For a year, life went on as before. Lindsey went to school, then she graduated and started work. She stayed living at home, coming home at night and making dinner twice a week. We shared meals and holidays and pretended nothing had happened. When she looked at me across the dinner table and smiled, I swear she didn't remember anything at all.
At times I wondered if I had imagined it. We'd all settle in to watch a movie, and my wife would smile at us, and I wondered how I ever could have done what I'd done. It seemed like a dream. Lindsey would be playing cards, or laughing at a video on her phone, and I'd think I was crazy to have felt anything. But then she'd lean across the counter to grab a glass, or stretch after her run, and I'd remember how she had spread herself for me, letting her father drink in the sight of her cunt, begging for my praise, offering herself to me like I was a king. I remembered the large white bed, the restaurant we ate at the night before. I remember her clit throbbing under the pad of my tongue, and most of all I remember her sweet cries, begging me for more, telling me how much she loved how I loved her.
There were only two differences. The first was that I was always hard around her now. It was impossible not to remember the sweet hours in her bed, the relentless lovemaking of our trip, the desperate sound of her moans, begging her daddy to take good care of her, and her slick hot mouth.
The second was that Lindsey had worsened her behavior. While before she talked back only to me, now she treated my wife like the enemy, too. She stole beers from our fridge and nearly lost her job when she turned up drunk. And then one night, when I had resigned myself to another evening of sexless movie watching with my wife, the police called.
It was Lindsey. Instead of coming home after work, she'd gone to the notorious teenaged hookup spot in the forest, lookout point. She'd been found drinking beer, smoking pot, with four boys from the college nearby. When the police came, they scattered, but my baby had stayed. And when they told her they were going to call her parents, she cried, she'd begged, and according to the officer, she offered him a favor in return. A very nice favor.
I don't know how, but he declined. All this was reported to me as I hurried into jeans, my wife staring, terrified, from the couch, and I grabbed my keys. I couldn't think of anything except the scenarios running through my head -- of my baby, bloodied and naked in the forest, or in a totaled car wrapped around a tree, or on her knees, slurping on the policeman's cock in exchange for a ride home. I bet he'd stroke her hair and call her baby girl.
I drove there as fast as I could. Lindsey was waiting for me, arms crossed, leaning against the side of the cop car. She could not meet my eyes, but her shyness didn't cover up her body, which was squeezed into a black leather skirt and a tight baby tee. I unlocked my car. "Get in."
She looked at me, startled by the fury in my voice. "Dad--"
"Get in the car. Now."
I looked at the cop. He was watching Lindsey go; a forlorn look on his face, no doubt wondering why he'd been such a noble idiot. When he saw me looking, I glared, and he just shrugged. I couldn't exactly blame the guy, could I?
I got in the car and began to drive without a word to her. I was too angry, words went through my head without meaning. I tried to concentrate on keeping the car straight on the road.
Before long I couldn't contain my anger. I was worried I would swerve the car into a light post. I pulled over once we reached the park around the corner from our house. Lindsey's hair stank of booze, and the fabric of her little white tee strained translucent across her breasts. I parked far from the streetlight, and shut off the car.
"All right young lady. Explain."
She twisted her hands in her lap. "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
She was biting her lip, looking down. I realized she was crossing her arms and pushing her breasts together. "No dad," she said. "My friends wanted to go out to Lookout Park."
"And smoke weed and drink beer."
She shrugged. A piece of hair stuck to her lip. "I'm sorry dad."
I watched her for a moment. My hands shook in my hand as I fought back the urge to scream.
"You're sorry?"
"Yes." A touch of steel came into her voice. She thought she'd done enough. Thought I should back off.
"Are you aware of how frightened I was tonight?" I asked. My voice was calm, but something about it must have frightened her, because her big blue eyes snapped to my face. Slowly, she shook her head. "I get a call, hearing my little girl is out of bed in the middle of the night. Then I find out she's driven out to the middle of a park, probably drunk, and she's high and wasted with a bunch of boys. And finally I find out that when she got arrested, she didn't just let the cops call me to come get her. No, she tries to handle it herself. She knows the cop is looking at her tits -- because he was honey, wasn't he? -- and she brushes his cock." I pause, wetting my lips. "So my little girl isn't just a dangerous, stupid minx. She's a slut."
Lindsey turned her head away. I couldn't help it. My fear from earlier was bubbling beneath the surface. I wanted to punish her for what she'd done to me -- punish her for running out tonight, punishing her for touching that man's cock, punish her for showing me the greatest pleasure in the world and taking it away.
I patted my lap. "You know the rules."
She turned to me, eyes wide. "No fucking way."
"Yes princess." I narrowed my eyes. "Rules are rules."
She glared. "You're out of your fucking mind, perv," she said. "You just want to spank me."
I leaned forward. Her breath caught, her breasts going up and down. "What's the rule, chickadee?" I asked.
She swallowed. "If I misbehave, daddy will punish me." We'd had this rule since she was little. I don't think either one of us had thought of it this way before.
I stroked her cheek. "That's right." She closed her eyes. I kissed her nose, her forehead, then leaned back. I patted my lap one more time. Her eyes lingered on my cock, straining against my jeans. I just smiled at her and took her by the hand. "Good girl."
Lindsey slowly bent over, shimming across the truck bench until she was laying across my lap. I pulled up her skirt and let out a tiny moan. "No panties?"
I rested my hand on one of her lovely fat cheeks and rubbed in a circle.
"No daddy."
I paused. Her voice had gone into that delicious, gorgeous sex whimper I remembered from our days at the resort. And with that added layer of lust came something else: a memory of our sweetness and intimacy from that weekend. I didn't want to betray her.
"This is just a punishment, okay chickadee?" I said, clearing my throat. "A few swats to reinforce the rules. Then we'll go home, right cupcake?"
"Yes daddy."
"Just like always."
"Yes daddy."
I rubbed her thighs, into the hot crevice between them, stopping just when I touched a few hairs. "Because you were a bad girl."
