My Reward, Ch49 (MC, Mf, mf, mild nc, humil)
   CHAPTER 49: CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

   "So, Sarah, what've you been up to lately?" I asked casually as I
entered the family room.  She was watching some brain-dead sitcom with an
annoying laughtrack that to my ear merely emphasized how unfunny most of
the dialogue was.  But you're not here to listen to me rail against the
vast wasteland, are you?  I had had Reward send Chris and Thomas out on an
errand so that Sarah and I could be alone.

   She barely glanced up as she replied, in her usual bored voice, "Nothing
much."

   "Nothing new?  Like blackmailing people?"

   The look of shock was delightful.  "He told you?" she gulped out after a
long pause.  I could see the wheels clicking as she calculated her
situation.

   "Not exactly."

   I was surprised at the speed of her recovery.  And, in a perverse way,
rather proud.  My daughter was a quick thinker, and moved quickly into a
strong fallback position.  "You can't stop me -- what he's doing is
illegal, and I have a perfect right to go to the police," she said.  Then
her wheels started clicking again -- it was a hastily taken position, good
for a temporary defense while she regrouped, but she needed a
counterattack.

   "Going to the police is one thing, but that isn't your intention, is
it?" I asked, waiting for her next move.

   She was ready now; I saw her smirk come back, then turn into a sneer. 
"If you try to stop me, I'll ruin you the same way.  I'll tell them you've
been screwing me since I was twelve." Once embarked on a career of crime,
Sarah wasn't going to let a little thing like perjury stand in her way (and
of course it wasn't totally perjury, though she didn't know that).  Her
confidence increased as she spoke and she saw the power of this attack. 
"What'll Mom say when she hears that?  She'll cut your nuts off."

   She paused to study my look of shock, as I had recently enjoyed hers. 
She'd really stop at almost nothing.

   Emboldened, she went on.  "So what did the great O'Malley stud tell you?
He told you I was blackmailing him, but did he tell you that he took your
daughter over to California and fucked her silly all one weekend?" She was
speaking fast now, pressing her advantage.  "Yeah, did he tell you about
having me and Ashley in the sack and doing us both at the same time?"

   "Well, actually," I said slowly, "he didn't exactly tell me those
things." I crossed to the sofa and sat down.  "Perhaps you ought to show me
the sort of things you did with him."

   Again, a look of shock, followed by an even greater shock as she
realized she was nude, and still greater as she felt herself walking toward
me and then kneeling in front of me, suddenly aware that, independent of
her will, her hands were unzipping my pants and her mouth was taking in my
cock.

   She tried to say something starting with "What the hell . . .  ?" but by
that time her mouth was full of cock.  Her lips closed over the head of my
prick, then slid steadily down the length until her nose was almost
brushing my belly.  Her tongue was dancing around the head, poking at the
hole, then wrapping around the head, swirling and tickling.

   As Sarah's head began bobbing up and down on my cock, I asked, "Is this
what you did for Tom O'Malley?"

   She looked up and nodded her head, which made my cock bump against the
roof of her mouth.  Then she began sucking again as I commented that I
could understand why he had enjoyed the weekend with her so much.  "He told
me that you're one hell of a slut, that you'd do almost anything except
buttfuck.  Is that true?"

   Again she looked up at me, uncomfortable with the question, but
beginning to get turned on, despite (or perhaps because of) her
helplessness.  She nodded again.  It suddenly occurred to me that using
Sarah sexually against her will was not necessarily going to be a
punishment for her.

   But it was certainly, as always, a pleasure for me.  Sarah's mouth was
squishing wetly as she drove her lips up and down the length of my shaft,
speeding up as she could feel me nearing my climax.  I grabbed the back of
her head and drove my cock deep into her mouth, burying her face in my
belly, then pulling back and pushing forward twice more before my sperm
shot out into her throat.

   As I released her and leaned back onto the sofa, Sarah fell backwards
onto the floor in front of me.  Her legs were apart and her fingers buried
deep in her pussy.  I watched her frigging herself, the fingers of one hand
driving deeper into her vagina, her other fingers rubbing in a circular
motion on her very erect clitoris.  Her eyes were closed and a look of
intense concentration was on her face.

   Her hips drove up at her fingers.  Her large breasts, standing nearly
straight up despite her position, jiggled slightly as her hips thrust up.
Both her hands moved faster as her fingers dug in deeper, and her breath
came faster and louder, eventually becoming a series of choking gasps as
she strove harder for her climax.

