Consequences

I'd like to thank everyone who has taken an interest in my first attempt at a story series. Once again, if you haven't read the first two chapters, I highly recommend doing so.

--thatoneguy88

Paul woke up feeling wet. The whole bed seemed to be wet, and he desperately needed to pee. His tied wrists were aching, and his little girl was sleeping peacefully on top of him. He was still inside her. Just when he thought he would have to wake her up, she woke up on her own.

Audrey woke up feeling full for the first time in her life. As the sunlit bedroom came into focus, she saw the laptop on the dresser. It was still silently recording video. Suddenly, everything that had happened the previous night came back to her. She sat up quickly and realized that she was still on top of her father. Then she understood that the hardness she felt was his cock. He had been inside her the entire night!

A wave of intense guilt washed over her in that instant, and she was more ashamed than she had ever been in her entire life. She began to sob uncontrollably when she saw her father's face. She was a rapist. She had literally raped her own father. What the fuck was wrong with her? She was dirty, disgusting, and absolutely appalled by herself.

Sure that she had ruined her relationship with her own dad, she quickly stood up and heard a kind of sloshing sound as large globs of cum leaked out of her. It was another reminder of what she had done. He had begged her relentlessly, pleaded with all his might, not to fuck him, but here they were. There was no going back.

"Oh my god!" she cried out as tears streamed down her face, "Oh my god, daddy! I'm so sorry! I. . .I don't know. . .I. . .There's something wrong with me, daddy! I. . .I don't know what to do!"

"Shh, baby," Paul said quietly, "Just untie me. I've gotta pee, then we'll talk."

"Yeah," the nearly hysterical girl said, "Yeah, daddy, okay."

Audrey climbed off the bed and grabbed the keys to the handcuffs that she had left on the floor, then scrambled back and released them as fast as she could, although her hands were shaking. When he was finally free, Paul got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom that connected directly with his bedroom. He stood there with the door open and began to pee.

It was so strange to Audrey, watching her dad stand there naked, pissing. She had never seen a man piss before. His nudity reminded her of her own, and she frantically reached for her clothes before she remembered how little her skirt would cover. Instead, she opened her dad's closet and found one of his big purple button-up shirts. She grabbed it and put it on. The sleeves were too long, so she had to roll them up, but it came down to her knees, proving that it was, indeed, more concealing than the outfit she had worn before. Next, she walked over to the laptop and stopped the recording just as her father came out of the bathroom.

Looking up at him with tears in her eyes, she tried to find the words, "I. . .I. . ."

"Let's make some coffee, and talk about. . .stuff, okay Audrey?" Paul said, still naked.

"Yeah, okay, daddy," she agreed, sniffling, "Do you. . .mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Sure honey, of course you can," he said softly.

While she used the bathroom, Paul put on some clothes and went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. What the hell was he going to say, exactly? How do you say to your daughter,

yeah, it was pretty fucked up how you forced me to have sex with you, but it was also the best sex of my life

? Paul had no idea what had possessed her to do it. As the fragrance of freshly-brewing coffee began to fill the air, he decided that he would have to be strong and make it clear that what they had done was wrong.

As he was deep in thought, Audrey walked into the kitchen. She was still wearing the big purple shirt, but she had washed the tear-streaked makeup off her face. A long silence passed while they poured their coffee and sat opposite of each other at the table. A cup of coffee always helped Paul focus, and he sipped the hot drink carefully while golden sunlight spilled through the open window blinds, spreading its warm tendrils across the table and casting Audrey's face in a cool shadow.

He could feel her sadness deep within his own heart, but he could not see her eyes. She looked away from him every time he looked at her. Each time, she would stare down into her coffee or nervously brush a hand through her hair as she looked away, pretending to be incredibly interested in anything but him. That was her way of letting him know that he was going to have to be the one to start the conversation they both feared.

"So, okay," he said with a pause, "what happened last night--"

There were the tears again, and Audrey cried, "--I'm so sorry, daddy! I know you didn't want to, and I didn't listen!"

"Well," Paul said sternly, "that's just something that happened, and we can't do it again."

"I know." Audrey agreed as tears spilled over her cheeks.

