The following morning, Lucy awoke in her father's bed. She sat up, confused. She was naked and surrounded by books.... what had happened?
A single glance at the open publication beside her was enough to remind her.
Oh yes... Lucy blushed. That.
In the heat of the moment the night before, she'd considered doing those acts with Papa- Papa! How wrong! She felt shame well up inside of her. She truly was a wicked, wicked girl for having thoughts such as those, not to mention for what she did to her body.
You shouldn't play with yourself that way Lucy, she thought. It's so very sinful.
She resolved to go to confession as soon as she could get a chance. She'd ask Papa when he returned.
Wrapping herself in a blanket to guard against the chill, Lucy darted into her own bedroom and dressed for the day. She made her way downstairs, anxious to start breakfast, when she found that breakfast was already on the table.
"Papa! You're home!" she said, astonished.
"I am, dear Lucy," he said, opening his arms to her and drawing her in. Lucy jumped to him and greeted his embrace warmly- oh how she'd missed him! "How was your evening last night?"
Ha had a twinkle in his eye that made Lucy unnerved. He couldn't possibly have seen, could he?
"I missed you, Papa. It's so lonely here without you."
"It seems so," he said. Again, his eyes had a secret.
"What time did you get here?" she asked casually, helping herself to some breakfast.
"About midnight," he said. Lucy froze. "I wanted to go straight to bed, but I didn't want to disturb you."
Lucy could not look at him. He'd seen everything! He must be furious! How many times had he told her those books were sinful, dirty?
Her father got up from his place at the table and stood very close behind her. "If I'd known how you missed me, I promise I'd never have gone away."
"Papa-"
"Yes, my beautiful daughter," he said, drawing her in to another embrace. "I am. Now, I have to do some yard work, and I shan't have time to spend with you until dinner. Please, enjoy your day... but not too much."
He winked at her, and Lucy wanted to die from embarrassment. With that, he left the house.
"Did you enjoy your dinner, father?" Lucy asked that evening as she tidied up.
"Delicious my dear, thank you."
"Well," Lucy said, not knowing what more to say. She was very tongue tied around her father that night... every time she thought of something to say, she suddenly remembered what he must have seen and she blushed with shame and found herself up able to speak. "I should go to bed."
"That's fine, Lucy," her father said. "I'll come say goodnight in a few minutes. I've already lit the fire in your room."
"Thank you, father," she said, kissing him on the cheek and taking her leave. She ascended the stairs in the darkening, tiny house, until she reached her room. She found her matchbook and lit a candle, and was about to undress when she stopped. The images from those books did not leave her head all day, but what had seemed so real last night was now puzzling. Could those sinful, dirty things truly be real? What had aroused her so the night before now made her curious. Had she really read what she thought she did?
Lucy did not even let herself second guess what she was about to do. Instead, she took her candle and darted out of her bedroom and down the hall to her father's room. She stole inside and found the book that had captivated her the night before. She quickly nipped it off the shelf where she'd returned it that morning and ran back to her room.
She set it on her nightstand and undressed. Just as she was slipping her nightgown over her head, her father knocked on her door. He did not wait for her to answer, though- he came right inside.
Hastily pulling her nightgown down, Lucy stepped away from the door until the backs of her legs hit her bed. She sat down on it, nervous for some reason.
"Hello, father," she said, swallowing hard. Her heart was thundering. She so wanted him to leave so she could open that book and explore it some more... besides, she did not want him to find it sitting on her bedside table.
"Lucy," he said, nodding at her. He moved closer, sitting beside her on the bed. "Were you about to retire?"
"Yes," she said, and to prove it she drew her legs up onto the bed and reclined against the pillows. Her heart continued to beat insistently, and she could not help but think about the carnal words from the book sitting only a few feet away. Lucy was so inexperienced that any kind of hint at anything erotic would have aroused her, and she was suddenly introduced to something far more than a hint. Her arousal was undeniable, and the tenacious burning between her thighs was growing more distracting by the second.
Jack watched as his daughter lay back on her bed, the white lace pillows framing her face and her honey blonde hair fanning out around her, the candlelight making her skin golden. She was so beautiful... after what he'd seen the night before, her beauty was no longer a source of pride. Now it was a temptation... and an impossibly strong one at that. He felt his manhood stir, and felt an animalistic need to possess her take over him. Oh, how he loved his Lucy, but this was so much more than that. He wanted to bear her down, taste her, feel her, and make her a woman. He needed to thrust into her roughly, over and over, and feel her writhe underneath him, moaning and screaming. He needed to make her his own, forever, his daughter, his whore, his slave. He needed to break her.
But he loved her... he needed to make her enjoy this, or she would run. Oh, the agony of those two desires... to possess and ravish, or to treat her as a father should? Was there a way of doing both?
