Vanessa Smith listened incredulously to the words coming from her father's mouth. They seemed so surreal and unbelievable that they immediately sent a frenzy of self-argumentative thoughts careening through her mind.
"You're going to be our entertainment tonight," he had said. "Our little toy."
He spoke these words while one hand held her bicep, the fingers wrapped around her arm with just enough pressure to let her know she shouldn't move, his other hand cupping her cheek, turning her face up toward his. He stared into her eyes as he spoke, his pupils inches from hers, filled with an intensity that covered any lack of conviction she might imagine in his voice. Not that there was any. Not from Keith Smith, a man use to giving orders that were seldom questioned. A man who had spent most of his adult life demanding things and getting them.
Meeting her father's gaze Vanessa felt a combination of emotions surge through her. Mixed in with the uncertainty over what was occurring were sparks of excitement, apprehension and fear. All of this caused her body to tremble slightly, her knees to weaken.
She was a beautiful young woman, just eighteen years old, fresh out of high school and still troubling over what she would be doing with her life. Although college was an option she had decided to take a year off from school before attending, and so was looking for something to fill the time. That was why she was at her father's now, and available for the drama being played out. Her parents had split several years prior, their successful careers making it difficult for them to make the marriage work. Vanessa grew up in her mother's house, visiting her father on the other side of the state regularly. During those visits they had never really gotten close, he was always busy and she'd been a typical teenager, rebellious and more interested in clothes and boys than her father's world. But now, three months after graduation, she had come to see if he could get her a job.
"Nothing elaborate, Daddy," she'd told him. "Just something that might help me figure out what I want to do."
"I'll see what I can find," he'd assured her.
That had been on her first day there, two days previous in reality, but what was rapidly turning into an unimaginable time frame in the world he was taking her to. They had been in his office on the house's first floor on that day, Keith sitting behind his massive desk covered by folders, charts and documents, Vanessa standing in front of the furniture piece, her long legs reaching out from beneath the short denim skirt she wore, her large breasts straining her tight tee-shirt. She had thought on that day that she had felt her father's eyes rolling over her slim body, but had brushed it off as a figment of her imagination, telling herself that he wouldn't do that.
"Thanks, Daddy," she'd smiled, her face radiating with happiness.
She always felt like "Daddy's little girl" when around him and this time was no different. After the discussion in his office she'd taken her bags up to her room on the second floor and gotten settled in.
Her father's house had five bedrooms, only two of them without a private bath, and a large in-ground pool out back. Ever since Mr. Smith had purchased it Vanessa had her own room, her daddy allowing her to decorate it anyway she wanted, which meant it had experienced several changes over the years. Right now it was in a transitional stage between that of a high school girl and a college student. Posters of male actors and rock stars covered the pink and white striped walls. Her bed was covered by a soft pink spread with a few frilly throw pillows laying at the head.
Between that first day and now, when he held her cornered in her room, the two had spent very little time together. Just like always he was constantly busy, on the go, and simply tossed her the occasional greeting on his way out.
But then tonight.
And this.
This completely unexpected turn of events. This change in the way her father was talking to her . . . And the way he was looking at her.
As he stood towering over her his eyes slipped from their grasp of hers to slide down to where her breasts stood out, straining the material of yet another t-shirt. Underneath the garment the pair of fleshy mounds were encased in a bra, its outline evident. As his eyes stared at her chest, rising and falling slightly with her breathing, she felt a mixture of emotions once more roll through her.
She knew who he meant by "us," that was obvious. His buddy, John Larson, was standing only feet away watching the two as they worked through these first moments of the surreal experience. He had come over to the Smith house for a business dinner with her father, after which the two had adjourned to the living room for drinks and further discussion. That was where she'd found them upon her return from a shopping expedition, one that had turned into a fruitless effort to find just the right pair of shoes for a new dress she'd purchased. Politely she had stopped to chat with the two of them for a few minutes before excusing herself and disappearing down the hall to her room. During those minutes she had sensed at least one set of eyes rolling over her again and again, taking in the curves her tight jeans and t-shirt displayed so readily. Then, when she walked away, she felt them locking onto her small ass, tightly encased in the denim. Instinctively she swayed with a slight accent, a move that not only made her ass swing nicely but also caused her flowing brown hair to swish and sway.
