A Birthday to Remember
The man was gently roused from his slumber by the familiar sensation of a mouth around his cock. As he laid there, blinking away his drowsiness and enjoying his morning blowjob, it dawned on him that the techniques he was experiencing and the quiet moans he was hearing did not belong to the maid that was on today's morning duty. Looking down to identify his mystery guest, he recognized the familiar head of his daughter, topped by a white headpiece, her two high brown pigtails bobbing on either side. She looked up and made eye contact, smiling around his cock, before speeding up her actions. The man didn't know why his daughter was dressed up as a maid, and he didn't know why she was performing the maid's morning duties, but he decided to just lay back and enjoy. It only took a couple minutes under her practiced tongue before the man was ready to blow. He reached down and put one hand on the back of her head, gently encouraging her to take him all the way in. She did just that, running her tongue lovingly around the base of his cock as she coaxed his first load of the day down her throat.
Relaxing, the man lifted his hand. Now free, his daughter bounded to her feet. Seeing the inquisitory look on her father's face she grinned.
"Happy birthday Daddy!" she said. "Today I'm your personal maid!"
She hopped back from the bed a step and slowly spun in place, showing off her outfit. She was wearing one of the several different designs the man had selected for his staff. She wore a frilly short black skirt with white trim, partially covered by a small white apron. The top was a matching tiny white tube top, with black trim and a small black bow in the center, it hugged her slim chest snugly, the outline of her nipples visible if you looked closely. Her pretty pale stomach was left bare. She had on frilly white stockings that ended a couple of inches below the skirt, held up by black elastic woven through the tops. She had medium height black heels. Her wrists were covered by black and white cuffs, and, as he had noticed earlier, a white headpiece sat atop her head between her high pigtails. Lastly she wore the maid's collar, a thick iron ring, lined on the inside with soft black cloth, a single chain link dangling from its center.
"Do you like your present Daddy?" she asked, leaning forward slightly, hands clasped behind her back, emphasizing the slight swell of her chest.
"I do indeed." he said. "But today I'm 'Master' not 'Daddy', and if you're going to be my personal maid all day I hope you don't intent to shirk any of your duties."
"Of course not Master." she said, crawling back into his bed and latching her mouth back onto his now flaccid dick.
"Make sure not to spill a drop." he said, relaxing his bladder.
She drank it all down, a slight grimace on her face, careful not to spill a single drop.
Several minutes later the man was seated at the breakfast table. Laid out in front of him was a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and a glass of milk. It was simpler than his usual fare, but since his daughter had made it for him personally he didn't mind. He usually enjoyed a second blowjob at breakfast and without prompting his daughter crawled beneath the table and took his member in her mouth. He had finished around half the meal before he felt his orgasm approaching. He grabbed a pigtail in each hand and pulled hard, jamming his dick as far down her throat as it would go. It took longer for her to bring him to orgasm the second time, the movements of her tongue becoming desperate in her attempt to finish him off and get access to air. He released her as soon as the last rope was shot down her throat, and in her haste she hit her head on the bottom of the table, spilling the still half full glass of milk.
"Go get a rag and clean that up." the man commanded his daughter, who was sitting with her legs splayed on the floor, coughing and rubbing the back of her head.
"Yes master, sorry master." she apologized, running off to get a rag.
While the man was eating the rest of his meal his daughter returned and began to wipe up the spill. The man watched his daughter as she bent over the table, ass swaying from side to side as she soaked up the spilled drink with her rag. Commando was the standard for his maids and the contents of her tiny skirt were fully on display.
Neither the man nor his daughter had bothered to put the man's dick away, and while he watched the highly arousing scene it began to swell once more. Without bothering to finish his meal the man stood up, moved behind his daughter, grabbed her hips, and thrust forward. She gasped as he slid deep into her soaked folds. The girl squeaked as her father grabbed one of her wrists, twisting it behind her back and pushing her forcefully down onto the table, right into the puddle of milk. He began to fuck her in earnest and the dining hall was filled with the girls lusty moans and his low grunts. The pair quickly reached climax together, the man shooting his load deep into his daughters womb as she loudly cried out her pleasure.
The man collapsed back into his chair while his daughter lay bonelessly in the puddle of milk, the pair breathing heavy as they collected themselves. Belatedly the man remembered having heard a crashing sound he had been to distracted to process. Looking down he saw that the glass had rolled off the table and shattered on the ground.
"Spilled milk and a broken glass?" the man said. "I hope you didn't assume the duties of a maid believing you'd get special treatment."
