Daughter in Charge

Even when I was as young as twelve, my father would tell me at least once a week that I had to get a PhD if I really wanted to succeed in this world. Maybe you can imagine just what a fucking headache that was. I liked school, and I liked some of the classes I was in. I wasn't sure, though, that I wanted to spend an additional six to eight years writing papers and taking exams.

Nevertheless, Dad kept hammering away on the theme, and it was pissing me off. I'm an impulsive, creative, life-loving eighteen year old, and back then, felt as though I was being bullied into fulfilling the old man's dreams. I wanted nothing to do with them, to be honest.

His persistence caused me to grow bitter towards him. My mom somehow saw it all as gentle encouragement.

'Your father reflects each day on how his education has benefited him... benefited all of us, Jen. I think you'll agree.'

She'd say something along those lines whenever I griped about him.

I would think of how blissful it would be to not have some narrow-minded, whining asshole looking over my shoulder from dawn to dusk. How wonderful to be simply left alone.

My dad is like that, though. He's 100 percent right 100 percent of the time, and ever ready to convince you of it. What a way to live!

Anyway, he finally threw in the towel when I decided I'd be going to Parsons School of Design to study visual arts.

'And when you get out of that dreamworld, what will you do?' He would ask.

Not a question worth answering, really. A simple 'fuck off' seemed more appropriate. But he was paying the freight on my education, so I just zipped it.

When I'm at school, I share an apartment with two other freshmen, Molly and Rita. We all get along fine, but I have a closer relationship with Molly.

I told Molly about my home life, and about my nagging father.

"He sounds like a real drag, Jen. My dad just let me go my own way, which I so appreciate. So, he was pushing the PhD business since you were what?"

"Twelve." I said, resignedly.

"Shit. That's no age to be weighed down by someone else's expectations." Molly said, lying back on her bed and propping her bare feet against the wall. "That's a time to be biking, or canoeing, or looking at cute boys."

"He enforced my study time." I went on, feeling the long suppressed anger rise in me. "And I couldn't do that in my room. I had to sit at the dining room table under his supervision. It was hell."

Over time, Molly got to know my dad, either by just listening to me kvetch - and she was a good listener - or by asking questions. I talked to her about how my parents interacted, too.

"So, he never interrupts her?" Molly queried.

"No. I guess that's unusual."

"And if she tells him to do something, he goes and does it?" Molly probed.

"Yeah. Always, now that I think about it." I said, beginning to wonder what Molly was getting at.

I came back home for summer. I landed a job at Walmart overseeing the self-checkout section. It's kind of a fun position. The machines screw up fairly regularly, and I just stepped in to fix things. It's better than running endless merchandise over a scanner.

The plan was to stay the full summer. I'd have preferred staying in the city, but didn't have the funds to do that.

I was back home a week and still hadn't dared to go through with the experiment Molly had suggested. Eavesdropping! It kind of made my pulse quicken thinking about it. Molly said I could learn a lot by listening to my parents when they were alone. Her conjecture (Molly is a psych major) is that dad is turned on by controlling women.

In the second week home, I devised a plan. My bedroom is several doors down from my parents', but there is a room we use as a guest room next to theirs. We store stuff in the closets and shelves there, and there is an extra TV which sometimes comes in handy if there is no consensus on what to watch.

One night, soon after my folks went off to bed, I slipped into the guest room. I spread some papers on the coffee table, and placed a cushion on the floor beside them. If, by some odd chance, someone were to enter, I could rush to table and act as if I were going through some old schoolwork. I propped a heavy book up against the door so as to impede anyone coming in, even if just for a few seconds.

Once done with these preparations, I silently entered the walk-in closet that shared a wall with my parents' room. My heart was beating a bit quickly, and I was enjoying the intrigue of it all. I settled in with some blankets to sit on, and with my back comfortably against the wall. Then I pressed my ear to the wall of the closet. I could hear movement in the room, muffled footsteps. Then voices.

"You really do disgust me, Robert." I heard my mom say. The words sent a shock through me. It was as though she were scolding him! I pressed my ear tightly to the wall.

"I know dear." Dad said. "I want so much to make it up to you. I'm just a stupid ass."

"You got that right." Mom retorted without skipping a beat. "But what can you possibly do for me. As we both know, you're good for nothing."

I had to caution myself to control my breathing as these words were practically taking my breath away. I was beginning to believe that Molly's speculation was on target. I waited for more.

