Chapter 16: No Choice

Amy spent all of that Thursday in her classes in a daze. The 14-year-old girl only barely managed to sound normal when she spoke with Elissa. With her other supposed friends, she came across as a total weirdo, and she knew it. But she didn't care. Who the fuck were they, anyway?

When she got home right after school she totally expected her dad to fuck her when she saw his truck in the driveway. She didn't know how to feel about this, but she'd gone inside her house anyway.

It was almost with disappointment that she got to her room without interruption. And when she decided to go onto her computer, she even left the speakers up loud when she started watching some porno movies. That didn't get her dad's attention, either. Amy ended up going to sleep that night with only her dildo to satisfy her.

The next day her dad barely looked at her in the morning. She'd decided to wear one of her sluttiest outfits, too, despite the cold outside: it was the slut-schoolgirl uniform she'd "earned" the previous weekend. This was the first time she'd actually worn it. But Daddy didn't bat an eyelash when he saw her in it.

Maybe the guilt has set in, she worried. Maybe all his talk about controlling her and making her a good slut had been bullshit. If anything this made the girl feel even more confused and vulnerable: she'd accepted her fate the night before and it was almost a relief to do so. Now he was backing off? What kind of sick, twisted mind-game was her dad playing now?

She walked to school in her slutty outfit, and even though she had her coat on over it, she was freezing cold. Winter was in its last throes but could still pack a wallop. The 14-year-old girl was so relieved upon entering her nice, warm school that she didn't think for a moment about removing her coat. Still, she only lasted about five minutes in the hallways wearing her cropped up skirt and tight, slutty shirt before being ordered to the principal's office by some teacher she didn't know.

Amy was sent home at that point. Her attire was deemed "inappropriate" and her dad was called to come pick her up.

Even as he drove her home he didn't speak to her. Amy had no idea what to think. He wasn't angry or upset. He'd just been pulled out of work to come pick her up, and he wasn't even annoyed? Why was he acting so cold? Had he given up on her or something?

Amy stayed inside all night, once again. She slept and masturbated and slept some more into the wee hours. It seemed like whenever her mind began to drift toward full lucidity she would drown out her logical thoughts with dirty little fantasies and get herself off. It was easier than confronting the events of the other night, that was for sure. The girl refused to think about the seriousness of the things her dad had done to her. It was easier to lose herself in demented, horny thoughts instead. But it got harder to do that with her father basically ignoring her.

Had she screwed up or something, or was this just another way for her dad to torment her? The girl struggled to keep those thoughts at bay all night long until finally she fell asleep horny, tired, and confused.

The following day, Saturday morning, Amy was awoken by a stream of cum spraying onto her face. The young teenager couldn't even open her eyes: cum coated both of them. She gasped and whimpered with dreamy delight: her father wasn't ignoring her anymore! When she finally wiped away the cum and blinked her coated eyelids open, she saw him standing above her, looking down at her with a look of disgust on his face. She simply smiled lazily back.

"Wipe that shit off," he snapped. "Take a shower for Christ's sake!" With that he stormed out of her bedroom.

The horny, practically brainwashed girl sat up in her bed and wiped the remaining cum away from her eyes with the back of her hand. Realizing she was alone, the 14-year-old teenager tentatively licked her tongue out at the strings of cum on her hand. She'd never tasted her daddy's semen before, and this realization made the girl come to life. She sat up straight and examined her hand again before greedily licking up and swallowing the rest of her father's jizz. It tasted strange and perverse on her tongue, and for a brief moment she wondered what the hell she was doing. And then thoughts of him fucking her the other night fired back into her brain and she smiled.

Thank God, she thought. The previous two days had worried her, but it was clear now that he intended to keep her as his little whore. He would keep her in line, like he'd explained the other night, keep her from becoming a drugged-out pregnant teenager. He would teach her to be a good little slut. She wouldn't have to worry or feel guilty anymore about anything sexual.

