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From: Arnold Sloan <Nowere@at.all>
Date: Sat, 24 Jun 2006 09:23:39 -0400
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.erotic,alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.bondage.stories
Subject: Slave Daughter - MF/f, BDSM, INCEST
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===================
Brooke was a spoiled wastrel. While her friends were beginning careers,
or earnestly studying in college, Lovely Brooke partied nightly,
content to have her well-off parents support her forever. And then,
late one morning, she arrived home unexpectedly to find her parents
involved in a sadomasochistic bondage game. Staring, transfixed through
the garden window, the astonished girl could hardly believe how
powerful and sensual her muscular father was as he roughly used, and
then whipped a young girl no older than herself, then stared in
amazement as her mother forced the same girl to perform oral sex on
her. Her image of her parents changed forever, and Brooke began to
fantasize about taking the blonde girl's place as their slave, of being
naked and whipped and used by others, especially her parents. And so
Brooke was to change her life, and begin training as a slave girl,
training conducted by her own mother and father.
Brooke slammed the cab door angrily and stormed up the driveway, her
bag over her shoulder she was highly pissed off and more than a little
drunk.
She grunted as she ran into the side of a car and almost fell.
"Fuck!" she cried.
She glared at it and kicked it, then frowned, for she didn't recognize
it. There was another behind it, and another. She scowled at them.
"What the fuck is going on?" she demanded.
It was one in the morning. She had intended spending the night at
Megan's, but they had gotten into an argument. Megan was going back to
university in a month, her third year. Brooke was - not. She had no
intention of going to university. She had no interest. And why should
she? Her parents were rich, beyond rich, wealthy. They were worth
millions, and had no difficulty supporting her. When they were gone,
she would get their money. So why on Earth should she sit in dull
classrooms listening to dull bearded intellectuals spouting nonsense
when she could be out partying? And for that Megan had called her a
leech! The rotten little bitch! As if she was paying a cent towards
those expensive classes at Yale!
And what the fuck were all these cars doing here!?
She kicked the one in front of her again and stumbled, falling back
heavily on her behind.
"Fucking cocksucking son of a bitch!"
She felt the cool grass against her bare bottom and grunted, rolling,
pushing herself unsteadily to her feet, fleetingly glad no one was
there to see her tiny mini fly up and back to reveal her lack of
underwear. Brooke liked not wearing underwear with her short skirts. It
made her feel daring and sexy and dangerous. But that did not mean she
wanted to be seen with her skirt around her waist and her legs sprawled
apart.
Not by just anyone.
She headed up the driveway, muttering, shoving her loose reddish brown
hair out of her eyes. The house should have been dark. It wasn't. It
was very brightly lit, and she slowed wonderingly. Her parents hadn't
told her they were having a party.
She mouthed another curse. If she came in pissed they'd be bitching at
her again. They'd been doing nothing else for months. How dare they!
She was eighteen, wasn't she? More than. She would sneak in the back
way up to her suite of rooms.
She went around the back and halted stupidly staring in through the
wide glass doors into the main living room.
There was a party in there, but not the kind she had imagined. She
found herself staring, gaping, at the site of a naked woman not much
older than herself kneeling at a man's feet giving him head.
"Holy shit," she whispered.
The girl was blonde, slender, with a very attractive body. More
interesting still, her wrists were chained behind her back and she wore
a metal collar around her throat. The man in front of her held the
leash to the collar as her lips bobbed up and down his thick shaft. All
the way up and down, for the girl was effortlessly deep throating him.
Brooke stared enviously, wonderingly. She looked so - exotic, erotic,
so hot as she knelt there with her lips sliding up and down the man's
cock. Beyond them were a number of men and women sitting around on the
plush sofas and chairs watching, grinning, talking together, and her
parents were among them.
Brooke sat down abruptly, grunting, hardly noticing.
Her father was moving forward. The other man had apparently come, and
her father was taking his place. Brooke stared stupidly at her mother,
then at her father, who was wearing only a pair of leather shorts. She
noted, with surprise, that he had a heck of a body. Well, she'd known
he worked out, but - his physique was impressive, and when he lowered
his shorts she gasped at the size of the cock which slid into view.
