Moving In With DaddyChapter 2 free porn video

May 12, 2020

Back in March I dreaded the very thought of moving in with my father. We’d never been able to get along and we had such a toxic relationship throughout my teen years after my mother’s death. I thought that being forced to live with my father throughout the lockdown of this horrible pandemic would be a tedious, monotonous period of my life that I’d somehow just have to get through before I could move out and have my freedom again. However, none of my worst fears were realized.

We began an incestuous relationship that changed my life in so many different ways. He was open and nurturing; he doted on me and treated me like his loving wife. Conversely, we also began a sexual relationship like I’d never experienced before. His easy-going, generous nature was a sharp contrast to how he treated me inside the bedroom. He was very aggressive and demanding with me sexually and often pushed me outside of my comfort zone. However, no matter what he asked of me or how hard he pushed me, I was completely devoted to him. More than anything, I wanted to please him and I hoped to fill the void in his life from my mother’s passing.

I was lounging on the living room sofa, wearing nothing except an oversized T-shirt and a little thong, when the doorbell rang. When I opened the door a UPS van was pulling away and I saw that he’d left three large boxes. Daddy joined me and I helped him carry the boxes to one of our guest bedrooms. It was a large room; even with a king-size bed and a pair of nightstands on the wall opposite the entry and a triple dresser along one of the side walls there was a large open space between the foot of the bed and the doorway. We set the boxes in the center of that open area.

“What is all this?” I asked my father.

“Your mother liked some kinds of BDSM play,” he replied, “and you certainly enjoyed being spanked and some rougher sex. So I decided to get some equipment to see what works for us. I wasn’t concerned about costs, and I guess I went a little overboard; I ordered a lot of different things to try on you.” He briefly paused. “This bedroom is now going to be our playroom.”

I felt a shiver run up and down my spine while he talked and I felt those little tell-tale signs emanating from between my legs as my arousal grew. He was right that I enjoyed rough sex, and I’d also discovered that it was very erotic to me when he spanked me. He was the first man I ever let restrain me, and that took our sexual activities to a whole new level. I had to admit the truth, it was also a little bit scary walking down this dark path with him, but I trusted him implicitly. Regardless, I couldn’t wait to see what he’d bought.

“Go out to the garage and get my toolbox,” he directed. “I’ll need some tools to assemble a couple of pieces of equipment.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I answered. I shivered again, and this time it was definitely from arousal. My thong was becoming wet. When Daddy used that commanding tone I knew he was taking charge of me in his dominant way and I was completely willing to be under his control. I turned and left the room, and as I did I felt moisture on my inner thighs.

When I returned with the toolbox I saw several orange plastic Home Depot bags next to the boxes. “More stuff?” I inquired.

“Yes, another delivery,” he said. “You’ll see some of it as we proceed.”

Daddy opened one of the boxes, and I held parts in place while he quickly assembled what looked like what gymnasts call a high bar. After he positioned it in the center of the space he turned to me.

“This is called a bondage frame,” he explained. “I could have gotten a St. Andrew’s cross, the one that looks like a tall letter X, but I got this instead. I liked the idea that I could walk completely around it without having to change your position. Go put on some heels so I can get the height set right.”

I left the room again and returned wearing a pair of my four-inch stiletto pumps. Daddy stood me almost directly under the frame, I could look up and see the bar not quite over my head, and then he told me to raise my arms.

While I did so, he opened another of the boxes and took out a strange-looking pair of cuffs. I’d seen leather wrist and ankle cuffs, but these were different. He walked over to me and held them up so I could examine them.

“These are called suspension cuffs,” he said. “As you can see, they wrap around your wrists, but they have this handle so you can grab onto them and relieve any strain on your wrists or shoulders. Now hold out your hands so I can fasten them.”

I did as he directed, and he fastened the cuffs onto my wrists. Then he went to the Home Depot bags and withdrew a spool of chrome-colored chain and two kinds of connectors. He attached an openable link between the top arc of each cuff and the bottom ring of the second kind of connector. Then he attached the end of the chain to one of the top corner rings on the bondage frame.

