Baby Doll

"What is it?" he asked, seeing that she was on the verge of really breaking into a fit.

"Nothing," she whispered, as she got up from the table and walked as fast as she could, practically ran, to the gazebo shaded by birch trees at the back of their property. She just had to get away from him.

"Cassie, wait!"

He caught up with her, but she wouldn't turn around.

She couldn't face him. She simply couldn't do it. He tugged at her elbow, but she jerked her arm away with a little sob.

"Cassie," he said, quietly. "Please look at me."

And then, "Look at Daddy."

Cassie gasped, and closed her eyes. She hadn't called him that since she was a little girl. She hadn't ever heard him call himself that. But he was now. And they both knew why.

She didn't think she could ever describe the strength of the emotions that exploded within her—a mixture of the sweetest, the deepest, the most tender love, and at the very same moment, the most intense, all-consuming lust, instantly coursing through her body, making her nipples harden and her pussy gush with wetness. She felt like she could almost come right then and there. Hot, throbbing waves of pleasure shot out from her pussy and her stiffened clit. She knew, knew he must feel it too. She knew if she touched him she'd find him rock hard.

For just a moment she gathered herself, and then turned around to face him, flushed and breathing heavily. She still could not look him in the eye.

But he put his hand under her chin, and tilted her head up, forcing her to. His hand touched her cheek, and she leaned into it.

His eyes were so warm and soft, his gaze a loving caress.

"God . . . You are so beautiful."

His thumb moved to her lips, and traced their fullness along with his words.

He whispered, "I know things have been different between us. I know that. I know things have changed. It's my fault. All my fault."

She tried to shake her head "no," but she could only stare, helpless, enraptured. She had no control over herself.

She could tell he had been through some kind of terrible struggle. He had wanted, needed, and dreamt of doing this, for how long she did not know, and now that he had touched her, he could not stop. His hands framed her face, sunk into her hair; he feasted on her every gorgeous feature and searched her eyes with his own.

"Tell me, baby" he said, "Be honest. Have you thought about Daddy?"

She nodded slowly, whispering, "Yes."

It wasn't exactly true. She hadn't—not consciously, not specifically. She'd only pictured him. But it was "Daddy" making her writhe in torment on her bed—wanting, needing, only Daddy's touch. It wasn't until he'd said it that she knew.

He was so smart. He knew. He knew exactly what she needed.

"Let me handle this. Let Daddy handle this. Alright? Will you do that?"

And not long after that, they had met for the first time in the apartment.

+++

Cassie forced herself back into the present moment.

"Did you mean what you said last night?" she asked him.

Larry stopped working to address her. "Which part?"

"About going to the shore?"

Larry immediately glanced towards the house to make sure they were alone, then leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. "Yes. Of course I did."

"Alright."

"So I'm going to be gone for a few days. I'll be tending to some sites up north."

"Oh," she said, disappointed. "When will you be back?"

"Tuesday night. I was going to come 'Say good night' to you tonight before I leave."

That made her break into a happy smile.

"Ok."

"Will you be ready for me?"

Cassie nodded, as an ache of anticipation settled in her belly. It was something to look forward to all day. . .

+++

Hours later, when the rest of the house was asleep, Larry knocked softly on her bedroom door, and let himself in without waiting for a response.

He locked the door behind him, and when he saw her he got instantly hard.

She was sitting sweetly on the edge of her bed, looking sexy in a white, skin-tight baby T stretched across her bare breasts. It ended just below her navel, laying bare several inches of her flat, sexy tummy, and a pair of tiny white cotton panties on her perfect, rounded hips. Lastly she had on white ankle socks edged in lace around the folded down hem. Her hair was curled and her face exquisitely made-up, like a doll, her blue eyes fringed with heavy lashes and her pink lips shiny and full.

Cassie had spent hours getting ready, loving the ritual almost as much as she loved seeing him. She sat waiting with her hands tucked under her thighs, which had the effect of pushing her big tits together and making them just burst forward, barely contained by her tiny cotton shirt.

"Do you like it?" she said, while spreading her silky smooth thighs just a bit more.

Larry felt his cock pulsing heavy, hot, and hard, the head pushing against the fabric of his jeans and leaking out cum. The need, the lust, that burst out between them like this, behind closed doors, with no one else knowing, just Daddy and his Baby Girl, was unlike anything he had ever known. Her gaze was pure honey, lustful and sensuous, yet so trusting and adoring of her Daddy, coming in to say goodnight to her.

