Chapter 1: Slave-Daddy

"Oh, you've been a very bad Daddy, haven't you?" I smiled to myself as I looked through the recent sites list in the web browser.

I was sitting at my father's desk, in his study, and I hadn't meant to snoop, I was just checking my email, but I'd happened upon the favorites list as I waited for the web page to load. And there it was, "Bound for Glory" neatly bookmarked, and so I'd instantly become more interested in what my dad was doing with his spare time.

It was an odd feeling, seeing pictures of myself naked on my own father's computer.

He hadn't mentioned anything, of course, why would he? This was a great secret, first mine alone, and now apparently ours. Daddy wouldn't have told anyone, certainly not my mom or my brother. How would a man break the news that his 24 year old daughter was a professional Dominatrix?

And that really was the least of it.

My bisexuality was obvious. I was also a prostitute, if you wanted to get technical about it. A porn actress? That too, at least in the sense that I had no qualms about appearing in videos available on the website. I'd graduated from college and found that I could make better money indulging my personal desires than I could working in my so-called chosen profession of journalism. I was attractive, outgoing, and a total bitch ... The perfect combination for punishing bad boys and girls at three hundred dollars an hour.

Bad Daddies too.

I'd formed a production company, web based and popular, called Bound for Glory and with three other girls I'd met in college, we did very well for ourselves. Well enough with photo-sets and downloadable movies that I probably could have given up the scenes, the actual prostitution, but in truth I enjoyed that aspect of it more than anything else. That was the best part for me, being worshipped by strangers, being paid to abuse men and women and exercise power over them. It was intoxicating and addictive and I was very good at it.

My dad seemed to like the lesbian scenes the most, as he had all of the videos I'd done with Katrina, my personal submissive and one of the girls I'd formed BFG with. We'd roomed together in college and gotten along very well, so well that I'd collared her in the traditional sense. Katrina was very much like my spouse, if you wanted to imagine our relationship in such vanilla terms, and we'd done a great many videos and photosets together.

I'd had thoughts of bringing the girl with me on my trip home, to 'come out' with my family and seek their approval. That I hadn't was only due to Katrina's reluctance, not my own, and while I might have demanded it of her to join me, I was content to wait. I'd taken her unwilling into many things that she'd ultimately enjoyed, but this would not be one of them. My disappointment was tempered by the trust that was so vital to our relationship. It would happen soon enough.

My father at least knew about part of it anyway. He'd seen me, obviously, not only playing the BDSM games for profit, but having sex with Katrina and others, men and women who modeled for our website. We had a semi-open relationship, Katrina and I, which most simply meant I enjoyed sex with whomever I desired, but she served only me. She liked that, we both did, and it increased my own pleasure when Katrina watched me with someone else.

I'd hidden it well, I thought, but of course once you're on the internet, you're everywhere and my father hadn't necessarily been looking only for me. One look at his not-so-well hidden computer files told me how long he'd been collecting BDSM stories and photos. He'd found me only because of his fetish, I thought, and my only real question was whether he was Dom or sub. That wasn't too hard to figure out though, not with all the recently opened files and web sites dedicated to FemDom on his computer.

So, in light of this discovery, I did what any good Domme would do ... I emailed him. I gave my father very explicit instructions, so that there could be no mistaking what I was or what I was expecting of him. It was a test, I suppose, to see how far my dad would be willing to go; to find the extent of his perversions ... and mine. I always enjoyed testing the limits, my own and those of others.

I'd never considered incest before, and my father had certainly never abused me. My need to dominate hadn't grown from anything like that, it was just me, and any psychological analysis would have been wasted trying to determine why. I was born dominant. This would be something new for me, and perhaps for him as well, but I had no crystal ball into the man's heart. He could have fantasized about me for years, and I suddenly found myself hoping he had.

Wouldn't that be something? I smiled to myself. The idea that my own parent had lusted after me secretly, and hidden it well enough so I'd never suspected. It gave me a warmth deep in my stomach. It didn't occur to me that such desires might be wrong; I wasn't wired that way. There were very few things I'd found sexually that hadn't pleased me in one form or another and incest would be little different.

It made my nipples hard and my clit ache, wanting to know my father's thoughts, and I turned off his computer confident that I would have my answers soon enough.

"So, what is it you do in Las Vegas now, Susan?" my mom was asking me.

We were sitting at the dinner table, my parents and I, along with my brother James and his recently pregnant wife Cheryl. She wasn't showing yet, but she had that glow and I was happy for the woman. Happy for both of them; we were a very close family and this was our first reunion in over two years.

"I work for a production company," I glanced at her and then looked at my dad openly, just to see his reaction. But he hid his thoughts well and returned my gaze with a friendly smile.

"What's that?" Cheryl asked.

"Part of the entertainment industry," I told her, as if that explained anything. "It's small, but growing."

"Entertainment? Oh, that's nice," Mom nodded.

She was a young forty-something, still very attractive even after raising two kids. A good woman too, very practical with boundless common sense, and she'd been my role model growing up; all of my confidence came from her.

"Is that like movies or something?" Jim asked. He was my younger brother, all of 22 and just out of college. He worked as an assistant station manager for one of the local radio stations.

"Yeah, movies mostly, some personalized services for clients who can afford it," I smiled. "We're rather specialized, oriented towards smaller, more exclusive markets."

"Is there money in that?" my dad asked, seemingly quite serious.

"Pretty good, Dad," I grinned at him. "We do all right."

"It has to be better than working in radio," my brother laughed.

"Well, when you think about your IPO let me take a look at your books," Dad suggested with a little grin.