While she showered the young teenager thought about Elissa. It had been days since the two girls had been able to hang out. Maybe today her dad would want her to go over there. Maybe he'd ask her to bring Elissa home or something. Excited by this idea, Amy quickly dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Her father was eating a late breakfast of eggs and toast when she entered. Smiling prettily the teenager chirped, "Morning, Dad! I was thinking of going over to Lessy's today, is that okay?"

"No," he replied through a mouthful of toast. "You can hang out with your friends tomorrow. I need ya today."

Puzzled and a little disappointed, Amy nodded her head and went to the fridge. After grabbing a can of soda she took a seat at the kitchen table across from her dad. She thought about his words for a few minutes before asking, "What do you need me for today, Daddy?"

"I promised my boss you'd clean his basement," he said flatly as if it was no big thing.

Amy's eyes widened. "What? What do you mean?"

He gave her one of his cold, dead stares. "You're going, baby girl, and you'll do a good job too. Hear me?"

"I... yeah," she said softly. After a pause she asked, "How long do you think it will take?"

"Big basement," her father shrugged. "Big mess. I wager it'll take you better part of the day. And like I said you'd better do a good job. If he tells me you slacked off or acted like a bitch you're gonna be in serious trouble."

He began eating again and all Amy could do was stare down at the tabletop and sip her Mountain Dew. She felt incredibly uncomfortable about this. Her dad was acting like it was no big deal but Amy had never done chores for anyone except here, at home! Going to a stranger's to clean a basement? Something strange was going on, and the girl had a sinking suspicion she knew what it was.

After a few more minutes of sitting with her father, Amy was just about to go upstairs to give Elissa a call when he declared, "Alright, grab your shit, we're going."

Amy got up slowly and put her coat on. A few minutes later she was sitting in her father's truck. He didn't say anything to her during the drive out of the city. She noticed they were heading toward one of the suburbs, possibly Twinsburg. As they drove in silence Amy wondered what was happening. The logical, intelligent part of her mind had a pretty damned good idea, but the new Amy, the Amy her dad had created—had liberated—a few nights before refused to accept it. There was no way her father would... do that... to her. She was a slut, yes, but wasn't he her slut? Hadn't he said that several times? Hadn't that been the reason she'd been "punished"?

After fifteen minutes or so the girl couldn't remain quiet anymore.

"Is this boss... that one guy? The fat guy?"

"Yep," her father grumbled.

"Oh," she said softly.

Nothing else was said until they pulled into a nice subdivision a few miles outside of Cleveland. It amazed Amy how much nicer everything was out here. The residential streets were wide and lined with big, pretty trees. Expensive cars were in every driveway, and each house was large, the average being at least twice as big as her own, and the yards—including the front yards—seemed huge. Maybe someday, she hoped, she could live out here. She hated the oppressive feeling of the city where everything was dirty and old and crammed together. She couldn't imagine living in a place so fresh and pretty.

They pulled into a driveway of one of the larger style homes and after her dad put his truck in park he turned to her.

"Here's the deal," he said sternly. "This is my boss, understand? You do everything he says. I don't wanna find out you refused to do a chore because you thought it was too hard or too dirty. I find out you tried to pull some of your shit to get out of work, I'm gonna be pissed. And I mean really pissed, girl, ya got it?"

She nodded softly. She was biting her lower lip and staring into her lap. Truth was, he didn't have to warn her. If all that was required today was hard work cleaning a basement, she'd be so relieved that she'd work harder than she ever had. But she even the intentionally naive and submissive personality she'd developed a few nights before could read between the lines.

Amy had thought she was ready for anything after what her father had done to her that night. She'd even fantasized about it. The girl had gone to school charged-up sexually; she'd spent hours masturbating and wishing her father would come down to her bedroom to take her, or tie her up again, or do any number of things. But to be passed off to some boss of his like some cheap prostitute? The idea had never entered her head. And what's more, the idea didn't turn her on in the slightest.

The idea of her father being her pimp didn't make her horny. It made her feel cheap and worthless. She could only hope that somehow she was wrong about this visit to his boss' house.

"Stay here a minute," he said as she pondered these things.

