The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

After the craziness of the night before, I was glad to sleep in that Sunday morning.

In addition to my indulgence, I was also gratified to see that both Marsha, my wife, and Chani, our eighteen-year-old daughter, also slept in.

I wasn’t quite sure how things would play out once the girls were awake. After all, Marsha went to bed feeling very confused, conflicted, and just generally upset.

Hopefully, our hypnosis session had taken care of that, but we’d yet to see.

Chani, on the other hand, seemed fine when she went to bed. But, with how crazy things had been over the past few days, anything was possible.

My worries were for naught, however. Both my wife and daughter eventually woke and went about their day. It was a completely unremarkable Sunday.

Well, mostly unremarkable.

There was something different. Something that had never occurred in my house before. It was my daughter’s behavior.

Like a schoolgirl in love—which I guess was very apropos—she openly and frequently found ways to demonstrate her affection for me, her ‘secret boyfriend.’

Several times I caught her staring at me with a silly grin on her face. When passing by each other, she made a point to steal a kiss. When I addressed her, she would respond with, “Yes, dear?” or “Okay handsome.”

I certainly wasn’t doing anything to discourage this behavior. In fact, I enjoyed it. What man wouldn’t want a beautiful, sexy, young woman going out of her way to reaffirm her love and affection toward him?

Late in the afternoon, all the gentle kisses, lingering touches, and ‘accidental’ brushes of her breasts against my arm or her hand against my crotch had worn me down. As Chani went in for another flirtatious kiss, I pounced.

Wrapping my arms around her, I pressed into my daughter, forcing her against the wall as I preempted her intended peck with something much more passionate. And that one kiss turned into an impromptu make-out session.

We had been carrying on for two or three minutes when I looked up to see my wife watching us.

Instinctively I froze, but quickly relaxed again when I saw the smile on Marsha’s face. Her expression made it apparent that she was happy for Chani and me to be sharing this moment.

Besides her happiness, there was something else in her eyes. It was a look of lust, a look that drew me in.

My arms were wrapped around Chani, and her’s around me. Our mouths groped. Our tongues danced. But my eyes, my eyes fixated on Marsha.

As I stared, Marsha broke the gaze and glanced down. I followed her eyes and made a remarkable discovery. Marsha had pulled her skirt up around her waist and was holding it with her left hand. Meanwhile, her right hand was inside her panties, slowly and sensually fondling her sex.

Marsha allowed me to watch her play with herself for a few seconds before retracting her hand and letting her skirt fall back into place.

Then, she slowly brought that same hand up, seductively, to taste herself before holding her index finger to her lips, indicating I should be quiet.

Next, she crooked her finger into a summoning, “come hither” sort of motion before abruptly turning and heading into our bedroom.

It was time to wrap things up with my daughter.

I’d been enjoying making-out with Chani, but making-out is NOT a standalone activity. For me, it is a precursor to sex. Like most men, I tolerate making-out because I know it’s likely to lead to something more.

Women, especially young women like Chani, have a very different view. They are often happy to make-out and nothing more, leaving their boyfriends frustrated (and sometimes angry).

To be fair, I had agreed to a ‘second-base rule’ with Chani. Sure, different people interpret the ‘bases’ differently. But for us, it meant nothing below the waist. And, right now, my ‘below the waist’ was desperately in need of some attention.

I had figured I’d take care of it myself later, but if Marsha was offering, who was I to say, “No”?

Over a minute or two, I slowed things down with Chani, then disengaged.

I told her how amazing she is, how beautiful she is, and how incredible she makes me feel.

I finished by telling her how much I was looking forward to picking this up again soon before giving her one more kiss and walking away to find my horny wife.

Over the next few days, we found a new ‘normal’ around the house.

Marsha and I had work, and Chani had school. All of that remained the same. Even our home life was mostly the same. The things we used to do, we were still doing. Activities such as cooking, cleaning, shopping, homework, etc., were happening just like they always had. Essentially, life was about 95% the same.

There were some marked differences, however.

The relationship between my daughter and me was very different. Instead of just being a loving and supportive father, I was also now a boyfriend. I was doing a lot less of the ‘dad’ things like assigning chores, offering advice, or acting busy when Chani wanted to talk about the drama in her life.

Instead, I was doing a lot more flirting, petting, and feigning interest in things like bands. (To be honest, though, Chani was pretty mature for her age, so conversation with her wasn’t unbearable. Far from it.)

Meanwhile, much of my old fatherly duties fell to my wife. And again, Chani was pretty mature, so she didn’t need a whole lot of parenting. As such, Marsha wasn’t overly burdened by the added responsibilities.

After the display of mother/daughter physical affection the other night, I was very curious to see if there were other changes in their relationship. But, nothing seemed to manifest. Maybe it was because Marsha had to pull back on being a “friend” to fill both parents’ roll. Or, perhaps it was because what happened had been fueled by alcohol. (I have certainly seen plenty of women lose their inhibitions when alcohol is involved.) Regardless, their relationship seemed mostly the same as it was before.

Probably the most significant change for me was spending the night with my daughter. It wasn’t every night, but I retired to Chani’s bedroom instead of my own on a couple of evenings.

With the ‘second-base rule’ fully intact, we mostly talked with a heavy dose of making-out thrown in for good measure. Though, I genuinely tried to make it about more than just the physical aspect of our relationship.

While it was true that this whole situation was mostly a cover for my perverted ambitions, I figured I should at least play my part to the fullest and try to be a good ‘boyfriend’ for my daughter.

That said, I wasn’t just a supportive boyfriend during our nights together. On the contrary, I took those opportunities to hypnotize Chani and reinforce her feelings toward me.

I had to be careful. I was concerned that Marsha might be spying on us, but even if she was listening in on the other side of Chani’s bedroom door, there’s nothing suspicious about two ‘young lovers’ whispering to each other. So, I just made sure to keep the hypnosis sessions quite.

Another noticeable change in the house was with Marsha’s attitude toward me, which she opened up about one evening.

“It’s weird,” she started. “I see what you’re doing for Chani. How you’ve been so kind and loving toward her. How you really are being an excellent example of what she should expect in her future relationships. It makes me so proud of you. It makes me so happy. It makes me love you even more than I already did.

“And yet,” she continued, “at the same time, I have feelings of jealousy, maybe even resentment. Which then makes me feel guilty for having such feelings. It’s been a bit confusing.”

I was already aware of the jealousy. It was the only thing that explained Marsha’s recent increased libido. Not only was she much more horny than usual, but she was also acting much more adventurous during sex, and she was mostly focusing on my pleasure. I had suspected it was her way of saying, “See, I can please you. I’m you’re woman. You don’t need anyone else.”

It had really been working for me because spending all this time with Chani was incredibly sexually frustrating. Whenever it got to be too much, I would get Marsha alone, and she’d inevitably be up for a romp. It had only been a few days, but we were fucking like back when we first met.

I listened to Marsha go on for a bit more. She’s my wife. I love her, and I want her to be happy. And, I want this thing with Chani to work out for as long as possible. So, I was more than happy to listen to and address my wife’s feelings.

There wasn’t a whole lot I could do, though, other than listening. So that’s what I did. (Well, listen AND, much like Chani, I’d hypnotize her to reinforce her new feelings and attitudes on the nights I’d spend with her.)

