Chapter 6
CeeCee
I’m either having a stroke or I’m hallucinating.
Am I really this girl? I’m not even putting up a fight anymore.
I’ve wanted this for so long, and now Daddy’s making me do it, so I don’t really have any choice. It’s not wrong to want it. And I do owe him for everything he’s done for me.
I must have blacked out because I barely remember taking out his cock.
But, his pants are open, my hands are on my cheeks and he’s not wearing any underwear.
His hard length stares me down as Daddy pulls his shirt tails from his slacks, working the buttons on the starched white fabric.
God, I nearly lose consciousness. That chest, those abs… And that V cut of muscle that leads me right back to the center of him it’s almost too much to take in.
The swollen head of his cock is weeping as I sneak a glance upward at those frost-pale eyes that have been my comfort and safe place for so long. The pale skin is woven with thick veins and the sight of it shifts something inside me.
This is my first true sighting of male genitalia and I think because it’s Samuel, I feel literally altered by it. Down at a cellular level. A nagging pull starts behind my belly button and every nerve ending in my body feel like it needs something.
And that something is his cock.
He reaches down to grip my hair again, and something about that pull at my roots, knowing he’s taking away all my choices, clears my mind, and I don’t need to think anymore.
The same way the spanking felt.
He is a masculine masterpiece. I reach up and trace that indent from his hips downward with both of my index fingers.
He’s worked out ever since we met, and God, has it done his body good.
His fingers drag at my hair, pulling my nose right into the underside of his jutting cock.
That little zap of pain when he pulls reminds me, I’m his now. In a new way.
My heart isn’t thundering anymore as I think about that. It’s what this means. If I’m going to pay the price of being an adult, then I’ll be here on the island forever.
I won’t have to worry about the things other people have to deal with. Samuel will take care of me, the way he’s always done. I can do my knitting, and keep his house tidy, bake and pay for it all by doing… whatever he demands.
Samuel drops his pants, kicking off his shoes, and somehow leaning down to strip his socks off as I sit there, humbled and hypnotized by this protrusion of flesh I’m supposed to…suck.
“Kiss,” I whisper to myself before his impatient hands cover mine, placing them on the thick stem, one on top of the other, with a groan as I let the odd, silky texture and iron-rod hardness process.
“Yes, kiss.” He growls as he drops his hands from mine. “Just a sweet little kiss, like a good sister should. Show your respect for all I’ve done for you.”
I’m drooling, facing this specimen of manhood.
His hands find the sides of my head, fingertips digging into my scalp as he pushes his cock forward while pulling my mouth to the tip.
I snap back to reality as my lips connect with the spongy, slick slit, giving it a soft, puckered kiss as a long, low moan rattles out of my throat.
"Hold it tighter, CeeCee." He draws a long, ragged breath through clenched teeth, his entire body seeming to fill with air. “I need to know you won’t let go. This is your safe place now. At my feet, worshiping at the altar of Daddy’s cock. Learning all the things I’ve wanted to teach you.”
His voice drifts down from above, rough around the edges like sandpaper on coarse wood.
I'm on my knees on the bare hall floorboards, their surface polished so clean and shiny I can see a sort of blurry reflection in it.
“This is bad,” I whisper as a strand of the savory drip from the tiny slit stays connected to my lower lip after the kiss. I’m reeling, dizzy on my knees as he looks down, leaning slightly forward.
“Stick out your tongue and open wide,” he says, and I do it without question, shocked when he releases a thick gob of spit from his lips. “Don’t fucking move.”
It lands warm and unexpected on my tongue, that hint of the sweetness from the cookie he ate lingering.
I look up at the wall of muscle, thinking I could climb that, quaking inside as he spits again, and this time it lands on my nose, dripping onto my upper lip as I blink and suck in a breath, hollowing my belly at the unbelievable position I’m in.
"You're going to be sucking Daddy’s cock a lot from now on." The thickness grows as he speaks, my hands squeezing at the base as lust imbues itself into my very DNA. “Now, look closely, and you’ll understand just how serious I am.”
Two thick fingers race down the sinew of his core, into the black curls above the root of his cock, spreading the hair there as I focus and my jaw unhinges. There’s a tiny tattoo along the edge of the trimmed pubic hair, running up at an angle.
CeeCee’s Safe Place with an arrow pointing down.
“Daddy's hand closes over mine again, and this time he squeezes until my knuckles go white.
The skin of his shaft is fever-hot and the veins that rope along the underside press into my fingers like cables under silk.
"It's not going to break. It's not some fragile little thing you need to handle with care. "
"No, Daddy."
I try to sound confident. The words come out thin and reedy, like I've been running. My mouth is dry. Why is my mouth so dry all of a sudden?
"Look at it," he says, and his fingers thread into my hair at the crown of my skull. "Really look. You've been staring at diagrams of cell membranes and endoplasmic reticulum for four years, and you can't look at your Daddy’s cock for five seconds?"
Tentatively, I look.
Up close, it's nothing like the diagrams I’ve secretly studied in anatomy textbooks at 2 AM, curled under my comforter with the brightness turned all the way down. Those were cold. Schematic. Cross-sections of something theoretical.
This? This is the color of flushed skin, deep rose fading to something paler near the base, and the head is a swollen, glossy purple-brown that makes me think of juicy plums.
A clear bead of fluid pearls at the slit, catching the light from the inset bulbs overhead, and I watch it tremble there without falling, held by surface tension or physics or just sheer biological audacity.
