Family Enslaved
Copyright 2007-2011 Rachael Ross all rights reserved [email protected] Adults Only
This fictional account is intended for entertainment purposes only and any resemblance to persons or places is purely coincidental so far as they know.
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Family Enslaved
by rache
Chapter One - Slave Daddy
Looking through the web browser's history, I just had to smile. "Oh! You've been a very bad Daddy, haven't you?"
I sat at my father's desk, in his study, and I hadn't meant to snoop. I intended to check my email, but I'd happened upon the favorites list as I waited for the web page to load. And there it was, "Bound for Glory" neatly bookmarked, and so I'd instantly become more than a little interested in what my dad liked to do with his spare time.
It's an odd feeling, seeing nude pictures of myself on my own father's computer.
He hadn't mentioned anything, of course. Why would he? This was a great secret, first mine alone and now apparently ours. Daddy wouldn't have told anyone, certainly not my mom or my brother. How would a man break the news to his wife that their 24-year-old daughter worked as a professional Dominatrix?
And that really was the least of it.
My bisexuality was obvious. I was also a prostitute, if you wanted to get technical about it. A porn actress? That too, at least in the sense that I had no qualms about appearing in videos available through the website. I'd graduated from college and found that I could make better money indulging my personal desires than I could working in my so-called chosen profession of journalism. I was extremely attractive, very outgoing, and a total bitch…The perfect combination for punishing bad boys and girls at three hundred dollars an hour.
Bad Daddies too.
I'd formed a production company called Bound for Glory. It was web based and popular, and with three other girls I'd met in college, we did very well for ourselves. Well enough with photo-sets and downloadable movies that I probably could have given up the scenes, the actual prostitution, but in truth I enjoyed that aspect of it more than anything else. That had always been the best part for me, being worshipped by strangers, being paid to abuse men and women and exercise power over them. Such pleasures were intoxicating and addictive, and I'd turned out to be very good at it. A natural born Domme, as they say.
My dad seemed to like the lesbian scenes the most, as he had all of the videos I'd done with Katrina. She was my personal submissive and one of the girls I'd formed BFG with. We'd roomed together in college and gotten along very well, so well that I'd collared her in the traditional sense. Katrina was very much like my spouse, if you wanted to imagine our relationship in such vanilla terms, and we'd done a great many videos and photosets together for download, as well as our regularly scheduled live shows via webcam.
I'd had thoughts of bringing the girl with me on my trip home, to 'come out' with my family and seek their approval. That I hadn't was only due to Katrina's reluctance, not my own, and while I might have demanded it of her to join me, I was content to wait. I'd taken Katrina unwilling into many things that she'd ultimately learned to enjoy, but this would not be one of them. My disappointment was tempered by the trust so vital to our relationship. It would happen soon enough.
My father at least knew part of it anyway. He'd seen me, obviously, not only playing the BDSM games for profit, but having sex with Katrina and others, men and women who modeled for our website. We had a semi-open relationship, Katrina and I, which most simply meant that I enjoyed sex with whomever I desired, but she served only me. She liked that, we both did, and it increased my own pleasure when Katrina watched me with someone else.
I'd hidden it well, I thought, but of course once you're on the internet, you're everywhere and my father hadn't necessarily been looking only for me. One look at his not-so-well hidden computer files told me how long he'd been collecting BDSM stories and photos. He'd found me only because of his fetish, I thought, and my only real question was whether he was Dominant or submissive. That wasn't too hard to figure out though, not with all the recently opened files and web sites dedicated to FemDom on his computer.
So, in light of this discovery, I did what any good Dominatrix would do…I emailed him. I gave my father very explicit instructions. There could be no mistaking what I wanted or what I expected of him. It was a test, I suppose, to see how far my dad would be willing to go; to find the extent of his perversions…and mine. I've always enjoyed testing the limits, pushing my own boundaries and those of others in search of a greater truth. A clarity of purpose, you might say. A reason for being.
