Vanessa the Daughter

Vanessa Smith listened incredulously to the words coming from her father's mouth. They seemed so surreal and unbelievable that they immediately sent a frenzy of self-argumentative thoughts careening through her mind.

"You're going to be our entertainment tonight," he had said. "Our little toy."

He spoke these words while one hand held her bicep, the fingers wrapped around her arm with just enough pressure to let her know she shouldn't move, his other hand cupping her cheek, turning her face up toward his. He stared into her eyes as he spoke, his pupils inches from hers, filled with an intensity that covered any lack of conviction she might imagine in his voice. Not that there was any. Not from Keith Smith, a man use to giving orders that were seldom questioned. A man who had spent most of his adult life demanding things and getting them.

Meeting her father's gaze Vanessa felt a combination of emotions surge through her. Mixed in with the uncertainty over what was occurring were sparks of excitement, apprehension and fear. All of this caused her body to tremble slightly, her knees to weaken.

She was a beautiful young woman, just eighteen years old, fresh out of high school and still troubling over what she would be doing with her life. Although college was an option she had decided to take a year off from school before attending, and so was looking for something to fill the time. That was why she was at her father's now, and available for the drama being played out. Her parents had split several years prior, their successful careers making it difficult for them to make the marriage work. Vanessa grew up in her mother's house, visiting her father on the other side of the state regularly. During those visits they had never really gotten close, he was always busy and she'd been a typical teenager, rebellious and more interested in clothes and boys than her father's world. But now, three months after graduation, she had come to see if he could get her a job.

"Nothing elaborate, Daddy," she'd told him. "Just something that might help me figure out what I want to do."

"I'll see what I can find," he'd assured her.

That had been on her first day there, two days previous in reality, but what was rapidly turning into an unimaginable time frame in the world he was taking her to. They had been in his office on the house's first floor on that day, Keith sitting behind his massive desk covered by folders, charts and documents, Vanessa standing in front of the furniture piece, her long legs reaching out from beneath the short denim skirt she wore, her large breasts straining her tight tee-shirt. She had thought on that day that she had felt her father's eyes rolling over her slim body, but had brushed it off as a figment of her imagination, telling herself that he wouldn't do that.

"Thanks, Daddy," she'd smiled, her face radiating with happiness.

She always felt like "Daddy's little girl" when around him and this time was no different. After the discussion in his office she'd taken her bags up to her room on the second floor and gotten settled in.

Her father's house had five bedrooms, only two of them without a private bath, and a large in-ground pool out back. Ever since Mr. Smith had purchased it Vanessa had her own room, her daddy allowing her to decorate it anyway she wanted, which meant it had experienced several changes over the years. Right now it was in a transitional stage between that of a high school girl and a college student. Posters of male actors and rock stars covered the pink and white striped walls. Her bed was covered by a soft pink spread with a few frilly throw pillows laying at the head.

Between that first day and now, when he held her cornered in her room, the two had spent very little time together. Just like always he was constantly busy, on the go, and simply tossed her the occasional greeting on his way out.

But then tonight.

And this.

This completely unexpected turn of events. This change in the way her father was talking to her . . . And the way he was looking at her.

As he stood towering over her his eyes slipped from their grasp of hers to slide down to where her breasts stood out, straining the material of yet another t-shirt. Underneath the garment the pair of fleshy mounds were encased in a bra, its outline evident. As his eyes stared at her chest, rising and falling slightly with her breathing, she felt a mixture of emotions once more roll through her.

She knew who he meant by "us," that was obvious. His buddy, John Larson, was standing only feet away watching the two as they worked through these first moments of the surreal experience. He had come over to the Smith house for a business dinner with her father, after which the two had adjourned to the living room for drinks and further discussion. That was where she'd found them upon her return from a shopping expedition, one that had turned into a fruitless effort to find just the right pair of shoes for a new dress she'd purchased. Politely she had stopped to chat with the two of them for a few minutes before excusing herself and disappearing down the hall to her room. During those minutes she had sensed at least one set of eyes rolling over her again and again, taking in the curves her tight jeans and t-shirt displayed so readily. Then, when she walked away, she felt them locking onto her small ass, tightly encased in the denim. Instinctively she swayed with a slight accent, a move that not only made her ass swing nicely but also caused her flowing brown hair to swish and sway.

