Daddy's Office, Two O'Clock Sharp

The pool water had done nothing to cool the ache between my legs.

Chloe was sprawled on the next lounger, eyes closed, music blasting through her Air Pods, completely unaware that every few minutes her father was torturing me from afar.

Buzz.

A slow, cruel pulse deep inside.

Buzz-buzz.

Two sharp hits right against my clit.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, thighs clenched so tight the plastic straps of the lounger creaked. At 1:47 the egg went full throttle for ten merciless seconds. I came silently, hips jerking, sunglasses hiding the way my eyes rolled back, slick pouring out of me so fast it soaked the towel beneath my ass. Chloe never even opened her eyes.

I waited until 1:55 exactly, then slipped inside.

The house was quiet, cool, the marble floor cold against my bare feet. I ducked into the pool-house bathroom, peeled off my wet one-piece, and tied on the red bikini he'd left folded on the counter this morning. Two tiny triangles and strings. Already drenched before I finished the bows.

The hallway to his office felt a mile long. Every step shifted the egg inside me. My nipples were so hard they ached against the thin fabric. I could smell myself, sweet, desperate omega in heat, and I knew he'd smell it the second I crossed the threshold.

The door was cracked open.

He was behind the desk, tie loosened, sleeves rolled high, forearms corded and inked. The blinds were drawn. The room smelled like leather, cedar, and the dark promise of ruin.

He didn't speak. Just crooked one finger.

I dropped to my knees and crawled.

The Persian rug burned my skin, but I didn't care. I crawled until my cheek rested against his thigh, hands trembling in my lap. He looked down at me like a king surveying new territory.

"Good girl," he murmured, voice velvet and gravel. "Right on time."

His fingers untied the bikini top with agonizing slowness, letting it fall. Cool air hit my breasts; he hummed approval at every bruise blooming across my skin. He turned my head gently, tongue tracing the bite on the back of my neck like he was tasting his own signature.

Then he reached between my legs, hooked the string of the bikini bottoms aside, and drew the egg out inch by inch. I watched, hypnotized, as he brought the glistening toy to his mouth and licked it clean, eyes locked on mine.

"Who does this pussy belong to, Selena?"

I swallowed. "You."

His hand cracked across my clit, sharp, perfect pain. I cried out.

"Wrong answer, baby. Try again."

Tears welled instantly. My voice cracked on the word I'd never said out loud. "It belongs to... Daddy."

The smile that spread across his face was the most terrifying, beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

He lifted me like I weighed nothing, bent me over the desk, papers scattering. My cheek pressed to contracts worth millions while he tied my wrists behind my back with his silk tie.

"Ten minutes late over the last two years," he said conversationally. "Ten for every time you made Daddy wait."

The first spank stole my breath. By the fifth I was sobbing, by the tenth I was begging, voice raw.

"Thank you, Daddy," I gasped after each one, exactly like he ordered.

He dropped to his knees behind me and ate me like a starving man, tongue fucking deep, sucking my clit until I tried to crawl away from the intensity. Every time I moved an inch, his hands dragged me back, spread me wider, feasted harder. I came twice on his mouth, screaming into the desk blotter.

Then he stood.

The blunt head of his cock nudged my entrance. He fed himself in slow, letting me feel every thick inch, letting me feel how perfectly I stretched around him.

"Feel that, baby?" he growled. "That's Daddy's cock owning you."

He started slow, long, deep strokes that ended with his hips flush against my ass, forcing me to say it on every thrust.

"Say it."

"Daddy, please breed me..."

Again.

"Daddy, please..."

Again.

Until the words were the only thing left in my head.

He lost control.

The desk slammed forward with every thrust, wood groaning, my bound wrists jerking against the tie. His hand fisted my hair, arching my back until my breasts scraped the leather inlay.

His knot swelled fast, catching on my rim, stretching me impossibly wide.

I panicked, tried to pull away.

He snarled, arm banding around my throat, anchoring me exactly where he wanted me.

"Take it," he roared. "Take Daddy's knot like the good little girl you are."

He shoved deep and locked.

I screamed as the knot seated fully, as the first hot pulse of his cum flooded my womb. He kept coming and coming, teeth scraping the claiming spot on my neck but not breaking skin, not yet.

Each pulse dragged another orgasm out of me until I was limp, trembling, sobbing his name.