   Still she sped up more, her face flushed red with the exertion, now
seemingly not breathing at all as she grunted with the effort of bringing
herself off.  Her hands dug deeper into her cunt, her hips drove up harder,
and it seemed her entire body was in motion.

   Then, suddenly, everything stopped.  She froze, and just a brief
high-pitched yelp escaped her lips.  She remained rigid for several
moments, her hips suspended six inches off the carpet, her mouth open after
her cry, before gradually settling down with a whistling sigh.

   Then she lay there, her knees spread lewdly wide, one hand falling limp
to the side, the other remaining buried in her pussy, her head lolling to
the side with a blissful smile on her face.

   A moment before, I had been lying back, satisfied, after my blowjob,
while Sarah was hot and needing release.  Now she was satiated, and I was
once again ready, turned on by watching her masturbate.

   Even if I had cared whether she wanted to fuck, however, there would
have been nothing to worry about, since it didn't take Sarah long to get
ready for another round.

   Just as I slid down to the floor beside her, Sarah was stirring.  Her
eyes opened as I neared her and she smiled, opening her arms and saying,
"Oh yes, daddy.  I want to be fucked."

   "You're daddy's little slut, aren't you?" I asked.

   Again she looked uncomfortable at the way I was talking, but quickly
recovered.  Something I remembered from our previous experiences was that
Sarah loved to talk dirty during sex.

   She smiled lewdly.  "Yeah, I'm my daddy's slut.  I love having my daddy
shove his cock into my hot little cunt."

   "How about your hot little ass?" I asked.  She paused, uncertain.

   "It's good you didn't buttfuck for Tom O'Malley," I went on.  "That way
you still have a cherry to give your father."

   "No, daddy," she said urgently, "just fuck my pussy -- I don't think I'd
like it in my ass." She became coquettish and cajoling.  "You'll like my
pussy, it's hot and tight." She reached between her legs to pull open the
lips as far as they'd go.  "Look at my fuckhole, it's all hot and wet for
you.  C'mon," she urged, "fuck your little girl."

   "I don't care what you'd like," I said, softly but firmly.  "I want your
ass -- so spread your cheeks."

   Sarah looked a little frightened, but just said, "I don't know how to do
it."

   "It's easy," I said.  "Put your knees up all the way, then reach under
and open wide."

   She did as she was told, and I knelt over her, looking down on her as
she looked nervously up at me.  My god, what a sight!  My daughter was, as
I've said many times before, an incredibly beautiful young woman.  She was
doubly so right now, lying on her back, her beautiful breasts jutting up,
her legs spread wide, her wet pussy glistening, and her hands holding open
her virgin ass, the little puckered hole barely peeping open.

   She looked up at me expectantly.  "Is this the right way?"

   "That's it," I said as I lowered myself down on her.  She took in her
breath sharply as the head of my cock brushed against the little hole.  "Is
it going to hurt?" she asked in a little voice.

   "Probably some," I answered.  "The more you relax, the less it will
hurt."

   She nodded as my cock pressed against her asshole, pushing slightly
forward.  She tensed as the head pushed through and I paused briefly before
pushing again.  She winced as the full head passed through her sphincter.

   "It hurts," she said.

   "Feels good to me," I answered, though I paused again for just a moment
before pushing just a little more forward.

   "Please go slow," she whimpered as another fraction of an inch entered
her.

   "Slow?" I asked mockingly.  "You're a slut, aren't you?  Sluts are
supposed to be fucked hard." I pushed another fraction forward.

   Sarah said nothing more, just gritting her teeth as I pushed steadily
forward.  Actually, by that point the worst (from her standpoint) was over.
My cock now slid steadily in, and after only moments more my belly was
resting against her pussy and my cockhead was far up in her bowels.

   I rested, again, for just a moment, before beginning to draw my cock
slowly out.  When only a bit of the head remained inside her sphincter I
pushed forward again, not hard, but with a steady motion.  Sarah winced
again, but when I repeated the movement she took it without apparent pain.
Again and again I pulled out, pushing forward a bit harder each time. 
Finally I felt the first response from Sarah.

   "You like it, don't you?" I asked.

   "It's . . .  good," she responded, after a pause.

   "You're a real slut, aren't you?" I asked.

   She looked up at me defiantly.  "Yes," she said.  "I'm a slut.  I love
having men stick their cocks in me.  I'm a fucking little whore, and I have
my father's cock in my ass and I love it."

   It was as though I had pushed the "filthtalk" button.  She was started
and she kept going as her hips began pushing harder up at me and my cock
drove faster and deeper into her ass.

