How to Train Your Daughter Ch. 13a

Thank you to all my readers for your continued inspiration and enthusiasm. I hope you like this one.

All characters are over the age of 18. This chapter, like most of this series, features graphic scenes of men having sex with their own daughters, so if that's not something you'd like (which I understand), just be warned. There are also scenes of reluctance and authoritarianism/domination.

I love to hear from my readers. Write me anytime, and remember to include your email address in the PM if you want a reply.

Enjoy,

Robert

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I awoke a bit earlier than usual on Thursday morning, and since I couldn't get back to sleep, I kissed my beautiful slumbering wife, Morgan Lynn, eased out from under the covers, pulled on my comfortable grey sweatpants and a favorite, well-worn Nirvana t-shirt, and crept downstairs to start my day in a leisurely fashion.

Making my way softly down the hall on the way to the kitchen so as not to awaken the twins, Serena and Selena; and passing my daughter Jennifer's door off of the landing as I descended the staircase, I realized I needed to call my handyman to come back and improve the sound-proofing of her room.

We had celebrated Jennifer's Festival a few weeks ago. After years of careful preparation and agonizing waiting, her virginity had been ceremonially taken, along with that of the other local girls in her cohort, on stage in front of a packed and appreciative house at the ornate old Paramount Theatre downtown, and broadcast on live television. She had won first place, which was a great honor, and had been released with the other debutantes to the public as a fresh, new, sexually available girl.

She was now a trainee, which meant that until she was married she was for all intents and purposes considered community property.

All eligible men—having at least one daughter of their own who'd successfully completed her Festival—now shared both the considerable responsibility of teaching her everything they could about every aspect of her new sexual duties, at nearly any time or place the urge or need struck them; and in return enjoyed the right to use her for whatever sexual pleasure they might imagine, since in the final analysis this was the only proper and fundamental purpose of all beautiful young female bodies.

Jennifer was gorgeous, accomplished, intelligent, and a willing trainee, and she had won top marks in the Festival judging for the perfection of her vagina, among other accolades, and her training schedule had been brisk since her big day; it seemed as if every eligible man in town, feeling the weight of both their educational responsibilities and of their testicles, had rushed to reserve her and to enjoy her exquisite beauty as they taught her their most vigorous, penetrating lessons.

As I tiptoed past her door now in the dawn light, even the good work my usually trusty handyman had already done in preparation for her new life was insufficient to fully mute what sounded like a particularly vigorous and probing early morning training session she was receiving from some enthusiastic male; and the muffled thumps and squeaks of her white, canopied princess bed, and her labored, plaintive cries as she absorbed what were evidently powerfully moving and deeply stimulating lessons from her trainer—whose heavy breathing and curt, guttural instructions to spread her legs wider and give herself to him hinted at the great effort and focus he was bringing to his teaching duties—still made their way, much intact, through her bedroom door.

I shook my head with a little smile and continued to the kitchen, making a note to call my guy later and have him reinforce his previous work; it would probably be best for him to live-test it on her when he was finished this time, to make sure the rest of the household wasn't unnecessarily disrupted by the sounds of our eldest daughter's frequent and often noisy education.

In the kitchen I made some coffee, and took to the big sectional in the living room to comfortably peruse the latest issue of American Girl Trainer Monthly, which had arrived yesterday along with one of my other favorite periodicals, Modern Girl Handling.

As I took my seat in the early sunbeams pouring through the window, I heard the sound of the private trainer's door to Jennifer's bedroom, which opened directly to the side walkway of the house; and a minute later the diesel engine of a big pickup truck rumbled to life as it drove away at the same time as the hiss of the shower filtered from the bathroom across the hall.

American Girl Trainer Monthly was a respected magazine known for its insightful analysis, interviews with top-level girl handlers, and rigorous, effective instructional features on all aspects of teaching and training eligible girls, and I dug into this month's features on the 5 Tips for Helping Shy Girls Feel Sexy Once They're Naked; a pictorial entitled Louisiana Spotlight: Southern Charmers' Southern Charms, profusely illustrated in its efforts to demonstrate the uniquely lush pleasures of well-bred New Orleans girls' pedigreed vaginas (widely considered to be paragons of the form); and Not Our First Rodeo—But Maybe Hers, a think piece on the new and fast-growing sport of competitive girl handling.

