky yet soothing voice; the way she rolled her eyes skywards and expelled Ava's name despairingly along with a cloud of smoke. The sex had even brought them closer, in a way, than any other friendship Ava had ever had. When someone knew your body as intimately as they knew each others, it was easier to purge the junk that cluttered the soul.

Ava missed her friend something fierce. And today, when she stopped by her locker to swap books for third period, she found a note that someone had slipped through the vent slats in the door.

Ave

My 'rents are on a second honeymoon in Paris. I'm having a little soirée at my place.

I miss ya, McBitchy. Think you can make it?

Your Partner in (near) Expulsion, R.

That little note had put her on cloud nine for the rest of the day at school. When she passed Roxie in the hall on her way to history, her friend lifted a brow in silent question, and Ava hadn't been able to stop the giddy grin from forming on her face. "I'll try," she mouthed just before feigning a dainty cough, hiding the grin behind her hand. It was the first time she'd really felt happy since getting caught in the locker room.

It didn't matter, though. As much as Ava wanted to, there was no way she could go. Throwing herself on top of her discarded clothes on the bed, she dissolved into fresh tears, their hot, salty sting serving as a cruel reminder of that truth.

And, as far as her lack of gratification went, Ava was seriously beginning to wonder if a total lack of sexual release could kill a person.

It certainly felt like a big part of her was dying.

* * *

Forty minutes later, he was standing awkwardly outside her bedroom door, curling his socked toes in and out of the plush wine carpet. He could hear her muffled, quiet little sniffles behind the door; she'd been at it since she ran up the stairs. It seemed like she might finally be running out of steam, or at least tears. 

All he had to do was knock, for crying out loud. Tell her to stop her sniveling and come get some pizza. She could take it back upstairs and eat it if she wanted to; get enough strength to fuel a whole night of boo hoo's. 

All he had to do was knock.

Despite all the beer he'd just sucked down in the kitchen, his throat was as dry and gritty as sandpaper.

It was ridiculous, the amount of courage it took to raise his fist; the remarkable restraint on his behalf to not just fling open the door and... and what? And nothing, he admonished himself silently. Rob was doing his damnedest not to think about the 'and what's' or 'what if's.'

He finally braced himself and rapped solidly on the door with his knuckles, three times in quick succession. "Hey. Pizza's here."

There was a sharp snuffle followed by a stretch of silence: he could just picture her tear-streaked, puffy, and sullen face peering up from a pile of pillows and stuffed animals.

"Go away," she finally said, her voice thick and grouchy.

Rob was dimly aware that his fists were clenching and unclenching, clenching and unclenching at his sides in tandem with his jaw. That little bitch, he thought irritably. That ungrateful little bitch. The tension that had been building in that flighty space within his chest was dangerously close to coming to a head; the chewed, gnawed, repressed and abraded part of him wanted nothing more at that moment than to barge straight into her room and drag her down the stairs by her damn hair.

Instead, he found himself saying as calmly as one could past gritted teeth, "Come on, Ava. It's time to eat."

"I don't care," came the pointedly unconcerned response.

Rob knew that what little remained of his patience was becoming a rapidly burning fuse. Forcing himself to take a deep breath and count backwards from ten, he snapped his eyes shut and said in an forcibly measured tone, "Young lady, you will come downstairs and eat at the table."

He cracked an eye open and growled when he heard her say, "Or what? You're going to ground me to my room?" She twittered a laugh that was the auditory equivalent of a slap in the face. "You go right on ahead. I'm not coming out."

This time, Rob counted backwards from twenty before speaking again. "Ava, I will give you five seconds to come out of that door."

"I'm not fucking hungry, okay? Just go away and leave me the hell alone!"

That. Was. It. After weeks of bottling everything inside, the lid was finally off. His fuse had officially burned out. With the way his muscles bunched suddenly and violently, it was like every molecule in his body was clamoring in on itself in a rush to be the first to prize off the chains of restraint. He hardly even noticed this physical reaction; he didn't even realize that the hand lashing for the doorknob was twitching and jerking like a frenzied puppet.

He could hear her scrambling around in there, probably to get to the door and lock it before he had a chance to get it open, but he had the advantage on her. She was barely getting her feet under her when the door flung open, every scalding, undiluted drop of his rage focusing on her in one hell of a flash-point glare.

With almost preternatural clarity of vision, he saw the quick dart of her eyes take in his expression and tight bunch of his shoulders; watched the way her mouth formed a silent, "Oh, shit," and then snapped shut, only to gape open again like a fish sucking air.

