San Giorgio Maggiore; Venice, Italy—2, April 2001
At last, he had Trish.
Diavolo was beyond satisfied to see that his choice in Buccellati and the whole of Squadra Guardie del corpo as her transporter was the correct one.
Now he knew that his final order to his squad—to deliver Trish to him at the cathedral soon after exiting the dock at San Giorgio Maggiore—would indeed be his last. Perhaps Buccellati saw it as a slight. He and his team after all, had gone through numerous challenges in order to reach the island.
Squadra Esecuzioni turned out to be a blemish he had every intention to stomp. Luckily, every single one of its members had perished within the first two days as a result of their rebellion. Their capo, Risotto Nero, was all that was left of it, and he had the intention to deal with him personally.
But not now. The only thing he would allow himself to be concerned with was his own securing of Trish and himself, back to his hideout. And in this, he had wasted no time. He was once again situated at a hotel which he booked for the next five days. He stayed at these places for only six days at most, and he typically went off to the next one even sooner than that.
However, he had Trish with him now, so there was a good reason that he wanted to remain in this room for the next six days. Not only that, but with the deaths of almost the entirety of Squadra Esecuzioni, it left him with much more time to…unwind.
He was seated at the room's vanity now, serving now as his work desk more than anything. After sending out an email of gratitude to Buccellati, he looked behind himself at the queen-sized bed, where Trish was lying.
She wore the same garments that she wore for the few days since accompanying Squadra Gaurdie del corpo, but this was news for Diavolo, who stared at the provocative attire with distain. At the end of the day, he was her father, even though…he was soon to be crossing that sacred boundary.
Diavolo had many secrets he felt worth keeping and guarding with every fiber of his being. The obvious one was his past. One could look upon all the trouble he had recently experienced with all the infighting since Donatella's death to see why this was of major concern for him. But there were other secrets of his which were even more personal. Some of them, like his sexual desires, he reigned in as best as he could. After the trouble he has gone through thus far, as well as what he will continue to go through with weeding out Risotto, he needed a release finally.
The thing is—Cioccolata, a member of his Unita Speciale, was not the only one who had severely perverse skeletons in his closet. Diavolo did as well. Perhaps it was for this reason that he looked down on Cioccolata so, because he understood that at least in some way, sexually, they had some things in common.
It was around late November of 1999 when Diavolo made a discovery regarding Cioccolata, when he had decided to conduct an investigation of his past. The man had always rubbed him the wrong way, just something about him. His series of investigations on him revealed to Diavolo not only his twisted past, but that he was, presently, still very twisted. During his last and final investigation, his men had discovered that Cioccolata was housing two women in his cellar in what looked like a recreated medieval dungeon.
All details aside, he knew more than enough about him, given his past, to piece together what he was doing to the women; as they also appeared to be in bondage.
Indeed, he wished that he could kill Cioccolata, along with his human pet…but he was so powerful, his strongest hand in the organization…he knew it would be easier said than done. Instead, Diavolo dealt with him the only way he knew how. By keeping him as busy as possible. In addition to already having gave him one of the highest honors in the organization, he had granted the man a promotion in making him the capo of Squadra del traffico sessuale.
Diavolo knew for a fact that Cioccolata's loyalty was questionable. He didn't trust him in the slightest. Despite his employment under him, he was waiting for the day that the blade would fall between them. And if he knew that slimy fuck well, all this commotion within the organization must have had him riled up—it was bound to happen. This was an enemy of Diavolo, a real threat to his throne who he intentionally kept close surveillance on, however possible.
And ever since that day that he pieced together Cioccolata's…paraphilias…he couldn't help but become increasingly curious about his own.
…He was already getting angry just thinking about him.
"Cioccolata…what a piece of shit…psychotic, perverted fuck-face…" His husky voice grew gruffer upon each syllable.
This man ruffled Diavolo's feathers. One might think that it's telling that a man such as himself, who is himself known to be brutal, could think such a thing about Cioccolata.
Ironic as it was, it was all the same not exactly in what would be expected…
It was because the two men had a lot more in common than what one might think. Indeed, while they could be seen as a foil between one another, in reality, much more was closer to home. They both were murderers—though both with very different styles. Diavolo considered murdering a necessary chore which he exercised without remorse whenever the situation called for it. For Cioccolata, it could hardly be called such a thing. The man seemed to live and revel in slaughter. Beyond this, they both had…troubling pasts, they were the same age, and they both had one daughter with an estranged mother. They even both shared a similarity in their paternal style—they were both dead-beats.