"Taste it."
Two words. Simple and direct. The way he used to teach me multiplication tables at the kitchen counter, pencil tapping impatiently against my worksheet.
My tongue darts out before my brain gives it permission. The droplet is salty and faintly bitter, and it coats my tongue in a film that I can still feel after I swallow.
"Good girl," Daddy murmurs, and his thumb traces the shell of my ear, feather-light. "Now stop teasing and put it in your mouth."
I sigh in contemplation, but the sound dies in my throat when I open my jaw and lean forward and realize with panic that there is absolutely no way this is going to fit.
“That pretty mouth needs to understand things have changed. Soon, my cock will feel like home.”
My lips stretch around the crown, and the skin is velvet-soft over iron-hard heat, and I am immediately, catastrophically aware of every tooth in my head like a mouthful of little white knives.
I do my best to stretch and curl my lips over my teeth the way I read about once in one of Maria’s books. God, I want to do this right. I want to hear that praise that he doles out so sparingly.
Very good cookies, Ceecee.
You did well on your calc exam. I’m proud of you.
Good girl for cleaning and organizing your yarn shelves.
"Wider," he grunts, and his hips shift forward maybe half an inch, but that half-inch pushes another two inches of cock past my lips, and suddenly my jaw is screaming, and my eyes are watering, and I can't breathe through my nose because of the angle, and—
I gag.
Not a dainty little cough-gag either.
A full-body, throat-clenching, diaphragm-spasming, gacking, gurgling, vomiting sound that makes my shoulders hunch, and my fingers cinch tight around his shaft.
Spit floods my mouth, slicking everything, and when I try to pull back, his hand in my hair tightens.
"Stay right here. You’re just panicking.
Breathe through your nose, baby girl." That low tone that makes me want to try harder. He’s so calm, like he's coaching me through a swimming stroke and not eight inches deep down his sister’s throat.
"Your body knows what to do. Stop letting your brain get in the way. "
I force air through my nostrils in a sharp, snotty inhale. My throat flutters around the intrusion, trying to expel it, and the fluttering makes him groan.
That groan.
It's low, punched-out, and completely involuntary, and it travels from his chest through his cock into the soft tissues of my palate, vibrating against bone.
I feel it in my molars. In my eye sockets. The hand not gripping his thigh flies up to brace against his hip, feeling the muscle there jump and quiver under my palm.
It’s better than any praise he’s ever given me.
"That's it. Jesus. Yes." His voice has gone thick, the vowels stretching out. "That's my smart little sister. Learning so fast. It’s good knowing each other so well, isn’t it?"
His hands guide me, up and down, in and out, never giving enough for me to take a full breath, but I learn. I calculate the spot where air can pass through my nose and into my burning lungs, and I draw deeply each time it happens.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks now, cutting hot tracks through my concealer. My mascara is probably a lost cause. I look up at him through blurry lashes, and the expression on his face makes my pussy clench hard around nothing.
I writhe my hips as he bucks his own. “Suck that cock like it’s got everything you ever dreamed of inside.”
I dare glance up, and Samuel’s eyes are nearly black, his chest rising and falling, sweat beaded on his brow.
I’ve never seen him like this. Like he’s about to lose control. I love it, because what I’m doing to him is the reason.
I double down, hollow my cheeks, and pull back, dragging my lips along the shaft until just the head rests on my tongue.
The skin is slick with my spit, gleaming under the bright light, and when I flick my tongue into the slit to taste that salt-bitter fluid again, his roars, curse words, and triumph fill my chest as a warm gush of arousal drips out of me.
He pulls back for a moment, my lips stretched, my face a mess, but he’s looking down at me like I’m some priceless treasure.
"This is—" I run my hands up and down the slick rod, swallowing twice before my voice works properly. My throat is sore, scraped raw. "This is a lot. Daddy. You're—"
"I know." His thumb swipes through the wetness on my cheek, smearing tears and spit together. "You're taking it so well. Better than I ever dreamed."
The praise lands somewhere behind my sternum and blooms outward, warm and liquid.
I'm still crying. My jaw aches. A string of drool connects my bottom lip to the head of his cock, and when I smile, his eyes light up like the fireworks over the island at New Year’s.
“You’re going to suck it until you get the prize, CeeCee,” he tells me, and I nod. “It will take practice, but you’re so good already. I know this is all so new and scary, but you are enjoying it, aren’t you? Be honest, you like sucking your brother’s cock.”
I nod and pump my hands up and down. “Does this feel good, too?”
The question heats my cheeks, but somewhere in one of the books I read from Maria’s collection, there was a part where the woman was ‘jerking him off’ while ‘sucking him off,’ and the man liked it.
A. LOT.
“It feels amazing.” My brother smiles that half-smile that makes me feel warm down in my core. “But it’s like trying to tame a python, isn’t it?”
I giggle and pump faster, returning to suck the tip, popping the ridge in and out through my lips.
“Not like that, baby girl.” Samuel reaches down with his free hand and wraps it around mine, forcing my fingers tighter around his length. “Squeeze and rub right here, on this spot under the tip. Be firm with it. And suck the tip like a lollipop. Daddy’s flavor will be your favorite from now on.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I garble around the swollen crown.
“Good girl,” he says, and my heart swells. He pats and strokes the top of my head, and it all feels so good. So wrong, but so good, and I don’t ever want to stop.