"Yes, Daddy likes it," Larry said, his voice made a bit hoarse and husky by his intense arousal. "Did you do this for me?"

"Yes," Cassie said, "I did."

"Good, good," Larry said, as he was finally able to do something besides stand there, stunned. He walked over to her, planting himself between her slightly spread thighs and wedging them a little further apart. His cock was so big and hard and blatantly visible, right in her line of sight, though Cassie kept her gaze fixed on his face.

"Very good girl, doing this all for Daddy. See what you do to me?"

"Oh! . . ." she gasped, feigning surprise as her blue eyes latched onto his rigid cock, perfectly defined through his jeans. "Can I . . .?" she whispered, though her hand was already reaching forwards, desperate to touch.

"Just a little, Baby Girl."

Cassie ran her fingers lightly across his massive bulge, both of them silent for a moment as the presence of his cock seemed to fill the entire room. She felt the long, rigid shaft, as solid as an iron bar, her sensitive fingertips gauging inches and girth, her nipples hardening at the realization of just how big and thick he really was. Larry let her indulge her need; he watched her gorgeous face, her eyelashes sweeping down across her rosy cheeks, her wet lips parted as if she couldn't wait to get it in her mouth. But as soon as her fingers reached the sensitive head, he had to grasp her wrists and stop her.

"That's enough," Larry said.

"Oh," Cassie made a little pout of disappointment.

"Shh," Larry said, "Soon."

"You want to spend some time with Daddy alone, don't you? Just you and I? We'll have the whole place to ourselves. I'll make you so happy, Baby Girl."

Cassie sighed, playing along with this delicious game. "Will you show me what you like?"

"Everything, baby. Daddy has a lot of things he wants to show you and teach you."

Cassie looked up at him sweetly. "Can I show you . . . now?"

He knew what she meant. "Yes, Baby Doll. Show me."

Cassie slid back on her bed, pushing her breasts together, and spreading her legs. Larry's gaze latched onto her sweet, adorable little mound. He could see the outline of her lips, the deep cleft in between, the bump of her swollen clit.

"Show me, Princess."

Cassie smiled, and gazed at him, as her hand traveled down over her flat stomach and found her pussy. She spread a little wider, so he could see her slowly trace her swelling labia, and push into her wet hole through her thin panties.

Larry walked around the end of the bed, and his hand reached for his jeans. "Show me, Baby Doll, Daddy wants to watch you."

Cassie scooted quickly forward onto the bed, getting into her favorite position, with her face and shoulders pushed into the mattress and her ass and hips pushed high into the air. She wiggled a little, getting comfortable. As she reached backwards into her panties, seeking her aching, swollen clit, she heard Larry unzipping his jeans, and his groan as he found his cock.

Their role play was only the thinnest veil over the true heat and violence of their incestuous lust, but it was one they desperately needed. They had to have it, to deal with what was happening, and with each other.

But sometimes, like now, they did not hold back. Larry jerked his cock, sliding the clear pre-cum all over, getting slick and slippery, as he watched his daughter furiously work her clit back and forth for him. They gave in to their lust, Cassie knowing every second he was watching her. His gaze on her drove her wild, and her thighs trembled with the knowledge that he was taking in every single detail. Larry jerked his prick hard and fast and Cassie fucked her pussy with her fingers, wanting him to see, knowing what he was seeing was going to make him come. She began to gasp and moan, louder and faster, whispering "Daddy, Daddy" as she got closer and closer. They couldn't stop it.

They both suppressed their cries when they came, aware of other people in the house, both knowing that soon, very soon, they would be together in the way they needed. Larry watched his cock shoot out ropes of cum onto a towel on her bed, dizzy and light-headed with the force of his orgasm. Cassie moaned and cried out into her pillow as her thighs shook and trembled and her pussy exploded in wetness over her hand. She could not move, she was so stunned, her mind overwhelmed. She lay still, breathing heavily for several minutes, while Larry picked things up, and then felt his hand on her hair. He leaned over, kissing her, saying, "Shhh . . . go to sleep. I love you, baby. I'll see you soon, when I get back."

+++

For the next several days, Cassie had nothing to do but work at the store and get nervous for her appointment.

