It had taken me but a few minutes to get into my father's collection of bondage pictures one day when he was at work. God, I sat there and clicked from one thumbnail to the next, my heart thumping hard as each picture of a bound woman came on the screen. By the third time I was going through the file, I knew I wanted to try this but, as always, there was no one I could think of to experiment with.
After a very frustrating week of looking at the favorite bondage pictures I had copied to a disk to use on my computer, I came to an earth shaking realization: I'd do it myself. I figured that I could tie my feet to the bottom of my bed, lay my secret vibrator against my pussy, push a pillow against it to hold it secure, then tie my wrists, being able to untie them when I was done. Admittedly, not very real but I'd get a feeling of the ropes, the rest I could fantasize.
For the first week I'd rush home from work, strip and tie myself to my bed and become my own little sex slave. By the time my father rolled in I was wiped out and rushing around to get dinner done for the two of us. There was one more reward out of all of this, I was constantly getting deeper and deeper into needing to be a real sex slave.
Friday night I tied myself up, laid back and thrashed my body against the wicked vibrator master. My mind was at a breaking point now. I was a slave, a slave without a master, but that was soon to change in a most dramatic way.
The alarm went off, telling me it was time to rush and get dinner going. I reached over with my left hand to untie my right and gasped out in disbelief when I couldn't reach my other hand. I fought to reach it, prayed to be able to reach the bonds, but, as I lay back into my own trap, I realized I was most helpless and would be that way when my unsuspecting father arrived to find not only no dinner but no sign of his daughter.
I felt my face turn red as I heard his knock on my door. I was about to get caught, and, most likely, get grounded for the rest of my life for the thousandth time. A nineteen year old grounded, how bizzare.
"Daddy," I whimpered, fighting back the tears at the thought of what he was about to find. "Please don't be mad. Okay?"
"What fo. . .?" He asked as the door opened and he stood in the doorway looking at his bound daughter, a shocked, open-mouthed stare on his face.
"Please don't be mad," I moaned, trying to close my legs as his eyes traveled over my body, stopping at the tiny pillow that only hid a small part of my pussy.
With a frown he turned around and walked out the door without saying a word. I wanted to call after him and beg for him to untie me and forget the whole thing. God, I felt like the world's biggest slut to let him see me like this.
Dad walked back into the room, a cardboard box under his right arm, sat on the bed on my left side, sat the box on the floor and produced a black leather blindfold from it. "Mad? about what?" he chuckled, sliding the blindfold down over my head. "You think those ropes shortened on their own?"
I was speechless as I felt him check the ropes on my wrists, then, as I gasped, he pulled me down the bed till my arms were stretched out, unable to even try to reach the knots, I knew I had found my master, whether I wanted him or not.
He reached and pulled the pillow and vibrator away from my body, then, as I gasped even louder, he pulled my legs painfully far apart, tying them off, leaving me more dominated than I had ever dreamed of being. I felt him sit on the bed on my left side, expecting him to take advantage of me.
Quickly I realized how torturing a blindfold could be as I expected his hands to run over my now secured body, but nothing happened for what seemed like several eternities.
"You hate me?" I half-whispered, more to break the long pause than wanting the answer. Yet, not an answer was to be a reward.
I felt his finger play at my left nipple, instantly getting it erect. I arched my back, yelping out as pain gripped me from the nipple he was manhandling between two fingers. "Who owns you?" he asked, as his fingers worked at me.
"You do," I moaned, my body moving about on the bed as he taught me to accept the pains of his workings. "You do, daddy."
"If you want it to stop, just say your name and I will. Okay?"
I nodded my head that I understood as his fingers left me. I knew he was sitting there, looking at my bound body, but what was going through his head? Was he like me, or was I only following in his footsteps? I had found out long ago that he had a "thing" for bondage, but my needs seemed to have been present before that day of learning. Could such things be inherited?
I felt his hand gently running over my breasts, to my stomach, then, as I moaned softly, deep between my spread legs. "I want you as my slave."
"I am yours," I softly spoke, feeling the warmth of his touch as he openly explored my bound body.
"Limits?"
