1 comments/ 74882 views/ 9 favorites jo4daddy Ch. 01 By: WFEATHER I happened to be on my favorite blog site late one night and decided to look for any users in my area, something I had not done since early in the year. As I scrolled through the list, there were the usual provocative usernames: babygirl1973, wantonslut69, 420slave, kittenskitty, etc. There were usernames which were most likely for male users as well, but none of those truly jumped out at me. One of the usernames caught my attention: jo4daddy. Perhaps I focused more on that username because my own daughter was named Josephine, although everyone in the family called her Jo for short, plus the fact that she had always called me Daddy, never Dad or Papa or Father. I was not unfamiliar with the Daddy/girl concept, as I had a few online friends who participated in that type of role play, but I initially thought jo4daddy was simply another Daddy/girl person. That username lurked at the back of my mind all night, however, and in the morning, I had to satisfy my curiosity. As I inhaled the morning coffee, I sat at the kitchen table with the laptop and went back to the blog site to find jo4daddy. From the Profile page, jo4daddy appeared to be a typical young college student. She was a Junior attending an unnamed college in the suburbs - and since there are many such colleges in the area, no one could truly pinpoint her location from that information. Her profile listed a number of interests, which not surprisingly included sex, as well as bondage, spanking, light whipping, orgasm denial, asphyxia, and older men. It was a non-sexual interest, however, which truly caught my attention: Perfect Blue, an anime film she truly adored. ...just like Jo. In fact, Jo and I both really liked that film because it is so atypical of what most people think of on hearing the term "anime." The Perfect Blue reference drew my curiosity even more, but a quick glance at the laptop's clock showed that I needed to get ready for work. Throughout the day, I kept wondering about jo4daddy. Was jo4daddy actually my Jo? I tried to picture my daughter bound to the bedposts as some mysterious guy used a whip on her, making her struggle and cry out into the candlelit night. I tried to imagine her bent over a chair, being taken from behind as the mysterious guy's hands tightened around her neck. ...yet those thoughts seemed so at odds with the young woman I knew, the girl I had raised for two decades. The Jo I knew was shy, quiet, unassuming. Whenever she had come home from college, she was still the same little girl, only taller and with longer hair. Was my daughter essentially living a double life? Was she being "sweet and innocent" at home and wild and naughty at college? I would have no problem with her being sexual and engaging in bondage and whipping - I had done that myself in college. As a college student, certainly she would be exposed to things she had likely never considered and would be practically expected to experiment with various things. The "older men" interest concerned me a bit, however, given that, typically, the "older men" one encounters on a college campus are the professors, and as a friend had experienced when we were in college, a professor/student relationship always ends badly. But I realized that I was most likely jumping to conclusions. The "jo" in jo4daddy could have been just about anything, just about anyone. Perhaps the "jo" was for someone who uses "Jo" or "Josephine" or another name beginning with those two letters as a play name or as an online persona. The "daddy" could be a reference to a Daddy/girl relationship. ...or the "daddy" could be a reference to me with the "jo" designating my own daughter. Throughout the day, I kept glancing at the pictures of Jo on my office desk. One was of my daughter in her cap and gown at her high school graduation, diploma proudly in hand. The other picture was of Jo proudly sitting at the wheel of the old Honda Accord she had bought with her savings after her sophomore year of college. Yet somehow, I just could not picture her with the interested jo4daddy had listed in her profile. She was planning to come home for the weekend, so perhaps I would learn more about my daughter in a few days - at least enough to determine if she truly was jo4daddy. ***** Over the next few evenings, I did some "research" concerning jo4daddy. It began with trying to view her blog entries, but unfortunately most of them were Friends-locked, and from what I could read it seemed that jo4daddy also had several filters on her blog, one of which was named "Daddy." That filter name was appropriate given her username and the title of her blog, "jo 4 Daddy," but it did not answer the core question of whether this jo was indeed my Jo. There were a few quiz results viewable to the general Internet public. One of them was a quiz about 1980s anime, and she scored as an "Almost-otaku," which made me smile but also made me wonder even more if I was looking at my daughter's blog. Another quiz result grabbed my attention: "Bound to be Ravished." I followed the link to the quiz itself and saw that it proclaimed to uncover one's preferred style of bondage. Beneath the quiz result, jo4daddy had added a note: There's one particular person I want to have ravish me while I'm bound to his bedposts, or mine if he prefers. I just want to be there, bound and naked and unable to stop him from taking me, no choice in the matter as he uses me and shoots deep inside me. Reading that addition certainly aroused me and made me think again about similar experiences in college, particularly with Betsy, but I still could not envision my Jo being in such a position. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed that jo4daddy was not my Jo. Part of me wanted to create a blog on the site and try to befriend jo4daddy so I could access her Friends-locked entries, especially those on her Daddy and her BDSM filters. Yet I was uncertain how I would react if in fact jo4daddy was indeed my Jo - how would I be able to look at her the same way? The following evening, I decided to search for jo4daddy on Google. The only result I could find was a picture of a tiny kitten about to swat at a mouse. My daughter had long liked cats but had never owned one, and she definitely did not like mice and even bristled at some cartoon mice, so whether jo4daddy was indeed my Jo was still undetermined. But I kept wondering if my daughter was essentially living two personas: one at college and one at home. If she was, it was definitely understandable, for she clearly would not want her father to know about any kinky interests, and she probably wanted - at least in part - to remain the little girl I would often bounce on my knee or hold close during a strong thunderstorm. That night, I went into Jo's bedroom to straighten things up as I usually would do the night before she came home from college. Standing in the pastel haven, I could almost feel her presence, almost feel her hug. I thought of the many bedtime stories I had read to her here, thought of the laughter of Jo and her friends emerging from this bedroom, thought of the soft music wafting through the door as she finished her homework. It did not feel like the bedroom of someone who enjoyed being spanked or choked. I looked at her bed, the four wooden posts certainly strong enough to be used as anchors for restraining someone. Curiosity made me step closer to inspect the bedposts, but I saw no signs of chaffing from ropes or chains or any other item used to restrain someone. For a moment, I saw Betsy. The ropes were secured to her ankles and wrists and anchored to the bedposts. Her breasts were topped with large proud nipples reddened by plenty of biting. There was a noticeable wet spot between her thighs from the lengthy teasing and the equally-lengthy lovemaking. And then, for the briefest of heartbeats, I saw Jo in Betsy's place. That was when I realized that, deep in the recesses of my mind, perhaps I actually was thinking about my daughter as a sexual, kinky person. Perhaps I truly could envision her being bound and ravished with a mysterious older guy emptying his lust deep inside her body. I felt guilty for thinking of my daughter in that way, but somehow, inexplicably and despite the expectations of society, my arousal only continued to grow as I thought about that brief vision of Jo bound to these four bedposts, bound and naked in her own bedroom. But I still was unsure whether my daughter actually was jo4daddy. jo4daddy Ch. 02 Jo was just stepping out of the Accord when I returned home from work. We shared a heartfelt hug in the driveway, and a few moments later were taking her laundry down to the basement. I had not seen my daughter since the end of the summer. She had gained a bit more of a tan, which made me wonder if I was paying through the nose for her to learn or to lay in the sun. I quickly cast that thought aside, however, since I had only rarely ever known her to actually lay in the sun. She likely had a professor who enjoyed having classes outdoors while the weather was still warm enough for it. Dinner was rather low-key: pizza and salad. The conversation was light and upbeat. As we spoke and ate, I kept wondering if the woman across the table from me as also jo4daddy. In a way, I hoped that she was, yet in a way, I hoped that she was not. "So," I finally asked, "should I start looking for a tux to rent?" "A tux?" she responded with obvious confusion. "I figure you'll want me to wear a tuxedo at your wedding." "Oh!" She smiled softly and averted her hazel eyes as a blush began to color her face and neck. "I guess I'd better start looking for a tux then." "There is a guy," she admitted quietly, finally looking at me again. "I doubt there'll be a wedding anytime soon, but he is