When it was over he untied my wrists, turned me gently, and sat back in his chair with me cradled in his lap, still impaled, still tied to him. He stroked my hair, kissed the tears from my cheeks, whispered filthy praise against my temple.

"You're perfect, baby. You're mine. You're never leaving this house."

I clung to him, wrecked and floating.

His phone buzzed on the desk. He reached for it with one hand, the other still cupping my ass possessively.

He read the screen and went very, very still.

I felt the shift in his body, the sudden tension.

"Damian?" I whispered.

He turned the phone so I could see.

A text from Chloe.

Hey Dad, change of plans. Coming home early, like right now.

Tell Selena I brought her favorite wine and we're doing a movie night in the home theater.

Be there in five. Love you!

Five minutes.

I was naked, dripping his cum down my thighs, his knot still buried deep inside me, the taste of my own slick on his lips.

And Chloe was pulling into the driveway.

His eyes met mine, storm-grey, feral, and utterly calm.

"Looks like Daddy's going to have to figure out how to keep his little girl quiet for the rest of the night," he murmured, thumb brushing my swollen bottom lip.

He smiled, slow and savage.

"Don't worry, baby. I've got exactly the thing to put in that pretty mouth when she walks in."

Five Minutes to Hide a Knot and a Screaming Omega

His knot was still thick and pulsing inside me when the text lit up the screen.

Chloe: pulling up now. wine + movie night. five mins. love u dad

Damian laughed, low, thrilled, the sound vibrating through his chest into my spine.

"Hold on to Daddy, baby. This is going to be fast and dirty."

He stood up from the chair without pulling out, my legs dangling, arms locked around his neck, and started walking. Every step bounced me on his knot, the swollen base dragging across my G-spot like a threat. I came instantly, teeth sinking into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He growled approval, pace never slowing.

"Good girl. Milk it. Make Daddy's knot go down faster."

Another orgasm ripped through me before we reached the en-suite bathroom. The knot finally deflated enough for him to yank free with a wet, obscene pop. A river of cum poured down my thighs.

He tossed me over his shoulder and sprinted. Cold shower spray hit us both. Thirty seconds. His fingers shoved inside me, scooping his seed out, rough and clinical, while I sobbed from overstimulation. He washed my hair, my tits, between my legs like I was a toy he was putting away for later.

Cabinet door slammed open. White sundress, no bra, no panties. He spun me, zipped me, twisted my wet hair into a knot. Cologne. Breath mint. Shirt tucked. He looked immaculate.

I looked like I'd been fucked by a hurricane.

Front door opened downstairs.

"Dad? Sel, you here?"

We stepped into the hallway at the exact second Chloe's footsteps hit the marble foyer. Damian shoved me into the shadowed corner of the landing, palm over my mouth, body pinning mine to the wall. Two thick fingers slid under the sundress and straight into my soaked pussy.

"Not one sound," he breathed against my ear.

Chloe's footsteps climbed the stairs.

He curled his fingers, stroked that spot that made my knees buckle, thumb circling my clit with surgical precision. I came silently, tears streaming, vision whiting out as Chloe reached the landing and called my name again.

He pulled his fingers free, licked them clean while staring into my eyes, then stepped out like nothing happened.

"There you are," he called down, voice warm. "Selena spilled wine all over herself by the pool. I was just helping her change."

Chloe bought it. She always did.

Movie night started twenty minutes later.

Lights off. Massive sectional. Chloe in the middle, me on the end, Damian on the other. Some rom-com neither of us watched. Ten minutes in, he stretched and dropped a cashmere blanket over all three of us.

His hand found my bare thigh under the fabric. Pushed the dress up. Two fingers sank home like they'd never left.

I spent the next two hours being edged to insanity while Chloe laughed at the screen and stole sips of wine. Every time I got close he stopped, squeezed my thigh hard enough to bruise, waited for me to calm, then started again.

Chloe finally passed out an hour and forty minutes in, head on my shoulder, soft little snores.

Damian didn't wait thirty seconds.

He dragged me onto his lap, dress rucked to my waist, cock already out and dripping. One slow thrust and he was buried to the hilt. I bit his forearm to stay quiet. He fucked me in tiny, silent rolls of his hips, hand clamped over my mouth, the other pinching my clit until tears ran down my cheeks.

I felt his knot swell again, catching, locking, the first hot pulse of cum flooding me.

