Edie: Innocence Lost

Rob catches his teenage daughter masturbating and does a very bad thing...

Edie’s world had changed forever a few months ago when she’d stumbled upon her mother’s forgotten massage gun. What started as idle curiosity—pressing the humming device against her calf, her thigh—quickly spiraled into something electric the first time she let it stray higher. The moment the vibrations brushed against her cotton panties, her breath hitched. And then—oh.

First tingly, then wet, then… *oh*. That was the only word her young mind could grasp, short-circuiting as her hips jerked without permission. She didn’t know what to call it, was that an *orgasm*? The only thing she knew was that she needed it again. And again. And again. Soon, she was stealing the massage gun whenever the house was empty, locking herself in the bathroom with it pressed between her legs until her knees trembled and her breath came in tiny, hiccuping gasps.

She'd even sneak it out of the house—into the back fields where the wheat grew high enough to hide her. That’s where she was now, sprawled in the golden stalks, the afternoon sun warm on her bare thighs, naked below the waist, her shorts and knickers crumpled beside her. The gun’s dull whir filled her ears, and Edie bit her lip, pressing the rounded head just *there*, where everything felt amazing. Her hips jerked up off the ground, chasing the sensation like a dog chasing its tail—desperate, clumsy, greedy. The fingers of her other hand slipped down, tracing her folds, still smooth, still hairless below the little blonde tuft on her mons, but wetter than she’d ever been.

Something new occurred to her—what if she…? Hesitant at first, she slid a fingertip inside herself. The gasp that escaped her was louder than she meant it to be, and she glanced around, heart pounding. But no one was coming. Just the wind in the wheat, the distant hum of a tractor, her own ragged breathing. She did it again, deeper this time, and her whole body arched. It felt *different*— better, she curled her finger experimentally, and stars burst behind her eyelids.

Over the next few weeks she became bolder—experimenting with objects from around the house. The handle of her hairbrush, smooth and cool, made her gasp when she pressed it inside. The showerhead on the highest setting had her biting her wrist to keep from crying out. All she could think about was that aching, wonderful feeling—how it built and built until her whole body seized, legs kicking, toes curling.

Every night after school she'd steal out into the fields, pocket stuffed with one of her mum's home made candles - her favorite toy- and the massager, her heart racing with anticipation. One evening, as she lay sprawled in the golden wheat, slowly pushing the candle inside herself, the massage gun pressed hard against her clit, she didn't hear footsteps until they were right beside her.

Rob had noticed Edie slipping away—always with that furtive glance over her shoulder, always returning flushed and breathless. At first, he’d dismissed it, but then he got curious. So he followed her today, keeping his distance until the wheat swallowed her whole.

Now, crouched low in the stalks, his pulse hammered in his throat. His daughter—his only just turned fourteen-year-old daughter—lay sprawled in the dirt, naked from the waist down, legs splayed shamelessly open. The sight punched the air from his lungs. The candle—one of Amy’s fucking beeswax candle, Christ—was buried halfway inside her, glistening with her slick as she worked it in and out with clumsy, eager strokes. The massage gun buzzed against her clit, and her hips jerked in tiny, frantic circles, her breath coming in shallow little gasps.

Rob didn’t move. Couldn’t. His jeans were suddenly too tight, his mouth dry. He’d thought—fuck, he didn’t know what he’d thought. That she was climbing trees out here. Playing pretend. Not *this*. Not her pink, almost hairless cunt stretched around that candle, her other hand pressing the massager to her clit. Her face was screwed up in concentration, her lips parted around silent little moans. Then—suddenly—she pressed the buzzing head of the gun harder against herself, her back arching off the ground. A high, keening noise escaped her throat, and Rob’s stomach lurched as her thighs trembled, her toes curling in the dirt.

She slowed, panting, the candle still buried inside herself. Then—her eyes still closed—she pressed the massage gun against the base of the candle protruding from her slit. The vibrations traveled up the wax, making it hum inside her, and Edie gasped, her thighs trembling. It felt *different*—like the pulse was coming from deep inside her, rattling her bones.

