This is a story that involves a father and daughter. A vulnerable daughter is taken advantage of by her domineering father. This story's purpose is fantasy, and is fictional. If this type of story doesn't interest you, then please don't read. I am working on chapter two and will be adding more characters. I do not condone this behavior.
As always, please rate, add comments, and send messages for story ideas. I will always respond.
Hi, my name is Kerri, and this is a story of how my life changed. I come from a good family who provided a great upbringing in a well-to-do suburb of New York. My mother, Beth, was a stay-at-home mom, while my father, Sam, worked his way up the corporate ladder. My father's career kept him away from home but he provided us a great living. Growing up, I went to private schools and then attended Columbia College, graduating with a master's degree in business administration. My father paid my full tuition so I would not be burdened with student loans for the rest of my life. I had never needed or wanted for anything. My parents got along for the most part. Most of their disagreements centered on my father going away for business trips, which he would counter with my mother's willingness to spend the money he earned. I did not understand my mother's issues with my father when I was younger, but being an adult now, I believe they revolved around the presumed affairs he may have been having while away from home.
During high school and college, I did not get into any trouble. I was focused on my schoolwork. My parents had high expectations for me to be at the top of my class in every subject. I was also on the swim team in high school, which added to the demands my parents had for me. My father invested in my abilities by hiring private coaches and putting pressure on me to destroy all competition. I did not have much free time during high school, but I had a small friend group of like-minded girls who had the same demands as me growing up. After high school, my friends and I went to different colleges, so it was like starting over. During my college years, my father escalated his interest in my life. His demands increased; he had astronomical expectations for me. My father is a very successful businessman and rose to COO in a company he had helped build from the ground up. He would remind me that to be successful, I needed to pay attention to detail, outwork everyone, and focus. So, his interest in my life made me feel important. To me, it meant he saw greatness in me. I returned his interest by using my fear of letting him down as motivation to excel.
I have never been outgoing or the life of the party, so college was awkward for me. I would get panic attacks occasionally, which were embarrassing, so I stayed focused on my studies while graduating at the top of my class. Once I graduated, my father urged me to move back home. I typically listened to my father as he has always had my best interest at heart. Once I moved back home, my father got me an entry-level supervisory position within his company. My father would keep tabs on me and advise me while being overbearing with his demands. My life revolved around work, with no time for private life; I was happy because my father would praise me for how I was able to manage all my tasks. I would bring work projects home to finish most nights while my father would review them when I was done. He would show me where I did well and then offer criticism of where I needed to do better. Even though I expected the criticism, it still bothered me. All I wanted was for him to be proud of me. His approval meant everything to me.
My mother occasionally stepped in, telling me to breathe and live a little. We would argue over her, telling me that I shouldn't follow in my father's footsteps. Then she would start in on my father about being too controlling over me and his demands being too high. I would defend my father, even when I knew my mother was correct. Again, I never wanted to let him down, and loyalty went a long way with my father, and I needed him to know how loyal I was to him. I never argued with my dad, but my mother and I would have knockdown arguments. My mother would end every argument with, "You will learn someday. Your father is not the end all be all that you believe he is." I disagreed with her. To me, he was the most important person in my world.
Now, at twenty-eight years old, I had four years of him molding me into the professional I had become. I was starting to reap the rewards of his relentless guidance. We were at dinner when he told me the company was planning a trip to Las Vegas for an awards banquet, and he put me on the invitation list to go. I noticed my mother's frustration over this, but she said nothing. I was ecstatic about the invite. I have always wanted and needed my father's approval. This was proof that I was gaining it; this meant everything to me.
After dinner, my mother told me we were going for a walk to have a conversation. This typically meant we would disagree over something and end up in an argument. As we walked, my mother asked, "Kerri, are you happy?"
I had to think about her question. I was happy, or at least I thought I was. I had a career and invested much of my life into building my resume and reputation. I did as my father instructed, kept my head down, and outworked everyone. I took advice from people in higher positions and tried to think independently while cherry-picking ideas. It was all paying off, so why wouldn't I be happy? "Yes, mom. I'm happy. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You are young; you haven't lived outside school or work. When was the last time you dated? When was the last time you had drinks with friends? I don't want you to have regrets when you get to my age. You are beautiful and deserve a life outside of work." My mother stood there silently, searching for something in my eyes. She continued, "Please promise me you will stay close to your father on this trip. These are power-hungry men with no boundaries. They think women are at their disposal. Promise me that you will be aware of your surroundings and stay close to your father. And while we are talking about your father, I hope you realize how much he craves power and how ruthless he is. These men all learned their behaviors from him. These are not decent people. They are ruthless, powerful people who think they can do whatever they want without consequence."
