Sins Of The Father Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"And anal, Father. Oh God, forgive me—I fantasize about you claiming my virgin ass. You lube me up with my own pussy juices, pressing your fat dickhead against my tight ring. I push back, whimpering as you force it in, inch by agonizing inch, splitting me open. It burns so good, and soon I'm bouncing on your dick, my ass cheeks spread wide, taking every veiny inch up my ass." She reached back, fingers tracing her own crack through her clothes, imagining his girth. "You ream me out, Father, your priest balls deep in my bowels, grunting like an animal. I rub my clit furiously, cumming so hard my asshole clenches around you, milking your load. You flood my guts with cum, plugging me up so it st

It was all too late. _________________________ Sisa* is the deranged mother of Basilio and Crispin in Jose P. Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere. Unable to stand up to her abusive husband, and later the Guardia Civil, Sisa went from one traumatic event to another, causing her to eventually lose her sanity due to the mental burden. This insanity manifested in her wandering around San Diego, calling out her children’s names, and singing songs out of nowhere. [Source: G****e]

Guilt weighed me down, and I couldn't drag my legs to the estate to see them. I knew my parents were alive and well. I intended to keep it that way – three, six, ten years from now. I got to work immediately. Now, I crossed the room wearing a simple cotton gown. "Let's see" I mumbled, bending a bit to pick up the files. I skimmed through them quietly, my eyes drinking in the content. The Sins were seven, but only six were documented. I knew of Roderick Blackstone, Sin of Greed, Fabio Rabbia, Sin of Wrath.

'This is the same man I hated. This is the same man, I wanted to torture and let him suffer. This is the same man I was willing to go an extra mile to hurt, but he has never for once done anything to hurt me, no matter how much I hurt him. No matter how much I tried to break him. I was wrong.' 'A father's sin does not define the child.'

The desire to persecute our sister and break her, destroy her and invade much more than her body? Miguel was no different from them and they were no different from our father. "Humans are complicated creatures" God said "I gave them the book of agency and thanks to that, they are condemned to sin." I wanted to laugh just for remembering. Sin. That’s what he called the mistakes he made in raising them. Sin. Sins that he constantly repeated. What comic would it be if they discovered the truth about their God? "Look well!" Miguel growled at 7 winds "look at what will happen to everyone who goes against his father’s will!"

And he was addicted to his little girl’s tight pussy. This was only the first story in the book of our sins. There were ninety-nine more ways to damn ourselves still waiting. And I could not wait to fall even deeper.

“You're falling for her, aren't you? Just like her mother made your father fall before I made them all pay.” What the– What does he mean? I saw red. My hands shot out, grabbing the Godfather by the collar, lifting him out of his chair. “What did you do?” I growled, my face inches from his. Shit. Don't lose control, Dermos. Don't give him the satisfaction. The old man's smile never wavered. “Everything.” He whispered. “And soon, she'll pay for their sins too.” Sins? What sins? What is he talking about?

Antonio smiled but Sarah felt a tiny pinch of guilt in her heart. If she was being honest, Ivan Holloway did not deserve anything she had her father had done to him. He certainly did not deserve what they were about to do to him. But as her father often said, "the sin of the father shall be visited on the child." No one could blame her, no one could point fingers at her. She was her father's daughter. Ivan continued to scream and throw things about while her father put on his act. "Mister Ivan! Mister Ivan!" He screamed as he rushed to him. Sarah watched from the foot of the door.

She knew what he really conjured up in the woods—not a creature from Hell or from fairy land—and Sally knew that David and the rest of Matthew’s family had been paying for it ever since. Sally was reminded of the argument she’d had with her mother as a little girl when she’d quoted scripture. The sins of the father will be visited upon the child, she’d said, and her mother had vehemently disagreed. She would, Sally supposed. No parent wants to think of their children being punished for the mistakes they made. Even still, if any proof were ever needed, it could be found in the crumbling brown pages of Matthew McCavendish’s journal. His sins had been visited upon each generation of the McCaven

The way a man might eye a glass of whiskey he wasn't supposed to touch but couldn't quite ignore. His gaze dipped, slow tracing the shape of my dress like he had every right. It lingered where it shouldn't have—on the curve of my waist, the slope of my hips. Then it came back up, calm, composed. Like he hadn't just undressed me in his mind. My skin prickled. "Sophia," my father said, unaware or pretending to be. "You remember Damian." "Yes Dad how could I forget your best friend?" A smile forced its way out of my lips as I said it.