Olivia's Obsession

*** This story is a slower burn than most of my other ones. I have had several people ask me to take more time developing characters and story lines. I look forward to your feedback on how I did. This is the origin story of a woman with a distant father who never gave his daughter the love and affection she so desperately needed. She grew up trying anything and everything to get his attention. What could go wrong? ***

My name is Olivia. Most people I meet me, are instantly jealous of me. Nature blessed me in many ways. I am not just attractive, I am pretty, in that way that models and lead actresses are pretty. As icing on the cake, I am sexy as hell. I am tall, at 5'10", with long lean, muscular legs and a butt that a Kardasian would be jealous of. I am not overly busty, but my 36D tits are perfect. They are not just perfect for my body proportions, they are physically perfect, in shape, how they sit on my chest, and the placement of my pert, rose colored nipples. That is not my egotistic assessment, that is actually how a Plastic Surgeon that I was fucking, described them. In fact, I have had many men, and many women even, tell me how perfect my body is, and how badly they desire me.

All of these jealous people assume that being blessed in these ways, I would be very successful and able to get anything and anyone I desired. Oh, how badly I wish this was true. As beautiful as I am and how perfect my body is, my ego is a shattered mess. All of my life, the one thing I wanted... no NEEDED... was the love of my distant and unloving father. And that is the one thing I have never been able to get. It is the end of a race I have never been able to reach... but one that I will run myself into the ground, if there is even the slightest chance of winning this prize.

My mother left us when I was very young. I don't even remember her, but I am told by many people that knew her, that I inherited my body and looks from her. I wouldn't know because after she left us, she never made contact, as far as I am aware. So, with my mother out of our lives, my father became the center of my universe. Unfortunately, everything else but me, was the center of my father's universe. In fact, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to even enter his universe.

And try hard I did. I tried everything to become even the faintest star in my father's universe. As I think back on all of the things I did to get his attention, I am ashamed to my very core. Yet even as ashamed as it makes me feel, I realize that I would do it all over again, and even more shameful things, for just the smallest chance of getting his attention.

First, I tried to make him proud. I studied very hard and became an ace student. I was active in sports and was a star athlete. I also acted in and once starred in my school's theatrical productions. I even ran for class office and represented my senior class as the President. None of that seemed to work. My father never came to any of my events, not even those that I was prominently featured in, like when I starred in the class musical or ran in the state track championships. He didn't even come to my graduation, for God's sake. I was heartbroken and desperate for his love and attention.

When being the best daughter I could didn't work, I tried the opposite extreme. I dropped my plans to attend college. I started liberally taking recreational drugs. And I started dressing and acting like the biggest whore I could. I paraded an endless line of men into our house and was as loud as possible when we fucked in my room, to make sure there was no doubt in my father's mind, what his little girl was up to. I thought for sure this would get his attention and make him face me about the degenerate downward spiral my life was taking. Instead, it seemed to free him from any sense of need to "protect" me from his own social life.

He used to disappear overnight, and sometimes days at a time. I knew he was with one of his many women. If it is one thing my father is interested in, it is women, and lots of them. He is a very handsome man and in amazing shape, so I am not surprised that he never lacks for female companionship. However, until I started bringing my depravity into our house, he had always kept that part of his life separate and away from me. Now, it is like he is trying to rub it in my face, that any other girl, in fact every other girl besides me, is worth his attention.

I don't know why this bothered me more than all of the other things I suffered throughout my whole life. I mean, I had never thought of him in a sexual way, so there should be no reason for me to feel jealous of all these other girls that he is fucking, right? So then why the FUCK do I envy them so badly? Is it because even though he just wants them for sex, at least he WANTS them? How desperately I have needed him to want ME, even the slightest amount. And these girls get my most sacred prize, for the small price of their bodies, and maybe their self-respect.