"Get your fucking ass over here," Rob bellowed, closing in on her with swift, predatory strides. With the look of a cornered animal, Ava yelped and dove back onto the bed, clambering over the lumps of colorful blankets and pillows to the other side. Rob lunged after her, his clawed hands narrowly missing her bare ankle as she nimbly rolled herself out of reach.

She shrieked, "No! Get away from me, you creep!" 

Rob's all-out dive onto the bed ended up getting him tangled in sheets and her discarded clothes from earlier; as he struggled wildly with what felt like yards of fabric, he saw her dart towards the door from the corner of his eye. With an infuriated snarl, he jerked himself free of the confusion and sprang forward, landing on his feet with such force that the furniture trembled, and rushed her.

He tackled her so hard that he heard it knock the wind out of her; her lungs made a funny noise that for all the world sounded like he had taken them in both hands and squeezed them. They fell gracelessly, her arms and legs pinned askew beneath his own haphazardly angled frame, her face mashed between his heaving chest and the plush carpet. 

She was either too stunned to move, or simply couldn't because she was winded. Rob, on the other hand, was an outbreak of movement, swiftly repositioning himself with a knee on either side of her ribs, planting his haunches firmly on her ass and pinning her securely to the floor.

Her face was turning a bright shade of red, her half visible mouth silently struggling for an urgently needed gasp of air; air that her lungs immediately rejected in a violent coughing fit the moment she finally managed to get it. While she coughed and sputtered, he dragged her hands back and stuffed them under his knees, effectively immobilizing her arms as well.

The racking coughs subsided, the crimson quickly fading from her face as she acclimated her lungs to the harshness of air again. Her hair was a silky mess, falling over her face, straggling out onto the floor, a good portion even trapped between their bodies. Rob was breathing as hard as she was, his body unaccustomed to such furious exertion, and he only panted harder when she came back to her senses and started wriggling and struggling beneath him. 

"Stop it! Get off!" Ava's voice was high and shrill, matching the desperation in her exposed, terrified eye. The other was pushed, unseeing, into the carpet.

"Shut the fuck up," Rob growled savagely, gripping the twisted column of her throat with one hand to show her that he was more than willing to make her shut up if she didn't listen. Her pulse flickered wildly beneath his thumb, punctuated sharply with each jerky breath she took.

Something about feeling that heady rush of life, youth and beauty pulsing deliriously right there under his thumb filled him with a terrible sense of power. She was the one trembling now, her entire body shivering and twitching with a will of its own, crying out to him in terrified silence.

"You're driving me fucking crazy, Ava," he said through heaving breaths, aware of his own pulse in the pad of his thumb mingling with hers, a wildly off-beat tempo to her frantically pounding heart. Her body made one fierce, final jerk in an attempt to throw him off before going perfectly still save for her harsh breathing.

"Now you listen to me, damnit, and you listen good, because if you don't-"

"You're... what," she interrupted him, each word separated with a sharp gasp. "You're... going... to... punish... me?" She barked out a breathless laugh, and Rob leaned back a little, momentarily stunned by her continuing defiance.

She seemed to gather strength in his shocked silence and hastened to catch her breath, calming down enough to continue in a rough voice. "What's it going to be this time, then, dad? Another spanking? You'd fucking like that, wouldn't you? Going to pull my panties down again, you pervert? Stick a finger in my pussy this time? You would fucking like that, you sick bastard, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you?!"

"Stop it right now, Ava," Rob said, his voice coming out huskier than he intended. Ava laughed breathlessly again, squirming beneath him with her eyes tightly closed. If Rob didn't know any better, he would swear it seemed like she was trying to grind her crotch into the floor.




Ava's Immoral Soul Ch. 03



"Stop it or what? Oh, no, let me guess - you'll stick your cock in my pussy? Jesus, you're such a fucking number, dad!"

Jesus Christ, Rob thought as he clenched his teeth in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle a groan, was she saying this shit knowing full and well what she was doing to him? Whether she knew it or not, she was making things extremely hard for him, with that dirty fucking mouth of hers painting images that his mind knew all too well.

And the derision in her voice! Like she didn't think he was man enough to do it! Au contraire, he wanted to say to that acidic mockery in her tone, I'll show you what a man is, you stubborn little bitch!

Even though his hips had started moving of their own accord, making use of her body as friction for his aching erection, he struggled mightily to cling to that tiny little voice of morality in his head, with the intensity of a dying man trying to turn away from the light.