"Audrey, you're a beautiful girl, and any guy would be lucky to be with you," Paul said, then added, "and I know that even more after last night."

Audrey sniffed and looked him in the eyes, eyes just like her own, for the first time since the incident and asked, "What do you mean?"

When Paul was younger he had believed, as most young people do, in soul mates. In fact, he had been convinced that Audrey's mother was his. When she died in the accident he thought he would be alone forever. He had dated since then, sure, even slept around some, but he had never felt the spark like he did with Charlotte. Eventually, he became bitter in his loneliness, but he learned to accept it. With acceptance, however, his hopes of finding a soul mate had withered into oblivion.

Sleeping with Audrey had changed all of that, though, and everything he ever thought he knew about love and sex suddenly seemed like a whole lot of nothing. He had loved her since the day she was born, but now that love was different. When their eyes met on that awkward, terrible morning, he wondered, for the first time in decades, if his soul mate was right in front of him wearing his overly-large purple shirt.

"I mean," he said, feeling strangely tongue-tied in front of his own daughter, "sex isn't like that Audrey. It's not like it was with us last night, it's not like that with anybody."

Audrey looked down and sipped her coffee, then whispered, "Like everything just stops and it's only us? Like we're the same and it's perfect while the whole world disappears?"

Paul set his coffee mug down slowly, then said, "Yeah, Audrey, like that. That doesn't happen when people have sex. It happened with us, but you're my daughter, so--"

"So what?" she interrupted with a hint of anger as tears continued to streak down her face, "So we pretend it didn't happen, and we never feel that way again?"

"Sweetheart," Paul began as he found the resolve to do what was right, "in time you'll find someone else. Promise. But, for now, I think. . .I think maybe we should find you a counselor. You know, someone you can talk to about all of this."

Audrey nervously twirled her hair as her heart sank. This was the terrible consequence of what she had done. She had to admit that there was something wrong with her. She was sick, and she knew that her father was right. She let go of her coffee cup and covered her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. She wanted to take it all back, to erase what had happened. How could she ever look her father in the eye again, knowing what she had taken from him—from them?

"O-o-okay, daddy," she blubbered, "I-I just n-need to. . .I d-don't know. . ."

Paul reached out for her, trying to take his little girl's hand in his own, but Audrey stood up abruptly and ran out of the kitchen. Just like that she was gone, and in her place was only the blinding, indifferent sun shining through the window and down onto a man who had never been in such an empty room in his entire life. His heart was broken.

* * *

Audrey woke up the next day to the sound of her cell phone playing a generic calypso alarm. She opened her eyes to see the pitch-black surroundings of her new, windowless bedroom. She had thought that she cried all the tears of a lifetime the previous day, but she found that she had more to shed. Nevertheless, it was the first day of class, and she had to go to school.

Thankfully, Paul had already left the house for work, and Audrey spent much of the morning before her first day at Glen Oaks High School reflecting upon the recent, extreme changes in her life. A few weeks ago, she had been a virgin, too self-conscious to bring herself to have sex with anyone. Since she had moved into the new house, however, she had sexually assaulted both her brother and father. She had heard of nymphomania before, and as she drove her old clunker, Beastly, to school, she truly wondered if she had such an illness.

Eventually, Audrey arrived at the school, deep in her own disturbed thoughts. Her first few classes were uneventful, even though they helped take her mind off of her troubles. That all changed as she sat waiting for Math class to begin during fourth period. It was then that the raven-haired beauty, Ember, walked into the room, causing Audrey to suddenly get butterflies in the pit of her stomach. One more reminder of her recent mistakes smiled at her, then began walking toward her like the cat who just cornered the mouse.

"Hey neighbor!" Ember said cheerfully.

"H-hey," Audrey replied quietly.

Ember sat down in the seat opposite her and whispered, "I almost didn't recognize you since, ya know, you're wearing clothes this time. Audrey, right?"

"Yeah," Audrey answered, looking down as though she were very interested in her completely empty desktop.

"Looks like we were meant to be, blondie," Ember said, before adding, "We're gonna have a lot of fun."