She arched suddenly, turning onto all fours, her face pressed into the earth. The candle slipped deeper with the shift, and she whimpered, her forehead grinding against the soil as she rocked back onto it. The vibrations were too much—too good—and she couldn’t stop her hips from jerking forward, then back, fucking herself on the candle.

Rob’s breath hitched. He should leave. He *should*. But his feet stayed rooted, his pulse hammering in his throat as he watched Edie’s small body writhe—her hips bucking with a hunger he’d never imagined in someone so young. The candle slid obscenely in and out, slick with her wetness, her fingers frantic between her legs.

She’d already cum once, but she wanted more—needed more— as she fucked herself on the candle. The vibrations traveled up through the wax, buzzing deep inside her in a way that made her whimper. Then—suddenly—she gasped, her entire body locking tight. A second wave hit her, harder than the first, and her thighs shook violently as she came with a choked cry, collapsing forward onto her elbows.

Rob’s cock was in his hand before he’d even registered moving—before he could stop himself. The thick heat of it pulsed against his palm, achingly hard, his fingers tightening around the shaft. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be watching. Shouldn’t be *jerking off* to the sight of his daughter’s tiny body convulsing with pleasure. But the way she’d arched—the way her cunt had clenched around that candle—Christ.

His thumb swiped over the leaking head of his cock, smearing precum down the length. He bit back a groan, his hips jerking forward into his fist. Edie was still sprawled in the dirt, her breath ragged, her thighs slick with her own wetness. She shifted, rolling onto her side, the candle slipping free with a wet *pop* that made Rob’s stomach clench. She blinked at it, dazed, her fingers tracing the glistening wax before bringing it to her mouth—*licking* it, tentatively at first, then sucking the length clean with a slow, curious drag of her tongue.

Rob’s vision blurred at the edges. He couldn’t—*wouldn’t*—walk away now. Not when she looked like that. Not when she *tasted* herself like that. His feet carried him forward before his conscience could catch up, the wheat parting around him. Edie’s head snapped up at the rustling, her eyes widening— with fear. Her cheeks flushed darker, but she didn’t scramble to cover herself. Instead, she just… stared at him frozen. At the thick, angry length of him in his hand.

“Daddy?” Her voice was small, breathless, terrified.

Rob didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The wheat stalks whispered around him as he stepped closer, his cock still gripped tight in his fist, glistening at the tip. Edie scrambled backward, her bare thighs scraping against the dirt, but he was faster—his free hand snatching her ankle, yanking her toward him with a force that made her gasp. The candle rolled away, forgotten.

Her pulse hammered in her throat as she stared up at him—her father, his face twisted with something she didn’t recognize. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her calf, his grip hot and unyielding. She should scream. Should kick. Should *run*. But the way he looked at her—like she was something to devour.

He flipped her onto her stomach, her pert little bottom was streaked with dirt and sweat, the childish musk thick in the air. Rob's palm cracked down against her bare flesh—once, twice—leaving blooming pink handprints that made her squeal in pain.

"Please—Daddy—" Edie gasped, writhing under him, her legs kicking uselessly in the wheat stalks. His fingers dug into the soft swell of her hip, holding her still as his other hand slid between her trembling thighs.

Rob wasn’t gentle. He didn’t ask. His thick fingers found her slick cunt, still throbbing from the orgasm she’d just wrung out of herself, and he groaned at the heat of her. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice ragged. "You’re *soaked*."

Edie whimpered, her face pressed into the dirt, her body frozen between fear and something else—something hotter, sharper. His fingers were rougher than hers had ever been, calloused from work, and they *stretched* her in a way the candle never could. She gasped as one slid inside, her thighs instinctively clamping around his wrist. Her prized them open easily, his grip bruising.

"Christ," Rob muttered, his breath ragged against the back of her neck. His fingers curled inside her, pressing up—and Edie *shrieked*, her back arching violently. It was too much—the drag of his knuckles against her tender walls, the way his thumb ground against her clit with none of her own hesitation. Her hips jerked forward, then back trying to escape, but just fucking herself on his hand instead. "Fucking—*look* at you," he growled, wrenching her head back by her ponytail. "You *like* this, don't you? My little girl's a little slut."

