Today marks the release of “Daddy’s Lessons”, the hot new noncon father-daughter incest tale from author Hazel Grace. (Click here to view Daddy’s Lessons in the ATR store.)
But in addition to this great new release, Hazel is also sharing her shorter book “Daddy’s Wife Replacement” completely free! You can read the first half below, and the rest will be publishing here next Wednesday. And the PDF and EPUB versions of this story are included in purchases of “Daddy’s Lessons” absolutely free!
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I was sat down on the carpeted floor in front of daddy.
He’d just come home from work, not even a hour ago, his already short fuse half lit. He had me pause my cooking to rub his sore feet, and so that was what I’d been doing for the better part of the early evening.
There was a certain heaviness in the air, a stifling feeling like something dark and terrible was about to happen.
I was, metaphorically speaking, walking on egg shells to try to prevent that.
“Unfortunately for you, you remind me too much of your mother, Daisy,” my father declared from the couch, thus breaking the uneasy silence that governed our home as of late.
It seemed to always be one of two things with us: uncomfortable and awkward silent co-habitation, or a barrage of insults and angry yelling from his part, directed squarely at me and my absent mother.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” I mumbled, not knowing how else to reply to such a statement.
“As you should be,” he barked, clearly annoyed with me again.
He gave my chest a hard shove with his foot and I almost fell backwards, on my butt. My left tit got the worst of it and I was fighting an impulse to rub it better. I would have, but I didn’t like the way daddy had begun to look at me lately. His eyes would linger on my body in a way that didn’t seem all that fatherly.
“Forgive me, daddy.”
I hated how my voice was barely louder than a house mouse’s whisper.
I felt so humiliated, I could hardly speak anymore. Here I was, acting like some sort of modern house slave and apologizing for things I had no control over. I knew I was the spitting image of my mother, with my unruly blonde curls and lithe constitution, but what was I supposed to do about that?
I couldn’t even find a way out of the hell my life had become.
See, things didn’t use to be this way.
My father used to be a loving, doting husband, and a caring daddy, and I used to be spoiled rotten with the love I’d get from both of my parents.
I’d graduated high school with honors and I had so many friends I loved to hang out with. There was even a guy I fancied and that I hoped would ask me out one day.
I used to think my life was perfect and that nothing could ever ruin it.
My mother, apparently, knew something I didn’t.
Exactly three months ago, she’d packed the bare necessities and made it out into the big, wide, world, with not so much as a letter of goodbye explaining herself to me.
Or to my father, though I was sure he had an inkling as to why things happened the way they did, he just didn’t want to share it with me.
I didn’t know what to make of things anymore.
I remembered spending the better part of that first week in shock, going over things, thinking there had to have been clues that I’d missed, that could’ve explained mom’s decision to leave a seemingly happy home. That mystery remained unsolved to this day, though.
As for daddy?
He’d been drinking himself stupid ever since, his moods only growing darker and darker. Where once he wouldn’t even dream of startling me as a prank, now he’d yell and throw things my way in futile attempts at exorcising the demons my mother’s gesture had given birth inside of him the day of her departure.
“That’s okay, I think I know what to do with you now,” he said, putting down his beer. “I’m not going to let you turn into your mother. Not while I’m alive.”
A feeling of unease began to spread over my entire being. It wasn’t just a mental thing, anxiety at what daddy’s words might mean. It was an actual physical sensation that crept up through my body and settled in the pit of my stomach.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice.
“I’m going to need you to take your clothes off.”
“W-what?”
I instinctively wrapped my arms around me. Flimsy protection, I knew, but even so.
“Take your clothes off, girl. Now!”
The tone of command in his voice was unmistakable. He sounded like he meant business, like there would be serious consequences if I didn’t obey his orders without further questions. Daddy always used to adopt that tone when he wanted younger me to take my baths or go to bed.
And now he wanted me to undress in front of him?
It felt wrong on every level imaginable.
What could possibly possess daddy to ask that of me?
“Do I need to repeat myself for the third time?” He yelled, slamming his large, closed fist against the coffee table.
Several empty beer bottles wobbled and then fell to the floor, the loud glass clanks echoing in my brain, triggering a fight or flight response.
“No, daddy,” I replied, adrenaline and pure fear making me jump to my feet. “I’ll do it, please don’t get mad!”
Daddy’s eyes were fixed firmly upon my young, fragile body as I stood before him, trembling from head to toe.