Audrey wanted to scream at the girl, to tell her she could go fuck off, but she realized that she was really only angry at herself. Fortunately, there was a reason to end the conversation when the bell rang. Their teacher was an overweight, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair named Mr. Baker, and he wasted no time to start going over basic calculus concepts. Even though Audrey hated Math, she focused on the lecture like her life depended on it.

"Are you gonna eat me?" Ember asked as soon as class was over.

"Huh?" asked Audrey, somewhat distracted.

"Lunch!" exclaimed Ember, "Come eat with me at lunch!"

"Oh, yeah," Audrey answered slowly, "uh, sure."

As the girls walked toward the cafeteria, Audrey remembered what Ember and Cara had said about her new house. They had called it the slut house, and she wanted to know why. Finally, she got the nerve to say something about it.

"Ember?" Audrey asked,"Do you remember when we met? You called the house I live in slut house. Why?"

"Oh, shit!" Ember said, never seeming to run out of enthusiasm, "Well, about five years ago, Mark Jefferson moved in with his daughter, Tasha. I was just a kid back then, but I would always hear my mom talking with the neighbors about how she seemed to have a different guy come to visit every day. They all just thought that he let her run wild, sucked at being a dad, ya know?

But here's where it gets fucked up. One day, Tasha hung herself in a tree in the back yard after she posted a confession video on the internet. It turns out that he did suck at being a dad, but it was because he was fucking her! How fucked up is that?! She said she was sorry for everything she had done, and that she couldn't deal with it anymore. Later, the police found all kinds of videos they had recorded. It turned out that Mr. Jefferson was bat-shit crazy, and he ended up in a mental institution. Everybody in town talked about it."

"Oh. . .wow!" Audrey said, trying to match Ember's gossipy enthusiasm in the hopes that she could hide the fact that she was silently panicking.

"There's more, too!" said Ember, "A few months after that, the Thompsons moved in. They were a younger couple who mostly kept to themselves, but everybody in the neighborhood noticed that there were always different cars parked in the driveway. At first, people thought they were just hippies selling drugs because that's what they looked like. Then I overheard my mom saying that Mrs. Thompson was a stripper. Guess what happened next?"

"What?" asked Audrey more intensely than she meant to be.

Ember gave her trademark smile and continued, "A couple of years later she was busted for prostitution! I don't really know what happened to them after that, though, because they sold the house and nobody heard from them again.

After that, people started calling it 'slut house.' Now there's you, and, no offense, but you seem to be pretty slutty, Audrey. Some people even swear that the place is haunted! So, seen any ghosts so far?"

"Huh?" Audrey asked, almost too troubled by her own thoughts at that point to acknowledge the question.

"Earth to Audrey!" exclaimed Ember, "Ghosts. Seen any ghosts?"

"Uh, no," answered the blonde.

"Well, you've gotta let me know if you do!" Ember urged, then added, "Maybe we could get a Ouija board and have a sleepover sometime!"

Ember simply had no idea how much gravity her words held. Audrey had already been so confused and torn by her recent actions, actions that eerily mirrored the story of Tasha. There was so much guilt threatening to swallow her up recently that she, too, had been thinking about suicide lately. But Tasha had actually committed suicide. Audrey had never really believed in the supernatural, but something strange was going on in her life. Either she was mentally ill, or there was a ghost.

"Yeah," Audrey replied, deciding that there was no harm in trying, "Maybe you could spend the night this weekend?"

"Definitely," Ember answered, then slyly added, "and if all else fails, who knows? Netflix and chill?"

"I'll just have to make sure it's okay with my dad." Audrey added quietly.

The girls sat down to eat, and they were joined by some of Ember's other friends. The topics of conversation were typical of teenage girls; they gossiped about boys, relationships, and fashion. Audrey ignored them. Audrey was lost in her own head.

* * *

By the time Audrey pulled Beastly into the driveway, she had grown uncomfortable with how wet her panties had become. What would it be like to strip naked in front of strangers? She would be exposed and helpless, then they would bend her over and fuck her. There would be so much cum. Maybe they would tie her up and fuck her for days.

