Mercy sat gingerly on the edge of the wooden bench and attended her father’s words with bored disrespect. She still pretended total obedience becaus... his hand on her bottom was heavy and intrusive in a most-definitely non-fatherly manner. The last time she felt he was on the verge of some sort of incestuous tomfoolery with her bent over the bench and her pretty bum glowing red from his much deserved discipline. She had to admit the thought excited her down deep inside but she feared her. And she began to stroke it lightly, tantalizingly, increasing the rhythm of her strokes slowly, teasingly. Her breasts pressed hotly, softly against his arm now as she moved closer to him, unable to resist any longer; her lips found his jaw line and traced a pattern upward along his cheek, her tongue flicking out to sear a path of fire along the skin of his face as her hand continued to rub his already lust-swollen prick."You want me to fuck you, don't you?" he went on, droning the words in an. More

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