Her father was hung like a fucking horse!
He watched him tug the girl's leash, then reach down and roughly grasp
her blonde hair, yanking her face forward, tilting her head back. He
rubbed his cock over her face, speaking softly, his lip curled up in a
sneer, and as she watched, transfixed, her father slid that long, fat
cock into the girl's mouth and then rammed it right down her throat.
"God!" she whispered.
She sat in the darkness, watching dazedly as her father fucked the
girl's throat, pulling his saliva coated cock out now and then to rub
it across her face. Then he suddenly flung her back roughly, knelt, and
flipped her onto her belly as though she were weightless. He yanked up
on her hips, raising her bottom, and positioned himself at her bare
sex, a shaven sex, Brooke noted.
Brooke wanted to run off screaming but couldn't. Worse, she felt her
pussy throbbing strongly, her nipples tingling with life inside the
dainty cups of her lacy black bra, her breasts hot. She swallowed
repeatedly, gaping, as her father seized the helpless young girl's hair
and thrust himself violently into her belly. Even through the closed
doors she heard the girls cry, a mixture of pleasure and pain as her
father buried himself in her pussy.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she whispered, wide eyed.
Her father was so different from the man she knew, the gentle father,
the architect, always with the small smile on his face. Now he was
stern, commanding, his lip curled as he barked at the girl he was
riding. His hips slammed against her brutally as he yanked and twisted
her hair. She watched him reach down and seize one of the girl's
breasts, his fingers digging into the soft, plump flesh with what had
to be painful force.
She blinked as if coming out of a trance and looked around her. She
discovered her hand was between her legs, her fingers rubbing at her
sex, and jerked it away guiltily. This was sick! She shouldn't be
watching this, much less getting off on it!
She was about to go when she saw her mother come forward. That froze
her in place. Was her mother, her strong willed mother going to kneel
and be used like that as well? The thought was oddly exciting, yet
almost impossible to imagine.
Nor did it happen. Her mother, clad in a tight leather mini and bustier
which showed off a stunning body, dropped in front of the girl instead.
She reached for her hair and not only yanked her head up but lifted her
shoulders off the floor. Then she pulled apart her mini and exposed her
own shaven sex.
Brooke gaped. Surely her mother wasn't - . And then her mother guided
the girl's mouth in against her sex and the girl began to lick.
Oddly, Brooke handled that better than her father. Having little
bisexual flings was all the fashion, after all, and her mother was
nothing if not fashionable.
She looked at the girl between them wonderingly. What was it like to be
used like that? Her own sexual encounters had always been carefully
scripted. She had to act in a certain way, had to say certain things.
She had to move her hips, move her hands, move her lips in certain
ways, and touch certain parts of his body. It was important to be
considered good in bed, not great, not too, too enthusiastic, for that
would draw jeers and insinuations.
But almost as bad was the reputation of being bad in bed, a dead lay,
incompetent. That brought snickers, and Brooke was always dreadfully
aware of her reputation in all things, and the need to protect it.
But this lovely blonde girl, she was just being - used, and roughly.
She didn't need to really do much of anything but be a sex toy for her
parents and others to play with. She felt a sudden heated longing for
such a thing, to just give in to a wild sexual encounter with no care
about what to do or how her behaviour would be seen and measured or
what anyone would think. To just lay there in chains and be - fucked.
She watched her parents use the girl, suppressing the heat she felt
inside herself. So her parents were perves? Heh. Maybe she could use
that against them the next time they bitched, she thought weakly.
Her parents finished, and another man moved forward, a large brute of a
fellow who threw the girl onto her back and then slammed himself into
her.
Brooke winced. That must hurt, she thought.
Yet she felt her fingers creeping between her thighs again as the man
rode her, as he pinned her legs back and pounded down into her body.
The girl was helpless, her hands chained behind her, and could nothing
but gasp and moan and cry out as he rode her. Brooke stared, and saw
herself in the girl's place, a big, brute of a man ramming himself down
into her as people watched.