"Shut your mouth right now, Ava. Shut... your... fucking... mouth..," he whispered desperately, his brain engaged in a losing battle with his hips as his hand fell from her throat, clutching her shoulder in a bruising grip.

"Shut it or what? You're going to stuff your stupid, sweaty old cock in it?!" 

She had completely caught her breath now; and even worse, Rob realized, the upper hand in the situation. That little tramp was pinned beneath him, damnit, weak and lush and reeking of feminine inferiority, and somehow she had gained control over him.

She was making his head spin.

All in all, it was that image she verbally forced on him about shoving his cock in her mouth that pushed him over the edge. Even if he excluded the mounting tension of the past few weeks, just that horribly erotic image on top of everything else she'd said pounded the weight of it home.

"Oh, fuck, Ava, you asked for it," Rob hissed furiously, shifting his weight off of her and to the side. He grabbed her by the hair at the scruff of her neck with one hand and shoved his sweats down with the other, yanking her head back until it looked like her spine might snap from the unnatural bend he'd forced upon it. Then he scooted back roughly until he bumped into her bed, the movement pulling his sweats down nearly to his knees; all the while dragging her with him, giving her no choice but to scramble onto her knees and follow on all fours.

She moved to his bidding with a reluctant yet feral grace. The corner of her lip was bleeding from her impact with the floor; her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and had a manic gleam to them. Her expression was one of pure, unadulterated loathing that did not waver in the slightest until she glanced down at the fully erect cock he was unconsciously stroking with his free hand.

In that moment, the hatred etched on her features melted into something close to obsessive adoration. "Oh, Cock," she cooed to it, sounding more like a woman just reacquainted with a long-lost, presumably dead lover than an unconsenting daughter confronted with her father's dick for the first time.

The pure lust that was so plainly written on her face made his thickly swollen cock lurch with desire, and Ava didn't seem to need any clearer invitation than that. Ignoring the hand clasped in her hair, she thrust her ass up high and slithered forward on her belly until her fingers were buried in his thighs and her nose was pressed up into his sac. 

She inhaled sharply several times; each exhale bathing his balls in a warm sigh that made his skin crawl and tighten appreciably. The first contact of her tongue made him groan and thrust his hips closer, years of tension all but evaporating as every nerve ending in his body tuned exclusively to the warm, wet trail of that velvety muscle sliding up the seam on his sac.

"Oh, god! Oh god yes," she breathed blissfully as her wriggling, sensuously seeking tongue paused at the base of his throbbing erection. She sucked in his scent greedily, her nose pressing right up into his cock, and Rob made a sound between a gasp and a growl, tightening his grip in her hair.

Ava gurgled only the briefest of protests as he snatched her head up and forcibly shoved her face towards the engorged head, missing her mouth by an inch that felt more like a mile and hitting her soft cheek instead. Closing her eyes, she instinctively parted her lips and turned her head towards it, capturing it with a noisy suckle that ended in a rumbling sound of pleasure deep in her chest. 

"Fuck, little girl," Rob hissed, arching his spine as his head fell back, the reverberation on his cock making his balls tighten pleasurably. Her mouth was like nothing he had ever felt before; in hardly two seconds it so wet he wondered if his dick would prune. It was almost hot enough to make steam and just about as invitingly soft as a freshly opened pussy. And then she started sucking him into her mouth -- she didn't even bob her head down or slide her mouth down his length - she just pulled him into her mouth like it was the most natural way to go about blowjobs in the world.

It had hardly even been three seconds, and he was already doing everything he could think of to keep from blowing his load in her slippery little mouth.

She pulled as much as she could past her lips with that first languid suckle, and then she dipped her head to go after the rest, groaning and moaning and purring with each inch that vanished between those supple, blood-reddened lips. Rob could only watch in fascination as she all but inhaled the first several inches, his widening girth stretching the corners of her mouth until he thought surely she would stop, begin working her way back up...

Halfway down his length, just before its thickest point, she did pause, giving him a moment to both bask in the pleasure of having such a hot, wet mouth sucking on his cock, and wallow in the disappointment that she wouldn't be taking in more.

"Oh, fuck, Ava!" he moaned weakly when her velvety tongue slithered sensuously against the thickly veined underside, wriggling from side to side in an affectionate slather while simultaneously sucking the head of his cock up into the top of her mouth. She bumped it into a spot up in the back where the firm, rippled flesh of the roof smoothed and softened.