Edie sobbed—half in protest, half in something else—as his fingers pistoned ruthlessly inside her, her tiny body rocking with each thrust. She *was* tight—so tight his fingers strained against her walls—but she was *wet*, dripping down his wrist, her thighs trembling. Rob spit against her entrance, the glob of saliva mixing with her slick as he worked a second finger in beside the first. Edie *howled*, her toes digging into the dirt, her hips bucking wildly.

Then—suddenly—his fingers were gone, leaving her clenching around nothing. Before she could gasp, Her dad's cock was there instead, the fat, blunt head pressing insistently against her entrance. "Daddy—*no*—" she whimpered, but her voice broke when he shoved forward, the stretch *burning*. She screamed—a ragged, broken sound—as he pushed inside her with a brutal thrust.

She screamed. Her fingers clawed at the dirt, her spine arching violently, her breath coming in ragged, hiccuping gasps. He was *inside* her. The stretch was unbearable, her cunt burning as his cock forced its way deeper—too deep—until the thick head of him bumped against something tight and unyielding. Her cervix. Rob groaned, his hips jerking forward instinctively, and Edie *screeched*, her vision whiting out at the sharp, stabbing pain.

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Her tiny body trembled beneath him, her cunt clenching around him like a vice, hot and slick and *perfect*. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more—wanted to be fully inside her—and he slammed into her again, his hips pistoning, his cock dragging against her tender walls. Her sobs were muffled against the dirt, her thighs slick with her own wetness and his spit, her fingers scrabbling for purchase in the wheat stalks.

Rob reached for the massage gun where it lay discarded beside them, his fingers curling around the smooth plastic. The vibration kicked on instantly, a dull buzz against his palm. Edie whimpered when he lifted her hips higher, forcing her onto her knees—her small back arched, her bare bottom exposed and streaked with dirt from where she’d been grinding against the ground moments before. With half of his cock still wedged inside her, barely past the tight ring of her entrance, throbbing with the effort of holding back.

He didn’t ease the massager against her clit—he *slammed* it there, pressing the buzzing head hard against her swollen little nub. Edie *screamed*, her entire body jerking forward, but Rob’s grip on her hip kept her impaled on him, her cunt spasming wildly around his cock. The vibrations rattled through her, sharp and electric, and her thighs trembled violently, her toes curling in the dirt. Rob groaned at the sensation—her tiny body convulsing around him the vibration of the massager, her wet heat gripping him tighter than anything he’d ever felt.

The pain was unbearable—like her insides were being torn apart—but the vibration of the massager against her clit sent jolts of white-hot sensation ricocheting through her small body. Edie couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, caught between the brutal stretch of her father’s cock splitting her open and the relentless buzz against her sensitive little bud. Every thrust forced a ragged sob from her throat, her thighs slick with sweat and spit, her fingers clawing uselessly at the dirt. She was being *ruined*, her tiny cunt stretched impossibly wide around him, yet the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside her, a knot she couldn’t escape. She could feel another orgasm building—cruel and inevitable—even as tears streaked down her flushed cheeks.

Rob felt her cum, felt her tiny body convulse—felt the way her cunt clenched around him in waves—and he growled, his hips snapping forward, burying himself as deep as he could. The vibration of the massager against her clit never stopped, never eased, and Edie’s cries dissolved into broken, hiccuping moans as she came again, her thighs trembling violently, her fists clenched in the dirt.

His grip on her hip tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled out—almost entirely—only to slam back in with an obscene wet sound. Edie whimpered, her forehead pressed into the earth, her breath coming in ragged little gasps. Rob’s gaze followed the trembling curve of her spine, past the sweat-slicked dip of her lower back—to the pert, round swell of her bare bottom. Streaked with dirt, smeared with her own slick, her cheeks flushed pink from the spanking he’d given her earlier. Her little pink pucker winked at him, clenching nervously, as if it *knew* where his attention had landed.

