Chapter 12

Philip Hamilton-Jenkins couldn't tear his eyes away from his daughter's deliciously firm backside as she sat cheekily perched on the arm of his dining chair, one finger in her mouth as she admitted to being 'naughty' because she had forgotten to wear any panties under her thin white gown that so attractively sheathed her trim, appealing body.

Knowing full well what his scheming offspring was up to didn't prevent Philip from reaching out and taking hold of the zip at the top of Elizabeth's dress and slowly pulling it down to waist level where he paused and pondered if he should undo the clip of her bra or not. In the end, he decided to leave it as it was. Then, sliding a hand down her now exposed back, he felt for any knickers - but, as his child had already confessed to him, there was nothing in his way apart from a thin suspender belt, the appearance of which only served to further increase his excitement.

Slowly standing, but still keeping her back towards her father, Elizabeth waited for him to pull the zip the rest of the way down. She didn't have to endure more than a short pause before she could wiggle her hips and allow the dress to slide down her thighs and pool around her feet upon the floor. From behind her she heard her father gasp as he took in the sight of her naked buttocks and her specially selected undergarments - bra, belt and stockings, all in white - and a pair of high heels to match. "Since you've been so forgetful, so naughty," he said in husky tones, "you'll have to be punished. Go and fetch me your hairbrush..."

"Yes, daddy," she meekly replied before crossing the room wile deliberate making her hips wiggle in a most enticing manner. Upon reaching the door, she paused and, looking over her shoulder, pouted, "Do I have to, daddy?"

Breathing hard now, her father insisted that she must and, once Elizabeth had left the room, he stuffed a hand down into the waistband of his pants and moved his throbbing cock into a more comfortable position. Hearing his daughter returning, he whipped his hand out but not fast enough and she just caught the last trace of movement. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as the sweet scent of victory wafted up her nostrils. All this might be somewhat unpleasant for her but if it got her marriage to Andrew postponed or even cancelled it would all be worth it...

As Elizabeth crossed the room towards him, Philip got his first look at his daughter's crotch since she had been a small child and the sight of it was such that he almost shot his load into his pants there and then. Long had he dreamed and fantasised about this and now there was her pussy, so close and tempting... and yet still so far separated from him by a chasm of morality and legality. "Here you are, daddy," she said holding out the hairbrush. "I'm sorry that I took so long to get it."

"You will be," he answered sternly. "Now, bend over the dining table."

"Yes, father," she dutifully replied before stretching herself out on the cool, highly polished surface of the antique wooden table, her feet apart on the floor, breasts squashed and arse on display. Philip was in seventh heaven already but this was just too much! The tent in his pants was huge now, obvious to both the participants in the scene that was being played out in this house where the centuries old walls had observed many strange goings on. Struggling with his self-control, Philip resisted the temptation to stroke or to fondle his daughter and instead he contented himself with simply admiring her perfect buttocks, framed as they were by the suspender belt and the tops of her stockings. Then, after taking a better grip on the ivory hand of the hair brush, he pulled back his arm and with a mighty swing, applied the implement to the flesh of the young woman bent over so enticingly before him...

Elizabeth screamed more in shock than in pain. She hadn't imagined that it would hurt this much and, for the first time, she thought that she had been a fool to try this... but it was all too late - far too late - for second thoughts. Then she howled again as the brush descended a second time...

Admiring the way that the young flesh before him quivered and immediately began to glow red, Philip couldn't help compare this to his wife's flabby and wrinkled arse and he knew which he preferred to beat. A third and then a fourth blow followed and, after each application, his offspring wailed and squirmed. Thinking that the young girl had probably taken enough for her first lesson, he instructed her to remain where she was and not to move. Crossing to a sideboard, Philip placed the brush down carefully before pulling open a drawer and lifting out a small jar of his special soothing cream. Returning to the still gasping Elizabeth, he smeared some of the cream over his fingers before starting to apply it to her scarlet coloured flesh...

As far as Elizabeth was concerned, the cream was a miracle and she didn't mind at all that it was her father who was applying it - anything to remove the burning that she was feeling in her posterior. His fingers kneaded her flesh, his actions slowly turning into something more akin to a massage. Elizabeth turned her head to one side and lowered her cheek to the cool surface of the table, a quiet moan of satisfaction escaping her lips...

Standing behind her, his hands squeezing and pummelling her flesh, Philip fought with his own desires. He knew that he should end this here, that he should now pull away and send his wayward daughter off to bed, he knew all that... yet it did him no good at all as his right hand slide lower, between her legs, a finger brushing against her outer lips...

Gasping, Elizabeth felt her father's finger easing itself against her clit. Part of her was disgusted... but, more than that, she wanted some sexual relief. For what seemed like days, she'd been used, abused, humiliated and beaten - even screwed - yet she had been permitted no release for herself. Remaining where she was, Elizabeth allowed her father free access to her most intimate parts...

With his daughter neither flinching nor pulling away like she had the previous time that he had tried this, Philip was now encouraged to continue. Breaking away from what he had been doing, he unclipped her bra catch before picking up a carving knife and, after slitting through her shoulder straps he slid the material from under her body. "Stand up and turn around for me, pet," he instructed her.

Easing herself off the table Elizabeth did as she had been told, her breasts exposed to the man who had sired her twenty three years previously, her nipples erect and eager. "Where was I conceived, daddy?" she asked.

Taken aback a little by this sudden question, Philip nevertheless recovered quickly. "In the master bedroom, upstairs..."

Smiling, she reached out a hand to take his. "Let's go up there then, shall we?"

Once in the bedroom, Elizabeth felt rather more nervous as she looked at the place where her mother usually slept and where she must have been the night that Elizabeth had been created. A sudden image of her mother came to her, the woman laying naked upon a bed in this room, her legs spread wide as a man thrust powerfully into her. In her imagination Elizabeth saw her mother's head rocking wildly from side to side and she heard her scream...

"You were born in this room too," broke in her father's voice as he stood behind her, his arms moving to cup her bare breasts. "Not in this very bed, of course, but in this same spot..."

"Do you ever regret it, daddy? Regret having me, I mean?"