My heart raced wildly inside my chest. It beat hard enough to shake loose all the contents of my stomach, but despite everything, I somehow found the willpower to direct my hands to the buttons of my shirt and undo them, one by one.
The moment my blouse fell away from my shoulders and landed onto the floor at our feet, daddy nodded for me to go on.
A few seconds later the skirt joined it, as well as my socks and slippers, leaving only my bra and panties between me and daddy’s expectant gaze.
“Those too, girl.”
My breath hitched in my throat, but this time I did nothing more than nod once.
See, I’d figured it out.
Why he suddenly wanted me naked.
I didn’t like it, but I knew there was nothing to do other than obey, so I did.
Slowly, I reached behind me until both my fingers met under the pink elastic band holding together the cups of my lace bra. With shaking hands I pulled it apart, letting each cup fall away from its neighbor, revealing two pear-shaped mounds beneath their covering fabric – tiny little breasts, no longer covered by anything, their nipples erect and begging to be touched.
Yeah, I’d solved the day’s puzzle my daddy’s emotions formed.
The way he was looking at me, the way he was licking his lips, his eyes focused on what passed as tits for someone with my lithe built, I knew what he was thinking.
He was going to fuck me.
I didn’t know why he’d want to, though.
Why he’d think about doing such a thing to me, his own daughter, when the world was full of potentially willing women, women who weren’t related to him, women who weren’t still virgins and who could probably give him a really fun time, instead of bouts of crying and begging to be spared the act.
But I also knew that whatever reason he had, however twisted it might have been, I couldn’t stop him. Not as long as we were alone here, anyway, and I had the physical strength of a waif.
With another shuddering breath I spoke again. I figured why prolong the agony.
“What now, daddy?”
He not so subtly fixed himself in his pants.
I couldn’t look away quick enough.
“Now we go to your bedroom.”
“Yes, daddy.”
I followed him up the stairs, quietly obedient. The room was dark already, save for the light coming in through the windows. No moon shone brightly outside, but plenty of stars twinkled in the sky above us, giving me hope that they might hide the sin that we were about to commit from any prying, judging, eyes.
Yet, instead of making a beeline to my bed, daddy opened my closet and pulled out my travel suitcases.
“Fill them with your clothes. All of them, underwear too, towels, sheets, anything that you might think to use to cover yourself with.”
I stared at him blankly for a few moments, before a fist loudly slammed against the wooden frame of my bedroom door spurred me into action.
I didn’t want to get raped, nor beaten, so packing everything I had was the most sensible thing to do. I threw in there every piece of cloth I spotted, from hairbands to pillow cases, I even removed the curtains from my windows, until twin piles of items reigned in the middle of my bedroom.
“Now stay there and don’t make a fucking sound,” daddy barked.
I wouldn’t have dared to, anyway.
I watched him lug the overflowing suitcases from the middle of my room into the middle of our backyard, and then I stared, mouth completely agape, as he set fire to them all.
What used to be my wardrobe and my linens was now nothing more than a campfire, burning like dry wood and autumn leaves.
In that moment, I saw the reasoning behind my father’s actions. I saw it in the rising flames, bringing light into my darkness. Without anything to wear, I could never do what my mother did to my father – I could never leave daddy.
Or the house, for that matter.
When he returned, I was still clinging to my windowsill, looking on as my future became bleaker. Was I really going to spend my nights and days like this, naked and fearing his outbursts, doing chores around the house and… and… worse?
“Daisy,” he called out to me.
He was breathing heavily and his face was flushed red, but not from exertion or anger. The tent in his pants was impossible to ignore and that told me I was minutes away from daddy claiming my virginity.
I steeled myself the best I could.
I was determined not to make tonight into a big deal. After all, there were women out there who probably had a worse first time experience than being fucked by their fathers. I told myself that as long as I would obey and be pleasant, at least daddy had no reason to rape me, and instead would fuck me gently.
I could just close my eyes and pretend he was my crush, or something, and figure a way out of this situation in the morning.
I did not want to spend my life a prisoner of his perverted obsessions.
“Yes, daddy?”
“Kneel down and close your eyes.”
His voice sounded strained, unlike anything I’d ever heard from him before.
Scared, I did as told.
I could hear him coming over, unbuckling his belt and then, I assumed, what followed were the sounds of him taking his cock in his hand and jerking himself off very close to my face.
