Call Me Daddy Ch. 02

Dear Readers: I love my readers, and never want to make someone feel uncomfortable by surprising them with an unwelcomed kink in a story by me. So I wanted to warn you - there is definite non-consent in this chapter. If nonconsent or reluctance makes you feel uncomfortable you might want to pass on reading this. I try very hard to make sure each chapter of my stories can stand on its own so don't worry too much about missing one.

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Long ago Hope heard her grandfather speak of houses of sin with mirrors on the ceiling. And she had heard one of the elderly widows behind her bench sniff and mutter something about "tacky". She hadn't understood any of it at the time, had actually thought it would be pretty cool to be able to lay in bed and put on your makeup. Now, however, she knew that mirrors on the ceiling had nothing at all to do with makeup. Grinning up at the mirror on her father's bedroom ceiling, she stuck her tongue out at it before rolling unto her side, grimacing in pain at the soreness that shot through her lower body. Her father's arm fell away, his hand sliding off her bare breast as she wiggled out from underneath him.

The bathroom was bigger than her bedroom back home. It was bright white with a black slate floor and shiny chrome fixtures. The bathroom alone in this two story mansion probably cost more than her grandfather's entire three bedroom ranch house. After a longing look at the deep whirlpool tub, she made her way to the shower. No time for a soak now, he might wake up at any time. Undressing was not necessary. She was already naked - had been naked ever since meeting her father for the first time yesterday except for the brief ride to his home.

The hot water rushing over her body brought a sigh of relief. She bent over, thrusting her bottom out at the warm spray. God, it felt so good on her aching girly parts. Not to mention the bruises on her arms and hips and breasts. She had been a virgin this time yesterday, and so far she had been fucked three times. She didn't know at what age men's sexual stamina started to decrease, but evidently her father had not hit it yet. Did she like it? Regret it? Miss home? Wish she had never come here? This was the first time she had a chance to think since making her bold move, but she didn't really have to consider it. She would much rather be her father's new fucktoy than endure one more hour of the stuffy insufferable company of her mother and grandparents. If she had to hear one more mention of the blessed grace of Jesus Christ's forgiveness she was going to hurl.

No, she would be a good girl for her daddy. He wasn't all that bad no matter how he tried to pretend he was. At least not to her. No doubt he had hurt many other people. But if she gave him pleasure, she figured that she would avoid suffering the worst side of him. There had even been a few times he had been ...well...NICE to her. Like when he had his driver stop of at a Thai restaurant on the way home so he could get her something to eat. Just her...he had not eaten. Or when he brought her into his home and introduced her to his small staff, a definite note of pride in his voice when he introduced her as his daughter. The staff just blew her mind. He had staff! Only incredibly rich people had staff! That, more than anything, proved his wealth. There were two bodyguards - one of which had ridden home with them and had merely looked bored as her father had openly fondled her practically the entire drive. There was also a cook, a plump older woman. A maid, a pretty enough . And the driver. All of them lived in the left wing of the mansion, and she got the impression she would rarely see any of them except the bodyguards.

There was little question her father was her best opportunity to escape from a life of isolated poverty, surrounded by brainwashed religious zealots. He just had to be handled carefully, that was all. He would use her for her body, she would use him for his money and power. That WAS how the real world worked, right?

James was annoyed when he woke up alone in bed with an aching hardon. Already the little slut was failing in her duties, but in all fairness he had been too busy fucking them both into exhaustion the night before to tell her what her duties exactly were. A wide smile graced his face as he stared up at the ceiling. The mirror reflected the chaos of the night before. He was naked, sex juices dried on his dick. His hair was a mess - she had been pulling and tugging on it. Red scratches on his chest from her nails, and he could feel them on his back as well. Bedclothes rumpled and twisted and stained with sex and sweat. One blanket had tumbled off the bed entirely, one of her pillows was halfway off. Christ, he could still smell sex in the air.

