A Brutal NONCON Dad/Daughter Erotica Short Story with BDSM (chained, spanking, gag, paddle), pussy fisting, exhibitionism (live stream), degrading language, and double penetration (monster toy and dick in the ass).

I feel the warmth of the ‘Slutty Kitten’ hit me in the face, and it instantly assaults me with the intense scent of sex lingering in the air. There is a faint drive that is barely palpable in this dimly lit, musty space, and loud music blares to cover up the intense slapping sounds accompanied by moans and grunts of men and women alike.

Everywhere I look, there is a woman straddled by a man or chained up in an exhibition watched by people who are determined to live out their sexual fantasies vicariously through them, and in a sort of way, I’m just like the people performing. The difference: I perform for a much bigger, kinkier virtual fanbase.

“Stella!” A loud voice booms over the din of the music, and a huge frame begins to push past the crowd on the dimly lit dance floor, barreling his way toward me. “Stella!”

I sigh with partial annoyance as Jerry hulks over until his thick, sweaty body is a few inches from my own, the thirst in his eyes much too obvious. It had been just one drunken night, and still, he could not get the taste of me off his tongue; his words, not mine.

“Are you back for a session or work, or can we maybe continue our date?” he asks with a twinkle of hopeful expectation in his eyes.

“It was sex, Jerry,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Not a date, just plain old sex, and I actually came here to work tonight. I just hit a thousand followers on my OnlyFans, and as a reward, I’m here to meet up with my most loyal subscriber.”

“Are you guys going to…?” Jerry asks with an intense look in his eyes, positively slobbering at the thought of me with someone else. “Can I watch you guys?”

“Beat it, perv,” I say, pushing past him. “I’m in room 303. My date’ll be in soon. Make sure we are not disturbed.”

I saunter off into the night, pushing past numerous groping hands and leering figures till I disappear down a dimly lit corridor. The door, faintly illuminated by disco lights, reads 303, and I enter. Inside is dimly lit, and it takes me almost thirty minutes to get the lighting right and set everything up, including my phone and Tripod. I pull my dress up and shift my panties as I take out my favorite toy, ‘The Destroyer, ’ a 15-inch dildo, and begin to rub it up and down, slicking it with oil and positioning it down towards my throbbing entrance.

“A little preshow before the main event,” I say and wink at the camera. I don’t have to look, but I know that the Destroyer's appearance has sent my fans on a wild spree, and the donations will come pouring out.

A loud moan escapes my lips as it stretches me out slowly, turning my mind into a pile of mush as I push it in deeper. It’s halfway in, and my breath now comes in hot bursts. As my unfocused eyes try to focus on the camera, a subtle yet slightly demanding knock fills up the room.

“Stella!” The deep baritone calls from the other end. The voice is strangely familiar, but I cannot place it. “Open up the door.”

“The show is about to begin,” I say to the camera and smile.

I walk up to the door and eagerly open it. My smile and color drain off my face as familiar, stony blue eyes stare me down. A subtle scar that has haunted me for a good portion of my life bears down on me like a weight. In his casual, plain tee and jeans, my father scowls at me.

“Dad,” I say in a choked voice and instinctively step backward. He barrels past me, almost knocking me on my ass, and slams the door shut behind him as he walks in. My first instinctual response is to rush to my phone atop the camera and instantly set it to mute.