And that’s how things went for our first week with this new dynamic. Things were working out, and we were compensating for the few—and minor—hiccups.

Time passed quickly, and it had me excitedly anticipating the ending of our ‘second-base rule’ in a little over three weeks.

If we could avoid any complications, I’d be balls-deep in my daughter in no time.

“Avoid any complications...” Yeah, having two women under the same roof is a living, breathing complication, so I should have been expecting it when my girls sprung their “fabulous idea” on me first thing Saturday morning.

“Umm, Dad,” Chani started, obviously afraid of how I was about to respond. “Umm, there’s this thing, and look, you don’t have to, but I thought I’d be fun, I mean only if you think it’d be fun...”

“James, listen,” Marsha cut in, clearly eager to bypass Chani’s uncharacteristic uncertainty. “There’s a Halloween party that Chani wants to attend. She was supposed to go with Jessie, but well, you know. This is an important time in a young woman’s life, and even though parties aren’t really your thing, I think, as her ‘boyfriend,’ you should take Chani to this party and show her a good time.”

“Uh...,” I allowed my brain a couple of seconds to catch up to everything that had just been spewed at me. “Okay, so there’s a Halloween party...I’m assuming it’s tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight,” Chani clarified.

“Tonight,” I repeated. “There’s a party...tonight...for, I presume, Chani’s high school classmates. And, you want me, a clearly not high-school-aged man, to go with her?” I asked, obviously dubious.

“Yes, and relax,” Marsha replied, somewhat exasperated, as if my objections were invalid. “We’ve thought of everything.

“Really?” I responded, still unconvinced. “Please, enlighten me.”

“It’s simple. We’re going to dress you up as...actually, it was Chani’s idea; I’ll let her explain,” Marsha looked at our daughter, prompting her to take over.

“Well, first, daddy, I really want to go, and more than anything, I want to go with you. So please hear me out.” She looked so excited and called me “daddy”... my ability to resist was crumbling.

“I knew that we couldn’t show your face, but it’s Halloween, so that’s not too much of a problem. The real problem, as I saw it, was your voice. We needed a costume which would give you an excuse not to talk. And that’s how I came up with it.” She was beaming, obviously proud.

“Great, and what exactly is IT?” I prompted.

Her smile growing even wider, she told me, “We’ll be mummies going to prom. I have my dress from last year, and I vaguely remembered you owning a tuxedo, which mom confirmed.”

“That’s a cute costume idea. But how, exactly, does that solve the problem of me talking with your friends at this party?” I enquired.

“Simple, you’re a mummy. Mummies don’t speak; they groan and shuffle around,” Chani stated as if it was patently obvious.

“You sure you’re not thinking of zombies? I’m pretty sure Boris Karloff spoke,” I added though it was clear that no one cared.

“Huh?” Chani obviously had no idea what I was talking about, and my wife just rolled her eyes.

“The Brendan Fraser mummy spoke too, a lot...,” I added under my breath, but again no one cared. So I thought it best to move on to my next objection.

“Okay, admittedly, that’s a pretty good idea, but I haven’t worn that tux in years. I doubt I’ll fit into it,” I said, looking down and rubbing my gut with a look of mild embarrassment on my face.

“We thought of that,” Marsha chimed in. (Oh good, they took my gut into account. Sigh...) “If we need to leave it a little opened up, we’ll stick some bandages in there. You’ll look like a disheveled mummy.

“And, as a mummy,” Chani started in again, “if anyone tries to talk to you, all you have to do is moan a response. You’ll just be ‘in character’ all night.”

“Won’t people be suspicious?” I asked.

“Okay, first off, my dear, that’s pretty much how you act at parties anyway,” my wife added helpfully.

“And second off,” Chani took over, “I’m going to tell people you don’t go to our school and you’re a little shy. I think they’ll leave you alone.”

I sighed, “Fine, I won’t lie. This isn’t my first choice. But,” I quickly added before Chani became crestfallen, “You’ve planned it out. And if it will make you happy, then I’ll be happy to go. Hell, it might even be fun.”

Several hours later, I was all dressed up, and we were heading to the party.

I had to admit, the costume worked. The girls had really thought it through. They had bought a cheap generic mask and glued the bandages to it so that I could quickly and easily remove it. And they did something similar with the hands and a cheap pair of gardening gloves.

Marsha drove us, which felt a bit weird, but they both insisted. They wanted to keep up appearances, and me driving Chani in my car may have been weird.

These were her friends, after all. Someone might recognize the car. And, even if that was unlikely, I guess it made sense to be safe.

Plus, if anyone asked, and I don’t think they did, Chani could just say her parents insisted, since there was likely to be drinking at the party.

To my surprise, the party wasn’t half bad. I’m not typically a party person, but it was rather fun to pretend to be young again.

Plus, and let’s just be honest here, Halloween is pretty much an excuse for women to dress like absolute whores, and the ladies at this party did not disappoint. Between the suggestive dancing and constant, sexy selfie-snapping, the spectacle fully occupied my male brain. Hell, I barely noticed how terrible the music was.

Even Chani had somehow figured out a way—with her mother’s help, no doubt—to turn ‘prom-mummy’ into ‘sexy prom-mummy.’ Not that I was complaining. She looked incredible.

The first couple of hours were mostly dancing and drinking. I’ve never been one for drinking, and I was prepared to fake it by walking around with an empty solo cup all night. But, the first time someone offered me a drink, Chani just said, “Oh, he doesn’t really drink.” and that was it.

I guess that kinda blew a hole in the whole ‘driven by mom’ thing, but nobody seemed to ask or care.

In fact, I was overall rather impressed with just how chill this party was. Everyone was having a good time, but no one was going crazy.

Don’t get me wrong, two hours in, and there were definitely a few drunk kids. But for a high school party, everyone was pretty responsible.

To my surprise, Chani’s best friend Jessie was at the party. (Former best friend? I wasn’t sure how that whole thing was playing out.)

Initially, the two girls mostly avoided each other. Eventually, though, after they each had a few drinks in them, Jessie came over to introduce herself. I groaned a, “Nice to meet you,” in my best mummy voice. Chani apologized and said that I insisted on being in character.

Feeling like it was best for me to be scarce, I wandered off as the two girls got to talking.

I couldn’t hear much of the conversation, but I did hear Chani say “boyfriend” as she looked at me, to which Jessie gave her a somewhat startled look.

Maybe she was hurt that Chani hadn’t told her. After all, they had been best friends for years, and, as I understood it, their current rift was due to a boy.

About twenty minutes later, Chani found me sitting on the couch watching the few remaining dancers. As best as I could tell, these were all the single girls and guys as the couples had all peeled off to find dark corners a little while ago.

I had been entertaining myself by predicting who would end up with whom and how many more drinks it would take for it to happen. Thus far, I was only 0 for 3, but it was still a fun way to pass the time.

“Hey, handsome,” Chani said as she plopped down in my lap. “Sorry to abandon you, but I wanted to talk with Jessie.”

“No worries,” I responded before catching myself and switching my voice to a whisper, “I mean... No worries. Everything good between you two?” A quick glance around showed no one noticed my middle-aged man’s voice (or they were too drunk to care.)

