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Subject: Title story: "Ana and her Father" Author: Incestor 43162970
From: Family Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Mon, 09 May 2005 18:22:56 +0000
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Ana and her Father
Ana and her Father (M/f, nc, inc, heavy D/s)
***
Ana stretched her limbs for the first time in several hours. The drive from the
airport had been long and tedious, and there had been no stops. As she worked
the cramps from her tired body, she looked up at what must be her new home. She
blinked, and glanced at her welfare officers, themselves just emerging from the
car, for affirmation. Mrs. Johnson smiled at her.
"That's the one, dear."
It wasn't a house. It was a mansion, complete with gables and turrets and a wrought-
iron gate. Ana thought privately that it looked somewhat like a fortress. She
sighed. This had not exactly been what she'd expected.
Ana Jameson had, until now, lived with her mother in Chicago. When her mother
had died two weeks before, of a rapidly encroaching cancer the doctors were
powerless to stop, the welfare officials had searched desperately for any
living family member. Her mother had been an only child, and her grandparents
were long gone.
The only lead the welfare agency had to go by was the name of her father,
written on her birth certificate. Ana had never had contact with her father,
even to the extent of knowing his name. Her mother had never said a word about
him; who he was, where they'd met, or where he was now. Assuming she had even
known, that is.
Upon contacting him, the welfare officials were not surprised to find that he
had previously been unaware he had a daughter at all. They were more surprised,
however, to hear him agree to take her in. And so for Ana it was a long drive
with the ever-somber Miss Johnson and Mr. Davis to southern Kentucky.
She hadn't expected to find a luxuriant mansion of this sort located in
Kentucky, but here it was before her, large as life. She half-expected there to
be a moat or a lonely princess locked in a turret. She shook her head; there
was even a cold draft blowing down off the hill. It was all a little too
Gothic. Pulling her sweater tighter around her with one arm, she bent to pick
up her suitcase. Miss Johnson and Mr. Davis shared a glance, and then smiled
brightly at Ana.
"Well, here we are. Ready, sweetie?"
Ana grimaced. On top of her mother's recent death and her being shipped off to
the boondocks to live with a man she'd never seen before in her life, she had to
contend with her social welfare officers, who did not appear to be interested so
much in her social welfare as getting her off their hands as quickly as
possible. But, she supposed, at least her father seemed to be wealthy enough.
Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad.
The shivering 16-year-old strode ahead of her guardians and walked purposefully
toward the front door of the mansion. Miss Johnson and Mr. Davis shared another
glance, this time a bit more worried.
"Do you think we should tell her?"
"What, about the rumors? They're rumors. Unsubstantiated rumors. And besides,
he's the girl's father. What else could we do?"
"Well, I know... it's just that the stories we've heard from the locals..."
"A lonely recluse, wealthy, with a bit of a taste for the extreme in his sexual
life. So what? It's a free country, he's not hurting anybody, the last time
anybody saw him in town _anyway_ was over a year ago, and she's his daughter, so
at any rate they won't be having sex. Happy?"
"I suppose."
In the meantime, Ana had rung the doorbell, with some trepidation. Half a
minute later, the door opened, causing her to involuntarily gasp in
surprise. Embarrassed, she smiled at the man standing in the doorway and
introduced herself.
"Hello, sir... I'm Ana Jameson."
Paul Andrews stared at the girl on his doorstep. His gaze was imperious, and he
turned its full weight to bear on Ana.
"You're to live with me, I suppose. Come in, then."
Ana turned to her welfare workers for support, but they only shook her hand,
each in turn, told her they wished her the best of luck, and headed back to the
car. Ana watched their car drive away; feeling lost and alone, and slowly
followed her father indoors.
Once inside, her father led her through the house to her room. He pointed out
the kitchen and bathrooms along the way, as well as his wing of the house and
the living rooms and such. All of this was done in a commanding voice, bearing
no interruption or comment. Ana had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Finally, after what seemed a mile, Paul opened the door to Ana's new room. It
was simple compared with the rest of the house, with only a bed, a dresser, and
a desk. She set her suitcase on the floor and turned to face her father. For a
long moment, each sized the other up. Paul saw a young, fairly attractive girl,
with long straight hair, bearing a vague resemblance to himself. He noted that
she was tallish, and had strong legs. Ana, on the other hand, saw a black-clad,
dark-haired man, wearing wire-rim glasses, also tall, and well built, with a
stern face.
"Come with me."
Ana followed the abrupt command, trailing her father down the stairs into a
living room. He indicated to her to sit down opposite him, in one of the high-
backed chairs.
"Your name is Ana. Mine is Paul, although I will expect you to address me
differently. We'll get to that in a moment. First, let me make something
perfectly clear to you. I bore no sentiment for your mother. She was a mistake
that I made almost 17 years ago, and I'd nearly forgotten about her."
Ana blinked hard. Her mother's death was still fresh in her mind, and she missed
her terribly. She had to hold back tears at these harsh words. Paul, appearing
not to notice, continued.
"I have certain expectations about how my house will be run. When I am working
in my study, you will not disturb me. Nor will you speak to me unless you are
either addressed, or have a specific question to ask me. You will keep your room
clean, and you will achieve good marks in school. Those are my basic
expectations."
Ana felt sick. But Paul was not finished yet.
"You also may have heard rumors in the town about me. They say I'm some kind of
sexual deviant, and that I have no morals to speak of."