"Get up from there." Mom said in a harsh tone. "I didn't give you permission to kiss my feet, you fool."

Dad said something, but I couldn't hear.

"Tomorrow, Robert, when Jen is at work, you are to wash my soiled panties. You'll do it by hand in the basement. They had better be sparkling clean when you're done, or else."

"Yes, dear." came Dad's meek reply.

Wow! It was like he was her slave, or something. I wondered what 'or else' meant. It kind of excited me thinking about it!

Then Dad spoke up.

"Can I refresh you, dear?"

"Look", Mom said in an admonishing tone. "When you get eager like that and talk out of turn... well, it makes me think you don't deserve the honor of refreshing me, as you call it. I'd be careful if I were you."

"I'm sorry dear." Dad said, and I could detect a quaver in his voice as if he were about to cry.

"You're sorry, all right. You're about the sorriest excuse for a man I've ever met. But since it's one of the few things you can do properly then, yes, you can refresh me tonight."

"Oh! Thank you, dear!" Dad answered with enthusiasm. "I'll do a good job. You'll see."

"Okay, then. Shut up and get to work. It feels a bit dirty back there. Get your loser tongue going, and make me clean."

For awhile, I heard nothing. Soon, though, I heard soft moaning and whimpering sounds coming from Dad. Then Mom spoke.

"Deeper, you moron, and higher up. I can feel it's not clean there. What the hell are you doing, anyway?"

Dad's whimpering stopped.

"I'll try harder. I'm sorry dear." he said.

"I have standards, Robert, and you are not meeting them. I don't know. Maybe you're just not that interested." she said with affected nonchalance.

The next words were Dad's, but they were muffled.

"Better." Mom said. "Stay on task, little boy, or you'll have to go without."

There was another muffled and distinctly emotional response from Dad.

"That's it." Mom said. "Mmmmmmmm. Much better. That's my boy."

Well, my head was pretty much spinning as I exited the guest room and headed down the hall. So, Molly was right, and then some! Jeez! Dad was practically Mom's slave. And me taking all of his pedantic, bullying "guidance" over the years. All that time, he was secretly on his knees in the bedroom sucking his wife's ass. Just your basic wimp! It had my blood boiling until I saw that he was more than available to me as well. I mean, what could he say? He couldn't deny his 'role' in the family, especially if I were to relate to him a bit of his mild, whimpering protestations to Mom. Verbatim, that is! What a fucking loser. And acting the all-steady patriarch at the helm. Ha! A veneer that was headed swiftly to its demise. In any case, I planned on having some well-deserved fun that summer.

I took my time. For a week or so after my spying session, I merely observed my parents interacting. There were, indeed, subtle signs of their private relationship. The way, for instance, that he caved whenever there was a difference of opinion.

"Yes, I can see your point, dear." That sort of thing. Or Mom giving him a cold glare. He seemed to wither before my eyes when that happened. He would drop his gaze and stand in a submissive pose, hands at his sides, a sorry look on his face. I guess I'd seen the like of that before, but never quite thought of what it might add up to. Things were adding up now, however.

One day, Dad and I were out by the pool. I'm pretty much an athletic type - strong and lean, but soft in the right places. I swam laps every afternoon after work. I wear my hair fairly short, for the convenience mostly. Who needs to be fucking with long, flowing hair? Anyway, I didn't need a bathing cap; just dove right in. I was developing a nice summer tan, and I liked pulling the waistband of my swimsuit down so that I could admire the contrast of milky-white to smooth bronze.

When I was done swimming I called out to Dad, who was sitting in a chair next to mine reading the finance section of the paper.

I pulled myself up so that I could sit on the edge of the pool with my feet in the water.

"Hey, Dad," I said, "bring me my towel, will ya?"

He lowered his paper slowly and gave me one of his "I'm the dominant male around here" looks.

"What do you think I am, a pool attendant?" he snorted.

"Please Dad, be a good boy. Bring me my towel." I said, giving him a knowing, mischievous look.

"Good boy? What is this, grade school?"

"Sorry, Dad. Just thought you might like being called that. Young at heart and all that, don't you know."

Dad harrumphed a bit, then picked up my towel and brought it to me. I took it from him.

"Thank you, kind sir. You may go now." I said without looking at him.

"Are you playing some kind of game, Jennifer? If so, I'd like to be in on it."