That spot, spongy and yielding and achingly familiar, stirred a desperate groan from him, and he started bucking his hips, not forcing himself any deeper but rubbing his sensitive cockhead from ripples to smoothness, firm ridges to frictionless flesh. And Jesus... she was still doing that thing with her tongue, all the while sucking him with blatant reverence, her fingers unconsciously kneading into his hairy thighs, working their way up to his churning balls.

It was very, very close to being an untimely but extremely happy ending for Rob. 

"Ava..." he choked out, unable to say more but hoping the desperate warning in his tone would be enough to convey the message. She got it, alright -- but she had other plans of what to do about it. She all but squealed around his thick cock and plunged forward heedlessly. He had expected her to slow down, back off a little; not to deepthroat him like some shamelessly talented porn star. There was no way in hell to suppress the deep cry of pleasure that tore its way from his chest when he felt his cock slide into the tight, grasping channel of her throat, the corners of her mouth stretched impossibly wide around the fat pillar of his erection. She was slurping and sucking and swirling her tongue, wringing her thighs together and mindlessly humping her ass in the air. And good God, was she trying to suck his balls up into her mouth, too?!

By the time her fingers found his sac, it was too late. His cock throbbed and twitched, then became almost unbearably hard; his balls almost felt like a solid entity in her small, skillful hand. He looked down at her lewdly gyrating body, her cheeks hollowed with suction and that ravenous mouth completely sheathing his erection, and he couldn't wait to rip her clothes off of her, to bury himself just as deeply in her juicy cunt as he was in her throat.

"Auugghh! I'm coming, Ava! I'm going to fucking cum down your... aaughhh!!!"

His balls clenched and squeezed, purging the first slippery spurt of seed; his length spasmed with it, and when he felt her try to pull back for air, he tightened his grip in her hair and shoved her head down again, his eyes rolling back in his head as wave after wave of thick cum shot straight down her throat.

She was choking, her throat clenching almost painfully on his throbbing, spurting dick. Her nose was dripping, her eyes smarting red and steadily dripping tears. And she was fingering herself, a wrist pinned between her pants and her pelvis, hips bucking wildly in time to her rapidly working fingers.

A second orgasm followed immediately on the heels of the first, and Rob quickly snatched her head back, letting her suck in a gurgling, needy gasp as he came all over her lips, chin and throat. 

"Oh my fucking God," Rob gasped, having not even realized how rigidly poised his body had been during that second orgasm until he collapsed back against the bed. He'd been practically bowed over her head; now every muscle in his body might as well have been tapioca pudding.

He had to jerk Ava's head away from his twitching, shrinking cock -- she was trying to suckle it back into her mouth again. "Wait," he panted, literally dragging her up on top of his chest.

Ava's eyes were glazed over, her mouth still working hungrily as though she was still trying to suck on something, even though the closest protrusion to her at this point was his earlobe.

Or maybe his nose.

"Daddy," she whispered, straddling his hips, mindless of the sticky globs dripping down her chin, concentrating only on trying to grind her pussy against his flaccid dick. 

"No, Ava," Rob insisted, grabbing her hips with both hands and jerking her up so she straddled his stomach instead.

"Daddeeeee," she groaned miserably, still humping him. Her plaid pajama pants were soaked clear through. The crotch of those pants were warm, slick and slippery on his abdomen. "Daddy, I need to. Need to."

Oh fuck, thought Rob, what have I done? This girl is a beast. "I'm guessing," he mused tiredly, exhausted, spent, and unbelievably sensitive but resigned to the fact that it wasn't going to end there, "That you're no stranger to sex, what with that little demonstration."

If she even heard him, she didn't show it. She was grinding her way up his stomach, hunching her hips as quick as a bunny, working her way up to his chest. "Fuck. Lick. Finger. Something," she nearly chanted, her voice reminiscent of a trance-like state that would make a cult leader proud.

"Cock," she added pointedly, and started inching her way down again.

And damned if it didn't respond like a dog called by name, twitching wetly against his thigh. "Nnnnot yet, Ava," he grunted, and summoning his strength, he rolled her onto her back, where she immediately shoved both hands forearm-deep inside her pants, the veiled movements of her fingers momentarily mesmerizing him. 

"Damn, honey," he whispered, sliding a hand up her stomach and dragging her shirt up with it, exposing a shapely, clenched stomach that stretched, dipped and tapered into the angular protrusions of the peak of her ribs. Dragging in a breath that hissed between his teeth, he flipped the shirt over those succulent globes, baring them to his eyes for the first time. 

He had always sworn that Mary Anne had the most beautiful breasts he'd ever seen. They were smaller than most, sure, but they were perfectly shaped and buoyant, crowned with the smallest, pinkest nipples he'd ever had the pleasure of sucking.