“Yeah, as good as it’s going to get for now. But let’s not talk about that. Instead, let’s talk about what Jessie told me,” she said with a conspiratorial tone in her voice.

Based on the slight slur in her voice and the smell on her breath, I could guess that Chani and Jessie had enjoyed a few shots together. Whatever, it’s a party. And, if it took a little booze to get the girls talking again, I certainly wasn’t going to be upset about it.

“Apparently,” Chani continued. “Hunter’s dad...oh, did I tell you we’re at Hunter’s house?”

“Yeah, I think you mentioned it,” I whispered back.

“Well, Hunter’s dad keeps his study locked, so no one’s been able to sneak off into that room.”

“Seems like a good policy,” I whisper-replied, a bit leary of getting drawn into a drunk conversation. (I do hate drunk conversations.)

“And,” she continued, ignoring me. “Little Sherlock Drew...err...Nancy Holmes...wait...”

“I was always more of a Hardy Boys fan,” I interjected.

“Huh? Anyway, Jessie just happened to notice a key hanging up in the kitchen labeled ‘office.’”

Oh boy, this was feeling more and more like a drunk conversation.

“Which means she solved the case,” I said with a dash of faux enthusiasm and a big scoop of sarcasm. “I bet he would have gotten away with it too if it hadn’t been for you pesky kids and that mangy dog.”

“Hehe, you’re so funny.”

Oh boy, the dreaded “you’re so funny,” my daughter was drunk.

“No, Daddy...,” she started seductively.

“Shhh, Chani! Don’t call me that,” I said quickly, looking around.

She just rolled her eyes and continued. “No, Daddy,” this time she emphasized the word. “It means that unlike the bedrooms, and the closets, and the kitchen counter... no one is in there.”

“Oh,” was all I could say as my fully sober brain started to comprehend where my inebriated daughter was going with this.

“It means,” she continued, “we’d be all alone. Just us and the desk, and the bookshelves, and...the big, overstuffed leather couch.”

“Oh,” I added, starting to climb on board her train of thought.

“It means,” she said, this time leaning in and whispering in my ear, “no Jessie, no Hunter, no classmates...no...Mommy...and...none of Mommy’s rules. Specifically...” she drew out this last bit, “no silly ‘second-base rule.’”

“Ohhhh,” I said slowly as I began to fully comprehend what Chani was implying. Praise be to the gods of alcohol!

With that, Chani jumped out of my lap, grabbed me by the hand, and lead me through the house. When we got to the office, Chani produced the key and unlocked the door with minimal fumbling.

“Oh, it worked,” she exclaimed.

“You didn’t know if it would work?”

“Well, no. Jessie didn’t test it. She grabbed it earlier in case Cody showed up so that they could have the room to themselves. But he was a no-show, so she gave the key to me.”

“Cody, isn’t he the boy she was upset with you about?” I asked, trying to remember the argument that started Chani and Jessica’s falling out.

“Hey, you do listen to me!” Chani beamed as she leaned over and kissed my mummified cheek.

“Yeah, him. But that’s not important right now,” she continued, clearly not interested in talking about it.

“Of course I listen to you,” I said, my ‘boyfriend’ feelings somewhat hurt.

“I know you do, handsome,” Chani replied as she took my hand and pulled me into the study, closing and locking the door behind us.

There was just enough light coming in through the windows to allow me to take in the study. It was nice. I’ve got my home office too, but it didn’t compare. The dim light didn’t allow for a detailed examination; however, from what I could see, Hunter’s dad made pretty good money.

“Wait,” I said aloud, no longer bothering to whisper, “how did you know about the couch?”

“Daddy,” Chani began with fake exasperation in her voice, “let us recap your current situation. Your obviously horny and slightly drunk girlfriend has just gone out of her way to sequester you into a quiet, dark room with a big, accomodating couch. Do you think we should:

“A. Ask a bunch of dumb questions. Or...

“B. Focus on the fact that I’m trying to get in your pants?”

“Oh,” I said once again as I pulled off my mask. “Well, since you put it that way. I guess we can save the discussion on home decor for another time.”

“Good choice,” Chani sighed as she stepped into me and pulling my head down until our lips met. Then, while continuing to kiss, she guided me backward until I bumped into the aforementioned couch and sat down.

Still, without breaking the embrace of our—ever more frantic—kissing, Chani climbed onto the couch next to me. Rather than sitting, she was kneeling, making her a few inches ‘taller’ than me. This seemed to be deliberate as she leaned over me, taking a more dominant position than she’d ever done with me before.

As we continued to make-out, our hands roamed. I caressed Chani’s face and her back, and after a few moments, I settled with one hand on the back of her neck and the other massaging her breasts through her prom dress.

Chani was much more assertive than usual, much more insistent, as she pawed my chest, shoulders, and biceps. She was really getting into it, as evidenced by the animalistic groaning and grunting sounds she was producing.

Generally, I’m turned off by overly dominant women. (To each their own, but for me, it’s just too masculine.) But there’s a difference between dominating and being sexually assertive. Chani was doing more of the latter, and I was enjoying it.

Even so, I was taken by surprise when my daughter guided her hand down my chest, over my stomach, and firmly (yet still gently) cupped my groin.

Feeling my obvious erection, Chani purred, “Oooo daddy, is this for me?”

I moaned an affirmative response as I continued to kiss her, even as she spoke.

“You know, daddy...” she slowly pulled her lips away from mine, and her voice took on a more serious tone, even as she continued to caress my hardness.

“It’s been a crazy week. An amazing week.” Chani took both of her hands now and gently held my face as she lovingly and longingly looked into my eyes.

“One week ago, you helped me to say out loud, something that I’ve felt for a very long time. ‘I love you.’ And not only as a daughter but as something more, much more.

“It was one of the most beautiful and freeing moments in my life.

“Then, to add to that incredible moment, you gave me a lovely gift. You used your tongue and your fingers to make me feel things I had never felt before. Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” I began.

“Since then,” she continued, ignoring my interruption, “it’s been both amazing and confusing.

“And that’s okay,” she said, raising her voice to preempt my attempt at saying something comforting.

“I knew that this...relationship...was going to be complicated. And, I knew that we would figure it out together—all of us, together, you, me, and mom.”

I noticed that she was starting to tear up, and she must have realized it too because she reached up to wipe her eyes and chuckled, “Oh wow, I must be drunk. I’m feeling horny and sentimental all at the same time.”

I got the impression she wasn’t finished talking, so I just smiled and continued to look into her eyes as she signed and proceeded, “Anyway, that’s not where I was going with my little speech.

“What I wanted to say was that a week ago, when we confessed our feelings for each other and decided to become something ‘more,’ you made me feel amazing. I wanted to do the same for you that night, but I ended up falling asleep... I’m sorry.

“Then I was sure I was going to get the chance after our family night out and ‘fashion show,’ but mom kinda poured cold water all over that.

“And, for the past week, it’s been all I can do not to pull you into my bedroom and ravage you, or wake you up in the middle of the night and...um...express my feelings.

“But we did agree to mom’s ‘second-base rule,’ and I don’t want to mess this up, so I’ve been trying to honor it.

“The truth is, though, I was sure you’d be trying to talk me into breaking the rule. Mom cautioned me that ‘men only think with their dicks’ and that I might have to get stern with you. Not that you’d force it, but you know...

