My Strict Daddy

This wasn't going to take long. Michael reached for her hand, so small, so soft, so perfect on his raging hard-on. Holding her palm there as he moved it up and down on his pulsing erection was natural. His daughter stroked him off and it was the perfect way to show her how he'd longed for her. Her breasts were perfectly round and it was far too easy to picture holding each of them and exploring every bit of her with his mouth. His daughter, his own flesh and blood, the sexiest fucking woman he'd ever seen. He said it one more time as the need ran through him like an electric current, every nerve pulsed with want. "Daddy loves you," her hand was making him melt and he was about to burst. His balls were overflowing and drawn up tight. His thighs shook, his hand pumped furiously and he made a sound like a hungry wolf as he let go. Torrents of his creamy cum coated Madison's tiny hand and forearm. She dripped with his milk. There was even more on her luscious breasts and her neck. Michael had even shot some of his load on his daughter's face and rivulets of his semen ran down her skin.

He came to in a panic.

The dream came crashing down around him and Michael bolted out of bed, panting as if he'd just run a few miles. Jesus, fuck, what was happening? He was lightheaded and sat back down on the mattress, shaking from the exertion. He groaned, disgusted with himself. He'd just had a sex dream about his own daughter. Fuck, it was hot too. He never had dreams anymore, especially not good ones. His hand wandered down the front of his body and noticed that he was damp with sweat. When he got to his crotch, it was much more than damp.

He had cum in his sleep. He'd had a wet dream, something reminiscent of crazy adolescent hormones and the girl who brought that out in him was just a few steps down the hall. Michael groaned with his need and then told himself to snap out of it.

After that, he'd been afraid to let himself go back to sleep and it had been almost six when he couldn't fight it anymore. He curled up in the puddle, not unlike the puddle that he'd sleep in if Madison had been in his bed. A puddle of her deliciousness mixed with her father's cum, the two of them sated and glowing, sticky and kissing. He fell asleep holding the pillow like he used to hold her when she'd had a bad dream.

***

He hadn't been asleep long, just enough to be even more groggy than when he'd drifted off. Michael put the readers on that he never wore outside of the privacy of the bedroom and glanced at the alarm clock. It was close to eight and he hardly ever stayed in bed this late. Michael got out of bed and put on the thick, blue cotton robe that he usually wore downstairs, then thought better of it. There was a girl in the house. Well, technically a woman but she'd always be his little girl, no matter how many wet dreams she gave him. Better to have boxers on as well, just in case.

He paused outside the guest bedroom and knocked, "Madison? Honey, are you awake?"

There was no answer and Michael wondered what the protocol was. The last time he'd had a little girl sleeping in the house, her room was his domain. He walked in any time he wanted but now, given her adult status and her very adult body, it seemed like she should be given her privacy. But what if, the starving beast inside his brain asked, what if she slept naked like her father did? Perhaps the sheet would have been partially kicked off and a calf and a thigh, bare and soft, would be exposed. There were white sheets on the bed, the perfect backdrop for all of that creamy skin and the black hair and her red lips ready for a good morning kiss. He didn't trust himself to kiss her properly.

He was already rock hard in the front of the robe. Michael opened the door, "Madison, are you up yet?"

No one was there. The bed was made.

"Shit," he muttered. It was surprising how fast the overly protective fatherly instincts came back. His heart pounded as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Had she left of her own accord? Had something happened? Goddammit, as soon as he let himself doze off, all hell broke loose. He'd fucking kill whoever let her walk out of here on her own.

Tommy was at the bottom of the steps and Michael barked at him, "Where's the girl that was here?"

Tommy winked and nodded, adjusting himself to indicate that Madison gave him a boner. Yes, of course, he'd have to get used to those kinds of gestures in appreciation of his daughter. Fuck, he was going to hate that. "The hot one? Yeah, she's in the kitchen."

Down the second flight of stairs and around the corner, there was Madison at the breakfast bar. Michael watched her as she spoke to Maria, the housekeeper, in rapid fire Spanish. The girl and the maid both laughed and Michael couldn't help but smile as he watched her throw her head back. Madison had the same belly laugh that he remembered, except her name was Rosemary then.

