CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

[criticalkink]

The rules are under the cut for you to read if you haven't already checked out the profile!



Welcome to the kink meme for Critical Role!

This community is open to all fans of Critical Role no matter what your preference for pairing may be. You do not have to join the community: you can either watch it or just track the post. Anon commenting will always be on, and IP tracking will be off. So feel free to stay anon if it makes you more comfortable.

What is a Kink Meme?
It's pretty simple. You post a prompt and your fellow fans get inspired and write fic based on that prompt. As it is a "kink" meme, a great deal of fic will be of the smutty variety, so if you aren't into that or not of a porn-reading age, this place won't be for you. Not all fic has to be smutty, but it does have to be kinky.

Clarification: This is a kink meme, therefore prompts must be kink-based. It is not a general prompting/headcanons meme. There have been a couple of people confused by that, so we're just making it extra clear.

Please only post one prompt per comment so to avoid any confusion.

How do I prompt?
Post each prompt as a new comment to the main post. Include pairing (or threesome or more if that's your thing) and anything else you want to add. You should put, at the very least, the pairing in the subject line along with a specific kink if it applies. You can put the whole prompt in the subject if it will fit, but if it doesn't, use the comments. For example:

Subject line: Beauregard/Jester, friends to lovers

Body of comment: Jester's been letting Beau use her for sparring practice. That kind of proximity does things to a tiefling.

I see a prompt I want to write! What now?
Go for it! You don't have to claim it, and fills can be written by more than one person. Once you've finished you must post it as a response to the original comment. Responses should use a subject line that includes the pairing, rating & any necessary warnings (i.e. incest, non-con, etc.). If you have titled your fic you can also include that. Also, as LJ limits the size of comments, if your fic goes into multiple comments, please note that your comment is part 1/5, part 2/5 and so on. Using the prompt above, the subject line could read:

"Punches and Pastries, Jester/Beauregard, M, 1/3"

And now some rules...

• Since we're all supposed to be adults here, let's act like it. Be respectful to your fellow posters.
  
• Your kink is not someone else's and their kink may not be yours. If you don't like it, don't read it. It's really that simple.
  
• Please no bashing of other pairings. Just like with kinks, everyone has their own flavors, and this is neither the time nor place for ship wars. This meme is meant to include the entire fandom.
  
• Crossover prompts are allowed, but they must include a Critical Role character as a main part of the prompt.
  
• RPF is also allowed, but please prompt it over here!
  
• Het, slash, femmeslash? You're all welcome here. The more the merrier!
  
• It's not a requirement by any means, but writers love feedback, so if you read something you enjoy, take a second to tell the writer. Whether it's a one word response or something longer, it's always appreciated.
  
• Please follow basic kink meme etiquette by not linking the cast or crew to this meme.

While we want this to be a relaxed and cool place, we also don't want people to feel uncomfortable being here. If you have suggestions or comments on how this community can improve please address to them to criticalkink in a PM or drop a comment on this post.

The most important rule of all? HAVE FUN.


Now go forth and prompt!

Comments

Re: Thoreau/Beau

[(Anonymous)]

(Essentially all of these are non-con so be warned.) Some potential ideas, all optional of course:

++ The whole "spanking/beating-as-discipline, turns into groping and/or rape" is always a favorite
+ extremely rough blow jobs as a punishment for mouthiness
+ praise or verbal degradation or both, fuelling Beauregard's issues with desperately needing approval from her father
+ Can be set pre-canon (I just ask that Beau is at least 15 or 16 during any explicit-rated parts of the fic, please) or the night she was taken by the monks, or even post-episode 92 with Beau deciding to go back and confront her dad again alone and things going very wrong
+ Thoreau being very creepily protective/possessive of his daughter
+ [Especially if pre-canon] rape as punishment/"this is for your own good"
+ [Especially if post-E92] Beau being much physically stronger and more capable than Thoreau now but unable to overcome her body's trauma response and years of fear and conditioning
+ Beau being convinced that it was her fault
+ Someone finding out (bonus for Mighty Nein) and comforting Beau/helping her deal with it all/potentially going into a protective fury and making Thoreau pay
+ or, someone (pre-canon) finding out (Clara, the monks, etc) and doing more or less nothing about it.