I could sometimes feel the back of his fist brush against my cheek and on a few occasions, he had the tip itself pressed against my firmly closed lips. He didn’t tell me to open my mouth and suck on his cock, so I never did.
Daddy seemed content with me just letting him masturbate to my face, while I was knelt down and naked before him.
His breathing soon got more and more labored, with the occasional grunt and curse escaping his lips, and the seconds turned into minutes that felt like hours.
I thought the scene would never end and that I would never be allowed to open my eyes again, or move from the spot he was keeping me at.
That was until a streak of hot, sticky, cum began to land on my face.
I tried to instinctively pull away from it, but daddy was fast in reaching out a hand and keeping my head where his cum could land on my eyelids, cheeks, nose and lips. He held me there, a captive to his depravity, while he released his seed all over my unwilling body, until he emptied his balls with a sigh of deep satisfaction and I was left a humiliated mess.
When I finally dared to open my eyes again, the first thing I noticed was that daddy was watching me with a look of pure fascination. And then I saw the way his cock was hanging, flaccid between our bodies, enormous in its size.
I’d never seen a cock in real life before.
Were they all like that, so big and so thick?
So scary-looking?
“Don’t wipe yourself clean, Daisy,” he said. “You look so beautiful like this. Just like your mother.”
Shocked by what he had just done to me and the sight of his massive manhood, I couldn’t even move, much less have the presence of mind to clean myself. So I continued to sit there, kneeling, not saying or doing anything, just feeling the cum cool down on my skin.
Daddy, on the other hand, was already tucking himself back in his pants, the usual aura of danger no longer surrounding him. The very air inside the house suddenly felt more… breathable. Like a huge weight had been lifted from his heart and he was almost back to being the same loving father I grew up with.
But he was not.
Daddy, his old self that was, he would’ve never made me undress, then kneel before him and then finally used me to masturbate.
He would’ve never dirtied me with his cum.
He would’ve never said I looked beautiful after he was done using me like a sex doll.
He would’ve never… never… done any of these to me.
Moments later, daddy left my bedroom, smiling and content, wishing me a good night. It was the first time I’d seen him smile since mom left and deep within me, I knew that his newfound happiness wasn’t a good sign. He was going to do more dirty things to me, I was sure of it.
The only questioned that remained was whether I was going to find a way to run away, just like my mom did, before it was too late.
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When morning came, I debated whether I should clean the dried cum off my body or not.
I’d slept that way, yes, with my daddy’s lust juices all over my face and chest, but I wasn’t really going to go out like that, was I?
It had to be enough for him that I was naked.
Surely daddy wouldn’t want me to look like a porno actress at the end of a shooting session, right?
Yet something was preventing me from acting according to that train of thought.
On one hand, the warm water would have helped wash away some of the shame and humiliation I still felt, but on the other hand, daddy hadn’t told me I was allowed to, so doing so would be taking a bit of a risk.
I let out a hollow laugh, realizing how much I’d grown to fear him.
It was silly, in a way, since he’d never actually hit me, just yelled at me and called me names when he was too drunk to realize I wasn’t my mother. It stung, making my very soul ache when he called me a “treacherous cock-sucking cunt” or an “ungrateful whore”, but I kept reminding myself that it wasn’t me he hated with such passion, but my mom.
“Oh, screw it,” I whispered to myself, “He’s going to find something to be mad about anyway, so what does it matter if I wash myself or not? At least… at least he’ll have space to jerk off all over me again.”
I hurried into my bathroom and grabbed soaps, lotions and gels, anything I could find that might make the feeling of having been dirtied go away and then I got down to business.
I applied copious amounts of floral scented things all over the places that had been tainted by daddy’s cum and then expanded to cover my pits, tits and slit.
It bothered me that my pussy tingled every time I touched myself there, to clean.
While I was physically doing that – an innocent act of bodily maintenance, my mind was busy playing out what I imagined things to have looked like, with my daddy half bent over my kneeling form, pleasuring himself.
What he’d done to me had been such a dirty, indecent, grotesque act, my body had no reason to begin to feel aroused at the memory. That hadn’t been an act of love, I was so sure of it, because if daddy still loved me, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place.
I could feel myself growing angrier with every passing second.
Daddy had no right!
My hand moved on its own accord, rubbing harder and harder, mercilessly working on my clit, as if I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to get myself off or punish my body for being able to feel pleasure. I most certainly didn’t want to be so close to cumming now.
