Sandra stood in the doorway, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. The parody of a schoolgirl uniform clung to her body, the sheer fabric offering glimpses of her most intimate places even standing still. The pleated skirt rode up with each lustful step, teasing the edge of decency, while the cropped shirt barely contained her full abusable teenage tits, the navy blue bow at the collar a mockery of purity. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so true to her real self.
As she entered the living room, her eyes immediately fell on Joshua, her father, sitting on the couch. She knew what he wanted, what he deserved, and the knowledge both terrified and exhilarated her. This was the moment she had been both dreading and anticipating, whatever judgment he passed upon her body or her morals she would welcome it.
Sandra's mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts, each one a battle between her immoral flesh and her chaste soul. The Cognitive Corruptor whispered in her ear, telling her that this was natural, that her incestuous desires were inescapable, and right precisely because they were so sinful. Yet, another voice, the echo of her chastity and what was left of her faith, screamed that this was sin, that she was teetering on the edge of damnation. She remembered how she used to be, the piety and the faith that had lived in her heart, but they felt like a lie. In that moment, she was torn between the promise of pleasure and the threat of eternal punishment. But the sight of her beloved father gave her strength.
"Daddy," she whispered, wanting his attention, her voice sultry and needy. "I... I got the clothes you wanted."
Joshua pushed himself up from the sofa, the leather creaking beneath him, finally noticing her. His eyes, dark and assessing, roamed over her body with a predatory intensity, lingering on every immoral detail. The cropped top strained to contain her bra less tits, the swell of their under boob visible almost to her nipples. The pleated skirt was hiked high, barely concealing the dark shadow between her legs, her cunt almost fully exposed, a forbidden prize. Even as she stood motionless, a third of her perfect ass cheeks were exposed, a clear display of her tempting, incestuous flesh. In short, the entire outfit screamed of her need to be objectified and sexualized.
A slow, calculating smile stretched across his face. The air crackled with unspoken tension, the temptation radiating from her like a physical force, a silent plea for male attention, a call he was all too eager to answer.
"Good girl," her father said, his voice a low, husky murmur that sent shivers down her spine. It was the tone he used when he was pleased, a tone she had felt unworthy to hear, a tone that unlocked a dark pleasure within her.
His approval was a drug, a potent rush that flooded her senses. His intense gaze burned into her, stripping away her inhibitions, making her cunt ache with a desperate need for his touch. Her conscience, once a nagging voice of reason, was now silenced, drowned out by the intoxicating allure of her father's attention.
"Turn around," he commanded, his voice a low, guttural rasp that brooked no argument. "Let me savor the view."
Sandra obeyed, her movements graceful, fluid, eager to please. She turned slowly, reveling in the heat of his gaze, feeling it like a brand searing her skin, tracing the curves of her body with possessive hunger. As she completed the turn, she met her own reflection in the mirror across the room. She saw herself, finally, as a good daughter. Not in the naive, innocent way of the past, but in embracing the truth of her being: living pornography.
"Come closer," Joshua said, his voice thick with barely suppressed desire, patting the cushion beside him. "Let Daddy have a good look."
Sandra hesitated for a moment, her feet rooted to the spot, a battle raging within her. Then, with a deep breath, she forced herself forward, each movement deliberate, acutely conscious of the way the outfit shifted and revealed, offering glimpses of her fuckholes. As she reached the couch, she felt the almost unbearable urge to kneel and beg to be raped, the last vestiges of her former self screaming in protest, while the Cognitive Corruptor app pulsed with insidious encouragement, working to crush the final embers of resistance.
"Good girl," he repeated, "it's good to see you are no longer dressing like a prude ."
Sandra's cheeks flushed, a confusing mix of shame and a dark, undeniable heat. This was wrong, so very wrong, a transgression that threatened to shatter her soul, and yet, it resonated with a primal desire she no longer wanted to ignore.
"Daddy," she began, her voice trembling, barely a whisper. "I... I want to show you... to model for you... Please, let me show you what I see... what I truly am.”
Joshua's eyes narrowed, a glint of something dark and predatory flashing in their depths, quickly masked by a veneer of paternal concern. He relished the power he held over her, the way her body trembled with a clear mix of shame and lust. "And what do you see yourself as?"
Sandra took a deep breath, her resolve hardening against the insidious whispers of doubt. "I think... I fear... I am nothing but living pornography, that looking at me should arouse any man, even my father" 'Especially my father, ' she thought even if she did not dare yet, to voice aloud.