Although she somehow understood she was wrong, she did manage to convince herself that it was only John's ogling attentions she sensed and that her father was not guilty of the mental undressing going on.
But now she knew how wrong she had been.
Less than thirty minutes had passed when a tapping on her door made her turn down the stereo and open it. That was when Keith stepped in, pushing her back easily with his determined stride and opening the way for John to follow.
"Da- Daddy?" She whispered, finding her voice finally after hearing his plans.
"That's right, Baby," his eyes rose from her chest to lock with hers once again. "We're all gonna have some fun tonight and you're gonna be the center of attention."
"Bu- But . . . Daddy," she whispered, her voice shaky with her disbelief.
"You heard me," he smirked. "Now go take a shower. We want you fresh."
With these words her father released his grip on her and took a step back. For a moment, one filled by thick tension, they became frozen in place then. Taking a deep breath Vanessa leaned back against the wall, her eyes rolling between the two men and filled with uncertainty. She saw the hungry little smirks they wore, recognized the lust filled glare of their eyes as they studied her body. Reflexively she felt her eyes drop until she was glancing between their crotches, gauging the bulges hidden within their pants. Realizing what she was doing she felt a shockwave of shame race through her and tried to scold herself but found herself unsatisfied with her own reprimands. Still frozen in place, her body resting against the wall's support, her eyes rose back up to look at their faces from beneath the loose strands of tresses which had slipped across her face. She recognized that several different thoughts were bouncing around inside her mind, each of them trying to find its way to the forefront to make itself dominate, but none were quite able to accomplish this. Inside her body, various emotions were mimicking the thoughts.
"Shower," her father's voice suddenly filled her ears.
The authority it carried jerked her body into action and she stepped away from the wall. On shaky legs she moved toward the bathroom. In a near trance-like state she pulled her t-shirt over her head as she walked. Tossing the garment to the floor she reflexively shook her hair out, the long tresses swishing softly. As she reached behind her to undo the bra she caught a reflection in the mirror. In it she saw her father and John standing behind her, their smiles widening as they watched her. The sight of them sent a hot shiver running along her nerves, one that blew hot air across the embers buried within her loins. She felt the coals warming, felt them being kindled into glowing redness and for a second she froze again, the realization of her body's reaction causing her a moment's concern. But then she saw the smile on her father's face beginning to turn into a scowl and knew she better keep going. Pushing the thoughts about what was happening and how it was affecting her away she unhooked her bra. Moments later it joined her shirt on the floor and was soon joined also by her jeans and panties. This last piece of clothing she kind of jerked off quickly and tossed aside as she dove through the bathroom door and headed for the shower, the sense of the two men watching her embarrassing her.
Stepping into the shower she soon stood under the hot water's massaging spray, feeling it cascade over her body. After a couple minutes the soothing sensation of it began to wash away some of her concerns and she nearly forgot what was happening. As she rinsed her hair, the water making the long tresses turn dark, thick and heavy, her mind began to work its way through the shock and surprise.
'What am I doing?' She thought. 'And what is Daddy doing? Where did this come from? What made him think he could get away with it? That she would go along with it?'
These were the first thoughts her mind was able to recognize, the ones born of society's taboos. But they were soon shoved aside. Other, less proper and shy ones, rose up to make themselves acknowledged.
These ones were not so much concerned as to why it was happening, but more with what, in particular, would happen. Would the two men take turns with her, one of them finishing before the other stepped up? Or would they alternate back and forth? Would they only penetrate her pussy? Or would they use her in other ways too?
Standing under the spraying water, her hand running a soapy washcloth over her body, she was suddenly struck by images of their crotches. Images she had collected earlier. Although she had not realized it at the time she now understood that she must have taken a few mental snapshots of these things in the living room since those she'd collected in her bedroom were not the only ones she could remember. The images flashing though her mind's eye caused the embers of her loins to heat up more, she felt her body grow warmer under the shower's spray, felt her nerves tingle with a surge of excitement.
This all brought with it a new emotion, one she had not felt, or at least recognized, until that very moment. One of shame. She could not stop admonishing herself for the growing desire she knew she was feeling at the thought of sleeping with her own father. Not only him, but him and another man at the same time. How could she feel any excitement at such a prospect?
Silently scolding herself she turned a little beneath the shower and that was when she became aware of her audience.
