Disclaimer: The following story is graphic and extreme, featuring disfigurement, incest, rape and a whole host of other perversions that would offend ordinary senses. I would never do anything in this story to anyone, but a little fantasy now and then isn't a bad thing. If you don't like that sort of thing, though, you probably won't get much out of the story and may as well skip it.
This is actually the first sex story (although it's really more of a torture story) that I've ever written, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. It is intended to be the first of a series, so if you have suggestions for who the next victim should be or what should be done to her I'd love to hear them. It's a fucked up world we live in, and I'm just helping it along. Introduction: Derrick Simpson was a relatively common man; wealthy but not rich, in his mid-40s working in middle management and watching people his children's age pass him by.
He was prolific in one aspect of his life, though, having 5 ex-wives, and 10 daughters and step-daughters. His inability to bear a son had always haunted him, each child being more of a disappointment than the last. For these and other reasons he wasn't in as much despair as many others would have been when his doctor told him that he had terminal cancer, and a year at most to live. After receiving the news he returned to his lonely home and tried to think of whom to break the news to first, before realizing that no one would care.
What could have been hatred at God or his body was instead an absolute loathing at every woman he'd ever met, since now when he needed someone to care the most no one would. What to do then, to get back at everyone who had wronged him while allowing him to have one last bit of fun before his body went to the ground to rot? His plotting began. First he prepared his house, gathering everything he could think of to keep himself entertained and selling everything that he would not need.
He then began making phone calls, contacting seedier and seedier men before finally talking with a few men who agreed to bring him any woman he requested, no questions asked. Finally he prepared a list of potential victims. All of his daughters were on the list, ranging in age from 11 to 22. Also on the list were a smattering of secretaries, restaurant employees, friend's daughters and other women who had caught his eye throughout the years.
His final preparation was loading his grandfather's revolver with one bullet. How long his run would last he had no clue, but eventually people would be suspicious and eventually he would be caught. He had no intention of being taken in alive. Story: He sat in his chair, gently rocking back and forth. "Who first, who first" he muttered to himself quietly.
He never imagined he'd be this nervous about choosing his first victim. Finally he came to a decision and picked up his phone, "Bring me Samantha." Samantha was his second daughter by his first wife, 19 years of age.
She was a model of perfection; 5'9 and extraordinarily slim, but with 32 C breasts. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes.
She knew how beautiful she was, though, and constantly used her looks to manipulate those around her, male and female. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door.
"She was pretty easy to track down, but she wasn't alone," the thug said, hauling two handcuffed, blindfolded and gagged girls into the room and laying them on the floor. Sam was wearing a tight revealing designer top with a denim miniskirt, while Whitney was wearing a loose yellow sundress. "Hopefully you won't mind" He said with a smile.
"Of course not," Derrick said, licking his lips and rubbing his hand together. This was a complication, but not an unwelcome one. He recognized the second girl as Whitney, Sam's friend since childhood.
Whitney was everything Sam wasn't; only 5'6 and chubby, but with large 36 D breasts. Her eyes and hair were brown. Sam had constantly manipulated her over the years, never letting her forget which of the two was prettier. Despite this they had remained friends. Derrick walked over and pulled the gags and blindfolds off of both of them. "Daddy! What's going on?" Sam shrieked, as Whitney blinked and looked around, speechless. "Don't worry Sam, if you do everything I say you'll be ok," Derrick said, smirking a bit at his lie.
"It's really best if you don't ask questions though, and just follow orders.
It will all go so much easier for you if you do." He then walked over and uncuffed the both of them. "Don't even think about trying to escape though, the men who brought you here may not be as gentle with you as I will be…" Both of the girls looked terrified, but slowly climbed to their feet.
"Mr. Simpson, what's going on? Why are we here?" Whitney asked, tears already starting to well in her eyes. Her question was met with a hard slap across the face, knocking her down. "I said don't ask questions. Now the two of you follow me into the kitchen." Sam complied immediately, and Whitney slowly rose to her feet and followed. "Now girls, remember what happened to Whitney when she asked a question.
Just follow orders." The both nodded slowly, unsure of what to make of the situation. "Now, undress each other." Sam's eyes shot open wide, not believing what she'd just heard.