Yes, keeping her was definitely a smart choice. But he could already sense he was going to be far more possessive of his daughter than he was any of the other whores he had fucked. Already he was having second thoughts about letting his men have her. What if she liked them better than she did him? The thought annoyed him, because with every other woman he had been with he wouldn't have given a shit. With her, he gave a shit. But he didn't WANT to give a shit. He wanted her to be just another pretty whore he would use and then toss aside. Whores were not to be trusted, even daughter-whores. Especially not daughter-whores who showed up to introduce themselves to their long-lost father and willingly stripped naked and fucked him in that same meeting. No...those daughter-whores were to be particularly not trusted. Experience told him she had a game plan. And so far, she had not told him what that was.

Rolling his head, he looked at the clock. Fuck. 9:30 am. He was late. He rolled out of bed with a groan, making his way into the bathroom. The entire bathroom was steamed up, but through it he saw her willowy naked silhouette in the shower. His hard-on throbbed. He stood there for a second, watching her. Her head was tilted back as she rinsed her long hair. Breasts lifting upwards, riding even higher on her chest. Tiny rivers of water running over her supple skin, tracing her delicious curves. Her expression was one of pure pleasure, and he could imagine why. As frequently and hard as he had fucked her yesterday, she had to be sore as hell. He opened the shower door and stepped inside.

Her first sign of his presence was his hands cupping her naked breasts as he pressed his body into her from behind. She could feel the hardness of his cock pressing against her asscheeks.

"Good morning, Daddy." She all but purred the words, wiggling that tight little ass against him. He grunted, and his fingers clamped down over her nipples, squeezing hard. She tensed, sucking in her breath at the sudden stab of pain.

"Not even 24 hours with me and you are already a bad girl."

"A bad girl? What did I do?" She turned around in his arms, and he released her nipples and moved his hands to her asscheeks as she did so. Fingers dug into soft flesh. She pouted up at him, and his cock twitched against her soft belly at the sight of those plump lips. For being an innocent girl raised in a preacher's household, she sure knew how to use her body to get a man's attention.

"I woke up alone, Hope. I should never wake up alone."

"I'm sorry, Daddy." She gave him an almost virginal kiss on his lips, her wet naked body sliding up his as she went to her tiptoes. He groaned, opened his mouth to heat that kiss up. But she had already slipped down his body, a half smirk on her face as if she knew what she had just done. It was not to be tolerated.

"Not as sorry as you will be after I punish you tonight for it."

He watched in satisfaction as the little smirk was wiped off her face. Worry flickered in those pretty brown eyes.

"But I didn't know! That's not fair!"

The whining tone in her voice almost had him gloating. Smirk now, pretty little slut.

"I didn't promise fair, did I? Nor did you demand it. So it is not part of any deal. Get on your knees and suck me off, I need to get to work."

Even as he spoke he slapped her asscheeks, then pushed down on her small shoulders. She sank down, looking up at him, water streaming down her face. It was the first time he had made her suck him off since her faltering first attempt right after she had stripped for the first time. He would have to teach her how to strip better later...though he didn't have any complaints at the time it had happened. Her training in blowjobs began now, though this lesson would be a rudimentary one due to time constraints.

He stared down at her as she wrapped those pretty little lips around him.

"Eyes up here while you work my cock, slut. I sometimes might give you nonverbal directions, you should always be watching for cues from me."

Gentle brown eyes obediently flicked up to his face. Of course water ran right into them, forcing her to blink frantically. He grinned, but did not give her permission to look back down or close her eyes. He began washing himself while she sucked, humming a little tuneless song. Every now and then he checked to make sure her eyes were on him. They always were. Smart girl, but he hoped she would not always be this obedient. Punishing eager young sluts was always more fun when they deserved it. He gave her periodic instructions as he washed.

"Deeper"

"Don't forget my balls. You can squeeze them gently, suck them, play with them."

"Deeper."

"Use your tongue, not just your lips."

"Deeper."

She stopped each time she started gagging, and it was growing annoying. But despite his annoyance, he finally came down her throat after demanding she swallow it all.

"We are going to have to work on your gag reflex." He stepped out of the shower as soon as he could do so without worry about falling down on shaky knees. He grabbed a towel and threw it at her as she turned off the shower and stepped out as well.

"Dry me off. Quickly, I don't have time. I'm late." He waited till she started drying him before continuing. "You need clothes, so I am sending you out with one of my bodyguards to get clothes. He will choose your clothes, he knows what I like. You will model for him whatever he demands. Obey him like you would me. No matter what he asks of you."