"Self-respect???" I laugh as I think this. I can't remember the last time I respected myself, so I guess that is a very small price to pay, to get my father to even fucking LOOK at me, like he wants me. As for my body, in a way, I have already been using my body, and use of it by MANY men, to get his attention already. So, why would it be such a stretch to take out the middleman... well, middle-MEN, to get what I so badly desire? You would be surprised to discover how easy it is to convince yourself of things, when you are desperate and so lacking in confidence.

The idea formed in my head that to get my father's attention, I needed to be more than just a whore, I needed to be HIS whore. Even if it doesn't last, the rare moments of feeling his love and desire, will be enough to justify whatever it costs me in self-respect or emotional stability. And if by chance, this magically changes our relationship, and he can finally SEE me and appreciate me, these will be small prices to pay. So, with this vague concept in my head, I start to develop my plan to become irresistible to him.

With a plan to focus on, I fall back on my forgotten abilities as a relentless student. I begin to research incest and father-daughter sexual relationships. I quickly discover that there is a LOT of porn online, focused on this topic. I am flabbergasted by the sheer volume and ready availability of porn on this topic. I never really gave it much thought, but generally thought it was wrong and taboo. However, it seems that shows like Game of Thrones and some other recent ones, have started to pull the stigma away from such relationships.

As with anything, the more I watch it, the more "normal" it becomes in my mind. It is very easy to focus on the attractive sexy people and what they are doing to each other, and let slip from your mind the small detail that they are mother and son, or brother and sister, or even father and daughter... I realize just how much this small detail has slipped from my mind, as I discover that my hand found its way under my skirt and is rubbing my CLEARLY very wet pussy, as I am watching a particularly arousing scene of a father plowing his cock into his daughter. He has her bent over the couch, in a living room very much like the one in our house. I start to think of it actually being our house... our couch... my pussy... MY father.

"Oh, my GODDDDD!" I surprise myself by screaming out loud, as I bring myself to an overpowering orgasm. When I say "overpowering", I am not saying it lightly. It is as if that orgasm exploded my previously held ideas about the world and about myself. I knew in that moment, that what I need more than anything I ever needed or wanted, is to be that girl bent over the couch... having MY father pounding deep into my pussy... and being desired by my father as much as that girl is being desired by hers. It is all I can think about now. In fact, every time I look at my father now, I yearn for him to be inside me... to take me... to OWN me.

Now that I am fixated on my father sexually, I see him in all new ways. The strong hands and arms that I used to fantasize about feeling wrapped tightly around me in a loving hug, I now long to have them holding me down... prying my thighs apart... grabbing my wrists and holding my arms above my head. His mouth, which I longed to have kiss me lovingly, now all I want is to feel it crushing my lips, as his tongue pushes into my mouth... sucking on my sensitive, erect nipples... BITING them. And that bulge in the crotch of his pants that I have noticed with embarrassment in the past, now I see as the promise of a large cock that I need to feel inside me... in my mouth... in my hands... in my pussy... and in any other place he wishes to put it.

It is that bulge in his pants, that is the hardest to ignore. How did I never realize how fucking BIG that thing is??? And how did I never realize just how often he had it??? Either he has a very, very large cock or he is hard a LOT. I start to pay closer attention to the shape of it. Sometimes it is full and tented. Other times, I can see the outline of his cock down the leg of his pants, which makes me wonder if he wears boxer shorts or nothing at all? I palm my forehead when I realize that I do the laundry, and I never realized that he almost never has underwear in the laundry. That mystery solved, now I can't get my mind off that cock hanging loose in his pants, obviously large enough for me to see such a clear outline of it, running quite a way down his thigh.

The sudden unnatural silence in the house, makes me look up from the bulge that had me in a hypnotic trance. I have to stop myself from audibly gasping, when I realize that my father is looking at me, obviously aware that I was just ogling his cock. My face flushes with embarrassment, when I see the big smile on his face. Then it flushes in anger, when I realize that it is the first time, he has ever smiled at me, in a satisfied way. No A's in school or medals in track, ever brought such a smile to his face. My anger peaks and then fizzles, as it gives way to a new and unexpected desire to see that smile again.