interesting." "I see. Well, I guess I won't rent a tux yet, but don't make me go buy a shotgun, okay?" It took her a moment to understand the reference. "I won't, Daddy. I promise." "Good. Just be careful." "I know, Daddy." And we left it at that. ***** That night, I passed by my daughter's bedroom. The door was just slightly ajar, and while I could not see her, I could hear her typing at her laptop, which surprised me for a Friday night. I knocked softly, and she called me in. "Homework?" I asked, glancing over her shoulder toward the screen. I could tell that she had Microsoft Word open, but could not see what she was typing. She shook her head. "A friend wanted me to edit a story he'd written for a contest, so I'm typing my comments and sending it back." "Oh? Well, you've always seemed to be a good writer," I praised her, "so I'm sure you're a good editor. What's the story about?" "Uh..." She hesitated, clearly not wanting to divulge the information. "It's about an adventurer - think Lara Croft several hundred years in the future - who ends up crash-landing on an uncharted planet and encounters the local wildlife." "That does sound interesting," I acknowledged, her short description instantly bringing several sci-fi books and short stories to mind. "I'll leave you to the editing. If you don't think your friend would mind another opinion, I'd be interested in reading it." "Um, I'll check. After all, she doesn't know you." That caught my attention, but I purposely did not make an issue of it. "Okay." With that, I left her alone, closing the door fully behind me as I left my daughter's bedroom. ***** Jo was gone by midmorning to buy some things she needed which were more expensive at or near the college. It happened that I was going down to the basement freezer to get some steaks to thaw when I heard the dryer buzz loudly. Figuring I would be nice, I opened the dryer and placed the clothes on the small table. It struck me that, for the first time in perhaps six years, I was folding laundry for someone other than myself. In high school, Jo had insisted on doing her own laundry, probably because she was suddenly embarrassed that her father would see or even touch her bras and panties. That was understandable, as my sister had acted that way as well, although from an earlier age. When finished, I put everything in the old laundry basket she still used and took her clean clothes to her bedroom. To my surprise, the laptop had been left turned on, and the screen showed a familiar sight: The main jo4daddy blog page. I recognized the black background and the image across the top which was an interesting representation of the Tokyo skyline. I recognized the picture posted at the top left of the first entry on the page: a Japanese female in a typical sailor fuku, ropes confining her chest and making her breasts more prominent as a large blindfold rendered her sightless and assured her anonymity and a large ball gag filled her mouth and made her drool into her cleavage. Except for the drool, the image appealed to me, and once I set Jo's laundry basket by her bed, I approached the laptop, looking more closely at the image of the bound young woman before turning to the content of the topmost post: I wish I could be the adventurer in the story I'm writing. I would love to be assaulted by tentacles sprouting up from the ground and having their kinky way with me. I can easily imagine several tentacles restraining my ankles and wrists while others try to force themselves inside me. I'm sure I'd be at least a little afraid, so my struggling would be genuine, but the violation would almost certainly render me docile eventually, and I'd find the pleasure in the inhuman rape. Hopefully at least one tentacle would also wrap around my neck and slowly squeeze and make me fight just to breathe. I love how the lack of air makes me more aroused and generally makes my body more sensitive, especially my erogenous zones. I just wish my That was as far as I could read without scrolling down, but I definitely did not want to touch the laptop. I did not want Jo to know that I had seen this page. She would know that I'd been in her bedroom just because the laundry basket was beside her bed. But that could be changed. I retreated, taking the laundry basket with me and leaving the bedroom door ajar again. Setting the basket beside the door, I walked away. ...returning to my laptop in the den. I instantly went to the jo4daddy blog, but that particular entry, not surprisingly, was Friends-locked. Going to her profile page, I opened the detail section and saw that she had last received a comment in her blog not fifteen minutes earlier. Granted, the comment could have been to that entry, but it could also have been to any other entry to which the commenter had access. I wish I could be the adventurer in the story I'm writing. So much for the "friend" Jo had mentioned. So much for checking with the "friend" for permission for me to see the story. My daughter writing about tentacle sex... It was almost baffling. I had seen tentacle sex video clips and related anime-style drawings online. Personally, I did not understand the appeal of tentacle sex. That was the first sign that Jo was in any way sexual. Yes, she had occasionally bought and worn clothes with plunging necklines to show her cleavage, but they were definitely rather tasteful clothes, nothing truly overtly sexual. Yes, she had occasionally bought and worn clothes which were practically molded to her body, but that was an almost rare occurrence. I leaned back in the chair, trying to decide whether I should create a new account and purposely try to befriend jo4daddy. The curiosity was growing. There was definitely no hard proof that the story from the "friend" and the story jo4daddy mentioned in her blog were in fact the same story, and thus also no hard proof that Jo was jo4daddy. It could have been just pure coincidence that Jo had left the jo4daddy blog on the screen of her laptop. I looked at the picture of Jo on my desk. She had been a bridesmaid for a cousin's wedding the previous summer, and she was definitely beautiful, her lengthy brown hair spilling over her shoulders and down the front of her lavender dress, proudly holding the bouquet which had been thrown. Jo seemed so innocent in that picture - innocent and mature in the way she posed, blushing slightly because she had been the one to catch the bouquet. Jo was definitely mature. She had long been rather mature for her age. I knew that she was no longer a little girl, but in a way, in my mind, she was still the little girl who had come home from the hospital without her mother. She was very much mature for her age, so I was sure that, even if Jo truly was jo4daddy, even if she was now a sexual woman, even if she enjoyed bondage and asphyxia and whipping and older men, she was doing everything she possibly could to be safe in every way possible. I was suddenly very, very tempted to go back into Jo's bedroom and sit at her laptop and check the history on her Web browser and scan through her hard drive for image and video files. The temptation was so great that I knew I had to leave the house until the temptation to violate her privacy had passed. Two hours and three Starbucks locations later, I came home to find Jo sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over a large textbook and making judicious use of a highlighter. She appeared to be the same girl I had raised for so long, yet in looking at her, I could just begin to see a faint glimmer of a sexual, kinky woman beginning to truly come into her own. jo4daddy Ch. 03 On that Saturday night, Jo and I decided to watch a new CG anime film I had seen at Best Buy: Vexille. We made the popcorn and had the Cokes ready, then settled back on the sofa to watch as the final rays of daylight gave way to a darkness held at bay only by the flickering images from the television screen. Not long after the popcorn was gone, my daughter leaned into me. That was not unusual, nor was the fact that I put my arm around me. We shared a smile for a moment before returning our attention to the subtitles. We were deep into the film when I realized that the small hand on my leg had moved well up my thigh. I assumed that Jo was not aware of where her hand was placed, and when I gave her a gentle squeeze, her hand did not retreat as if she recognized that she had just been caught. Once again, I wondered if the woman leaning against me was jo4daddy, if this was the same person who had written about being restrained and raped by tentacles. I turned my attention away from the screen for a moment, gazing upon her fondly yet with the questions lingering near the forefront of my mind. Shortly after I returned my attention to the film, Jo shifted against me, a breast brushing my side. If I did not have those questions in my mind, I would not have thought anything of her shifting, if I had even consciously noticed it. But since I kept trying to determine if Jo was jo4daddy, the feel of her breast against my side felt like a burning coal had been pressed against me. My body reacted, to my embarrassment. I could feel the growth begin, the initial stirring which threatened to demonstrate to Jo that my thoughts were not appropriate for a father and his daughter. Then her hand moved again, slightly higher on my thigh. The last part of the film that I remember clearly was the initial appearance of the Jags. After that, everything is a blur: trying to think about anything but the woman against me yet my body and my mind focused on her presence and especially on her hand and her breast, trying to picture my precious Jo being assaulted by tentacles yet wanting only to think of her as the bridesmaid who had caught the bouquet, wanting to enjoy the film yet truly relishing just having my arm