"Don't worry, Dad." I said toweling my hair, then looking him right in the eye. "You'll get it soon enough. Oh, hey, what do you think about my tan?" I said, and pulled my bikini bottom down an inch or two for Dad to appreciate. He got all flustered, tripping over his words.

"Jennifer! That is utterly indecent. I can see your tan fine without you...you... exposing yourself like that!"

"Sure. Whatever."

Dad turned and walked slowly through the sliding glass door and into the house. It was with these small beginnings that I entered into a new and fascinating relationship with my father.

Dad was no dummy, and he deduced by my hint-dropping that I was privy to the nature of his 'special' goings-on with Mom. He wisely chose not to ask me anything about it, but his behavior towards me changed. And for the better!

I didn't have the full authority over him that my Mom did, though I was gleefully working up to that. Instead, I simply did what I wanted around the house. Especially when it was just me and Dad.

One Saturday morning, while Mom was at the hair salon, I decided to walk around the house wearing a light blue cotton tank-top and panties. It was very liberating, and nice to feel the air against my skin. I strolled into the kitchen humming a tune. I completely ignored Rob (at that point, I could only call him 'Dad' in an ironic sense), who was at the table chewing on a bagel. I opened the refrigerator door and adopted the classic spread-leg stance of a fridge surveyor. Not a peep from old Rob. I grabbed a yogurt and a peach and went to the table. Rob pushed his chair back.

"Aren't you gonna finish your bagel, Dad?" I said, using the word 'dad' in a clearly mocking tone.

"No, no, I've had enough." he said nervously. "Well, I'd better get going."

"How about cleaning up your mess first." I said. "There's the plate, the cup. What about the bagel? If you're not going to eat it, then toss it. Jeez. We'll wind up with roaches."

"We have no insect problem here, That's a ridiculous..."

At that moment he saw me looking at him, stripping him of his facade.

"Who's ridiculous?" I said, turning my chair ninety degrees so that we were face-to-face.

"No! You misunderstand! It's not who, it's just the notion that we could have, you know, insects, unwanted insects..." old Dad starting blabbing. But he stopped suddenly when he realized that he was staring at his pretty, young daughter who was slumped in her chair, legs spread apart. His eyes were riveted to my tanned thighs and the soft curve of my pussy.

"Anyway, Jen, dear, I'm sorry for not being clear." he said, now dropping his gaze to the floor.

"Apology accepted." I said, and went back to my breakfast. He headed for the door.

"I wasn't kidding about cleaning up after yourself, Dad. I know Mom would approve." I said, sending my most sardonic smile his way.

"Yes, of course." Dad said, making a snappy U-turn. Hmmmmmm. I could get used to this, I thought, as Dad hurried about his tasks.

"There are crumbs under the table. Better get the broom."

"Yes.Yes, Jen." he said, and I could see that he was getting himself squarely under my thumb. And without a bit of a struggle! He seemed rather to like it!

Once the kitchen event was in the rear view mirror, opportunities opened up at a clip. Whenever Mom was away from the house, I would seek Dad out, and our new life together would become richer and more enjoyable for me. Mom fancied herself something of a socialite, and was involved with charitable organizations. She also had lunch dates with lady friends, a bridge club, etc., etc.

Walking around the house half naked was a big turn on for me. For one thing, it reminded me that I was no longer in an oppressive household. In fact, I was in control of it!

After a couple of weeks of 'time with Dad', I was getting into a very nice groove. One day, soon after Mom drove off to a meeting of her garden club, I was in my room, lying on my belly reading a magazine. I like to see what kind of stuff is trending: clothes, jewelry, and the like. I don't really give a flying fuck for what's in or out. I'm just an interested spectator.

My door was halfway open, and I was wearing a light tee shirt. Yup. And nothing else. It felt so good!

I heard some noise in the hallway and, sure enough, 'little boy Robbie' was soon tapping lightly at my door. I just lay there, turning the pages. I knew that he could see into the room, could see my long, tanned legs, and my full, soft, creamy-white ass. I barely suppressed a giggle as I let him wait in the hall. After a few minutes, I spoke to him without looking away from the mag.

"Well, are you coming in, or not?" I said, turning a page. I heard him enter the room.

"Good morning, Jen. Did you sleep well?" he said, and I could hear the excitement in his voice. This was the first time he'd seen my ass since bathing me as an infant.

"Not bad." I said, lifting my feet up from the bed so that the soles faced the ceiling. I let my legs sway a bit from side to side.