Then overcome by the embarrassment of being caught leering at my father's cock, and the unexplainable arousal I am suddenly feeling, my mind shuts down. I have no idea what to say to my father. I have no idea if I can even speak, let alone form a coherent thought. I feel like a deer caught in headlights. I do the only thing I can. I literally run out of the room and to my bedroom. Slamming the door behind me, without a moment's thought, I push my skirt over my hips, pull my thong aside with one hand, and start to feverishly finger fuck my very wet pussy with my other hand. Almost immediately wave after wave of electric pleasure washes through me. It is like my orgasms keep building higher and higher, stronger and stronger. It is too much... but at the same time, it is not enough. I realize in that moment, that I will never truly feel fully satisfied, until I feel myself cum around my father's cock.

As I become more focused on my need to feel my father's cock inside me, it occurs to me that I should study the girls who ARE getting my father's cock. As I think about them, I get jealous as FUCK, and wonder what they have that I don't. Well, for starters, my father's cock... But that is not something I can copy. It is the end not the means. The more I think about the other women, the more I see how different they all are. They are short and tall, blonde, brunette, and red headed, busty and flat chested, petite butts and full round butts, professional women and airheaded bimbos. Just as I frustrate myself thinking that they share nothing in common, an inkling of a thought occurs to me. They are all overtly sexual women, but always kind of deferential to my father. Submissive, I think people would describe the way they are toward my father.

Is that what he likes in a woman? Does he like a woman to be submissive and subservient to him? Is it a power thing or does this quality in women just make them work harder to please him? Maybe it is a combination of both. I guess that is why he has never been interested in me. I have always prided myself on my strength and determination. I never shy away from a challenge, and I usually want to prove that I am right or the smartest one in the room. Simply put, I have been the exact opposite of what my father desires. Fear flashes through my mind, as I wonder if this is something I can't change about myself. Not for a second, do I consider if this is something I want to change about myself. I am so far down this rabbit hole, that I know I will do anything, say anything to become the kind of woman that my father desires.

To unlock my inner submissive self, I go back to the internet, to research submission and Dominance. How did I never realize how much porn there is on this topic??? I quickly learn that Dominance and submission are often linked with bondage, sadism, and masochism. In fact, there is a whole realm of topics in the BDSM category of fetishes. After watching a wide range of videos on these topics, I realize that the idea of being tied up and used like a fuck toy, arouses me very much. I also realize that although I tend to be "Dominant" in social situations, the idea of being sexually submissive, and serving others sexually, is also very exciting to me. However, I am conflicted about the whole Sadist-masochist thing. I am excited by the idea of spanking and light pain to my breasts and maybe even my pussy, but some of the horrible things I see in some of the videos, scare me and I know I could never engage in them.

Realizing that I can't just put on a leather corset, kneel at my father's feet, and present myself for his pleasure, I have to come up with subtler ways to show my submission to my father. The easiest way is to just go out of my way to get things for him or offer to do things for him. It is easy for him to see the difference in me, since before I never did such things. Although I always stressed about getting his approval, I realize that I was maybe a little afraid of interacting with him at home. Maybe I was afraid of screwing up and disappointing him, so I minimized the chances of that happening around the house. The reason doesn't really matter, I realize. The fact is, I have not been the caring, supportive daughter, I should have been. Without my mother in the picture, I should have picked up more of her role. Although I did the household chores and cooked, etc., I saw these as chores and he must have realized that I never liked or wanted to do them, which he probably interpreted as me not I wanting to them or me not enjoying taking care of him.

