Emily pressed her back against the headboard, staring at the stuffed bear in her lap. Mr. Buttons had been with her since birth—faded, worn, and missing an ear thanks to a teething phase she didn’t remember. He had survived everything. But now, he wasn’t just a childhood relic.

He was watching her.

Her hands trembled as she turned the bear over. The soft fur had a small seam near the left eye, one she had never noticed before. Her stomach twisted as she dug her nail into the edge, peeling back the tiny stitches. That’s when she saw it.

A lens.

It was small, almost invisible unless you knew what to look for, tucked perfectly where Mr. Buttons’ black bead eye had once been.

Her father had been watching her.

Emily’s heart slammed against her ribs. The air in her room suddenly felt too thick, the walls closing in.

This was supposed to be her one safe space.

Her father was obsessed with control. He had cameras in the hallways, the kitchen, the living room, and even the backyard. He claimed it was “for their safety,” but Emily knew better. He liked to know where she was, what she was doing, who she was talking to. Her mother never questioned it. God sees everything, she always said, as if that justified the fact that her husband did too.

But Emily had always believed her bedroom was off-limits.

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the bear. How long had it been there? Had he seen her crying at night when she thought she was alone? Had he listened to her whispered thoughts, her private moments?

She felt sick.

A soft creak from the hallway made her freeze. She shoved the bear under her blanket and reached for her book, forcing her breath to steady as the doorknob turned.

Her mother peeked in. “Lights off soon, Emily.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emily said, keeping her voice even.

Her mother’s gaze swept the room, lingering just long enough to make Emily’s skin crawl.

“Good girl,” she murmured before shutting the door.

Emily didn’t move until she heard the soft click of her parents’ bedroom door down the hall. Then, she exhaled shakily and pulled Mr. Buttons back out.

She had to get rid of it.

But first, she needed to find out if there were more.

Because if there was a camera in her bear, what else had her father hidden?

"I'm home," Emily called out, tossing her book bag onto the couch. The house felt unusually quiet, almost eerie, as if it were holding its breath. She walked into the kitchen and saw a note scribbled in her mom's handwriting: "Went out with the girls. Don't wait up."

Her heart skipped a beat. It was the perfect opportunity for what she had been dreading for weeks now. Ever since she had realized the teddy bear on her bed had been watching her.

Emily took a deep breath and headed to her room, her palms sweaty. She knew what was waiting for her. The moment she stepped into the room, she saw the bear sitting innocently on her bed, the tiny camera lens glinting at her like a beady eye. She wanted to grab it and smash it against the wall, but she knew that wouldn't change anything. The damage was already done.

Her father was sitting in the chair by her window, his posture relaxed yet ominous. He held up his phone, the screen displaying the video she had hoped would never see the light of day. The evidence of her masturbating while moaning the choir boys name from church. Her cheeks burned with a mix of humiliation and anger. "Daddy, please," she began, her voice trembling, but he cut her off with a stern look.

"You know what you've done, Emily. Your mother would be so embarrassed," he said, his voice cold and calculated. She nodded, eyes downcast, unable to meet his gaze. "But I'm a reasonable man. I'm willing to keep this little secret between us... if you do something for me in return."

Her mind raced, trying to comprehend what he could possibly want from her. She was his daughter, for God's sake. But the hungry look in his eyes told her it was something she wouldn't like. "What do you want?" she whispered, fear coating her words like a thick, sticky glaze.

"Oh, you know," he said, his tone low and menacing. He leaned forward, the leather chair squeaking under his weight. "You're going to give me the same pleasure you've been giving yourself, but this time, it's going to be with me."

Emily felt a cold chill run down her spine as the reality of his words sank in. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with horror, but there was no mistaking the lust in his gaze. The room seemed to shrink around her as she took a step backward, her mind desperately trying to formulate an escape plan. But she knew there was none. The evidence was too damning, and the alternative was unthinkable.

