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.