Congregation Domination Pt. 02

Fuming, Samantha huffed impatiently.

"Daddy!" His hesitance was making her more and more uncomfortable. Something he didn't want. He wanted her to enjoy it.

"Well now. My, my, my." Came the cool, calm tone that uncharacteristically flashed across his smiling confidence.

"Whatcha doin' beautiful?" His slow deliberateness in how he spoke took Samantha by surprise. He wasn't stuttering. He always stuttered. Always. Even when they were alone together. Carefully, he removed his hand from inside his zipper and closed it back up, smiling at Samantha.

"I'm tryin' to get ready to go out with my friends, Daddy, if you don't mind!" Indignation and irritation huffed aggressively out as she nudged past him to get to her shoes that lay ready on the closed toilet seat. Even that brief contact made John nigh on ravenous. The feeling of his daughters weight pushing against him and her body in skin tight clothes made it so easy to feel what it would be like to have her on him. He feigned an apologetic grin and moved off to the side, and then settled behind her to lean against the sink as she lifted a shoed foot onto the toilet seat to tie it.

"Sounds like fun. It is a good day, thank the Lord." The response was cool and deliberate.

Her long, curled, blonde hair was still slightly wet, and not brushed, so it was rather disheveled. Her daddy found its disorder to be mighty alluring. It was almost innuendo, the suggestive indication of the nature of this sexually attractive, young woman. It lent her a look of eroticism. A truly lustful aesthetic. It was a look that the Mayor very much enjoyed seeing.

Her tight body was shapely, toned and firm, with her long legs and amazingly formed breasts. This kind of private proximity was like an erotic feast for Johns lustful desires. She had always been beautiful. Now that Samantha was growing into a young woman, and was hitting the delightful age of nineteen, it was obvious that she had been becoming more and more aware of her sexuality. Her prerogative as a fledgling woman to be as privately sexual as she liked, was emanating from her these days, and it was evident in how she dared to dress. How she dared to expose her body, in all kinds of subtle, but definitely noticeable, ways.

Tying that shoelace, her skirt had pulled up her hips and John sat back, cocking his head sideways, openly staring at the unassuming Samantha and her gorgeous behind. He could see the lacy panties pulled tightly up her crack, the flat void from where her little ass hole pointed proudly at him under the barely concealing panties, and certainly, the back of her plump, little vulva. He could barely see, but the same he could see, the clean, smooth, and faintly, darker pale, tight wrinkles that circled her hidden anus. Still, when she inadvertently moved this way and that, he caught glimpses of that pretty, puckered hole.

What delighted him was how her panties had a habit of sinking between her hairy pussy lips, like a thong. The small opening to her pleasing depths started barely more than half an inch from her pretty anus, and was framed by the softness of the back of her curling labia minora. The larger lips were once again on full display and so was one of her more delicate and almost frilly smaller lips. Her pretty pussy was within arms reach, and John had but to touch her. He didn't, however. He was too comfortable in his habit of simply looking. It was safe. Although he felt rather daring, and couldn't ignore his urges.

What delighted Sammys loving daddy even more was when she stepped into the other shoe and pressed her foot in with her weight. Her skirt stayed up and gave him the best view of her bare cheeks he had ever seen. So tight. So firm. So perfectly shaped. They weren't round. They weren't flat. It was like an upside down heart. She got it from her mother. The view lasted a flashing second.

"Those are some mighty fine shoes chicken." John commented nonchalantly as, in a burst of blind courage, he pushed himself closer to her, now that she was bent over again and tying that shoe with her foot on the toilet seat. She felt him crowding her backside, and resting his hand on one of her sumptuous, soft, exposed cheeks. She also felt him press his hips against her ass crack, and a rigid protrusion pushing at her vulva. He was simply getting a closer look. He was too close.

"Sure Daddy, that's what you like the look of." She allowed herself a small, yet mocking, smile and her voice betrayed an underlying, corrosive temperament. Something else, she had inherited from her mother. The smooth displeasure in her voice at being fondled radiated through Johns arousal and he only wanted her more.

"Whatever do you mean, sweet pea?" He asked, the cool voice was saturated with exaggerated innocence.