(Fill doesn't have to be Explicit-rated if you don't want it to be, especially if it's more so focused on the aftermath etc. Alternatively, it doesn't have to be that deep and can just be pure porn too.)

Re: Thoreau/Beau, Beau/female tutor, Beau/girl; spanking, fingering, abuse, csa

[(Anonymous)]

“Sit still girl!” Eisleen, snaps. “You’re not too old for the switch!”
Beau squirms in her seat, wondering why her accounting tutor, an elven woman who looks 30 but feels 3000, continues to remind her of this fact, as though there isn’t a vase of brine in the corner with half a dozen of her favoured weapons soaking in it.
Her father had done everything possible to impress on her that there was no age that wasn’t too old to beat if she was under his roof, and she was obliged to stay there until he died and she could take over the business.
That was why she couldn’t sit still, after all.
“Beauregard, are you listening to me?” Eisleen’s sharp voice brings her back to her bedroom, but not nearly as fast as the sound of a switch being drawn from the vase.
She swishes it in front of Beau’s face, her face angry but her eyes gleeful.
Beau knows there isn’t a right answer to the question. Even if she had been paying attention, which she hadn’t, Eisleen would simply have pretended she’d said something different and beaten her anyway.
She doesn’t bother to respond, just stands and bends over her desk, tugging up the skirt she hadn’t wanted to wear anyway and waiting for the blows to come.
She isn’t wearing anything underneath it - that’s only allowed if she’s going out, in which case her father brings it to her room beforehand. Nothing besides a mess of welts from a beating he’d given her the night before anyway.
Beau wonders what Eisleen sees from her perspective. It really ought to raise questions, if her tutor weren’t such a sadistic bitch.
The switch cuts the air and slashes across her bare bottom, and Beau grips her desk hard, trying not to cry out. It’s a loosing battle.
She’d thought she was safe. She’d been successful at sneaking out eight nights in a row, and apparently she’d grown careless.
She’d been sharing a bottle of stolen wine with a girl who worked feeding the fire at the glassblower when her father got his bottles. Drunk and daring, they were kissing on the steps to the glassworks, when Thoreau passed by and spotted Beau. Grabbed her by the hair and shoved her to the ground, tugged up her skirt so that the girl could see she wore nothing underneath, and walloped her a dozen times with a cane he must have been carrying for the exact purpose.
Then he’d dragged her home for her real punishment.
In her room, he’d told her to remove his dress, because he owned every stitch on her back and the skin beneath, and told her to lie on her back on the bed. She’d begged, unwisely, and refused to do it. This was always a mistake, though she’d hoped the cane might have been enough to earn her a reprieve. It hadn’t been.
Her mother and a maid were called, and her wrists and ankles tied to the posts at the head of her bed, spreading her open and bent double at the waist.
When she was younger, she would have begged her mother to intercede, but it hade rarely worked to begin with and she’d grown too disgusted as she got older to beg for such things.
Her mother had left the room to retire to bed, saying that this was too much drama for her to keep putting up with, and her maid stayed behind, peeling and cutting a large piece of ginger to her father’s specifications.
He’d waited until she was done and left the room before taking the bowl of ginger and coming to sit on the bed behind Beau’s spread legs, leaning over her.
He had scowled deeply, and then sighed. “I hate to have to do this to you, Beauregard.”
“You already caned me,” she’d whispered.
Thoreau had smiled sadly at her, as though she was a small child asking after a recently dead relative. “That was for going out without my permission. This,” he poked a large dry finger between her parted labia, over her entrance and up to her clit, drawing it away slick with moisture. “Is for fraternising with that layabout slut.”
He punctuates his disappointment with a hard slap to her vulva, and Beau sobs, bile already in her throat.
“Do you know how disgusting it is?” He asked, taking a long, conical piece of ginger from the bowl, peeled except for the last inch, with a groove cut just above it. He spread her bruised ass cheeks with one hand and pressed the tip of the ginger to her asshole. It burned as he began to force it forward, and Beau had shrieked in pain. “For a father to have to see his daughter like this?”
“I’m sorry!” Beau had sobbed, twisting her bound wrists, thighs trembling uncontrollably against the burn as the ginger slid into her inch by agonising inch. “Aaaah!”
When it was in, Thoreau had sat back and poked his finger back at her vulva again, this time pressing all the way into her pussy. “I can only assume you enjoy this, Beau, or you wouldn’t keep setting yourself up for these punishments.”
Beau shook her head, gasping through tears to deny it. “I don’t, I’m sorry!”
Thoreau pulled his finger back out and slapped her there again. “Don’t lie to me, Beauregard! Subconsciously, you clearly want your bare bottom beaten, don’t you?! You little slut! You could try just asking me next time, instead of breaking out to whore yourself around the town!”