"Daddy? You want me to… you want me to take off my clothes? Here? In front of you?" Now it was Sam's turn to take a hit across the face. "No questions. And I didn't tell you to take off your clothes, I told you to take off Whitney's.
And her yours." The girls looked up again still in shock, but not wanting to be hit again. Sam reached over and slowly pulled up Whitney's sundress, revealing a yellow thong and bra. Whitney's head dropped in shame, her body now on display for everyone to see. She didn't look nearly as bad as she thought she did, but years of Sam's constant belittling had torn away all of her self esteem. Whitney then reached over and pulled off Sam's shirt, revealing her perfectly toned body and perfectly shaped breasts.
"Mmmm…" Derrick said, smiling and walking over to the girls.
"No bra Sam? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. And I'm certainly not disappointed. You're so beautiful; anything else would just get in the way. " He then looked over at Whitney, who was visibly ashamed, and decided to run with that.
"Ugh," he said in disgust, "I'll never know why Sam kept you around." Whitney hung her head and started sobbing quietly. "Daddy," Sam said, "I don't want to get hit again, but I'm… I'm really confused.
I don't know why you're making me do this, or… I just don't know." This time instead of hitting her Derrick just reached out and rubbed his daughter's breasts, making her extremely uncomfortable. "Don't worry about that. Don't worry about anything, just do what you're told.
Now finish undressing yourself and that… that thing you brought with you." Sam pulled away from her father's touch, and pulled off her skirt and panties.
She then reached back out to the sobbing Whitney and instead of offering support finished undressing her. Derrick smiled, secretly extremely turned on by the both of them. "What's wrong Whitney? Upset that you're uglier than your best friend? Well don't worry, no matter who your best friend was you'd still be uglier." He walked over and began rubbing her pussy, noticing that it was loose. "Hmm… looks like some unfortunate guys still had their way with you though." An idea suddenly sprung to his mind, and he picked up a small knife, taking Whitney's hand and placing the knife in it.
"Would you like to get back at Sam? Would you like to get even?" He said, suddenly transitioning from sinister to compassionate. "Sam, come here." Sam slowly stepped forward, somehow becoming more scared than she already was. "Alright Whitney, here's your chance. Cut Sam. Destroy her beautiful face.
Destroy her beautiful body. Anything you'd like to do to her with this knife is fair game, and I'll make sure she can't retaliate." Whitney's eyes suddenly shot up, torn between wanting to get even with Sam for the years of abuse but not sure that she could do something like this to her best friend.
"Please, no, don't," Sam said, pleading with her eyes and starting to cry. "We've always been best friends!
You can't do this to me!" Whitney remained speechless for a few moments, the knife gripped in her hand. "I suggest you do it," Derrick said, still compassionate. "The alternative for you is… unpleasant.
You may not get a second chance." With tears in her eyes Whitney raised the knife to Sam's face. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry" she said, her lips quivering. Tears poured down Sam's face, but she didn't pull away, afraid and confused. Whitney pressed the knife against Sam's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood, before dropping it to the ground. "I can't do it, I can't do it to my best friend" she said, looking up at Derrick, hoping her punishment wouldn't be severe.
"I'm sorry to hear that. You just passed up on a chance to get even, and save yourself." Derrick bent down and opened up the oven. "Now see if you can fit your fat whore self in here." Whitney's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You want… you want me to…" she stuttered, before remembering what happened when she asked questions.
She still couldn't bring herself to comply though, and just stood in front of the oven. Derrick picked the knife back up and pressed it against Whitney's breast.
"Now now, you wouldn't want me to have to cut off the only part of you remotely attractive would you? The oven isn't on, and if Sam does a good job it'll stay that way." Slowly Whitney climbed into the oven, having to bend over as if she were in the doggy style position. Her body filled the entire oven, pressing up against the heating elements. Derrick then closed the oven door and put a chair up against it, so that the door couldn't be opened from the inside. "Your friend made a pretty big sacrifice so that she wouldn't have to hurt you," Derrick said to his daughter.
"And after everything you've put her through over the years… Sleeping with her boyfriend, buying the same clothes as her because you knew they'd look better on you, making her drive you to prom when you were grounded from driving and she didn't have a date… Wow. How does that make you feel." Tears were still streaming down her face, suddenly ashamed at what she'd done. "Please daddy, please don't turn that oven on.