She spent a lot of time perusing magazines, wondering if this was completely insane, comparing herself to every girl she saw.

How hard could it be? Her ass was just as tight and perfect, her tits just as hot, her face just as pretty. Would it be fun, would she enjoy it?

The more she thought about it, the more she decided it was a good idea.

And plus . . . she flipped through her magazines, looking at all these gorgeous girls, lolling about, selling sex . . . yes, well she knew something about that. Admittedly, it was quite . . . unique . . . but . . . she knew what was hot alright. Wouldn't that make her the perfect model? And didn't she know how to get into a role?

She picked out a particularly hot chick from a catalogue, decked out in creamy, lacy lingerie, and stared at her incredible face, so pretty, so promising . . . but how different did she appear when Cassie thought of her having her own Daddy. She actually had to stifle a laugh. Now that was hot. Hmm . . . she twirled her hair, thinking she should not find that so appealing. But no one would know. . .

She gave in to her fantasies, pondering how these two strange turns her life had taken could actually work together in interesting, very interesting, ways . . .

But they were only dreams, and she really had no idea how difficult it was going to be.

+++

On Tuesday, Vicky bailed on her at the last minute, so Cassie took the train to Manhattan by herself. She'd been there once or twice with girlfriends, but never all alone, and she was slightly nervous. She had no idea what to expect.

She was wearing just what Freya said—a plain white t-shirt and jeans with ballet flats, with her hair loose and around her shoulders. Nothing amazing at all, but nevertheless she got looks and wolf whistles and catcalls and "Hey, Baby Doll!" yelled at her from the minute she got off the train.

She made her way to a luxury skyscraper in Midtown, where she saw in little gold letters "FM Modeling Agency, 35th Floor" on the directory by the door. By this time her stomach was in knots. Her hand was shaking badly when she handed the security guy her ID and signed in. It was on the very top floor, in the penthouse suite. She pushed the button wondering if it was all a hoax, and she was really going straight to her death at the hands of some serial killer. She realized she should have told her brothers, at least, but she consoled herself with the fact that Vicky knew where she was, and she at least could lead the police to her body.

The elevators opened onto a completely empty, gray corridor, unfinished, with cement flooring and shoddy-looking walls. Oh god, she thought, what have I gotten myself into?

But then she saw a little sign saying, "Excuse the remodeling," and an arrow pointing to "FM Modeling Agency."

She tried to open the gold handle on a set of heavy wooden doors, but they were locked. She had to push a buzzer. As soon as she did, the doors magically clicked open onto a waiting room, cheaply furnished. It looked like a dentist's office. There were old, well-thumbed copies of Vogue on a side table, but no reception desk, just another door. She was right on time, so all she could do was sit and wait.

After about 15 minutes of getting more and more anxious, a gorgeous blond opened the door. She was incredibly beautiful, with bright sparkling green eyes, perfect teeth, and long legs clad in 5 inch black stillettos.

"Hi, Cassie, follow me."

She took her into a small, brightly lit room that was obviously some kind of photo set-up, but more like the DMV than anything else. There was only a camera on a tripod facing a blank wall.

"Stand over there, please, with your toes at the yellow line."

She did as she said, feeling like she was in a police line-up.

"Ok now hold still and look right at me. Good."

She snapped about ten shots, before gesturing to the door.

"Ok, now if you'd kindly go wait in the front office, Freya will be with you soon."

Cassie had no clue what was going on, but the fear that she was going to be chopped up by a deranged killer was at least fading from her mind. She sat and waited, and waited, surfing on her phone. Finally, after an hour, she was summoned.

She was led to a very well-appointed suite, with rich carpets and expensive leather furniture. Beautifully framed photos of magazines covered the walls, all of girls she recognized.

Freya Malle was sitting behind a huge walnut desk. She had a black suit on and the same long, blood red nails.

"Cassandra," she purred. "Have a seat."

Cassie took up a place in front of her. Freya had a stack of photos in her hand, and she spread them out on her desk. They were all of her.

"Tell me, what do you see?" she said.

Was it a trick question?

"Um . . . me?"

She tapped her fingernails, gazing at her intently. "I've been looking at your pictures for an hour, Cassie. An hour. Do you know how often I do that? Never. Most girls who come in here, many just as gorgeous as you, get only five minutes before they are on their way out the door. You're very lucky to be sitting here right now. Very lucky."