“Instead, you’ve been nothing but a ‘perfect gentleman.’ In fact, that’s why I wanted to come to this party so much. It’s no secret what happens at parties like this, and I was sure that you’d be all over me. But you’ve again been a ‘perfect gentleman.’

“Daddy, do you regret what we did a week ago? Are you mad because I haven’t returned the favor? Do you even want me in...that way?” Chani had again teared up, and the pain in desperation she was feeling—likely amplified by the alcohol—was evident in her voice. It was heartbreaking.

“Chani, Love, it’s been the same for me,” I quickly responded. “I’ve been so terrified that I might mess things up with you. I was afraid that if I came on too strong that it would scare you away.

“And, to be perfectly honest, I was afraid of hurting your mother.

“I’ve been trying to walk a tightrope at home because I love both of you so much.

“I absolutely love you, Chani. I’m am thrilled to be your ‘boyfriend.’ I’m not remotely angry with you. And, Oh My God, do I ever want you in ‘that way.’ It’s practically all I think about.”

“Really?” she asked with hope in her voice.

“Really. If you’re still not sure, why don’t you put your hand back where it was a minute ago and tell me if what you think.”

With a sly grin, she glanced down toward my crotch then gingerly placed her hand on it.

I was obviously hard, and I could tell she noticed by the way she cooed and her smile broadened. Then, without further prompting, she began to stroke my dick through my tuxedo pants.

“You know, Daddy, I didn’t get a good look at this guy the other night. Mom was kinda blocking my view. What do you say we rectify that now,” Chani said as she began reaching for my belt.

“Could you maybe help me get these mummy gloves off first? I suspect I’m gonna want my hands free,” I joked, lifting my bandaged hands.

Chani giggled at my predicament; then, she helped me remove the gloves. At first, she was mindful not to damage the carefully placed bandages, but I encouraged her just to rip them off. After all, I didn’t think I’d be worrying about how my costume looked in the very near future.

With my hands free, I pulled Chani back up to me and gave her a deep passionate kiss. I hoped to alleviate any remaining fears she might have as to my desire for her.

She accepted my kiss with equal passion but broke it off abruptly. Then, pushing my chest back so that I was lying against the arm of the couch, she once again flashed her wicked grin as she crawled back and onto the floor.

She maintained eye contact the entire time, and though it seemed she was trying to replicate the feline grace that my wife had demonstrated last week, I could see the anxiety in her eyes.

Finally, her head level with my groin, she again reached for and started to unfasten my belt.

“Are you sure, Chani?” I asked, worried that she might regret this in the morning. “You have been drinking, and I don’t want to rush things. I can wait, I promise, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Daddy, I just got done telling you I’ve been thinking about this for over a week. Yes, I might be enjoying a little liquid courage right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was planning on doing this before I even had a single sip tonight.

“Do you trust me to make this choice for myself,” she finished with just a hint of accusation thrown in.

“Yes, Love. I trust you,” I said, reaching out to caress her arm.

Seconds later, my belt was undone, and my heart rate had increased dramatically. I was so lost in my anticipation that it took me a few moments to realize that Chani was struggling with the dual clasp system employed by my (and most) dress pants.

Rather than let her struggle, I reached down and undid the inner clasp allowing my pants to fall open.

At that moment, our eyes met. I don’t know for sure what she was thinking, but I was having a momentary crisis of conscience.

There, kneeling at my feet, was my daughter. My DAUGHTER!. I had raised her, nurtured her, brought her up—to the best of my ability—to be a good and productive member of society.

Yet, just two seconds ago, I opened my pants right in front of her face. There was no mistaking what was being said by that action. I had just told my daughter to suck my cock!

And, for her part, she looked excited to do it. A little nervous, sure, but certainly excited.

Is this really what I wanted? We’d done a lot, but mostly it was me doing it to her. This was a huge step. If we did this, there was no going back.

As if reading my thoughts Chani, without breaking eye contact, simply said, “Daddy, I want this.”

I realized that, yes, I too wanted this. I’d wanted this several weeks ago when I first hypnotized Chani. And, I realized now that I’d wanted this even before that.

It was, perhaps, inevitable. My lust has long ruled me. Well, I’m not ruled by it perse; it’s more like we’re partners in crime. And together we had done dastardly things.

I broke eye contact and allowed my gaze to fall to her lips. God, they were sexy. I wanted them wrapped around my cock, and I wanted it now.

Years ago, I had turned Chani’s mother into my perfect woman by taking control of her mind and molding it. Now she was an amazing mother, an excellent wife, an accomplished nurse, and, when I desired it, the most depraved sex slave I could ever want.

I still loved her. I always did. I treated her well and respected her. But, I also used her to fulfill my sexual needs. It was, in my mind, a near-perfect arrangement.

She was getting older, however. All the exercise and healthy living in the world couldn’t change that. Just a few years ago, she could ride my face all night (something I particularly enjoy). But now, after just twenty minutes, her knees are hurting, and her back is aching. And, even if I use hypnosis to suppress the discomfort, she’ll just be in pain the next day.

Plus, I had learned so much since I started working with Marsha all those many years ago. My hypnotic skills and techniques were light years beyond what they were back then.

I’d often considered starting over with her, but the truth was I’d already changed her too much. Any more could break her.

But here, here, kneeling in front of me was something fresh. A young body in its prime with decades of pleasure yet to give. A near-pristine mind, ripe for manipulation and corruption.

She was my daughter, yes. I loved her deeply, yes. But seeing her on her knees, moments away from eagerly accepting my cock into her mouth, I knew that this was her place. This is who she was meant to be.

I wasn’t a monster. Not at all. I was helping Chani to achieve her ultimate potential. I was fulfilling my duty as her father.

My mind made up, something steeled in my eyes, and I saw Chani flinch, just a little in response.

My cock, which was already beyond half-mast, rose to its full length and girth, freeing itself from the slit in my boxer shorts. It was mear inches from Chani’s face, and try as she might, she was forced to lower her gaze and stare at it.

I gazed at her for a few more heartbeats, watching her eyes fixated on my cock, before I responded, my voice harsh and raspy with lust and authority, “I want this too. I’m ready.”

Chani hesitated for several seconds, her focus darting back and forth between my turgid member and my face. The air of confidence she had demonstrated just a couple of minutes ago fully sublimated, leaving behind an inexperienced young woman and all her self doubt.

Further exemplifying her uncertainty, she started mumbling, “I’ve, ah, never done this before. I mean, I’ve seen some videos, but..”

I couldn’t have hoped for a better response.

From day one, this had always been about dominating and corrupting Chani. The whole ‘boyfriend’ thing was always just a vehicle to empower that corruption; it was never the end goal.

Right now, Chani was timid, unsure, submissive. I could continue to be the ultra-supportive ‘boyfriend’ and gently reassure her, or I could take control.

I could use this moment, this very pivotal moment in Chani’s life (her first blowjob), to show her the pleasure of being submissive. The joy of giving herself over to her man.

This wouldn’t be a permanent change in our relationship dynamic. No, we had to do this at the right pace. Give her a little, let her adjust, reinforce with hypnosis, rinse and repeat.

If I did this right, I would never need to create an alternate personality, as I did with Marsha. And that was one of my goals.

