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Subject: Title story: "Ana and her Father" Author: Incestor 60910675
From: Family Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Thu, 01 Dec 2005 04:03:18 +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
End
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