Her father stood up, his tall frame towering over her. He took a step closer, and she could smell the faint scent of his aftershave, something that had always been comforting, but now just made her skin crawl. He reached out a hand, and she flinched, but he only grabbed the teddy bear, holding it up like a trophy. "You see, Emily, I know all about your little habits now," he said. "And I'm going to make sure you learn some new ones."

He tossed the bear aside, and it landed with a soft thud on the carpet. The act was so casual, yet it sent a message: she was at his mercy. He stepped closer still, and she could see the outline of his erection pressing against his pants. Her stomach churned as she realized just what he expected her to do. "But first," he said, his voice taking on a darker tone, "I want to watch you do what you do best."

Her father sat back down on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. With trembling hands, Emily reached for the hem of her shirt and began to lift it up. She felt exposed and violated, but she had to go through with it. If she didn't, he would show her mother the video. And she would be grounded for life. Forget ever having a social life. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the reality of the situation, focusing instead on the sound of her own breathing and the blood rushing in her ears.

As she revealed her bra-covered breasts, she heard his breath hitch. The room was so quiet she could hear the tick of the clock on the wall. She reached behind her back, fumbling with the clasp, and let the garment fall to the floor. Emily felt his gaze burning into her skin as she stood before him in just her panties.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Her father's eyes never left her as he approached, his gaze roving over her exposed body. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Now, I want you to show me what you do to yourself when you think no one's watching." His voice was a mix of demand and excitement. She swallowed hard, fighting back the bile rising in her throat.

With trembling fingers, Emily reached for the waistband of her panties, her mind racing for a way out. But she knew there wasn't one. She had to do this. She slid the fabric down her legs, stepping out of them. Her heart hammered as she climbed onto the bed, her legs spreading involuntarily at his silent command.

Her father's eyes gleamed as he took in her nakedness. "Now, show me," he breathed.

Emily's cheeks were on fire as she touched herself, her body moving on autopilot. She couldn't believe this was happening. The man who had taught her to ride a bike, read her bedtime stories, and kissed her forehead goodnight was now watching her with a hunger that made her skin crawl. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to escape into a different reality. But his eyes bore into her, forcing her to perform for his sick pleasure.

Her fingers danced over her clit, mimicking the motions she had performed so many times alone. Her mind was screaming for this to end, but her body had a traitorous response to the pressure, starting to betray her by reacting to the stimulation. She bit her lip to stifle a whimper, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Her father leaned in closer, his eyes glued to her pink, swollen flesh. He licked his lips, and she could feel his breath on her thigh. "Mm, just like that," he said, his voice gruff. "You're so beautiful, Emily."

Emily's eyes snapped open, and she saw the hunger in his gaze. She wanted to scream, to push him away, but fear held her in place. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, her movements growing more frantic as she desperately hoped this would be over soon.

Her father's hand reached out, stroking her thigh lightly, and she had to bite back a moan. The touch was both terrifying and electrifying. She had never felt anything like it before, and she hated herself for the way her body responded. "That's it," he coached, his voice strained. "Let me see you cum."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she did as he said, her fingers moving faster and faster. She could feel the tension building, the same way it did when she was alone, but this time it was tainted with dread. Emily's breaths grew ragged as she approached the edge, her body betraying her once more. She tried to block out his presence, but his touch on her skin was like a brand, marking her as his.

The bed dipped as he climbed on next to her, his hand sliding up her thigh to cover hers. His grip was firm, guiding her movements, increasing her pace. "That's it," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You're doing so good, baby." The pet name sent a fresh wave of nausea through her, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.

Emily felt her orgasm building, her body tightening like a coil ready to spring. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of watching her climax, but it was as if she had no control. She was trapped in a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

Her father's hand slid from her thigh to her hip, and then up to cup her breast. His thumb brushed over her nipple, sending a bolt of sensation through her. Emily gasped, her eyes flying open to find him staring at her, his eyes dark with lust. The revulsion and fear she felt was warring with the unexpected pleasure of his touch, and she hated herself for it.