“This special kind of connector is used a lot in boating,” he told me. “Unlike the link or other kinds of connectors, this one can be opened under tension, so even if your weight is pulling on the chain I can open it and get you down from the frame.”

“Okay, Daddy, that’s good to know.”

“Your safety is very important to me, Kenna, and I’m telling you this because I want you to feel safe, not just be safe.”

I was touched by his concern for my well-being and he appeared to be taking this so seriously.

“Spread your feet apart and raise your hands up,” he commanded. When I had done so, he attached the toggle part of the connector to one of the links so my arm was slightly bent at the elbow. Next he went back to the bags, picked up a pair of bolt cutters, and cut the link just below where the toggle was attached. Then he counted the links in that chain and cut a second chain of the same length from the spool. When he had finished attaching that second chain the same way to the other top corner of the frame I was standing more-or-less spread-eagled within the frame.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Comfortable, Sir,” I told him. I felt it was time to really get my head into the right space. “And horny.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes, really,” I replied. “Just thinking about how vulnerable I am in this position makes me wet.”

“Do you like that feeling?”

“Definitely,” I said honestly. “I want to experience whatever you have in mind for me, for us.”

“Oh, you will,” he assured me. “But let’s get the other piece of equipment I bought set up first.”

I could smell myself now and I wondered if he could smell me as well. My secretions were slowly oozing down my inner thighs and we really hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t touched me and we hadn’t done anything sexual, but just being in the cuffs and looking at this device my mind ran wild with possibilities of what our evenings would now hold.

Daddy reached up and unsnapped the toggles, and when I’d lowered my arms he removed the suspension cuffs. Then he opened the remaining box and we assembled a platform-like arrangement with two small padded benches attached.

“This is called, for obvious reasons, a spanking bench,” Daddy said. He reached into the box from which he’d gotten the suspension cuffs and took out a pair each of ordinary wrist and ankle cuffs. “Come over to the bed and put your foot up on the mattress,” he commanded.

He walked with me to the foot of the bed carrying both sets of cuffs. Holding his shoulder for balance, I put the toe of my right shoe up, pressing the heel into the side of the mattress for stability. He fastened one of the ankle cuffs on me and then had me switch legs so he could put the other ankle cuff on as well. When that was completed and I was again standing on both feet he put the wrist cuffs on me. I’d been getting steadily wetter while all this was happening, and what Daddy said next had me dripping wet.

“Okay, let’s try it out,” Daddy said. “Stand with your feet outside the legs on one end of the bench and grab the legs on the other side.” He picked up four double-ended snap bolts and attached the D-ring on each cuff to its bench leg.

When he finished I was immobilized with my butt in the air in a perfect spanking position. I looked back over my shoulder and watched as he picked up a paddle and moved to stand behind me and to one side. It was shaped like a ping-pong paddle, but I could see that one side was covered in some kind of fur-like material.

“Did you play like this with my mother?” I asked him shyly.

“Sometimes,” he answered. “Do you want to be like her?”

“I want to be more like her than she was,” I whispered. “I want more of what she had than she ever did.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m very sure. I want to be everything you’ve ever wanted; more than anything, I want to please you.”

A little smile broke over his face, but he didn’t say anything more. He flipped the hem of my T-shirt up to my waist, then raised his hand and brought the fur-covered side of the paddle down onto my left cheek. It was a gentle hit, and I hummed as he slid the fur around in a circle. He swatted my right cheek, again with the fur side, and I slowly swayed my hips back and forth and hummed again. Then I felt a stronger strike across both cheeks that stung a bit; he must have rotated the paddle. But it felt very good, and my juices began to soak my inner thighs in earnest.

He hit me several more times with the paddle and then he walked around the bench and showed me a different paddle, this one wooden. My eyes widened in surprise and a little bit of fear; I knew the wood would sting a lot more than the leather.

Daddy walked back behind me and swatted me, and I yelped in pain. “Ooowww,” I cried. But he ignored me and hit me again, and as the warmth spread across my butt the pain became mixed with pleasurable heat. After several strikes I felt his fingers slide across my perineum and into my pussy, and I gasped with pleasure as he moved his fingers in and out and rubbed my swollen clit with his thumb. I hadn’t realized I was so close, but when he rubbed my clit harder my body went weak and convulsed in a powerful orgasm.