The sight of her in just the tee-shirt would take some getting used to. Her milky white thighs should be explored slowly with his fingertips. He wanted so badly to feel her shiver under his gentle caress. His daughter noticed him and smiled, "Good morning, Michael."

Madison had a cup of coffee and blew on it before taking a sip. "Good morning," he replied and reached overhead to get his own cup. He asked, "how did you sleep?"

She shrugged, "Okay, I guess. You know, it's different."

"Sure," he understood, it certainly was different, his dreams could attest to that. Michael took a seat next to her and told himself not to look down at her legs. Madison was radiant like this. With the sunlight on her shoulders, she almost seemed to have a halo. Michael liked to think of all the dirty things he'd do to his little angel. "You said something last night about going back to school?"

Madison bit her lip, she was nervous and simply adorable. She nodded. "Yeah, not like you have to pay for it or anything. I can get a student loan. I just need a little bit of a break so I'm not out on the street."

She really had no idea, did she?

He couldn't help it, Michael's hand reached out for her face. Her cheek was velvet and warm and the dimple tugged at his heart strings now just as it had so long ago. "Little girl, I have plenty of money. You know, the only reason I ever stayed in this life was so that I could give you anything your heart desired."

Madison looked worried and twisted her kissable lips. "So it's true? That's not just some of Mom's psycho bullshit?" She seemed shocked that the word had escaped her lips, "sorry, but you know how she was. Even when the FBI guy came over to talk to me, I kind of thought she must have made most of it up."

He sure did remember Charlotte's psycho bullshit. "Yes, it's true." What was happening to him? This was strictly not up for discussion. "I mean, if you're asking if our family is part of a larger syndicate that has ties to organized crime, the answer is yes." It sounded like a lawyerly explanation, something that Irv would tell him to say.

Madison twisted a piece of thick, black hair around her finger. She had also moved one foot to the barstool and the tee-shirt had shifted. Michael could easily look between her legs right now and see what color her panties were if he wanted and he so wanted. Don't you dare, his brain warned him. "So you really are a criminal? Like dangerous, right?"

Only to beautiful, little black haired girls that even in a tee-shirt look like a fairy princess. "I'm not," Icepick Romano lied. He was but then again, Icepick had to lie quite often. "It's not dangerous, as long as we take the necessary precautions." He'd had this discussion with her mother a long time ago and look how that had all blown up in his face. "We have security for a reason," he told her in a matter of fact tone, like everyone had armed guards at their door. The whole house was simultaneously wired for sound and video as well as swept for bugs every other day. Well, not his bedroom and not the playroom, conveniently enough. "And I'll need to know where you are at all times."

"Kind of strict, aren't you?" his daughter looked unsure. Madison was probably used to a long leash with her pill-popping, alcoholic tramp of a mother at the wheel.

Michael couldn't stop himself and once again, he touched her. This time it was just her hair, he ran his fingers through the thick, black mop. He remembered brushing it for her when she was little, but he'd been all thumbs when trying to put in the barrettes and bands and bows that she'd wanted. He smiled, it wasn't really that long ago. "Yes, I am strict, honey. That's because I need to protect you. Besides, Chicago isn't," he trailed off. Wherever she'd been, he imagined some podunk town in the middle of nowhere. "Where have you been?" he'd only been wondering for years.

"Florida, Washington, Arizona, Idaho, Texas," she counted the places on her fingers. "For a while we were in Kentucky," Madison made a face, "I have no idea why. Before Kentucky, California, New Mexico." She stopped but Michael guessed that it wasn't the end of the list, she had just lost track. "You know Mom, fresh start, new man, new town? Especially if she took her lithium."

No, Michael never knew that Charlotte. It was a shitty thing to do to Madison. After taking her away from the only home she'd ever known, to not give her any roots, no security? "Well Chicago isn't some little hick town in Kentucky," he told her. Madison's hair was so soft and a waft of her fruit flavored shampoo hit him as he continued to touch her. Michael bet that Madison smelled sweet and girlish all over her body. "So you'll have protection and I'll know where you are at all times. And when you need to go somewhere, you should have a driver."

