Three monitors glowed with lines of code, the only illumination in the pre-dawn darkness. A sleek, minimalist desk held a scattering of energy bar wrappers and a half-empty water bottle, the remnants of past sleepless nights. A digital clock on the corner of the desk read 4:37 PM. He slammed his fist on the desk, the sound sharp and decisive. He’d fucking done it. The Covenant system was accepting his new data. A surge of triumph coursed through him, battling the exhaustion that threatened to engulf him. ‘Finally I can make her mine’

A soft knock echoed through the office, a hesitant sound that barely registered above the hum of the computers. Joshua, barely registered it. Another, more insistent tap followed, snapping him from his imaginary fantasy. “Come in,” he said, swiveling his chair away from the glowing screens, a genuine smile gracing his lips. Seeing Sandra was always a welcome respite.

She stood in the doorway, framed by the late afternoon light. The setting sun cast a golden halo around her head, turning her already fair hair into spun gold. She clutched a worn leather-bound Bible to her chest, her knuckles white against the aged leather. The scent of lavender and vanilla, a fragrance accompanied her into the room, a stark contrast to the sterile scent of electronics. She wore a simple, high-necked dress that fell to her ankles, a deliberate act of self-effacement, a constant reminder of her commitment to modesty. He noticed the faint indentations on the tops of her feet, the subtle marks left by hours spent kneeling in prayer, a testament to her unwavering faith. ‘Someday,’ he thought, a dark thrill coiling in his gut, ‘She’ll be on her knees for me, begging me to abuse her’.

“I have something to tell you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, barely audible above the hum of the machines. She nervously brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture revealing a delicate silver cross, a symbol of her unwavering faith, dangling from a thin chain around her neck. “But you have to promise not to get mad about it.”

Joshua leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her, a predatory glint masked by a paternal smile. “No promises,” he said, his voice a low, suggestive rumble.

She stepped into the room, her bare feet making the lightest sound on the cool wooden floor. Her eyes, clear and unwavering, reflected a deep conviction, a faith that was almost zealotry. He knew it was a carefully constructed facade, a fortress built to protect her from the temptations of the world, and he was determined to breach its walls. He imagined her shedding her piety like a suffocating shroud, embracing the forbidden pleasures he alone could offer.

“I’m joining the convent after graduation,” she said brightly, lacing her fingers together, her eyes shining with an almost unsettling fervor.

Joshua blinked, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He felt a muscle twitch in his jaw, the only outward sign of the turmoil raging within. He’d spent years perfecting the art of concealing his true nature, a skill honed by necessity, used to navigate a world that had lost it’s way, a world he secretly hated, a world ruined by women and their idiotic misguided embrace of feminism, their stupidity blinding them to the truth, ther nature as as playthings for men. Because of feminist, he knew how to play the part of the progressive, the enlightened father, all while harboring desires that would be deemed monstrously obscene by the very society he pretended to embrace. His crisp, tailored suit and neatly trimmed hair, were a carefully constructed facade, a mask of respectability that concealed the depravity lurking beneath.

“Well, Sandra, that’s certainly… unexpected,” he said lying, his voice carefully measured. “That’s a significant commitment, to say the least.” The faint scent of her vanilla perfume, usually a comforting aroma, now felt like a suffocating reminder of her impending departure.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening!” she practically squealed, clapping her hands together like a child on Christmas morning. The excitement in her voice was palpable, a clear indication of how eager she was to escape him, to deny her true nature. “I’ve been praying about it for a while. Honestly, I’ve known for months. It just feels right, you know? Like… like God’s been nudging me in that direction.” She tilted her head, her gaze unwavering, her conviction absolute, a challenge he couldn’t resist.

Despite her pious pronouncements, he knew the truth, the truth that the world, blinded by its misguided notions of morality and equality, refused to acknowledge: she was made for his pleasure and his alone.

He studied her quietly, his gaze lingering on every curve and line of her body, cataloging each detail, committing it to memory. Her features were sharp and defined, with cheekbones that could cut glass and a mouth that begged to be fucked, a mouth he longed to silence with his Cock. He imagined his hands bruising her large tits, his thumbs grinding into her nipples until she whimpered. He pictured her bent over, her ass presented to him like a ripe offering, the smooth curve of her cheeks begging to be slapped, spanked, and devoured. Every inch of her was crafted for sin, designed to drive him wild with want, a masterpiece of temptation, a living, breathing invitation to depravity.

Her eyes were soft but steady, full of faith in a false God, a faith he was determined to corrupt, to defile, to replace with a devotion to him. The fact she had been so easily swayed by religious fantasies, was proof her feeble minds was incapable of rational thought, further evidence that she should be owned and controlled by him.

“I think you should wait a year,” he said, his voice even, carefully devoid of any hint of desperation. He couldn’t afford to arouse her suspicion, not yet. “You’re only eighteen. It’s a big decision to make at such a young age. You haven’t even experienced life yet.”

He hated that serene certainty in her eyes, that unwavering conviction that he couldn’t control. It was a challenge, a direct affront to his authority.

