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Subject: INCEST "Ana and her Father " (M/f, nc, inc, heavy D/s) 863982
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Date: Thu, 07 May 2009 17:15:30 +0000
===================
http://www.incesttabooo.com/taboo.html
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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