OP 29 January, 2026 - 09:53 PM
The server room door clicked shut behind Alex like a promise kept too late. She was barely eighteen—fresh ink on her ID still smelling of laminate—and the weight of her daddy issues clung to her like cheap perfume. Long legs in ripped black tights, cropped hoodie barely covering the black lace bralette underneath, hair in messy space-buns that screamed “I want to be ruined and told I’m good anyway.”
Liars was already waiting.
He sat in the high-back office chair that creaked under his weight, legs spread wide, black jeans unbuttoned just enough. The blue glow from the racks carved sharp shadows across his face—high cheekbones, perpetual five-o’clock shadow, eyes dark and unreadable. His cock lay heavy against his thigh, thick even soft, veins prominent like power cables under skin. Techno-daddy incarnate: uncut, unapologetic, the kind of dick that looked engineered for worship.
Alex stopped three feet away, chewing her lower lip, thumbs hooked in the waistband of her skirt.
“You’re late,” Liars said. Voice low, calm, the same tone he used to announce domain mirrors or payment fixes.
“I… got nervous.” Her voice cracked on the last word. Small. Needy.
He crooked one finger. “Come here, baby girl.”
She crossed the distance in two shaky steps and dropped to her knees between his thighs without being told. The concrete was cold through her tights. She looked up at him—wide doe eyes, pupils blown, mascara already threatening to run.
Liars reached down, cupped her chin with two fingers, thumb brushing her bottom lip until she opened for him.
“You’ve been thinking about this since you turned eighteen, haven’t you?”
A tiny nod. “Every night.”
“Tell Daddy what you need.”
Her breath hitched. “I need… I need you to make it hurt a little. And then make it feel good. And then tell me I’m your good girl even if I cry.”
Liars smiled—slow, predatory, proud.
He freed himself fully. The head of his cock brushed her cheek, warm and heavy, leaving a faint wet streak. She whimpered at the contact.
“Open.”
She did. Wide. Tongue flat.
He fed himself in slowly at first—letting her adjust to the girth that stretched her lips thin. When she gagged softly he paused, stroked her hair, murmured, “Breathe through your nose, princess. You can take it.”
She tried. Tears welled immediately. Mascara began its slow descent.
Liars slid deeper until her nose pressed against his pubic bone. Held her there. Counted to ten in his head while she trembled and drooled around him.
“Good girl,” he rasped when he finally let her pull back. Strings of spit connected her lips to the glistening head. “Look at you. Already crying for it.”
Alex nodded frantically, chin slick, eyes pleading.
He stood, hauled her up by the biceps like she weighed nothing, spun her, bent her over the nearest rack. Her palms slapped metal. He yanked her skirt up, tights ripped open at the crotch in one brutal motion—fabric tearing loud in the quiet room.
No panties underneath. Just bare, glistening cunt already swollen and dripping.
Liars pressed the fat head against her entrance. Teased. Circled her clit once with the tip until she sobbed.
“Please—Daddy—please—”
He sank in with one long, unrelenting stroke.
Alex screamed—high, broken, beautiful. Back arched, ass pushing back instinctively even as her thighs shook from the stretch. He was huge. Unyielding. Filling her so completely she could feel him in her throat again.
Liars didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her hard from the start—deep, punishing thrusts that slapped skin on skin, rattled the rack, made cables sway like pendulums. One hand fisted her hair, yanking her head back so he could see her face in profile—mouth open, tears streaming, cheeks flushed.
“You love this, don’t you?” he growled against her ear. “Getting fucked stupid by a man old enough to be your real daddy. Getting split open on cock that doesn’t give a fuck about gentle.”
“Yes—yes—fuck—Daddy—”
He reached around, found her clit, rubbed hard circles that made her legs buckle.
“Say it louder.”
“I love it—I love your big dick ruining me—please don’t stop—”
He didn’t. He fucked her until the rack sang metallic protest, until her knees gave and he had to hold her up by the hips. Until she came with a wail that echoed off the walls—pussy clenching so tight he groaned, hips stuttering.
Liars pulled out right at the edge, spun her around, pushed her to her knees again.
“Open.”
She did—mouth wide, tongue out, mascara rivers on her cheeks.
He stroked himself twice and came in thick, hot ropes across her face, lips, tongue. Painted her like a claim.
When the last pulse landed she swallowed what she could, then looked up at him with wrecked, adoring eyes.
Liars cupped her cheek, thumb smearing cum across her lower lip.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice soft now, almost tender. “Such a perfect little mess for Daddy.”