around her, wanting to run away from this situation yet desiring to clutch my daughter tightly and revel in the press of our bodies... She was standing, stretching, her body in profile to me, the swells upon her chest highlighted perfectly as the credits rolled just behind her. Jo smiled at me. "Great choice, Daddy," she approved. All too soon, she was in her bedroom as I cleaned up and set the dishwasher to its task. Fortunately, my arousal had never grown to a full erection, but I was almost one hundred percent certain that Jo had been aware of my body's reaction during the film. If she had indeed noticed, she never gave an indication, and that only caused me to wonder yet again if she was leading a double life. I heard the shower running in Jo's bathroom, but did not think much about it until some thirty minutes later when I realized that I had not heard her turn off the water. Fortunately, the water system in the house was good enough for both a shower and the dishwasher to operate at the same time without any trouble, but a thirty-minute shower certainly seemed unusual. ...unless Jo had indeed noticed my arousal during the film and was masturbating herself to an orgasm - or two or three. The dishwasher finished its work before I heard the water flow end in Jo's bathroom. By the time she emerged, I was downstairs finishing with a magazine from the day's mail. I looked up to find her wrapped in her favorite pink terrycloth robe, the same one I had bought her for her sixteenth birthday. The pink Hello Kitty slippers seemed a bit childish in relation to the robe, but the slippers helped to anchor her in my mind as the teenage girl who had gushed with excitement when she had worn the robe for the first time. "Going to bed?" I asked. "Not yet," she replied as the scent of her favorite shampoo reached me. "But I did want to get a drink to take to the bedroom with me." "Okay." Somehow, I had a feeling that she wanted to say something, perhaps ask me a question. Jo lingered a moment before going to the kitchen. When she kissed my cheek before heading upstairs, I had to wonder if she was trying to find a way to tell me something because she just seemed to linger for a moment, her lips just seemed to be pressed to my cheek longer than usual, her hand on my shoulder seemed to squeeze just a little more than normal. But soon she was gone, and when I heard her bedroom door close, I released the breath I did not realize I had been holding. Whether she was jo4daddy or not, there was definitely something happening between us, and it was both exciting and scary. ***** It was the middle of the night. A storm had begun to roll over the city as forecasted. The darkness was pierced by the glow from the digital clock atop the dresser and from the occasional flash of distant lightning. Soon, the rain began. It was initially just a gentle patter against the window by the bed, a soft rhythm against the glass. But soon came the deluge, the downpour which was loud in its own right yet practically drowned out by the strengthening rumbles tumbling down from the sky. I just closed my eyes and rolled over in an attempt to return to sleep. "Daddy?" I opened my eyes again and turned to look toward the doorway. A flash of lightning revealed my precious Jo standing in the doorway, once again wearing her cherished terrycloth robe. There was an expression of fear in her eyes, much like when she had been five or six years old and a particularly strong thunderstorm would roll over the city at night, yet her adult status seemed to prevent her from coming to me even though she already stood in the doorway with a hand trembling at her side. "It's okay," I assured her, drawing back the covers. She took the hint and, quickly but trying to appear to not be approaching quickly, my daughter came to my bedside as instinctively her hands began to untie the belt of her pink robe. Another flash of lightning caught Jo by surprise, giving her eyes a deer-in-headlights expression. Her hands stopped moving. The belt already untied, the robe had begun to part, just enough that I could see the inner swell of each breast quite clearly as another flash of lightning illuminated the bedroom. What was thus far the loudest crash of thunder startled me and made Jo cry out in fear as she threw herself onto the bed. The reaction triggered memories of quite a few nights just like this so long ago, yet when Jo lifted her head and looked up at me through the curtain of lengthy brown strands still emanating the mango scent of her shampoo from her nighttime shower, there was something far beyond childish in her eyes. "Come on," I reassured her. "Let Daddy take care of you. You'll be okay." As the rain continued to pelt the window and pound the roof, Jo slowly stood, her hands trembling a bit more, the sensuous robe further parting to confirm that she wore nothing underneath. Yet she was apparently too scared to realize that she had exposed herself to me. ...or that I was trying my hardest to not be mesmerized by the exposure. As if in slow motion, the robe was shed, slithering down her backside to pool around her feet. Fully exposed, my little girl had truly become a woman. ...and the woman before me was definitely arousing me. Another roar of thunder descended from the sky, and Jo slid quickly underneath the covers, clinging to me, pressing her trembling form against me as I drew the covers over us both. Her hair was just slightly damp against my shoulder and my neck, the mango scent even stronger due to her proximity. My daughter's proximity furthered my arousal. She was naked and vulnerable, and it aroused me - in the same way that Betsy would be naked and vulnerable, although in very different circumstances. "Daddy..." she whispered into my neck. I was once again ultra-aware of the breasts pressed against me. This time, there was no clothing to mar the contact - this was skin against skin, flesh against flesh. This time, I could feel her nipples against me. ...and as she rolled atop me, she could certainly feel the erection growing beneath her. Suddenly, the storm seemed so incredibly distant. Suddenly, all I could hear was the pounding of my heart in my ears. Suddenly, all that mattered was that there was a wonderful young woman sharing my bed. Suddenly, all I could feel was the press of her lips against mine. Even after she had finally took her head and my breath away, I could still feel her sensual, loving kiss. A particularly bright flash of lightning was simultaneously accompanied by the loudest strike of thunder I have ever heard, and I practically jumped out of my own skin. Jo's scream seized my heart, and I reached out to clutch her tightly to me in an instinctive act of protection. The scream had come from her bedroom. Without thinking, I threw off the covers and grabbed my robe from a bedpost as I hurried to the bedroom door. I was in the hallway before I consciously realized that Jo had not come to my bed, that I had only been dreaming. But the scream had definitely not been part of the dream. Without knocking, I barged into my daughter's bedroom to find her huddled against the headboard, the covers haphazardly drawn around her. She was genuinely scared, shaking like a cornered rabbit. Her eyes were wide, almost wild with her fear, and when they spotted me, she practically leapt from the bed into my arms, knocking me against her door with incredible force. The thunderstorm raged around the house as I held her tightly, trying to calm her and protect her even though I was somewhat scared by the intensity of the storm. The forecast had not predicted that the storm would be quite this bad. Fortunately, the worst of it lasted only a few minutes, if that, before the pounding deluge began to relent. As the fear finally passed from us both, only then did we come to a startling realization: We had both been sleeping au naturel. I froze, unable to find an explanation for coming to my daughter's rescue wearing only a robe which was clearly not properly closed around me. But Jo apparently did not care, for she simply slumped against me, holding me weakly. It took me a few moments to fully digest the situation, but then I helped my naked daughter to her feet and guided her back to her own bed, tucking her in - still without having properly closed the robe around me. ***** About mid-afternoon, I helped Jo take her laundry and her backpack to the car. The hug we shared in the wet driveway was as heartfelt and as genuine as usual, but there was definitely a nervousness evident between us, an uncertainty which threatened to drive us much further apart than the miles between the house and the college. I watched her drive away, heading back to her college in the suburbs, and while I was sad that she had left the house again, I was also relieved, because I needed plenty of time to ponder what had taken place during the night. jo4daddy Ch. 04 Two weekends later, Jo returned. In the interim, I had been monitoring jo4daddy daily. This user had been posting at least once per day during that period, and she had been both receiving and posting a plethora of comments. There was only one post which was not Friends-locked, and it was very, very short: I want him to come to me again, pull back the covers and find me naked again, and just lay with me in the darkness. There were quite a few comments on that post, and jo4daddy had replied to many of them, but there was still no solid proof that jo4daddy was indeed my Jo. When Jo returned, I was home from work already, and in fact had not heard her car. It was only when I heard the front door open that I came up from the basement to see my daughter had returned, the old laundry basket in her arms and her backpack hanging from a single shoulder. "Hi, Daddy!" she grinned, as if nothing unusual had happened two weeks