"If that is true then from now on," he said, his voice low, his tone commanding and certain, it brooked no argument, "dress like this. You will never hide the truth from me again. Understood?"
Sandra nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Daddy. I understand." she said relieved she no longer had to pretend around him.
"Show me your best side," Joshua's voice made her tremble like thunder.
It wasn't a request; it was an order, and a shiver of anticipation mixed with dread coursed through her. 'Best side?' The question ricocheted in her mind, a cruel taunt. 'What did she have to offer? What parts of her were worthy of his gaze? What did she want him to see?'
The CC app, a silent puppeteer, tugged at her thoughts, whispering insidious suggestions. 'Your body. You are a vessel for sin. That's all you are’. Shame washed over her, hot and suffocating, increasing her lust. She wanted to believe she was more than just flesh, more than just a vessel for sin, but the app's influence was relentless, eroding her self-worth, reinforcing the idea that her only value lay in her sexuality.
Another voice, a phantom echo within the app, slithered into her consciousness: 'Beg him. Beg your father for what you truly want, beg him to rape you'. The thought was a viper, striking with venomous force, yet she recoiled, the ingrained taboo, and the last of her purity, a wall against the insidious suggestion. ‘No! Stop!’ a desperate voice screamed in her head. 'I'm his daughter! This is wrong!'
Hesitation gnawed at her, but the need to obey, to please, to not disappoint him again, was a desperate hunger, a craving for a flicker of recognition in Joshua's cold eyes. Slowly, deliberately, she turned, each movement heavy with self-loathing, the cool tile burning against her bare feet. The command to show her best side... 'He wants to see what I'm worth. He wants to see what I have to offer.' Instinctual she knelt, the cold wooden floor seeping into her bones, a stark contrast to the heat building within her. 'My face? My tits? Are those my best side? No!' If I just showed him those, he might still see me as just his daughter'
‘You will be condemned to hell!’ her conscience shouted but whatever she thought or felt didn’t really matter, her father had given her an order and all she had to do to earn his favor was to obey, she swallowed down her sense of shame, her dignity, forcing herself to focus, even as her breath caught in her throat. 'I have to commit. I have to show him the truth'.
With a slow, deliberate movement, she arched her back, lifting her ass towards him, presenting it as an offering. The muscles in her thighs screamed in protest, her body trembling with the effort, but she held the position, her head bowed in shame, her eyes squeezed shut, her nipples hardening against the cool air. The curve of her spine accentuated the swell of her ass, a tempting invitation, a silent plea.
'My best side... it wouldn't just be one fuckhole, would it? It would be everything. It would be...' Her hands trembled as she reached back, her fingers brushing against the soft curve of ass cheeks , the skin slick with sweat and anticipation. She hesitated, her stomach churning with a mixture of shame and a perverse sense of excitement, a dark, forbidden pleasure that threatened to consume her. This was the moment of truth, the point of no return. This was the ultimate act of submission, the complete and utter surrender of her dignity. 'This is what I am. This is all I have to offer. This...'
With a deep, shuddering breath, she spread her cheeks, her nails digging into the flesh, pulling it apart to reveal the glistening, swollen lips of her cunt and the dark, inviting depths of her asshole. The delicate folds of her pussy, engorged and throbbing, were now fully exposed, a blatant display of her incestuous lust. A slick wetness coated her fingers, a testament to her growing desire, and the air filled with the sweet, tangy scent of juices, mingled with the metallic tang of fear, a primal invitation that both disgusted and thrilled her. The exposure was shocking, almost violent, and a gasp escaped her lips, a sound swallowed by the oppressive silence. For the first time, she felt truly naked, not just physically, but emotionally, her soul laid bare before his judging eyes. 'This is my best side. This is it. I am nothing more than this.'
Joshua's breath hitched, his gaze fixed on the display before him. He felt a surge of power, a primal satisfaction at seeing her so vulnerable, so exposed. He wanted to reach out, to touch, to possess, but he held back, savoring the moment, letting the anticipation build.
A silent scream built within her, a torrent of rage and despair. 'God, you cruel bastard!' she cursed inwardly. 'You make me a nun whore, then condemn me for the desires you planted within me! Incest is a mortal sin? Then why did you make him my father? Why did you make me crave his touch? His abuse?' The blasphemy was a release, a desperate act of defiance against the forces that had shaped her, twisted her, and brought her to this moment of utter degradation.