I'd never considered incest before, however, and my father had certainly never abused me. My need to dominate others hadn't grown from anything like that, it was just me, and any psychological analysis would have been wasted trying to determine why. I'd been born dominant. This would be something new for me, and perhaps for him as well, but I had no crystal ball into the man's heart. He could have fantasized about me for years and I suddenly found myself hoping he had.
Wouldn't that be something? I smiled to myself. The idea that my own parent had lusted after me secretly, and hidden it well enough that I'd never suspected. It gave me a warmth deep in my stomach. It didn't occur to me that such desires might be wrong; I wasn't wired that way. Sexually, I'd experienced very little that hadn't pleased me in one form or another and incest would hardly prove the exception.
My nipples had grown hard and my clit ached with the anticipation of learning my father's secrets. I turned off his computer confident that I would have my answers soon enough. It wasn't in my nature to do anything else.
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"So, what is it you do in Las Vegas now, Susan?" Mom asked me.
We were sitting at the dinner table, my parents and I, along with my brother, James, and his recently impregnated wife. Cheryl wasn't showing yet, but she had that glow and I was happy for the woman. Happy for both of them; we were a very close family and this was our first reunion in over two years.
"I'm a partner in a production company." I glanced at Mom and then looked at my dad openly, just to see his reaction. But he hid his thoughts well and returned my gaze with a friendly smile.
"Doing what?" Cheryl wondered.
"Part of the entertainment industry," I told her, as if that explained anything. "We're small, but growing."
"Entertainment?" Mom nodded. "Oh, that's nice."
She was a young forty-something and still very attractive, even after raising two kids. A good woman too, very practical with boundless common sense. She'd been my role model growing up, naturally, and all of my confidence came from her.
"Is that like movies or something?" Jim asked. He was my younger brother, all of 22 and just out of college. He worked as an assistant station manager for one of the local radio stations.
"Yeah, movies mostly, some personalized services for clients who can afford it," I explained. "We're rather specialized, oriented towards smaller, more exclusive markets."
"Is there money in that?" Dad asked, seemingly quite serious.
"Pretty good, yeah." I grinned at him. "We do all right."
"It has to be better than working in radio," my brother said.
"Well, when you think about your IPO let me take a look at your books," Dad suggested. "It's a big step."
"You can look at anything you want, Daddy," I replied with a bit of tongue. It was a terrible tease, but I couldn't resist. "You know where to find me."
"I guess I do," he grunted, but his eyes betrayed nothing and I began to understand how he'd hid his passion for me, assuming he had any. I could detect nothing out of the ordinary in him.
"Maybe we'll come down there sometime and visit you," Mom mused aloud. "You can show us what it is you do, Susan."
"Uh..." I had to giggle at that, a small one as I nodded in agreement.
"Say, this roast is really good tonight," Dad said, changing the subject without batting an eye. It was exactly the sort of thing he'd say and seemed out of place not at all. I had to admire his skill at deflecting the attention away from my business activities.
"It is good, isn't it?" Mom smiled modestly, as if our wonderful dinner had nothing to do with her enviable cooking skills. "I found it down at that new supermarket…"
"The Bartlett's?" Cheryl leaned forward. "I do all my shopping there now."
While the two women compared notes, their husbands engaged themselves with talk about the baseball season. I sat there smiling between the two conversations and eating my dinner slowly. It felt good being home again, and very nice sitting across from my father, who acted for all the world like he had no idea who or what I really was.
That's what amazed me most, I suppose. And I imagine he may have thought the same about me, since I'd spoken vaguely, but without hesitation about my job. I hadn't lied about it either, as he well knew, I'd just kept it simple and that had been enough.
Cheryl and I helped Mom clean up after dinner and I smiled at Dad as I picked up his plate.
"You might want to check your email, Daddy," I told him. "I noticed you had a new mail thing when I was checking mine."
"I do?" He gave a soft grunt of puzzlement. "I didn't even know I had a new mail thing."
Jim chuckled at that and I just shrugged. "Well, maybe it was something else. Are you done with your water?"
"Yeah, honey. Thank you." He smiled at me and gave my brother a quizzical look. "I guess I'll check my email."
I kissed his cheek, wondering what he'd think when he saw my note.