So keeping that in mind, I interrupted her little apology expressing her lack of experience.

“Chani, it’s clear that you’re a little nervous. That’s okay. I’m going to guide you. Remember a week ago when you followed my instructions and told me what you liked and how to please you?” I reminded her, and she nodded the affirmative.

“Good, well, this is like that. I’m going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to do it. Do you understand?” I asked, almost sternly.

“Um, I guess,” she was a little hesitant.

“This is important. Proper communication is so very important. I’m going to tell you what to do. You will respond with, ‘Yes, Daddy’ or ‘I don’t understand, Daddy.’ Is that clear?”

She paused for just a second before responding, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good, I want you to start touching yourself. That’s it, reach down, inside your panties. Good.

“Now, look me in the eyes and tell me what you’re doing,” I said gently.

“I’m touching myself.”

“Yes, good. Keep touching yourself. Now, look at my penis.”

She lowered her eyes, once again taking in my manhood.

“Look at it. Look how hard it is. You made it that way, Chani. It’s hard for you. I’m hard for you. How does that make you feel, Chani?

“How does it make you feel to know that you...your smile, your laughter, your beauty, your compassion make your boyfriend’s penis hard?”

I could see the expression on her face shift. A moment ago, she was just a little confused as to what was happening, but now she was starting to surrender to my words and to the pleasure she was just beginning to feel.

I quickly continued before she could answer.

“Look at my dick, Chani. Study the shape of it, the head, the shaft, all of it.

“How does it make you feel to know that you...your sexy body, your gorgeous face, your amazing tits makes your daddy’s dick hard?”

She was following my instructions and staring at my member. I could see her eyes starting to glaze over, and her face begin to flush as the movements under her dress intensified.

Again I resumed before she could respond.

“Look at my cock, Chani. Examine it, every pore, every throbbing vein.

“How does it make you feel to know that you...your succulent lips, your dripping twat, your tight ass make your own father’s cock hard?

“How does it feel, Chani. Tell me. Tell me how it feels!” I nearly shouted but caught myself. I didn’t want anyone else to hear us.

The tone of my voice caught her by surprise, and she blurted out, “It feels amazing! I love it. I love how you make me feel.”

“Good. You’re doing so well. Now, lean in closer. A little closer... Now sniff it. Sniff my cock.”

She didn’t hesitate and started taking long sniffs.

“Take it in. That’s the scent of your man. Smell it. Learn it.”

She continued sniffing my dick, and I could tell she was enjoying the lustful and animalistic behavior. Not only were her fingers working overtime on her cunt, but I could see her hips thrusting, almost instinctually.

“Tell me, what are you doing?” I asked with absolute authority in my voice.

“I’m sniffing your dick.”

“And...?”

“Rubbing my vagina.”

“Your what?”

“My pussy...?”

“Closer. Your what?”

“My...um...my...”

“Your cunt,” I said matter of factly. Before asking again, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m sniffing your dick while I rub my cunt.”

“And it makes me so happy, Chani. You’re so sexy, and you’re turning me on so much, but whose dick are you sniffing?” I coaxed her.

“Um...yours...ah...my boyfriends?”

“Whose’s dick?” repeated, more forcefully.

“My daddy’s?”

“Almost...”

“My...um...I’m sniffing...my...f...my...”

“Say it, Chani. Say it, my love,” I pushed her, gently.

“My father. I’m sniffing my father’s dick.”

“And I am so proud of you. I love you so much, and you make me so happy. So one more time... Tell me what you’re doing.”

She visibly steeled herself before taking two long sniffs of my dick and looking me straight in the eye. Then, with a voice full of pride, she said, “I’m sniffing my father’s dick while I rub my cunt.”

I grinned at her, and she beamed back, obviously happy to have passed my little test.

“Now kiss it. Kiss your father’s cock like you’re making out with it.

Again, she didn’t hesitate. All the sniffing and wordplay must have built up the anticipation because she dove right in. She kissed and licked and tongued my cock with abandon.

It felt amazing, but based on the groaning and grunting that she was making, the experience was nearly as good for her as it was for me.

She seemed like she would have been content to do that for hours, but I wanted to move on to the main event before she got herself off with her fingers.

“That feels amazing, Chani. God, you are so good at that. I love it.”

She looked up at me and smiled, even as she continued to tongue my dick.

Unfortunately, with the way my pants and underwear were currently situated, she didn’t have easy access to my balls. I just knew that she would do some amazing things with that tongue of hers and my balls (and my taint), but tonight was not the night.

Looking down at her and again assuming my authoritative tone, I said, “It’s time, Chani. I want you to take my cock in your mouth.”

I could tell she was a little nervous still, but she complied. Steading my shaft with her free hand, she wrapped her lips around the head of my dick and began to suck hard. I almost started laughing but caught myself.

Careful to maintain a neutral and supportive tone, I said to her, “Easy, Love. It’s called ‘sucking cock’ or giving a ‘blowjob,’ but you don’t need to suck it like that. Just gentle pressure.”

She pulled off my dick, gave a slightly embarrassed, “Oh, sorry.”

“No, no,” I replied, “you’re doing great, especially for your first time. Just don’t worry about sucking so much. In fact, most of the pleasure comes from the pressure of your lips, along with the warmth and wetness of your mouth.

“Again, you’re doing great, and I definitely do not want you to stop!”

She resumed, and after bobbing on my knob for a couple of minutes, she again pulled off, swallowed a mouth full of spit, and asked, “Is that better? Do you like it?”

“Oh sweetheart, it feels fantastic. You’re already really good at this,” I lied. “I can’t even imagine how amazing you’re going to be with a bit more practice.”

Once again, she smiled broadly at me and got back to work on my dick.

Look, the truth is that cock sucking is a skill. It’s essential for a woman to feel like she’s good at it. That way, she’ll enjoy it and be motivated to get better.

I’ve known several women who loved sucking cock; I mean, absolutely loved it. I’ve even known a couple who could literally orgasm (or nearly orgasm) just from sucking cock.

I’ve also known a few who were miserable at it. They considered it a chore, and their performance showed it.

Ultimately the difference between these women all came down to their early experiences with cock sucking.

I wanted Chani to become a world-class cock sucker, so I told a little white lie to keep her encouraged.

This did leave me with a bit of a dilemma, though. Based on Chani’s performance, it was doubtful that she’d be able to get me off, and I hate to admit it, but she might even have trouble keeping me hard.

I wasn’t planning on fucking her, though. I wanted that moment to be more deliberate and certainly more special.

So I had to decide how I was going to get off in a way that fulfilled her desire to repay the attentions I gave her a week ago.

I had a couple of options, but in the meantime, I wanted to play a little more with her submissive conditioning.

So, I let her slobber on my dick for another minute or two before I spoke again, “Chani tell me what you’re doing.”

This time she knew what I wanted to hear, and she didn’t hesitate. “I’m rubbing my cunt while I suck my father’s hard cock.”

“Yes. And where are you doing that?” I asked, moving this little game forward.

“On a couch...?” She was once again uncertain.

God, it was a fantastic sight. My daughter, kneeling before me, one hand wrapped around my cock and the other working her slit. Spit covered her face. And her brows were knit together in mild confusion.

As she tried to figure out what I was asking of her, the perplexed look on her face reminded me of a younger, more innocent version of herself, and my cock surged with renewed life.