Diavolo hated being reminded of his past mistakes, and Cioccolata reminded him of them too much. He often compared his own history to what he knew of the man's all in an attempt to validate his own sins. Indeed, if he was not as sick as Cioccolata, surely, he was in the right!
And now, when he looked upon his knocked-out daughter on his bed, he thought the exact same thing.
Was what he would do to her really worse than what Cioccolata has done to who knows how many men and women? Or those women he had in his…dungeon?
But Cioccolata hasn't fucked his daughter…
His conscious nipped at him, but he willed it away. Surely, if his daughter was old enough, he would fuck her too! Nothing is beneath that man! Nothing at all!
But the thought was hardly a comfort as intended. It was to suggest that nothing at all could be beneath him as well, and he seethed at the thought.
He pushed his long red hair from his shoulder as he lifted himself quickly from his seat at the vanity. He was, right now, in the attire of his true identity—with the exception of his shoes that he had kicked off earlier.
He crawled onto the bed now, on top of Trish, peering down at her with a decided look of lust. He wasn't going to deny himself any longer. He had a strong appetency for daddy-dom-little girl play, and now, Trish was the perfect age. If he wasn't going to kill her then…this was the next best thing…
Yes, he did indeed initially believe he would kill his daughter. But after seeing those thick thighs barely hidden under the high slit skirt she wore, he had other plans. It awakened a primal sense in his long-abandoned fatherhood, as he held her in his arms on the island before retreating with her.
He cringed in his mind at the thought. Unlike the man whom he hated—he still had a quite strong moral conscious. Each "sin" he committed did weigh on him, yet it never stopped him from committing the act. And it wouldn't now.
I can't believe this shit…I really want to fuck my own daughter… his mind droned at him in disgust.
He spread her legs now, beholding quite effortlessly her black panties, and the undeniable cushion of her pussy lips behind the fabric.
He wasn't worried at all about her waking. You see, Cioccolata wasn't the only one who was into bondage. He had her wrists tied to each other, held above her head and secured by a rope that he arranged to the frame of the box spring. He found this to be the most convenient as the bed frame mechanics wouldn't quite easily allow for this set up.
He licked his lips as his heart sped in anticipation. She had an amazingly shapely body already, with long gorgeous legs that he had the honor of removing her brown, knee length boots from. The tube top she wore hardly left room to the imagination, only needing to be pulled up slightly to reveal what looked to be full B-cup sized breasts.
His dick was so engorged already now, that it grew uncomfortable under the fitted crotch of his deep purple jeans. He'd taken his belt off to relieve it some, but he knew what had to come next. Unzipping his fly, he relieved himself of his nine incher, and began jerking himself slowly as he lowered himself over Trish's crotch.
Granting himself a forbidden liberty, he pushed his daughter's panties to the side and began feasting on her pussy lips, pulling the smooth baby like skin between his black lips, teasing the tip of his tongue at her inner folds.
…He was doing this for a while, getting so into it that he lowered his body over her pelvis entirely; wrapping his firm grip at her outer thighs. He was absolutely adoring his daughter, trailing his lips against her sex with the shake of his head, enjoying the tastes of the forbidden fruits. Unfortunately for her, she was not even conscious to enjoy this luxury of his expert lips…yet.
He groaned into her gently as he continued eating her out, now as he fondled her breast, his hands having long slipped under the elastic band of her bandeau. He rolled her sweet nipples between the pads of his digits, manipulating them into hardening for him.
Spreading his leg out, he then felt the need to relieve himself of his jeans. He did so in somewhat of a haste, not imaging that the taste of Trish's pussy would entice him so. It left him hungry for more. When they were off, he leaned back down over her now with only his mostly bare chest save for his netted top, green wrist bands and now, a black G-string.
He resumed slurping her up with more vigor than before the brief interruption, now digging the tips of his long fingers into her exposed waist, murmuring into her heat, "Mmm…my daughter…"
The vibration of his low, masculine voice jolted through her clitoris like a vibrator, and it worked to awaken the girl to reality once more. Her breath caught in her throat to awaken to what she had, but quite literally, he took her breath away. A medium sized ball choker was already lodged below the roof of her mouth; her gasp silenced.