Chloe stirred.

"Mmm... love you, Sel..." she mumbled, nuzzling closer. Her hand flopped onto my bare thigh, fingers brushing the exact spot where Damian's cock disappeared inside me.

Her eyes fluttered, almost opened.

He froze, knot halfway seated, cum still spilling.

Then the plot twist hit me like a freight train.

Chloe's lips curved into a sleepy, wicked little smile.

"I know exactly what you're doing, Daddy," she whispered, voice husky, eyes finally opening, bright and amused and not one bit surprised. "I've known since the first night. You two aren't quiet."

My entire world imploded.

Damian's arm tightened around my waist, possessive, unapologetic. Chloe's fingers traced up my thigh until they brushed the stretched rim of my pussy where her father was knotted deep.

"Shh," she crooned, leaning in to kiss my tear-stained cheek. "Don't cry, baby. I'm not mad."

Her tongue flicked my earlobe.

"I'm next."

She looked straight at her father over my shoulder, eyes gleaming.

"Right, Daddy? You promised when I brought you the perfect little omega, I could watch. Maybe even help."

Damian's knot throbbed harder inside me, another thick spurt of cum painting my insides.

He smiled, slow and feral.

"Welcome home, princess."

I can't breathe. I can't move. I'm impaled, overflowing, and my best friend just smiled and said she wants to watch her daddy breed me.

And from the way his cock just jerked again, he's going to let her.

I couldn't move.

Damian's knot was locked deep, pulsing another lazy spurt of cum into me every time my walls fluttered in panic. Chloe's hand was still on my bare thigh, her manicured nails tracing lazy circles an inch from where her father's cock stretched me open. The credits rolled on the screen, some cheesy pop song playing while my entire life cracked apart.

I waited for the screaming. For the tears. For Chloe to grab the wine bottle and smash it over her father's head.

Instead she smiled.

Not the bubbly, innocent smile I'd known since freshman year. This one was slow, dark, knowing. Like she'd been waiting years to take the mask off.

"Sel," she whispered, voice syrupy, "you're shaking. Breathe, baby."

I couldn't. My lungs wouldn't work. The only thing anchoring me to earth was Damian's arm banded across my chest and the thick knot keeping me impaled on his lap.

Chloe shifted closer, tucking her legs beneath her, head still resting on my shoulder like we were just two besties watching a movie. Except her fingers were sliding higher, brushing the slick dripping down my inner thigh, smearing it across my skin like she was painting me.

"I think it's time you knew the whole story," she said softly. "Daddy, untie her mouth. She's not going to scream. Are you, Sel?"

Damian's hand left my lips. I sucked in air like I'd been drowning.

"Chloe..." My voice cracked. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant..."

"Shh." She pressed one finger to my mouth. "None of that. I'm not mad. I'm proud."

Proud.

The word hit me like a slap.

She sat up straighter, eyes flicking between me and the man still buried inside me. The man whose cum was leaking out around his knot and coating Chloe's fingers now.

"Let me tell you how this really started," she said, voice low, almost dreamy. "You deserve the truth."

Damian's hand stroked my stomach under the blanket, soothing circles, like he was calming a spooked animal. His knot gave another throb, and I whimpered.

Chloe noticed. Of course she did.

"Remember freshman year?" she began. "When I begged you to come home with me for fall break because my mom had just died and I didn't want to be alone with Dad?"

I nodded, numb.

"That wasn't the whole truth."

She leaned in, lips brushing my ear.

"I lied. Mom didn't die in a car accident. She overdosed in a hotel room with her alpha lover three states away. Dad found out she'd been cheating for years. He lost it. Not loud-lost-it. Quiet-lost-it. The scary kind."

Damian's hand stilled on my stomach.

Chloe kept going.

"He locked himself in his office for a week. Didn't eat. Didn't sleep. Just drank and stared at pictures of her. I was terrified he was going to put a gun in his mouth. So I did the only thing I could think of."

She smiled again, sharper this time.

"I offered him a new toy."

My stomach dropped.

"Me?" I whispered.

Chloe laughed softly. "God, no. I was seventeen. Even Daddy has limits." She glanced back at him, affectionate, teasing. "Don't you, Daddy?"

He grunted, the sound almost amused.