My dad was a good looking man, as we all were in a wholesome, Americana sort of way. Tall and lean, he kept himself in shape, which wasn't easy for an investment banker. He spent his days behind a desk, talking on the phone, but he still found time for tennis and golf on the weekends, and that was enough to keep him healthy. I'd inherited his black hair and blue eyes, while Mom and Jim were more brown in both respects. And we were tall, all of us, my dad and brother over six feet, Mom and me just a few inches shy of that.
After dinner we sat in the living room watching old videos, home movies of my brother and me as children. We laughed and smiled, sipped our wine and generally enjoyed a pleasant evening of bonding before Jim took his wife home. I gave them hugs and kisses, pressing my hand to Cheryl's soft tummy, imagining that I might feel my niece or nephew growing inside her, but it was too soon for that.
If my father had looked at his email, and I was sure he had, the only sign of it was a bit of distraction, occasional glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking. It had proven a fun game and I quite enjoyed myself as I'd made it a point to sit close to him on the sofa, between him and my mother. For the most part everything seemed perfectly normal and if I hadn't known better it would have been hard to pick up on my father's reaction.
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And just before ten we retired for the evening, or at least part of it. My father and I had an appointment at midnight, if he was willing to keep it.
There were some butterflies, I'll admit. I felt nervous as I prepared myself with what little I had to work with. Obviously I hadn't brought much with me in the way of fetish gear, clothing or toys, but those things are just tools and not essential by any means. The reality of BDSM resides in our hearts and minds, not in anything external, and if my dad didn't have a true understanding of that yet, I'd be more than happy to teach him.
I made my face up carefully, sitting at my vanity in what was still my bedroom. I'd moved out six years before, but Mom kept it clean and neat and just the way I'd left it. That room would always be mine and there was no place else in the world I felt more safe or comfortable.
After my bath, I brushed my long hair and pinned it up, pulling it from my forehead and into a chignon above my neck. I darkened my eyes, plucked my eyebrows and painted my lips crimson. I looked very beautiful in that simple way, and imposing to most people who didn't know me except by appearance. I'd long since learned to appreciate the advantages my good looks gave me and suffered no false modesty in that regard. Still, I wondered how attractive my father would find me; I had no wish to seem overly familiar to his sensibilities.
My costume would have to be simple in any event. A black lace bra with demi-cups left my tawny nipples exposed. They'd always been lightly colored, too light for my taste, and so I rouged them with a combination of lipstick and blush. It was provocative, I thought, and very pleasing to have ruby nipples perched stiffly upon my pale breasts. I wore matching panties, rich with lace and French cut high around my hips. They were black and sheer, and clearly exposed my freshly shaven sex. On my feet I wore patent leather slings with two inch heels and closed toes, wishing I'd brought just one decent pair of boots with me.
My appearance was hardly dramatic, true, but it would work well enough for our improvised purposes, I thought. And my body, barely contained now, would be a costume all its own. My skin was light and smooth, without blemish or scar, and my muscles were defined without being vulgar. It was a good body and I'd been lucky with my genes, and with my work ethic as I did enjoy taking care of myself. I was worthy of worship in that body, as so many people had eagerly demonstrated over the past few years, and I felt no shame in exposing it. Even to my father.
I arrived in his study early, having chosen that room because it was remote from the rest of the house. My mother would be sleeping anyway, and the room was large and comfortable enough that it would suit us well. I stood at the window, in the shadows with only a single table lamp illuminating the desk. I had my back to the open door while I waited patiently, trying to dismiss the very real possibility that he might not show. I would forgive him, of course, but my father had never disappointed me. I almost wondered what that would feel like.
"Ahem…" He cleared his throat and I turned around, slowly and deliberately, holding my breath.
This was the moment of truth and it filled me with nervous energy.
My father stood there in his bathrobe, just inside the study, and he narrowed his eyes, picking me out of the gloom in which I stood.
"Susan?" he asked, tentatively.
"Close the door," I told him, waiting while he did so. "Lock it."
"Lock it?" He rubbed his jaw, but did as I told him, pushing the button in on the doorknob with a loud click. The house had fallen unusually quiet, even for this late hour.