He squeezed gently, his thumb continuing to circle her sensitive peak. "Keep going," he urged, his voice strained. "I want to see how much you can take." The weight of his hand grew heavier, his palm rubbing against her flesh in a way that sent shivers down her spine. His other hand joined in, the two of them working in tandem, rolling and pinching her nipples until they were stiff peaks of need.

Without warning, his mouth descended, enveloping one of her breasts. Emily's breath hitched as she felt his hot, wet tongue against her skin. He began to suck, hard, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh. It was a stark contrast to the gentle way he had touched her moments before, and it sent a shockwave of pleasure through her body that she couldn't suppress. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and she felt the beginnings of an orgasm building again.

Her father's eyes gleamed with victory at her response, his teeth grazing her nipple before releasing it with a pop. "See, Emily, this isn't so bad," he murmured against her skin. "You're enjoying it, aren't you?" She didn't answer, but the way her body was responding spoke louder than any words could.

His hand slid down to her stomach, his thumb tracing lazy circles around her belly button. He watched her face intently as he moved lower, his fingers dancing closer and closer to the apex of her thighs. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a mix of fear and arousal that made her feel sick and alive at the same time.

Barely eighteen, Emily had never been with a guy, never even been kissed. Her parents had kept her on a tight leash, shielding her from any kind of intimacy. At school, she had friends who whispered about their own experiences, but she had always felt like an outsider, a girl who didn't know the first thing about what was happening to her now.

Her father's touch was foreign, yet somehow familiar, as if her own hand had been hijacked by a darker force. She felt a twinge of arousal, and it disgusted her. How could she be feeling this way? It was wrong. But her body didn't seem to care about the moral implications. It responded to his touch with an innocent, untapped desire that she hadn't even known existed.

His fingers found their way to her clit, and he began to rub it with a firmness that made her hips jerk. Emily bit her lip harder, the pain helping to ground her in reality. She didn't want this, she told herself, but the sensations were overwhelming. The pressure grew, and she felt her body tighten, a knot forming in her core. Her father's eyes never left hers, his own hunger mirrored in the way he watched her. It was like he was feeding off her fear and embarrassment, using it to fuel his own depravity.

Her breaths grew shorter, her chest heaving as the feeling grew more intense. She couldn't believe she was doing this, couldn't believe she was letting him do this to her. But the orgasm was there, just out of reach, beckoning her like a siren's call. Her father's hand on her was like a brand, a symbol of his dominance over her. And with a final, desperate push, she reached the precipice.

Her body convulsed as the orgasm crashed over her, wave after wave of pleasure that was as much a violation as it was a relief. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, her eyes squeezed shut tight to keep the tears from falling. Emily felt like she was drowning in a sea of her own humiliation, her body's betrayal echoing through her soul. It was overwhelming, the sensation so intense she couldn't tell if she was screaming or if it was just in her head.

As her tremors subsided, she felt her father's warm breath on her stomach, his hands gentle on her hips, holding her in place. He leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste her, to claim her most intimate parts. His praises were like acid in her ears. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "So beautiful, so obedient." Each word was a knife, twisting in her gut, making her feel more and more like a doll being played with, a toy for his twisted desires.

Emily felt him lick along her slit, the sensation jolting her back to reality. She couldn't help but whimper, the sensation strange and unwelcome, yet her body's reaction was undeniable. His tongue was rough yet tender, lapping up the evidence of her climax. She felt his stubble scrape against her thighs, the sensation making her skin crawl. But his touch was also... comforting? No, she corrected herself fiercely, it was not comforting. It was violating, a breach of the most sacred trust she had ever had.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You taste so sweet." The words made her stomach churn, but she remained still, afraid that any movement would only encourage him further. Her father's tongue delved deeper, exploring her with a hunger that made her want to scream. She bit down on her pillow to muffle the sounds escaping her, her body trembling with every pass he made.

He took his time, savoring her, his tongue flicking against her sensitive flesh with a practiced ease. He knew exactly how to make her squirm. And as much as she hated it, she couldn't deny that her body was responding. The orgasm had left her sensitive, and his touch was driving her to the brink again.