He dropped the massage gun—its dull buzz lost in the wheat—and spat thickly onto her clenched little rosebud. The glob of saliva landed with a wet *plop*, dripping down the delicate furl of her anus. Edie tensed, a startled whimper escaping her throat, but Rob was already dragging his finger through the mess, smearing it over her tight entrance. Her whole body jerked when the pad of his finger pressed against it—*testing*, circling—her tiny hole twitching under the intrusion.

"No—*Daddy*—!" Her voice cracked, her fingers scrambling for purchase in the dirt, but Rob ignored her, his cock still buried halfway inside her tight teenage cunt. His finger pressed harder, sinking into the tight ring of muscle with a slow, relentless pressure. Edie *howled*, her back arching violently, her thighs trembling as her body fought the invasion. It *burned*—a sharp, searing stretch—her rim fluttering wildly around the thick intrusion. Without the massage gun's buzzing distraction, every sensation was raw, unfiltered *agony*. Tears streaked down her flushed cheeks, her breath coming in ragged, hiccuping gasps as her father's finger worked deeper, twisting cruelly inside her.

Rob groaned, his hips jerking forward instinctively, his cock sliding another inch into her tight little adolescent cunt. The dual stretch—his finger in her bumhole, his cock splitting her pussy—made Edie's vision blur at the edges. Her stomach clenched, her thighs slick with sweat and spit, her toes curling in the dirt. She was being *ruined* by her dad, stretched impossibly wide, her tiny body trembling under the brutal onslaught.

Then—suddenly—she grabbed for the massage gun, her fingers fumbling against the smooth plastic. Rob watched, amazed, as she pressed the buzzing head against her clit with a desperate, hiccuping sob. The vibration shot through her like lightning, her back arching violently, her cunt spasming around his cock. The pain didn’t fade—but the vibration made it bearable.

Rob groaned, his hips jerking forward instinctively, burying himself fractionally deeper inside her. His finger worked slower now, twisting inside her tight little arse hole, the spit-slicked digit dragging against the delicate inner ring of muscle. Edie whimpered, her face pressed into the dirt, her thighs trembling violently as he stretched her open—first one finger, then, with a wet *pop*, he pulled free just long enough to spit thickly against her clenched entrance before pushing back in—two fingers this time.

She pressed the massager as hard as she could against herself, her tiny fingers shaking, her breath coming in ragged little gasps. The vibrations drowned out *some* of the pain—not all, never all—but enough to make her hips jerk involuntarily, fucking herself back onto her father's cock. Rob groaned above her, his fingers working slower now—almost cruelly slow—twisting inside her bum with torturous precision. He pulled his fingers free with a wet *shlick*, the sudden emptiness making Edie whimper, her rim fluttering pathetically. Then—before she could catch her breath—he spat thickly onto her twitching hole, the glob of saliva dripping down her cleft.

She felt him shift, left his cock pull free from her pussy with a wet, sucking pop that made her whimper—only for the blunt, swollen head of him to press against her now-slick and puffy anus. Edie's breath hitched, her whole body tensing like a rabbit caught in a snare. The vibration from the massage gun still buzzed against her clit, but even that couldn't drown out the terror clawing up her throat.

Rob slowly pushed forward, his cockhead gradually spaying open her slick, puffy, reddened hole. Edie tried to buck, but he held her in place with his strong hands. The massage gun was buzzing furiously against her clit, but she didn't feel anything but white-hot agony as he pushed into her. She screamed, and suddenly the head popped past her sphincter, making her shake wildly. Rob moaned—it was the tightest hole he'd ever felt. Her legs kicked uselessly, her fingers clawed at the dirt, her chest heaved with panicked breaths—but he kept going, sliding inch by inch, until he was buried halfway inside her little bumhole. The pain was unbearable—Edie sobbed and spasmed, but the vibrations against her clit made her body betray her—her hips twitched backward, forcing him deeper still. Rob groaned—her tightness was unbelievable. He stopped, her pucker twitching wildly around his cock, her tiny body trembling beneath him. "Daddy," she sobbed. Rob didn't answer—he just pulled back, dragging his cock almost all the way out before sliding forward again. Edie shrieked, her vision blurring—she was being split apart, her insides rearranged—but the massager's vibrations kept her clit buzzing, kept her body reacting—kept her hips jerking back into each brutal thrust—until she didn't know if she was screaming from pain or pleasure anymore.