Her fingers slipped beneath her mini and she gasped at how wet she was,
how dripping her pussy. She began to stroke her swollen clit, moaning
softly as she watched the girl's slender body crushed beneath the
hulking male body, watched his stiff cock slicing back and forth
between her sex lips.
She leaned further and further forward, squeezing her breast, rubbing
her pussy. She grunted as she lost her balance, falling forward onto
her shoulders, still staring, still kneading her pussy as she thrust
her bottom in the air and drove three fingers into her gooey pussy. She
came with a shuddering moan, and then heard the girl beginning to cry
out, to moan and wail loudly as her own orgasm arrived. The sound made
her body thrum with heat all over again.
"Fuck me! Yes! Yes! Oh God! Oh fuck! Fuck me! Fuck me!" the girl was
crying.
It was bizarre even imagining herself making such cries. She had always
been carefully controlled, even in her sex, and if she'd occasionally
felt very aroused, well, she hid it being groans and sighs. Crying out
loud could get her a reputation, after all.
The man finished with the blonde, and released her. Her body spread
out, unfurling, and lay sprawled naked on the floor. Another man came
forward, and the girl was all but dragged to her feet. Brooke watched
as she was led across the room to the pillars which separated it from
the hall outside, watched as her chained wrists were unshackled and
then spread up and out to either side. The blonde girl made no
resistance as her wrists were chained up to - to hooks on the sides of
two pillars, hooks which had held heavy planters.
And then her father moved behind the girl carrying - . A whip!? Brook
gasped in disbelief, her heart fluttering as she saw the separated
tails of the whip swinging and swaying below her father's fist. Others
gathered around, and her father swung. The whip spread out as it flew
through the air, and then cracked across the girl's back with a sound
she could hear through the windows. A moment later the girl cried out
in pain, her back arching, her legs twisting and jerking violently
beneath her.
Brooke stared, appalled, mesmerised, her fingers buried in her sex,
thrusting, squirming, her heart pounding as her father brought the whip
down again and again and again. The blonde girl cried out, sobbed,
twisted and thrashed against the chains holding her, and then sagged,
all but hanging by the wrists as her father continued to swing the whip
against her now very red back.
She saw another man kneel in front of the girl, and guessed he was
performing oral sex, but her focus was on her father, watching the
muscles bunch in his shoulders and arms and back a he brought the whip
down on the helpless blonde, his ass tight in his short black leather
shorts. He was like an Adonis, she thought wonderingly.
He halted and a man moved up behind the girl, his cock out. Brooke bit
her tongue as she saw him working his cock up into her anus, the girl
moaning and writhing, head falling back bonelessly.
She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled around back, let herself
in, and darted up the rear stairs to her room.
She always kept her door locked when not in, so there was no reason her
parents, whose bedroom was across the other side of the house, should
even know she was there. She stripped quickly, flinging herself on her
bed, reaching for her night table and vibrator, then rolled onto her
back and turned it on, thrusting it into her pussy with painful force,
groaning, arching her back as she thought about being taken violently,
chained and taken.
She woke slowly, groaning and rolling over on her satin sheets, pulling
them in against her naked body, loving the feel of the smooth satin
against her bare breasts. She pulled the sheets up around herself,
rolling her head in the soft, feather pillow, sighing comfortably.
The events of the previous night - morning, came flooding in and she
blinked her eyes, then swallowed as her pulse picked up. It had all
happened! Her right hand was already between her legs, and now her
finger slipped down to her tight pussy entrance and found her clit,
rubbing gently against it. Her mind's eye filled with the memories of
the blonde girl, chained and used and whipped.
Her fingers slipped into her moist sex and she groaned as she pumped
them in and out, her thumb stroking across her clit. Her mind drifted,
and she saw herself shackled, used, whipped by strong men. And then the
strong man shifted, and it was her father, punishing her, using her.
She groaned, feeling nasty and wicked, but the fantasy turned her
insides to jelly and she came violently, her legs spreading wide, her
back arching as she gurgled and moaned and shuddered in pleasure.
She lay in bed for a time, panting, recovering, then flung the covers
back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She stood up, moving
to the window and checking outside. It was a sunny day - again. No
surprise in California.