Originating in the bars and backlots of more rural areas of the country, then exploding in popularity as a result of a hit show on a scrappy underdog cable network, competitive girl handling comprised a varied and rapidly expanding collection of timed contests.

Typically variations on a theme, the competitions saw trainers, assigned a girl by random drawing, racing the clock to stimulate her successfully to the greatest number and highest intensity of orgasms their skills could elicit in front of an enthusiastic audience.

Points were given for the creativity and craftsmanship a handler showed in his work; the rapidity with which a girl achieved her first climax; and the emotional and physical spectacularity of her orgasms at the trainer's hand, along with their duration.

The classes of competition were ever-expanding as well, and included various age categories for both handler and girl, different combinations of numbers of handlers and girls (one of the most popular new classes, favored for its inherent drama and the sheer volume of stimulation to which it subjected the girl, was 3M1G); bound and pain-based competitions (typically using girls found guilty of severe misbehavior, as a sentence of punishment and as an opportunity for them to signify their contrition and willingness to reform); and variations in the type and amount of equipment available to the handler, from minimalist, purist-oriented contests in which only his hands and penis were allowed to be used on the girl, to a range of competitions spanning the spectrum of paddles, vibrators, dildoes, and machines.

An essential attraction of the sport was that the

girls were understood to be experiencing authentic, pleasurable climaxes, which could only be achieved by a highly skilled combination of rapport-building with a random, unfamiliar young girl under immense time and pressure constraints, requiring the possession of an almost preternatural sense for how and where to touch and caress her in the most pleasurable and disarming manner possible, as well as a solid understanding of young female anatomy and psychology.

Eliciting an intense, aesthetically pleasing orgasm in a girl was considered a craft, and the final result was a work of art as a successful round ended in a shuddering, moaning creature making a delicious mess all over the competition table as her handler fucked her into incoherence and orgasmic bliss before the applauding crowd.

Girls were generally supplied for competitions by local magistrates, who would often commute light sentences in exchange for the miscreant's participation; beautiful and naturally orgasmic girls could become minor celebrities on the competition circuit, however, and the excitement and adventure had begun to attract some regular, otherwise well-behaved girls to submit themselves for the purpose, and to spend a few months as the objects of masterly attention at the hands of top-level handlers.

There was still a vigorous debate concerning the ethics of the sport; a vocal and growing fringe movement was calling for society to progress beyond the Festival process as it now existed, and for all girls to undergo a mandatory period of sexual indentureship during which they would truly be considered property, and could be traded and sold among eligible men, and kept in private stables and collected, trained, and shared at will by the handlers that owned them for the first three years after their Festival.

While the idea had been slow to gain wide support, the rise in popularity of competitive girl handling was felt by some to be greasing the rails of acceptance for the vision, as it normalized the imagery of captive young girls being groomed, trained, and used for sexual pleasure in a manner more reminiscent of domestic livestock than was typical in our current day-to-day lives.

I sipped my coffee and turned the page to one of my favorite features, Cumming Attractions. A fixture from the conception of American Girl Training Monthly, it had become the flagship of the magazine, inspiring countless imitators but no rivals.

Each month, hundreds of girls who were within a year or two of celebrating their Festivals sent the magazine their photos and applied to be a Cumming Attractions Girl, and the editors selected a few, traveling to their homes for short interviews, and getting to know them and sharing their personalities with their readership.

A tasteful nude photo spread was included, typically just shot in the girl's bedroom or elsewhere in her parents' house, and the editors contributed their commentary and observations concerning the girls' desirability as they approached their big day, and noted each girl's most attractive features, giving their readers a sneak peek at what they'd be getting their own hands on shortly.

My cock was soon hard, my testicles filled with a solid night's batch of fresh cum, and I absently reached my hand into my sweatpants and slowly, pleasantly stroked my morning wood as I read, basking in the full sensation of my swollen penis as it responded to the lovely, innocent naked girls on the pages, and I imagined using it to probe their perfect girl bits and deposit my semen inside them.