"Look at you," he said, his voice filled with a dark, twisted pride. "So wet, so eager. You're going to make your daddy so happy." The words were like a slap in the face, and she forced herself to keep her eyes open, to not let him have the satisfaction of seeing her submit fully to his perverted desires.

He leaned in closer, his warm breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. His tongue traced the line of her pussy, and she couldn't help but shiver. The touch was wrong, so wrong, but her body reacted with a traitorous jolt of pleasure. He tasted her, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that made her skin prickle with revulsion and arousal.

As his mouth worked her, his hand slid up her body, his fingers finding her swollen clit. He circled it lazily, watching her face intently as she tried to keep her composure. She felt his fingers sliding through her slick folds. The intrusion was a shock, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Emily's eyes fluttered closed as he began to rub her clit with more purpose, his tongue matching the rhythm of his fingers. He was relentless, pushing her body to react even as she willed it to remain still. Her hips began to move on their own, grinding against his mouth, searching for more. It was a dance she didn’t want to lead, but she was powerless to resist the beat of his depraved symphony.

The sensation grew, a crescendo of pleasure that she desperately wished she could shut out. But it was there, building, demanding attention. She felt her father's hands tighten on her hips, holding her in place as he licked and sucked and rubbed, pushing her closer to the edge she didn't want to reach. The room was filled with the sound of his wet mouth and her own ragged breaths, the only music in a concert of horror.

"Tell me," he ordered, his voice muffled against her skin. "Tell me how much you like it."

Emily's eyes snapped open, her heart racing. She wanted to scream, to tell him that she didn't like it at all, that she hated him for doing this to her. But fear held her tongue. Instead, she managed a small whine, her body still shaking with the aftershocks of her forced orgasm.

Her father's grip on her hips tightened, his tongue pressing harder against her clit. "Come on, baby," he coaxed, his voice a dark caress. "Tell Daddy how much you love it." The words were like a hot brand, searing into her soul.

He pulled away, his eyes narrowing. "What's the matter, Emily?" His tone was deceptively calm. "You don't like when Daddy makes you feel good?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "You're going to tell me how much you like it, or I'll make sure you never leave this room again."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at him, his words echoing in her head. She had to play along. "I-I do," she managed to whisper, her voice trembling with fear and revulsion.

Her father's eyes lit up with a sadistic glee. "That's more like it," he murmured, his mouth moving back to her pussy. His tongue delved into her, tasting her deep as his fingers continued their merciless dance. The sensations were overwhelming, a storm of pleasure she didn't want but couldn't escape. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice a growl of need. "Tell Daddy how good it feels."

Emily's voice was barely a whisper as she choked out the words. "It feels good." She hated herself for saying it, for giving him what he wanted. But the fear of what he might do if she didn't was too great. His tongue swirled around her clit, and she felt her body start to respond again. "I like it," she lied, her voice shaking. "I like it when you do this to me."

Her father's eyes gleamed with triumph, and his mouth grew more insistent. He slid a finger inside her, and she couldn't hold back a gasp. "Tell me how much," he said, his voice a dark, demanding rumble. "How much do you love Daddy's tongue?"

"I love it," she whispered. But as she talked, she focused on the strange, unwanted sensations building inside her. The way his tongue flicked against her clit, the pressure of his finger deep inside her, the way her body seemed to melt under his touch despite the forbidden nature of the situation. She moaned and a gasp escaped that she couldn't hold back, her voice grew more earnest, her body betraying her further. "More," she heard herself say, her voice a needy whine that seemed to come from someone else, someone she didn't recognize.

Her father's eyes lit up at her words, his tongue moving faster and his finger sliding in and out of her with an ease that spoke of his confidence in his own power. She felt his free hand slide up her stomach, his thumb tracing the line of her ribs until he reached her breast. He pinched her nipple lightly, and she moaned, the sensation adding to the crescendo building in her core. "You're such a good girl," he murmured against her skin, his voice a mix of satisfaction and excitement.