"Well hows about you tell me why you have been oggling my body for years," She straightened and wiggled her hips, pulling down her skirt again, farther down than it could go to cover her cheeks.

"Daddy." She added with extra venom, as if to tell him that she knew about his perving, and that it was disgusting that he was after his own daughter. He grinned as the skirt so easily snapped back up, and accidentally went farther up her ass than she wanted. Still, the confidence with which she held her body told him that she wasn't bothered with showing it off. She knew he looked at her. She had noticed it years ago. When she first started to develop into a woman. She did, however, make a point of readjusting her heavy breasts which had dropped out of her tube top when she was leaning over.

What a beautiful process her growth had been for John. Her daddy. Seeing how she flourished over the years, like a rose. No angel sent by the Lord himself could ever had given him more satisfaction than his beautiful daughter has. Not even his own wife. Funnily enough, he had perved on Ami years ago too, before finally getting her. Such was the way of horny, invisible dorks. Him at least.

"Have you been doing alright honey? You ain't seemed right since church today." John sat back against the sink and watched her flinch at the sudden, unwanted memory. He decided to think nothing of it and press no further. Samantha, however, felt like the current situation was becoming quickly similar to that of the church. Granted she shouldn't have been masturbating, but what her mother had made her do was worse. She shuddered and finally glared at her father. Both her parents were after her now.

"You gonna let me finish getting ready or what?" He said nothing, but again, watched as Samantha glared a moment longer, and scoffed, deciding that she wasn't in the mood for games and circled the room. Waiting for him to get out. Eventually she moved on the sink and shoved him out of the way. She had make up to put on.

"Darling, don't you worry about me now. I don't mean nothing bad." Still, there was no stuttering. There were predatory lies. As annoying and uncomfortable as it was to hear her daddy stutter and strain his words, it was what made him who he was in her eyes. Her daddy. She loved him, stuttering and all. This was just creepy, how he could suddenly speak normally and was making obvious moves on her. Her angry eyes fixed on her reflection. She went about putting on some mascara, with the same hand she had masturbated with. Her fingers were still clammy. She ignored her father's hungry eyes looking her over.

"Believe me, Daddy, I couldn't give a rat's ass just as long as you keep yourself to yourself and not come nearing on me." The benefit of maturity. He enjoyed hearing the thread of sarcasm in her voice. Not that she tried to hide it under the evident, firm warning. His eyes dropped on her body, almost afraid to make eye contact with her. He loved how her bare, exposed shoulders suddenly became soft, cotton sleeved arms, and how her chest pushed together as she leaned toward the mirror.

"So, uh, Sammy. You should take those clothes off." Direct. Sharp. Sudden. She knew he was looking at her, probably intending some perverted advances, but never expected him to carry through. She stopped and looked at him sharply.

"Now don't you -" She was suddenly spoken over and her surprise turned to hot anger.

"I mean, do you really want to be going out in public dressed like that? In those clothes? You look like a provocative, filthy, little slut." He grinned down at her, faking his fatherly responsibility to keep her safe. She simply stared in hot disbelief. She was too stunned by his words and the fact that his hand was tracing circles around her bare thigh to be hurt.

"What would your mother say?" He added and moved on to touch her bare shoulders, around to her upper back and then down over her shoulder, to her front by her heaving chest.

"Now let me help you out of these and... give you something new" He began pulling gently at the open edge of her tube top and caught sight of the bumpy, tightening nipple that he had managed to fully expose. His thumb grazed the solid and protruding bud for a fraction of a second, as he made contact with her wide and shocked eyes. It was enough of a grope to send a warm shock of electricity through Sammys breast.

Snatching her phone in her hand, she suddenly launched at her father, shoving him into the wall and she stepped back, pointing at him with rage. He grunted in sudden pain.

"Now don't you dare think about doing that again, Daddy!" She hollered in self defense.

"What in Gods name?!" John exclaimed, stunned by the sudden attack. Sammy tried to rush for the door but the flustered, yet somehow powerful, pathetic man was in front of her, blocking the door and her only escape route. She thumped his chest hard and buckled him.

"And, Daddy, I dress how I wanna dress! I'm nearly nineteen, I've been putting up with this shit for years now! I don't care about what Maws gonna say! She can go fuc-" Suddenly the shaking tirade of explosive emotion was interrupted by the sound of slamming doors and stomping, frantic foot steps, harmonised with breathless whimpering, charging up the stairs. Both of them turned to see what in the name of the Lord was all the ruckus.