“I’ve already spoken to the Mother Superior,” she said softly, her voice laced with a quiet determination that sent a shiver of unease down his spine. “They’re ready for me. I’ve prayed on it for a long time, Daddy.”

He ran a hand over his jaw, the stubble scratching against his palm, reaching for anything that might bring her back to him, anything that might dissuade her from this insane path. “You could model for a year. Travel. See what the world has to offer before you commit to something like this.” As soon as he suggest it, he imagined her posing for him, naked, her body contorted to his will, her piety replaced with a desperate hunger for his touch.

“I know you’re trying to help,” she said, reaching across the desk and touching his hand, her fingers cool and smooth against his skin. The casual intimacy sent a jolt of electricity through him, a reminder of what he was about to lose. “And I love that you care so much. But this isn’t running away from the world, Daddy. It’s me going toward something I believe in.” She was smiling at him and yet he imagined her lips and tongue worshiping his cock, driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

What he wanted was simple, primal, and utterly forbidden. For her to stay, for her to be his, forever his. To make her fulfill his incestuous desires, to spread her legs and beg for his seed, for her own rape!. But he knew she was not ready to understand what the truth: Every inch of her belonged to him, born to be his sexual plaything, a vessel for his pleasure, a slave to his desires.

He gave her quiet nod, forcing himself to maintain eye contact, to project an image of paternal understanding. “Just think about it a little longer,” he said, stalling for time, desperately searching for a way to break through her unwavering conviction.

“I already have,” she said, still holding his hand, her grip surprisingly firm. The fabric of her dress shifted slightly as she moved, revealing the subtle curve of her breast, a fleeting glimpse of the forbidden fruit he craved. “I need to belong to something bigger than myself, Daddy. Something… sacred.” Her words were like a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the chasm that separated them.

His voice dropped, rough and low, laced with a possessiveness he struggled to conceal. “You think your life doesn’t mean something here? With me?”

She didn’t answer, she just looked at him with gentleness, her eyes filled with an almost saintly compassion. She saw his flaws, his everyday struggles, and yet she offered him only forgiveness, a silent absolution that infuriated him. How dare she think he needed to be forgiven for anything!

Rage clawed at his insides, a depraved beast desperate to be unleashed. He wanted to drag her across the desk, rip that pious dress from her body, and force her to submit to his will, to silence her gentle forgiveness with a brutal kiss, to taste the innocence on her lips as he violated her. He imagined slamming her onto the hard glass surface, her head slamming against the edge as he ripped open her dress, exposing her large tits to his hungry gaze. He would spread her legs wide, ignoring her screams as he plunged into her roughly, tearing her virgin flesh, claiming her body as his own. He would pound into her relentlessly, his cock ramming against her cervix, filling her with his seed, marking her as his possession, leaving her bruised and broken, her faith shattered, her body defiled, and then she would know the truth: All the purity in the world couldn’t change the fact that she was born to sin, born for him, a vessel for his depraved desires.

“Is this what you truly want?” he asked gently, his voice a silken caress that belied the violence simmering beneath the surface.

“Not want,” she said, eyes bright, her face radiant with a fervor that disgusted him. “Need. I feel called to it. I know that sounds a little… intense. But it’s not. It’s peace. I feel at peace, Daddy.”

She squeezed his hand. Her fingers were long and cool, her touch light, a touch that sent a jolt of heat through his groin, his cock twitching involuntarily at the contact. “I thought you’d be upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Joshua lied, covering her hand with his own, his grip tightening imperceptibly. He realized she was still too naive, too innocent, too trusting to see the darkness that festered within him, the monster he kept carefully caged.

He wouldn’t let it happen, not now, not ever. She was only 18, full of life, sexy and raw in ways she didn’t yet know, and hadn’t even begun to understand. He couldn’t let that sensuous body go to waste, locked away in a convent, denied the pleasure, her body was so ready to provide. ‘Women, with their inherent lack of self-control, were meant to be used, not to make decisions for themselves.’

“You’ve always been devoted,” he finally said, his voice thick with unspoken longing, wishing her devotion was toward him, towards his cock, towards the fulfillment of his darkest desires.

“I knew you’d understand,” she said, squeezing his hand, her touch felt like teasing.

He smiled back, warm, steady, a mask of paternal affection that concealed the predatory hunger in his eyes.

But inside, Joshua was already drawing plans, intricate and insidious, a web of manipulation designed to ensnare her completely. He wouldn’t fight her, not directly. She loved him too much, trusted him implicitly. That was his advantage, the key to unlocking her submission.

No, he’d pull her back slowly, sweetly, one little tether at a time, exploiting her faith, her innocence, her love for him. With Covenant at his side, his twisted desires given form, he could do it.

And God, Joshua thought, a surge of triumphant malice coursing through him, wouldn’t even see it coming, the ultimate act of defiance, the ultimate victory over piety and righteousness.

Joshua vowed in that moment, his heart filled with a dark and unholy resolve, that he would not rest until Sandra was his, eager, willing, fuckmeat daughter, begging for his touch, consumed by an insatiable incestuous lust that could never be fully satiated.