Vicky seemed quite content, making her lists and dreaming her dreams, safe behind her little walls, so Slutty Vicky felt it best not to bother with her. She was, currently, making plans for a girl’s school, funding scholarships for disadvantaged women, particularly abuse survivors and rape victims. The place would have the best counselors, dormitories, and even childcare facilities. She’d call it The Hope School and it would be a shining beacon of female empowerment, that women from all over the world would flock to.
Slutty Vicky, meanwhile, entered her father’s outer office with her hair disheveled and semen in her cunt. She’d taken a subway over to the office, dressed like a slut, and it had gotten her fucked in a public bathroom, with her tits mashed against the wall of a filthy stall. The desk girl took in the sight of her and said, “Rough ride, huh?”
Vicky nodded. The girl came around the desk and slapped her without asking, then again, which left the required handprint, but instead of making her cry the slap just caused her to moan happily.
“You’re gonna need something else for the tears, honey buns,” the girl remarked, and bent over her desk.
She produced a binder clip, which she opened and then stuck between Vicky’s legs. The clip snapped shut on her clit and Vicky screamed. This produced the required tears, and then the girl gave her another slap to redden her cheeks once more, before finally paging the old man. Vicky quickly removed the clip, tossing it back on the desk, tears running down her cheeks, as the old man allowed her to enter.
She shut the doors to the office and waited, sniffling, her clit throbbing. The old man beckoned her forward.
“By the look of you,” he said, “I’d guess that someone recently showed you what you’re good for.”
“Yes, Sir,” she sniffled.
The old man rounded the desk and pushed his fingers up her cunt, found it wet, nodded approvingly, and then put his fingers into her mouth. Slutty Vicky licked them clean and received another nod of approval.
“You have something to show me?” he asked.
Vicky handed him her phone. The old man opened her gallery and found the videos, each from a different day.
“You’re a slut,” he stated.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I only asked for four. Why did you bring me five?” he asked.
Vicky had considered that this question might come up and she was ready with an answer that she believed would show her dedication.
“When I was raped… when one of them, rightfully, decided to push his cock in me, I was too horny to think about recording it. I only got a video of his cum leaking from my fuckhole. I wanted to be sure that you had real evidence that I’m a useful slut.”
“Good girl,” he said, and Vicky’s pussy flooded with warmth.
The old man took the phone back to his desk, plugged it in, and downloaded the videos. As he waited, he looked over the desk at Vicky. Vicky pulled up her skirt and her top to show him her tits and her cunt. The old man nodded his approval, again, and stared for long moment at her assets.
“What good are those ridiculous udders?” he asked suddenly, pointing at her tits.
Slutty Vicky thought quickly, coming up with the most demeaning reply she could think of.
“For slapping, fucking and… and milking.”
He nodded.
“You’re not an only child,” he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the desk, “I wasn’t lucky with sons, but I have fourteen daughters, including you.”
Slutty Vicky blinked in surprise.
“Every one of those useless twats, except one,” he continued, “has been through this office and they’ve been offered the same deal. To a girl, every one of them turned it down. They stuck by their silly beliefs, called me a bastard, a cunt, or a monster. Not you, though. Fourteen useless twats and you’re the least useless of any of them.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Vicky said.
He stood up, walked to one of the big windows, and looked out over the city, quiet. Finally, he spoke again.
“I’ve spent my whole life building this company. I’ve bought up other companies, put down the ones that didn’t deserve to live, stuck by my own beliefs,” he looked back over his shoulder, “One of those beliefs, slut, is the belief in blood. This place,” he waved his hand over the office, “DomCo, is a name that’s meant for blood. My blood. It’s a legacy.”
He walked back to the desk, leaned against it.
“Mankind lost something when we stopped believing in the power of blood. One day, we’ll find it again, but it won’t be without help. DomCo is going to be that help. You’re going to help.”
“Yes, Sir,” Slutty Vicky agreed.
“The day you came back, I knew that you had what it would take. When you came back again, and then again, I was sure of it. You might be a girl, but you’ve got my fucking balls and you didn’t give up. It takes a special person to betray their beliefs, but you did it. I gave you a little help, sure, when you were in that clinic. But in the end, it was your own conviction, your own realization of your place in nature that opened your eyes to the truth. What is the truth, Vicky?”
“I’m… I’m a slut,” she said, “Sir.”
“And the rest of the girls?”
“Sluts in denial,” Vicky said, “Sir.”
The old man smiled. It was one of the most frightening things Vicky had ever seen.
“You’re going to inherit my fortune, Vicky. I named you in an irrevocable trust the day you came in here with those obscene fucking udders. When I die, everything I have will be yours.”
Vicky felt lightheaded, trying to come out of her hiding place, to share in the joy at the realization of the dream. Slutty Vicky slapped her face and told her to stay. Vicky could still fuck this up. It wasn’t time.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said.
The old man stood up from the desk and walked around Vicky, his eyes roving over her. Vicky stayed still as he examined her. He bent her forward and Vicky placed her hands on the desk. A second later, the old man shoved his cock into her, and Vicky gasped. She’d allowed strange men to fuck her mouth, her tits, slap her and cum in her. She’d been raped in a parking lot and raped again in a toilet stall. Never, though, did she imagine that she’d have her own father’s cock shoved into her cunt.
“Blood,” the old man said, pumping his cock into her in a slow rhythm, “will carry this company and my name forward. I may not have sons yet, but I will.”
He pushed her down onto the desk and quickened his pace, his wrinkled flesh slapping Vicky’s ass as he fucked her and wrapped his hand in her hair.
“Those fertility drugs I had them pump into you in the clinic should already be doing the trick. You might be pregnant now, in fact. No matter,” he mused, thrusting his shaft into her as Vicky’s legs shook, on the verge of an orgasm, “You’re my blood and, if you are knocked up, at least it was by a real fucking man that knew how to take what he wanted. If not, well, we’ll make sure you are. You’ll work here, from now on, under me. Literally.”
He began to slam his cock into her, pulling her hair back painfully and making Vicky squeal as he used her, continuing his rant, “I’ll knock you up as many times as it takes, slut. You’re daddy’s little breeding cow, now. I’ll keep your cunt full, and your belly swollen, until I’ve got a brood that will put the Långaryd’s to shame.”
Vicky beat at the walls, inside her head, telling her to run, to give up. This couldn’t be! No fortune was worth that future. Vicky couldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t be a breeding cow for the old man, spending her days popping out her own twisted father’s children. But Slutty Vicky was in charge. Slutty Vicky imagined the pleasure of being pumped full of sticky cum, day after day, the old man holding her down and pushing his cock into her, slapping her, overpowering her.
Slutty Vicky could live a life of ease and pleasure, one in which she didn’t have to make decisions, one that didn’t have people depending on her or looking up to her. She could do the things she liked, the things that felt good and made her cum. Slutty Vicky didn’t have to be the costume. She could be the real Vicky. The real Vicky just had to go away. Slutty Vicky moaned, gave Vicky a mental bitch slap, and built a new wall, one made from pleasure at being objectified and the want of being taken care of.
Slutty Vicky plastered the stupid girl, the one that had dragged them into this, behind the new wall, where she couldn’t hear her screeching, grating voice. The screeching and arguing made it unpleasant. The whining and doubt made her worry, and Slutty Vicky didn’t want to worry. Slutty Vicky wanted her inheritance and a future that had meaning. That future was fucking his hot load of cum into her right now, pulling her hair in that way she loved. That future was DomCo.
“Yes, Daddy!” she said and orgasmed around the old man’s cock.
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