...

"Dominic?" Ami asked, holding her phone to her ear, instantly falling into her submissive persona and lowering her voice and eyes. Her shoulders shrugged forward and her pussy burned for her master. What he could do to her. She had been about to masturbate again outside in the garden, when the phone had rang. Ami answered and flinched, hearing his blank voice say her name. She was lost, having found that though there was love from her husband, there was no attraction. She needed to be touched. Fucked. Good. John wasn't giving her that. Only Dominic was. As horrible and violent, and obviously screwed up in the head that Dominic was, he had what she needed. He could provide the submission she needed.

She had gotten up from her pool side seat in the back garden and walked a few paces toward the house. She blocked her free ear with a finger so she could focus solely on Dominics voice.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Came the commanding and angry voice from Ami's phone which shook in her trembling hands. Oh God. Had she been caught being filthy and thinking about her daughter? By her Master?

"What? -" Ami was trying to answer, but simply couldn't, and the deep, interrupting voice made her shrink even deeper into herself. She felt like heaven had spilled out from her vulva, it was as if hell was burning down there, and she found herself clinging to the terrifying voice for fear of losing the arousal. Her hand made contact with her hairy pussy, finally, and she whimpered.

"Bedroom. Now!" The barking clarity of the order made Ami flinch. Without wasting any time, Ami turned to follow her Doms order.

Without even giving thought to the fact that she was shuffling at pace through the garden, naked from the hips down with her skirt hiked up and her hand jammed between her legs, out in the open where anyone could see her, Ami made for the closed patio doors which led into the house. She was all too frightened by the notion that Dominic might have possibly know what she imagine with Samantha. She was terrified, in fact, by what she wanted to do to her daughter. However, Ami was more afraid to think that Dominic might be in her bedroom, waiting for her. Somehow.

"Just a minute, Sir." Ami whispered into her phone as she pulled open the sliding door and flung herself in.

"Faster!" Dominic shouted into her ear as if he was standing beside her. The aggression in his voice made her flinch and look to the side for a hint of her master's presence, as Ami rushed quickly into the hallway and slammed the kitchen door. She whimpered and wheeled around the banister to run up the stairs.

"Touch your clit and don't stop." Barked her Master and instantly Ami dropped her hand again to her skirt. Dear Lord she could be anywhere, with anybody, and she felt as if he would make her do this. The danger was suddenly so real. He didn't even need to be beside her. She stroked at her bare clitoris under her hiked up skirt as she flew up the stairs. She bit her lip as she hurried and got up to the landing, terrified.

Passing both her chillingly pathetic husband in the upstairs landing, and the very object of her desire, an instantly confused and fuming Samantha, standing in the doorway of the upstairs toilet, Ami concealed her frantic, clit fondling hand by turning her body. She had no idea of what kind of altercation Sammy had just had with her father. Amis heart pounded as she went to her bedroom door and slammed into it, expecting it to open.

The masturbating Sub let out a yelp and quickly grabbed for the handle of the door with a shaking hand. Flinging the door to the side, Ami quickly shot her hand back down to her clitoris, scared of stopping when her master ordered her not to stop. She gasped urgently with need at the sudden contact of her fingers and her sopping pussy. As she carefully edged into the bedroom, she darted her head from side to side, hoping beyond hope, not to see her Dom. Yet somehow she wanted him to ambush her, throw her tight body onto the bed and fuck the life out of her. Both her little holes wrecked again like earlier that day outside the church. The place she had devoted her life to for so many years. She made new devotions earlier that day, devotions with her holes. To her master.

Out in the hallway, Sammy cast a brazen and venomous look in her mothers direction when she vanished urgently into her bedroom. She scoffed, rolled her eyes and met the mutual confusion in her suddenly distracted fathers eyes as he slowly tried to hold her by the small of her back and drop his hand to grope her tight behind. He was obviously hoping that she was flapping in the depths of confusion to notice. His fingertips got under the soft and firm flesh of the bottom of her crack. They touched the squidgy back of her panty clad pussy, and her frilly, little labia minora beside the tightly pulled panties. In fact, he nearly got them inside her, and she nearly allowed it. The hesitation wasn't confusion, it was pleasure. Wet pleasure. He had finally done it. After years. A victory. He could fuck her against the door frame right then and there. He could slam her against it, and finger her pussy until she submitted. She let out a groan and arched her back, but pulled away just as he pushed into her.