   "Fuck my ass, daddy!" she urged.  "Fuck your sweet little girl's butt!
Stick your cock way up inside me."

   She paused only briefly to catch her breath as I began pounding harder
into her.  "C'mon," she yelled.  "Look at me, daddy.  Look at your little
girl spread wide open so you can fuck her.  I'm a slut.  You're right, I'll
open my legs for damn near anybody.  All I want is to have a cock in me --
I'll fuck anything that moves."

   I was getting hotter and hotter as I listened to her talk and as I felt
the delicious tightness of her virgin ass.  I slammed down into her harder
now, as she raised her hips up higher and pushed her ass back against my
cock.

   "Stick it in me!" she yelled, then howled as the first waves of her
orgasm began.  "Fuck me!  Fuck me!  Fuck me!" she screamed, then there were
no more words, just a shout of ecstasy.  I slammed her ass a few more
times, feeling her contractions, then buried my cock deep inside her,
grinding against her as I tried to get it farther up, and shot my sperm
into her bowels.

   I had certainly enjoyed this excursion into my daughter's bowels.  But,
I reflected as I pulled my cock out and looked into the still-gaping hole
leaking my seed, so had Sarah.  And that wasn't part of the plan.

   Sarah knew how much I had enjoyed it and, confused as she was by the
power she was beginning to realize I held, she still thought she was in a
good bargaining position.  As she recovered from her orgasm, she began
kissing my belly, working up to licking my nipples.  "Wasn't that great,
Daddy?" she asked seductively.  "There's no need for you to stop me, we can
get the money and then you can fuck me like that all the time."

   She rolled onto her back, spreading her legs.  "Let's do it again," she
cajoled.  "Pussy or ass, I don't care."

   She was too eager.  "No, I don't think so, Sarah." I shook my head. 
"You know, you told Tom O'Malley once that you were the school slut . . .
."

   Not an exact quote, but close enough.  She just stared.

   ". . .  and just now you said you'd fuck anything that moves -- have you
fucked every guy in the school yet?" I asked.

   She shook her head dumbly, too confused to protest the insult.

   "Who haven't you fucked?" I asked.

   As she stammered, I amended the question.  "Who is the absolute last
person in the school you'd let near your pussy?"

   I had Reward dose her with truth serum, since I didn't trust her to
answer correctly.  "Rodney Resnewski," she answered slowly, reluctantly,
her nose wrinkling in distaste at the name.

   Again I called on Reward, this time to provide me with a mental image of
Rodney Resnewski.  Almost immediately, I regretted my decision -- it was
not a pretty picture.  Rodney was a kind of poster child for Murphy's Law
-- almost everything that could go wrong, aesthetically, with a male human
being, had gone wrong with the boy.  Thick glasses, advanced acne,
buckteeth, misshapen nose, scraggly hair, obesity . . .  you name it,
Rodney had it in excess.  Add to this a body odor that was the envy of
every skunk in the southwestern states and halitosis that had been known to
set afire the surgical masks that prudent people generally wore in his
presence, throw into the mix a personality as repulsive as his appearance,
and you have a subject worthy of my evil plans.

   The nature of my evil plans began to be revealed to Sarah when I told
her to call Rodney Resnewski and invite him over.

   In response I got a sneering, "Yeah, right." The sneer, however, was
replaced by a look of horror as Sarah found herself picking up the phone,
dialing, and saying seductively, "Hey, Rodney, this is Sarah Mallory; I
wonder if you could come over to my house?"

   "Oh, I don't know," she said coyly, in answer obviously to his question,
"maybe we could, you know, just do something.  My parents aren't home," she
added.

   Just in case Rodney was not a total idiot, I had Reward allay any
suspicions he might have that he was being set up, and very shortly the
doorbell rang.

   We had occupied the interval by Sarah asking me repeatedly, and in
various forms, what the hell was going on, how I could make her call him
("I don't even know the asshole's phone number") . . .  to all of which I
replied, "Figure it out."

   "I told him my parents aren't here," she pointed out.

   "I'll make myself invisible," I replied.  Her mouth gaped open, but she
didn't ask any more questions.

   We knew Rodney had arrived before the bell rang, since his smell
preceded him by some distance.  Okay, I'm exaggerating, but he was awful.
When Sarah opened the door I almost (but not quite) felt sorry for her.

   Rodney couldn't see my pity, however, since he couldn't see me.  Nor
could he see Sarah's horror at being in such proximity to this walking (or
waddling) horror, since what he saw was her simpering prettily and saying,
"I'm glad you hurried, Rodney -- that means we'll have lots of time alone."