She didn't do anything to you." "Well Sam, how far are you willing to go to protect your friend? Each time you disobey me I'll turn the heat up a little bit more. You owe her so much…" Suddenly he unzipped his pants and pulled them off with his boxers, revealing his erection from seeing his daughter.
"How about you get down on your knees and… beg?" By this point nothing really surprised Sam, but giving her own father head?
Still, it was to save her best friend from literally being cooked alive. Slowly she dropped down to her knees, her face mere inches from her father's dick.
"I know you know what to do now," Derrick said, himself extremely nervous about what was about to happen. He'd watched his daughter grow up into a beautiful young lady and had frequently dreamed of something like this happening. Maybe under different circumstances, but a beautiful woman on your dick is a beautiful woman on your dick.
Nodding, Sam dipped her head down, licking the head of the dick. She started by taking the head in her mouth and twirling it around with her tongue, looking up at her father. "Mmm… perfect baby. You're doing a great job.
This is the easy part though; it'll get harder." He stood there for a minute, enjoying the obviously experienced tongue of his daughter. After a while, though, it was time to move on. "Now I want you to take the entire thing into your mouth." He said, stroking her hair. "And don't you dare gag or throw up. That's an order." Sam looked up, knowing she wouldn't be able to fit the entire dick.
She slowly started moving her head down on the dick, viscous saliva flowing from the corners of her mouth. The first few inches were easy, but eventually it got to the point that it was a massive battle to even get another quarter inch in. Derrick decided to help, pushing his daughters head down, and finally her chin was merely an inch from his balls. The last inch would be impossible though, and Sam suddenly pulled her head away and fell backward, vomiting on herself.
"Sam, Sam, Sam" Derrick said disapprovingly. "I gave you one order, one simple order. Oh well." He walked over to the oven and turned the temperature up to 100 degrees. The heating element clicked on, and the temperature started to slowly climb. Audible whimpers started to come from the oven.
"Look at what you're putting your friend through," he said, walking back over to Sam. She was still trying to catch her breath on the ground, her makeup smeared all over her face. "And you've made such a mess in my kitchen!
You should clean it up." Derrick watched as Sam struggled to her feet. "Ok, ok," she said, finally catching her breath. "Where's the mop? Please don't turn the heat up any more, I promise to obey you." Derrick laughed, first softly, but then loudly and manically.
"You're the mop you little slut. Lick it up, all of it." Not wanting the whimpering from the stove to get any louder Sam quickly complied, getting down on all fours and licking the soiled tiles. At first she had to fight the urge to throw up again, but she found the strength to keep it down. Finally she managed to lick and suck it all up, and then looked up at her father, her face smeared with saliva and vomit.
"Aren't you daddy's little girl," he said with a smirk, loving how degraded his beauty queen daughter now was. He picked up a towel and roughly wiped the remains off of Sam's face. The oven finally finished heating up to 100; not particularly uncomfortable for Whitney but quickly getting there. She was only able to hear muffled noises from the outside, and prayed that there wouldn't be another 'click' from the oven turning back on. Sam stood back up, a little shaky on her feet.
"I'm sorry I couldn't follow your orders," she said slowly to her father, hoping the next task would be easier. "Not as sorry as Whitney is. Now, this next order is going to be much easier for you to pull off. Physically at least." Derrick picked the knife up again and this time handed it to Sam, turning her to face a mirror.
"You've never known what it was like to be ugly. To be like Whitney. To be like all the girls you've made fun of over the years. Now it's time to find out." The knife shook unsteadily in Sam's hand, as she looked at herself in the mirror. Even without the makeup that her father had wiped off she was still stunning.
Her looks had carried her through her entire life, and she didn't have much else to fall back on. Even though logically she knew she'd never walk out of the house alive she still harbored some hope that she could escape. "I can't." she said, staring off into the mirror, seeing the oven in the background.
"I'm sorry to hear that." Derrick said. "But not nearly as sorry as Whitney is going to be." He walked over to the oven, slowly turning the dial up, only stopping when it was at 400 degrees. "I'd have given you more chances, but since you disobeyed me so thoroughly this is what has to happen." He then pulled a chair in front of the oven and motioned for Sam to sit down.