"Hey. Go downstairs and make me a coffee. I could use a boost."

"Of course, Jen. I'll be right back!" Dad said, all aquiver with... what? Expectation? We'd see. Boy, I sure did love being in the driver's seat!

I could smell the aroma of coffee wafting through the house. Soon, old Dad came quietly into the room carrying a tray. Well, now! There was a big mug of coffee, a small pitcher of cream, two slices of buttered toast, a ramekin of marmalade, and a bud vase with a white rose. Dad was certainly trying hard.

"Leave the coffee and cream on the night table, and take the rest of that shit back downstairs. I didn't ask for it." I said, looking at him over my shoulder. I could see the disappointment on his face. Dad sure was fun to toy with.

"Go on." I said, returning to my reading. "When you're done doing that, wait outside my door until I need you again."

"Yes, Jen. Sorry about the..."

"Yeah, yeah. Get going."

In a couple of minutes, I heard the floorboards creak in the hallway, and I knew that Dad was taking up his post. I sat up cross-legged on the bed and sipped my coffee. I looked out the window. It was a beautiful, clear day, and the leaves on the trees were waving in a light breeze. A fine day, really, for fucking with Dad. I finished the coffee and summoned Robbie-boy.

"You can come in now." I said in a voice one might use in conversation with someone sitting across a table. I just knew that Dad had his ears pricked up out in the hallway. He took a few steps into the room, hands clasped in front of him.

"Let's see..." I said, thinking out loud. "What else can you do for me? I know. Get the hamper from my bathroom and bring it in here." I said, savoring my devilish plan.

Dad was back in a jiffy, of course.

"Dump it onto the floor, Dad." I said, and dear old Dad obliged. It made a small pile - some socks, a few tops, but mostly panties.

Dad was looking over the clothes and I couldn't help noticing a bulge in his pants.

"It looks to me that you have an erection, dear father." I said, and Dad immediately colored. It was hysterical!

"What's up with that, eh? Do your daughter's soiled panties make you horny? Sure seems so. Or is it the socks? Both?"

"I'm so embarrassed, Jennifer. I'm so sorry."

"Can it, Dad. I kind of expected as much. You're a pervert, aren't you?"

"I... I guess that... yes, you're right. Yes." he said.

"Okay. As long as we agree on that. So, do you think you could do a good job of getting the stains out of my panties?"

"Yes! I can do that. I have no plans for this morning." he said with true enthusiasm. I could see his eager little schlong shifting subtly in his pants.

"And if you did, you'd have to change them, right?"

"Certainly. Your needs come first, Jennifer."

"Do you have experience with this sort of thing?" I said. Dad knew full well that I had the goods on him being a submissive panty-washer for Mom.

"I do. I've done this for your mother many times, and the results have always pleased her." he said. It was the first open acknowledgement of his (heretofore secret) lowlife role in the family. Good progress!

"Okay then. But before you go to the basement to do this wash, I want you to show me what you're hiding in your pants. Doesn't look like much from here."

"You mean..."

"You got it, Rob. I want to see what you got from the waist down. Strip."

Dad slipped off his loafers, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his pants.

"All the way off. That's a good boy." I encouraged.

He stepped out of his pants, folded them, and placed them on the floor beside him. I rose up from the bed and approached him. His breath had become slightly labored and jerky since he began undressing. I came to within a few feet of him, all pussy and legs. I could see his cock doing a little dance through the cloth of his briefs.

"Hmmmmm. Getting kind of turned on aren't you?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"Shut up." I said, walking around him.

"Drop the shorts, shorty. and I think you know what I'm referring to."

His fingers were all nervous and fumbling as he pulled his underwear down.

"Leave them around your ankles." I instructed. Boy. Wasn't he a sight!

His cock was definitely on the substandard side as far as size goes, but it sure was hard! I reached out and gave it a light stroke with my fingers. It began jerking spasmodically. How cute!

"You're not exactly what we could call endowed, are you?"

"No." he said (duh), "It is on the small side."

"Had any good pussy lately, Dad?" I said, watching the cock perform. This last question seemed to put it into overdrive.

"Your Mom and I... well, we no longer have intercourse."

"Intercourse! Mmmmm." I said, again brushing my hand lightly across the head of his cock. "Don't you just love the sound of that word. It's so sexy." I said. "Robbie... you don't mind my calling you that, do you?"