Sandra's body convulsed with sobs both from her mouth and from her cunt, each one a ragged, desperate plea for absolution and for abuse. "Daddy," she choked out, the word a broken whisper, "please... Please promise me." Her tears flowed freely, a torrent of shame and self-loathing washing over her. She felt utterly exposed, not just physically, but emotionally, her deepest insecurities laid bare before the man she both revered and feared.
‘No! Don't say that! Don’t admit such a dark truth’ the small voice of her conscience screamed, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming tide of her desire and her fear. "I can't bear it anymore," she said, starting her pathetic confession again, her voice trembling, a fragile thread about to snap, "if you don't see me... if you don't understand... that this is what I've always been, Daddy. This is the truth."
With trembling hands, slick with sweat and tears, her fingers digging more into the soft flesh of her buttocks, spreading her cheeks wider, a desperate, almost involuntary display. "Look," she choked out, the word laced with shame and a strange sense of relief. "Look at this... this... these fuckholes, Daddy. See them? See ONLY them. That's all I am. That's all I've ever been." she sobbed, "I'm so sorry for pretending to be anything else. For lying to you... to myself. This is me. Just these fuckholes... And my tits... that's all I have ever been."
The shame burned like acid, searing her from the inside out, a self-inflicted wound she couldn't resist reopening. She was trapped, not just by her own desires, but by the insidious whispers of the Cognitive Corruptor, which had convinced her that this degradation was her destiny, her only path to acceptance. It was a twisted form of self-harm, a desperate attempt to purge herself of some imagined sin, but she was too far gone to see the truth.
"Promise me, Daddy," she begged again, her voice barely audible above her sobs, each word a nail in the coffin of her former self. "Promise me that when you think of me, when you think of your little girl...you'll think of ONLY this. My sinful tits and these fuckholes holes, kneeling before you, just a cunt, ass and mouth Daddy... that's all I am. Promise me that's all you'll ever see me as... as pornography for your exclusive enjoyment.”
The Cognitive Corruptor thrummed with satisfaction, its influence tightening its grip on Sandra's mind. It amplified her insecurities, twisting them into a perverse desire for degradation and control. She wanted him to see her, truly see her, even if it meant embracing a distorted, misogynistic view of herself, even if it meant sacrificing her own sense of worth and dignity. This was her truth, she believed, and she needed him to acknowledge it, to validate her.
Her father's eyes, hot and intense, roamed over her body, and she could feel his approval like a physical touch, a branding that marked her as his. The shame of her exposure was overwhelming, a burning embarrassment that made her cheeks flush and her heart race, but it was tempered by the lust that pulsed through her veins, a primal need that demanded to be satisfied.
"I promise you, Sandra," he said, his voice soft, almost gentle, as if he were bestowing a great kindness upon her. "If that's truly how you see yourself, if this is what you truly want, then I promise you, that's all I'll ever see. I will only see you as three fuckholes and a pair of tits." He said almost choking on the words, fighting back a wave of laughter at the pathetic sight before him.
'Did she really think he ever saw her as anything more than that?' Internally, he was reveling in her degradation, in the complete and utter destruction of her spirit. 'Finally,' he thought, 'Finally she understands her place.' The CC app pulsed, its mission nearing completion. Sandra was his, body and soul, a plaything for his darkest desires, and he could finally indulge without guilt, without reservation.
As she knelt there, Sandra's body trembled with a mix of shame and lust, a cocktail of emotions that left her dizzy and aching with need. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she looked down at the floor, unable to meet her father's gaze.
A sob escaped her lips, and she managed to choke out, "Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for seeing me as I truly am.” The cool air of the room kissed her exposed flesh, sending shivers down her spine and making her nipples harden into tight, aching buds. She could feel the wetness between her thighs, a betrayal of her body that only served to deepen her humiliation. Her actions had been degrading, a complete surrender of her modesty and dignity, and yet, they filled her with a perverse sense of pride.
Amidst the shame and degradation, there was also a strange, twisted happiness. He had accepted her, truly accepted her, for what she was: the immoral piece of living pornography she knew herself to be. In his eyes, she was nothing more than three fuckholes and a pair of tits, and that, somehow, felt more true than any other truth she'd ever known. She had offered herself, completely and utterly, to him, with no possibility of turning back.