Although she somehow understood she was wrong, she did manage to convince herself that it was only John's ogling attentions she sensed and that her father was not guilty of the mental undressing going on.

But now she knew how wrong she had been.

Less than thirty minutes had passed when a tapping on her door made her turn down the stereo and open it. That was when Keith stepped in, pushing her back easily with his determined stride and opening the way for John to follow.

"Da- Daddy?" She whispered, finding her voice finally after hearing his plans.

"That's right, Baby," his eyes rose from her chest to lock with hers once again. "We're all gonna have some fun tonight and you're gonna be the center of attention."

"Bu- But . . . Daddy," she whispered, her voice shaky with her disbelief.

"You heard me," he smirked. "Now go take a shower. We want you fresh."

With these words her father released his grip on her and took a step back. For a moment, one filled by thick tension, they became frozen in place then. Taking a deep breath Vanessa leaned back against the wall, her eyes rolling between the two men and filled with uncertainty. She saw the hungry little smirks they wore, recognized the lust filled glare of their eyes as they studied her body. Reflexively she felt her eyes drop until she was glancing between their crotches, gauging the bulges hidden within their pants. Realizing what she was doing she felt a shockwave of shame race through her and tried to scold herself but found herself unsatisfied with her own reprimands. Still frozen in place, her body resting against the wall's support, her eyes rose back up to look at their faces from beneath the loose strands of tresses which had slipped across her face. She recognized that several different thoughts were bouncing around inside her mind, each of them trying to find its way to the forefront to make itself dominate, but none were quite able to accomplish this. Inside her body, various emotions were mimicking the thoughts.

"Shower," her father's voice suddenly filled her ears.

The authority it carried jerked her body into action and she stepped away from the wall. On shaky legs she moved toward the bathroom. In a near trance-like state she pulled her t-shirt over her head as she walked. Tossing the garment to the floor she reflexively shook her hair out, the long tresses swishing softly. As she reached behind her to undo the bra she caught a reflection in the mirror. In it she saw her father and John standing behind her, their smiles widening as they watched her. The sight of them sent a hot shiver running along her nerves, one that blew hot air across the embers buried within her loins. She felt the coals warming, felt them being kindled into glowing redness and for a second she froze again, the realization of her body's reaction causing her a moment's concern. But then she saw the smile on her father's face beginning to turn into a scowl and knew she better keep going. Pushing the thoughts about what was happening and how it was affecting her away she unhooked her bra. Moments later it joined her shirt on the floor and was soon joined also by her jeans and panties. This last piece of clothing she kind of jerked off quickly and tossed aside as she dove through the bathroom door and headed for the shower, the sense of the two men watching her embarrassing her.

Stepping into the shower she soon stood under the hot water's massaging spray, feeling it cascade over her body. After a couple minutes the soothing sensation of it began to wash away some of her concerns and she nearly forgot what was happening. As she rinsed her hair, the water making the long tresses turn dark, thick and heavy, her mind began to work its way through the shock and surprise.

'What am I doing?' She thought. 'And what is Daddy doing? Where did this come from? What made him think he could get away with it? That she would go along with it?'

These were the first thoughts her mind was able to recognize, the ones born of society's taboos. But they were soon shoved aside. Other, less proper and shy ones, rose up to make themselves acknowledged.

These ones were not so much concerned as to why it was happening, but more with what, in particular, would happen. Would the two men take turns with her, one of them finishing before the other stepped up? Or would they alternate back and forth? Would they only penetrate her pussy? Or would they use her in other ways too?