She watched him through the windshield as he walked up a nice, shrub-lined walkway to the front door of the house. A moment later the door opened. Amy couldn't see who her dad was talking to from this vantage point, nor could she hear what he was saying. After a minute he came back to the truck and opened the passenger side door.

"Alright," he said to her. "Get out."

Nervously she stepped down out of the cab. She stood before her father and waited. Part of her wanted to say something to him, but she was too timid to do so. He'd broken her willful teenage defiance even though she needed it now more than ever. He was staring down at her as he said ominously, "I'll be back by five. Be good. Remember that this is my boss. This is important."

With that, he walked around the front of the truck and moments later was pulling back out of the driveway.

Taking a deep breath, Amy walked up to the porch with her small purse gripped tightly in her hands. She wished she had worn clothes more suitable for doing chores just then, and for more than one reason. Her outfit was typical for the girl: a pair of tight, pale green Capri pants and a sheer cotton sweater. The sweater was actually two pieces of clothing, though. The first layer was a dark green tank-top with a scoop neckline that showed a bit of her adolescent cleavage; the second layer was a light, sheer cotton white sweater with long sleeves. The outfit gave her a cute, sexy-innocent look. It was a look Amy wasn't exactly excited to have just now, though.

Why couldn't he have tied me up again or something? the nervous girl wondered as she approached the porch.

When she finally reached it a short, fat man was waiting to greet her. He was only a few inches taller than her and he had a sort of round, well fed look to him she knew must piss off her dad. He was very white-collar, wearing a nice turtleneck sweater and khaki slacks. Mr. Suburban Upper-Middle-Class, Amy thought.

He reached out a small, pudgy hand to her and smiled. "Amy! Welcome, welcome, I'm so glad you agreed to help me out today."

She smiled back shyly and shook his hand. It was cold outside and Amy wanted to get out of the weather right away, even though it meant entering this stranger's house. Quickly she shivered, "H-hi, no problem..."

"Great, great. Come on in, it's freezing out here!"

She followed him into the house. The entryway was large and nice and decorated with an expensive, possibly antique coffee table and a couple of potted plants. She looked around nervously and had to admire the house: it was every bit as impressive inside as it was on the outside. He must make really good money, she figured. Her dad must really hate him—which, of course, begged the question: why had he sent her here?

"We met before, you know," he said to the girl as he helped her with her coat. "Couple months back, before the holidays. Do you remember?"

"Yes," she said softly. "I remember." Her dad had ordered her never to visit him at work again 'dressed like a slut' after that meeting.

"My name's Dennis," he said. "I don't think we were ever formally introduced."

She smiled a little. "I don't think so either," she replied nervously.

"Well then," he said. "Would you like a tour, or do you want to get straight to work?"

Just then Amy's eyes went wide as a large dog charged into the foyer from around the corner. He was a monster! His head was huge and came up almost to her chest, and he was long and hulking and currently barking at the scared girl. She backed up fearfully into the door, slamming into it, as she reeled from the canine's approach.

"Easy, boy!" Dennis said sternly. "Sit, Chillman!"

Amy was trembling in fear but the large dog obeyed its master without question. Suddenly the canine was on its haunches, staring up at the girl with his tongue hanging out from his gigantic mouth.

"It's okay," Dennis assured her. "He's a gentle giant. His name's Chillman, or Chilly for short."

"Wh-what kind of dog is he?" the frightened girl asked. Amy had never liked dogs.

"A Great Dane," Dennis said proudly. "He's a good boy, too. Raised him since he was a pup. He's almost two now. You're not a dog person?"

"N-not really," Amy said, slowly regaining her composure. "I mean, I've never had one. They sort of scare me..."

"Don't let him scare you, he's just a big scaredy-cat at heart. Aren't you boy? That's a good boy, yes you are, yes you are!"

Amy watched with mild disgust as the man pet his giant of a dog and took on a cutsey, stomach-churning voice. What was it with small men and big dogs, anyway?

Finally Dennis looked back up at her. "Well, come on. Why don't we just get started? You don't want to be here all day. Pretty girl like you has better things to do on a Saturday, I imagine."