She shook her head again, earning another stinging slap that made her tense around the thick piece of ginger, increasing the burn to an unbearable level.
“Don’t you dare lie to me! Do you enjoy this?” He gripped her clitoris hard between his thumb and forefinger, pinching until she squealed in pain and it slipped out of his fingers from the pressure. “Tell me the truth!”
When she could finally gulp enough air to respond, she’d nodded. “I want it.”
“I knew it,” he had spat, and begun to remove his belt. “And that is what this punishment is for! You’ll get extra for the lie.”
And he had strapped her, blow after blow, against her ass and her thighs, and at least a dozen strokes that intentionally caught her vulva, leaving it bruised and swollen for Eisleen to see the following afternoon as she bent Beau over her desk and switched her.
Normally the position wouldn’t expose her labia to too much damage, but today she’s still swollen from the night before, and the blows catch her there too.
She doesn’t manage to hold back, and sobs and begs and writhes from the first blow to the last as Eisleen wears out first one switch and then another.
When she’s finished, Eisleen unties Beau’s skirt and tells her to step out of it. She does so, legs trembling, forcing herself not to reach back or down to clutch at the fresh welts on her backside and thighs and between her legs.
Then she’s forced to sit back down with nothing between her abused skin and the hard wood chair, for the remainder of her lesson, her raw skin sticking to the grain, welts rubbing at the edge of the seat.
Later that evening, she’s allowed to wear a thing night dress to dinner, and forced to sit in silence on her equally uncushioned chair in front of her empty plate while her parents eat a four coarse meal.
“Beauregard,” Thoreau coughs at the end of the meal. “Why don’t you have a piece of bread. I will see you in your room in half an hour, sit on your bed.”
She takes a piece of bread and pretends to eat it, pocketing it instead for later, when she stands a chance of keeping it down.
Then she waits for an agonising almost-hour, standing beside her bed so that she can sit down on it if she hears the door opening. She can see herself in the full length mirror in the far corner of the room. Her bottom and thighs are as bruised and welted as she’s ever seen them, and her vulva is bright red, one side more swollen than the other. She spends some of the time gathering the splintered remains of the switches from her floor and putting them into the trash.
She wonders if she really likes it. She’d never used to believe him, but this time she thinks of the girl watching the cane mark up her bare bottom the night before, gasping in horror but not tearing her eyes away, and finds herself slick again.
Before she can wipe it off somewhere not too incriminating, she hears footsteps in the hallway, and throws herself back down on her bed, her eyes watering with the pain of a woolen blanket against raw skin.
The door opens and Thoreau steps in, carrying a large, familiar, half empty jar.
He comes and sits beside her, not far from where he’d been the night before. “Now Beauregard. It’s time we made up, isn’t it?”
She nods and leans towards him, wanting nothing more than to crawl out of her own skin to avoid the hug he gives her before pulling her into his lap, the small of her back on his knees. He holds her legs up like they’d been tied the night before and opens the jar.
He takes a dollop of the cream and begins rubbing it into the back of her right thigh, working his way up to her ass and stopping to take more ointment. He rubs his fingers along her cleft, pressing ointment into her rim where she was stretched unlubricated around the ginger. He pushes one finger in as deep as he can go rubbing the greasy ointment into the asshole. When he pulls it out, he wipes it on her thigh before taking more, and working his way up the other leg. He continues massaging the ointment into her inner thighs, doing both sides before he begins with her vulva, taking far too much ointment and spreading it over her mound and then labia, before spreading them to do her clit and hole.
“You’re wet again, Beauregard,” he tells her. “What have you been doing?”
She sobs, almost reaching to cover her face before catching herself, and scrambles for an acceptable excuse. “I - I must want it,” she manages.
He inhales sharply and continues rubbing her, much more thoroughly than he did anywhere else, tweaking her bruised clit and rubbing the walls of her vagina over and over.
She doesn’t cum for him, and can’t tell if this annoys him or not. Surely that would be forbidden. Eventually, he takes his hand away and wipes it behind her knee, pushing her gently out of his lap. “Well. We’ll see what we can do about that tomorrow night, but today we’ll let your bottom heal up, hmm? I’ve heard that strong hot peppers can work wonders in curbing indecent appetites in young ladies, I’ll send the kitchen boy out to get some.”
She nods, like she’s agreeing with him. Mostly she want him gone so she can wipe off the massive excess of ointment and be sick in her chamber pot.

