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Daddy’s Little Slut

Taboo Domination and Submission Erotica

© 2012 Celia Sykes

Smashwords Edition

I’ll never forget the first time my daddy came into my room at night and slipped the sheets off of me as I pretended to sleep, running his hands up my legs to my thighs as I trembled with excitement. Looking back on that night, I was probably asking for it, stumbling through the door at sometime after 2 am, trying my hardest not to make a noise as I clicked the door shut behind me.

My head was still buzzing from the club. I was still a few months shy of twenty one, but I was good at charming doormen, and I had been going to bars and clubs for years.  All it took was a low cut shirt and a willingness to do whatever it took to get in. Now that I was back home, my goal was to make it upstairs before my stepdad woke up.

I slipped off my stilettos and held them in my hand. After all, heels make too much noise. I had learned that lesson the hard way a few years back.

I took my first step toward the steps when the light clicked on. Shit. I was caught.

“Hi daddy,” I said, trying to hide the surprise in my voice.

He stood up and took a long look at me. He still had his glasses on, and was wearing a grey t-shirt and pajama pants. I could see the outline of his muscles under his shirt, his biceps and his pecs. “Do you have any idea what time it is? What did I tell you about dressing like that and throwing yourself at men, Annie?  Christ, look at you. I can practically see your vagina. What would your mother think?”

Well, she wouldn’t think anything because she’d be too busy working to notice me at all. The dress was skintight and barely fell on my thigh, but I loved the way men paid attention to me when I wore scandalous clothing. It was like it gave me power over them. I puckered my lips and looked Ethan in the eye. I watched for a reaction as I pulled my dress lower, exposing more of my cleavage. I waited until I had almost exposed my nipples before I asked: "is that better, daddy?"

As out of it as I was, I could see the hurt and disappointment on Ethan's face. Even though he was my stepfather, Ethan was pretty much the only father I had ever known, and with my mother more interested in work than anything resembling family life, Ethan was the only one who had tried to keep me on the right path. Like her, he had had a high stress, high-pressure career as a lawyer. Unlike her, he had at least tried to keep up a façade about caring about me.

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