qingyi

A few hours later, Sarah once again slipped into her father’s room. She only felt slightly guilty doing so, after all he said that was basically the same as giving consent, right? As the night before he was softly snoring under the machine attached to his face and was laid out flat on his back. She crept around to the side of the bed and stared at him. It was just a light white sheet spread out over her dad’s naked body. In the moonlight she could out the outline of his body easily. Though right now all she could focus on was his dick. She could see the lump right there, a small round bump right below his belly. She bit her lip apprehensively.

Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I'd never been in before, with... things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn't even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.

“And... this was the 'magic trick' Daddy saw you doing? This is why he started fucking you?” she asked in disbelief.