Daddy's Rape Cabin
Daddy’s Rape Cabin
Nym Hexel
The snow fell in thick, relentless waves outside the remote mountain cabin nestled deep in the woods, far from any other signs of life. It was Christmas Eve, and the isolation wrapped around the two-story rustic structure like a heavy blanket, muffling the world beyond the frosted windows. Logan Carter, a 45-year-old widower standing at 6'2" with a powerfully built frame from decades in construction, broad shoulders, thick arms, and a solid chest dusted with dark hair, had driven his daughter up here for what he called a much-needed father-daughter reset. The cabin featured a massive stone fireplace crackling with warmth in the open living room, a large bearskin rug spread before it, a worn leather couch, and panoramic windows overlooking the frozen lake. Upstairs was the master bedroom, but they hadn't made it there yet. Logan’s wife had passed five years ago, and ever since, his gaze on Brooke had shifted from protective father to something far more possessive and hungry.
Brooke Carter, his 21-year-old daughter, stood by the window in the living room, her supple 5'6" body clad in an oversized fleece that hung loosely over her full C-cup breasts and a pair of tight black leggings that clung to her toned yoga-sculpted legs and firm, round ass. Her long chestnut hair fell down her back, and her dark eyes reflected the dancing flames as she clutched a mug of hot cocoa. College had kept her away most of the year. Still, the tension between them had simmered during her visits home—Logan’s lingering hugs, the way his eyes traced her curves when she wore anything revealing. These compliments crossed from fatherly into flirtatious territory.
“Daddy, this place is beautiful, but it feels so cut off from everything,” Brooke said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of unease as she stared out at the white expanse. “I wish we could have stayed in town with some other people around. It’s too quiet here.”
Logan moved behind her slowly, his large hands settling on her shoulders with a firm squeeze. The heat of his body pressed close, his breath warm against the side of her neck, carrying the faint scent of the whiskey he’d sipped earlier by the fire. “That’s exactly why I brought you here, princess. Just you and me. No distractions, no college friends, no one to interrupt us reconnecting. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman, Brooke. It’s been driving me crazy watching you these past months.”
She stiffened under his touch, shifting slightly as if to pull away, but his grip held her in place. “Daddy, you’re being weird again. Can we just watch a movie or something? This doesn’t feel right.” Her words held hesitation, a reluctant edge, yet her body responded with a subtle shiver as one of his hands slid down her arm, fingers brushing the side of her breast through the sweater. Her nipples tightened instantly against the soft fabric, and a forbidden warmth began to bloom low in her belly despite the voice in her head screaming that this was wrong.
He ...