As much as it panged him with guilt on so many levels to even think it, he knew that Ava blew that memory out of the water.

Swaying and jiggling in time with the desperate ministrations of her wrists and fingers, her breasts were a glorious shrine to movement. On a bonier woman, they would have been laughably large, but on Ava, they were mouthwatering. Despite their size, there wasn't a single stretch mark to mar their beauty. Her nipples were perfectly round and hard enough to cut diamonds, perked out jauntily from quarter sized areolas. 

Without needing to think about it, Rob dipped his head down and grasped one of those rock hard nipples between his lips, letting his tongue just barely graze the surface. Ava arched her back and dug her heels into the carpet, whimpering heatedly at the contact.

Grinning slightly at the response, he parted his lips around the nipple and gave it a firmer stroke with his wet tongue before curling the wet muscle around it, pulling it with a noisy slurp into his mouth. Ava thrashed and cried out hoarsely, humping her fingers in a wild staccato of movement. He slid his gaze down her undulating body, drinking in the erotic sight of her as his cock stirred to life again against his thigh.

But fuck. This was wrong, this was all wrong. Why did she have to arouse him so?

Right now, at this very moment, he was feasting on her fleshy breast while his cum coated her esophagus all the way to her belly. The thought made him want to make a sticky mess between her legs every bit as much as it horrified him. Had they already gone too far? Was he even strong enough to stop it if they hadn't?

She was moaning and writhing on her back, pressing her body closer to him, arching her sensitive nipple towards his mouth, her eyes closed in complete submission to the rapture she was feeling.

"Ava..," Rob whispered, drawing his head away. He, too, closed his eyes, afraid the sight of her like this would do terrible things to the resolve he so shakily held.

"Ava, we need to stop."

He felt her go still beside him, heard the rush of his blood over the deafening silence. When he opened his eyes tentatively, he saw her staring up at him, her mouth slightly agape. 

"The hell you say!" she exclaimed just before her hand shot out like a bolt of lightening, snagging the back of his neck and dragging his head down between her breasts. "You got yours, you filthy fucking perv, and I had better get mine!"

Rob was too baffled to speak. Ava grabbed his hand next, shoved it down her body to the waistband of her pants. "You have ten fucking seconds to get started or I'm calling the cops on you."

"What the- Ava!!"

"Ten. Nine. Eight. Sev-"

With his head spinning in more directions than he could count, Rob gave one last inward glance at the shaky-legged little protester of everything wrong with this situation and mentally gave it the finger.

"Alright," he interrupted her harshly, "but I'm not gonna be nice about it, you little bitch."

She jerked convulsively at the word and scrunched herself even closer to him, pushing incessantly on his wrist. Giving in, he slipped his hand beneath her pajama pants and felt that hot, throbbing center of saturated flesh for the third time. It was so unbelievably wet that for a moment, he could only marvel at the textures beneath his fingertips, soaked and swollen and luxurious. He bathed the slippery outer lips with two fingers, stroking from top to bottom to top again in an exploring caress.

Ava moaned sweetly, going from bitch to kitten in less than a second, pressing her hips up tremblingly to seek out more of that touch. With a patience he didn't know he had in him, he traced a full outline of those slick, clenching folds, making his way closer and closer to the part with each deliberate oval drawn with his fingertips. Each little gasp and whimper made it harder to maintain the wickedly slow pace, so he latched himself onto her nipple again to distract himself from reaching his main goal. 

Ava was a bucking, twisting, fluidly writhing manifestation of growing lust. Every stroke of his fingers and each suckling pull that drew more of her tender breast into his mouth made her need even more pronounced, until he was finally tracing his fingertip up and down her dripping slit, parting her lips little by little.

She was panting, gasping, arching herself higher and higher until the only parts of her touching the floor were her head, shoulders and heels, the rest of her body bowed up like a marionette, held taut by the strings he was expertly pulling.

Seeing her like that, it really didn't matter if she was his daughter.

At that moment, she was just a young woman who needed to be fucked. Groaning at the sight of her, Rob flicked his finger up her slit, opening her to him in one firm sweep. She cried out blissfully, pressing herself up even more for him, and then she slammed her body down when he shoved two fingers into her tight, slippery little cunt.

He felt her walls convulse around his fingers, felt even more moisture squeeze past them, and was amazed. Well, that was easy. She was wriggling her ass on the floor, pumping herself up and down on his fingers, grunting and moaning in rapture. 