The pressure grew, her muscles tightening around his invading digit as she approached another orgasm. Emily felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, her body responding to his touch despite her mind's desperate objections. She didn't want this, she reminded herself, but the feeling was too intense to ignore. She bit down on the pillow, her nails digging into the fabric as she climbed higher and higher.

Her father's mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking and swirling with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His finger moved in a steady rhythm, and she could feel her body opening up to him, betraying her with every pulse of pleasure. "That's it," he whispered, his voice filled with a dark, twisted satisfaction. "Cum for Daddy."

Her orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over her with a force that stole her breath away. She arched her back, her body writhing under his touch as she climaxed. She heard his chuckle, low and triumphant, as he watched her fall apart. And then, as the tremors began to subside, she felt something else. A pressure at her entrance, something thick and hard pushing its way inside her.

Her eyes flew open to see her father hovering over her, his pants open to reveal his erect cock.

She felt the tip of his cock push against her, the pressure building as he began to force himself inside.

"Daddy!" she gasped, her voice a mix of pain and fear as she felt herself tearing.

Her father's only response was a grunt of pleasure as he pushed further.

He didn't stop, didn't slow down, his hips slamming into hers with a force that made her eyes water. "So tight, Emily," he groaned, his voice strained with his own arousal. "So perfect." His hand wrapped around her throat, his grip firm but not quite painful, reminding her of who was in control. "Take it all, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Take Daddy's cock like a good girl."

Her body was a battleground of pleasure and pain, each thrust sending a jolt through her that she couldn't tell if she wanted more of or to escape from. She felt her walls stretching, adjusting to the invasive intrusion. Her father's praise was a twisted soundtrack, each word a knife that twisted in her gut. "You're so wet for me," he said, his voice a grunt of pleasure. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

Emily couldn't answer, could only whimper as he continued to drive into her, his movements punctuating the air with the slap of skin on skin. He was relentless, his strokes growing more and more demanding. She felt like she was being split apart, her innocence torn away with every inch he claimed.

Her father's hand slid back down her body, his thumb finding her clit again. He began to rub it with a firm pressure that sent sparks of pleasure through her despite the pain. "Look at you," he said, his voice a mix of amazement and lust. "You're so responsive. Those choir boys could never please you like this."

As he ravaged her, he whispered, "They could never make you feel like this, could they?" His voice was a taunt, a declaration of his power over her. "This is what a real man does to a woman, not those little boys."

The words, the sensations, they were all too much. Something inside Emily snapped, and she found herself begging for more. "Yes, Daddy," she whimpered, her voice thick with desire. "It feels so good." Her body was no longer her own, a mere vessel for his depraved needs.

Her hips began to meet his, her movements tentative at first, but growing bolder as she found a rhythm that matched his own. Her father's eyes widened with shock and then delight as she started to crave his touch. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a deep rumble of approval. "Fuck me back."

Emily's body was a symphony of sensations, each thrust sending her spiraling closer to the edge. She didn't want to admit it, but a part of her was starting to enjoy this, the feeling of being claimed by him. Her whimpers grew louder, her voice a siren's song of need. "More," she begged, her nails digging into his back. "Harder."

Her father's eyes grew darker, his grip on her hips tightening as he drove into her with renewed vigor. "You want it, don't you?" he growled, his breath hot on her neck. "You want Daddy's cock filling you up."

Emily couldn't deny it. The pleasure was a living thing, coiling in her belly, spreading through her veins like wildfire. Her walls clenched around him, trying to hold onto the feeling, to never let it go. "Yes," she moaned, the word a desperate plea. "I want more."

Her father's eyes lit up with a triumphant glee, and his pace increased, his thrusts more powerful and demanding. "You like it, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot and ragged in her ear. "You like it when Daddy fucks you."

The words were like a drug, making her body react in a way she had never felt before. "Yes," she gasped, her voice a desperate confession. "I want it, Daddy. More, please." The pain had morphed into something dark and addictive, and she found herself craving the very thing she had feared.