Re: Thoreau/Beau, Beau/female tutor, Beau/girl; spanking, fingering, abuse, csa

[(Anonymous)]

OP here:

Wow this sure fucked me up! I wasn't expecting any fills for this so thank you very much for making my day!!

Fill: Thoreau/Beau - Explicit, warning for non-con, incest, 1/2

[(Anonymous)]

Note: As this is a fill for the above prompt it comes with a strong content warning. This is a dark fic containing rape and other abuse.




Beau made another dig at her dad.

Beau's mother, Clara, flinched when her father slammed his palm on the table.

Beau didn’t. She just smirked. One smart-ass comment too many had finally gotten something resembling a human reaction from Thoreau Lionett.

She met her father’s eyes, still smirking and defiant. Maybe it had been turning sixteen, or maybe she’d just had enough of all his bullshit, but lately she had felt more emboldened to not let him intimidate her anymore.

He stared her down. There was a heavy silence.

He just kept staring.

A coil of dread formed in her stomach.

He’d never looked at her like this before. With rage and disgust. Like he had just realised what a stain she was on his life. This was quickly becoming one of the all time most awkward dinners ever in the Lionett household.

Her bravado faltered. Beau finally looked away and reached for her water.

Thoreau threw his glass across the table, it missed Beau’s head by about two inches before smashing on the wall behind her. Wine splashed onto the left side of Beau’s face and on her shoulder. Pieces of broken glass fell to the floor.

Beau’s shocked mom opened her mouth to say something but Thoreau silenced her by turning his glare on her. She recoiled in her seat.

“What the hell dad?!” Beau’s smirk fell and her defiance broke. Okay. She’d wanted a reaction, but this was too much. He’d almost hurt her. She wiped the wine off her face with her hand.

“Beauregard, I’ve had enough.” Thoreau said. He spoke calmly. Beau hated it. Why wasn’t he yelling? Why didn’t he just tell her what a disappointment she was and how she’d never live up to the great success she was destined for.

Okay. Fine. Whatever. She wasn’t going to let him get to her with this new bullshit way of treating her.

Beau started to rise from her chair. “I guess I’ll just...”

Her father slammed his hand on the table again. “Sit.”

Beau sat.

Clara looked down at her lap.

Thoreau just stared at Beau, like she was something foul and he was trying to think of the best way to dispose of her.

Beau couldn’t stand it. “So what now? Are you just going to look at me all night?”

“I’ve heard all about you and Anna..”

Ice cold blood shot through Beau’s veins. Oh fuck. Anna was the daughter of a wine merchant from Rexxentrum. Things had happened between them that had been something of an awakening for Beau.

Thoreau leaned forward, seeing he had struck a nerve. “You were seen kissing her Beauregard. There’s nothing you do that I don’t know about. What’s wrong with you?”

Beau sometimes thought about that. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just be who he wanted her to be? Why did she always fall short no matter what she did?

“Well, nothing to say for yourself?”

Beau held her tongue. If he thought all she and Anna had done was kiss then there was plenty he didn’t know about the things she had done.

Thoreau sighed. “I just wish I knew where I went wrong with you. Maybe I’ve been too soft on you.”

Beau snorted. She couldn’t help it.

His eyes narrowed and his lips curled up in a snarl. “Go to your room. Now.”

Beau quickly stood and hurried to her room. As she closed the door she was surprised and almost knocked back by him shoving the door open.

“Dad?!”

He pushed her back into the room and closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry. I know I should have done this long before now. It’s my own fault really.”

Beau was shaking. She took deep breaths to get it back under control. Shit was he going to hit her?

“On your knees.”

“What?” Beau didn’t understand. What was happening here?