"Daddy, I am going out, that's enough, please." Sammy swatted the advance away and sent an elbow back into her father's ribcage when she realised that she was being groped, and moved off down the stairs from him. As she went, he grunted in pain and reeled back before he could grab her. So instead, in the shroud of his dark safety, he watched that pretty ass and how her cheeks were just barely covered by the skirt she had put on. Moreover, he moved his head to the side to try get a glimpse of that tight pair of panties that he had secretly watched her put on. A grin of perverted satisfaction came over him when he didn't see the lacy fabric, and assumed that it was bunched tightly between her perfect cheeks. He knew the panties were there though. He had to move his fingers around them. He sighed and took in how good her smooth and shapely, toned legs looked from her exposed cheeks to the scruff of her mid shin high white gym socks. The peevish glare eyed Sammys simple, white and black, flat bottomed vans that looked a bit too big, but fit perfectly on her small feet.

"You know, Sammy," again, John didn't stutter, like he normally would do, as he called after her. She turned to look up to him with impatient tolerance and inadvertently flashed him a perfect view down her busty, braless, yet tightly squished cleavage. He grinned at how those top two buttons was enough to nearly allow her perfect breasts to spill out. Especially when she took another couple of steps down when she saw him at the top of the stairs and her tits bounced as nature intended. Two buttons out of four, of her long sleeved, buttoned, flannel tube top, that were opened to reveal most of the firm cleavage of both her large breasts. He could see that she wasn't wearing a bra, what with how her tits pressed together and the way he could glimpse the bottom curves of her cleavage, and how her perfectly supple nipples poked out against the tight, fitting fabric. If that wasn't enough, he could faintly see the soft skin of her slightly darker pale areolas peeking over the low plunging neck line, almost sticking out. The way that tube top revealed her midsection from just below her breasts, and the view of her perfect belly button just above the top button of her skirt, was enough to make her daddy quake.

"What?" She was in no mood for it.

"I really want you to take those clothes off." Sammy then shot him a dubious look as she scoffed again and lifted an eyebrow, not afraid to show her attitude.

"Unbelievable." She shook her head. She could see the dark and perverted meaning behind her fathers seemingly dutiful reprimand at how she chose to dress.

"This whole fucking house... this whole dang town, wants to fuck me." She muttered to herself and continued until she was out of sight. The fact that her usually straining father didn't stammer once through their entire conversation crossed her mind but she didn't call him on it. She just wanted out.

John simply grinned and watched her turn into the downstairs hallway, away from the kitchen. When he heard the front door slam behind his delicious daughter, he chuckled a sly laugh and rubbed his ribs after feeling the sharp stab of pain again.

"Love you sweetheart." He called out to thin air, then sighed and resumed his normally weak demeanor. He slouched and shuffled with small steps toward the bathroom door. Inside, he found Sammys dirty panties from earlier, and her sun dress that Ami hated so much because it revealed so much. John sniffed the panties and inhaled the warmth. The intense, seedy aroma of her arousal and sweat. He chuckled and wrapped the panties around his exposed erection. Small as it was. He jerked his little dicky as he sidled out of the bathroom and shuffled weakly into the narrow, dark corridor. Within moments, he came hard and breathlessly into his daughters panties and wiped himself clean with them. He had done this many a time. He knew her smell. He regained his composure and staggered to his bedroom door to see what the heck was wrong with his wife.

Inside, with the room seemingly clear, Ami had pushed the door closed with her hip and locked the door. Instantly she unzipped and dropped her skirt to her ankles, and stepped clean out of it. Sitting half naked on the bed, with her dark bush proud between her thighs, she lay back and opened her legs wide. She rested her bare feet on the windowsill at the end of the bed, as she began fervently jilling herself off, alone and doing it finally, for the first time in twenty years. However, she wasn't alone. Her gasping yelps of pleasure filled the silence between her ear and the phone.