“Very good, Kenna,” he said softly. “I guess you like this arrangement.”

It took me a few moments to catch my breath and recover. “I really love it,” I answered in an equally quiet tone. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“I love playing with your body and seeing how you respond to me,” he said. “We have a lot more things to try. But for now, I have another plan.” He unhooked my cuffs from the bench legs and helped me stand up, then led me to where the box with the BDSM toys and the Home Depot bags still rested on the floor.

“I purchased a couple of things to help you remember your place,” he said when we stood facing each other.

“I know my place, Daddy. My place is wherever, however, whenever you want me.”

“Yes, sweetheart, but I want you to always be aware of your submission.” He momentarily paused, which created a little dramatic effect. “You’re owned and my possession, my property, now.” He reached into the box and pulled out a leather collar. “Turn around.”

I did, and he fastened the black leather collar around my neck. It had a large metal loop in the front, and I wondered what the significance of the loop was but decided against asking him. “You’ll wear this in the house, and outside when I deem it’s appropriate.”

“Yes, Sir,” I responded.

He reached into one of the bags and brought out another spool of chain, this time the kind of black-colored decorative stuff that people use to hang flower baskets and swag lamps.

“I would have gotten a lighter, more attractive chain, but they only sell that kind by the foot and chain by the foot can’t be delivered,” he told me. “Hold this end of it tight against your belly.”

I held the end of the chain while he wrapped it around my body, low on my hips. Then he picked up another of the openable links, pulled the chain snug, and connected the end I’d been holding to the part coming around me. He let the chain hang down, then took the bolt cutters and cut it off so the loose end was about four inches below my crotch.

“Walk around the room,” he ordered, and as I did the chain swung back and forth, brushing across my pussy each time my hips moved and my weight shifted from walking in the high heels. It was a constant turn-on, and when I stopped moving the chain swung between my legs and the end slapped against my asshole.

“It’s ... it’s ... I can’t even describe it,” I whispered. Wearing that chain was going to keep me in a constant state of arousal; I knew I would be completely ready for anything he wanted from me, which no doubt was the idea.

“This is another part of you knowing your place,” he said. “You’re going to be my complete slut, ready for anything at any time.”

“I thought I was ready before,” I replied, “but this combination, the collar and the chain, is psychological as well as physical; it’s taking me to a whole other level of arousal, both mentally and physically.”

“That’s what I was hoping for, Kenna. I’m going to push you as far as you can go.”

“I want you to, Daddy. I love you, now more than ever, and I want to be totally yours.”

He removed my wrist and ankle cuffs and then took my hand and led me away.

My father led me into what I’d started to think of as our playroom and had me stand under the bondage frame. We’d had a light supper and then he’d taken me into his arms and kissed me, lightly at first and then with increasing intensity, running his hands over my body and through my hair. By the time he broke the kiss I had become seriously aroused and had to catch my breath. Then he’d sent me to our bedroom to undress and put on my highest heels, so I’d known we were going to be doing a real SM scene.

When I returned to the playroom, I saw that my father had laid out an array of implements on the dresser. “Do you remember your safewords, Kenna?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir, I do. I don’t expect to need them, but I know what they are, yellow to slow down and red to stop.”

“I hope you won’t feel the need to say one of them, but if you do, don’t hesitate.”

“I won’t, Sir.”

“Good.” He stood me under the bondage frame, and after he fastened the suspension cuffs around my wrists and put on my leather ankle cuffs he brought over a foam-wrapped rod that was about two feet long. It had a ring at each end, and he’d attached double-ended toggle bolts to each ring.

“This is called a spreader bar,” he said, “so spread your feet apart.” I did, and he proceeded to attach the snap bolts to the D-rings on my ankle cuffs. I was now in a restrained spread-eagle position with my legs wide apart and my entire body accessible to him. Just thinking about what might happen next had my pussy hot and wet.