earlier. The hug we shared contained no nervousness, no uncertainty. It was as if the events two Saturday nights earlier had simply been an elaborate dream. Jo had come home to start her laundry and then get ready for a night out with a friend from high school who was also home from college for the weekend. The woman who descended the stairs was absolutely stunning wearing a black dress which prominently pronounced the curves at her waist and hips and provided a significant view of her cleavage. It was clear that she was not wearing a bra, which made me wonder if she was wearing a panty. "Don't break too many hearts tonight," I joked with her. Even after she had left, I could still smell her perfume and still feel the imprint of her lips on my cheek. A short time later, when I was in the bathroom getting ready to go out to the nearby Barnes & Noble, I noticed in the mirror the rosy imprint of her lips on the side of my face. Then, for the briefest of moments, I had a vision of that same imprint smeared around the base of my erection with my daughter on her knees before me, looking up at me with wide hazel eyes as she slowly drew her head back and released me from her throat. Instead of going to the bookstore, I went back to the den to check the jo4daddy blog. According to her profile page, there was a new post made shortly before my daughter had left the house, but it was apparently Friends-locked. Then I decided to try searching for "jo4daddy" on Google again. This time, I found a link to a post in one of the communities on the blog site dedicated to younger women and older men. The initial post was about a high school senior wanting to entice her favorite teacher, and one of the commenters was jo4daddy: Good luck! I know what you're going through. There's one specific older man in my life I want to entice as well. I hope he's seeing the little hints I've been dropping. Feel free to friend me, and I hope you don't mind if I do the same. That definitely was not solid proof that jo4daddy was my precious Jo, but the cryptic comment made me wonder even more about that possibility. There had certainly been enough hints the last time Jo had come home from college: watching the film together as her breast and her hand were strategically placed on me, sleeping naked and not seeming to really be concerned about it when I discovered that she was not wearing anything... I never heard Jo return home that night. Around 3AM, I needed to get a drink, and as I passed my daughter's bedroom, I noticed that the door was no longer fully closed, that it had been left ajar. That at least confirmed that she had come home safely, which eased my mind a little. What really surprised me was finding Jo in the kitchen at 3AM, leaning against the counter with a glass of milk. She certainly looked tired, and wrapped in her pink terrycloth robe, she looked comfortable. "Good night out?" I asked as I went to the refrigerator. "Not bad," she replied. "I feel exhausted though." "That I can understand." We lapsed into silence as we both drank some milk, and then Jo ended the silence: "Massage me, Daddy?" It had been a long time since we had given each other massages. I had no problem with that, although I wondered just how effective I could be giving my daughter a massage so late at night. I met Jo in her bedroom a few minutes later. She was already in bed, with the covers pulled down to expose her bare back. If she wore anything, she wore only a panty, and I internally questioned that. She looked at me with a sleepy smile on her lips, and that was when I realized that while I was seeing her topless (at least), I was also topless, wearing the old sweatpants. I suppose that made us "even," although society allows a father to be topless in the presence of his daughter but strongly discourages his daughter to be topless in his presence. After carefully drawing her lengthy brown hair out of the way, I began with the shoulders and slowly worked downward. It took less than five minutes for Jo to fall asleep again, which was good. That meant that she could not see the bulge at the front of my sweatpants. Touching Jo so intimately, especially massaging her topless body for the first time, was quite arousing. She was my daughter, yet she was also a beautiful young woman who was selflessly allowing me this intimacy. She clearly felt comfortable enough with me to allow herself to be essentially vulnerable for me. There was little she could do to protect herself if I decided to do something untoward to her. I continued the massage as she slept, even though sleep was threatening to consume me as well. I paused long enough to turn off the lamp beside her bed, so that the only light in the bedroom came from the open laptop. Glancing at the laptop, I noticed the screensaver. It was a slide show of various girls and women from anime. Some of them were instantly recognizable to me: Sailor Moon and the Inner Senshi, Deunan, Melfina, Mimarin, Miyu, and Kei and Yuri. Many of them were unfamiliar to me, but all were incredibly beautiful. One of the pictures particularly captured my interest: someone in a schoolgirl uniform struggling against the lengthy vines which bound her against a thick tree trunk as several forest creatures watched her. I tried to imagine my Jo in that situation, and to my amazement, I could indeed imagine it - quite easily. Thinking of my daughter bound like that, struggling for freedom yet likely not truly wanting to escape, further strengthened my arousal. It was time to leave. I had to leave before I potentially did something one or both of us would regret later. The first light of Saturday morning penetrated my bedroom before I finally fell asleep with thoughts of a bound and struggling daughter still running rampant through my mind. ***** I awoke to the scent of hamburgers. I had slept until lunchtime. Jo teased me about that, but otherwise nothing seemed at all amiss. Once I was quickly dressed, we ate on the steps of the back porch. The final days of warmth were meant to be enjoyed outdoors, and this was part of our plan. "How about canoeing?" Jo suddenly asked. I had not thought about that for quite a while. "It's a bit late for us to get there now and have any decent time on the river." "Not now, next weekend. Looking at the syllabi for my courses, I'm not going to have much work to do next weekend because of the exams scheduled for Thursday and Friday. In fact, I could come home Friday afternoon, and we could drive out there as soon as you get home from the office. We could turn it into a camping weekend." And so we agreed to go camping, but I insisted that Jo be a good student and attend her classes Friday afternoon and that I would pick her up on campus. That meant that she needed to pack her camping clothes and gear and take them with her to campus the following day, and without complaint, she eagerly agreed. In bed that night, I realized that if this was to be like the other canoeing trips we had taken over the years, Jo would be wearing a swimsuit and shorts as we slowly descended the river. Given what I had been thinking about her in recent weeks, I truly looked forward to it, as was evidenced by the slight tenting of the covers. ***** Throughout the week, I kept monitoring the jo4daddy blog. She was definitely making more posts and receiving and responding to more comments, but everything was Friends-locked. Then Friday morning, as I was checking her blog before going to work, I saw a surprising post: We're going canoeing this weekend! He's picking me up late today and we'll be camping tonight and tomorrow night, with tomorrow spent on the river. I'm still debating whether I should buy some new swimwear or not, because even though I know he'll be handling the steering and then forced to look at my back whenever we're in the canoe, I want to feel his eyes all over me whenever we're not in the canoe. I want to be wet just from his eyes. I want my nipples to be hard points poking through the bikini to attract his attention. Most of all, I want him inside me. I want him to hold me down and fuck me until he cums inside me. And ideally, I want to do all this on the river - there's a particular island in the middle of the river which if I remember correctly has plenty of underbrush at the edges but a small clearing at its center, which would make a great place for him to undress me and use me. I just hope that I'll be able to keep quiet because the island isn't very large, and there could easily be quite a few canoes going by as he's fucking me. "Oh Jo..." I whispered to myself. I was both elated at this post and also disturbed: elated because I wanted to experience her body, and disturbed because, if jo4daddy was indeed my daughter, then we would both be irrevocably guilty of incest. For the first time, the "i" word entered into my thinking. I shuddered visibly, a prominent chill passing from my brain directly down my spine to settle at the small of my back. It was only the first time I had considered the "i" word, but I was already guilty of incestuous thoughts. As my eyes befell the public entry once again, I want him to hold me down and fuck me until he cums inside me jumped out at me. If jo4daddy was indeed my daughter, then she was also guilty of incestuous thoughts. Perhaps it was natural that such thoughts arose - after all, it had always been just the two of us, and we had always been extremely close. For the first time, I considered actually holding her down and fucking her. I had not fucked anyone since, arguably, the night before we learned that my wife was pregnant. While Claire and I did not engage in sex very often, when we did, it was usually quite fulfilling, and on that night in particular, the experience had been deeply felt with an intensity I doubt that either of us had anticipated