Paul gazed down at Ana, who was struck speechless.
"I can't speak as to my morals, but I am indeed a sexual deviant. There's a name
for men like me, and that name is 'sadist'. Now, I have not indulged my
particular pleasures for quite some time. However, unfortunately for you, and
very fortunately for me, it appears that I have a new toy."
Ana realized that he was referring to _her_ as his "toy". She stood up in shock
and began to speak, only to be silenced by her father's voice.
"Sit down! I told you that you _will not_ speak unless spoken to. You have
nowhere to go. My doors lock from the inside as well as the outside. And, even
if you could get out, there's nowhere you could go for help. I control this town
financially, and no matter how sympathetic they might be to you, they'll return
you to me. I furthermore suggest that you keep your mouth shut about what goes
on here, if you want any semblance of a normal life outside these walls."
Ana was trembling now, in utter disbelief.
"Now. You will address me only as "Father" or "Master". You will wear only the
clothing I choose for you. And you are subject to my demands, at all times. If
you disobey any of my orders, you will be punished. Do you understand?" Ana
finally found her voice.
"No, I don't understand! What do you mean?"
That was as far as she got with her protest. Her father had rapidly crossed
the distance to her chair, grabbed her wrists behind her back, and marched
her, crying out her protest and struggling to get free, to a room on the next
floor down.
Once she'd stopped struggling, Ana found herself chained to a wall by her
wrists, hanging from manacles, which were set high on the wall. Paul ripped her
blouse from her body in a business-like fashion, doing the same to her bra. He
slid the skirt down past her hips, and then her panties, ignoring his daughter's
protests and feeble kicks. He smiled to himself; it was difficult to kick well
when one's arms were pulled straight above one's head.
He was now looking at a squirming young girl, the muscles in her legs
straining, and her high fine breasts bouncing as she wriggled back and forth,
chained to a wall in his basement. He sighed in pleasure. Fatherhood was going
to be good to him.
Ana was crying out, begging to be released, begging to be sent back home,
twisting and straining against her chains.
"This is the beginning of your punishment, slave. Eventually you'll learn to
stifle your disagreement with my decisions."
Paul chose a fine, many-tailed whip, with a long handle. He began prodding Ana's
inner thighs with the whip handle, forcing her legs further and further apart
until she could barely remain standing.
"What are you doing? Please, let me go, I'll do anything, please just
let me go..."
He smiled again. Indeed, she would do anything and everything for him, but he
would not be letting her go anytime soon. He began to stroke higher and higher
on her thighs with the whip handle, causing her legs to jerk and flinch. He
noted her ticklishness for future reference.
"Ana, are you a virgin?"
"WHAT? What kind of a..."
Paul grabbed her long, fine hair and pulled it harshly. Ana screamed.
"Are you a virgin, Ana?"
"YES!" Paul released her hair.
"Not for long."
Paul believed firmly in increasing the sensitivity of a woman's body before he
gave her a good lashing. For this, her legs would have to be chained in place.
He cuffed her ankles in manacles and chained them to the wall, spreading her
legs far apart in the process. Then he began the slow process of her torture.
Ana felt her father begin to kiss her calves, his lips and tongue caressing her
legs gently and lovingly. She moaned and squirmed, but there was no escape from
her bonds of iron. Paul continued upward, planting gentle kisses on her smooth
white flesh, all the way up her thighs, until she was gasping. Then he very
slowly slid his finger along her pussy lips, allowing his thumb to rest on her
clit, rotating very slowly. He slid his tongue along her pussy, kissing and
licking it as he had her calves and thighs.
Ana, her body in a state of great confusion, moaned helplessly and rocked in her
chains. Her father's warm wet tongue was probing an area of her she'd rarely
even touched herself. Her thighs were tensed, and she wriggled and squirmed, but
there was no escape from his gentle invasive licking and sucking.
"Please please let me go please, mmm god what are you doing? Please don't whip
me I'll be good I swear, mmmm please please..."
Paul ceased his ministrations for a moment and stood, finding a decent-
sized ball gag.
"My dear, you are becoming monotonous."
He forced her mouth open, shoving the bright rubber ball well in past her teeth,
and strapped it in. He liked this particular design. It allowed her to moan, but
not to articulate, and it was quite painful in the degree it forced her jaw
open. He knelt between her legs again and continued his gentle exploration of
his daughter's innermost folds, which were considerably moister than they had
been when he'd begun.
As Ana's moans turned into gasps, higher- and higher- pitched, she stopped
struggling. Ana closed her eyes and was swaying back and forth, the sensations
emanating from her clitoris becoming unbearably pleasurable. She bit her lip and
began to submit to the waves of pleasure sweeping through her body. At this
point, Paul finally stopped, causing a desperate whimper from behind the gag.
"Liked that, did you, dear?" Paul smiled amusedly as Ana's eyes opened and she
realized what she'd almost done, shaking her head violently back and forth. Paul
took the whip again and this time slowly caressed her back and belly and thighs
with the tails, observing with pleasure his daughter's ticklish jerks and
panicked giggles. He indulged himself for a few moments more with this, and then
stood well back from her, watching her trembling soft body.
Oh, it was going to be a good year. That soft white skin, so young and firm, so
cool to the touch...
*WHACK*
Ana screamed, her body twisting and jerking. Several bright red stripes began to
appear on her ass.
*WHACK
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