   Rodney was still questioning his luck, though, and couldn't avoid
asking, "Why did you invite me over, Sarah?  You've never talked to me
before.  You and your gang treat me like a fuckin' leper."

   "That's one of the things I like about you, Rodney," Sarah found herself
answering.  "You don't care what people think.  You're the lone, silent,
mysterious outsider."

   I saw an opportunity to have some fun here, and I let Reward take over
writing Sarah's dialogue for her, but told him to have her make it really
thick, and also to have Rodney buy it, no matter how thick it got.

   Sarah looked down at her feet shyly, and said slowly, "I was afraid to
talk to you, Rodney.  I thought you were too far above me, and I was afraid
of rejection.  But today, I decided I just had to take a chance, or live in
regret forever."

   As Rodney's chest swelled, to a point where it at least competed for
prominence with his belly, Sarah went on.  " I can't help it," she said
breathily, "I really go for grossly fat, ugly guys."

   Rodney, clearly overwhelmed by such sweet talk, was no less surprised at
her words than she was.  He smiled at her yellowly and stepped toward her,
causing a further outpouring of Sarah's verbal passion.

   "How I've longed to run my hands through your greasy, unkempt hair," she
said.  "To kiss your pimples, and to rub myself against your belly while I
feel the sweat stains on your bulging polo shirt.  I want you close to me
so I can fully immerse myself in all your noxious odors while I caress your
rolls of fat.  I've lain awake nights dreaming of having you between my
legs, though probably my legs won't open that wide."

   While this talk was clearly getting Rodney seriously worked up, he was
also pretty much immobilized by it.  Nothing like this had ever happened to
him and he didn't know what to do next.  I helped him out by having Reward
take his and Sarah's clothes off.

   I almost immediately regretted it -- he looked even worse than I might
have imagined.  But then, that was the plan, wasn't it?  The look he saw on
Sarah's face, however, was awestruck admiration.  "Ooh, Rodney," she cooed.
"You're so sexy -- your tits are bigger than mine."

   I had to admit she was almost right, though in fairness hers were
firmer.

   Rodney, too, was impressed by what he saw.  "Shit, Sarah," he said
eloquently, "you're prettier than some of those babes I download from the
binaries groups.  I like to jack off when I'm looking at them," he added,
reaching down to the penis hidden below his massive belly.

   That gave me an idea, and I had Sarah lay back on the bed and open her
legs.  "Would you like me to pose for you?" she asked.  "Maybe I can get
you just as hot as the girls on the net."

   Rodney couldn't speak, but managed to nod dumbly as Sarah began striking
a series of poses, her tongue licking out from her mouth, holding her
breasts out toward the non-existent camera, spreading her legs, pulling her
pussy lips wide.

   Merely being a voyeur at this scene was beginning to be unsatisfying. 
Perhaps because of the presence of two high school kids, perhaps merely
because I had thought of her several times since the football game, I
remembered the cheerleader I had fucked that night.  I had Reward summon
her clone, who was immediately beside me, in her cheerleader outfit, the
skirt of which she lifted with a leering glance at me, to assure me that
she was once again pantieless.

   Then she looked around.  "Sarah?" she said in surprise, then turned to
me.  "I didn't know you were Sarah's father," she said.  Then she took in
the rest of the company.  "Rodney Resnewski?!?!" Her nose twitched. 
"What's he doing here?" she asked me.

   "He's Sarah's new boyfriend," I replied, setting her off in a torrent of
giggles, accompanied by a gasp of horror from Sarah.

   "Geez," the little cheerleader said with a mix of amazement and
anticipation, "wait till I tell everybody at school about this.  Geez," she
repeated, "Sarah Mallory and Rodney Resnewski.  Jason's really gonna be
pissed."

   "How about a blowjob?" I asked, feeling that our past relationship had
put us on a plane where subtlety was unnecessary.

   "Sure," she answered, getting down on her knees in front of me.  "That
way I don't have to look at him."

   She lowered my pants and slipped my cock into the moist warmth of her
mouth, after first licking its length.  After a few sucks, she turned to
sucking my balls, then was back to my cock.

   The little cheerleader's mouth was, as on the previous occasion,
delightful, and was assisted in its ability to arouse me by the show I was
watching.  Sarah was, as always, gorgeous and she was putting on quite a
display of perversity.  Though many of the poses were ludicrous, they were
also sexy as hell and had quite an effect on both Rodney and me.

