I watched my eighteen year old daughter, Bonnie, as she left our living room to carry out my instructions. As she walked away, I could easily make out the hand prints on her ass from the spanking she'd just received. Naked, and carrying her panties in her hand, I watched her disappear up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom. There, she was supposed to deposit her wet panties on my bed, then go to her bathroom and take a shower. Once she was prepared as I directed and ready for bed, she was to call me so I could tuck her in, just like I used to do so many years ago when she was little.
Of course, it wasn't going to be that straightforward. We both knew there was nothing simple about the decision she had to make. But, it was her own actions and her own words that asked for this – all of it. I was only doing what she'd dreamed and fantasized about.
While she showered, washed her hair and shaved her legs, I'm sure her mind would be going a hundred miles per hour thinking about the talk we had, her spanking, and if she really wanted to experience the feelings she wrote about in her story. It could change things forever between us, I'm sure she knew it, but, if her desire to be a submissive exhibitionist was as great as it appeared, it could also bring her more pleasure than she could ever dream about.
I can just image what was going through her head – having been made to strip in front of me, lie over my lap and be spanked like a little girl. If that wasn't bad enough, I'd pushed her legs apart and opened her up from behind so I could see and touch her. I even remarked on how beautiful she was back there so she'd know without any doubt I was seeing her completely and entirely exposed.
The rush I got from touching my daughter's sex and bringing her to orgasm as she lie over my lap was incredible. She took the spanking well and allowed herself to be exposed and touched, so, I felt masturbating her was not only a reward for being good, but, it also helped set the tone for what was to come.
But, my plan was reaching a critical point. Once Bonnie was out of the shower and in bed, I'd go into her bedroom to tuck her in for the night, and I'd ask her to give me the answer to the question I'd asked her earlier. And that was: did she want an opportunity to safely and fully experience her fantasies of exhibitionism, submission and humiliation. If she did, I offered to do it for a month, with several conditions.
It was a one time offer. But, after finding all those pictures and stories on her laptop, and then reading the story she wrote about me and her, I was almost confident she was going to go for it. After all, being offered the chance to live out your dreams and fantasies in a safe, controlled environment was more than anyone could ever hope for.
And, as part of our little talk before her spanking, I laid out my non-negotiable conditions clearly, and they should have left little doubt in her mind that if she chose to accept my offer, she would spend the next month living the life of an exhibitionist, and she would realize her dreams of being submissive. The humiliation part would be harder for me to pull off, but I had some ideas on how I could sexually humiliate her in ways I could control. So, if she wanted to be humiliated, I could do that, too.
I knew I had some time while she was in the shower, so I picked up the pillows I used during the spanking, put the chair away and tidied up the living room and the kitchen. I wanted to make sure she couldn't see me when she came out of the bathroom, so, once I was done downstairs, I went into my own bedroom and closed the door over, leaving it just partway open.
The last thing I wanted was to have her call me into her bedroom when she was ready to be tucked in and have a hard-on. So, I turned the TV on and listed to the cable news while I went through the unopened mail on my desk and sorted through the things to keep, and, the things to throw away.
Along the way, I heard the shower water turn off, and then the unmistakable sound of her hair dryer a few minutes later. I stopped to wonder if she'd trimmed her pussy hair, maybe even deciding to shave it off, but not wanting my hard-on to come back, I tried not to think about her pussy hair and consumed myself in the mail, and listening to the news in the background.
I stopped what I was doing with the mail and was watching a news report about a bank robbery and the ensuing police chase when I heard Bonnie call out to me, saying, "Daddy, I'm ready for bed."
I was still in my t-shirt and boxers, and thankfully, my hard-on had subsided. So, taking a deep breath, I turned the TV off and walked across the hall to my daughter's bedroom.
As I entered Bonnie's bedroom, the lights were on, her room was picked up and she was in bed. Her hair was dry and brushed, and I could smell the pleasing aroma of her shampoo in the room. She'd pulled the sheet up to her chest, and it lay just above the swell of her teenage breasts, conveniently covering her almost to the neck. She looked like the vision of sweetness lying there, and as she looked up at me, I smiled and sat down on the side of her bed.
"Sweetheart," I began, "I'm not going to apologize for spanking you. You had that coming. And, I'm not going to apologize for looking at you the way I did. You've teased me way too many times for me to say I was sorry for wanting to look."
Bonnie nodded her head, as if she agreed with me on those two points. "I will apologize for touching your vagina, though." I added. "I could have helped relieve the sting on your bottom without touching you there, so for that, I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Daddy." She replied. "I didn't mind, and, uh........ I think it helped me get over the sting of the spanking."
"Alright." I answered. Then looking up into my daughter's eyes, I asked the question we both knew was coming, saying, "Did you think about my offer? The thirty days?"
Bonnie nodded her head and said, "Yes." Her lower lip quivered a little and she looked away from me.
"So," I replied, "what's your answer. Do you want to do it, or not?"
Bonnie's eyes began to tear up as she looked back at me. With her not saying anything, I could tell she was having a difficult time answering. Trying to make it easier for her, I told her she could just say 'Yes' or 'No'.
"Daddy," she said, sniffling, "The truth is I want to say 'Yes', but, I don't want you to think your daughter's a slut if I do." Then pausing for a moment, she continued, saying, "I mean, at the end of the thirty days, am I still going to be your daughter and will you still love me like before?"
"Sweetheart," I replied, "you don't ever have to worry about that. I'm never going to stop loving you like I always have, and nothing will ever change that – not the pictures, not the stories, not the thirty days – nothing will ever make me love you less."
"Bonnie," I continued, "please understand me, here. I'm making you this offer of the thirty days because I love you, and if you really want to do these things – the things in those stories - it would be much safer to do them with me, rather than with someone else – someone who won't watch out for you like I will."
Almost instantly after hearing my response, Bonnie reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes.
"And the sex part?" My daughter asked. "Would we be having sex? You and me?"