The girl pushed herself up and turned around, sitting on the edge of the table. Her white top was now nearly transparent, soaked through with milk, her cute little pink nipples hard as she met her father's eyes. Her eyes were wide as she shivered under his gaze. She wavered a moment, gulped, and opened her mouth.
"Of course not master." she said.
"Good, once you clean up this mess go to the basement and pick out which paddle you think your mistake warrants, I'll meet you there once I've finished my meal."
The girl gulped, nodded, then hopped down from the table, leaving to get a dustpan and broom.
The man entered the basement, the door clicking shut behind him. He had referred to the room as a basement, but aesthetically it was modeled much more like a dungeon. Faux stone siding panels covered the walls, and by default the led lights flickered dimly in their sconces along the wall, emulating torchlight. Implements of torture and worse were scattered around the room, used for punishing errant maids, though occasionally their only error may have been arousing the man's darker nature.
The man hit a switch and the lights brightened and grew steady. The room suddenly felt much less foreboding, the room was still full of the dark implements of torture, but it now had the atmosphere of a modern historical exhibit, describing the atrocities of the past rather than foreshadowing those of the imminent present. Mood was important, but today the man was more interested in seeing his victim clearly then he was in setting the stage.
His daughter was standing next to a chair. With both hands she held a tray, and on the tray sat a leather paddle. The man smiled as he saw which paddle she had chosen. Of the many paddles in his collection it was far from being the most capable of dealing damage, but it also was not one he would recommend for a couple with only a casual interest in the idea of erotic spanking. The black leather tool was around a foot and a half in length with a wide flat striking surface attached to short handle. The flat part was studded every half inch or so with a diamond shaped rivet, the shiny silver metal contrasting starkly against the matte black leather. Yes, the man thought, his daughter had made an excellent choice.
The man walked up to his daughter and picked up the paddle from the tray, never breaking eye contact with the girl. She waved under his gaze, but didn't look away, her face flushed. The man didn't know if she had picked this paddle because she was afraid of incurring harsher punishment if she picked too leniently or if she had picked it because it was the one she genuinely most wanted to be struck by.
The man took a seat on the chair and patted his thigh. The girl laid across his legs and flipped her skirt up onto her back, exposing her bottom bare. The man reached with his off hand between his daughters legs, probing at her lips. She was absolutely dripping. Some of the fluid she leaked was admittedly the cum the man had deposited earlier, but she was clearly quite aroused, probably even more so than she had been back on the dining room table. The man withdrew his hand, fingers dripping with cum and arousal, and stuck his fingers in his daughter's mouth. The girl moaned as she greedily sucked their combined fluid off his digits.
The first strike of the paddle came while she was distracted with her treat. She squealed, accidentally biting down on the fingers in her mouth. The bite wasn't hard enough to break the skin, but it still hurt quite a bit.
"Careful with the teeth. I would threaten harsher punishment, but I suspect that might have the opposite effect, so… just don't bite your master's fingers off." the man commanded.
The girl nodded, closing her eyes as she braced for further impacts.
The man began to rain down strikes, he did not count nor give any other verbal indication of incoming strikes and he didn't establish a steady rhythm. Sometimes he would follow up a strike almost immediately, sometimes he would give the skin several seconds of reprieve before the follow up. Most strikes were on the light side, these serving to set expectations such that the strong strikes stung that much more. The girl lurched forward with each strike, one would assume recoiling from the strike, but the man didn't miss her clitoris dragging along his thigh. As the strikes continued the girls yelps of pain began to tinge with lust, the man's sweatpants nearly soaking through as she smeared her arousal across them. The man could sense she was close and removed his hand from her mouth, placing it on her back, holding her in place and preventing her from lurching forward. She whined as she tried to scoot forward, looking balefully up at her father as she futilely tried to stimulate her clit. The man smiled back at her. It wasn't that he didn't want her to come, but that he wanted her to come from the pain alone. He raised his arm, his muscles tensed, and he brought down the paddle with all the force he could bear. The girl screamed as she came, losing control of her bladder as she spasmed in her father's lap, slumping spent as her scream petered out.
She roused a few minutes later, her father gently stroking her back as she laid across his lap. She met his eyes and he smiled at her.
"Welcome back, once you can stand go fetch me a fresh pair of pants." the man said.
The girl looked down at his absolutely soaked sweatpants and flushed beet red. She hastily tried to stand on wobbling legs but fell on her ass, which was even redder than her face, and let out a shrill yelp. The man threw back his head, laughing joyfully.