"Ava, did you just-"

"Nngghh, Daddy, shut up and fuck me," Ava gasped, yanking his head away from her marvelous tits and trying unsuccessfully to drag him on top of her. Rob dug his heels in and refused to budge, smirking at her as her face contorted with her efforts.

Looking up at his face, she twisted her mouth into an admittedly effective pout and tugged on his shirt, her eyes impossibly green in contrast to the worried, red skin that surrounded them.

"Daddeeee..," she whined, slowly rocking her hips against his hand in a non-too-subtle hint. 

"I told you, Ava -- I'm not going to make this pleasant."

She frowned at him, not catching his drift. "Sorry, dad, not following."

Rob glanced over his shoulder at her bed, then grunted and jerked a thumb at it. "Bend over the bed and stick your ass in the air."

Still pouting -- although sexily now -- Ava shimmied out of her pants and rolled onto her stomach before stretching as lithely as a cat. She made it a point to mash her breasts into the carpet, enhancing their shape, and thrust her ass into the air. Rob had to bite his tongue to keep himself from taking her right then and there. She seemed to expect him to do it, too; she watched him for several seconds and then sighed theatrically, crawling sensuously to the bed with an enticing sway to that pert, round bottom.

From his position on the floor, he could see her wet pussy between her parted thighs, and the juices that were flowing freely down her supple thighs. This time when he bit down on his tongue, he tasted blood. 

Ava reached the bed and more or less slithered herself halfway up it, doing as told. Splaying her arms across the length of the bed, she pressed her stomach and breasts flat into the blanket strewn mattress, thrusting her pelvis back to offer her ass up. Then she looked over her shoulder at him, dark hair falling over to veil those serious eyebrows, her lips still forming a sultry pout. 

"Good girl," Rob whispered throatily, sliding up to his knees. "Turn your head back. I don't want to see your face."

For a second, Ava looked hurt; then she obediently turned, resting her forehead on the bed. Rob shuffled over to her, still on his knees, and didn't stop until his hard cock bumped the inside of a silky, cum-streaked thigh. Ava's whole body jerked and she instinctively wiggled herself back, trying to angle her hips down and out to capture his cock.

He gripped her hips steadily and pushed them until she was firmly pinned against the mattress, saying a short but meaningful, "No." He brushed his palms up her sides, savoring her silhouette, rubbing his scruffy cheek against the small of her back. Her moan was as soft as velvet on his ears, rich with lust and pleasure. Rob smiled to himself and slowly pushed up to his feet, grasping the base of his throbbing cock and poising it between her thighs. Ava tried to twitch back and spear herself on it, but Rob used his free hand to shove her forward again. "No." She whimpered in agitation but didn't move; Rob took that as consent to his will and began to slowly rub himself up and down her oozing slit, closing his eyes tightly as he battled his own lust.




Ava's Immoral Soul Ch. 03



Ava was obviously trying very hard not to ram herself onto him; her hips and pelvis twitched and jerked, even gyrated from side to side; but she managed to restrain herself. He would have to reward her for that restraint... but later. 

For now, he had to punish his little girl.

"You've been very bad, Ava," he said gruffly, teasingly pressing just the cockhead against the tight, spongy and sopping entrance to her sex. Ava tossed her head back and moaned. "Yes, daddy, yes!"

Rob grinned in amusement. "No, Ava," he said mockingly, "No!"

She growled and threw her head forward again, her forehead thudding softly on the mattress.

"Now I've tried everything I could think of to punish you," he continued, resuming his slow stroke of self and pussy as he got himself good and saturated with her copious fluids. "And still, you insist on being a rebellious, headstrong, cunty little cow." 

Ava made a sound of indignant shock at his choice of words. Rob wasn't in any hurry to correct himself. This was punishment, after all. It was supposed to hurt. "So this time, Ava, I'm going to make sure that I make myself clear," he said calmly, tightening his grip on himself and slowly, ever so slowly began to draw his cockhead from clit to slit, and then even further back, trailing his slippery cock past the sensitive flesh between her pussy and that tight little pucker, slathering it with her own juices.

Ava tensed suddenly; it seemed to have finally dawned on her where he was going with this. "When I'm done with you, you'll think twice about stepping out of line, little missy," he promised, getting her good and wet. 

"Daddy," Ava gasped, a definite twinge of panic in her voice, "Daddy, no, please!"

"Nope. Sorry, honey. You can't beg your way out of this one," he said brightly, palming one plump cheek and pushing it aside as he positioned himself against her clenched hole. "But you can beg. I am a pervert, after all, aren't I? I like that sort of thing."