Standing under the spraying water, her hand running a soapy washcloth over her body, she was suddenly struck by images of their crotches. Images she had collected earlier. Although she had not realized it at the time she now understood that she must have taken a few mental snapshots of these things in the living room since those she'd collected in her bedroom were not the only ones she could remember. The images flashing though her mind's eye caused the embers of her loins to heat up more, she felt her body grow warmer under the shower's spray, felt her nerves tingle with a surge of excitement.

This all brought with it a new emotion, one she had not felt, or at least recognized, until that very moment. One of shame. She could not stop admonishing herself for the growing desire she knew she was feeling at the thought of sleeping with her own father. Not only him, but him and another man at the same time. How could she feel any excitement at such a prospect?

Silently scolding herself she turned a little beneath the shower and that was when she became aware of her audience.

The shower had a frosted glass door, one that did little more than blur the view in either direction, and both her father and John were standing at the bathroom door watching her shower. Somehow she had remained completely oblivious to them until that very moment and the shock of seeing them standing their caused her to freeze in place, the soapy washcloth pressed under one breast where she had been scrubbing.

Vanessa could not make out any definitions through the steam and water coated glass but she could tell they were there. Slowly her hand slid down from beneath her breast, running the washcloth across her stomach and toward her crotch. Why she did this she had no idea, only that it felt like what she should do. As she reached between her legs she rubbed across her clit and felt a jolt of both surprise and passion shoot through her as she realized the little nub was sensitized by the warmth coursing through her body. This in turn made her take in a sharp breath and close her eyes, a mixture of shame and excitement rolling through her with the other emotions.

All of this caused her to feel extremely embarrassed once again and as she felt the color rising to her cheeks she jerked her back to the men. She finished showering like this, facing away from the door and those standing beyond and while she was acutely aware that this provided them with a steady view of her round ass cheeks she felt that to be better than having to see them herself.

During the rest of the shower, which actually only lasted another few minutes, she struggled with the combination of thoughts flittering through her mind. The clarity of what was transpiring, of what her father expected, of what he had told her would happen, brought with it more shame and embarrassment. This understanding of the inappropriateness of it all caused her to briefly consider ignoring her father and his friend. She toyed with the idea of getting out of the shower and telling them both to "Shove it" before packing a bag and leaving.

While she toyed with these ideas she knew she would not act upon them. The memory of her father's burning eyes and the force of his words coupled by the heated sensation of his hands on her arm and cheek made her knees grow weak even now. With this came a heating of her blood and she knew that she was not going to do anything other than what he had told her, no matter how taboo or strange it might be.

When she shut off the water and stepped out she was surprised to see that the men were no longer standing in the doorway. Toweling herself dry she wondered where they might have gone. She tried to hear them but the only sound to reach her ears was the turned down stereo in her room. Curious, she stepped out into her room while working her long hair with the towel, her naked body being cooled by the air.

"Very nice," John commented as she stepped into view.

The two men had not retreated very far. They were standing in her room holding drinks and waiting for her to appear. Seeing them she once again froze in place, her hair clasped between the folds of the towel where she had been working the tresses through.

"Go ahead and get your hair dried," her father encouraged her after a second.

Turning around she put her back to them and reached for her hair dryer. As she flicked it on she saw the men behind her in the mirror, saw their eyes roving up and down her legs and ass. During the next few minutes, while she dried her hair, she felt her knees weakening and her breathing grow labored. She couldn't stop herself from checking herself out in the mirror.

Her face was radiating with a glow, its freshness clean with no make-up. Her eyes sparkled with a strange, excited uneasiness. Her soft lips were nearly frozen in a shaky little smile that she could neither firm up nor make disappear. Further down, her breasts stood out from her chest. Light areolas topping their milky flesh, her nipples stiffening from the cool air caressing them. Between her legs, just barely visible due to her stance, a small patch of pussy fur sat atop her slit. Below it her labia lay, full and curving further down to disappear between her legs.