Suddenly I heard a noise and, looking up, saw Jennifer in the living room doorway, a cup of coffee in her hand.

She was breathtakingly beautiful in her early-morning, freshly-fucked splendor, her long, glossy brunette waves still damp from her shower.

The mornings were beginning to get cooler, and she'd twisted her hair in a single heavy tress that tumbled down her shoulder and over her soft, cozy grey hoodie emblazoned with the purple letters of the state university she'd be attending in a few weeks, which draped lovingly over her small frame and her tidy, perky breasts, her freshly-showered nipples making their presence known as they pushed insistently against the light fabric.

She was bare-legged except for a pair of thickly-knit gray leg warmers, and her hoodie was just long enough that I couldn't tell for sure whether she was wearing panties.

'Good morning, daddy,' she said with a sleepy little smile. 'I couldn't get back to sleep—I didn't know you were already up.'

'Hi, sweetheart,' I answered, pulling my hand from my cock and patting the couch cushion next to me. ''Want to join me?'

She nodded eagerly, her tawny dancer's legs sashaying toward me—a bit gingerly, I thought—and as she swung her perfect backside around to sit next to me on the big couch, I noticed that while her hoodie was too short to fully cover her round, soft booty cheeks, it was yet long enough that I still couldn't tell for sure if she was wearing undies.

I pulled her close, enjoying the feeling of her petite, warm body against mine.

'You doing good, sweetheart?' I asked.

'Yes, daddy,' she replied with a contented sigh. 'He trained me...kind of rough...I think he really needed it. He said I did a pretty good job, though, and he's going to give me another lesson tomorrow morning.'

'You're such a good girl, Jennifer,' I said, kissing the top of her head. 'I'm so proud of how hard you work in your lessons. You're becoming so generous with your body; the way you always share yourself so fully with your handlers, and try so hard to make training you an enjoyable experience for them is really impressive and beautiful, especially for how new you are. I'm sure he gave you some valuable feedback; take it to heart, and I know you'll do better for him in the morning.'

As she nodded her head against my chest and cuddled close under my arm with her coffee, and we browsed my magazine together, I was filled with a bit of warm nostalgia, and I felt she was too.

This had been a special little pastime we'd used to share, and it had been a while since we'd been able to do it; Jennifer would check the mail religiously and come dancing into my office in delight with the new issue, and we'd read it together and discuss the articles and pictures—most of all her favorite, Cumming Attractions.

It was normal for a girl's relationship with her father to change after her Festival; Jennifer had been kept busy with her rigorous training schedule, and I'd been enjoying my own new responsibilities, and had less time to spend with her due to the many young girls I now had access to; and it was only natural that we'd be spending less of this special time together.

Now it was like old times again as she nestled in the crook of my arm to share my magazine and talk about the pictures and articles. Her hand discreetly came to rest on my cock, which was naturally still erect from my reading and from her own beautiful, barely covered body, and she gently squeezed my shaft through my gray sweatpants as my hand played with her breast where it snuggled, warm and soft, beneath her hoodie, while we perused pages.

'Oh, she's really pretty daddy,' she said as I turned to the first girl's interview, which opened with a picture of an adorable smiling young thing standing naked in her bedroom next to her proud father, who draped his arm lovingly over her shoulders.

'Yes, she is,' I agreed, pointing to the next picture of the girl on her hands and knees on her bed, her backside to the camera, her delicious butt perfectly displaying her untouched vagina, 'She'd be a lot of fun to do from behind—such a nice little bottom on her. I'd love to hold her cheeks tight in my hands and press into her as hard and deep as I could.'

'She's got a really pretty mouth, too,' Jennifer added. 'That means she's probably going to be good at sucking on penises, right daddy?'

I nodded and smiled, complimenting my daughter on how good she was getting at understanding the important aspects of the female body that pleased men, and my fingertips softly traced the little bump her nipple made beneath the soft fabric of her hoodie.

