Chapter 11

May 12th, 2020

Back in March, I dreaded the very thought of moving in with my father. We’d never been able to get along and we had such a toxic relationship throughout my teen years after my mother’s death. I thought that being forced to live with my father throughout the lockdown of this horrible pandemic would be a tedious, monotonous period of my life that I’d somehow just have to get through before I could move out and have my freedom again. However, none of my worst fears were realized.

We began an incestuous relationship that changed my life in so many different ways. He was open and nurturing; he doted on me and treated me like his loving wife. Conversely, we also began a sexual relationship like I’d never experienced before. His easy-going, generous nature was a sharp contrast to how he treated me inside the bedroom. He was very aggressive and demanding with me sexually and often pushed me outside of my comfort zone. However, no matter what he asked of me or how hard he pushed me, I was completely devoted to him. More than anything, I wanted to please him and I hoped to fill the void in his life from my mother’s passing.

I was lounging on the living room sofa, wearing nothing except an oversized T-shirt and a little thong, when the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, a UPS van was pulling away and I saw that the driver had left three large boxes. Daddy joined me and I helped him carry the boxes to one of our guest bedrooms. It was a large room; even with a king-size bed and a pair of night-stands on the wall opposite the entry and a triple dresser along one of the side walls, there was a large open space between the foot of the bed and the doorway. We set the boxes in the center of that open area.

“What is all this?” I asked my father.

“Your mother liked some kinds of BDSM play,” he replied, “and you certainly enjoyed being spanked and some rougher sex. So I decided to get some equipment to see what works for us. I wasn’t concerned about costs, and I guess I went a little overboard; I ordered a lot of different things to try on you.” He briefly paused. “This bedroom is now going to be our playroom.”

I felt a shiver run up and down my spine while he talked and I felt those little tell-tale signs emanating from between my legs as my arousal grew. He was right that I enjoyed rough sex, and I’d also discovered that it was very erotic to me when he spanked me. He was the first man I’d ever let restrain me, and that took our sexual activities to a whole new level. I had to admit the truth, it was also a little bit scary walking down this dark path with him, but I trusted him implicitly. Regardless, I couldn’t wait to see what he’d bought.

“Go out to the garage and get my toolbox,” he directed. “I’ll need some tools to assemble a couple of pieces of equipment.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I answered. I shivered again, and this time it was definitely from arousal. My thong was becoming wet. When Daddy used that commanding tone, I knew he was taking charge of me in his dominant way and I was completely willing to be under his control. I turned and left the room, and as I did I felt moisture on my inner thighs.

When I returned with the toolbox, I saw several orange plastic Home Depot bags next to the boxes. “More stuff?” I inquired.

“Yes, another delivery,” he said. “You’ll see some of it as we proceed.”

Daddy opened one of the boxes, and I held parts in place while he quickly assembled what looked like what gymnasts call a high bar. After he positioned it in the center of the space, he turned to me.

“This is called a bondage frame,” he explained. “I could have gotten a St. Andrew’s cross, the one that looks like a tall letter X, but I got this instead. I liked the idea that I could walk completely around it without having to change your position. Go put on some heels so I can get the height set right.”

I left the room again and returned wearing a pair of my four-inch stiletto pumps. Daddy stood me almost directly under the frame, I could look up and see the bar not quite over my head, and then he told me to raise my arms.

While I did so, he opened another of the boxes and took out a strange-looking pair of cuffs. I’d seen leather wrist and ankle cuffs, but these were different. He walked over to me and held them up so I could examine them.

“These are called suspension cuffs,” he said. “As you can see, they wrap around your wrists, but they have this handle so you can grab onto them and relieve any strain on your wrists or shoulders. Now hold out your hands so I can fasten them.”

I did as he directed and he fastened the cuffs onto my wrists. Then he went to the Home Depot bags and withdrew a spool of chrome-colored chain and two kinds of connectors. He attached an openable link, one of the connectors, between the top arc of each cuff and the bottom ring of the second kind of connector. Then he attached the end of the chain on the spool to one of the top corner rings on the bondage frame.

“This special kind of connector is used a lot in boating,” he told me. “Unlike the link or other kinds of connectors, this one can be opened under tension, so even if your weight is pulling on the chain I can open it and get you down from the frame.”

“Okay, Daddy, that’s good to know.”

“Your safety is very important to me, Kenna, and I’m telling you this because I want you to feel safe, not just be safe.”