She followed him and the large dog through the dining room and toward the basement door. As they walked Dennis talked nonstop. He explained how he'd once had the basement organized perfectly, but that over the last few years everything had become chaotic down there. His wife was out of town with their sons, he said, and he'd figured for weeks that this would be the perfect opportunity to get everything back in order. The way he spoke, Amy almost believed he was serious about this, too. He seemed to be a stickler for organization. Perhaps he really had just wanted help and nothing more. After all, she hadn't caught him staring at her inappropriately yet. In fact, he seemed like a nice guy almost. Weird, definitely, but nice.

So maybe Dad isn't hoing me out! the girl thought hopefully.

Dennis put her to work right away in the large, unfinished basement. In the back corner there were stacks of boxes marked "Christmas" and "Easter" and "Halloween", etc.

"Don't let the labels fool you," he explained as he turned on a few light bulbs. "Nothing is where it's supposed to be. Like I said, things have gotten mixed together—I thought you could start by going through these boxes and organizing them properly again."

"Sure," she said. She was beginning to feel comfortable for the first time since she'd arrived.

"I'm going to install some shelving over there," he continued, pointing across the basement. "There are some new unassembled boxes right there you can use for the loose stuff. The most important thing is that you make sure to pack everything securely and in an organized fashion. After you're done we can use the new shelves to store the more important stuff."

"Sounds good," she said shyly, feeling relieved.

For the next hour Amy worked hard. It wasn't an easy job, she realized right away. Some of the boxes were stacked pretty high and she was forced to go up on her tippy-toes to get to them, and more than once she'd almost fallen over trying to do so. Also, the boxes were a mess, just as Dennis had said. She found Halloween decorations mixed in with Christmas lights; plastic Easter eggs mixed in with children's toys, that sort of thing.

The sound of Dennis' drill filled the basement, drowning out the annoying Country music he'd put on. Chilly, the Great Dane, occasionally walked over and observed her at work, but he didn't bother her. Mostly the teenage girl just got lost in the task at hand and time seemed to slip by. It was a total relief, actually, to do this work. She was working so hard she didn't have time to worry about her father's motivations or her own deep, somewhat suppressed shame and humiliation at what he'd done to her. All she could think about was which item went in which box.

Eventually she was bending over a stack of unsorted boxes, trying her best to reach a folded up, unused one in the back. She stretched her arm as far as she could and just barely touched it. Finally she got her hand on it and pulled back triumphantly, bringing the folded up box out with her. To her surprise she stumbled backwards into Dennis.

"Oops, sorry," she said breathlessly. She hadn't heard him approach: she'd been lost in the work she'd been doing.

For the first time since she'd arrived he was staring at her with that look she'd been afraid of, the look guys gave her when they were picturing her naked or something. She looked away in embarrassment and grabbed the tape gun. Pretending he wasn't still looking at her she got down to her knees and began to assemble the cardboard box.

"Good job so far," he told her. "I've almost got the first set of shelves up. When I'm done are you hungry for lunch?"

"Sure," she replied quietly, not looking up at him as she worked. Her back was to him and she could feel his eyes on her butt. It made her nervous.

"I like your outfit," he said just then. "What are those pants you're wearing? I see lots of women wear them nowadays."

"Capri's," she said softly as she taped up the box. She could feel him getting closer to her and she began to tremble.

"I like how they show off your calves," he said. "It's a really nice look. You've got pretty calves, did you know that?"

She didn't know how to respond, so rather than speak she tried to ignore him. Go away, she thought. Turn around and go back to work!

Instead she suddenly felt his hand gently rub her butt. The sudden contact startled her and she quickly spun around, stumbling backwards until she landed on her ass. She scrambled backwards and away from him, her eyes wide with fear. He was on one knee and was staring at her in annoyance.

"Please," she said frantically, "don't do that!"

Now he looked pissed off. "Look, what's your problem?" he asked as though grabbing her butt was a perfectly normal thing for a grown man to do to a 14-year-old girl. What had her father told him about her, she wondered for the hundredth time this morning? Had her daddy promised him something, or was this guy just a big perverted jerk?