When I realized I was crying and starting to rub myself raw, pain radiating from the pussy I was abusing all on my own this stupid morning, I stopped myself.
Luckily, I did it just in time, just before I could cum at the thought of my daddy’s cock against my lips.
“It’s alright, Daisy, you’re just confused. Or in shock. Or both. This isn’t you. Daddy… daddy broke you somehow,” I told myself. “This, too, shall pass.”
Then, out of pure habit, I reached for a towel. But then I remembered how those, too, had probably burned to ashes during the night, along with my panties, bras, even my dignity.
“Right. Naked 24/7. Mustn’t forget now,” I sighed.
I then pondered whether I should be going downstairs and making us something to eat, as was my usual routine post mom’s departure, but the mere thought of facing daddy again chilled me to my core.
I was naked, for heaven’s sake, with absolutely nothing to cover myself with, and he was a man who’d already used me for sexual things.
I didn’t want daddy to do anything else to me, at least not just yet. My mind was hazy, my judgment clouded. I was afraid of what I might think or feel next if he did.
I knew full well I could only postpone The Final Act for so long, but whatever bravery I’d felt last night regarding the inevitable loss of my virginity had been stoned to death by every dollop of cum that had since landed on my face.
No wonder mom left, I thought, if daddy liked to do such a thing to her.
Maybe I was naive in my young age, barely eighteen and fresh out of high school, but I thought sex was this awesome thing that people did to make each other feel good.
I knew daddy had felt good when he did all that to me – he’d orgasmed and cum a lot.
I, however, hadn’t felt an ounce of pleasure, only fear and shame and a deep sense of having been further humiliated. I had felt used and abused, even if he hadn’t actually been rough in any way with me. He’d just held me there until he was done spilling himself all over my face.
Needless to say, it didn’t help that my body was now having strange and unwanted reactions in the aftermath of that.
Had it been possible for me to never leave my bedroom again, I would’ve been fine with it. Eventually, though, I gave up my silly ideas of being chained to the bed by my angry father and I made my way to the kitchen.
I descended the stairs as quietly as I could, fearful of daddy’s usual crappy morning moods and of him getting handsy with me again. I wasn’t sure how this whole naked in front of him thing was going to work without things eventually getting to the point of no return.
Plus, I was awfully shy and self-conscious about my body.
When I rounded the corner to the living room, I found that Daddy was awake, too, and not only that, he was already nursing a beer. Next to him, on the coffee table, about two dozen more bottles, all empty, were laying in wait for someone to pick them up and throw them into the bin.
That someone was most likely going to be me.
“Good morning, Daisy,” daddy greeted me, sounding unusually cheerful and casual, all things considered.
I didn’t think he’d heard me come down, I’d been so careful and quiet, but maybe he was expecting me? And if he was, what did he have in mind for me?
More acts of perversion, probably.
I instinctively entered a sort of apprehensive state.
“Hi, daddy,” I replied, sheepishly.
“Before you get started on breakfast, come clean this up for your old man. There’s no room for my omelet in this mess.”
Cheeks burning red with shame and embarrassment, I walked myself over to where he was and then awkwardly bent down to pick up the remnants of his constant at home pity-party. I wondered how many of these he’d had last night and at what point in his drunkenness had burning my clothes to stop me from running away become a good idea in his head.
Or everything else that followed, for that matter.
“That’s a lovely pussy you have there, Daisy,” daddy cooed, and before I could say anything in response to that, I felt him nudge me between my legs with his beer bottle. The glass was warm and it felt soothing when pressed against my tender flesh.
“But is it me, or does it look all puffy and swollen? How interesting. Spread those legs for me, girl.”
My knees buckled under me, which made picking up the empties difficult.
“Don’t you want me to clean this up, daddy?” I asked, hoping to trick him into letting me go.
“Nah, I think I wanna look at your little cunt more than I want you to keep the house in order.”
He was wiggling that bottle’s neck in between my folds, spreading apart my pussy lips, nudging my clit and teasingly dipping its mouth inside my vagina.
Daddy was acting like my body was some sort of sex toy he was entitled to play with.
The feelings of humiliation only grew greater, but what was worse it was that I could feel myself growing hot again, too. As if I was somehow enjoying this. As if I wanted him to do more dirty things to me.
“Don’t go ruining my mood already, girl,” he added, a hint of anger in his voice, when I failed to assume a decidedly more lewd position. “Bend over the coffee table and let me have a good look at your fuckhole.”