In addition to going out of my way to see what I can do for my father, I start to look down and stand in such a way that is less defiant, less strong-willed. It is hard to describe, it is more of an attitude than a physical thing. However, the more submissive or subservient I act, the more submissive and subservient, I actually feel like I am becoming. I am not sure if my father consciously realizes the change in me, but I do see him smiling more at me during our interactions. These smiles make my heart race each time and must be reenforcing my brains connection with this behavior. Some of the changes in my behavior are so subtle, that I am not even fully aware of the changes. Then others, are so blatantly out of character for me, that I can't help noticing, nor can my father.

As I kneel down at my father's feet, to ask him if I can bring him a drink, I realize that my brain must have made just such a change in my behavior. I look up at my father, as he sits in his chair, and I can see the wheels turning in his head, as a broad grin spreads across his face. I can't stop my face from blushing BRIGHT red, and I immediately look down, to hide the sudden excitement I feel from making such a submissive gesture toward my father. However, my father sees all of this and seems to instinctively understand what it means about me and about our evolving relationship.

"You look good down there, Olivia. You look right down there. You like being down there, don't you, O?" Although he said the last part as a question, I understand that it was more of a statement about me than a real question. The idea does excite me greatly, and his use of my nickname, that he hasn't used since I was young, sends a thrill through my heart. He is right, I do like being down here at his feet. I don't realize that I am nodding yes, until I feel his hands on my chin, tilting my face up to look at him, while telling me, "Say it O. Tell me that you enjoy kneeling at my feet. Tell me that you look RIGHT down there. Tell me it FEELS right to be down there."

I am not sure if it was all of the videos I watched, to prepare myself for this role, or if it is my natural response, but as I look up at him shyly, I say, "Yes, Sir... I do enjoy kneeling before you... I do feel right down here... I feel like I belong down here... Sir."

"Good... good girl... I can see how much it excites you to be a good girl for Daddy..."

"Oh my GOD," I think to myself as electric shocks of pleasure shoot ALL trough my body. Hearing his words and realizing how badly I need to hear them... how badly I need to continue hearing them... and that there is NOTHING I won't do to hear them again...

The feeling of his fingers tracing over my cheek is intoxicating. The loving way he pushes the stray lock of my hair out of my eye, makes me feel more loved in that instant, than in my entire life with him. I don't even realize that I moaned out loud, until I hear it myself. I look up, fear in my eyes, wondering if I broke the magic of this moment.

He alleviates my fear, by patting me lovingly on the head, and smiling, as he tells me, "It's OK little one. It is good that you feel pleasure in realizing who you are... what you are... You want Daddy to help you discover who you are... WHAT you are?"

In almost a whisper, I answer him, "yes... yes Daddy.... Please..."

"Good... Good girl... show me you are serious about this..." He coos, and then in a whiplash change of tone, he commands me, "Get off your butt! Kneel properly! Keep your posture straight, shoulders up, chest out, head bowed slightly!"

I am stunned for a second, but immediately react to his commands. I didn't realize that I am on my knees, but I am sitting back on my calves and my whole body was sagged in on myself. Remembering the videos that I have been watching, I immediately straightened my legs, force my shoulders up and my chest out. I am not sure what to do with my hands, so I put them behind my back. Although I can see from my father's expression, this is not the correct thing to do with my arms and hands, I can also see that he is impressed with the size of my chest, as it is thrust out more by the position of my arms behind me.

He firmly, but not violently takes my arms in his hands, and lays them down along my sides, in the proper position. Then I feel his hands putting gentle but insistent pressure on my chest, to better align my posture. Then I feel him grab my chin, and align my head to the proper angle, slightly down, just enough to clearly show my submission to him. When he has me posed just right, he tells me, "Feel what this is like. Remember it. This is how you will present yourself to me from now on. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I answer immediately, and I know in my very soul that this is exactly how I want to present myself to him forever.

"I am glad that you answered so quickly and so determinedly, but do you truly know what it means to "present" yourself to me?" He asks. Before I have a chance to answer, he clarifies, "It means that you are giving yourself to me completely. When I say completely, I mean all of you... heart, mind, soul, and... body... So, I will ask you one final time. Do you present yourself to me?"