The Final Lesson

All of the incidents in this story are fiction, but the relationship between the two main characters is based on my relationship with my lover. The story is dedicated to her.


“Are you ready for this, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m always ready for anything you have for me.” Anne smiled sweetly. She calls me “Daddy” because I’m much older than she is, and because we share fantasies about incest. It says something about our relationship that the incest fantasies are one of the tamer aspects.

I looked at her, took in the love and devotion shining on her face, and her curvy, sexy body, naked of course, and once again realized just how lucky I was to have found her. She was just a teenager that night, alone on the streets. Whether she was a runaway or simply had no home I never found out, never cared. I took her in, as I had others before her, but found that there was something different about her, something special.

I raped her that first night, of course, but only after I had fed her, let her warm up on a chilly night. I’m not heartless, after all. But eventually I had to have her, ripped her clothes from her body, threw her down on the bed, forced myself into her, felt her hymen rip away as I violated her virgin body.

“God, no don’t, please DON’T!” Her screams and sobs were useless, they simply drove me into a greater frenzy, along with the feel of her virgin blood seeping around me as I plunged into her again and again. She kept screaming, pleading, until just about the time I felt that I was going to explode inside her. Then she screamed again, but differently this time, exultation having replaced fear and disgust on her face.

“Oh god, fuck yes! Aaahh, uh… uh…uh!” I felt her body shudder, her muscles gripping my shaft, her fingers clawing at my shoulders. My seed poured into her, mixing with her juices, her blood. As I lay on top of her, panting, I realized that she was special, that she might be the one.

She bears my marks now, showing that she is mine. On her back and shoulders. On her breasts and belly. On her inner thighs. Marks from my whip and collars, my teeth and nails, in a couple of spots marks from my knife. She has accepted them all willingly, gratefully, proud to be mine, to know that I love her. Each time I’ve needed her to take another step on the road to depravity and degradation she has followed with a smile.

The rape and the incest fantasies were just the beginning. When I forced her to suck me, or raped her anally, she thanked me. When I tied her up, whipped her, beat her, she only begged for more. Her body quivered the first time I dragged the point of my knife along her skin, she gasped and chewed on her lip when I let it penetrate her skin just enough to draw a drop of blood.