Chapter 3: Daddy's Revenge

Liliana Miller

“Would you fuck me, Daddy?”

The words left my lips like a reckless prayer. I stayed pressed against his chest, swaying, waiting for him to push me away or pull me closer.

He stiffened. His large hands gently but firmly held my shoulders, creating just enough space between us. His voice was low, steady, laced with a roughness that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine despite everything.

“I’m not having sex with a drunk person, princess. Now come on, let me put you in a cab…”

“No… no…” I pulled back from his embrace, nearly stumbling. The room tilted again, but the fire in my chest burned hotter than the alcohol. “I’m not *that* ugly, am I? I just… I want to get back at my ex. He’s an asshole. Our wedding is in two weeks and he fucked my best friend. And he’s infertile — the whole time he let me think it was *me*. Please… come on…”

He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his white beard. “No. And that’s final on that point.”

His refusal only twisted the knife deeper. Everyone always told me what I could and couldn’t have. What I deserved. What I was worth. Tears stung my eyes again as I stepped closer, ignoring the way the floor felt like it was shifting beneath me.

I grabbed the front of his shirt with both fists and yanked him down to my level. Before he could protest again, I surged up on my toes and kissed him — messy, desperate, tasting of alcohol and salt from my tears. It wasn’t gentle. It was raw need. Revenge. A silent scream against every lie that had broken me.

For one heartbeat, he froze.

Then something shifted. A low groan rumbled in his chest. His hands slid to my waist, gripping harder, and he kissed me back. Deep. Commanding. Like a man who knew exactly what he was doing and had decided, in that moment, to stop fighting it.

The kiss grew hungrier. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming, and I melted against him, moaning softly. My body responded even through the drunken haze — heat pooling low in my belly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Make me forget,” I whispered against his lips, breaking the kiss just enough to beg. “Please… fuck me so good I can’t walk tomorrow. I need it. I need *you*.”

He cursed under his breath, eyes dark with conflict and desire. Then, in one smooth motion, he bent and scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing. I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively as he carried me through a side door and up a narrow staircase to what must have been private rooms above the lounge.

The door clicked shut behind us with a heavy finality that sent a dark thrill racing down my spine. The room was dimly lit, simple but clean — a large bed dominating the space, soft golden lighting from a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls. He set me down gently on the edge of the mattress, but I didn’t let go. My arms stayed locked around his neck like he was the only solid thing left in my crumbling world.

He took his time.

His large, calloused hands moved slowly, almost reverently, as he peeled off my tear-stained blouse. The cool air kissed my skin, making me shiver. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his breath hot against my collarbone as the fabric fell away. His white beard brushed my skin, sending sparks through me. “Even when you’re falling apart like this. That bastard didn’t deserve any part of you.”

He kissed down my neck, slow and deliberate, sucking lightly at the pulse point until I whimpered. Lower still, he unhooked my bra with practiced ease and let it drop. His mouth closed over one nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder, teeth grazing just enough to blur the line between pleasure and a sharp sting. I arched into him, a broken moan escaping my lips as he switched sides, lavishing the same attention on the other while his hand kneaded the soft, heavy flesh of my breast.

“These are perfect,” he growled against my skin. “Full. Sensitive. Made to be sucked on.” He bit down lightly, pulling a gasp from me, then soothed it with his tongue.

He lowered me fully onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as he worked my jeans and panties down my legs. Every inch he uncovered earned praise. “Look at you… so soft here,” he said, kissing the curve of my hip, his fingers digging into the flesh there from years of hormones and self-doubt. “These thighs… thick and warm. Perfect for wrapping around a man.” His lips trailed to my inner thighs, sucking marks that would bruise tomorrow. “And this pussy…” He spread my legs wider, exposing me completely. “Already dripping. Swollen. Neglected for too long.”

His white hair fell loose from the ponytail as he lowered his head. The first slow, deliberate lick along my folds made me gasp sharply, my hips jerking. He took his time — long, flat strokes of his tongue exploring every fold, savoring the taste of my arousal like it was the only thing that mattered. When he found my clit, he focused there with merciless patience: gentle flicks that made me twitch, then firm pressure and suction that had me crying out. Two thick fingers slid inside me without warning, curling just right to stroke that spongy spot deep within.

“Oh god… yes… please…” I moaned, fingers tangling desperately in his long white hair. The pleasure built slow and intense, a heavy wave washing away the sharp edges of my pain, but not the darkness. Alex’s face flashed in my mind — his cock buried in Mia — and it only made me grind harder against this stranger’s face.