She padded to her low dresser and gazed at herself in the mirror, then
picked up a brush and brushed lightly at her hair. It spilled over her
shoulders in a loose, uneven mass of reddish brown, a rolling wave of
tangled lightly curled silk which caressed her bare back halfway to the
waist Sometimes she brushed it out perfectly straight.
Sometimes she pulled it up behind her head. Sometimes she did it in a
thick pony tail. Yet today she did little, not even bothering to shower
before going down. She didn't want her hair looking smooth and neat
that morning.
She had no plans, no real ideas about what to do, about how to act,
about how to respond, about what she knew. But she felt - aroused -
electric.
She shook her head and her hair tumbled loosely, spilling over her
forehead, the strong red tinting glistening in the light as it brushed
across her back and shoulders.
She had a long, slim, full busted body, with slender, but rounded hips,
a trim, flat tummy, and high, youthfully firm breasts.
She considered momentarily. She rarely dressed unless going out. She
liked her comfort. She opened the drawer and drew on a lacy black
thong.
Thongs were all she wore, so that was hardly unusual. Then she opened
her closet and took out the tops of a pair of black silk pyjamas she
rarely wore. She slipped them on and buttoned them up, except for the
last button of course.
Then, her mood affecting her, she unbuttoned the second button and
nodded at the hint of cleavage revealed.
Her nipples, she realized, were hard. But the house was chilly with the
air conditioning, and the black of the pyjamas would make that less
obvious.
She opened her door and wandered out, her bare feet sinking into the
soft rug running down the hall.
It was Saturday, and just past noon. Her father was home. She felt an
unfamiliar nervousness creep over her, and the thrumming between her
legs grew worse. She looked down at her long, bare legs anxiously, then
steeled herself. She often wore less than this around the house,
sometimes coming down in bra and thong panties. Why should she feel -
slutty now?
Her father looked up from his newspapers, his eyes taking on a look of
surprise, then wariness as she walked casually into the room.
"Hi, Daddy," she said brightly, hiding everything behind a smile.
"I didn't know you were home, Brooke," he said questioningly.
"Oh, I got home early," she said casually, her heart pounding.
She saw him again, in her mind's eye, his cock pushing into the girl's
face, the whip cutting across her back, and felt herself flushing.
"How early?" he asked, casually.
She turned away to hide the blush. "Oh, real early, eight or so I
think."
"You woke up that early? That's unusual for you."
"Oh no, I just went to bed then," she said with a sleepy grin as she
turned and let herself all back lengthwise along the sofa.
The light top slid up, revealing her thong and she casually smoothed it
down over her thighs again.
"I thought you were staying with Megan."
Brooke's face turned sulky. "We had a - an argument."
"Ah," he said, nodding and turning his eyes back to his paper.
"Honestly, she's such a snot sometimes."
"Do tell," he said.
She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing at all," he said, not raising his eyes.
"I am not a snot!"
"I didn't say you were, dear," he said, raising his eyes briefly.
"But you thought it!" she said accusingly.
"Have you developed a talent for mind reading?" he asked, looking up at
her again.
"I know you," she said sulkily. "You guys are always bitching at me,
calling me lazy and useless."
"We've never called you useless," he said. "We just want you to find
something you're good at, something you like to do - ."
"I'm good at spending money."
"Shopping is not a skill."
"Fat lot you know," she muttered.
"As I said, we want you to find your way in life, to develop a skill
and - ."
"I'm good at sex," she said tauntingly.
He sighed. "If you think you can make a career of it dear."
"I don't need a career. I don't need money!"
"That's true. But you can't sit around all your life doing nothing."
"I'm not doing nothing," she said, jumping to her feet and pacing. "I
have fun. I party. I shop. Why should I do anything else?"
"We've gone over this, Brooke."
"You want me to be a sales clerk or something?"
"No," he said patiently.
"I don't want to go to school! It's boring, boring, boring! And then
what? Sit around in a boring office all day doing boring paperwork?!"
"I like what I do."