I had no choice but to put down the bottles I’d managed to pick up and awkwardly crawl and settle between his legs. I was half-straddling the coffee table, my ass high in the air, while trying to find a position that I could sustain for however long daddy was going to want me to stay like that.
I could feel his eyes on my privates and I could tell he was working through something by the way he was breathing. I didn’t think he was going to jerk off again, as I hadn’t heard the zipper being pulled down, but daddy was for sure on the verge of something.
A few agonizingly long minutes of the air-conditioned living room breeze cooling my bare pussy, and daddy finally addressed me.
“Don’t lie to me: did you masturbate before coming down?”
I swallowed around the lump that formed in my throat. “Y-yes, daddy.”
“I see. And were you thinking of what we did last night?”
“I… Yes, daddy.”
He let out a long hum, but didn’t say anything else.
For a while there, he was content to run that beer bottle all across my slit, sometimes caressing me with it, other times slapping my clit with its bottom, or poking at my little nub with the slicked glass mouth.
It was difficult for me to just stand there, and pretend that none of his ministrations had any effect on me.
“You know, I’ve been giving it some thought,” he started. “You could be my new wife. You’re so much more obedient than your mother and as long as you keep that up, daddy’s going to make you like your new role in our family.”
Daddy was punctuating every word of his indecent proposition with a dip of that beer bottle inside my vagina, shallowly fucking me with it. It was a not so subtle hint that he was expecting me to agree with his plans and allow him to put his cock in there next.
I wanted to balk at the idea, but I was finding it difficult to stick to my principles when I was growing more aroused by the second.
“Your wife, daddy? But I’m your daughter, we can’t,” I said, ever so feebly.
Part of me knew I only mumbled as much so I could at least feel better about myself later, when I would probably grow conflicted and confused about everything again.
“Sure we can, girl! You’re already cooking and cleaning for me, all that’s left to do is to take care of the other bodily needs I have. I think you’ll be great at it. I mean, you should see the way your pussy’s swallowing this bottle’s neck here. Your cunt’s hungry for a man. It’s time you became a proper woman and I would be honored to make you into one.”
Then, as if to prove the truth of his words, daddy shoved the bottle as deep inside me as it would go, making me gasp in shock.
I thought he was trying to hurt me, the way he was now thrusting it into my body, but I was amazed to discover it felt rather… good?
Or it felt good enough anyway, enough to distract me from how this, too, was another humiliating thing daddy was doing to me – corrupting me with such depravity.
I’d never been penetrated by anything before. Sure, I’d dipped a slender finger inside once or twice, when I masturbated, but I’d put nothing as girthy or as hard in me. Nothing like the beer bottle daddy was now using to simulate a cock.
My body felt flushed with heat and I didn’t even realize I’d begun to thrust back against it, fucking myself with daddy’s help.
“See, you got the idea,” he laughed. “Now fuck yourself silly with daddy’s beer bottle.”
His words were making me cry tears of shame, but at the same time, I was powerless against the burst of warmth this indecent fuck was birthing low in my belly.
I couldn’t stop what I was doing even if I wanted to.
I grabbed onto the edge of the coffee table and I lowered myself against daddy’s hand, humping that damned beer bottle, over and over again, going faster and harder, until I felt something reach an unparalleled high and my pussy clenched, tightly trapping the glass bottle inside my body. I felt something trickle down from my vagina, something that smelled not too dissimilar to daddy’s cum, and that was now coating the bottle’s mouth and even dripping down onto the carpet.
When daddy pulled it out of me, the bottle came loose with a pop.
“Atta girl. Now turn over,” he said, his voice low and husky.
My legs felt like jello and I did the world’s most disgraceful half pirouette.
“Drink.”
Daddy was offering me the beer that was inside the bottle I’d just fucked myself with.
I closed my eyes in renewed shame and opened my mouth instead. Daddy then poured its contents down my throat, and I gulped them down, tasting myself and alcohol for the first time in my young life.
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The rest of this story will publish next Wednesday – but in the mean time you can get Daddy’s Lessons for only $4.99 USD in the ATR store, with a free copy of Daddy’s Wife Replacement included! (Click here to view in store.)
And you can find more Hazel Grace on Smashwords – where, as at this writing, there are many titles at discounted prices in the Smashwords sale! (Click here to find Hazel Grace on Smashwords.)
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