Once she was seating Derrick tied her arms and legs to the chair. "Listen closely to what you're putting your friend through," Derrick said, taking the opportunity to rub his daughter's breasts again.
Inside the oven Whitney heard the 'click' again and started to cry. Her right breast was firmly pressed up against one of the heating elements, her right cheek against another and yet another pressed firmly across her ass. They quickly started to heat up, first just being uncomfortable but then beginning to sear her flesh.
She cried out in pain and despair, her muffled cries reaching Sam's ears and causing her to break down. "Stop! Stop!" Sam cried. "I'll do it! I'll cut myself! I'll kill myself! Just let her out of there, please." Derrick smiled. "Too late baby," he said with a sick laugh. "You have to listen to this. It was your vanity that caused this." The oven grew hotter and hotter for Whitney.
Her screams grew higher and higher in pitch as the smell of her burning flesh filled the oven. After a minute the temperature still hadn't reached 400 but her skin was seared beyond recognition.
The screams still didn't stop though. After listening and watching Sam babble and cry for a little while Derrick reached over and turned the oven off. "Let's see how good of a friend Whitney is to you now," he said, taking a dirty rag and gagging her mouth with it. He opened the oven door and reached in, pulling Whitney out and standing her up. Half of her face was burnt, blackened and bleeding. Her right nipple was unrecognizable.
Derrick walked over and put an arm around her, comforting her. "It's ok, it's ok. Were you able to hear what was happening out here while you were in the oven?" Whitney shook her head. "Well, all I asked Sam to do was call some of the girls she bullied in high school and apologize. She refused." Sam tried to scream the truth but the rag prevented her from making any intelligible noises. Whitney's jaw dropped as she looked at Sam, enraged at the idea that her friend had listened to her suffer instead of swallowing her pride.
"I can't believe you," she said to the helpless Sam. "You ungrateful bitch! I did everything for you! This is how you repay me?" She started to sob again, the tears burning her cheek. "I'll give you the choice again," Derrick said, putting the knife back in her hand and turning her toward the mirror.
"You can either use this on the girl who did this to you, or…" his voice trailed off as he motioned back to the oven. Whitney turned back toward Sam. "Where should I start," she said coldly, deadly. "Start with the face. Don't kill her though, not yet at least. Let her suffer." Sam turned her face away, shaking her head and crying, trying unsuccessfully to speak through the gag.
Whitney straddled Sam's shaking body and pressed the knife against the same spot on Sam's cheek that she had the first time, but this time pressed down and swept the blade across her face.
Blood started to pour from the wound as Sam let out a scream not unlike those Whitney had been just a little earlier.
She then took the knife and pressed it against Sam's forehead, pulling it down over her nose and making another deep gash. "Good job Whitney!" Derrick said, proud at what he'd reduced her to. "Again, again!" She took the knife and made cut after cut on Sam's face, leaving it a bloody pulpy mess.
The cuts weren't that deep though, and alone would have possibly taken days to be fatal. "Ok, I think you've done well enough on her face." Derrick said, holding the mirror so that Sam could see her disfigured face. "It's time to move on. Look at what she's done to your breasts! " Whitney took the cue and scooted back, holding Sam's right breast in her hand. She then began furiously stabbing it with the knife.
Sam's muffled screams filled the kitchen while Derrick looked on in delight. After a little while the breast was entirely unrecognizable as human and Whitney stopped, stepping back and looking at her work. "Perfect Whitney, perfect," Derrick said, stroking her hair on the side of her face that wasn't burnt. He then turned to his horribly disfigured daughter. Her body was convulsing and bleeding, tears streaming down her face.
"All you had to do was follow orders Sam. It didn't have to be like this." He took the knife from Whitney's hand. "Now you, back in the oven." Whitney's eyes shot open; deep down she had known all along that she'd be killed, but had hoped for it to be quick instead of slowly cooking.
"Please, Mr. Simpson, I did everything you said!" "Well then, keep it up and get back in the oven." Derrick waved the knife menacingly at her. Slowly Whitney complied, crawling in as she had before. "Please just kill me. Kill me quick, please!" Whitney pleaded, hoping for some mercy. Without a word Derrick closed the oven and placed the chair in front of it again.
He turned back to Sam, removing her gag. "See what you've done? See what you've done to yourself, and your friend? What do you think of all of this?" Sam was speechless, her tears mixing with her blood and running down her face. She was bleeding pretty heavily from her chest, and probably only had a couple hours left.
