Chapter 4: I Just Lay In Bed

“Girls?” I said, startled. Seeing my wife like this when I’d returned home the previous day, that would made sense, but my teenaged daughters ... I had absolutely no idea what to make of it.

Just as startling, though, was how little the sight surprised me. Somehow, it felt absolutely right. These girls were mine. They were my daughters, and I was the head of the family.

In the same way that I knew my wife was mine, and I was certain that the barely-dressed girl sitting in my car awaiting further instruction was mine, these girls were mine as well.

“Hey Daddy,” my youngest said. “We have to tell you something.”

I stepped inside and shut the door.

“Where’s your mother?”

“She went out,” one of the pair eventually replied, but there was a worried-looking glance between them first.

I’d deal with that later.

“What are you doing, girls?”

Again, there was a glance, but this time it wasn’t worried.

This time, they looked proud.

“So we were thinking...” one of my girls started, and after a brief hesitation, the other one continued where she’d left off.

“ ... raising a kid is expensive.”

“Really expensive.”

I nodded. They weren’t wrong.

“And so, well ... we were thinking.”

“We owe you.”

“Big time.”

“We want to pay you back for all that you’ve done for us over the years.”

“Please.”

The pair shivered at that last word - it was quickly becoming clear what had happened. I knew that they’d listened to the tape about being subservient. But there was no reason that would inspire them to make an advance on me, their father.

No, it was obvious that their mother had shared the most recent tape with them. The one that taught them all women were whores, that all women should be whores.

My little girls wanted to be whores. They wanted to pay me back for bringing them up, and the tape had taught them that the best way for any woman to do that was by offering her body.

And looking over the two of them, that was one hell of an offer.

My eldest daughter was dressed in the sheerest black crop-top I’d ever seen. It wasn’t transparent, but it was so form-fitting that I could not only tell exactly where her nipples were, but the exact size and shape of her areolae as well. Aside from that, she was only wearing pair of stripper heels, and a denim skirt that was so tight, I could tell now that she was going to need help standing up again.

Her younger sister was wearing a top that was barely anything more than a belt around her boobs, and a pair of short shorts that rode so high, the edges of her labia were clearly visible. It looked like it was going to chafe, but it also looked like she didn’t care - when she saw me looking, a flush spread across her whole body.

She wasn’t wearing anything other than those two pieces of cloth - as she knelt before me, barefoot, I couldn’t help but start getting hard.

I couldn’t let them do this. Could I? On one hand, they were my daughters - my baby girls, who I’d raised, been there for their whole lives. I’d seen them grow up, I’d helped them become adults.

On the other hand, they were right. I’d poured money into their upbringing for almost twenty years now, and what did I have to show for it? I deserved this. I deserved to take their bodies, use them however I pleased. I had made them - I’d brought them into this world, and I’d shepherded them through it for their entire lives.

They were mine, and some part of them had clearly realized that. The two of them had worked out the best way to show their appreciation for all I’d done for them.

My daughters were grown women now, and they wanted to pay me back. They wanted me to fuck them ... and who was I to say no?

I didn’t say anything as my eyes moved over my daughters’ bodies. The bodies that I was about to take.

The bodies that I deserved.

They trembled with anticipation as their father blatantly checked them out, and it didn’t take long for me to make up my mind.

“Follow,” I said, striding past them, and the two of them hurriedly tried to follow me - one having to help the other stand up.

The click-clack of the stripper boots followed me down the hall, into the master bedroom.

The Master bedroom.

I’d fucked my wife on the hallway floor the previous day, and while I’d certainly enjoyed the spontaneity of it, I didn’t really want to make a habit of it. My knees would never forgive me.

“Bed,” I said, and the girls quickly obeyed, almost tripping over each other in their attempt to obey my commands. The tape in my hand quickly made its way into my wife’s stereo, and I hit “play”, the addicting music from the final tape filling the room as I turned back towards the two teenage temptresses sitting on the bed.

Their eyes filled with lustful anticipation as I commanded them to strip, and in their efforts to obey, they almost tore the (very expensive-looking) clothes that my wife had bought them earlier in the week.

No, I corrected. That I bought. Every cent my wife spent was my money.

These girls were my property. I owned them, and I owned everything that they owned, a thought that made me smile. I was going to have complete control over what they wore from now on. Not that there was anything wrong with their choices so far, of course, but there was something erotic about the level of power I realized I had over them.

These girls were mine. Everything they did, everything they wore, everything they ate and thought and said and felt - it was completely under my control.

The music played, its throbbing beat filling my ears, filling the room. The girls were already subservient little whores, but I wanted to make sure that they knew our arrangement - that all women needed a master, and that I was theirs.

It was clear from the look in their eyes that a part of them wanted me to hurry up, to take my cock out and fill them with it, so that they could start to repay their debt, the debt that we all knew they could never fully pay back. But I was enjoying the anticipating of taking them for the first time, and so I spent a few more minutes standing above them, looking down and appreciating their nudity.

My youngest daughter had fuller breasts - as she breathed, they moved up and down slightly. Her nipples were rock-hard (as were her sister’s) and I wondered how much fun they’d had the previous night, on their dates.

I wondered if it had been enough of a good time that their dates would pay to go again ... but that was a thought for another time.