as she bent over the bed in the guest bedroom - what was now our daughter's bedroom - and clawed at the covers while I used her hair for leverage as I fucked her in the wintry moonlight streaming through the window. ...but that had been with my wife. I was thinking about potentially having sex with my own daughter - and if she was indeed jo4daddy, then she was also thinking about having sex with me. There was no doubt about it: A fateful weekend was about to begin. jo4daddy Ch. 05 Jo was waiting for me on the front steps of her dorm when I arrived. We shared a tight hug, loaded her things into the back of the SUV, and headed toward the campground. It was just late enough in the camping season that there were few people there, and almost everyone who was using the campground that weekend was in an RV in a separate area. We chose a campsite at the western end of the tent camping field so that we would have some cover from the trees and still enjoy being awoken by the sun. As night fell, Jo and I sat on opposite sides of the small campfire. It was still warm enough to wear shorts and t-shirts, but there was definitely a slight chill in the air, and I began to wonder if canoeing the following day would be a good idea. But I figured that the water should still be warm enough, especially since we - ideally - would only have our feet in the water long enough to get into or out of the canoe near a riverbank. Occasionally, the laughter from a group across the field would softly reach our ears, but otherwise, all was quiet save for the faint rustle of the leaves and the soft sounds of the night creatures in the woods. Our conversation lapsed into a pleasant quiet as well, and while I was primarily watching the dance of the flames in the fire ring, I occasionally looked up to see my precious Jo watching me with a sweet smile curling her lips. Just when I was beginning to feel that something had to happen or be said, Jo slowly moved to her hands and knees and crawled around the fire toward me. It was a bit of a surprise, especially since the image she presented was of the girl in the "Cradle of Love" music video. But she did not tease me or attack me - instead, when she reached me, she turned over onto her back with her head in my lap, looking up at me with a tenderness I had not seen in anyone's eyes since moments before Claire had gone into labor. Instinctively, I reached down to caress her angelic face. Her eyes fluttered closed, but the smile remained. She sighed contentedly as I brushed her cheeks, her forehead, her hair. She tried to capture my fingertip as I traced the outline of her lips. She giggled softly as I gently pressed the tip of her nose. Nothing was said with words, but our intimacy spoke volumes. Our relationship was transforming, and this was clearly something we both wanted. The firelight and the moonlight combined to make this a particularly romantic moment, a time when our status as father and daughter did not matter. Even the questions concerning jo4daddy were lost to me. I continued to touch this special woman, and she brushed her cheek repeatedly against the bulge in my shorts. The gathering across the camping field dissipated as their fire burned itself down, and as our own firelight faded, our transforming love blossomed to warm us both against the slight chill in the night air. ***** The morning began not with the first rays of sunlight warming the tent, but with the shifting of the young woman beside me. We were each in our own sleeping bag, but hearing her turn over had awoken me. I tried to return to sleep, but all I could think about was her, so I finally gave up and quietly emerged from the tent, sitting at the fire ring, using a stick to slowly stir the cold ashes as I watched the first hint of daylight brush the eastern sky. Just before the sun broke the horizon, I heard a rustling behind me and knew that it was her. A moment later, she knelt behind me, wrapping her arms around my chest and resting her chin on my shoulder, and that was how we watched the dawning of a new day together. ***** We took breakfast with us to have as we descended the river. We were dressed to get wet if necessary: shorts and t-shirt for me, and beneath her shorts and sweatshirt, it was clear that Jo was wearing a bikini. I want my nipples to be hard points poking through the bikini to attract his attention. The morning air was a bit cooler than I would have anticipated, and as we walked down the dirt road toward the main office of the campground so we could get our ride to the starting point for our canoeing trip, I rubbed my bare arms to warm myself a little. Glancing at Jo, I was a bit envious and wished I had brought my jacket with me, but I knew that this chill would be short-lived, that the day would warm somewhat quickly. It did. By the time we arrived at the starting point and were taking our canoe off the trailer rack, the air felt noticeably warmer, and after another group took off from the rocky shore, Jo and I pushed off, taking a rather leisurely pace. We did not talk much, spending our time mostly admiring nature. But more and more, I was admiring her. And when Jo finally set her oar across her thighs and removed her sweatshirt, I was very much admiring her. After that, she set the oar into the canoe itself and carefully wriggled out of her shorts, wearing only her sandals and her rainbow bikini. It was shortly after that when I realized that we would soon be approaching the island mentioning in the jo4daddy blog. That was when I began keenly watching my daughter, her bare back obscured only by her lengthy hair and the lower drawstring of her bikini bra. I want to be wet just from his eyes. As we rounded a bend in the river, I saw the island ahead. "Let's stop there on the island for breakfast," I suggested. I thought I could hear her grin. We beached the canoe and Jo stepped out, turning toward me to pull the canoe more firmly aground as I stepped into the water and pushed. I discretely noticed that her nipples did indeed tent the cups of her bikini bra, and I smiled - more to myself than to her. The canoe safely beached, I grabbed the backpack with our food and water and followed the youngster through the underbrush, wincing as the branches and a thorn scraped harshly at my legs. A few moments later, however, we were at the clearing. Sitting in the grassy clearing, we ate breakfast and shared one of the canteens of water, then Jo leaned back in the grass, looking up through the canopy of leaves as the bright sky. I watched her curiously for a moment, noting the curves of her breasts, admiring how her swells rose and fell atop her chest. She turned her eyes to me, a sweet smile upon her lips. I reached toward her. For the first time since before her birth, I touched a breast. Her back arched, almost instinctively, pressing more of her right breast into my hand. I squeezed gently, and she whimpered in a most beautiful manner, her eyes starting to flutter closed as she looked at me with encouragement. Laying alongside her, I continued to touch her, moving my attention from her breast to her face, caressing her cheek as we gazed into each other's eyes. It was certainly not the first time I had ever looked into her eyes, but it was the first time to do so with such depth of meaning and understanding and, especially, desire. As I touched her and looked into her soul, her hands ran across my back and down my sides. Her touch sent shudders of joy through my entire being. The sunlight filtering through the leaves high above us and the sound of the twin flows of water on either side of the small island added a romantic element heightened by the chirping of the birds and the low flyover by a buzzing insect. My hand meandered down her neck, over a breast, down her stomach, and across to a hip. She rolled onto her side, wrapping her arms around me, and as of one mine, our eyes closed and our lips drew closer... For just a moment, there was a flash of nervousness, of guilt, of damnation. But in the next instant, it was gone, replaced by a blossoming love, an intimate and intricate connection of two souls, an intertwining of two bodies in the seclusion of Nature. "Daddy..." she breathed when our lips finally separated. I silenced her with another kiss as my hand moved from hip to chest. I did not need eyes to know that there was at least one nipple trying to poke through the thin cups of her bikini bra. Even if she was not jo4daddy, this special young woman at least was experiencing what jo4daddy desired. She pressed against the bulge in my shorts, encouraging my erection to further solidify against her. When our lips separated again, she clutched me close, her quickened breath warm against my neck as she rocked gently against the anatomy which had created her and which desired to inseminate her. Kisses and caresses soon gave way to undressing. As Jo held me tightly and pressed herself against me, my hand gravitated to the strings at her back, tugging gently and slowly, enjoying the press of her lips to my shoulder. She wanted this - she wanted me - and that made me want her, want this, even more. Once the strings at her back had been untied, my hand gravitated upward, working underneath her hair to the strings at the back of her neck. As I began to untie the upper strings, her hands moved up underneath my t-shirt, her hands warm against my skin. Moving a hand downward over my shorts, she pulled me even more firmly against her, my manhood unmistakable and unavoidable, and I would not be surprised if she could feel the pulsing within. The hand on my bare back moved upward, and I took the hint. Extricating myself from her grasp, I sat up and removed the t-shirt, and I could see how loose her bikini bra was without the strings tied behind her. I could not see her nipples, but