She came suddenly—violently—her body seizing as another orgasm was forced from her- taken almost against her will. Her bumhole clenched impossibly tighter around Rob's cock, her thighs trembled, her toes curled—she couldn't breathe, couldn't think—just white-hot agony and pleasure crashing together until her vision went black at the edges. Rob growled above her, his hips starting to move faster—as her tiny body convulsed around him. He didn't stop—wouldn't stop—not until she'd cum again—and again—until she was nothing but a sobbing, trembling mess beneath him.

Her cunt had been tight—but shallow— her bumhole was deeper, tighter still—a hot, clenching vice that swallowed his entire length . There was no cervix to stop him, no barrier—just a slick tight sheath. He bottomed out inside her with a wet *smack*, his balls pressed flush against her tiny slick cunt- the vibrations from the massager still buzzing against her clit.

Edie screamed—high-pitched and ragged—her tiny body convulsing beneath him as another sorgasm tore through her. Rob groaned, his fingers digging into the soft swell of her hips, his cock pulsing inside her tight little rear hole. Her ring stretched smooth by his girth gripped as he withdrew, the taught skin pulling outwards around him before snapping back as he thrust forward again. The massage gun still buzzed against her clit, her fingers twitching around it uselessly, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

Rob moved slower now—long, deliberate strokes, dragging the entire length of his cock out to the very tip, then back in balls deep, stretching her rim, his heavy balls slapped wetly against her puffy, swollen labia. The wet sound of flesh on flesh filled the air, mingling with Edie’s whimpers and Rob’s ragged breathing. Her bumhole had gone from searing agony to a dull, throbbing ache—but the vibrations against her clit still sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her small body, making her hips jerk weakly backward, fucking herself on him even as tears streaked her flushed cheeks.

Then—suddenly—his rhythm stuttered. Rob’s grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh hard. Edie gasped as he slammed into her one last time—*deep*—his cock pulsing violently inside her tight little hole. She felt it—the hot, thick spurts of cum flooding her insides, the way his shaft twitched against her tender walls with each pulse. He groaned above her, his voice rough and broken, his hips grinding forward as he emptied himself into her, filling her up in a way that made her stomach clench.

The second the last shuddering spasm left him, the guilt hit like a bucket of ice water. Rob went rigid, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. *What the fuck had he just done?* His fingers trembled where they still gripped her hips—his teenage daughter’s hips—her tiny body limp and trembling beneath him, streaked with dirt and sweat and *him*. The massage gun had fallen silent beside them, its buzz lost in the wheat. Edie’s breath hitched—a wet, hiccuping sound—and Rob’s stomach twisted violently. He pulled out of her with a wet *shlick*, his cum leaking obscenely from her stretched gaping little rear hole, dripping down onto red puffy folds of her abused cunt.

Edie didn’t move. Didn’t scramble away. Just lay there, her forehead pressed into the dirt, her fingers curled into limp fists. Her thighs trembled—whether from exertion or shock, Rob couldn’t tell—but the sight of her tiny body, used and shaking, made his throat tighten. *Christ.* He’d—*fuck*—he’d *raped* her. His own *daughter*. The realization slammed into him like a fist to the gut, bile rising sharp and acidic in his throat.

Edie’s breath hitched—a wet, hiccuping sound—but she didn’t cry. Not yet. Her mind was a dizzying, fractured thing, split between the echo of pain still throbbing in her bum and the lingering buzz between her legs where the massager had been. She’d *cum*, cum a lot. She didn't know how many times. That was the worst part. She’d cum while he was—while he *hurt* her. Her fingers twitched against the dirt, her lips parted around a silent scream she couldn’t voice. What did that make her? Had she enjoyed it? Wanted it? The questions slithered through her head like snakes, coiling tighter and tighter until she couldn’t breathe.