She had went still, her jaw dropping as she stared up at him.

"Close your mouth, you look like a stupid slut. Keep drying me."

Her jaw snapped shut and she industriously went to work though he noticed with amusement her touch was rougher than before.

"But I thought I was yours."

Oh she was pouting again. Adorable. He chucked her chin affectionately and headed towards the room to dress for the day.

"You are. Which means you obey whoever I tell you too. If you disobey him your punishment will be that much harder tonight."

Half an hour later he was out the door after a sweet hug and chaste kiss from his naked daughter and brief instructions to the bodyguard who would be accompanying her.

"No fucking her cunt or ass, Sam. But you can use her mouth however you want. Light discipline is ok. Take her shopping, she needs slutwear and other girl stuff."

Hope had not even left the bedroom suite. After her father left she lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, still completely naked though she had dried and brushed her hair. She would need to get dressed wearing the same clothes she had worn the day before. She had come here with no luggage at all, just the clothes she had worn, a brush and lipstick, her ID, and $1400 in stolen money. Which she still had. She grinned as she realized her father had not asked for the thousand she had promised to pay for her consultation. She was rich! Her eyes gleamed up at the mirror, then flicked down when the door banged open.

She bolted upright and snatched at the blanket, covering her nakedness with it as she glowered at the bodyguard standing there leering at her. He was massive, taller than her father by a head. He had entirely too many muscles, and every single one of them showed under the tight black t-shirt he wore. For pants he wore black khakis, and combat boots finished off the look. His face was square and hard, dark brown eyes that seemed to take in everything in one glance, and no hair. Yep, bald and shiny. And he was black. Very, very black.

"You're supposed to knock!"

"Who says?" He sauntered into the room to the side of the bed. She scooted backwards, eyeing him warily. Her naked back hit the cool cherry wood headboard.

"Let's get a few things straight, sweetheart. My name is Sam, but you can call me Sir. If you don't call me Sir, I will beat that pretty little ass of yours. I tell you what to do, you do it. If you don't, I will beat your pretty little tits. Might make'em grow a bit."

One black paw darted out, thick strong fingers closing around her ankle. She jerked it away, but beyond her leg muscles flexing nothing happened. White teeth gleamed in his dark face, and she shivered. Now she knew what books meant when they talked about the eyes of a predator. Those eyes were looking at her right now, and she felt very, very vulnerable. Like a soft little kitten under the gaze of a rabid pit bull.

"I'm going to tell my father if you hurt me."

He laughed at that, dragging her further until he grabbed her other leg. He jerked her down till her ass rested on the edge of the bed, her legs spread around his body.

"With what phone? I looked in your shitty purse, you don't have one."

Her eyes darted to the dresser where she had left her purse when she dried her hair. It was gone. Panic flared in her eyes. Her money! Where was her money?

"Even if you did get ahold of your Daddy it wouldn't matter. See it don't matter if you're his daughter, his wife, hell even his fucking mother. You are still a cunt. And that means anything with a swinging dick outranks you. And I got a big fucking swinging dick." One black paw lifted, effortlessly ripping away the blanket she was clinging to, exposing her nakedness. His eyes raked over her approvingly.

"You have fifteen minutes to get dressed and eat. There's fruit in the kitchen downstairs. If you aren't waiting at the garage door in fifteen minutes, I will carry you out as is." He patted her pussy absently, then abruptly left.

She was ready in ten minutes, standing at the garage door in the same outfit she had met her father in yesterday clutching a small Ziploc bag of grapes, strawberries, and blueberries. She hadn't found her purse either, though she had looked.

"Where is my purse?" Her anxious inquiry met him as he came to the door, a pleased look in his eyes when he found her waiting there. He now wore a light black suit jacket over his t-shirt, and instead of khakis wore black suit pants with black dress shoes.

"None of your concern."

The garage was huge. She vaguely remembered it from last night. Space for three cars. One was gone. The other was a sleek very expensive looking black sports car. She didn't recognize the type, she wasn't a car person. He led her to the SUV though, also sleek and expensive looking and black. He held the door for her again, eyeing her legs as she climbed up into the passenger seat. Despite his openly ogling her, she enjoyed the way he held doors open for her. It made her feel important, despite his very clear pronouncement as to her unimportance this morning.