the top was definitely not in a socially-acceptable position. ...just like she was not being intimate with a socially-acceptable person. Jo sat up as well, leaning forward enough in the process that the rainbow-print top fluttered to the grass between us. She made so move to cover herself, but she did blush just slightly, just enough to be extremely sexy. Our eyes met, filling the scant space between us with love and desire. For a moment, I thought about bending down and taking a nipple into my mouth, suckling from her like a newborn baby. But before I could act, she moved, dipping her head, a hand on my thigh and moving seductively upward... Boldly she touched me, strengthening my desire. Still her head descended until she was kissing my stomach as she stroked the prominent bulge, and I caressed her head, running my fingers through her hair, breathing deeply, inhaling the love emanating from her. And then her hand rose to the belt, her fingertips stroking the black leather in a manner which made me think of a painslut admiring that which would soon hurt her. jo4daddy had expressed interest in light whipping - presumably that could also be done with a belt, and once again I wondered if Jo and jo4daddy were actually the same person. She unbuckled the belt slowly, gazing up into my eyes as her hands worked with a singular purpose. She lifted up to briefly kiss my lips as her hands unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, then she turned her attention to my sandals before undressing me completely, rendering me naked in her presence for the first time on purpose. My tip was dripping. My length was throbbing. Her hands looked so obscenely small as she grasped my manhood and kneaded my testicles. My breath caught in my throat as she touched me, explored me. A few minutes later, as I heard voices approaching on the river, Jo ingested me, dipping her head and granting me access to her warm wet mouth, making my head spin in a very good way. I could still hear the birds overhead and the voices on the river, so if I made any sound at all as I was guided into my daughter's body, it was not loud enough to startle either animals or people. Gazing upon her, I could barely believe that of all people, it was her giving me such pleasure, her mouth taking me in, her hands touching me so erotically. She tried to take me into her throat, but she gagged, coughing as she released me from her mouth. Instantly, the fatherly instinct took over, whispering calming words, assuring her that she did not need to do that to make me happy, yet a few seconds later, she was trying it again and achieving the same result. While I had never been deepthroated and would have enjoyed such an experience, I recognized that this was not the time for it and I nudged her head away. Looking up at me with love, Jo sat up fully and nudged me to my back in the grass. Then she repositioned herself and again to me into her mouth. She did not try to deepthroat me again, and since we were camping for the weekend, she was not wearing any lipstick to smear upon my engorged length, but it was still an awe-inspiring sight to behold her sexual nature as the timing of her head and her hand finally aligned, a rhythm which my hips soon met as I thrust up into her mouth as her head and hand descended in tandem. I did not last very long. My first sexual experience with anyone since the discovery that her mother was pregnant overwhelmed me. I clenched my teeth, practically grinding them together as I repeatedly grunted softly, the voices on the river fading away as my love peaked inside this young woman's exquisite mouth. I awoke with Jo beside me, using a fingertip to draw random patterns upon my chest as she watched me. I was stunned that I had fallen asleep, yet even more stunned that she was still with me, still clearly in love with me. Briefly she kissed my lips, and there was a faint taste of something new, something unique, and I could only guess that I was tasting me upon her lips. "You're yummy," she confirmed, then laughed softly as I blushed at the most unexpected compliment. We remained like that for a while until I happened to glance at my watch. It was a little past Noon already, and we still had four miles of river to descend to return to our campsite. We had plenty of time to just remain there and relax. We had water and some additional food for a snack, although we had intended on getting lunch at one of the river stores located about every mile downstream. In short, we could stay there a while longer. It was strange in a way, yet also quite liberating, to stay in the grassy clearing, drinking and eating while I was fully naked and my daughter was quite topless. Yet I found that I was having a hard time thinking of her as my daughter. After all, one never expects to "feed" one's daughter in the manner I had done before falling asleep. Eventually, as we cuddled on the grass, I slid a hand down her body, between her breasts, over her stomach, and directly between her parted thighs. She was wet. The crotch of her bikini panty was definitely wet. The outline of her sex was noteworthy as I pressed my fingertips against her. The soft moan in my ear was the proof that she was willingly sharing herself, sharing her body and her soul, with me. I explored her. The crotch of her thin bikini panty was soon nudged aside so that I could explore this woman more directly. The way she held me, the gentle breaths on my neck and on my face, the sultry sound reaching my ears all enticed me, encouraged me to continue, to become more bold. ...to finally sit up and work the final garment down her long legs and position myself between her thighs, for I was ready, my desire primed, my love boundless. Neither of us made a sound as I pressed into her slowly. I saw her eyes roll to the back of her head before my own eyes did the same, and that was the last thing I could recall seeing for quite some time. I definitely remember the enthralling feel of her warm wet body around me, marveling at how she yielded to my respectful penetrations. My skin still remembers how her hands roamed my back and my sides, her fingernails scratching inadvertently. My mind still wonders how we rolled so she was on top of me without losing the intimate connection. That was when I recall looking up at her as she rocked back and forth, her hair and her breasts swaying from her selfless motions. I kept shifting within her, enjoying the wonder of her body, the proud recipient of the pleasures she could give. But soon the back-and-forth motion was not enough for her, for either of us, and she leaned forward, her hands braced on my shoulders as I helped her rise and fall upon me, her curtain of hair surrounding my face so that my focus was intently on her eyes, on the love in her soul, on her single coherent utterance: "Daddy!" Slamming down on me again, stretched to her limit, Jo shared her pleasure with me, wailing softly as her body tried to pull me even deeper inside her. We did disconnect as I rolled her to her back, but then I was inside her again, her legs bent back with her knees practically balanced on her breasts, exposing her for plundering. Between heavy breaths, she begged: "Fuck me!" I did, giving in to what we both wanted, to what jo4daddy had desired. Her feet bobbed over my shoulders as I kept plunging into her depths, kept trying to touch her soul even for the briefest of moments. She kept pulling at me, trying to help me reach my goal, trying to consume me in the most wonderful way possible. My release was strong, powerful enough to make her cry out as my passion filled her. I kept slamming into her, forcing my passion from her body, growling as my primal need was finally met with a most willing and desiring prey. Only hunger finally forced us to extricate ourselves from our tangle on the grass. Only the expectations of society forced us to finally dress again before leaving the clearing and returning to the canoe. Only the fact that there were others in the tent camping field that night prevented us from reenacting the wonderful joining of the early afternoon. ***** I helped Jo take her things up to her dorm room. Her roommate was fortunately gone at the time, which gave us a few minutes together in solitude, a few minutes to hold each other close and share a few kisses which underscored the transformation of our lengthy relationship. "I'll be home next weekend, Daddy." It was not a statement. It was a promise, and come hell or high water, Jo always kept her promises. ***** When I returned from the office Tuesday evening, I set up the laptop in the den and checked my personal e-mail. I was a little surprised to find an e-mail from the blog site: jo4daddy has added you to their Friends list! There was also another e-mail from the blog site, with an unexpected subject line: jo4daddy sent you a message I followed the link in the second e-mail first, finding a private message to me from jo4daddy on the blog site: Yes, I am jo4daddy. I'm sure you've been wondering. I'm sure you've been reading my blog, what you've been able to see thus far. I have added you as a Friend and added you to all my filters, so you can truly know me. I've learned a lot more than just what the professors can teach me, and in learning about those other things, I've learned more about myself and about what I like and need, and especially about who I want close to me and inside me in my life. I love you Daddy, and after this weekend I know that you love me. Hopefully reading through jo4daddy won't scare you away, but instead help to bring us even closer together. I love you Daddy - more than ever before. - Jo The mystery answered, I leaned back in the chair, smiling and crying. jo4daddy Ch. 06 Making love to my daughter on the small island in the river was definitely the highlight