My pulsating cock didn’t go unnoticed, and Chani, thinking it a sign she answered correctly, turned and began to return her lips to the head of my cock.

“No,” I said sternly, interrupting her. “You’re on your knees, at a party, in a stranger’s house. So, again, tell me what you’re doing.”

It took just a second for it to click before she responded with confidence, “I’m at a party, in a stranger’s home, kneeling before my father and sucking his hard cock, while I work my sloppy, wet, cunt.”

Oh, that was nice. She knew exactly what I wanted, and she went for it. Good girl.

She looked at me for approval, which I gave in the form of a cocky grin as I said, “Good.”

With that, I stood up off the couch. My pants fell to the floor, but my boxers remained in place, my rock hard cock sticking out the hole in the front.

My sudden movement took Chani by surprise, and she was momentarily knocked back onto her ass, her hands flinging out to help catch her balance.

She recovered quickly though and repositioned herself, kneeling before me. One hand reached out and again took my dick, the other shot back between her legs.

Without being told, she immediately went back to sucking.

Chani must have been enjoying herself because just underneath the sound of her lips slurping my rod, I could hear her fingers furiously working her cunt.

“That’s so fucking good, Chani. Daddy loves the way you’re sucking his cock.

“Don’t stop, but as you work my tool, I want you to think about something. I want you to think about it hard.

“What type of girl, Chani, what type of girl sucks dick at a party?

“What type of girl goes to a stranger’s house, gets on her knees, and sucks cock?

“You know the answer, don’t you? Tell me. Take your spit covered lips off my hard cock, look me in the eyes and tell me,” my tone was insistent, not accusatory, not condescending.

She pulled off my dick and looked up at me. Her eyes were again full of confusion, maybe even a little hurt.

Remember, if you will, that I told you the key to hypnosis is not relaxation but overload! Over the past several minutes, I had been guiding Chani through a series of intense emotions.

Joy, excitement, lust, fear, anticipation, confusion, uncertainty.

She’d been cycling through all these emotions, and as she did, her conscious mind was becoming more and more overloaded.

I had just hypnotized my daughter with my fucking DICK. And now she was ripe for suggestion.

As she looked me in the eyes, I repeated my demand, “Tell me what type of girl goes to a party, in a stranger’s home and sucks dick.”

Her reply was soft, barely audible, and full of hurt and confusion, “A slut.”

“A slut,” I repeated back to her.

“And, what type of girl goes to a party, at a stranger’s house, gets on her knees, and sucks her FATHER’s dick?”

This time she couldn’t keep eye contact, and she looked away.

“No,” I said sternly. “Look at me. What type of girl goes to a party, at a stranger’s house, gets on her knees, and sucks her father’s dick?”

She turned her eyes back to me and answered in a voice filled with shame, “A whore.”

“A whore,” I again repeated back to her.

That was it. That was the straw the broke the camel’s back and pushed her over into a full-on trance. Her eyes had glassed over, and she stared at me.

If I didn’t respond correctly, she would start crying, become incredibly angry, or both, and then everything I worked toward would fall apart.

I had to do this just right.

“Do you think you’re a slut, Chani? Do you think you’re a whore?” I asked softly and gently.

“No...,” she answered in a quiet monotone.

“But here you are. You’re doing those things. You’re at a party, in a stranger’s home, on your knees, sucking your father’s dick.

And you like it, don’t you? Be honest. You like sucking your father’s dick. What does that mean, what does that make you?” I asked, speaking rapidly now.

“I...I...don’t...know,” she was right on the verge of tears; I had to pull this back.

“It means, my love, it means that you’re MY slut. You’re MY whore. And I love you even more for it.

“Allow that to sink in for a moment, Chani.

“And as you do, go back to sucking. Go back to sucking your boyfriend’s penis, your daddy’s dick, your father’s cock. Suck it and touch yourself.”

She complied, though it was much slower and lacking any enthusiasm.

“Because with each stroke on my cock, and with each movement on your cunt, you can accept that you are my slut. You can accept that you are MY whore.

“Up, you’re my slut.

“Down, you’re my whore.

“In, my slut.

“Out, my whore.

“And the more you accept it, Chani, the better you feel. Happier, hornier, in love. Stronger and stronger.”

The vigor was returning to her ministrations. She was getting into this mild form of degradation, and I loved it.

“You’re my slut. Feel how happy that makes you.

“You’re my whore. Feel how in love we are.

“You’re my slut and my whore. Feel how turned on you are.

“Each stroke makes it stronger.

“Each stroke and it sinks in deeper.

“Feel it, know it. Happy, Horny, In love.

“My slut. My whore.

“I’m going to count from 10 to 1, and with each number, you will feel more and more like my slut. You will feel more and more like my whore.

“With each number, you will know that this is WHO YOU ARE. You ARE my slut. You ARE my whore. It’s just who you are, and it feels incredible.

“Ten, more and more, you are my slut. More and more, you are my whore. Now you say it. ‘More and more, I am your slut. More and more, I am your whore.’”

Mumbling around my cock, not stopping, she did her best to repeat the phrase.

“Nine. More and more, you are my slut. More and more, you are my whore.” As I spoke, she continued her mantra. It completely ruined the blowjob; in fact, it would have been funny if it wasn’t so goddamn hot.

“Good. Feel how good that feels.

“Feel it building inside you.

“Eight. More and more, you are my slut. More and more, you are my whore.

“You’re getting closer and closer to fully accepting this simple truth.

“Seven. More and more, you are my slut. More and more, you are my whore.

“You’re getting closer and closer to accepting who you are.

“Six. More and more, you are my slut. More and more, you are my whore.”

With each number, Chani had continued repeating. Her arm and hips were a blur as she frigged herself frantically.

I continued. “Five. More and more, you are my slut. More and more, you are my whore.

“When you fully accept who you are, you will have the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

“Four. More and more, you are my slut. More and more, you are my whore.

“Closer and closer to orgasm. Stronger and stronger.

“Three. More and more, you are my slut. More and more, you are my whore.

“Almost there. So close. So strong.

“Two. More and more, you are my slut. More and more, you are my whore.

“You’re right there. Know it, believe it, accept it, become it.

“One. Now! Say it! Shout it! Be it!”

With her lips still wrapped around my shaft and her body convulsing in orgasm, she shouted at the top of her lungs, “I AM my father’s slut! I AM my father’s whore!”

With that, I saw her eyes roll back as she slumped to the ground, still convulsing in diminishing waves.

I did my best to guide her down then I put a nearby throw pillow under her head as she experienced orgasmic aftershocks for the next couple of minutes.

Eventually, she stirred, opened her eyes, and saw me sitting on the floor next to her prone form.

“Oh my God, Daddy. That was amazing! Wow, I’m still tingling,” she said to me, obviously overjoyed at what she’d just experienced.

“Yeah, tell me all about it,” I prodded. It’s a simple technique—asking such an open-ended question. It helped to verify that the hypnotic subject experienced/remembered what you wanted them to.

“It’s hard to describe,” she started. “I was sucking your cock. Hehe, yeah, god damn, I was sucking my father’s hard cock,” she squeezed her thighs together as her smile broadened even further.