"It IS my concern! My ID is in there!"

"And your Daddy's money." He grinned as he started the SUV up. The engine growled as the garage started slowly opening.

"MY money!" She loudly protested.

"You owe your Daddy $1,000. He is taking the rest as well. A retainer fee."

She gaped at him. Her father had STOLEN her money? As much money as he had to have, and he had STOLEN her $400? Her outrage built with each mile they drove. She forced herself to eat her fruit even as she sulked. She couldn't be mad about the $1000, she HAD agreed to that. But the $400 was HERS, and he had no right to take it. By the time they arrived at a medium sized clothing store she was in a rare fury. She tried to get out of the SUV as soon as he turned off the engine, but her door was locked. She looked over the door for the lock as he got out and slammed his door shut. There was no lock. She had to wait in impotent rage for him to stroll around the SUV and open her door. Then had to endure his amused eyes on her as she crawled out and stiffly walked into the shop in front of him. She could FEEL him staring at her ass.

"Good morning, can I help you?"

The bright cheerful voice that greeted her was also dripping with so much condescension that she felt like a filthy piece of scum that had crawled onto the excruciatingly clean wood floor. She immediately tensed.

"Oh Sam!" The condescension vanished. Evidently Sam was known here. And far more acceptable than she was. "I didn't know she was with you."

Sam chuckled, the sound low in her ear.

"Mrs. Elsie, this is Hope Macken."

Hope perked up. It was the first time her father's name had been given to her, and she found herself rather pleased at the sound. Her chin came up from a shot of confidence induced from hearing her father's name paired with hers. He had money and power, and the reaction of this prissy bitch to Sam proved it.

"Macken?" Disbelief laced every syllable as Mrs. Elsie looked Hope up and down. Mrs. Elsie was older, probably in her late thirties. Painfully thin - anorexia anyone? Every strand of her blond hair was perfectly arranged in an elegant twisted knot. She was dressed in a very expensive looking black and white cashmere jacquard dress that barely touched the top of her perfect knees. She wore just the right amount of jewelry, a delicate gold chain and matching bracelet, with two dainty diamond rings. Hope hated her on sight. Ms. Elsie made her feel like a dowdy awkward teenager.

"James Macken's daughter." Sam sounded bored.

"Daughter?" Mrs. Elsie's voice went shrill, her eyes widening.

"She needs clothes. Mr. Macken will pay for them all. An entire wardrobe. From shoes up. I will approve the items as she tries them on."

At first both Sam and Mrs. Elsie completely ignored Hope. He settled himself onto a comfortable couch in front of a door and whipped out a tablet while Mrs. Elsie fetched him coffee and a blueberry scone. They murmured together for a few moments as he delivered more instructions. Hope stared around the store. Clothes were everywhere. Clothes with no price tag. She had never seen clothes with no price tag. She wandered around, looking things over. All the hottest brands by the hottest designers she had never hoped to afford were here. Alice and Olivia, Victoria Beckham, Elizabeth and James. There were other designers she didn't even recognize. She was reaching out to touch one fluffy pink coat when Mrs. Elsie was suddenly there.

"Don't touch, please."

Hope stiffened, her cheeks burning at Mrs. Elsie's condescending look.

"I was just..."

Mrs. Elsie took her elbow and started walking, forcing Hope to stumble after her.

"We need to measure you, my dear." Mrs. Elsie smoothly interrupted her as if she had not even been speaking. "You are a bit...pudgy in your tummy area but overall you have a nice figure."

Pudgy!? Hope glared in muted outrage. She was NOT pudgy. Not in the slightest. Yes, her belly rounded out a tiny bit, but it was curves, not pudginess! And how did the woman's snide voice seem to silently indicate that Hope suffered in the facial looks department with the same breath she complimented her figure? Hope wisely decided to suffer in silent dignity and raised her chin, throwing back her shoulders.

Ten minutes later they began. Mrs. Elsie gathered an armful of clothes, and she and Hope made their way to the fitting room behind the door Sam sat in front of. As Mrs. Elsie reached for the door, Sam spoke up.