"Ok . . ." Cassie said, doubtfully.

"Let me tell you why. The reason I take these photos is to see, right off the bat, if you can photograph. You'd be surprised at how many girls can't. Doesn't matter how gorgeous they are, it just doesn't translate. But not you."

She traced her finger on one of the pictures.

"You, my girl, have been blessed. You have natural beauty—unique, original—and you are photogenic. And you have that body. Do you know how rare that combination is?"

She just looked at her and shook her head. What did she know?

"But all of these things are completely out of your control. You've been blessed, and you've been lucky—so far—and that's it. And most of all, you're lucky to have met me. Do you know why?"

Again she shook her head.

She waved her hand around her office, at all the magazine covers, the famous models Cassie had instantly recognized.

"These are all mine. All my prodigies. Every single one of them has sat right where you are now. You could be one of them. That's what I've been contemplating for an hour. You could be huge, Cassandra."

She was like some kind of demented fairy godmother. Cassie couldn't tell if she was dreaming or not. But she couldn't help blurting out, "How?"

"Ah," she glanced at her. "Good question. Because it doesn't just 'happen' out of thin air! This—" she gestured all around her office. "All this needs to be created! Developed! That is what I know how to do. That is what I love to do."

"In order to be good—to be more than good, to be special, extraordinary, a girl you never, ever forget—you need three things. Do you know what those are, Cassandra?"

"I'll tell you. The first two are easy. First, you need marketing. Management. Publicity. That's me. That's my role. Second, you need artistry. You need to work with the best people—hair, make-up, and of course, the right photographer. That I can get you. I can get you access to all of that. But the third, that's the hardest part. And it's something I cannot help you with."

"What's that?" Cassie asked.

"It's you, Baby Doll. It's what you're capable of doing. Who you're capable of being and becoming, in front of the camera."

"What do you mean?"

She waved her hand again, as if it was too mysterious to explain.

"You can't just stand there like a block of wood! You can't be . . . just anyone. You have to project. Express yourself. BE yourself. It's not just exterior beauty. No, it's much more."

"I can't teach it to you. It has to come from you, and only you. The magic. The indefinable magic that makes you unforgettable."

She glanced down again at her photos.

"I see potential here, Cassandra, oh yes. But it's only potential. I see something in you, I don't know what. It's deep, and glimmering, like an opal . . . but dull. Asleep. It's going to take some work to see if you really have it."

"What do I have to do?" Cassie said.

Freya reached down into her desk and retrieved an envelope. She held it in her taloned hands, caressing it.

She murmured, "Before we go any further, I need to be clear about a few things."

"Yes?"

"If I take you on, if I make you one of MY girls, if I put myself out there for you, I do NOT want to be disappointed. I need to know that you want this, that you are willing to do whatever it takes, work as hard as you need to, do whatever I tell you to do. Are you willing to do this?"

Cassie stared into her cold, black eyes.

She saw that she was intelligent. Very, very intelligent. She had a brilliant mind and a cunning grasp of the business of modelling. She understood it like no one else. It was why she was who she was. Cassie got that. And she knew that she needed it. She would be a fool to say no.

But she didn't fool herself. As she looked into her eyes, she saw nothing but a void. This woman had no heart, and no soul. Cassie was a commodity to her—a diamond, a gem, she was going to polish up and sell like an exquisite toy. Cassie knew it, and she knew she was almost making a deal with the devil.

And then there was Larry, and the memory of the way he had looked at her, that first time. The love and caring in his eyes when he told her she was beautiful. She hung onto that, as she stared at Freya, knowing that she was keeping a part of herself—the most important part—in reserve, untouched by her, and nodded and said, "Ok."

Freya smiled at her—a creepy, almost malicious little smile—and said, "Good. Then let's get started."

She handed her the envelope, and said, "Inside there you will find a schedule and some instructions and directions. For the next two weeks or so, you will be visiting photographers and getting your picture taken. A lot. I have set you up with some of the top names in the business. And Cassandra—" she eyed her with her inky black stare. "This isn't just to get some good photos. I want to see how professional you can be. You are to show up, ON TIME. You show up. I don't care if we have another Hurricane Sandy. You show up where you're supposed to be, ready and able to work. Are we clear?"