"J-just... please, don't touch me again," she said quietly as she stared at him with wide, fearful eyes.

He stood up. "Look," he declared angrily. "If you're going to be a bitch, then I don't think I need your help. If there's one thing I can't stand it's a stuck up little brat who thinks she's too cool for school. I'm calling your father."

"No!" she cried out as he turned and began to walk away.

He stopped. Looking back over his round shoulder he asked, "What?"

The red headed teenager was biting her lower lip and trembling from head to toe. "Please don't call my dad," she pleaded softly. "I... I didn't mean to be a bitch. I was just... surprised. That's all."

He turned around to face her, now. She was staring at him with pleading eyes and was breathing heavily with fear. She knew her dad had been serious when he'd told her what the consequences would be if she didn't "do a good job". And he'd specifically told her not to be a "bitch".

It was obvious to her now that her dad had, in fact, promised her to this guy. Why would he do that? Why would he treat her like a prostitute? It didn't matter, she thought. It was clear now that her dad didn't care about her at all. Everything he'd said about wanting to protect her, to make her a "good" slut so that she wouldn't end up diseased or pregnant or whatever, had been bullshit. Obviously she was nothing more than tits and pussy to him. He clearly didn't see her as his daughter. He saw her as his whore.

For the first time ever Amy felt like an unloved piece of property. But what could she do about it? Refuse to do whatever he dad had promised this man? Amy was positive that if she did refuse she'd be punished severely upon returning home, if she was even allowed to come home. And so she had no choice.

"Get up," Dennis ordered her calmly. "Get over here."

Slowly, Amy pushed herself up from the hard concrete floor and approached the short round man. When she got within a few feet of him she stopped and stared down at her feet. She could feel him grow close to her, and she cringed when his hand gently stroked her long red hair.

"You're a very pretty girl," he said softly. "I'm beginning to think that a pretty thing like you could spend her time better than sorting through boxes. What do you think?"

She tensed when his other hand reached around her, then, and firmly gripped her butt. She felt him squeeze it harshly and then began to rub it, just as the hand stroking her hair slid down her neck and began to cup her right breast through her top. She wringed her hands nervously as she endured his groping. This obviously wasn't the first time a guy had roamed his hands over her body, but she couldn't stand the fact it was being done against her will and that she really had no choice but to endure it. She fought away tears as he more boldly molested her, sliding both hands down her sides now, and then up under her tight shirt. They made contact with her bra and squeezed her tits harshly at she gasped at the pain.

"You like this?" he breathed as his hand squeezed her tits. He was using his thumbs to rub her nipples and, against her will, they had grown hard under her bra.

She didn't respond and he didn't seem to care. "Lift up your arms," he said.

Stifling away another whimper, Amy nervously obeyed. When her arms were stretched up over her head she felt Dennis pull both her tops up at once. When they were free the cold basement air chilled her. She still had her bra on but she knew she'd lose that soon, too. She heard Dennis toss her clothing to the side and felt him return his hands to her smooth, soft flesh.

"Damn, you've got a great body," he whispered. His hands went around her back a moment later and she was surprised at how quickly he had her bra unhooked. He pulled the garment forward, down her arms, and let gravity drop it to the floor. Amy remained motionless with her arms limp at her sides.

Suddenly he was leaning down and licking her left breast. She gasped at the feeling of his slobbering tongue on her tit, and felt her legs began to wobble. She didn't want to enjoy this—being used like some purchased piece of meat—but having her nipples licked was one of her biggest turn-ons. And he did just that, suckling on her small pink nipple until her next gasp was more from pleasure than fear.

He gave her other breast the same treatment, causing the girl to feel woozy and tingly all over. To her surprise he then began to slowly kiss down her body. He went down to his knees and placed his hands on her hips and began to kiss her soft, sensitive tummy. It almost tickled but it didn't: it felt good, actually. Before she realized what she was doing her hands softly gripped his shoulders to steady herself.