(NOTE: This story contains elements of non-consent.)
It had been a very long day, and Mike was eager to get home. He heaved an enormous sigh of anticipation as he pulled into the driveway, and realized he was feeling something he hadn't in a very long time: contentment. There was stability in his life now, routine, companionship. It had been a rough few years for him, and for his daughter Elizabeth. First a rather contentious divorce that had resulted in split custody of an understandably moody young teenager, and then the death of his wife and her lover in some boating accident in the Caribbean.
Mike had felt very guilty over his secret pleasure at regaining full-time custody of his daughter. But he had missed her seeing her only on alternate weekends so as to keep from disrupting her life too much. Although there was a mourning period, a time during which Elizabeth was so fragile any disagreement or disappointment could set her off, it had been brief. Shelley had not been the most attentive mother, and the two had never been really close. Elizabeth, Mike learned, was mourning more the possibility of a future adult relationship than she was the mother she had lost.
It had taken some time and some adjustment, but he and Elizabeth had settled into a very comfortable routine. Most weeknights Elizabeth came directly home from school and did her homework before preparing dinner, having it ready most usually about the time Mike arrived home from work. He took care of the cooking on the weekends.
Friday nights were pizza night. Both of them took a break--from work, from school, from chores--and just settled in for an evening of quality time.
Although Elizabeth had turned 18 several months ago, she was just as happy as ever to spend most of her free time with her father, and Mike was grateful. She would be graduating high school soon, and although he had hopes she would get into a local college, she applied to several out of state schools as well. Their time together might well be limited and Mike was happy to take any moments they had together.
Perhaps, Mike thought, he should think about dating again. The trouble was, his relationship with Shelley had been pretty rocky for most of the fifteen years they'd been together. They had tried hard to make it work--or at least he had--but it was a risk to start all over again. Still, one day Elizabeth would have her own life and she wouldn't want him to stay alone and lonely.
But that was a thought for another time. Tonight was Friday night, pizza night in the Holtenhauer household, and he was going to enjoy himself.
The house was surprisingly quiet when he entered. Usually Elizabeth would have music on and the faint sounds of it, of her moving around in her room or the living room, would be evident. It was quiet this evening, still, as though no one was home. But she wouldn't have gone anywhere without calling to let him know. Suppressing his immediate spark of concern, he headed upstairs.
"Lizzie, are you up here?"
"In here, Dad," she called. She sounded strained, he thought, as if she were trying to avoid telling him unpleasant news. He tapped briefly on her bedroom door and then poked his head in.
The sight that greeted him nearly turned his knees to water. Elizabeth was lying on her back, still dressed in her prim school uniform, her wrists tied to her headboard. Mike dashed in without thinking and was brought up short by the metallic click that told him a gun was trained on him and ready to be fired. He hadn't even noticed anyone else in the room, and he spun around when the door slammed behind him.
A man stood there. He was ordinary looking, perhaps even attractive with a crown of tousled blond waves and a dimple in his cheek. And he had a gun trained steadily on Mike, with which he gestured lazily toward a nearby chair.
"Have a seat, Mike."
Mike sat in the chair, his mouth dry as his mind raced with possibilities. None of them were good. He gave a brief moment of thanks that his daughter was still clothed, even as he knew there was no guarantee she would stay that way.
"How do you know my name?" he managed.
"I know a lot about you, Mike. You and Elizabeth here."
"Who are you and what do you want?"
"You can call me Leo," the man said. "And I'm here... to play. I've been watching your daughter for a while. She's very beautiful, isn't she?"
Mike flicked a glance at Elizabeth and back at Leo. "Yes, she is."
That answer seemed safe enough. His daughter was beautiful, with a thick mane of strawberry blond hair, soft brown eyes, and a scattering of freckles that almost begged to be counted.
"I could have had all my fun of course, before you got here," Leo was saying. "Could have been in and out before you were even home--no pun intended, of course." The man flashed a brief grin, and Mike felt his stomach turn. "But then I thought, well, that's just not fair. A girl and her father should have a choice, don't you think?"
Mike exchanged glances with Elizabeth. Her eyes were wide--confused and fearful, but not yet terrified.
"A choice of what?" Mike asked, pleased his voice was staying steady.
"A choice of who gets to be her first fuck, of course."
Mike was on his feet, his fists clenched, before he had even realized it. He had taken a step forward, and it was Elizabeth calling out, "Daddy, don't!" that had him stilling, blinking at the gun pointed directly at his face.
"I'd really rather not shoot anyone today, Mike," said Leo pleasantly. "But your daughter, well, just look at her. Every day she comes straight home, no detours, doesn't she? She doesn't date, either. No fumbling goodnight kisses with the boys from school, no backseat hand jobs. It's not normal, Mike. The girl needs to be fucked. She's ripe for the plucking, and I'd love to be the one to do it, but I thought, Leo, see if her daddy wants dibs."
Mike swallowed hard. Dibs on his daughter? Jesus. There was a choice no father ever wanted to have to make. It shouldn't even be up to him, should it? His daughter wasn't his property. And what a choice. Take his own daughter's virginity or, he assumed, watch a total stranger do it instead.
"So who's it going to be, Mike? Who's going to fuck her tonight?"
"Who is going to rape my daughter, don't you mean?" Mike snarled.
Leo shrugged, as if it didn't matter. "If you like."
"I don't like. I don't like it at all." Mike rose again, but before he could decide what to do, his daughter spoke.
"Daddy," she said in a small voice, "it's okay. Let's just do what he wants."
Mike glanced at Elizabeth, startled. "What? You can't mean that."
"I don't want you to get hurt." Tears shimmered in her eyes and Mike felt his heart break just a little.
