Masuk
ISABELLA The house felt heavier now, like the air itself was thickening with secrets. It had been a week since I first tainted Mom's creamer with the antifreeze, and the effects were showing more each day. She moved slower, her face drawn and pale, complaining of constant fatigue and a burning in her throat. "I think it's that damn flu," she'd say, forcing a weak smile as she sipped her morning coffee laced with another dose I'd added just hours before. Daddy watched it all with a mix of concern for show and that hidden gleam in his eyes, the one that said he was as complicit as me. Last night, after he'd fucked me senseless in my bed, his cock still buried deep in my pussy, he'd whispered, "She's fading, baby. Soon it'll just be us." The words had made me cum harder, clenching around him like a vice.This morning, I lingered in the kitchen, pretending to scroll through my phone while Mom shuffled in, her robe hanging loosely on her thinning frame. She poured her coffee, I added the
Isabella's POVThe days blurred into a haze of anticipation and guilt-tinged excitement. It had been three days since I'd spiked Mom's creamer with the antifreeze, starting small just a capful mixed in, enough to begin the process without raising alarms too quickly. She sipped her coffee every morning, commenting on how the brand must have changed because it tasted "extra sweet." I smiled through it, my pussy tingling at the secret power I held. Daddy knew now; he'd seen the jug in my car and pieced it together during our midnight fuck. Instead of stopping me, he'd thrust harder, whispering how my darkness turned him on. "You're my little poisoner," he'd growled, his cock slamming into my wet pussy as we fantasized about a life without her.This morning, Mom looked paler than usual, stirring her coffee slowly at the kitchen island. "I don't know, Isabella," she said, rubbing her temples. "I've had this nagging headache for days, and now my stomach's off. Maybe it's the flu going aroun
Isabella's POVThe kitchen smelled of fresh coffee and toast the next morning, a facade of normalcy that made my stomach churn. Mom bustled around, humming off-key as she poured herself a mug, adding her usual splash of creamer from the fridge. I watched her from the breakfast nook, my phone hidden in my lap where I'd been scrolling through discreet online forums about poisons. Ethylene glycol antifreeze. Odorless, sweet-tasting, deadly in small doses over time. I could buy a bottle at the auto store, siphon some out, and mix it into that creamer bottle. She'd sip it daily, none the wiser, until her kidneys failed. "Natural causes," the doctors would say. And Daddy? He'd turn to me for comfort, his cock finding solace in my pussy every night, no more hiding."Isabella, honey, you want some eggs?" Mom asked, snapping me out of my reverie. Her smile was genuine, oblivious. It almost made me feel guilty. Almost."Sure, Mom," I replied, forcing a grin. Daddy sat at the table, newspaper in
Isabella's POVThe sunlight filtered through the blinds of my dorm room, casting striped patterns on my bed where I sat cross-legged, staring at my laptop. Last night's encounter with Daddy still hummed in my veins, my pussy sore in the best way from how he'd claimed me. But that bliss shattered the moment I opened my email during lunch. It was a forward from his work account probably meant for someone else, or maybe he hit send too quickly. Attached was a photo that made my blood boil: his PA, Emily, in skimpy red lingerie, her tits spilling out, with a caption that read, "Missed you last night, boss. Can't wait for our next 'meeting'."I zoomed in, my fingers trembling. She was pretty, I'll give her that—blonde, curvy, with that fake innocent smile. But she was touching what was mine. Daddy's cock belonged to me, not her, and certainly not Mom. The jealousy twisted in my gut like a knife, sharp and unrelenting. How long has this been going on? Was she the reason he sometimes skipped
An Erotica Collection Isabella's POV Richard came into our lives like a thunderstorm unexpected, and impossible to ignore. He was the man who married my mom 3 years after my father's death. He was too beautiful for a man. Broad shoulders, chiseled abs, a tattooed body, and a perfect jaw not only that, but he was huge down below. I told myself I hated him, but the truth was darker. I felt something I shouldn’t have from the first moment his eyes met mine, something dangerous and magnetic. Now, every time I hear his voice in the house, every time his cologne lingers in the hallway, I remember the messages from my secret online Dom, the man who made me confess my every hidden desire. And I can’t help wondering if they were always the same person. I lay there in the dim glow of my bedroom, the clock on my nightstand ticking softly toward midnight. My heart raced every night around this time, knowing what was coming. Or rather, who was coming. My stepdad, Richard—Daddy, as I called him