“On. Your. Knees.” He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pushed her down. She didn’t put up much resistance, she was too bewildered trying to fathom what was going on.

It took her a moment to realise her father had undone his belt.

“What are you doing?” asked Beau.

Thoreau unbuttoned his pants. “You like running your mouth. I think it’s time you learn not to be such a mouthy brat.”

Beau had never seen a penis in the flesh before. “Dad, no this is...”

“You made me do this. This is what you need Beauregard,” Thoreau was semi-hard. He took hold of himself. “I’m sorry I neglected you so long.”

‘No. Don’t. Don’t so this.”

“Shh. Just one rule,” he said. Dead calm.

“No.”

“If you bite I will have to hurt you. Badly. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Please, I’m your daughter. You can’t. You can’t do this.”

He was hard now. Her father’s hard dick was right in front of her face.

“You pushed me to this. Open your mouth.”

She looked up at him. She was tearing up. “Please. Please don’t.”

Thoreau sighed. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He put his hand on her head.

“Dad,” she shook her head.

He took a handful of her hair in a tight grip. “Open your fucking mouth.”

Beau started to object further but he pushed his cock between her lips.

He pulled her hair sharply. “Open!”

Beau felt nauseous as her father forced his dick into her mouth. She had a strong urge to bite down against the invader. But honestly she had believed him when he told her he’d hurt her. There was hated and anger radiating from him.

After only a couple of inches he pulled back.

Yes, Beau thought, it’s over. It’s over and I’m okay

But before his tip left her lips he pressed forward again.

Beau looked up at him, searching for some sign he might relent. She saw resolve instead.

He eased back. “Wider. I know you can take more,” he said. He held her head firmly and reversed course just before reaching the back of her throat. She made an exaggerated gagging sound, signalling to him he had almost gone too far so he wouldn’t do it again.

Thoreau took no notice. On his next advance he went further. Beau made the gagging noise again and put her hand on his leg.

“Hands to yourself,” he said. He didn’t pull back this time. He kept going. Beau gagged harshly for real but he didn’t stop, he kept going until he was fully inside. She felt his balls on her chin, her nose and cheeks pressed against his coarse pubic hair. It was so disgusting she could barely process all the different ways it was gross.

It felt horrific. She couldn’t breathe. Her fucking father was violating her mouth with his penis. Beau couldn’t believe this was really happening.

After what seemed like an age he pulled back, his cock slipping out from her lips. She gasped for air, her eyes watering. “Please. Stop.”

“Sorry Beau,” he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson. Not by a long way.” He held her head with a strong hand. “Open up.”

Beau had barely parted her lips before he thrust his dick into her mouth, driving in all the way in one rough jab. He pulled back then thrust forward again. She choked and groaned.

Thoreau fucked his daughter’s face. He wasn’t shy about being rough. The girl needed him to punish her properly. The fact that it felt so good was a mere side benefit. Her disrespectful mouth was finally doing something that didn’t make him feel rage or disappointment.

He stopped himself before he finished in her mouth. He was more disciplined than that. He stepped back and gave Beauregard a moment to compose herself.

Beau’s cheeks were wet with tears and there was saliva on her chin. Still kneeling on the floor she wiped her face with her hands. She was breathing hard.

Best of all, as far as Thoreau was concerned, she didn’t make any of her usual aggravating comments. She had learned something it seemed. He tucked his erection back in his pants, tenting the fabric.

“Up,” he said.

When she didn’t do as she was told he pulled her up by her armpits. She hadn’t learned to do what she was told yet.

Beau felt unsteady on her feet. She was hurt and confused. Her father. Her dad. He had just...

“Bend over the bed.”

She looked at him, taking a moment to understand: This wasn’t over. He wasn’t done. “Dad?”

“Beau why do you have to even make your punishment hard work for me?”

“I thought you’d punished me already.”

“Oh Beau no. The punishment must fit the crime and you have pushed me far too far for that to be the end of it. Be a good girl for a change and bend over your bed.”

Beau dreaded to think what more he had in store for her. What more could he do to her? She knew that obeying would only lead to more horror. But she felt disobeying would be even worse. Was what she’d done really so bad it deserved this?

“Daughter. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Almost automatically Beau went to her bed. Bracing herself with both hands she bent over it. Her father came in close behind her. Uncomfortably close. She took in a sharp breath when he abruptly yanked down her pants and underwear, leaving them around her ankles.