He devoured me like a man starved. The wet sounds of his tongue and fingers filled the room, obscene and shameless. He added a third finger, stretching me, scissoring them while his mouth sucked my clit harder. My thighs shook violently around his head. The orgasm crashed over me without mercy — my back bowing off the bed, a raw scream tearing from my throat as I came hard on his tongue, gushing against his beard.

He didn’t stop. He kept licking and fingering me through it, drawing out every spasm until I was a whimpering, oversensitive mess.

But he wasn’t done.

He stood, shedding his clothes to reveal a powerful, muscled body marked by age and strength — broad chest with silver hair, strong arms, thick thighs, and a cock that made my mouth water: thick, veined, curving slightly, already leaking at the tip.

“On your knees, princess,” he commanded, voice dark and rough. “You wanted this. Show Daddy how bad you need revenge.”

I slid off the bed onto my knees, eager and shameless despite the alcohol still spinning in my head. He cupped my cheek, thumb brushing my swollen lips. “Open. I’ll teach you.”

I parted my lips obediently. He guided the head of his cock into my mouth. “Tongue first. Swirl it around the head… yes, like that. Good girl.” His praise was low, filthy. I licked and sucked, tasting the salty precum. “Now take more. Relax your throat. Breathe through your nose.” He pushed deeper slowly, his hand gentle but firm in my hair. “Hollow your cheeks. Suck while you bob. Fuck… your mouth is so warm and sloppy. Made for this.”

I gagged slightly as he hit the back of my throat, tears pricking my eyes, but I didn’t pull away. The slight pain mixed with the thrill of submission. He taught me the rhythm — slow, deep bobs, using my hand on the base, twisting while I sucked. Saliva dripped down my chin onto my breasts. He groaned deeply, hips twitching. “That’s it. Take Daddy’s cock like a desperate little slut getting revenge. Deeper… yes.”

I worked him for long minutes, lost in the act, my own arousal dripping down my thighs. He finally pulled me off with a wet pop, breathing hard. “Enough. On the bed.”

He pulled me up and turned me around. “Hands on the bed. Ass up.” I bent over the edge, gripping the sheets tightly. He rubbed the thick head of his cock along my slick entrance, teasing my clit, slapping it against me lightly. “Beg.”

“Please… fuck me raw,” I whimpered. “I need it. Make me forget him. Ruin me so I can’t walk tomorrow.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching me open with a deep groan. “Fuck… so tight. This pussy is gripping me like it’s never been properly fucked.” The fullness was overwhelming — pleasure bordering on pain as he bottomed out. He stayed there, letting me adjust, his hands possessive on my hips.

Then he started thrusting. Deep, powerful strokes that rocked my entire body. The sound of skin slapping skin was loud and filthy. Each thrust sent jolts of ecstasy through me. “Harder,” I begged, pushing back. “Please, Daddy… destroy me.”

He obliged, pounding into me with controlled strength, one hand fisting my hair to arch my back. “This is what you needed, isn’t it? Not that lying prick who couldn’t even breed you right.” His dirty words pushed me closer to the edge. Pain and pleasure blurred as he hit deep spots I didn’t know existed.

After what felt like an eternity of relentless thrusting, he pulled out, lifted me effortlessly, and carried me to the bathroom. Steam from the running shower fogged the mirror as he bent me over the sink. Our reflections stared back — my flushed, tear-streaked face, mascara ruined, his intense scarred gaze and wild white hair. He entered me again from behind in one smooth thrust, deeper in this angle.

“Look at yourself,” he commanded, one hand around my throat lightly, the other rubbing my clit in tight circles. “Watch Daddy fuck the pain out of you.” He pounded steadily, the wet slap of our bodies echoing off the tiles. I came again, screaming, my walls clenching around him as I watched myself fall apart.

We moved back to the bed, bodies slick with sweat. He sat on the edge and pulled me onto his lap, facing away — reverse cowgirl. “Ride me. Slow at first. Feel every inch.” I sank down onto his cock, moaning at the stretch. His hands roamed — squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples hard enough to make me hiss, then sliding down to rub my clit as I bounced. He guided my hips, making me take him deeper, faster.

The pleasure coiled tighter, darker. Revenge and release twisted together. “Don’t stop… I’m so close…”

He flipped us, keeping my legs over one shoulder as he drove into me. Not gentle missionary — possessive, controlling, his weight pinning me as he fucked me with long, devastating strokes. Each thrust hit that perfect spot relentlessly. The pressure built unbearably.

I was sobbing now, nails digging into his back. “Please… I’m gonna come—”

“Come for me, princess. Milk Daddy’s cock.”

It hit like a storm. My orgasm ripped through me violently, walls spasming around him as wave after wave crashed. I blacked out mid-climax, vision whiting out in pure bliss, his deep groan following as he buried himself to the hilt and filled me.