"Take off your bathrobe, and those slippers," I commanded, keeping my voice low. "I want you undressed completely."
"Uh…I don't think…"
"Now!" I said sharply, stepping forward so that he could see me clearly. I was not smiling and he swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as he took in my body, my underwear and shoes.
"Alright." He nodded and began to loosen his bathrobe.
"You will call me Mistress while we are in this room." I stared at him. "Do you understand that, slave?"
My father gave me a curious look, more shocked than merely surprised, I thought, but I honestly hadn't known what to expect. He would either play along, or he would refuse; it wasn't up to me
"Yes, Mistress," he agreed after several seconds, shrugging his bathrobe off his broad shoulders.
He stood naked a moment later, completely. His cock was soft and average sized. He had some fat on his hips, but not much. My dad's body was firm and I enjoyed seeing him like that. He was smooth as well, with very little body hair. It was the first time I could recall seeing him that way, although as a child, as a toddler, I'd undoubtedly been around him while he was undressed. Never as an adolescent though, as a teenage girl growing up, he'd always remained cautious where his modesty was concerned.
I walked closer while my father remained motionless. He watched me, but only for a few seconds at a time, and then he would close his eyes. He felt embarrassed by his nakedness, by my own appearance as well, and perhaps by the circumstances in which we found ourselves so intimately joined. I'd found out his secret and he might have dreamt of this moment, or maybe not. The past should have mattered very little to either of us; we are all creatures of the here and now.
"What are you doing?" he finally asked, breaking the long silence I'd imposed.
"Mistress?" I gently prompted him, standing behind my father now.
"Uh, what are we doing, Mistress?" he repeated, but changing the question to include himself. I took that as a promising sign.
"We're going to play a little game, slave." I smiled behind his back. "A little father-daughter bonding game. Does that sound like fun?"
"Susan, I don't think…"
SLAP!!
I spanked his ass with my palm, sharp enough that he jerked and quickly turned his head to stare at me.
"Play with your cock," I told him, rubbing my father's firm buttock where I'd slapped him. "Don't speak. In my presence your penis will be hard, always. If it goes soft, or if you cum without permission, I'll punish it severely."
My father coughed lightly and reached for his cock, the same one that had put me in my mother's womb some 25 years before. He stroked it for me, doing just as I'd instructed while I moved around him, watching him flush with humiliation even as his penis grew long and thick.
"You like this, don't you, Daddy?" I whispered, teasing him. "You like looking at me, don't you?"
I waited patiently the several heartbeats it took before he slowly nodded his head.
"Yes, Mistress."
"How long have you wanted me, hmmm?" I dragged my fingernails across his shoulder.
"I don't…"
SLAP!!
I spanked him again, in the same place and hard enough that it stung my hand, leaving a red palm print on his white skin.
"Answer the question, slave," I commanded. "How long have you wanted to see me like this? Open your eyes!"
I stepped in front of him, posing with my red nipples jutting proudly from my breasts. My clitoris had grown excited, thrumming stiff and pronounced beneath my lace panties. Wherever the man looked he could see my obvious arousal.
"Since you were small…Mistress," my dad answered, breathing heavily now. He only squeezed his prick, not stroking himself at all lest he cum.
"How small, Daddy?" I licked my lips, staring into his eyes. "How old was I when you first thought about fucking me?"
"Uh…" he swallowed thickly, "…fourteen…or fifteen…maybe…Mistress."
"Oh, you're a bad Daddy aren't you, slave?" I chuckled and he nodded. "What's that? I can't hear you."
"Y-Yes, Mistress."
"Yes what?" I tilted my head.
"Yes, I'm a bad daddy." He closed his eyes again and I slapped his cock so that it swung violently.
He drew a sharp breath, but I'd merely surprised him. I had no intention of hurting my father. In actuality, I rarely hurt anyone. The mere threat of pain was generally much more effective for new submissives. I would need to test him though, to find his tolerance if only for an impromptu yardstick. This was the subtle art of negotiation and I would be clever and cautious, and my father would enjoy it. That was my secret promise to him, the one he didn't need to hear from my lips.
