When her first orgasm hit, it was violent. Her pussy clenched and gushed around him, squirting in hot, messy pulses that soaked the sheets. She wailed, back arching, eyes rolling back as the overwhelming pleasure made her shake.
But Daddy didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down.
You don’t even argue with it anymore. There was a time you would’ve closed this, felt uncomfortable, told yourself this isn’t you. Now you stay. You breathe through it. That’s corruption, not forced, just accepted. You’re letting it happen because you like what it turns you into.