'Yes, sweetheart, she has very pretty lips—they'd look amazing wrapped around my penis. She has really big, pretty eyes, too,' I noted. 'When I imagine her taking my cock in her mouth, and then looking up at me with those big eyes...wow...'

'Are my eyes like that, daddy?' Jennifer asked, batting her lashes coyly at me and making my heart skip a beat in spite of myself.

My daughter was always intensely beautiful and alluring; I could feel my body longing for hers despite the fact that I was her father, and I was sure she felt my cock lunge of its own accord in her hand as she ambushed me into remembering her perfect mouth full of my own hard penis the night of her Festival, her eyes shining with excitement and pride as she practiced serving a man with her mouth for the first time.

'Yes, Jennifer, just like you,' I chuckled as I tried to recover my composure, gazing into her deep, trusting eyes, 'I've seen what happens to your trainers when you look at them like that while you're sucking on their penises—you have an powerful effect on men, Jennifer. You've become a very, very desirable girl.'

A warm silence fell between us and pulled us closer; Jennifer's whispered, 'Thank you, daddy,' came as she seemed to be reaching up for a kiss, her hand caressing the head of my cock through my sweatpants. I wanted her so badly, but I couldn't—surely I couldn't—fuck my own daughter? What was she trying to do?

I cleared my throat and redirected our attention to the magazine, picking up where we'd left off.

'...So, um, yeah, I think she's definitely going to be fun to train when she celebrates her Festival. And she says here that she's excited to learn to give oral sex, so you're right, she probably will be quite good at it.'

We made our way slowly through the article, discussing the various naked girls and their charms; we were surprised and happy to see that little Beth Armstrong, one of the twins' friends from church, was one of the featured girls.

I had not seen her nude until now, and I made a mental note to congratulate her and her father when we saw them on Sunday; she was quite a cutie with her newly curvy little frame, her long, strawberry-blonde curls, and her big glasses that perched adorably on her pert nose, and I wondered if Walter would allow me a private, in-person sneak peek at her beautiful body sometime. Regardless, I looked even more forward now for her to celebrate her Festival, so I could enjoy her.

As we turned to the last girl's feature, Jennifer exclaimed excitedly and squeezed my cock, causing a dark spot to form at the head as my copious precum began to soak through my sweatpants.

'Daddy, her cunny looks like mine, doesn't it?'

'It does, honey,' I chuckled, returning her excitement and affection with a gentle grope of her breast, her erect nipple nuzzling my palm.

Like my daughter, the girl had a sculpted, well-defined vulva, with perfectly proportioned outer labia enfolding a delicate but prominent clitoral hood.

'You like cunnies that look like that, don't you daddy?'

'I do, sweetheart,' I laughed. 'I have always been partial to that style of vagina. Your mom has one like that, which is of course where you got yours from.'

'Do they feel real good to be inside, daddy?'

I nodded.

'They do, sweetheart; though to be honest, I like most girls' vaginas, and they pretty much all feel good when I'm using them. But I certainly do think that this style is one of my favorites.'

Jennifer was playfully squeezing my penis as she looked up at me.

'So...do you...do you like my...vagina, daddy?'

I rushed to assure her I did; young girls were sometimes insecure about their genitals, and I wanted my daughters to have no doubts about the desirability of their bodies.

'I certainly do, sweetheart,' I said, 'your vagina is truly one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. It's been such a pleasure to watch it grow and develop, and it's turned out so lovely and attractive—and every man that I've seen enjoy your body has loved it, too.'

She smiled with relief and pleasure as I told her how much I loved her pussy, and then suddenly grew pensive.

'Daddy, can we have a heart-to-heart talk?'

I laid the magazine down immediately; my daughters had always known they could call for a special talk with me anytime they had a something important on their mind, and we could discuss it freely.

'Of course, sweetheart, anything.'

'Daddy, I miss...I miss us...I miss this...

'What do you mean, honey?'

'Well, like, remember how I used to always show you the new movements I learned in ballet? Or how we worked on my senior science project together?'

I nodded, my brow furrowed, wondering where this was all going.