"Keep your eyes open when you speak to me."
"Yes, Mistress," he agreed, moving his hands to cover his penis.
SLAP!
I spanked him again, as hard as I had the last time, and he winced.
"Are you ashamed of your cock?"
"N-No, Mistress."
"Then why are you trying to hide it from me, slave?" I chuckled. "Do you think I haven't seen one before?"
"I...No, Mistress." My dad moved his hands away from his cock. It was dark now, straining with excitement and I wasn't doing anything he didn't want me to.
"I think I should punish you." I put a finger to my lips. "Since this is our first time, I'll give a choice. Should I punish your cock, Slave-Daddy?"
"N-No, Mistress."
"Shhh…I'm not done yet," I smiled at him. "If you interrupt me again I'll have to make the choice myself."
My father nodded slowly, blinking at me because he did so dearly want to close his eyes. This was punishment already, being naked in front of me, confessing his fantasies while I watched him play with his cock. But it was a pleasure too and we both knew it.
"Now, shall I punish your cock…or your balls, Slave-Daddy?" I asked him, slapping lightly at his erection, his manhood jutting from the nest of dark pubic hair around it.
"Punish my…" He shook his head for a second, not wanting to choose.
"Should I punish both?" I smiled at him.
"N-No…My balls, Mistress," he said quickly. "Punish my balls."
"Mmmm…" I nodded and walked behind him once more. "Do you have naughty balls, Slave-Daddy?"
I reached down, pushing his thighs apart with my hand so I could grasp his heavy testes in their soft wrinkled sack. I gave them a little squeeze, not too hard, but enough to put my father on his toes.
"Yessss…" he hissed, and I pushed between his shoulders with my left hand, tugging his balls back with my right, so that my dad bent over quickly for me.
"I think you do too, Slave-Daddy." I pulled his scrotum tight and his skin grew damp with sweat even as I watched. "They give you bad thoughts, don't they? Make you want to do things to me…"
"Yes, Mistress!" He had his hands on his knees and flexed his legs, pushing his hips back to ease the tension on his balls.
"Do you want to fuck me, Slave-Daddy?" I squeezed his balls hard, feeling the firm orbs within his sack being compressed in my fist.
"Ooooh…ow…ahhh…" he moaned, breathing hard, but carefully, as if the smallest movement of any part of him only increased the pain.
"It makes you dizzy, doesn't it?" I chuckled. "A little nauseas maybe? I could crush your balls right now, Slave-Daddy. I could make them pop, should I do that?"
I squeezed harder and pulled back a little more so that my father was trembling with a combination of fear and excitement such as he'd never experienced before.
"No…P-Please…Mistress…" he groaned and I opened my hand slightly, giving him relief from the pain. I'd demonstrated my power and he'd accepted it willingly, not fighting me at all, and I was very pleased with my father just then.
"Is your cock still hard, Slave-Daddy?"
"Yes, Mistress." He swallowed and glanced at me over his back. I could see his face turned red and his eyes moist. I'd been squeezing his balls very hard near the end.
"That's good," I let his balls go completely. "You really do love me, don't you?"
"Yessss…I do, Mistress."
"A lot of men go soft when they get squeezed like that, even some of the men who like it." I stroked my dad's back gently. "But you're still hard as a rock, Slave-Daddy."
"Yes, Mistress." He actually smiled, feeling some small bit of pride I imagine. I hadn't lied about any of that either, it was hard for a man to stay erect when his balls were being crushed.
"So you deserve a reward, I think." I moved around him once more, lifting him slowly so that my dad would stand up straight.
I reached down to grasp his penis, sliding my hand along the heavy shaft. He was hot and hard and thick under my fingers and I felt a perverse thrill touching him that way, even more so than when I'd held his balls. I was excited and while I'd always intended our first scene to be short, it was difficult to imagine letting him go so easily.
"Do you want to cum, Slave-Daddy?" I whispered, looking into his handsome face and seeing nothing but desire there.
"Yes, Mistress. God yes," he replied breathlessly.
"Whose cock is this?" I asked him.