“And you told me I was your slut and your whore. It was just so weird because when you said it, it just felt...right. Like, I said to myself, ‘I am my father’s slut, I am my father’s whore.’ And when I did, it just made me so happy. I realized just how much we love each other. And how yes, I do want to be a slut and whore for you.

“The more I thought about it, the stronger those feelings grew until I just came so hard I must have passed out.

“Oh, Daddy. I love you so much!” she stared lovingly into my eyes.

“I love you too, sweet...,”

“Oh shit! Daddy!” Chani interrupted me in a panic.

“What? What is it,” I was suddenly concerned that something was wrong.

“I did it again! You didn’t cum, did you? Oh, no. I’m so sorry,” she was clearly distressed and immediately started getting up and moving back toward my groin.

“Sweetheart, it’s fine,” I tried to soothe her.

She just started reaching out, presumably to fish my now mostly limp dick back out of my boxers, when the sound of my phone vibrating against the floor gave her pause.

I reached down into my pocket, my pants still pooled around my ankles, and retrieved my phone.

“Oops,” I said, staring at the display.

“What is it?” asked Chani. “It’s mom, isn’t it.”

“Yep, it’s your mother. Actually, it’s been your mother for the past 20 minutes. She must have arrived not long after we got into this room. I didn’t notice because...well, I was pleasantly distracted,” I smiled at my daughter.

“But,” I continued, “any further distraction will have to wait because otherwise, your mom’s going to be pissed.”

“What about...?” Chani glanced at the hole in my boxer shorts. “I wanted to give you something special,” she pouted.

“Oh, you have, sweetheart, and I promise you’ll get the chance to finish what you started soon enough.”

“Not with Mom around. Trust me, as her daughter, I know that it’s nearly impossible to sneak something past her, even when she’s at work,” she said, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

“We’ll figure it out, Chani. I mean, sneaking behind your parents’ back is part of the young love experience. The only difference is that this time, your boyfriend is also one of your parents,” I chuckled.

“Trust me. Tonight will be our secret, and we’ll find a way to do more ‘secret’ things. I bent down and kissed her. “Now, let’s get cleaned up and go find Marsha.”

Ten minutes later and we were climbing into my wife’s car.

“What the hell, James? I’ve been sitting here for over half an hour,” Marsha declared, clearly annoyed.

“I’m so sorry, Marsha. My phone was on vibrate, and I just didn’t notice it. It’s completely my fault,” I replied in my most apologetic voice.

Marsha gave me a quick once over and based on her deadpan stare, it was clear she was suspicious of my somewhat disheveled costume.

That was easy to explain away, though, dancing, going to the bathroom, etc.

It would have been much harder to explain the musky scent emanating from Chani’s nether regions. Let’s face it, nature decided that when a woman is extremely aroused, everyone should know about it.

But, like the enterprising young slut she was, Chani had made a command decision and ran to the bathroom to discard her sodden panties and give herself an impromptu sponge bath before we left the party.

Hopefully, it was enough that my wife wouldn’t notice.

The short drive home was uneventful. Everybody was pretty tired, and even if Marsha had been upset, she got over it quickly.

She asked a couple of general questions about the party, which Chani answered. Though it was clear from Chani’s tone that she was tired, and Marsha didn’t push.

After arriving home, we both said goodnight to Chani, and then Marsha and I headed for our bedroom.

“So,” Marsha prompted, “did you behave yourself.”

“Baby,” I replied in my best ‘good boy’ voice, “right now, my balls are bluer than the deep blue sea. You should be proud of me.”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked a response. “Was there a lot of temptation at this party?”

“Wall to wall nubile teens. Each and every one of them drunk and horny,” I replied only somewhat sarcastically.

“Didn’t Chani help you out?” Marsha slyly enquired.

Was she trying to entrap me? Hmm.

“If you mean, ‘did she help to create these massive blue balls?’ Then the answer is yes. It was a high school party. I don’t deny some heavy petting took place,” I attempted to placate my wife with a half-truth.

“But you kept the ‘second-base rule?’” she asked with a slightly accusatory tone.

“To my total frustration, dear,” I replied with a hint of annoyance.

“Well, good. I’m proud of you. And...,” she added with a hint of seduction. “I think you deserve a little reward.”

“Oh really,” I replied as Marsha moved toward me, sensually placing her hand on my chest.

“Really,” she said before quickly removing her hand and stepping toward the bedroom door as if to leave. “But first, you smell like booze and weed. Go get a shower.”

I didn’t think I smelled. I mean, there were a couple of people smoking weed at the party, and I was around plenty of booze, even if I didn’t partake. Oh well, maybe I did stink.

I disrobed, throwing my costume into the corner, and headed into our bathroom to shower.

Apparently, Marsha wasn’t joking about my reward because when I came out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel wrapped around my waist, she was lying on the bed in a sort of “I’m your’s” pose.

She was wearing one of her nighties that was not quite lingerie. Sexy but still comfortable, it said, “I’m open to sex, but I’m happy to sleep in this if nothing happens.”

She smiled at me, and it was sweet. Over the past week, she’d been rather amorous, a recent development fueled by her mild jealousy over Chani.

It had been fun, but while our encounters had been more passionate, they had lacked some of the romantic intimacy that long time partners can enjoy during sex.

Her smile told me that she was looking for tonight to be less sex and more lovemaking. (It also said, “Hey, it’s late, let’s just enjoy something gentle and get to bed.")

It was a beautiful smile, and it genuinely warmed my heart to see her like this. She was my wife, my partner, and I love her immensely.

Unfortunately, I was also horny and frustrated. Chani really had left me blue balled (not that it was ner fault). Between her and all those tight bodies in sexy costumes all night, I was fucking horny.

Sweet, gentle lovemaking just wasn’t going to cut it.

I smiled back at Marsha, my face reflecting the love she was showing me, as I walked to the bed and allowed the towel to fall to the floor.

Then without even a hint of guilt, I reached into my nightstand drawer, pulled out Ashley’s collar, and showed it to Marsha.

Almost instantly, Marsha’s face went slack as she sat up into a kneeling position and presented her neck to me as a way of asking to be collared.

I obliged her silent request and clasped the leather collar in place.

Then, as if waking up, Marsha’s, or rather Ashley’s, eyes came into focus, and a broad smile spread across her face.

“Master, this one is so happy to see you!” she stated, the joy on her face matched by the joy in her voice.

“I’m happy to see you too. Shall we begin?” I asked.

We went through our usual routine. Ashley I and each said our parts, once again reinforcing this sub-personality and her role in our lives.

After completing our little ritual, Ashley wasted no time in crawling between my legs and promptly impaling her throat on my cock.

I was already at half-mast, but as usual, the sight and sensations of Ashley’s enthusiasm brought me to full erection.

I watched her and enjoyed the feeling of her bobbing up and down, deep-throating my member. As I did, it occurred to me that we had fallen into a bit of a rut.

It felt like not too long ago when I brought Ashley out to play, it meant I was in for a long night of wild sex.

Lately, however, it was always the same. She’d suck me, then ride me in her pussy for a while before sliding forward and taking me in her ass.

She was more than happy to do all the work while I just laid there, and I’d become happy to let her.

I resolved to try and be more creative with Ashley. Sure, she was my sex slave, and—from a certain point of view—she wasn’t even a real person, but still, she’d been part of my life for many years, and I felt she deserved better.