Next he picked up one of the floggers he’d purchased. He pushed my long blonde locks over my shoulders so they draped my breasts and left my back completely bare, then started to whip me. The strikes were light at first, several on my upper back, across my shoulder blades, and then several on my butt. I could feel my skin becoming warm from the repeated hits, but the smooth steady swats were also very relaxing and sensual; my body’s involuntary reaction was a slow swaying of my hips from side to side as he gradually increased the intensity of the flogging.

Every couple of minutes he would stop flogging me long enough to slide the fall of the flogger across my skin in a very sensual way, and each time he did that I hummed and moaned in delight. Then he would resume and repeat his alternating pattern. After maybe ten minutes of this warm-up, he stopped the flogging. I was feeling all warm and loving, and then he surprised me. He swung the flogger up between my legs; the tails of the fall slapped lightly against my pussy and I moaned when they hit my engorged clit.

“Oh, God, that feels nice,” I whispered.

“Good,” he replied. “Now we’ll go to the next level.” He walked back to the dresser, set down the flogger, and picked up a pair of clamps. Each clamp had a set-screw to control how much they closed, and at first I thought there was a solid rod attached to each one. But then he removed what had looked like a rod and I saw it was actually a series of disks held to each other and to the clamps magnetically.

My nipples were already semi-erect, but he teased them into total rigidity with his fingers. After that, he slowly placed each clamp and allowed it to tighten until I drew a deep breath and winced from the pain. Then he set the screws so they wouldn’t tighten further and stepped back to admire the view.

“You look beautiful, Kenna,” he said.

“I’m glad you think so, Daddy. I want to please you, always and in all ways.”

“You do, sweetheart, and you will, I’m sure of that.”

I bowed my head, proud of his compliments. Then I watched through lowered lids as he walked back to the dresser to retrieve a riding crop.

He walked around me several times, tapping the business end of the crop on my ass, my thighs, my belly, and even my breasts, which caused them to move and make the clamps dance around, increasing the pain I was feeling. Then he started striking my ass more seriously; I cried out and involuntarily moved my body in an attempt to avoid the strikes, but the restraints held true and prevented much movement.

“Ooowww, that hurts, Daddy,” I whimpered.

“I know, but it will get better very soon.”

I didn’t know what he meant by that, but then he took one of the metal disks in each hand and I heard two distinct click sounds as they clung to the bottoms of the clamps. The added weight wasn’t all that much, but it still increased my discomfort.

Daddy hit me with the crop again, and I suddenly felt a rush of pleasure as my endorphins kicked in. My body’s natural hormonal response to pain was a wonderful feeling, and I moaned and groaned with the warmth of the sensations. He added another weight to each clamp, but now the pain was just part of the pleasure, and when he reached around and slapped the crop onto my clit I came, a small one but an orgasm nevertheless.

“Oh, God, that’s so good,” I murmured.

“I told you it would get better,” he said with a smile. “Now we can really play.”

He resumed hitting me with the crop, aiming for the backs and insides of my thighs as well as my ass cheeks, and every few strikes he added another weight to the clamps until they each had all six of them. I groaned each time another weight clicked on, but they really weren’t so terrible; my endorphin rush just kept building and I was processing all the pain into increasingly intense pleasure.

I was dripping wet and feeling really horny, like I needed a big release, when my father landed one final shot. He swung the rod of the crop up between my legs to strike me on the perineum, that tender, very sensitive spot between my pussy and my asshole. It wasn’t a terribly hard blow, but I howled when the pain hit. Then he kissed me and fingered my stiff clit, and the pleasure overwhelmed the pain and a powerful orgram consumed my body. He pressed his mouth to mine and I kissed him back urgently, trying to convey my still-strong desire with the forcefulness of my lips and tongue.

After about a minute he broke the kiss and started to remove the clamps, and the pain I felt when the blood flooded back into my nipples was worse than what I’d felt from the clamps. But he took each tender nipple into his mouth and soothed it with light tongue-lashes, and I melted into the gentle, loving attention.