The man spent the next few hours leisurely enjoying his day, attended to hand and foot by his maid daughter. After a short walk through the grounds he enjoyed a blowjob while sitting on a concrete bench, his daughter kneeling in the dewy grass. He watched a bit of the news, his daughter bouncing in his lap, wincing every time her bruised backside met his pelvis as he fucked her ass.
Her second strike happened while she was preparing lunch. The man was doing his best to distract her while she worked, fingering her, slapping her raw bottom, and even a bit of cunnilingus while she tried to busy herself around the kitchen. Eventually it worked, an orgasm distracting her long enough that she forgot about the sourdough she had started toasting for sandwiches. She had only just turned off the toaster and opened it to let the smoke air out when her father ordered her to the basement. She opened her mouth, as if to protest that this wasn't a fair strike, but then closed it. She averted her eyes and her face flushed, it seemed she welcomed the excuse for punishment just as much as he did.
In the basement, the man affixed two iron shackles to his daughter's wrists. The chains were attached to winches in the ceiling and the man pulled her up until the girl was standing precariously on just the toes of her heeled shoes, her arms stretched in a Y-shape above her. The man retrieved a whip from where it hung on the wall, moving into position behind his daughter and letting the whip unfurl to the floor. He stayed like that for a long moment, his daughter shaking with anticipation.
A loud crack was immediately followed by an anguished cry, the girl almost losing her footing, an angry red welt now visible on her back. The man continued, the same way he had done the paddling, with no consistent force or rhythm. Welt after welt bloomed on the girls back, her tube top tearing with each strike that hit it until it fluttered to the ground. Rivulets of blood began to run down the girls back, dying the white trim of her skirt. She had completely lost her footing, nearly her entire weight now hanging on her wrists. The man had planned to pause after a while, to stick a vibrator in her to mix in pleasure with her pain until they became indistinguishable, to turn it off just before she came and to bring her to climax from just the business side of the whip. This proved unnecessary however, her anguished cries becoming more tinged with pleasure with every strike, her arousal dripping quite evidently onto the floor without any added genital stimulation. The man was amazed at how magnificent and sexy a pain slut his daughter had become in just a single day.
It seemed his daughter was on the brink of orgasm, and so the man brought the whip down hard, perpendicular across several welts that had already split and begun to bleed. The girl let out a harrowing wail, screaming out her agony and ecstasy. She lost control of her bladder, urine streaming from under her skirt to the concrete floor. Her scream became strained and her voice failed, and after a few more seconds of the overwhelming sensation wracking her body she went slack in her bonds, the basement silent save for the sound of urine splashing against the ground.
The man gently lowered his daughter to the ground with the winch controls. He unshackled her wrists then grabbed a first aid kit. He disinfected the wounds on her back and then dressed them, bandage wrappings encircling her torso. His hands roamed the slight swell of her chest much more than was necessary and the nipple tweaking hadn't been necessary at all, but he got the job done and he did it adeptly. He applied some ointment to her chafed wrists, adjusting her cuffs to cover the damage. He wiped off the sweat, blood, and piss then gently carried her unconscious form to the living room. He laid her on her stomach, her head resting on his lap. Between her ass and her back she'd be sleeping on her front for weeks. The man cracked open a book, settling in, idly stroking his daughter head while he read, waiting for his birthday present to awaken.
"Daddy?" a weak voice asked blearily, about twenty minutes later.
The man looked down to see unfocused eyes looking up at him. He smiled back.
She shook her head side to side and suddenly stiffened.
"Ahh! I mean Master!" she said bolting upright.
"Ahh!" she cried as she put weight on her wounded posterior.
She bounded to her feet, for a moment it seemed she was about to fall back over, but she somehow managed to find her footing.
"Relax, don't worry about it baby girl." the man said, smiling and patting her head from where he sat.
Lunch preparations were resumed and eaten. The rest of the afternoon and then dinner passing without major incident, the man continuing to leisurely enjoy his day and his daughter. The red sky outside the window was steadily dimming, and the man sat sprawled on couch. His daughter lay lengthwise across the couch, her head in his lap. She had her mouth around his rapidly deflating dick, cleaning him off after having just blown him as he watched some evening television. When she finished she let the dick drop from her mouth and laid her head on her father's thigh. The pair stayed like this, the man gently stroking his daughter's head, until the episode finished.
The man turned off the tv, just sitting their for several minutes, his daughter's warm breath tickling his thigh.
"Thank you." the man said. "I don't think I've enjoyed a birthday like this since I was your age, maybe not even then."
The girl twisted around to look up at him and smiled.
"You're welcome Da-, Master." she replied.