“Legs apart,” he said.

Beau shimmied her feet.

“Further.”

She did as she was told.

“Good. See you can be a good girl for me. You just need to learn how to be a good girl more often. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Beau didn’t feel like a good girl. She felt repulsed and afraid. She felt exposed to his harsh glare. She gave the answer he wanted. “Yes.”

“Yes? Say it then.”

“Yes, I can be a good girl.”

“We’ll see.” Thoreau said. He steeled himself for what he knew he had to do.

Beau yelped when the first spank landed. “Daddy...” she pleaded.

He spanked her again, harder. Beau tried to squirm out of the way of the next one but he managed to hit her anyway.

After a few more ignored pleas Beau gave up on begging him to stop. Instead she tried to take her mind out of the moment. Maybe if she could focus on something else other than the pain it wouldn’t be so bad.

She thought about Anna, the merchant’s daughter from the capital. She was a year older than Beau. She had long fiery-red hair, green eyes and pale skin. She was beautiful and funny and her lips were sweet and soft. Kissing her had been like a divine revelation. The way she had touched her had been a holy awakening. The way she’d used her tongue to...

An especially vicious smack from her father shattered her concentration. She cried out in pain.

“Next time you think about saying something smart to me I want you to remember this,” Thoreau said

Smack!

“Remember what this felt like.”

Smack!

“Remember what happens when you’re a bad girl.”

Smack!

He pulled her hips sharply. “Keep your ass up.”

Smack!

Beau’s tears were flowing freely now. She was sniffling and breathing hard. She tried to avoid making noise if she could. A last thread of defiance. A last shred of control.

Thoreau paused. For a moment Beau thought he was done. But he was just switching hand.

He spanked her over and over and over. If it wasn’t for the horrific circumstances Beau would have been surprised and impressed at his stamina.

Her ass felt like it was on fire. It was a deep, burning pain that seeped through her skin, through her muscle, seeming to catch her very nerves alight. On top of that was the humiliation and degradation she felt.

When Thoreau finally stopped he moved back away from her. His hard cock was still a prominent bulge in his pants. Beau’s bottom was red-raw and bruised. His daughter was sobbing pathetically.

“I think, perhaps, you’ve almost learned your lesson. Do you think you can be a good girl now Beauregard?”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

Thoreau hesitated. She was thoroughly punished. His blood was up. And so was his dick. It was solid and hot. Beauregard was bent over and bare and ripe. Forbidden fruit was often the sweetest. He rubbed himself through his pants. He had to consider, what was the right thing?

Beau started to move.

“Stay,” her father commanded.

Thoreau continued to touch himself as he approached her. It would be good to, as a final act of discipline, make her a woman. She was sixteen. She was ready. Maybe claiming her womanhood would make her mature. Make her stop being such a bratty little bitch all the time. It worked on Clara.

Re: Fill: Thoreau/Beau - Explicit, warning for non-con, incest, 2/2

[(Anonymous)]

Beau made a pitiful sound when her father put his hands on her hips, fearing he was going to spank her more. It took her a few seconds to realise that he was rubbing against her. She could feel...oh shit no. She could feel his hardness through his pants on her sore bottom.

“What are you doing?” she was afraid of the answer to that question and her fear was clear in her voice.

“Shh.” He gently ran his fingers up and down her hips. “Relax.”

Beau couldn’t relax, not with his cruel hands on her body. Not with his penis against her. Not with her father grinding on her like that. She felt a rising nausea.

“I think you’re ready Beauregard. Ready to grow up.”

“No. Not that. You can do anything, just...not that.”

“Hush girl.” He took one hand of her hips.

“No no no, Mom! Help! Mom!” She yelled, her voice hoarse.

“Silly girl,” he grumbled. “Clara! In here!”

Beau looked back. She saw the leering look on her father’s face. Sickening. Evil. The door opened. Her mother stopped in the doorway and Beau felt an instant of hope. She saw shock on her mother’s face.

“What do you say to Beauregard?”

Clara cleared her throat. Her expression hardened and Beau’s hope was snuffed out. “Listen to your father. He knows what’s best for you. He knows best.” She looked to Thoreau for approval.

Thoreau nodded and smiled. “You can go.”