He needn't look up from his feast to ascertain that his daughter had awakened, he sensed the alertness of her spiritual energy, and knew she was now watching him. When he looked up to see the distress in her eyes, he was encouraged to lap his tongue past her labia and tease her right at the entrance. His tongue dallied here, and so did his green eyes.
The only thing that could make its way past her throat was demure moans, along with some futile pulling of her wrists. He felt her legs tense, and luckily, he had already anticipated what would happen next. No doubt, she was going to try to kick at him. But it was no matter for him; he had something for that ass—quite literally.
He reacquainted himself with his discarded green belt, at his side on the bed, then rapidly went to action.
"King Crimson…" he drawled in lust.
It was probably doing way too much. In fact, it really was. It was nothing for a grown man to overpower a teenage girl, but Diavolo just wanted to feel like a badass. He was.
Trish's soon to be thrashing turned into seemingly strained flexions through gravity as he then effortlessly pressed her thighs backward until her knees were pressed into her breast. With that, he secured his belt around her thighs; deliberately hooking the metal tightly. He leered at her smugly, now ordering time to resume once more within the ten seconds he took.
Trish hadn't a clue what just happened, why time felt as though it jumped and to suddenly find his belt so tightly strangling her thighs together. Her efforts still went on however, and she attempted to relieve her thighs off of her breast. Diavolo was already on top of her however, and he smashed her thighs back with a thud into her breast plate.
Her cries into the gag grew more hysteric as the weight of his hips pinned her harder into the mattress and his bare hardened cock was pressed into her pussy, made to look fuller as it caked from between her thighs.
"Trish…" he breathed, as he stared down at his dick slithering between her lips from the slobbery lubrication he had graced her with.
He wasted no time, he plunged himself into her, pinning her to the mattress with his weight and hardened cock. He felt that he met some restriction at her entrance, but he pushed past it without much thought, until he was able to thrust into her with the speed and ferocity befitting a jackhammer. This was the loudest Trish uttered, pain wrecking her features as she was consumed by the burn of a broken hymen.
"My daughter, still a virgin, hm…? No better man to relieve you of such a nuisance than myself." he mumbled over the clap of her ass at his girth. God it was too good already, as he panted to the feeling produced by the friction. He began groaning heavily as he felt the motion pull at the thin skin at the inferior end of his testicles.
"Ah, Trish, Trish, Trish…" he moaned.
He began grinding his hips into her with a thrash as he loomed over top of her, burning her frightened expression into his eyes. She began arching her back off the bed, elbows bending at the pull with her eyelids squeezed so far in, all he could see was her wet, tear stained lashes protruding from its depressions.
"Accettarla…Soon you'll enjoy the feel of daddy's cock pounding out your daughter pussy." His words rolled off his tongue.
With that, he shifted her legs a bit to her side, opting for a better view of her face and bouncing tits. In doing so, he apparently tightened her pussy's grip over his girth, and he hissed through his teeth. It was far better than he imagined.
He continued entertaining himself, speaking to her the dirtiest things he'd ever fantasized of.
"Daddy fucked mommy like this too…but daddy prefers his daughter, yes…yes…" he cooed with a perverted smirk.
Some bit of time passed as he fucked his daughter like this, and it appeared Trish was beginning to quiet down her previous desperate moans.
When he sensed the difference, he began to break a sweat at his roots. His red hair swung, and he straightened himself more and pounded long strokes into her, fixing her bare feet on his chest. He took one of her ankles and, lifting her foot to his lips, began sucking on her big toe.
This play with her feet urged him to slow his pace, so he did so, then only biting at her soles and nibbling upon each toe, worshipping her again. When he looked down at her again during this, it was a peculiar expression on her face that got him wondering.
He leaned toward her and removed her gag, while maintaining a stern expression, he spoke again.
"Are you going to be a good girl now and submit yourself to daddy?"
It was barely audible, but she did reply.
"Please just stop it. Please just stop."
"No…No, no, little girl. I don't think I will stop…" his eyes widened in renewed pleasure at the sound of her sweet voice begging him.
He pressed her thighs back now, unbuckling his belt from around her. Once released, he began gently parting her legs. Naturally, he had withdrawn from her body for only this moment, but not because he was honoring her plea.