However, I put those thoughts on the back-burner as she extracted my cock from her throat and straddled my waist.

She was a sexual diva who had spent nearly twenty years perfecting sex with one person, me. So, it was no surprise when she was able to guide my manhood into her warm, wet hole completely hands-free.

An act that was enhanced visually by the way she was playing with her tits and her succulent ‘mom nipples’ that I just fucking love.

“Oh god, Ashley, I seriously fucking needed this.” I grabbed her waist to help control the pace as I kept talking, feeling chatty for some reason.

“Chani, got me so turned on tonight but left me hanging,” I groaned out the words as Ashley’s expert movements had me already feeling close.

“I’m not sure how long I’m gonna last tonight. We probably won’t have time for anal,” I informed her.

“No, anal. Oh, Master, you must be backed up. You love anal. And so do I,” she said seductively.

“You haven’t talked to me about Chani yet. I only know what Marsha knows. Tell me, Master, have you fucked her yet? How was she? How does her tight, little, teenage twat feel wrapped around your hard cock. Tell me!” she cried out as the thought sent her into her first orgasm. (It never took much for her.)

However, it wasn’t a particularly powerful orgasm as Ashley hardly missed a beat before she resumed grinding on my dick.

“No. Not yet. It might have happened tonight, but things were cut short,” I did my best to respond as it took more and more of my concentration not to cum.

“Oh really,” Ashley purred. “What about Marsha’s ‘second-base rule?’” she laughed derisively, obviously finding the very concept patently absurd.

“Master,” she said suddenly, her tone urgent and more serious, “will I get to play with Chani?”

“Please, Master,” she begged me. “I want to be used by your daughter. I want her to make me do deplorable things. Tell me, Master, what do you want her to do to me? I know you’ve thought about it. Please, Master, tell me...

“Do you want to watch us make-out?”

“Yes,” I responded.

“Do you want to watch me eat her cunt?”

“Yes,” I concurred.

“Do you want to watch her eat me?” she asked, emphasizing the word “me.”

“Oh,” she continued, not waiting for a response. “Based on how your dick just throbbed, I know the answer to that question. This is a fun game. I’m going to name things and let your dick answer for you.”

That was fine by me; I was so close it was hard enough to talk as it was.

“You don’t want her to dominate me, do you? At least not all the time. No, I know my master. He wants to dominate both of us. Don’t you master?

“You want to watch us do depraved things to each other.

“You want to watch her eat my ass.

“You want to watch me eat her ass.

“You want to make us eat your cum out of each other’s pussies.

“Hmm, I felt that. I must be getting closer.

“Eat your cum out of each other’s asses... Oh yes, there it is.

“Ooh, I know something you like, something you’ve always wanted to see. And now you’ll get to see your own daughter doing it.

“Can you imagine it, Master? Can you imagine your own daughter between my legs lapping away?

“Can you imagine her shock when I allow a trickle of piss out?

“Can you imagine as her face fills with perverted lust and she begins sucking and licking my piss soaked cunt with total abandon?

“Can you?

“Imagine it, Master. Imagine me pissing all over your daughter’s face.

“Imagine me pissing right into her mouth.

“Imagine her little whore mouth filled with my piss. Lapping at it, even swallowing it.

“I know you’ve thought about it, my perverted, depraved, master.

“Tell me, Master, tell me you want that, and I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.”

“Fuck yes,” I groaned as I clenched her hips even harder and made to bury my cock to the hilt. “I want all of that and worse!”

Realizing I was about to blow, Ashley deftly wriggled out of my grip, jumped off my cock, and flipped around to take my full length in her throat once more.

And, even more impressively, she held it there as I bucked and jerked as shot after shot of hot semen filled her gullet.

Once I calmed, she carefully removed herself from my cock, and looked at me with a look of genuine apology on her face.

“I’m sorry, Master. I sensed you wanted to cum inside me, but that would have confused Marsha if she noticed it in the morning. She only intended to give you head tonight. So that’s what she’ll remember doing,” Ashley explained, clearly concerned that I might be upset.

“No,” I responded, “you did right. Thank you, Ashley. I’ll leave the rest to you.” And with that, I pulled the blankets up and closed my eyes.

“Of course, Master. I will clean up and put the collar away before going to sleep. Good night, Master.”

“Good night, Ashley.”

Within seconds I was fast asleep.

We all slept in the next morning, and as often happens on the weekends, the three of us found ourselves sharing the dining room table eating breakfast or drinking coffee.

Marsha asked about the party, and Chani was happy to answer her. Apparently, there was all sorts of stuff going on that I was utterly oblivious to.

Chani even volunteered the info about her conversation with Jessica. She didn’t give much detail, just a summary of their interaction.

As it turns out, Jessica was surprised to see Chani had a boyfriend with her. This whole dustup of theirs stemmed from Jessie thinking that Chani was trying to ‘steal’ a boy that Jessie liked. So seeing Chani with someone else calmed her down enough to listen when Chani said she wasn’t interested in that boy.

I guess Jessie got slightly offended that Chani wasn’t interested in the boy, Cody, as if it implied Chani was better than him or something. So they still weren’t perfect, but things were moving in the right direction.

Thank god. I just can’t deal with drama.

About an hour later, Marsha had left for work, her double shift this week, and I was still sitting at the dining room table reading the paper when Chani sat down across from me.

“So, daddy,” she began, “I’d like to talk about our new little secret.”

“Oh,” I responded, “you mean about what happened at the party?”

“Yeah...not that, oddly enough,” there was something weird in her voice.

“You see, Dad, last night, not long after we got home, Mom came into my room to talk.

“She told me that she was planning on giving you a blowjob and asked if I wanted to watch,” Chani continued matter of factly.

“Oh, really,” I said, starting to get a little worried about where this might be heading.

“She said it would be “educational,” and it was only if I wanted to. For a second, I thought that maybe you had told her about the party, but I figured she would have been angry, so I just kept my mouth shut and went along.

“She told me that the ‘second-base rule’ was still in effect, and she didn’t want to send you mixed signals, so it was going to be a secret.”

My stomach dropped, but I tried not to let it show on my face. Was Chani in the room last night? What did she see? Of, fuck!

“I was still kinda horny and thought it might be fun, so I agreed,” her tone was becoming a little sharper, almost accusatory.

“You did? But...,” I managed before Chani cut me off.

“Yeah, while you were in the shower, Mom helped me hide behind the curtains. I was sure you would see me, but Mom said it was dark enough and that you’d be distracted, so I was safe.

“So, there I was, hiding behind the curtains when you came out of the shower...,” she left it hanging for several heartbeats, as my mind raced to find some excuse.

I was just about to play the whole thing off as a bit of roleplay that Marsha and I did, but Chani beat me to the punch.

“I talked to Mom this morning. It was challenging, but I managed to get her version of the events last night. And, oddly enough, she remembers giving you a few minutes of ‘gentle’ oral sex before falling asleep.

“She apologized to me for not helping to smuggle me out of the room. She attributed it to being ‘very tired’ and falling asleep right after you climaxed.

“Which brings me to our newest ‘secret.’” And with that, Chani reached under the table, into her lap, and produced the Ashley collar, setting it on the table.

“Care to explain this...?”