Homebound Routine

Hello. This is my first story here.

I didn’t expect something dark themed as my first submission, so I want to say in advance that this isn’t my usual style.

But I really wanted to post one right away so this is a little rushed but I hope you still like it.

I’m planning to continue.

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The last time Trixie was home, she was 15 years old. She left as soon as she could, applying for a community college 2 states away. At that point she felt that she had snapped, just before her 16th birthday she stole some money from her mom, packed a backpack, and left to stay with a girlfriend never to return.

Everyday she was felt like she was going crazy, stuck in a routine where no one even spared a glance. What kept her going even just for a little longer was the nostalgia; her childhood that was filled with happiness. She loved remembering those times the best.

A few months before it started, they had a big celebration for her brother, Eric, who passed an examination to a state university which meant he was leaving before summer ended. Everyday before he left felt like a party, and even after things were fine for a while…until they weren’t.

Now Trixie was going back to a house that was as empty as she was, the devil waiting for her.

“Ija, you made it,”

Trixie smiled at Ms. Johnson as she pulled her in for a hug. Ms. Johnson was her homeroom teacher all throughout high school and a close family friend.

The old woman gave Trixie a small pat on the back and stood back to look at her.

“You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” Ms. Johnson smiled.

Trixie felt a knot in her stomach, felt like she had just been punched in the gut. Probably the only person she could talk to in this town had said the things she feared to hear.

Trixie hated her femininity. She took an effort everyday to hide it: not wearing makeup, not keeping her hair kept, wearing plain, baggy clothing. Even now was wearing a loose plaid shirt over a tank top and cargo pants. Still, she wondered, how come that was the first thought that would come from people? Trixie wished Ms. Johnson was just being polite.

As she was about to ask about her mom and about what had happened, a chill went up her spine as she felt his presence behind her.

Two large hands came down her shoulders and she stiffened so much she forgot how to breathe.

“There’s my babygirl,” She heard behind her. “How was the ride?”

She let herself be pulled in his arms, not wanting to cause a scene. Ms. Johnson giggled at this interaction, leaving to let them have some privacy. Trixie wished she didn’t.

What other people might see as a normal greeting for a father and a child he hadn’t seen in a while was all a lie concealed conveniently. Beneath was the disgust: his arms pressing her onto him, his hands on her sides and something between his legs that were all too wrong. After all, people see only what they want to see.

He told her to get inside and make herself at home, to not be a stranger, but there Trixie was in the middle of the living room, inside the house that she grew up in, in the wake of her late mother, but feeling as if she was the elephant in the room. Suddenly she could breathe again. Being surrounded by strangers funnily made her relax. At least she was not alone with him.

She spoke too soon.

Returning from the kitchen, Doug brought her a bottle of water and gestured for her to be introduced to everyone inside. Trixie nodded meekly. She thought he would not touch her, not in front of all these people, not on the worst day of her life, in respect to her mother–his wife–but she digressed.

As he toured her around the room he had his hand firmly planted on her buttocks, her shirt covering the act. Occasionally he would grab her, then switched to massaging her and what she hated the most was when she was introducing herself to the guests, his fingers would probe her asshole.

She bit back her shame and tightened her smile. Let this be over.

As if answering her prayers, Doug told her to go ahead and visit her mom. Then, he told her, she could rest in her old room right after. She was on the second floor, on her bed in her room–they didn’t transfer her yet to a casket, preserving her in some way. Almost immediately Trixie ran up the stairs and headed straight to the master’s bedroom. She slowly opened the door, cool air from the air conditioner welcoming her. She saw her mom on the bed and slumped to the floor, spent.

The nightmare that she thought she had left behind, followed and dragged her back.

Tears sprung into her eyes as she studied her mother, beautifully laid on the middle of the bed. She was wearing a black long-sleeved dress that was from her own mother, hair softly around her looking just like she was sleeping.

Mom…

Not a second was given to Trixie to mourn as she heard the door close and lock behind her. Just the sound of those two consecutive clicks made her turn into ice. She knew what was coming.

Without a word Doug hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her up. She went limp, not having any energy left to argue except make small sobbing sounds.

“Welcome back, baby,” Doug whispered behind her ears as he pushed her onto the bedside drawer. “I missed you.”