"…I won't stop." He declared there with the sickest twist of his black lips, as he dived back into her, but only to withdraw himself all the way out again. He held his cock at the base as he did so, enjoying seeing how her tight pussy unwilling clung to him at departure, how her inner and outer labia trailed along lastly.
"AhhHHH! Aaugh!"
"Trish." He spoke her name as if it were a simple statement and pierced her green eyes with his own; the same pigmentation he gave her.
She met his, the plea from earlier written fully upon her matching irises. Her full lips drooped into a painful frown; it was clear to was torture for her.
"You will obey me now, little girl. Daddy will not tolerate a brat. Do you understand me?" He growled.
All the while saying this, he kept the deliberate motion, pulling out all nine inches of himself in full before pushing himself slowly back in. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
"You will defer to me as Daddy from now on. When I fuck you, I don't want to hear you call me anything else but that."
His free hand dug into her thigh as he awaited her response, when nothing came, when he saw that she seemed to only attempt to twist her face away into the pillow to which the bottom of her head laid upon— he jolted her body with a hard slap on the ass.
"AAGH!" She yelped in shock.
"You will answer me when I speak to you."
But he enjoyed slapping her ass too much, he had another intense one landing upon her fair skin before she even had a chance to utter anything more. With it, another scream. And then he lost it, he began beating her ass, with only five second intervals as he simultaneously increased the pacing of his torturous, deliberate thrusts inside of her.
"EEEeeeeek! Stop it! Stop it! Stop!"
But it didn't stop of course, it fueled Diavolo more. He continued reddening her ass to the point that he switched to the next cheek, bestowing equality to the neglected tissue.
"Trust me when I say that I have no qualms over marking your ass like this, my Trish." He spoke as slowly and deliberately as possible, while he continued pressing his organ into her. When he felt that he was losing some lubrication with her, he simply spat on his dick and continued.
Trish soon broke into pitiful sobs, tears lining her cheeks at the broken pride as she cried, "Yes, daddy! Yes! Yes!"
Immediately he smoothed his palm over the ass cheeks he had previously abused, as if to soothe what he had done.
"Yes, yes, good girl. Good baby girl," he groaned now as he readjusted himself, ready to get back to work on her. He continued then, as he resumed parting her thighs, "Now spread your legs for daddy, you know I need a lot more room to fit…"
She whimpered, but reluctantly she opened herself, too afraid to get another ass beating.
"More," he growled with furrowed brows.
He more forcefully pushed them to the side now, and then began fumbling at his girth to enter her yet again. He leaned directly over her now until his abs fell against her slim belly. Once he pushed himself back inside, he slid his one leg upward into the silk sheet, pushing her leg further apart with his own.
"Ah…my god, Trish. That daughter pussy is so tight and good…" he groaned, moving into her now slowly.
He continued, with some slight pants, "If you be a good girl…hah..daddy will fuck you nice and slow like this and make you cum..yes, if you be a good girl, daddy will take you out shopping too…ahh…"
Trish began arching her back again somewhat in protest, but when she felt her protruding rib cage catch into his diaphragm, she seemed to startle herself and try to revert herself, but it was too late. He took the opportunity to hook his intricately sleeved arms into the gap she had made, holding her body up against his. Like this then, with his daughter so close, he went on to tease her tits with his lips and teeth.
"Ah! Auugh! P-please!" She gasped.
He let his teeth graze along the sensitive nub as he moved into her at a slow but impassioned pace. He bored into her as he then mumbled into the fat and muscle, "Please what, Trish? I don't think you finished. I was expecting to hear a 'please, daddy.'"
It was more than a suggestion that he was making really. It was a demand, and he made it known as he began piercing his teeth over the areola of her right nipple, before moving to the torment the next.
"NO! nonono!" she whined as she felt his teeth sink into the next one, the feel of his lips making a firm suction over the pale pink cups, then beginning to trail rough hickeys over her fair skin. The very tips of his nails and fingers edged down the indentations of her spine, stopping to press into the lateral edges of her sacrum. But his fingers continued to investigate his daughter's body, smoothing along each curve, divot and valley. This deliberate molestation chilled her even more.
She bit her lip, new tears forming as she wailed, "Stop it! It's disgusting…"
"No, it's not disgusting, Trish." He snapped, continuing with a huff in pride, "It's beautiful, and I shall force you to enjoy it."