"I started researching omegas," she continued. "The perfect kind. Young. Untouched. Sweet enough to calm him down, submissive enough to take whatever he needed to give. I made a list. And then I spent two years becoming best friends with number one."

I felt like I was going to be sick.

"You... groomed me?"

"Don't say it like that," she soothed, cupping my cheek. "I loved you the second I saw you in psych lecture. Those big eyes, that soft voice. I knew you'd be perfect for him. For us."

Us.

The word hung in the air like smoke.

"I watched you fight your heats with suppressants," she went on. "Watched you date those pathetic beta boys who couldn't even make you wet. Every time you cried on my shoulder about feeling empty, I wanted to tell you the truth: you were empty because you needed an alpha to ruin you. My alpha."

Damian's hand slid lower, cupping where we were joined, pressing on my lower belly so I felt his knot even deeper. I choked on a moan.

Chloe's eyes glittered.

"Last year, when you turned twenty-one, I told Daddy you were ready. He didn't believe me at first. Said you were too innocent. Too good. But I showed him your Instagram. The bikini pics.

The way you looked at him when you thought no one noticed. He started... planning."

Planning.

I remembered every interaction suddenly in horrifying clarity.

The way he'd linger in doorways. The way his eyes tracked me when I bent over to pick something up. The way Chloe always found excuses to leave us alone for five minutes, ten minutes, twenty.

"I stopped your suppressants," Chloe whispered. "Crushed them into your coffee every morning for the last month. That's why your heat hit so hard. That's why you couldn't fight him."

I stared at her, tears streaming down my face.

"Why?" I croaked.

She looked genuinely surprised.

"Because I love you," she said simply. "And I love him. And this family was broken, Sel. You fixed us. Look at him."

She reached back, cupped her father's jaw. He turned into her touch like a wolf nuzzling its pup.

"He hasn't had a drink in eight days," she said. "Hasn't disappeared into his office for hours. He smiles now. Because of you."

Damian's voice rumbled against my spine. "She's not wrong, baby."

Chloe leaned forward and kissed me.

Not a friendly peck. A real kiss. Tongue sliding against mine, tasting like wine and secrets and something darker. When she pulled back, her lips were swollen.

"I used to watch you sleep," she confessed. "In our dorm. I'd touch myself imagining this exact moment. You crying on Daddy's cock while I told you the truth."

Her hand slid under the blanket, fingers joining her father's where he pressed against my belly.

"I'm not going to lose you," she said fiercely. "And I'm not letting you feel guilty. This was always the plan. You were always meant to be ours."

Ours.

The word should have terrified me more than it did.

But my body, traitorous, ruined thing that it was, clenched around Damian's knot at the thought.

Chloe felt it. Smiled.

"Good girl," she praised, echoing her father. "Now here's the new rule: no more hiding. No more pretending. You sleep in the master bed from tonight on. Between us. Where you belong."

She stood, stretched, and padded toward the door.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announced. "You two finish up. Daddy, try not to knot her again until I get back. I want to watch the next one."

She paused in the doorway, looked back.

"Oh, and Sel?"

I couldn't speak.

"I wasn't lying about the wine. I really did bring your favorite. We're celebrating tonight."

She blew a kiss and disappeared.

The silence was deafening.

Damian's knot finally deflated enough for him to shift inside me. He didn't pull out. Just turned my head gently and kissed me, slow, filthy, claiming.

"You still with me, little girl?" he murmured against my lips.

I should have said no.

I should have fought.

Instead I whispered, "Yes, Daddy."

He smiled against my mouth.

"That's my good girl."

His phone buzzed on the couch beside us.

A new text.

From an unknown number.

One line.

Congratulations, Alpha Voss. The breeding program welcomes its newest donor pair.

Damian's entire body went rigid.

I stared at the screen, the words blurring through fresh tears.

Breeding program.

Donor pair.

He swore under his breath, vicious, panicked.

For the first time since I'd met him, Damian Voss looked afraid.

He looked down at me, eyes wild.

"Selena," he said, voice raw. "There's something I didn't tell you either."

The knot that had just started to soften swelled again, harder, faster, like his body was trying to keep me anchored while the world fell apart.

"Whatever Chloe thinks this is," he rasped, "it's worse. So much fucking worse."

He crushed me to his chest, knot locking us together as footsteps sounded upstairs, Chloe singing in the shower, oblivious.

And the text glowed between us like a death sentence.