His next escalation was a return to the flogger, this time on the front of my body. He started on the front of my thighs, just above my knees, and slowly worked his way upward. As the flogger went higher he began to also hit the soft insides of my thighs, and I realized that it was inevitable where he would eventually be hitting me.

“No, please, Daddy, not there,” I begged.

He lowered the flogger. “Do you want to use your safe word?” he asked.

I thought about it, I really did. But in the end my love for my father and my trust in him to not injure me was stronger than my fear. I wanted to please him, and if this was what he wanted me to take I would just accept it.

“No,” I whispered.

He didn’t respond with words, he simply took his arm back and slammed the flogger into my pussy.

I screamed, but he just kept going, hitting me again and again, and suddenly the tails of the flogger landed squarely on my clit and my body went weak as another powerful orgasm suffused my entire being.

He took my naked body in his arms and I twisted myself as much as I could in the restraints, trying to mold my body to his. He dropped one hand to my bottom, forcing me against his erection as he gripped my breast with his other hand. But this time he took my sore nipple between his thumb and forefinger and he started to squeeze it, harder and harder. I moaned, writhing against him, trying to rub against his cock to make him want to use it in me. But he resisted and eventually broke away.

My face was flushed and my large breasts were heaving with each labored breath I took. “Please, Daddy,” I begged. I gripped the handles of the suspension cuffs; despite the orgasms I’d had earlier in the scene and the one I’d just enjoyed I was still incredibly horny, and my need for him was almost beyond explanation.

He walked over to the dresser and picked up the cane he’d placed there.

When he came back to me he stroked my naked back and bottom with it while I looked at him apprehensively over my shoulder. Then he ran it slowly up the insides of my open thighs, finding my labia with the tip. I shuddered and bit my bottom lip.

“You want me to do this, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked softly, still stroking my body with the cane.

There was a slight moment of hesitation, but then my lust-crazed mind took over. “Yes, Daddy ... yes ... I want this,” I gasped. I was more than a little scared, but I also was extremely turned on. I felt incredibly submissive, and I was confident that my father would give me pleasure along with the pain.

“I’m thinking ... five, sweetheart. How does that sound?” His voice was even softer, caressing my mind.

“I don’t know ... whatever you say, I love you so much.”

“I want you to count each strike,” he told me.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied.

I heard the cane swish through the air, and then it hit hard on my ass. “Ohhh, Goddd, that hurts,” I said between gnashed teeth. Then I added, “One, Sir.”

“I know it hurt,” he whispered. “But it’ll feel better soon.”

He picked up the hand mirror from the dresser and held it so I could see my butt over my shoulder. I saw there was a pair of narrowly-spaced bright red lines across my cheeks.

“According to what I’ve read online, that’s the signature result of a cane strike,” my father said.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“Yes, it is,” he said, and he stroked my body with the cane again. I shuddered in anticipation, and then he hit me a second time.

I gasped, and then I cried out, and then I whispered, “Two, Sir.” The pain was intense, but he caressed my bottom before slipping his fingers between my legs. I was dripping wet, and he put his fingers into me, finding my clitoris with his thumb. I moaned as the pleasure sensations washed away the worst of the pain.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, still fondling me.

I looked at him, my eyes brimming with tears, and shook my head.

When the third strike hit my body jerked and I screamed again. My arms pulled against the restraints, but I relished them for keeping me steady on my stiletto heels. He ran his hand over my body, stroking my back and my heaving breasts. Then he kissed me, and I responded feverishly, my mouth open and my tongue searching for his. Then he pulled away, and I looked at him with a pleading expression on my face.

“Three, Sir, and I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“I think you can take the last two, Kenna. Be strong for me.”

“I’ll try, Daddy.”

After the fourth strike hit I just groaned; I was hoarse from all the screaming I’d done, but I managed to croak out, “Four, Sir.”

Daddy inserted the tip of the cane into my vagina, fucking me gently with it for a few seconds, and the pain dissolved into a rush of wonderful feelings; my endorphins had really kicked in and I was rapidly climbing closer to a massive orgasm. “Oh, God, Daddy, oh, God, oh, God, please, please, I need to come so bad...”