"I know it's a little early, but I think it's about time for me to head to bed, I haven't fucked like this since college, and your dad was a lot more fit back then." He said, poking his stomach with chuckle.
The girl looked up at him, expression a little forlorn. The man could guess what was bothering her. He smiled and patted her head.
"Tomorrow you'll be back to just being my daughter, but I'm sure we'll be fucking even more than before, and now that we've both had a taste I'm sure we'll find an excuse to get you in the basement every now and then too." the man chuckled.
She didn't respond, her face screwing up into a deeply contemplative expression, the girl apparently thinking very hard about something. A full body shiver went up her body and her face relaxed for a moment before hardening into an expression of determination. A tremble of her lip and eyebrows belied her nerves, but whatever she had been thinking about, it seemed she had reached a decision.
She pushed herself up from the couch, wincing as her back tightened. She walked over to the entrance to the hall and turned around to face her father. The man admired his beautiful daughter as she stood there, seemingly working up to say or do something, her hard nipples quite plain to see through the bandages wrapping her chest. The man said nothing, patiently waiting for his daughter to gather her nerves.
She took a deep breath and reached her hand out to her side, resting her palm on the side of an expensive vase sitting on a pedestal. A long moment passed, father and daughter staring at each other with bated breath, and then she pushed.
The vase fell to the ground and shattered. The third strike.
The man rose from the couch. He thought he was completely tapped out, that he'd need one, maybe even two, full nights rest before he would even think about seeking relief from a maid, but as he followed his daughter out of the room he felt his blood begin to rush and he began to stiffen once more.
There was many different ways that the man liked to punish his errant maids. Generally, each subsequent strike was met with a harsher punishment than the last, but beyond simply being the harshest of all the third strike also had a defining theme. The third strike, the point at which a maid has thoroughly demonstrated that she no longer had any redeeming value as an employee of this household. She has proven herself so incompetent that her only remaining value was that of the meat on her bones.
The pair arrived at the kitchen and the girl began to disrobe. She winced as the bandages she was unwinding stuck to her wounds. She then slowly removed her clothes, not so suggestively as to be a strip tease, but definitely with the appreciation of her audience in mind. She folded her scant uniform neatly, placing it on a counter, and tossed her bandages into a waste bin. She then busied herself about the kitchen, preparing the necessary implements. The man watched as her naked body rushed to and fro, taking a brief moment to disrobe himself, throbbing erection pointing sky high.
She briefly washed herself in the large sink basin, suppressing a strangled cry as she gingerly rinsed her back. She dried off, than walked to the center of the kitchen where she hopped up onto the island, squeaking as her battered ass landed on the chilly steel. She stared at her father, shivering as she waited.
He approached. He draped one arm across her shoulders, steadying her trembling body as he lent her back. With the other he grabbed the knife his daughter had prepared and lined it up just below her sternum.
The girl stared transfixed at the knife, nearly hyperventilating, her nipples dancing mesmerisingly through the air as her chest heaved.
"We don't have to go any further than this. You've already made this day more special than I could have ever imagined." the man said, speaking the first words between the pair since she had pushed over the vase.
She looked up from the knife, gazing deep into her father's eyes, her breathing calming slightly as she stared for a long moment.
"Do it daddy." she said.
The man plunged the knife forward, leaning down and preemptively cutting off the girls scream with a kiss as her eye's went wide.
The man pulled back when he tasted blood. The girl heaved, bloody spittle spraying down her front. The man began to saw the knife downward, careful not to cut too deep, easily parting her abdominal muscles, bisecting her belly button and ending a few inches above her pubic bone. The girl mouth was opened as if she was screaming, but no noise came out, the shock stunning her. The man pulled the girl open, exposing her insides, and then began to remove the contents, plopping them into buckets, separating the useful bits from the waste. He moved with deft, practiced motions, but also with a edge of frenzy, his face looking like that of a madman and his erection throbbing visibly as he cut connections and removed organs.
The girl was starting to become visibly paler, save for her face which remained as flushed as ever. It seemed that she had become somewhat accustomed to the level of pain and her hand snaked its way toward her clit. She withdrew most of it with a sudden yelp, her father had swiped at it with the knife, sending half of a pinky finger flying away. She pouted at her father to which he replied with a crazed grin and grabbed his dick.
It seemed that everything that could be removed without triggering a premature death had been, and the man lined up his cock with his daughters pussy. There was a short pause of bated breath as the pair stared into each others eyes, but they didn't have time to waste and the man plunged forward.