of our weekend canoeing trip, and it also marked the beginning of a more profound relationship. While Jo and I had always been close – which is almost certainly inherent between a parent and a child when the child never knew the other parent – our relationship had transformed into an onion due to its many layers. We were father and daughter, of course, but we had also become lovers, and there seemed to be the potential for more as well. For some time, I had been following the posts of jo4daddy on my favorite blog site, a fairly popular site which I happened to use as well. I had only seen a very few posts which Jo had either forgotten to Friends-lock or had purposely left unlocked for me to discover, but just those few posts had allowed me a view of my daughter which I had not considered, and that discovery had begun the process which ultimately resulted in the weekend canoeing trip and the lovemaking on the island in the river. Only after that weekend had ended did my precious Jo reveal to me that she was indeed jo4daddy on the blog site, and things finally began to make much more sense while also answering the mystery which had practically consumed my mind for quite some time. That also began to fill in the details for me, allowing me to truly see inside her. Perhaps Jo had changed, or perhaps she had long been this way but I simply had not recognized it across the years. She was very much a sexual woman with some rather kinky fantasies. Many evenings and also some mornings before heading to the office, I would comb through the many entries in her blog – usually at least one entry per day – and be amazed at writings of what she enjoyed and what she wanted to try. One older entry in particular captivated me one evening: My close friend G tells me fairly often about her relationship with N. I'm envious in a way. For over a year I've been fantasizing about being a sexual slave, especially about being bound and taken with no choice in the matter. N will often do that to G, sometimes by playing out some of her rape fantasies and sometimes by using various forms of bondage and taking his pleasure from her, leaving her gasping and frustrated afterward because she hasn't been permitted to cum but she's bound in such a way that she can't touch herself to give herself the relief she needs. Sometimes he'll also hurt her, although there are certain pains which she just cannot enjoy although she somehow endures them because she knows that N loves doing those things to her and enjoys having her suffer for him. Yet they're not truly Master and slave, although she's admitted to me that she wishes it could be more formalized. She wants to be officially a slave to him. I want that for her, but I also want the same for myself. I think I know someone who would probably be a good Master for me, but I just don't know how to broach that subject with him. In fact I sometimes wonder if he realizes that I'm a woman now. Given the date of the post, I had not truly realized that she was a woman then, even though she was then a sophomore in college. I certainly knew it now, for over the past month or so, she had shown me her womanly body more than a few times, and she had allowed me inside her and reacted very much in a womanly manner. Although I read many of her other older posts, that one in particular stayed at the forefront of my mind for several days, even inhabiting my dreams at night as I imagined her as "G" and myself as "N." But it did make me wonder, however, if I truly could be a Master to my own daughter. Thinking about my own experiences as a Dominant when I was in college, I tried to envision how I might act and react to having my precious Jo bound to the bedposts, naked and vulnerable, begging for me to fuck her as I contented myself with simply eating her and squeezing her breasts. I thought of how it might feel to have her kneeling in front of me, tears streaming down her cheeks, her makeup running as I held her head in place and took my pleasure from her gagging throat. The more I thought of those situations, the more I realized that I could probably do the first scenario quite easily – but the second scenario deeply concerned me, even though I knew from the experience on the river island that she wanted to be able to deepthroat me, but the possibility of making her cry was what was holding me back. The many jo4daddy posts gave me a lot to think about, and with Thanksgiving forthcoming, with my daughter and lover sharing four full days with me, I knew that the long holiday weekend would be the prime opportunity to experiment with bondage with her and begin to explore her kinky side – and once again get in touch with my almost-forgotten kinky past – early enough in the relationship that, if things did not go well at all, at least we would not have invested too much time in something which would fail. ***** In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, I spent plenty of time online perusing various adult Web sites and generally trying to find articles, video clips, pictures, and anything else to help me "relearn" kink and acquire a few things. I suppose it was not so much a "relearning" process as it was a "coming up to date" process. Fortunately, the Internet made it far easier than it was when I was in college to obtain good information about anything kinky and especially about being safe during kinky activities. The time online also showed me some kinky activities I had never considered, such as filling a bathtub and holding a woman underwater so she could not breathe. The time was also spent with the few bondage supplies I had kept from my college days and acquiring others. Thank goodness for the Internet, as that allowed me plenty of options from across the country (and from around the world, if I had wanted to order something from overseas) and have it delivered by mail. There was no embarrassment with going to a brick-and-mortar adult store and possibly being recognized by someone I knew, and no need to travel well outside the city to an adult store where I was certain to not be recognized by anyone I knew. As I spread out the old lengths of chain and the fake-fur tethered cuffs and the faux-leather collar, I thought of Betsy and the evenings we had spent in college with her bound to my tiny bed, and tried to envision my own daughter in Betsy's place. The tethered cuffs needed to be replaced and the collar had not borne the passage of time particularly well, so I sought replacements online and placed the order. Chain is chain, so I kept those, although I did buy replacement snap-hooks for the ends of the chains. One Web site had a nice black blindfold made of leather and lined with fake fur, with a "cutout" for the bridge of the submissive's nose; I ordered that as well. As the various items arrived in the mail, I began to feel more confident about using them on Jo, about wrapping her naked body with the chains and ensuring one of the chains split her labia and remained pressed firmly against her clitoris, about keeping her blindfolded so I could surprise her with my every act, about having my young lover collared and leashed to lead her around the house like a beloved pet being taken out for an afternoon walk. I had read so many of her jo4daddy posts that I could not decide which of her bondage-related fantasies to bring to reality for Jo. It took a while, but eventually, I finally decided: One of my fantasies is for the older man to collar me as soon as I walk into his home, then add a leash and order me to my knees to suck him, not necessarily until he cums down my throat or all over my face, but to at least suck him while he towers over me, making me feel small, making me understand that I exist to serve him and ensure his pleasure over mine. Then in the fantasy he leads me through the house, making me crawl behind him like a dog, and eventually leads me to his bedroom where there are already leather cuffs ready for me. After he cuffs me, he secures me somehow to the bed (hopefully to the bedposts, as that really appeals to me), then uses a pair of scissors or even a knife to cut away my clothes until I'm completely naked and probably quite wet, and then finally he makes use of me, fucking me until he cums inside me, and not even caring if I can cum or not. Then he leaves me there, alone on the bed, bound and vulnerable with his cum leaking from me, leaving me alone with my thoughts like a discarded whore left in her bonds while the john walks away, using her and discarding her. Now I need to stop writing this post and furiously masturbate before my roommate returns from her biology class. She probably wouldn't appreciate seeing me kneeling on the floor with my hand down the front of my jeans. I gave that particular fantasy a lot of thought. There were several variations of that fantasy which filled my mind, and as Thanksgiving approached, they all vied for my attention, eager for me to make some small changes to make her fantasy our combined reality. Ultimately, I decided, making the changes to personalize her fantasy – which had also become my fantasy – so that it was unique to us. In those final hours before my daughter arrived for the four-day weekend, I kept going around the house, ensuring that everything was just right, that everything was in place, so that her/our fantasy would be even better than envisioned. ***** Only when Jo closed the front door did she finally see me. She hugged me tightly and we shared a kiss before she realized that my hands were still behind my back. "Turn around, take off your shoes and your backpack, and hold up your hair," I instructed her as authoritatively yet as lovingly as I possibly could. With a smile spreading across her lips, she complied, and only then did I add the leather collar to her dainty neck, closing the buckle