"I don't have the math for that," she sniffed, dropping down heavily
onto the sofa beside him.
"There are other careers that don't need math."
"No, but they do need spending hours and hours, years and years
studying and writing papers and ugh!"
She fell back on the sofa, her hands behind her hair, glaring sulkily
up at the ceiling. After a moment she became aware that her position
had drawn the short pyjama top upwards along her thighs, baring her
thong covered pussy again. Yet she did not move, instead feeling a
renewal of the quivering in her belly and thrumming in her loins.
The thong was a very narrow V of black fabric with two thin strings
curving upwards over her hips, and she wondered, her heart pounding, if
he was looking at her. At that moment her feelings were very difficult
for her to understand. Her father was now a sexual creature, a hot,
sexy man. And yet he was also sexless old daddy, utterly safe.
She raised herself on her elbows, careful to put a pouty look on her
face.
"Is there any interesting thing I could do without going to school?"
she asked.
"You mean that someone would pay you to do?" he asked.
She shrugged and tossed her head, letting her louse hair swirl around
her face and head.
"Not really."
"Aren't there, like, self made millionaires who never went to college?"
"A few."
"Well then, I could be one of them."
He snorted. "That generally requires a particular skill or talent and
hard work, eighteen hour days for years."
She rolled her eyes.
"You could just give me some money," she said. "Like, a few million to
start."
"I don't think so."
"Oh why not?" she groaned, sitting up, letting the silk top slide down
over her hips again, and leaning forward to throw her arms around him.
"Please daddy!" she cooed. "Please, please, please?"
She was suddenly very much aware of her bare breasts pressing against
her father's well muscled chest through the thin silk top, of the soft,
warm flesh pillowed out against his body. Her heart beat more quickly
and she kissed the side of his cheek.
"And what would you do with millions of dollars?" he asked, loosening
her arms from around his neck and easing her back.
She shrugged. "Just uhm, use it I guess."
He sighed. "On parties and booze and drugs and clothes."
She shrugged again. "So?"
"That's not a life."
"It's a fun life."
"I didn't raise you to be a lazy, shiftless party girl flitting from
one party and one bed to the next."
"But it's fun," she said with a sly grin.
She gasped, wondering, as she caught his eyes flicking briefly down, if
he had looked into her cleavage.
"You're all grown up now, Brooke."
"I know," she said with a smirk.
"That means you need to get off your butt and work for a living."
"But why should I when I have a rich daddy?"
She managed to turn in his hands, and slip backwards so she was sitting
across his lap, her arm over his shoulder, her other hand on his chest,
and her head against his broad chest.
"Come on, daddy. Just a few million dollars," she cooed.
"You say that like its a few dollars."
"Well you've got lots of them," she said.
"I am not going to give you millions of dollars," he said in annoyance.
"If you want independence, want to be grown up and do as you want then
earn your own money and support yourself."
"But I don't want to support myself," she said.
She hadn't really thought of it that way before, but the truth was
Brooke didn't at all mind having someone else taking care of all the
bills, not to mention all the problems which came up from time to time.
"Then find some young man to support you," he said.
She sighed and batted her eyes at him. "But then he'd want to do..."
She walked her fingers slowly across his chest. "... nasty things to
me, daddy," she said in a little girl voice.
He gripped her wrist and pushed her hand away. "I'm not under any
illusions about your virginity, Brooke," he said with a growl.
She frowned indignantly. "Well that's not a nice thing to say!"
"You're not exactly a naive Kansas farm girl, Brooke."
"So you don't mind if I have to give myself to some crude sex maniac to
survive!" she demanded.
"Being dramatic isn't going to help your case."
"You have tons of money. I don't see why I should need anyone else to
take care of me."
He sighed. "You don't, Brooke. I will always take care of you."
"Well good then," she said, snuggling her face in against his chest.
"But that doesn't mean you're not going to have to live by my rules
while you're living in my house and eating my food."
"Sure, sure," she said negligently.
"I mean it, Brooke."
She sighed. "You're being tiresome, daddy."
"And you're being lazy. If you won't get a job you can do charity
work."