With that, new determination filled him. He knew what he would do next. He pulled out of her, then repositioned himself so that he was facing her pelvis again. He ran his hands over her inner thighs, caressing them. He ignored her recoiling, then began spreading her pussy lips apart and lowered his face into her most private area. She recoiled more once she felt his warm breath hit.
"Nooo! No, no—"
He snapped, cutting her short, "Silenzio. Surrender to your trial, Trish," he let out a soft chuckle after this, more than happy to tease her folds yet again.
He firmly pinned her thighs down, assuring her that if she gave him any trouble he would beat her ass again.
With that, he ran his tongue up and down her small, pink clit, unsheathing the folds with his tongue, then letting it fall back into place. In-between his imitation jerking, he puckered his lips and pressed them firmly against her slowly engorging sex with an upward jerk.
Nothing was escaping his innate acuity—he had three indications to let him know when his daughter was finally surrendering herself to him. One: the undeniable fullness of her clit. Two: the softening of her weeping. Three: her energy, he felt without a doubt, was increasingly yielding to him.
He commended her now, "Good girl… You see, daddy knows just what to do to please you."
And he began to truly understand how good of a job he was doing when he felt his daughter soon begin to move her hips, ever so slightly, to his lips. In fact, it seemed very reluctant, and he understood right away that it was because she didn't want to, finding shame in her budding pleasure.
Understandably. No daughter thought she would find herself spread open before her blood father.
Diavolo took advantage of these hints, then cupping the sides of her ass pooling out from beneath the mattress. He caressed her still reddened ass cheeks as he began to detect with his ears the first hints of pleasurable moans.
Eating her out in only under a few minutes left her cheeks warm and crimson, she began shaking her head from side to side to no avail, it only drew more attention to herself. Her legs weren't nearly as tense as before, they fell open to him and he continued swirling his tongue upon her sensitive flesh.
He slowly climbed his wrists up her torso until he began teasing her breast again. To his delight, her nipples were already hard. Her breathing was heavier, he felt it in the way his wrists dipped down and out again over her midriff. With this in mind, he knelt down further, using his tongue to penetrate her.
She gasped at the introduction, and only gasped harder when she felt his fingers next make concentric motions at her clit simultaneously. He pressed his face far against her, letting his tongue slide all the way in her until she felt his angular nose tease open one of her inner folds.
"Aaahh! I can't! I can't!" She cried again, hoping to distract him.
To her chagrin however, she saw only his long red hair draped over her thighs, his face buried deep in her external genitalia. She couldn't help but note how his glossy hair swayed gently as he adored her, increasing her shame and powerlessness.
The circular motion he kept on her now swollen nub sent an electric thrill deep in her womb that she knew well enough from pleasuring herself in the past. She knew what was coming and couldn't stand to allow it.
Just as she desperately tried kicking her mind into overdrive to form a solution, she felt his hand relax off her tit. It was, at first to her relief. That soon changed however, when she felt two of his fingers enter her. The worst part was that…they slide in effortlessly.
She was wet.
"…Now you're ready for me, my daughter." She could almost hear the smile that had to be plastered on his black lips.
Almost reflexively, her fingers balled up harder within her fist to the sound of his stern, slowly drawn voice. She cried out more desperately than before as she felt his fingers edge up past her sweet spot, seeing his green eyes down below looking up at her to gauge her expression. It was clear what he was doing now.
At first she tried to twist her hips away, but it only worked to dig his fingers with better accuracy into her most sensitive spot, thus revealing her weakness with a hiss from between her teeth. Her eyes fluttered open, and when she looked down again, she could see him grinding his fingers against that very spot. His other hand was planted firmly atop her abdomen, holding down her pelvis effectively.
Her legs began to shake as she cried out in a shameless pant, feeling herself being forced up a cliff of ecstasy she fought long and hard to escape. Her energy felt to be depleting; screaming and begging left her feeling empty in reserve. Her lids drooped, yet she felt her heart rate increasing all the same. She gave one last attempt as she fell into hopelessness, feeling her pride die at the mention.
"Please…daddy…" she mumbled the last bit, and then put more firmly, "please stop."