Clara meekly retreated without looking at Beau.

Beau looked forward again. At her bed and the blank wall beyond. “Please don’t. I’m begging you. Please."

With his free hand Thoreau took his cock back out.

Beau flinched as his cock touched the sensitive skin of her left buttock. It was warm and hard and it repulsed
her. Being forced to take it in her mouth was one thing, this felt like a much deeper, more horrifying abuse.

She wished and hoped and pleaded with the universe for this to be over. For him to change his mind and realise how terrible what he was doing to her was. He was about to cross a line he could never go back from.

“Please stop. Please don’t do this,” she knew that he wasn’t going to stop but she was helpless and alone and it was the only thing she could do.

He guided the tip of his cock between her buttocks. Slowly he directed it down. He paused right at her asshole. Beau’s blood ran cold. Surely he wasn’t going to...

Thoreau continued down. He stopped again at her cunt. He spat in his hand then rubbed the saliva over the head of his cock. He did it again, with more spit the second time.

Beau begged him every way she could think of. She made promises to be a perfect obedient daughter for the rest of her life. He took no notice. Same as before. He had a single-minded focus on his task.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Daddy’s good girl.”

Beau stiffened. Her mouth opened wide in a silent scream.

Thoreau stopped pushing forward when about half his dick was penetrating her. “By the Dawnfather that’s tight.”

“Please, stop, it hurts."

“Just relax, it won’t hurt for long.” He eased back then jerked his hips forward again. He ignored her exclamation of pain and repeated the action, jamming his cock further into her incredibly tight entrance.

“No more, no more.”

“You can take it. You’re a Lionett. You can do anything.” He forced himself deeper.

“I can’t. Please don’t make me.”

“You can,” he pulled back. “And you will Beuregard!” He thrust forward again, hard. He ploughed his cock into his daughter, finally fully inside her.

Shaking and weeping Beau felt like her most intimate parts were burning. She wanted the invading organ out of her.

“Good girl, good girl, I knew you could do it.” He sounded proud. For the first time in her life her father sounded proud of her. For this.

Slowly, almost tenderly, he eased back and thrust in deep again. Over and over.

The worst of the physical pain didn’t last long thankfully. The mental pain of being raped by her father though just got sharper and sharper. Beau went quiet. Defeated. Protest was pointless. Like the spanking this was something she had to just endure.

Thoreau worked himself up. Holding his daughter firmly by the hips he fucked her. Hard, deep, steady.

“I wish your mother still felt this good,” he said quietly, more to himself than Beau. But Beau heard him. He told her often how good she felt, what a good girl she was being. She tried to get her mind away again but she just couldn’t get her thoughts to escape from what was happening to her.

Beau suffered through every thrust, every spike of pain, every terrible thing her father said. She was desperate for it to end. She wished she would somehow lose consciousness. She wished she hadn’t displeased her dad so much that he had been pushed to this.

Beau’s tears stopped. She had nothing left to give. She had no fight left. She had no one that was going to help her There would be no escape until her father ended it.

Time lost all meaning to Beau. There was just her father assaulting her. The creak of the bed. The slap of flesh on flesh. His awful praise. The uncomfortable, alien, oppressive invasion of him inside her never got better. It never stopped being torture.

It came to an end abruptly.

Thoreau pulled his cock clear of his daughter’s sex and took hold of himself.

Thoreau made an animalistic grunting noise and Beau felt a spurt of wetness hit her lower back.

After a few seconds he let out a long contented sigh. He looked at the fluid he'd spilled on her. A trickle made it’s way down one of her battered buttocks.

“I do hope you don’t make me do this again.”

Beau heard him leave.

She vomited on her bed and slumped off it to the floor where she started crying again. Insidious thoughts kept going round and round in her thoughts. Was this her fault? Was this what she deserved? Was she such a failure of a daughter?

Beau was in a daze when her mother came in with a pail of water and a cloth.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Beau’s mother said quietly.

Beau let her mother clean her, like she had regressed to being a helpless babe.

She didn’t sleep for a long time that night, fearing her father might decide he wasn’t done with her after all. She hurt. Her bottom and between her legs particularly. It was a pain she’d never forget.

When she finally drifted off her sleep was restless, full of horror and fear and hate.

Thoreau slept peacefully all night.