She pulled her head back and stared at him in astonishment. "Charity
work!? Are you freaking kidding me!?"
"No," he said, annoyed.
"That'll be the day I spend my time making meals or something for some
grubby poor people! Ick."
"You are not going to spend your life partying and doing nothing."
"If you say so," she sniffed.
"I'm serious."
"I won't do it," she said with a shrug.
"You will if you don't want your credit cards cancelled."
"If you cancel my cards I'll get my friends to buy things for me," she
snapped, "My male friends! Of course, maybe they'll want something in
return, but you obviously won't mind that since you think I'm a whore."
"If you want to give yourself to men in exchange for dresses and shoes
that's up to you, but unless they're willing to throw in the rent on a
condo you'll still do what I tell you."
"Or what?" she demanded sarcastically. "Are you going to ground me?
Maybe you'd like to spank me, hmmm?"
She half rolled away from him, snatching up the bottom of her pyjama
hem to reveal her nearly bare bottom.
"Don't piss me off, Brooke," her father snapped.
"Or what? Will you spank me?"
She rolled the rest of the way over, sliding forward more to lay her
bare bottom across his lap. He had seen her in thongs before, but now
he was more than her sexless father. Now he was that hot, powerful man
who had whipped the blonde girl, and she felt a powerful throbbing heat
in her loins as she rolled her hips up at him, taunting him.
She was almost expecting the crack of his hand across her bottom.
Instead she felt him grip her thigh up high near her pussy, as well as
her upper arm. Then she was heaved up and over his shoulders to land
sprawling on the floor.
"Fuck!" she said in startled shock. "You bastard!"
She got to her knees, then he feet, glaring at him.
"Watch your language," her father snapped.
"Or what? Will you tie me up and whip me!?" she snarled.
"What are you talking about?" he asked warily.
"Oh don't think I don't know!" she shouted. "I saw you and that little
blonde slut last night! It was disgusting!"
"What consenting adults do is up to them," he said, not embarrassed.
"You think tying up some poor girl and whipping her is all acceptable,
daddy!" she sneered.
"Melanie is a grown woman - ."
"She looked younger than me!"
"Nevertheless, she has more maturity than you've ever displayed."
"Oh that's what you consider maturity! Maybe I should let men whip me
too! Is that what you're saying!? And then I could eat out their wives
while they do me!"
"You must have been watching for quite a while."
"It was hard to miss! You and mom and some little blonde slut half your
age!"
"Are you jealous of Melanie?" he asked quietly.
"Jealous?" she demanded incredulously. "Are you insane!
"Well, Brooke, you saw your father having sex with a young girl last
night and now you're rolling half naked on my lap trying to get him to
spank you."
"I was not!" she exclaimed, face reddening.
"Do you think you'd like being shackled and whipped?"
"You're sick!" she said hotly.
"Your mother and I don't think badly of sexual submissives," he said
calmly.
"Is that what you call the sluts?"
Brooke's mother strode into the room. "What is going on?" she demanded.
Brooke froze but her father shook his head. "Brooke must have come home
late last night. She watched us with Melanie."
Her mother's face flushed and Brooke sneered. "Yes, you making out with
a girl, mother!" she said with a sneer, "A girl half your age! And all
that whips and chains shit, too! It was disgusting!"
"She was so disgusted by it she was rolling around on my lap two
minutes ago, pulling up the hem of her nightshirt and showing me her
lacy little thong."
"Oh?" Her mother's eyes narrowed.
Brooke's mouth opened in outrage.
"Acting bratty and trying to get me to spank her."
"Sooo," her mother said, frowning at her.
"You two are both crazy!" Brooke shouted, her face going red as she
fled the room.
Humiliated, she took the stairs two at a time and then slammed the door
of her room.
She was going to - to change and go out - somewhere! She was going to
get in her Porsche and head down the highway at a hundred miles an
hour, and maybe pick up a bunch of bikers! That would show her parents!
Maybe if she was gang raped and left in a gutter they - .
"Brook? Open the door," her mother demanded.
"Get lost!"
"I said open this door!"
"Go away! Maybe you can find some little bimbo to spank, mother!"