"Daddy! NO! No, daddy, not there, God, please, not there!" Ava cried desperately, trying to wriggle her way out of reach. In one swift movement, Rob plunged his hips forwards, ramming his cock right into her spasming asshole and wound his arm around her waist, both to hold her steady and push more of his length inside of her.

Ava let out a blood curdling scream; Rob quickly thrust his arm up between her breasts, clamping his hand over her mouth to stifle it. Even with the lubrication she had so generously provided, her asshole was still a little dry and a lot tight -- he was having trouble getting any further. He felt hot tears spill over his hand and between his fingers, moaned passionately when her body shuddered, unconsciously sending vibrations through the throbbing length of him.

"Oooh, fuck, little girl," he hissed, burying his face in the silky hair that cascaded over the back of her neck. Rocking his hips in a tight, circular motion, he started to spread her open for him, giving a small pump forward every few rotations. She was as stiff as a board in his grip, her eyes assaulting his fingers with tear after tear, her throat purging hoarse screams that were lost in the tight cup of his hand; and then he felt her relax and push back, just a little, resulting in his eager cock deepening its niche inside of her.

Rob groaned, heard Ava's response deep in her throat. "Oh, you little slut," he murmured against the back of her neck, drawing his hand away from her ass to sweep her hair over her shoulder. "You're not supposed to like this. This is your punishment. Or are you the pervert, now?"

Ava began to cry, her shoulders trembling as she turned sodden in his snug grip. Instead of stopping, he leaned forward with her, letting her upper body rest on the mattress as he snaked his arm out from beneath her. Straightening to his full height, he gently placed one hand on either cheek, spreading them out lewdly for his enjoyment. 

It was taking some serious work, but she was loosening up for him. He stared down at his engorged cock, watching it sink deeper and deeper between the gorgeous cleft of her ass, and then pulled back slowly only to do it all over again. He was so mesmerized by the visual stimulation (as well as the nearly painful tightness currently clenching his throbbing erection) that it took him several moments to realize that she was starting to push back, tentatively at first, but with more resolution each time.

Rob was grateful that he had already blown two loads for his little girl. If he hadn't, he definitely would be right now.

Letting one hand fall from her succulent ass, he drifted his fingers between her legs, scooping up some of that ambrosial fluid and slathering it over himself and her asshole, making his progress inside of her easier. She moaned in appreciation and arched her back, giving him that much more of herself.

He dipped his hand between her thighs again, seeking out her swollen clit from her silky, saturated folds.

When he found it and began pinching and twisting it between his fingers, Ava gasped and started bumping her hips back rhythmically, grunting in pain and pleasure. Rob grunted as well and shoved himself inside of her as hard as he could, a strangled cry tearing itself from his throat as his balls tightened lustily, threatening to spill their seed.

"Fuck, Ava, be still!"

"I'm sorry Daddy!"

Growling under his breath, Rob pinched her clit hard, eliciting a squeak and a wiggle from her. When she quieted down, still as a mouse, he began working himself in and out of her again, gently rubbing his index finger in circles around her clit to make up for his previous abuse. She cooed softly and tentatively pushed her ass back, that steamy, tight hole greedily devouring his cock.

Rob slowly but steadily worked up into a good, hard pace, closing his eyes as he let the sensations wash over him. With each thrust, his hips slapped audibly into her plump bottom; his balls were soaked from slapping repeatedly into her sopping cunt. Her puckered hole was still as snug as it could be, but it had some give to it now -- he felt only the delirious satisfaction of strong muscles give around his cock from head to base with each steady push; the delicious tightening of those muscles with each pull.

She was milking him with her body, and his balls -- dripping now with her cream -- were creeping and crawling and getting heavier with each moment, the end clearly in sight.

As for Ava, she was definitely starting to enjoy herself. Her head was buried in a rumpled blanket; he could see the tendons in her neck and jaw stretch as she chewed on it to muffle her cries of pleasure. He stuffed two fingers inside of her and flicked her clit furiously with his thumb; in a mere matter of seconds, she slammed back until he was buried to the hilt inside of her, her ass pinned so tightly to his pelvis that a piece of paper couldn't fit between them, and came with a good deal of thrashing and muffled screams.

Rob clasped her hips so tight that his fingers left indents on her skin and pressed into her just as forcefully, feeling his fingers through the thin membrane of soft flesh, and then burst inside of her.

In her pussy, he felt the spasming of his cock as it shot rope after rope of sticky semen, felt her walls contract on both ends as she writhed with yet another orgasm.