Everything stopped for the moment then, his fingers were gone from inside and around her. She felt herself being pulled down slightly by her ass cheeks, against her restraints. It pulled at her arm sockets, uttering a distinct shriek of pain. This was only corrected when she instead felt herself being pushed back up toward the bed frame by his hips.
He was sitting up over her now, and he let his dick flop over her swollen clit. Tears began forming in her eyes again and she knew he was going to fuck her all over again. What could be worse? She had no choice but to inhale his glory; his built chest, almost completely naked body except for the mesh wiring top he wore, edgy enough in design that it left his chest and abs completely visible. It served on as a compliment to his physique, and she had no choice but to appreciate this much; just as he had no choice but to do the same with her equally revealing attire.
Like father, like daughter.
"You know you're mine now…No, you always have been mine, Trish." He mused with a slightly perverted gleam in his piercing glare. He was all too pleased to see her finally unwinding and obeying him.
He rested his palm on the bedframe, then began guiding the head of his penis back at her wet entrance. He teased the glans around the opening, making deliberate circles, pressing only part of it inside of her. His next goal was to hear her say daddy again. This time…in pleasure.
He pulled her leg around himself with his free hand, her calf just grazing the side of his ass. He lowered himself just a bit, placing the pillow beneath her, raising her up a bit more to suit him. Once done, he plunged his cock back in her. He felt so good to be back inside of her that he lifted his head toward the ceiling and hissed in pleasure.
"My sweet, sweet daughter. Yes…you make daddy's cock feel so good.."
As soon as he reintroduced himself back into her, the pleasure she tried hard to deny was reinvigorated. It seemed once that particular door was opened, it remained so.
Diavolo on the other hand fought the urge to start pounding out his seed into her within the next five minutes, settling with deliberately rocking his hips into her wet sex. The motion he went about was agonizing for him though, and surely, the feelings were mutual for Trish. The pillow was nice leverage for her, and her ass pressed into its cushioning with delight.
Diavolo had somewhat long, droopy balls, and they added an extra cushion over the sensitive gap of tissue between her opening and asshole. In fact, his balls permeated the incline to her seconding opening, slicking her own fluid on it as he pressed inward. It served as a reminder of the arousal which she was in denial of.
He distracted himself from his groans and the working pressure in his balls by speaking to his daughter in the act, savoring the jelly-like motion of the gentle swaying of her tits escaping the bandeau.
"Doesn't it feel so good to be reunited with me, little girl? Don't you love the way daddy fucks you?"
He continued teasing her like that, feeding his own long fantasies about this in one sitting. He watched his daughter try to escape his glare, feeling her legs begin to turn to jelly, her pussy lubricating him more and more. It seemed that each thrust of his cock dismantled her initial intractability.
…Perhaps having never known her father before made her share the same daddy fantasy with him. In fact, it seemed likely. Because though she fought it, she was soon coming more and more undone. He knew it, because he felt it in her energy.
"I know you want to cum, Trish," he breathed as he now braced the bed frame harder. He was pumping himself into her faster, finally fucking her the way he intended to.
He chose the pacing exactly; he could feel that Trish was building up with the same tempo as himself. Indeed, they were connected by blood and thus, on a spiritual level as well.
Between breaths again, he spoke, "Call out for daddy when you cum, baby girl. Let daddy hear his daughter cry."
Her moans became desperate at his incessant pounding. The nature of his urging her to cum followed suit in the way he swashed into her. His urging bordered harassment, commanding her to lose herself in the way that she, deep down, knew she had to. Her body couldn't hold out much longer against his grinding, the slap of his pelvis against hers, the hardness of his dick, his legs, his grip around her leg. She tightened her calf then around him, and finally fell into shameful sobs.
"Oh! Daddy! Oh! YESSSS! Ah god! AAHH!" she let out in a fit as her green eyes darted open again.
Diavolo was smirking in complete glee. He smashed his dick into her walls as far as he could go, biting his lip as he felt himself grinding against her cervix. He felt her spasms come on, and it about drove him wild. In an instant, he removed his grip on the bed frame and flopped completely on top of her. Her breast smashed against his own then as he rode her out in passionate thrusts.
"Mmmhmm! Yes, yes, yes! Yes Trish! Don't you see how good we are together..?" he panted as his lids lowered, surrendering to his own lust in full.
He groaned harder and harder, then taking Trish's lips between his own as they moaned into each other's mouths, hearing only the swishing of his dick in and out of her sex as background noise.