The door opened and she backed up, face flushed.
"This is my house, remember?" her mother said, coming in and pocketing
the key. "I have the keys to the doors."
"And I'm just a fucking tenant or something, right? I don't even get
privacy!"
Brooke turned and rushed towards her ensuite bathroom but her mother
intercepted her. And just as her father was a head taller than she so
was her mother, and considerably stronger. She yanked Brooke back and
sat her down on a chair, glaring at her.
"Maybe you'd like to tell me what this latest tantrum is all about,
young lady."
"There's nothing to talk about! Just leave me alone! You're both sick!"
"If you thought we were sick you wouldn't have taken the first
opportunity to sit in your father's lap," her mother said. "Wearing a
thong, yet."
"I always wear thongs," Brooke said, face reddening still further.
"And show your bottom to your father and dare him to spank you?" her
mother said, arms folded across her chest. "Were you trying to provoke
your father into doing something?"
"I wasn't!" Brooke cried, dropping her eyes, face now burning.
"When you were watching your father punishing Melanie, were you jealous
of Melanie?" her mother asked gently.
"NO!"
"Did you imagine yourself in chains being punished by him?"
"I told you no! You're sick!"
She tried to rise but her mother shoved her back, frowning.
"You're a grown woman, Brooke. But you've always been - weak."
"Weak?" Brooke demanded, outraged.
"Flawed. You always look to someone else to solve your problems for
you, someone else to make the hard decisions, someone else to take
responsibility. Are you a sexual submissive? Have you ever let a boy
tie you up?"
"I'm not listening to this!" Brooke said through clenched teeth,
dropping her chin to her chest and refusing to look up at her.
Her mother snorted, then left the room. Brooke glared at the open door,
then jumped up and slammed it closed, locking it, then hurried to her
closet, yanking down a pair of jeans and a tank top.
The door opened and her mother came in, frowning.
"Can't I have any privacy!?" Brooke demanded angrily.
"I brought something for you to try out."
Her mother held, incredibly, metal chains and shackles in her hands.
Brooke stared at them incredulously.
"Are you insane!?" she demanded.
Her mother dropped most of them on a chair next to her, then walked up
to her and caught at her arm.
"Let go of me!" Brooke demanded, trying to twist free.
Her mother held her easily, and snapped a simple metal shackle closed
on her right wrist, then, struggling only briefly, a second around her
left. They were connected by a six inch chain, and as her mother
stepped back Brooke held her hands up to her eyes, staring in
disbelief.
"How do they feel?" her mother asked calmly.
Brooke stared past her shackled wrists, raising her head to look up at
her mother.
"T-take them off!" she gulped.
"Come here."
"M-mother! Take them off!" she cried, as her mother tugged her by the
arm and shoved her into a nearby chair.
She immediately gripped one of Brooke's slender ankles and slipped
another metal shackle around it. Brook stared at her in shock, then
twisted, jerking her foot away, but too late. Even as she tried to rise
her mother had her other ankle, yanking it up to dump her back into the
chair. Then the second shackle was snapped closed and locked. Like the
ones around her wrists they were slim stainless steel, perhaps an inch
wide, with a narrow chain linking them and a small ring set into the
side.
"Get them off!" Brooke cried. "You pervert! You freak!"
"If you want to experiment, Brooke, you can do so safely here," her
mother said, rising as Brooke rose, then turning away.
"Take them off!"
"We'll see how you feel in an hour or two," her mother said over her
shoulder.
She closed the door behind her and Brooke was left shackled hand and
foot, staring down at the shackles in disbelief. She pulled against the
chain, stretching it out tautly, trying to tug her wrists free. Her
fingers moved over the smooth metal, trying to separate the shackles,
but finding no catch except the one with a tiny key hole in it.
"Fuck! Fuck!" she shouted, turning in place, tugging angrily. "My
fucking parents are sick perverts!"
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From the ebook: Slave Daughter, by Argus. Argus books have been
published in paper form by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon, Star, Olympia,
Chimera, and Beeline. His ebooks are available for download at
http://www.ebookblue.com
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