Help your daughter understand detox.

"How many days has it been since your period, baby?" In truth, you've forgotten: shortly after teaching her all about breakfast, her period hit like an insult to your virility. You've been holding back on your 'cleanings' as a result, preferring to let her get comfortable in her current position: in your bed, her tight young body bent over your crotch and sucking with increasing proficiency. You're having a lazy morning, so you just cradle your head in your hands and let her work with a smile.

She pops you out of her mouth, but only long enough to answer. "Like... over a week ago? I think almost two weeks ago." She goes back down, and you grin widens. You lack the sort of connections needed to get her fertility pills without raising eyebrows, but you understand the improved chances of conception under which she now operates. It might explain her eagerness to suck you off, or how well your training of your personal slut is going: on that note, you sit up and pull away from her. "Daddy, is something wrong?"

"Not at all sweety," you sigh. She isn't the only one who takes issue with you pulling away, but you resist the urge to nut inside any of her holes today; you've been coming daily with her in your familial bonding sessions, and all the research you did online is telling you to give your balls one day of rest to maximize your chances. "It just... it just won't be enough to save you."

"S-Save me?!"

"You can skip a day or two," you sigh, pushing hard on your apparent dismay, "but you went two weeks without it, and... and I can tell you're not going to survive much longer without detox."

She blinks, still naked and on her knees and hands, and cocks her head to the side. "Detox?"

You nod, and bound off the bed to slide out a large, flat plastic container out from under your bed. You place it on top like a child eagerly unwrapping a Christmas gift, and look at all the toys therein with a new elation. She looks in as well... and is only confused by the vibrating eggs, beads, the straps and chains, and the generous lengths of Velcro rope you ordered from online. Of course, she had never been exposed to sexual toys or their uses growing up... and apparently neither had her AGS friends. She leans her head in further, trying to decipher the purpose of the strange collection. "What am I... how do we do detox? How much longer can I go without it?"

"Oh honey... not long at all. I mean, we shouldn't have gone on as long as we have, I just thought maybe we... well, I was wrong, so now detox is all we have left."

"B-But I feel great!"

"We've put you back on track lately, sure, but your hesitation to bond with me tells me you're suffering from malnutrition... it hardly helps that you're still uncomfortable with the cleanings, after all," you chastise. You've been very good about not forcing the issue; you want her to come to worship and love your cock without fear, and outright **** was too dangerous for your delicate machine... and too easy, if you're being honest with yourself. Even so, she doesn't seem so eager to avoid the unknown detox by once again taking your cock where it belongs. "So for the next twenty-four hours, you're going to undergo detoxification... not just for you, Isabella, but also because I love you, and I need you to be able to love me back."

Her eyes widen, and she leaps to hug you. "B-But I do love you! I finally... I finally know you're my dad. And with... without mom... I..."

"Shhh shh shh shh." You caress her hair and hold her nude form against you, trying to not smile as she buries her face in your chest. "Come on then... it starts at the bathroom." She looks up at your wolfish grin; meekly, she smiles back.

[...]

Reading and researching more about fertility online, you notice the time: Jesus, it's 6:05PM! You're five minutes late, but surely she's cleaned out by now. You lock your computer and head over to the bathroom; it's her third stay there, each interrupting her time on your bed on this arduous day of training. The door is open when you approach it, because you left it that way; she has no power to do otherwise, because you've tied her once more to the toilet, her naked, quivering body hovering over the bowl while her arms remain tied to the top of her head. Her perky breasts quiver with the rest of her body, the jolting results of the three vibrating eggs you've taped into her pussy for the last hour. Her entire body is covered in a thick sheen of dripping sweat; you turned the heater on, leading for an uncomfortable warmth for you that is only comforted by knowing she's sweating and spasming wherever you put her. You fill a stainless steel mixing bowl with water, and remove the gag over her mouth. "Thirsty, baby?"

"Puh-please-gahg" Her words turn to sputtering as you tip the bowl into her mouth, letting the water slowly pour down her gullet to refill all that makes her body slick. You let your hand roam that sweaty, filthy body, deprived of her morning bath and now dripping out what she thinks is more build-up of toxins and poisons from not taking her father's seed for two weeks. "Daddy, I'm... I'm going to come again, please take them ooooOOoout!" Her body spasms as she says, and more of her nectar drips through the seal of tape keeping the vibrators in her soaked cunt. "Daddy, please... can I pleeease eat food? I'm so hungry...!"

"Not until we finish the detox, baby... you just need to be strong for me and you, OK? Just water to get out all the bad and pleasure to keep in all the good."

"I..." She bends her head down as much as her bindings will let her, and looks down into the bowl. You already know what she wants to say, and you give her a courtesy flush.

"There you go, baby... I'll wipe you clean soon enough, and then we can move on to the enema."

"Tuh... the what?!"

You give her a frank look. "Did you think detox wouldn't involve a deep cleansing? Come on, darling; we need to hurry if we're going to make it to bed at a reasonable time tonight." You re-position the gag to quiet her protests, and tighten the red ball until it's firmly seated back between her teeth, allowing her to continue drooling all over herself. With more of that childish eagerness, you head back into your bedroom and produce, from the same box on the bed that bound her to the toilet and those eggs into her cooter, your prized toy: a gallon bag made from thick rubber, a transparent tube with release nozzles on either end... and a small, intricately dick-shaped insert at the other end. Her eyes widen as you re-enter the bathroom with the unconventionally large everything about this kit. Slowly, without ever unbinding her wrists, you remove the various knots and clasps that held the toilet to her crotch and ass, and push her head forward so you can use disinfecting wipes to clean the mess she made of herself. She weeps quietly as you work, until finally you raise her back up and work her gag back off. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"I'm... I'm scaaahahaaared..." she sobs... and then shakes harder as she starts to come again from the vibrators inside her.

"Oh baby, don't be... please be strong for me?" You hug her again, letting her sweat-slick body slide against your own bare flesh. "Be strong for me... and for your survival. This is very serious, Isabella."

Her despair quiets into whimpers, but she nods into your shoulder. With hands shaking in anticipation, you uncork the tiny bottle of KY on the bathroom counter and try your best to not let her watch as you grin from ear to ear.