"Yes, daddy, please, please take me harder, please daddy!" her light eyes shone brightly due to her previous tears as she pleaded this.
With his arms planted at either side of her breast, he lifted himself from her and began pounding his seed out into her spasming sex. She seemed to welcome his hardened strokes, wrapping both her legs tightly around him now. She screamed out as he stuffed her with the same ejaculation that she was once a part of. Their moans and pants slopped over the other as they both quite literally came at the same time.
He could hardly believe the bond between them; it was just too good for this world, one that could only be felt between the most intimate father and daughter. And Trish too, knew in that instant before she came just how much she loved her father—despite having never had a relationship with him.
Diavolo did to Trish just as he promised.
Not only did he have her surrendered to him wholeheartedly, but he took her out shopping at the Versace store. Being a good girl sure paid off.
It was his last day at this same hotel he first came back to with his daughter after her successful delivery to him. The six days, of course, were filled with glorious sex. He felt so glad that he gave in to his curious perversion, even if in the eyes of society, it would be a stain.
But he was Diavolo, after all. As one of the strongest men in Italy as well as the head of the mafia, how many fucks did he realistically have to give? He knew how many…only as much as what initially kept him from fucking his sexy daughter with.
Trish couldn't fight their bond, even if she still wanted to, which she did try to again. But each time they had sex, the more that will of hers vanished. Not only that, but he treated her with as much splendor a billion-lira father could his daughter. He assured her that after the in fighting within the gang calmed down some, he'd take her out much more, promising it was for her protection.
She naturally accepted this as she did with Buccellati and his crew. They filled the time catching up on much needed bonding, never realizing how much they had in common. Very obviously, fashion was something important to them both. Indeed, he would never miss the future opportunities to take her out to malls in Milan, indulging in all the high-end fashion outlets Italy had to offer.
It certainly seemed that the way to Trish's heart was thoroughly entangled with riches, luxury and jewelry, as well as a good dicking down.
And it was exactly what he was giving her now…
Trish was slamming her full, round ass back against his girth from behind, fully savoring her moment of control after he had just spent most of the time beating into her like it were a fuck or die situation.
Looking back at him now as she did, she bit her lip, squealing lewdly, "Oh how I love your big cock, daddy. It's so, soooo good. I'm going to cum all over it again!"
He slapped her ass in a weak reprimand, groaning back, "You can cum on daddy's cock anytime you want, princess."
That she did, as she did for the past few days they spent in this room—fucking on damn near every article of furniture. The bed went without saying, but there was also the bathroom sink, toilet, the stand in shower, the walls, against the door, the chair to the vanity, the vanity surface, and of course, the floor.
The latter was where they fucked now, using the edge of the bed to leverage herself as he drilled her from behind. Diavolo was right about her—she did have a raging kink in their very literal daddy-daughter roleplay. Yet again, they had a lot more in common than what would have been known, in the most intimate of ways.
He was leaned back, sitting against his calves as he regained his stamina; watching Trish devote herself to him. He could feel her juices trickle around the base of his dick, collecting around his swollen balls, and could see that she was also rubbing her clit as she pushed back against him. His eyes couldn't help but trail the nape at her neck longingly, tracing the fine indent of vertebrae along her spine and thinking on what a beautiful young lady she had become…all thanks to daddy.
"You're daddy's perfect little girl, Trish," he purred as he kneaded her ass cheeks, pulling her firmly against him each time she rocked herself down on him.
Her movements grew more intense and her moans more ardent. In confirmation, she looked back into his stone expression, begging him to fuck her again in order to make her cum.
Diavolo needed no more plea than one, he was more than happy to unleash his hot-blooded load. Subduing her arms at her back, he stationed himself back into his former position and securely smacked between her lips. He soon granted her wish, but not without an exchange of more of their dirty talk that they both seemed to enjoy so much between orgasms especially.
"Oh, my sweet daughter, taking my dick so well," He groaned with machoism.
"Right there! There, there, there daddy! Aaauuhhhh…" she sighed as she snuck a flushed glance his way, admiring the strength of his grip on her. Just seeing his muscular arms and how they chastened her was enough to further lubricate herself.
He replied, asserting himself with, "Your body belongs to your daddy, little girl. And I will make use of it anytime I wish."