"You can look at anything you want, Daddy," I laughed, and it was a terrible tease, but I couldn't resist. "You know where to find me."

"I guess I do," he grunted, but his eyes betrayed nothing and I began to understand how he'd hid his passion for me, assuming he had any. I could detect nothing out of the ordinary in him.

"Maybe we'll come down there sometime and visit you," Mom smiled at me. "You can show us what it is you do, Susan."

"Uh..." I had to giggle at that, a small nervous one and I was nodding.

"Say, this roast is really good tonight," Dad said, changing the subject without batting an eye. It was exactly the sort of thing he'd say and it seemed out of place not at all. I had to admire his skill at deflecting the attention away from my business activities.

"It is good, isn't it?" Mom nodded. "I got it down at that new supermarket..."

"The Bartlett's?" Cheryl leaned forward a little. "I do all my shopping there now."

My brother and dad engaged themselves with talk about the baseball season, so that I sat there smiling between the two conversations and eating my dinner slowly. It was nice, being home again, and very nice sitting across from my father, who acted for all the world like he had no idea who or what I really was.

That was what amazed me most, I suppose. And I imagine he may have thought the same about me, since I'd spoken vaguely, but without hesitation about my job. I hadn't lied about it either, as he well knew, I'd just kept it simple and that was good enough.

Cheryl and I helped Mom clean up after dinner and I smiled at Dad as I picked up his plate.

"You might want to check your email, Daddy," I told him. "You had a little new mail thing when I was checking mine."

"I did?" he gave a little grunt of puzzlement. "I didn't even know I had a new mail thing."

My brother chuckled at our dad's smile and I just shrugged. "Well, maybe it was something else. Are you done with your water?"

"Yeah, honey. Thank you," he smiled at me and gave my brother a quizzical look. "I guess I'll check my email."

I kissed his cheek, wondering what he'd think when he saw my note.

My dad was a good looking man, as we all were in a wholesome Americana way. Tall and lean, he kept himself in shape, which wasn't easy for an investment banker. He spent his days behind a desk, talking on the phone, but he still found time for tennis and golf on the weekends, and that was enough to keep him healthy. I'd inherited his black hair and blue eyes, my mother and brother being more brown in both respects. And we were tall, all of us, my dad and brother over six feet, Mom and me just a few inches shy of that.

After dinner we sat in the living room, watching old videos, home movies of my brother and me as children. We laughed and smiled, sipped our wine and generally enjoyed a pleasant evening of bonding before my brother took his wife home. I gave them hugs and kisses, pressing my hand to Cheryl's soft tummy, imagining that I might feel my niece or nephew growing inside her, but it was too soon for that.

If my father had looked at his email, and I was sure he had, the only sign of it was a bit of distraction, some small quick glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking. It was a fun game and I was quite enjoying myself as I'd made it a point to sit close to him on the sofa, between him and my mother. For the most part everything seemed perfectly normal and if I hadn't known better it would have been hard to pick up on my father's reaction.

And just before ten we retired for the evening, or at least part of it. My father and I had an appointment at midnight, if he was willing to keep it.

I had some butterflies, I'll admit. I was nervous as I prepared myself with what little I had to work with. Obviously I hadn't brought much with me in the way of fetish gear, clothing or toys, but those things are just tools and not essential by any means. The reality of BDSM resides in our hearts and minds, not in anything external, and if my dad didn't have a true understanding of that yet, I'd be more than happy to teach him.

I made my face up carefully, sitting at my vanity in what was still my bedroom. I'd moved out six years before, but it was clean and neat and just the way I'd left it. That room would always be mine and there was no place else in the world I felt more safe or comfortable.

After my bath I'd pinned my long black hair up, pulling it from my forehead and back into a chignon above my neck. I darkened my eyes, plucked my eyebrows and painted my lips crimson. I was very beautiful then, and imposing to most people who didn't know me except by appearance, and I wondered how attractive my father would find me.

My costume would be simple enough. A black lace bra, with demi-cups that left my tawny nipples exposed. They'd always been lightly colored, too light for my taste, and so I rouged them with my blush. It was provocative I thought, and very pleasing to have hard ruby nipples perched upon my firm breasts. I wore matching panties, rich with lace and French cut high around my hips. They were black and sheer and my freshly shaven sex was clearly exposed. On my feet I wore patent leather slings with two inch heels and closed toes, wishing I'd brought just one decent pair of boots with me.

My appearance was hardly dramatic, true, but it would work well enough for our improvised purposes, I thought. And my body, barely contained now, would be a costume all its own. My skin was light and smooth, without blemish or scar, and my muscles were defined without being vulgar. It was a good body and I'd been lucky with my genes, and with my work ethic as I did enjoy taking care of myself. I was worthy of worship in that body, as so many people had eagerly demonstrated over the past few years, and I felt no shame in exposing it. Even to my father.

I was in his study early, having chosen that room because it was remote from the rest of the house. My mother would be sleeping anyway, and the room was large and comfortable enough that it would suit us well. I stood at the window, in the shadows with only a single table lamp illuminating the desk. I had my back to the open door and I waited patiently.

"Ahem..." my father cleared his throat gently and I turned around, slowly and deliberately, holding my breath.

This was the moment of truth and it filled me with nervous energy.

My father was standing there in his bathrobe, just inside the study, and he narrowed his eyes, picking me out of the gloom in which I stood.

"Susan?" he asked tentatively.

"Close the door," I told him and I waited while he did so. "Lock it."

"Lock it?" He rubbed his jaw, but did as I told him, pushing the button in on the doorknob with a loud click. It was very quiet in that house.