Chapter 5: Punishment, or Reward?

My daughter eyed me, icily. "Because I know where I was. And I know where a certain John Doe, registered to this address, was." She gestured at her crotch, mercifully hidden behind crossed legs and denim. She looked around, pretending to search for John Doe.

I started to babble, put on the spot by her boldness- and the truth of her accusations. "I'm so sorry, honey. I just ... it was ... I don't even know what to say. I'm so sorry."

Samantha uncrossed her legs, leaning forward in the chair. The movement caused her t-shirt to fall away from her body, revealing a tanned expanse of perfect cleavage. I resisted the urge to stare "Sorry for what, daddy? Sorry for sticking your cock in your daughter's mouth? Sorry for shooting your come all over her face? Are you sorry for jamming your dick in your little girl's pussy, making her cream all over it and leaving your semen inside her? I mean, you didn't even use a condom! Or maybe," she said thoughtfully, rising slowly to her feet "Maybe what you're sorry for is tricking me. Hmmm? Which is it, daddy?"

My brain went numb. "Err," I temporised, trying to come up with an explanation for my shocking actions. My despicable betrayal of the sacred trust between a father and daughter. Samantha stared at me incredulously, unable to believe that I had no defence for her. Sighing, she shook her head. "Maybe mom was right about you after all."

She strode forwards, grabbing at my crotch. Despite having been correctly accused of incest and with the unwitting target of my forbidden lusts confronting me about it, I was rock-hard. "Now what do we have here?" she asked, the levity in her tone at odds with the gravity of the situation. I back-pedaled, desperately trying to escape her grasp, but the wall was only a few paces behind me, and Samantha easily kept up. Once I could run no further, she began to rub at my penis through my hastily-donned pants. The pleasure was overwhelming.

"Do you like that, daddy? Do you like your little girl giving you a handjob? Would you like more? Do you want to fuck your little princess again?" Each word was like a slap to the face. I groaned, mortified by my behaviour but still loving every second of the stimulation she provided. She looked up at me, her expression clearly indicating idiocy on my part. Well, yes I thought. That kind of goes unspoken.

"Seriously, dad, what the fuck? I'm standing here jerking you off, the video where you fucked me is running in the background, and the best you can do is look like a drowning goldfish?" She mimed me opening and closing my mouth, puffing her cheeks out as she did so. "How much clearer can I make this for you?"

She finally released me, stepping back to cross her arms and regard me icily. "I'm a whore. I'm not a pretentious little bitch like Sasha Grey, insisting that I'm really a performance artist, pushing the boundaries of the socially acceptable. I fuck men- sometimes lots of men- for money. But there are other rewards that could get a man into my pants. Like, say ... if he were really good in bed. But quid pro quo, daddy. You want this-" she uncrossed her arms, grabbed her breasts, and lifted them into greater prominence "then you're going to have to make it worth my while."

That finally shocked me back into life. "Sam, no, I can't-" she cut me off, squeezing my rigid member. Her eyes still fixed on mine, she stepped back, unbuttoning the skin-tight jeans and shimmying them off, kicking her heels away as they tangled in her denims. Her efforts caused her breasts to bounce and bobble hypnotically; my gaze drifted inexorably down to those gorgeous alps. Smirking, she crossed her arms and pulled her t-shirt over her head, showing me a lacy bra that matched her barely-there g-string panties. I throbbed with my need, wanting nothing more than to leap on my daughter, screwing her insensible on the bed she now reclined on, watching me through heavily-lidded eyes.