Once done drying her hair she stepped toward the men. As she took those few steps she felt herself growing hesitant, felt her mind telling her to stop the process of what was happening. But she couldn't listen to it and instead walked to a point a few feet in front of the two men where her father indicated she should stop.

"That's my good girl," he said, smirking openly.

Vanessa tried to meet his gaze but found that she couldn't. Diverting her eyes from his she then tried to meet John's but was unable to manage that as well. While she stood before them, feeling their eyes rove over her again and again, her own eyes became downcast, looking toward the floor. However they did not quite reach that far down and she soon realized she was staring at the set of crotches before her. A wave of hunger rolled through her as she saw the outlines of the men's stiffening cocks beneath their clothing.

Still, she was made to stand there before them, completely exposed, her naked body being eaten alive by their starving eyes. Pieces of her hair fell to cover her downcast face. Unable to lift her arms from her sides she left it alone. Nervously she shifted her feet a couple times.

"Get on the bed," her father said after a few more minutes. "Lay on your back."

Shivers ran down along her spine and her heart leapt within her chest.

"Da- Daddy?" She whispered, looking up toward him through the tops of her eyes.

From behind the lengths of hair obstructing her sight she saw him smirk even wider. Off to the side she heard John inhale heavily.

"Go on, be a good girl and get on your bed," Keith said then.

Again the shivers raced though her.

She found it difficult but did manage to force herself into moving. On wobbly legs she made the short journey to her bed and laid down, her head nestled into the lacy throw pillows.

The two men stepped up next to the bed to tower over her. She lay with her legs open just a little, her tits rolling on her chest, nipples growing stiffer with each passing second. Again she tried to meet their gazes and again she failed. This time though she managed to divert her eyes away from their crotches after only a brief second, rolling them to the side and closing her lids. Although she tried to deny it she felt the embers of her loins growing red hot with passion as the scenario played itself out.

"Now be a good little girl for us and play with your tits," her father said.

In the darkness behind her closed lids Vanessa heard her father's instructions. Within seconds, unable to stop herself, she felt her hands slowly move toward her chest. Her mind roared with thoughts from earlier, thoughts about the taboo of what was happening and how wrong it was. Still she could not help feeling a wave of tingles spark along her nerves as her fingers began to lightly trace themselves across her breasts.

Back and forth her fingers slid, gently caressing her flesh. They dipped downward then rolled back up. Over and over her tits they traced. Small, delicate lines being drawn, nails gently scratching. She felt the nerves being lit by her touch, felt them sparking hotter and hotter as delicious waves rolled through her.

Keeping her eyes closed, her face turned away, she listened to the men's breathing growing heavier above her. She knew they were watching her, knew they were enjoying her laying there playing with her tits. Against her own will this thought, coupled by the attentions of her fingers, made her loins grow hotter as well, the embers deep inside of her flaring up in flame, their heat starting to burn with her passion. Her own breathing grew heavier, her lips parted slightly so that she could pant past them, her tongue slipping out to lick them.

At some point her fingers glided across her milky mounds to caress her nipples, now hard and standing erect. The feel of this sent a blast of hot air across the flames and they roared higher. In her chest she felt her heart race as well.

"Da- Daddy?" She whispered without realizing it.

"That's a good girl," he whispered back.

"Oohhh Daddy," she panted, hearing his words.

Her hands shifted then, they moved into place so that they could cup her tits, cup and squeeze them, their pliant flesh being molded under the pressure. Taking her nipples between her fingers she tugged on them.

"Oooohhhhh Daddy," she panted, hot sparks shooting through her body from the hardened nubs.

The events were definitely having their effects on Vanessa. She felt her pussy growing hot, felt her own juices flowing to dampen it and felt her clit swelling, throbbing for attention. Her legs shifted upon the bed, spreading open a little further and allowing cool air to brush across part of her heated sex and her puffy labia.