and sealing the collar to her with the small padlock I had bought earlier that day at the hardware store down the street. "Does this mean that I should call you 'Master' now?" Jo asked, the eagerness evident in her voice. "Maybe," I mused, "maybe not. We'll see where all this leads. Fair enough?" "Fair enough," she agreed, allowing her lengthy hair to fall back into place. "Good. Then turn around and kneel." She complied with a smile still on her face. She beamed, her eyes sparkling with love and the realization that something she had envisioned for a long time was finally becoming reality. "Between now and sunrise," I informed her, "you need to first secure my permission before you have an orgasm. Is that understood?" "Yes, but...?" "'But' what?" I challenged her as I unzipped my slacks. My daughter's eyes dropped to the action of my hands for a moment before returning to my face. "What if I don't have your permission first, Master?" I simply raised an eyebrow. She got the message. In very little time, she was sucking me. She was actually quite enthusiastic about it, taking to her commanded task with the excitement of a little kid more than ready to open the presents on Christmas morning. With her mouth and her hands, she had me throbbing and dripping. My hands in her hair guided her head, her hands and her tongue providing the rest of what I needed... I withdrew from my daughter's willing mouth, and as she breathed fast and hard, I gave her a facial for the first time. The streaks of white extended into her hair, and even as she tried to regain her breath, her face beamed proudly. That was when I realized that, although I had claimed her more than a few times, although I had several times filled her body with my seed, this was the first time that I had truly marked her as mine. Jo was mine. ...not necessarily until he cums down my throat or all over my face, but to at least suck him while he towers over me, making me feel small, making me understand that I exist to serve him and ensure his pleasure over mine. I hoped that she felt small. I hoped that she realized that she was to put my pleasure before hers – at least until sunrise. Once I was socially acceptable again, I turned to the bookcase and picked up the short chain I intended to use as a leash. Once Jo stood on command, I clipped one end of the chain to the D-ring at the front of her collar and admired her white-streaked face once more, temporarily getting lost in her eyes, peering into her soul and finding that she was overflowing with love and with joy. "Down on your hands and knees," I commanded, and she obeyed, her streaked hair descending toward the floor. I noticed just how well her black jeans were practically molded to her, and that vision made me think for a moment of a spanking video I had seen online earlier in the week, and for just a moment I envisioned my daughter bent across my thighs as my hand hurt her again and again and again... But there would hopefully be a time for that later. I took the lead, and she obediently followed, my seed congealing on her face and in her hair as she crawled behind me up the stairs to my bedroom. ...to what was appropriately called the Master bedroom. I stopped next to the bed, and Jo stopped beside me, leaning back on her heels. "Good girl," I praised her as if she was a dog which had just heeled on cue. She looked up at me with smiling lips and smiling eyes, the drying white on her face and in her hair obscenely imprinting itself on my memory. Once I could see past the drying streaks, I took a greater assessment of my daughter. Jo was still wearing her jacket, open to reveal the close-fitting blue turtleneck. A silver necklace swung nicely beneath her, the crescent moon pendant reminding me of her longtime love for Sailor Moon and providing an interesting contrast between her innocent interest and her far-from-innocent appearance. "Climb up on the bed and lay on your back." Obediently, she complied. ...and eventually leads me to his bedroom where there are already leather cuffs ready for me. As I thought of the words from the jo4daddy blog post, she discovered the black leather cuffs on the bed, one strategically placed near each bedpost. Her gasp of delight/surprise was soft but quite prevalent to my ears, and despite the semi-strict role I was trying to portray for her, I felt a smile forming. Her enthusiasm and her surprise touched me, and the fact that it was my own daughter who was so enthusiastic and so pleasantly surprised tugged at my fatherly heart, even though I was involved with her in a very unfamilial manner. Without needing to be so instructed, Jo positioned herself on the bed with her limbs stretched toward each bedpost. It was a position which somehow made her breasts even more noticeable – they were not large by any means, but definitely enough to squeeze, to seize roughly in my hands and use as leverage when taking her from behind. ...as I had already done a few times. In my mind's eye, I saw targets emblazoned on each of her twin swells. Thinking of a BDSM video clip I had recently seen online, I recalled a woman – topless – restrained in a similar manner on a bed, while her Mistress removed the belt the bound woman was wearing and then used it to beat the bound woman's breasts. Suddenly, even though that was not part of the fantasy in the post I had been using for guidance, even though that had not been part of my planning, I longed to batter my daughter's chest. I wanted her to grunt and groan like the bound woman in the video clip I had seen. I desired to watch her struggle in her bondage, to pull uselessly in a futile attempt to escape the belt, just like I had seen online. I needed to see her in pain. First, however, I needed to restrain her. While I know I took my time moving around the bed and encasing her wrists and her ankles in the leather cuffs and then using the old rope from the basement to secure each cuff to the nearest bedpost, I do not truly remember actually doing any of that. I only recall that at one moment, I was standing beside the bed, admiring my precious Jo's breasts as they were highlighted by the tautness of her turtleneck, and then in the next moment standing on the other side of the bed with my own leather belt doubled over in my hand... She was already squirming in her bondage. It was clear what was about to happen: I was going to hit her with my belt. I could see in her eyes that she wanted this, and it brought to mind yet another jo4daddy post: I enjoy playing with my tits. They're not particularly large, but that may be good, as I've heard and read various accounts of smaller breasts being more sensitive. I'm certainly far from needing a training bra, but I do wish my breasts were more sensitive. Still, it feels good to play with them, and much better when someone else plays with them. I want that older guy to eventually play with them; it would be so naughty and so delicious at the same time to have him playing with my tits, squeezing and pinching, perhaps biting. I wonder if he'd be willing to hurt me, and especially willing to hurt my breasts, and I wonder just how much pain I could handle from him. He's hurt me in the past, although definitely not in a sexual way, yet on a deep level which I didn't understand at the time, I liked it for some strange reason, a reason which to me is now sexual. But I wonder if he could hurt me beyond just an occasional (and needed and deserved) spanking. I want him to look at my breasts and think of ways to make them hurt. I lashed out with the belt. There was unfortunately no sound – at least, not from her mouth. The impact of the belt across her chest was sharp and loud, even with a turtleneck and a bra nullifying a bit of the blow to her breasts. The bed protested briefly as she lurched in her bonds, the little slack in the ropes suddenly eliminated and holding her in place. Her eyes and her mouth were wide open as the first searing pain permeated her chest. Seconds passed, and she finally began to sag back into the bed. She was breathing again, her mind finally able to wrap itself around the agonizing stripe across her chest. Her eyes closed... "Daddy..." she moaned, and for a moment, I was no longer a potential Master. I was a father heartbroken at seeing his precious young daughter in a state of distress. "Daddy..." she moaned. "Master..." she quickly corrected herself, even though we were definitely not at the Master/slave stage of things yet, and likely would not reach that stage for quite some time. I took her correction as permission to continue, so I lashed out at my young daughter's chest again, but not with nearly as much force the second time. The impact was not quite as loud, and her reflexive reaction was not nearly as impressive, but she did grunt aloud, pulling again at her bonds. Again I waited, and when she finally partially opened her eyes and turned to look directly at me, I knew that the pain I was giving her had touched something deep within her. "Please..." she requested, her voice soft and slightly wavering from the pain, yet with a hint of a little-schoolgirl whine. For a few minutes, I gave her more. It had always been difficult at best to resist giving my precious Jo something she truly wanted, and this was no different. This time, I was not giving her a doll or a car, nor was I giving her spending money or an extra scoop of ice cream. Instead, this time, I was giving her something far more significant, something far more intimate: I was giving this sweet young woman loving pain. For those few minutes, I hurt her – I purposely hurt my daughter with my love. The belt was the conduit, the accelerant to increase the pain I could grant her. Perhaps it was fitting that I was focusing the pain on her chest, beating her as close to her heart as I possibly could.