   Rodney, on the other hand, was as anti-erotic as it's possible to be,
but periodically I forced myself to look over at him to see how he was
doing.  He was doing quite well, it appeared, his hand stroking back and
forth on his cock as his eyes were glued to Sarah's performance on the bed.

   Just when I thought Sarah might be running out of variations on thrust
out chest, spread legs, get on all fours and wiggle butt, Reward provided
her with a dish of vegetables to insert into her various orifices. 
Carrots, cucumbers, and other appropriately shaped gifts of the earth went
into her cunt and ass.

   When this grew old, he began dressing her in different costumes.  First
she was in a slinky satin teddy, then a dom's black leather, then a
Japanese schoolgirl's sailor suit, and finally tight vinyl/pvc.  In each
costume she again went through the standard poses and played with the
vegetables.

   I was getting hot and stroking harder into the willing mouth before me.
Judging by his breathing, Rodney was near eruption as well.

   Finally, Reward had Sarah tied to the bed, her legs spread wide and able
to move only enough to thrust her hips forward in a fucking motion.  "Oh,
Rodney, Rodney," she gasped, "please fuck me, Rodney."

   Rodney, however, didn't fuck her.  It was too late for that.  He stepped
closer to the bed and shot his sperm onto her face.  Meanwhile I grabbed a
ponytail and pulled my little friend closer as I shot my load down her
throat.

   As I pulled my cock out of her throat and mouth, with thanks, I made the
girl disappear.  Then I looked at Rodney and Sarah.

   I saw him standing over her, the last drips of sperm hanging from the
end of his cock, his eyes still closed in bliss.  I watched his sperm drip
down Sarah's nose and off her chin, accompanied by a little tear coursing
down each cheek.  I still didn't feel sorry for the brat, but I decided
she'd had enough for now.

   So Rodney put his clothes back on, kissed Sarah good-bye and left, after
suggesting, to Sarah's horror, a return engagement the next day.  She
smiled sweetly, however, and told him she would be counting the minutes.

   When he was gone, though, and Reward removed his controls, she wailed,
"My god!  He'll be talking about me all over the school.  Nobody would
believe him, but Mandy will back him up." Then another, even more
horrifying thought struck her.  "He'll try to talk to me!"

   "Is that her name?" I asked.  "Mandy?  I always just think of her as the
second cheerleader from the right."

   "She gives you blow jobs, and you don't even know the little bitch's
name?"

   "I'll admit it's a somewhat unorthodox relationship," I acknowledged. 
"You don't like her?"

   "She's a slut," Sarah snarled.

   I recall reading that Ty Cobb, the legendary baseball player and
scumball, once described a pitcher from his era, Carl Mays, as "a dirty
player." I've always thought of that as the ultimate example of a pot
calling the kettle black, but Sarah referring to somebody as a slut was
certainly a close second.

   Sarah of course didn't know that the Mandy she saw was a clone and that
the real Mandy didn't know about her liaison with Rodney.  But that was
okay, because I'd give Mandy the information.

   "So you're afraid Jason will hear about your little fling and say,
'Begone from me, scarlet woman,' or something like that?" I asked.

   Apparently Sarah hadn't even considered Jason up to this point, since
she gasped, "Omigod!" and wailed in dismay again.

   I felt a little sorry for Jason, since social pressure would make him
give up what was certainly one of the finest pieces of ass he'd ever have,
and he was pretty much an innocent bystander.  But, I reflected, he'd still
be getting enough good nookie from his sister to tide him over.

   My main concern, however, was with my punishment campaign.  Turning
Sarah over to Beth for s&m/b&d was not to my taste; and fucking her silly
had failed (as even a moment's reflection would have told me it would)
because she enjoyed it too much.

   The experiment with Rodney was the worst flop of all -- not only because
I couldn't stand to have the kid around, but more importantly because
humiliation is not one of my favorite things.  Obviously, I needed to give
the matter more thought.

   At the moment, however, the sight of Sarah, still tied spread-eagled on
the bed, and still as beautiful and sexy as ever, had me pretty hot.

   I had Reward clean Rodney's leftovers off her face, then placed myself
between her legs and entered her with a single stroke.  Sarah grunted in
mild discomfort as my cock entered her, but by the third or fourth stroke
was moving her hips in time to mine, and soon after was urging me on with
whispers of, "Fuck me, daddy."

   I began pushing into her harder, drawing heightened responses from her,
when something reminded me of the time I fucked Mandy at the football game.
And that gave me the idea for Sarah's next punishment.