"Yours, Mistress," he answered without hesitation.
"What about your wife, Slave-Daddy? What about my mother?"
"I don't…" he looked confused, as if he'd forgotten about her and I saw guilt in his soft blue eyes.
"You don't what?" I jerked him off slowly. "Love her? Honor her?"
"No, Mistress…I…Yes, I do, but…"
"But what, Slave-Daddy?" I rubbed the head of his penis with my thumb, feeling the wetness there, his precum spilling from the tip of his glans.
"I want you, Mistress." He closed his eyes.
"Have you fucked other women?" I wanted to know. "Have you cheated on her? Don't lie to me, Slave-Daddy, or I'll know."
"Once," he nodded. "It was…It was a long time ago."
"Does she know?"
"Yes, Mistress," my dad looked smaller as he said that.
"And now you want to do it again." I shook my head. "With your own daughter, no less."
"Yes…Mistress," My father replied stiffly, his body rigid as his orgasm grew closer.
"Get down, on your knees…On the floor…" I told him suddenly, pushing my dad down as I released his cock. "On your belly, Slave-Daddy…"
"Yes…Yes…Mistress…" he moved quickly, doing exactly what I was telling him to do. He got on the carpet of his study and I put my left shoe close to his face.
"Lick my shoe. Clean it with your filthy tongue," I demanded. "You can fuck the floor…Do it, Slave-Daddy! Make yourself cum while you lick my shoe."
I watched my dad's prone form beneath me. He lifted his hips, his ass, and pushed his pelvis against the rough carpeting beneath him, humping the floor as I'd instructed. It looked ridiculous and obscene and his body was pink with humiliation, but he kept his mouth on my shoe. His tongue lapping along the leather of my sling and when I lifted my foot off the floor he didn't hesitate to clean the bottom.
"The other one…" I pulled my left foot back and presented him with the right. "If you don't cum before you get this shoe clean I'm going to whip your cock. Do you understand me, Slave-Daddy?"
"Yes…Mistress." He gave me a small nod, grinding his body against the carpet harder now.
He licked my shoe carefully and I didn't know if he enjoyed foot worship or not, but I did. I really had very little to go on with my dad, so far as what he wanted, but I suspected he wanted whatever I was willing to make him do. I was as much his fantasy as any BDSM tricks or treats, so just my presence was making it good for him.
"You'd better cum soon, Slave-Daddy," I teased him. "I think that shoe is almost finished."
"Yesss…yes, Mistress…" he was moving faster and his fingers were digging into the carpet around me.
Daddy lay prostrate before me, on his belly, working his cock towards orgasm just for me and I pulled my foot away, standing there with my arms crossed. I wanted to touch myself, to rub my slit and play with my hard little clit. There was an orgasm of my own lurking in the humid folds of my sex, but I waited. I had a lot of patience. A lot of self-discipline; as much as I'd ever expected from one of my bottoms, and it was one reason I was so good at what I did.
"Ohhh! Mistresss…" My father reached his orgasm finally, gasping as he thrust his cock against the rough fabric beneath him. I knew he was shooting his sperm uselessly onto the floor.
"Good, Slave-Daddy, very good." I smiled down at him, into his sweating red face. "I'm leaving you now, going to my room and into my bed alone."
"Yes, Mistress."
"In the morning, I want you to tell your wife what we did tonight."
"W-What?"
"You'll tell her everything, do you understand me, Slave-Daddy?"
"Mistress…I…We can't…"
"You'll tell her that you had a dream, and in that dream this is what happened." I stared down at him. "If you don't do it, Slave-Daddy, I will."
"Yes, Mistress." He rubbed his forehead, plainly worried.
"Except I won't tell her it was a just dream," I promised. "And if that happens, we'll never do this again. Tell me you understand me."
"I…I understand, Mistress." My father nodded with me.
"Good," I smiled tightly. "Now clean up your mess. I'll be waiting for you here this same time tomorrow."
"Yes, Mistress…I'll be here…" Dad promised needlessly as I walked to the door and left him there on his stomach, covering a spreading stain of incestuous semen.