Alex leaned into his palm, trembling, spent, smiling through tears.
And in the cathedral of humming servers, the only sound left was her shaky breathing—and the quiet drip of his release hitting concrete.
The requiem continued.
Liars was already waiting.
He sat in the high-back office chair that creaked under his weight, legs spread wide, black jeans unbuttoned just enough. The blue glow from the racks carved sharp shadows across his face—high cheekbones, perpetual five-o’clock shadow, eyes dark and unreadable. His cock lay heavy against his thigh, thick even soft, veins prominent like power cables under skin. Techno-daddy incarnate: uncut, unapologetic, the kind of dick that looked engineered for worship.
Alex stopped three feet away, chewing her lower lip, thumbs hooked in the waistband of her skirt.
“You’re late,” Liars said. Voice low, calm, the same tone he used to announce domain mirrors or payment fixes.
“I… got nervous.” Her voice cracked on the last word. Small. Needy.
He crooked one finger. “Come here, baby girl.”
She crossed the distance in two shaky steps and dropped to her knees between his thighs without being told. The concrete was cold through her tights. She looked up at him—wide doe eyes, pupils blown, mascara already threatening to run.
Liars reached down, cupped her chin with two fingers, thumb brushing her bottom lip until she opened for him.
“You’ve been thinking about this since you turned eighteen, haven’t you?”
A tiny nod. “Every night.”
“Tell Daddy what you need.”
Her breath hitched. “I need… I need you to make it hurt a little. And then make it feel good. And then tell me I’m your good girl even if I cry.”
Liars smiled—slow, predatory, proud.
He freed himself fully. The head of his cock brushed her cheek, warm and heavy, leaving a faint wet streak. She whimpered at the contact.
“Open.”
She did. Wide. Tongue flat.
He fed himself in slowly at first—letting her adjust to the girth that stretched her lips thin. When she gagged softly he paused, stroked her hair, murmured, “Breathe through your nose, princess. You can take it.”
She tried. Tears welled immediately. Mascara began its slow descent.
Liars slid deeper until her nose pressed against his pubic bone. Held her there. Counted to ten in his head while she trembled and drooled around him.
“Good girl,” he rasped when he finally let her pull back. Strings of spit connected her lips to the glistening head. “Look at you. Already crying for it.”
Alex nodded frantically, chin slick, eyes pleading.
He stood, hauled her up by the biceps like she weighed nothing, spun her, bent her over the nearest rack. Her palms slapped metal. He yanked her skirt up, tights ripped open at the crotch in one brutal motion—fabric tearing loud in the quiet room.
No panties underneath. Just bare, glistening cunt already swollen and dripping.
Liars pressed the fat head against her entrance. Teased. Circled her clit once with the tip until she sobbed.
“Please—Daddy—please—”
He sank in with one long, unrelenting stroke.
Alex screamed—high, broken, beautiful. Back arched, ass pushing back instinctively even as her thighs shook from the stretch. He was huge. Unyielding. Filling her so completely she could feel him in her throat again.
Liars didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her hard from the start—deep, punishing thrusts that slapped skin on skin, rattled the rack, made cables sway like pendulums. One hand fisted her hair, yanking her head back so he could see her face in profile—mouth open, tears streaming, cheeks flushed.
“You love this, don’t you?” he growled against her ear. “Getting fucked stupid by a man old enough to be your real daddy. Getting split open on cock that doesn’t give a fuck about gentle.”
“Yes—yes—fuck—Daddy—”
He reached around, found her clit, rubbed hard circles that made her legs buckle.
“Say it louder.”
“I love it—I love your big dick ruining me—please don’t stop—”
He didn’t. He fucked her until the rack sang metallic protest, until her knees gave and he had to hold her up by the hips. Until she came with a wail that echoed off the walls—pussy clenching so tight he groaned, hips stuttering.
Liars pulled out right at the edge, spun her around, pushed her to her knees again.
“Open.”
She did—mouth wide, tongue out, mascara rivers on her cheeks.
He stroked himself twice and came in thick, hot ropes across her face, lips, tongue. Painted her like a claim.
When the last pulse landed she swallowed what she could, then looked up at him with wrecked, adoring eyes.
Liars cupped her cheek, thumb smearing cum across her lower lip.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice soft now, almost tender. “Such a perfect little mess for Daddy.”
Alex leaned into his palm, trembling, spent, smiling through tears.
And in the cathedral of humming servers, the only sound left was her shaky breathing—and the quiet drip of his release hitting concrete.
The requiem continued.