I was wrong. My mom wasn't trying to argue with me. She was trying to give me womanly advice. She was right. I hadn't dated in two and a half years, and my last break-up took a toll on me. My ex-boyfriend wanted a traditional wife who didn't work as much as I did. I was madly in love with him, and when he ended our relationship, I became more obsessed with work. Don't get me wrong, guys would ask me out, but I always politely declined. Honestly, I know men find me attractive. I have a pretty face with light brown eyes and full lips. I have tried to keep my body in good shape; I still swim laps daily at home in our pool or at the corporate office, where we have a gym and pool. I am five foot four, with shapely hips and toned legs, which complement my b-cup breasts, and perfectly round ass. I hadn't thought about how little I dated until now. "Mom, I am living. I am only twenty-eight. I will have plenty of time for men in my thirties. Dad told me to focus on work in my twenties and my personal life in my thirties. Don't you see what I can accomplish? I don't want to have to depend on a man for everything. I learned that from you drilling it into my head. Why can't you be happy for me, like Dad is? You taught me well about being careful with men. This is no different than me going somewhere on my own. Plus, who would try anything shady with Dad around?"
My mother looked teary-eyed as she started to speak. "Kerri, I am proud of you. Do not build your happiness around your father's approval. All you have ever done is look for his approval, and I'm afraid you will lose yourself in the process. That's all I wanted to say. And, yes, I am proud of you. Do what you think is best for you. I trust your judgment." My mom hugged me, squeezing me tightly. We walked back to the house and went our separate ways.
Over the next few weeks, I went shopping with my mother for outfits to bring with me on the trip. My mother had been to enough of these functions that she knew better than I did what the appropriate dress would be. It was the first time we did mom-daughter things together since high school. She offered advice on what to watch out for and filled me in on how some men think they can do whatever they want to women. She warned me to be careful and continuously told me to remind people who my father was. She told me she was nervous about me going to Las Vegas because it could be a seedy place and reminded me that I did not have much life experience despite my age. I reassured her that I would be mindful of my surroundings while there.
The day had arrived for my father and me to leave. We flew first class, and my father gave me the rundown of events for the three nights of festivities. He informed me that we should enter and leave the events together. Like my mother, he told me that if anyone got out of line, I should remind them that I was his daughter. All I could think about was how aggressive are these men when both of my parents were warning me and worried about me being taken advantage of. Before I knew it, we were landing. We were staying in the hotel where our banquet was happening, simplifying everything for me. My hotel room was on the 4th floor, and my father had a penthouse suite. My father told me to give him the extra key card that came with my room so he could access me if needed. I liked the fact that he was worried about me. I have always craved his attention. We said our goodbyes, and he told me he would return to get me after getting ready.
We only had a little time to get ready for our first night's event. I quickly showered and wore a cute skirt that hugged my curves and fell perfectly below my knees. My blouse showed what little cleavage the push-up bra allowed me to have, but I noticed I would have to pay attention to make sure it didn't ride up at the event. I didn't want my father to get upset by my belly being exposed. I wore a pair of classy heels for the event, knowing that my feet would be throbbing before the night was over. Luckily, my father is six-foot-two, so wearing heels wouldn't overshadow him. Unbeknownst to me, Dad had let himself in while I was getting ready, startling me as I saw him standing behind me while I put lipstick on. I fumbled the lipstick as it fell into the sink. "Jeez, Dad. A little bit of warning next time. You scared me." As I picked the lipstick up from the sink, I watched my father in the mirror. I saw that he was checking me out as he looked me up and down. I worried that he was disappointed in me and how I dressed or looked. "Is everything OK? Am I dressed appropriately? I can change if you want me to. I should have shown you what I was wearing."
My father smiled at me, "You look great, Kerri. Relax a little. This event is supposed to be fun. It's not often we get to have fun. I was admiring how sexy you look. I mean, I am a guy after all. I should be asking you how I look. I don't want you to be embarrassed going to this with me looking frumpy."
I had to catch my breath before I responded. I couldn't believe my dad just called me sexy and told me he was admiring me. He had never spoken to me like that. In fact, I had never heard him speak of anyone like that, including my mother. I was also taken aback that he was looking for my approval of him. I had always been timid with him; he had always been the most intimidating person I had ever known. I turned around and looked at my father differently for the first time in my life. He wanted my opinion on his appearance, and I had never considered looking at him like this. To me, he had always just been my dad. Now that he had requested my thoughts on him, I understood why my mother was always jealous. He was a good-looking man, even at fifty-eight. He had always kept himself in phenomenal shape and still had a full head of salt and pepper hair. My father had deep, piercing, dark eyes, which made it intimidating for me to keep eye contact with him. However, at this moment, his comments about me, on top of him looking for my approval, had my face flushed and my mind racing. I could not keep eye contact with him. I looked down while telling him, "Dad, you look great. You always look great. You know this, though."
I knew my inability to look at him would disappoint him. What he did next was unexpected. He placed his fingers under my chin, raising my head to face him. He stared at me briefly, which seemed like hours. I had never been as intimidated as I was at this moment. He smiled, then said, "We should get downstairs before people start to wonder what we are up to."