Slumping on top of her as his balls emptied themselves in her clenching ass, he bathed her neck in kisses, listening to her soft moans and mewls as she nuzzled back into him. "Am I a good girl, now, dad?" she asked in a whispery, breathless little voice, and Rob couldn't help but chuckle, biting down on her shoulder lightly.

She squealed and wriggled her ass back at him, making him groan and unsheath his dwindling erection from its warm, sticky nest. "I'm seriously beginning to doubt you'll ever be a good girl, Ava," he laughed, rolling away from her and falling onto his back on the bed. He was immediately pounced by a dripping green-eyed brunette, and any protest was lost when she tugged her shirt up and over her head. 

"I took my punishment," she said in all seriousness, reaching down to tip his chin up in a hint for him to remove his eyes from her lusciously swaying breasts. "Now I want my reward."

"Ava, I'm a man, not a machine," Rob said, finding his will to protest again. He craned his neck and glanced past her to his cock, which was making a weak but valiant attempt to stir again. Traitor..

"Like I care. You should have thought about that before you banned me from seeing boys, and then Roxie, all in one miserable year! Daddy, this could seriously be damaging my mental health. I need sex, damnit, and if you won't let me get it through normal means, then I'm gonna get it from you!"

All of that in one breath and with a snotty little toss of her head, to boot.

"Ava, I think your mental health is already in a state of ill repair," Rob said, laughing when she swatted at his chest with the back of her hand.

"Dad..."

Rob sighed, pushed himself up on an elbow and cupped her strange, beautiful face with one hand. "Alright. A truce, then, because I am an old man who's been out of business for a long, long time."

She narrowed her eyes at him, apparently not buying into what he hadn't even tried to sell her yet. "I'm listening..."

"You let me put some ice on this thing, and tomorrow, if you're good at school, I'll give you the fucking you obviously need."

Ava pursed her lips and peered down at him suspiciously before saying, "Where?"

"Hell, I don't know. The living room, your bedroom, the kitchen; wherever you want it."

"I meant which hole. 'Cause my ass hurts. I don't want you going there for a while again."

Rob couldn't help it -- he burst out laughing, earning another hearty swat from his ornery little girl. "Alright, alright," he said, wheezing. Winding an arm around her, he splayed his arm along her spine and drew her down close to him, squeezing her against his chest as her hair fell over their faces, the silky strands caressing his rough cheek and sweaty throat. Pressing his lips against her ear, he brushed a kiss there and then breathed, "I'll stick my stupid, sweaty old cock in your pussy this time, if that's what you mean."

There was a shocked little silence; he could practically hear the wheels spinning in her head and felt the heat of her blush soak through his skin. Then she giggled.

"I didn't really mean that, dad. I was just baiting you."

"Yeah, well, you caught me. Hook, line and stinker."

"Sinker."

"Yeah, that too."

They both chuckled, grinning, and then Ava turned her head slightly, her lips hovering just over his. Their eyes met, shadowed by the soft drape of her hair, and Rob cleared his throat awkwardly. He had just crammed his cock down Ava's throat and ripped open her asshole; why on earth would it strike him as weird to kiss her now? 

Rob couldn't explain it... but he couldn't do it, either. Not yet, anyway.

Turning his head a fraction of an inch, he blocked her kiss and gave her the corner of his mouth instead, smacking a kiss on her cheek at the same time before swatting her ass. "Ow," she whined, reluctantly scooting off of him and to the side.

"Now it's bedtime for you, young lady," he said firmly, pushing himself up and off the bed with a glance down to his half erect cock. Damn thing didn't know what was good for it. His balls certainly knew what was good for them -- they were as loose and dry as sandbags.

"Fine, daddy," Ava said with more than just a hint of annoyance, snuggling the covers up to her chin. Rob saw a ripple beneath the blankets as she slipped her hand down between her legs. Shaking his head, he walked across her room, stepping out into the hallway when her voice stopped him.

"Hey, dad?"

"Yeah, Spaghettio?"

"Are you sure I have to go to school tomorrow? Can't we just stay home and... you know?"

Rob couldn't believe this. For the second time that night, he found himself wondering, what have I done? "Goodnight, Ava."

"You could call in and say I have diphtheria."

"I said goodnight, Ava."

Keeping his back to her so she wouldn't see his grin, he closed the door on her mumbled, "Yeah, yeah, 'night," and went to sleep in his own bed. And, despite or maybe even because of the reason, it was the best sleep he'd gotten in years.