She snapped out of the fantasy as she remembered that she needed to shift the car into park. Maybe she really was a nymphomaniac, or maybe it was something else, but she had to get herself under control. So she tried to make herself think of things that would keep her mind off sex. In the end, she decided she should listen to music or play guitar, but first there was something she really needed to do: She immediately made her way to the laptop with the potentially incriminating video and deleted it.

When Paul got home Audrey was already in the basement playing guitar. Although she usually preferred the light tones of an acoustic, she had opted to break out her late mother's Les Paul electric for the first time since the move. Audrey then plugged it in to the 1960's Marshall tube amp, which also came from her mother who had always been a huge fan of Led Zeppelin. Finally, she began to play some high gain Lamb of God metal riffs. The amp was perfect for keeping the tone of the guitar's crunchy double humbuckers clean, and the riffs not only served as good finger practice, they were also difficult enough to keep her mind totally focused. It had worked until she felt a hand on her shoulder, which practically made her jump.

"Sorry," said her father, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's. . .okay, daddy," she said as she adjusted the guitar strap on her shoulder, accidentally causing feedback to scream through the basement for a few seconds.

After she positioned the pickups away from the amp and palm-muted the strings, Paul continued, "It's been a while since you broke out your mom's old stuff. Any. . .special reason?"

"Not really," she answered, even though they both knew that the truth was far more complex.

"Oh, okay." Paul said, then asked, "How was your first day at the new school?"

"It was okay, I guess." Audrey replied sullenly, then asked, "Am I. . .grounded?"

It was a valid question, but one that was difficult for Paul to answer. In those heated moments when he had been inside her, he had wanted her. He had silently delighted in the intoxicating scent of her sex, her beautiful figure, and the feeling of her hot sweat as it fell across his bare chest. How could he punish her without being a hypocrite? Truthfully, he blamed himself more than he blamed her. Had he failed at being the father Audrey deserved? Had he done something wrong, without the guiding hand of his late wife?

After a noticeable silence, Paul finally answered, "No, sweetheart. I, uh, I called and made an appointment with a guy. . .you, know, that you can talk to. If the internet can be believed, he's supposed to be really great with. . .helping people like you. . .and me."

If her back had not been facing him, Paul would have seen her tears before he heard them in her voice. Not that it mattered, though, because he sensed her sadness just the same.

"Yeah," she said as tears streaked down her face yet again, "Um. . .When?"

"Next Tuesday, after school. His name is Dr. Gregory." Paul said, feeling tears threaten to escape his own eyes.

I. . .I made a new friend," Audrey said, changing the subject as she choked back sobs, "and. . .she wants to come stay the night this weekend. Can she come over on Saturday?"

"Yeah," her father said softly, then added, "This house is a lot bigger than our old one, and I could sleep through anything as long as you girls stay in this sound-proof basement."

"Thanks." said Audrey, "Thanks for. . ."

A single tear fell down Paul's cheek. It was a tear that expressed how he felt more than any words he could ever say, but it was only for him to see. It was a thousand beautiful words, and it fell too fast for speech, lost forever on the undeserving carpet by his feet.

Paul looked down at it and said the words that could do it no justice. He said, "I love you, Audrey Christine Vandermeir. I always will, no matter what."

Audrey remained sitting with her back turned toward her father. She wished she could face the amazing man behind her. She wished that she could believe in his words, but she had never even believed in herself. If she turned around, would he wrap his arms around her? Would it be the same as it had been before? As much as she wanted to know, she was too afraid to find out. So instead of answering him, the teen took her palm off the guitar and drowned the room in crunchy power chords.

* * *

Over the next few days, Audrey was an emotional mess. She had no idea how she could be so depressed and so horny at the same time. She avoided being at home when it was possible. She spent long hours at the local beach watching the waves roll in while playing sad songs on her acoustic guitar. When people stopped to talk to her, she felt completely disconnected in the conversation. When they were men, she would force herself to look at her fingers instead of their crotches, her fingers that could slide along the strings with the grace of an expert.

But the sex dreams had come back with a vengeance. Every night, she dreamed of stripping in front of strangers. Then they would fuck her. They always came inside of her, and she would wake up feeling hot and sweaty. She would kick off the sheets that covered her, and her clothes would always follow. It was simply too hot.