The girl moaned and gasped in pain and pleasure as her father fucked her. The experience was rather different without the girl's organs providing internal pressure and holding everything in place, and the man seemed to find the sensation less than satisfying. He grabbed the girls hand, and thrust into the girls abdomen, wrapping it around the outside of her vaginal tube. She quickly understood his intent, and the man withdrew his hand, enjoying the novelty of his daughter's combined fuck/hand-job.
The man was close and could sense his daughter was too. He stuck a cutting board under the shoulder of the girl's unoccupied arm and grabbed a large cleaver, waiting for the right moment. He brought down the cleaver just as his daughter's orgasmic cry was starting to build, her arm falling limply to the counter. Her orgasmic cry became an orgasmic scream, her eye's shot wide and her entire body seized, including what vaginal muscles still could, as well as her fist. The man felt he might nearly be crushed as his daughter's hand squeezed their combined genitals, and he began to cum as well, cum shooting through the girl's cervix and landing on her excavated insides, her womb having already been removed.
The man was still rock hard, he had never been this aroused in his entire life, even when he was a young boy full to the brim of hormones and with his free pick of the ladies. He resumed thrusting his hips, gritting his teeth and powering through his post orgasm oversensitivy. His daughter was losing blood fast and he had no time to spare.
He quickly moved the cutting board to her other shoulder and hewed her remaining arm from her body. She came again, raw, impassioned scream echoing through the kitchen. The man roughly grabbed her torso and rotated her onto her side, one leg dangling between his and one resting on his shoulder as he fucked her. He grabbed a saw a began feverishly sawing at her leg. He quickly realized it would be easy to injure himself when he cut through and looked about for a solution. He grabbed a baking sheet and jammed it between his daughter's leg and his lower body, one arm holding her leg tightly to him, keeping both it and the baking sheet in place, and with the other he began sawing with renewed vigor. His daughter howled in euphoric bliss as he sawed, only stopping to finally breath in when the limb finally fell to the ground, saw clanging against the baking sheet. The man quickly flipped her over, repeating the process on her last remaining limb, the man spraying his seed inside her one last time as it too fell from her body.
The two parted, breathing heavily and staring lovingly at each other. The girl's face was ashen, her excitement no longer able to overcome her rapid blood loss.
The man grabbed a long thin knife and once more positioned the girl as they had started, with her leaning on his shoulder while he aimed a knife at her.
"Thank you, this has been the most amazing birthday, I will never forget it as long as I live." the man said.
"You're welcome, and thank you Daddy." the girl replied with a weak smile.
The man leaned down, joining their lips in a kiss as he slid the knife between her ribs and into her heart. Through their joined lips her felt her shudder for a moment, and then still. He sunk to the floor, sitting their for several minutes, holding his daughter's limbless torso tightly to his own.
Eventually he rose. He had never blown his load so many times in one day and he was starting to feel quite chafed, but he was still at least half hard and knew he would regret it if he didn't indulge one final time in his daughter's body. He spent several minutes enjoying all three of her holes before shooting his final offering of gratitude through her cervix and onto her abdominal walls.
The man began to butcher his daughter's carcass. Usually once the game was dead and he had had his fun he would leave the rest of the butchering to one of his maids, but he felt he owed it to his daughter and so he dusted off his rusted skills and got to work. In short order his daughter's body was reduced to cuts of meat and packaged for storage. He was exhausted and it was late but the man delayed rest once more to cook and enjoy a couple strips of bacon and a small portion of her womb.
He polished off the simple snack, feeling it was more delicious than the most gourmet meal he had ever eaten.
As he left the room he passed a maid standing near the entrance holding a mop and bucket in hand. The maids had stayed in the periphery most of the day, leaving the man's daughter to handle the more personal maidly duties, but that policy seemed to have expired when his daughter had.
The man took a brief shower, washing the blood off. As the cool water rained down on his head and shoulders the man thought about the day's events. The man had found his daughter supremely sexy for quite some time, and he had always enjoyed her company, both sexually and platonically. He had also long enjoyed doing terribly destructive things to women, especially when they were as eager and aroused by the experience as he was. It had taken him quite by surprise though just how much more he had been turned on by combining the two, torturing and killing a girl he loved more deeply than any other, a girl he had raised himself since she was just a babe. He found it extremely regrettable that he had only ever had the one child, her mother dying a little more than a year after she was born. Over the years he had gotten a few of his maids pregnant. He had enjoyed the fresh milk and the novelty of their round bellies while it lasted, but somehow it seemed each and every one of them had managed to accrue a third strike before ever having a chance to give birth. That, the man thought to himself as he toweled himself dry, was a policy he would have to re-think.