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From: John Simmons <around@here.com>
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Subject: Slave Daughter - MF/f, INCEST, BDSM
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Date: Sun, 22 Aug 2004 01:47:17 +0000
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===================
Brooke was a spoiled wastrel with no intention of ever working for a
living, until her stern parents taught her the pleasures of slavery.
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!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the ebook: Slave Daughter, by Argus
Argus books have been published by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon, Star,
Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. His ebooks can be downloaded at
http://www.ebookblue.com
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