“One more, sweetheart. You don’t have to count the last one. I want you to concentrate and focus on the pain, then come hard for me.”

Thank God.

He slipped two fingers into my pussy, curling them toward my G-spot, and his thumb stayed on my throbbing clit. Then, just as I started to release, the cane came crashing across my sore ass, a harder hit than any before.

“Eeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhh,” I wailed as thunderous waves of exquisite sensations washed over me. He had timed everything perfectly; the combination of pain from the cane, the clit stimulation, and the G-spot manipulation sent me beyond anything I’d ever experienced and through a series of orgasms that were almost indescribable. Each time the sensations started to fade he would do something different; once he bent down and took my stiff nipple into his mouth, and when he bit me I blasted off again. I saw stars behind my closed eyelids and I fought against the impending blackness, determined to not miss a moment of this incredible experience.

He must have dropped the cane, because I felt soft fur sliding gently across my sore behind, and that soothing just made the feelings even better. My knees buckled, but the cuffs held me up, and then I felt my father’s arm around my waist, supporting me, as he continued to give me the most amazing orgasms, one after the other in what seemed like a never-ending tide of blissful pleasure.

When I started to come down from that amazing high and returned to my senses, my pent-up desires finally sated, my father was releasing me from the bondage frame. He half-led, half-carried me to the bed; my legs were weak and I couldn’t steady myself. When we got to the bed Daddy laid me down on my side and then lay next to me on his back. He put an arm under my neck and I snuggled into him, pressing my still-tender breast and nipple into his ribs.

“‘Daddy,” I whispered, “that was the most amazing experience I could ever imagine. I love you so much, and I’m yours now more than ever.”

I’m so glad it was so good for you, Kenna. I really enjoyed bringing you to that pinnacle of pleasure.”

“It’s your turn now,” I said. “How can I serve you?”

“Even though I’m incredibly turned on and ready to come, I’m actually feeling drained,” he replied, “and I’m pretty sure you don’t have a lot of energy at the moment. So I have an idea.”

“What’s your idea?” I asked.

“I want you to get on top of me and put me inside you,” he said. “Then I don’t want you to move your body at all. The brain is the most powerful sex organ, so I want you to talk to me, to use your internal muscles and your words to make me come.”

It was an interesting idea. “Do you really believe that’s possible?”

“I do,” he replied, “and we’re about to find out.”

“Okay,” I said, “let’s try this.” I rolled onto him, then raised my hips and slid him into my still-sopping pussy. Then I hesitated, because I didn’t know what to say or how to begin.

He must have realized my plight, because he said, “Just let your inner slut come out,” he told me. “Tell me what you think I’d like to hear.”

I thought for a moment, then squeezed his cock with my vaginal muscles and started whispering into his ear. “What you said was true, Daddy, I am a slut. I can’t wait for this pandemic to be over so I can show you just how slutty I can be.”

I started rhythmically squeezing the muscles in my vagina while I continued talking. “You want to watch me be that way, don’t you, Daddy?” He nodded, so I kept going along that line. “You want to display me and show others how submissive I am for you, how I’ll do anything you tell me to.” He nodded again. “Would you like to see me air-tight, Daddy, taking three guys in all my openings at once? I’ve got two hands also, how about five guys at once?”

His breathing was getting faster and shallower and I felt his cock twitch, so I knew I was on the right track. “I’ve seen some porn where a girl is kneeling inside a circle of guys and they all jerk off on her,” I said next. “The titles of the videos all had the word Bukkake in them; would you like to see your slutty daughter coated in semen at a Bukkake party, Daddy? Would you like to see me covered in cum, my face and hair coated, my entire body dripping with the semen of dozens of guys?”

“Oh, yes,” he whispered, and then he groaned when I squeezed and milked his cock harder with my pussy. “How about watching me in a gang-bang, Daddy? Ten guys, one after the other? Fifteen? Twenty? I’ll do as many as it takes to please you.”

That did it. He moaned, then pushed his hips up and started shooting deep into me. I kissed him passionately as he spurted thick heavy jets of semen into my pussy.