With his continued naughty whispering close behind her ear and the vigor with which he thrusted into her, she soon came, her spasms making him follow close behind.
Diavolo held his daughter close now, as he suckled on her neck, reintroducing a hickey in the same spot he had previously marked on. He kept himself planted in her, slowly jerking forward until he emptied his organ in satisfaction.
Pulling out of the limp meat, he noticed the slight paddle of their fluids drip against his leg. It wasn't concerning to him; instead he fondled Trish's breast whilst continually marking her. He murmured his love for his daughter between kisses and delighted in her reciprocating remarks. Large hands enveloped her titties completely, and she placed her delicate hands over his in return.
He wished he could stay like this, but he knew today was the day he moved once more to a new location and begin his search for the traitor Risotto Nero. In order to secure his stamina for the possible coming conflict, it may even be for the best that this be the last time they make love…until everything was squashed.
He released his daughter, straightening to his full six-foot two-inch height. He then laid himself upon the ruffled quilts of the hotel bed. He pondered on how he would tell Trish this, while also wondering when he should send the order to Buccellati and his gang to be on the lookout for Risotto. In the next minute however, Trish was on with the bed with him. This struck him then as a great opportunity to speak with his daughter on this matter…but it proved to not be the case.
Trish crawled over his legs, tipping her ass in the air to face him, while he saw her face lowering to his somewhat erect cock. He knew what she going to do next, and his surprised expression soon melted into a triumphant smirk.
Oh, what a wonderfully sweet daughter, giving her father's cock a well-deserved cleaning…
"Mmmm…Oh, Trish.." he groaned, his eyes rolling back, pushing all business matters for now at the back of his mind.
When his eyes rolled back to the front of his line of vision, he was faced with the perfect view. He watched as his remaining cum dripped between her cake of pussy lips and onto his chest.
His dick was hardened all over again by the time she was finished cleaning it with her tongue. Its fortification must have enticed Trish; she was soon begging her father to allow her to ride his dick. He of course, granted the request.
He urged her ass down upon his length, then relaxing into the view of her body taking his cock with ease in a lazy reverse cowgirl.
It would be strange to say here and now, in this very moment, that the man whom he despised, that is, Cioccolata—flashed through his mind. Albeit, it just barely occurred to him that he did.
Why? Simply because the thought of him gave Diavolo hardly any added disgust in this moment. No, not just because he was in the middle of having his dick ridden, but because he finally understood the justifications behind the man's moral and sexual degeneracy.
It seemed that when Diavolo finally opened himself up to exploring his perverse curiosities, it landed him not in anguish, but in complete happiness. At that, a happiness which he would have never expected.
Yes, here it was that his daughter shared his lust with him. She now willingly and eagerly gave herself to him. And, although it was incredibly wicked, they were now able to nourish a bond that was lost to him for all these years. It was almost as if he could now make up to her their lost time together…perhaps even propel her with ease into whatever future career she had in mind for herself.
And yes…it did corrupt his mind further…Here he was, not looking upon his incestuous relations as a vice, but instead seeing the absolute picture of beauty within it all.
If it meant that he was acknowledging, or even giving mental praise to that piece of shit, so be it. It was now that he understood the man…somewhat. It was still the beginning of his mental unraveling, and perhaps he would learn even more if he kept up this pursuit of satisfying curiosity.
He wasn't back pedaling. No, he wasn't degenerating. That wasn't the word. He was evolving.
Trish's rolling moans brought him back from the brief mental respite.
"Arrghh, oh god! You like this, don't you daddy? Does it feel good like this?" She cried, leaning the palms of her hands along his shins, gripping for support while she smacked her juicy cake up and down in jerky movements.
As he watched his unrelenting length continually penetrate her, heard his daughter's moans grow ever more passional—he could only feel incredibly blessed to have opened himself to this pervading fantasy of his. He began slapping her ass periodically, having already discovered that doing so egged her on into orgasms.
Does it feel good? What kind of question was that?
"Yes, of course it does. Keep going, baby girl…keep going," he urged, with the most wholesome gratitude filling his heart as he realized how glad he truly was to have not taken Trish's life.
She would always be daddy's little girl…this much was true. Would Trish acknowledge him now, however, as at least a half decent father?
But the question in his mind didn't have time to settle; his daughter's heavenly moans as she lost herself on him served as its answer.
.