Doug pulled back her shirt and raised her hips. He grabbed his dick, still in his pants, and started rubbing in between Trixie’s thighs.

“Oh, how’ve you’ve grown,” He grunted, his hands exploring her body.

Trixie turned her head to the side, staring straight at the window, avoiding her mother. Shame, disgust, dread, fear, she was feeling them all. She tried to numb herself from it but she was too shaken up.

Doug had pulled her pants down and was delighted to find a wet patch on her panties. He fingered her through them, looking even more lustful.

“You never change, babygirl. I like that. You were always weak around your ass, right? I remember. All those people down ‘er also helped, right? Were you excited? My baby got so wet waiting, eh? It’s been years, anyone taste you yet ‘ere, pumpkin.” He rubbed her lips but didn’t push inside. He was circling them, not even touching her clit just around and around, wanting to make her beg. He pushed her panties aside, almost tearing them, and played with her even more.

This time he took a single finger and probe it in her opening, then he would push it in all the way through and then pull it out as quickly, going back to her wet lips. In no time they were drenched, Trixie’s juices now rolling down her thighs.

She whimpered, her hips shaking under the torture. She knew what he liked–taming her, disciplining her, training her until she had no control of her body. Repetition, she remembered, he liked repetition and then when she least expected it–

Doug pushed his cock into her in one hard thrust. Trixie had her air knock out of her and quickly covered her mouth. In this room where her mother was resting in peace, she was taken again.

Doug gripped her hips and kicked her feet apart, not stopping his assault. Doug was like a well-oiled machine, consistent and fast. He fucked her roughly just ass he was doing labor. Not satisfied, he placed a hand on her small back and pushed her down, bringing Trixie’s hips even higher. Then he continued thrusting his hips on her ass, the friction moving the table, making it squeak. He’d like to think she was shaking her ass back at him, rubbing him, in an attempt to brace for the impact.

“You’re tighter than I remember,” Doug cooed in between thrusts. “Daddy’s happy he’s your first and last,”

The small sounds that escaped Trixie was like music to his ears. It added to the sweet orchestra of their bodies slapping together. It echoed in the room and whether Trixie liked it or not, that was all she could hear. He raised his free hand and slapped her left cheek and she squeezed down on him, having orgasmed. But Doug didn’t stop. In fact, this was his favorite part, this is where he could feel his daughter’s walls milking him, asking for his cock milk for all it was worth, begging to reach deep inside, and Doug would deliver.

Trixie panted, one hand grabbing onto the edge of the table, breasts rubbing on the wood, pussy sore and violated. She had a feeling he wasn’t stopping when she came–he never did–but she thought a couple of years would slow him down. She was wrong.

Doug dug even deeper, now bruising Trixie’s hips with his grip. “Here it comes baby, squeeze down on daddy like a good girl, yeah, that’s it,”

He slapped her ass some more, pushing his fat cock all the way to the hilt.

“Milk daddy’s cock, babygirl. You know how I love filling my daughter’s pussy, take my baby cum, Trixie, swallow them all for daddy!”

Trixie went limp for the third time this day. She didn’t care what sounds she was making, all she knew was that her well-trained pussy was doing what it was instructed to do: milk Doug dry. She could feel her walls pushing against and rubbing his cock, his semen inside her. She could feel it dribble down her legs, now creating a puddle of their mixed juices on the floor.

Doug rode it out; he had always been an ass man and the view of the half-cum half-sweat drenched pink butt beneath him was everything he had desired. Finally, he pulled out from Trixie but not before spreading her ass cheeks open and pumping more of his cum inside her asshole. He watched as he rubbed himself, her hole swallowing it all.

When he was finally satisfied, he stepped back and took in the sight as he wished he could burn it in his memory: his once adorable teenager had grown up with a body perfectly designed to pleasure him. He did his part of dirty work to train her to get to this point, but now it was all worth it he decided.

Doug shook his cock but then thought of a better idea, he went around to Trixie, obstructing her view of the window that was now showing a gray sunset, and told her to open her mouth. Within a few seconds, he was clean and as thanks he slapped his member on her cheeks a few times.

Trixie slowly rose up from her position as soon as she heard the door close. She turned and quickly locked it, falling to the floor in sobs.