Derrick walked over and fondled her good breast. He then reached down and untied her, picking up her quivering body and placing it on the table. He tied her back down, immobilizing her arms and legs but not gagging her.
"Well, it seems the two of you only have a little while left to live. Since you apparently don't want to talk to me I guess I'll have to find some other way to amuse myself." He took the knife and pressed it into her abdomen, making shallow but painful cuts up and down her once perfect body.
He then picked up a bag of salt. "I suppose I could have marinated your friend, but it'll soon be too late for that." He picked up some of the salt in his hand and sprinkled it over the gashes on her body; first the fresh cuts on her stomach, then the deep gouges on her chest, and finally her face.
Each grain sent an overwhelming shot of pain through Sam's body.
"STOP!" she yelled. "STOP! I'm already going to die! Just kill me! Just… kill… me…" she cried. Derrick smirked to himself and walked over to the oven, turning it to broil. The heating elements immediately clicked on, and Whitney's fat breasts yet again were scorched.
Her screams were surprisingly loud for coming through an oven door.
Her skin began to turn red and she became delirious from the heat, finally slipping off into unconsciousness and finally death after several minutes of pure agony. Upon hearing Whitney's screaming stop Derrick turned off the oven, deciding to let it cool down while he toyed with Sam a little bit more. By this point Sam's screaming had stopped. She was very much alive and conscious but her body was so exhausted from the bleeding and pain that the only noise she could make was a soft cry.
The sight of his daughter's once beautiful body exhausted and disfigured turned Derrick on far more than he had thought it would. He climbed onto the table, straddling her body and spreading her legs, positioning himself to fuck his daughter.
He then reached down and spread his daughter's blood on his dick, partially for lubrication but mostly because it just turned him on. He slid into her pussy with surprisingly little resistance. Was his daughter a whore or had the experience just turned her on in some way he'd never expected? He thought about asking but knew that Sam was too weak to talk. Either way the sensation wasn't anything like what he had been wanting or expecting, so she would have to pay.
He pulled out of her and walked over to her head, conveniently at cock level. He rolled her head back so that they were looking each other in the eyes for one last time. "I love you Sammy-bo," he said sweetly, just as he had for all those years while she was growing up. He then grabbed the sides of her head and slammed his cock into her throat, mercilessly. Sam was still barely managing to breathe through her nose, but just barely. Her torn body rose and fell in desperation with each gasp.
Finally deciding to put his daughter out of his misery Derrick plunged his cock as far into her throat as he could and held her nose shut with his fingers. She barely lasted a minute. After her chest stopped heaving Derrick took his hand off of her nose, but continued to skull-fuck his dead daughter's body. It wasn't long until he came into his daughter's throat, where it would stay. Derrick collapsed on her body, exhausted, and laid in a mixture of her blood vomit and tears for a few minutes.
Finally collecting himself he stood up and opened the oven, pulling Whitney's body out and admiring his handiwork. Both breasts were now horribly disfigured, having been firmly pressed against the heating elements.
Half of her face remained unburnt but the half that had been was now blackened and unrecognizable. She hadn't really been an ugly girl; plain if anything. The unburnt side of her face seemed to look even more attractive for some reason, possibly because of its sharp contrast to the rest of her.
Her lower back and ass were unrecognizable as human, a shame since the chubby girl's two best features were now destroyed. Derrick picked up the body and laid it on top of Sam's. He pulled out a camera and took some picture, some of which the girl's disfigurement was obvious and some where it wasn't, and prepared an email to automatically send them to everyone in his address book in one week. He doubted his run would last a week but if it did the email could be cancelled, and if it didn't he wanted the world to know what he had done.
Finally done with the bodies he carried them one by one to a large closet he had emptied out just for this purpose. After some consideration he positioned Whitney's head in Sam's lap, with Sam's hands resting on Whitney's head. He then spent a little while sitting and thinking about what he'd just done. He'd raped and murdered his daughter and her friend, disfigured their bodies, and raped his daughter's corpse. All in all a busy afternoon. But there was no telling when someone would realize the two of them were missing, and eventually they would come to his house.
For then he had his revolver, but for now he had to make a simple decision. Which girl next?