"You mean I'll live in a castle and have a limo driver?" she giggled. "Like a princess? Why did we ever leave?"

That was a much longer conversation. There was one more thing, "and for now, I think it's better if we don't tell anyone that you're my daughter."

"Why?"

For a million reasons. Because the only one who even knew she existed anymore was Irv. Because guys could be turned by asshole cops and use whatever leverage they could get their greedy hands on. Because if the shit went down and somebody tried to kidnap his daughter again, or god forbid, something worse, he'd never forgive himself. To Madison, he just said, "I think it's better for now. Just tell people I'm your guardian, okay, honey?"

She nodded, agreeing but he could tell she was still a little frightened. Her eyes were somber and she looked like she'd just seen a monster somewhere and needed to sit in her Daddy's lap. "Can I ask you something, Michael?"

"Anything, little girl," Michael loved saying it even though it was perverse to call her that, given the fact that his dick throbbed with each syllable.

"So if it's not dangerous, why was this in the kitchen this morning?" Madison had reached behind her and pulled out the black leather ballgag. Her finger was on the red, rubber ball. "Is this for torture or something?"

Fucking idiots, they were supposed to clean up from the hookers and get rid of every trace. Michael's face was hot, he was embarrassed when he told her "no, Madison, it's not for torture." Although, he guessed it could be and Paulie sure had it coming after this oversight.

"Then what's it for?" She must still be able to read his expression, something she'd been uncannily good at when she'd been younger. "Wait, I think I figured it out," she said with a sly smile. Madison licked her upper lip and his cock dripped in response. She slipped the red ball between her lips and held the leather around the back of her head. She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively and he couldn't help but laugh.

She'd always had comedic timing. "Yes, that's exactly what it is," Michael chuckled and shook his head. He was fucked, how could he keep his proclivities from her? Better question, how could he want anyone else but Madison? His daughter took the gag off and put it in his open hand. "Sorry you had to see that. It was from last night."

Madison was definitely flirting with him. That had to be it, when she leaned in and whispered, "kinky."

On the other hand, how the hell would she even know what kinky was? Visions of the imagined boyfriend loomed again and Michael decided that she better not know. "What do you know about kinky, little girl?"

She was the one who was blushing now, "I read the Fifty Shades of Gray books. I know all about it."

Michael rolled his eyes, "If you're going to read something kinky, at least read a classic. Stay right there," he sounded gruff as he pointed at her. Rising from the barstool and adjusting his robe, he strolled down the hallway to the library. He should check to see what else the dumbasses had left behind now that his impressionable daughter would be snooping around.

Everything else seemed to be in place as Michael checked for any cuffs or zipties. One long glance at the ladder and he had to adjust his cock. It was far too easy to picture Madison tied there, wearing something adorable with easy access. Perhaps a short skirt with flowered panties? He bit his knuckles to keep the groan inside. This was excruciating. He grabbed the book he was looking for and smiled as he returned to the kitchen. Torture was what made the book he had picked for her so perfect.

"Here," he slid the leather bound volume across the marble countertop. "You always liked to read and I guess this is," Michael paused. Kinky, erotic, he could so easily imagine her turning the pages with one hand and exploring her curves with the other. God, if he walked in on that, there'd be no stopping him. "Educational," he finished.

Madison twisted her round lips and he wanted to bite them. "Hmm, The Story of O. Sounds interesting."

Michael didn't know how much longer he could control himself. His daughter was only wearing a tee-shirt and her nipples had just appeared under the fabric. "Don't you have anything else you could wear?" He hadn't meant to sound so impatient, but what the fuck? His dick was pleading for a release, in spite of the huge orgasm he'd had in his sleep.

She shrugged, "Like what? I just have the backpack, Michael. There wasn't much time. I was getting evicted after the foreclosure."

If he couldn't show her what she was doing to him, if he couldn't walk to her side of the breakfast bar and guide her hand into the opening of his robe and let her feel how her father's cock ached for her. If he couldn't even trust himself to kiss her on the forehead and welcome her home. Hell, if he couldn't trust himself with her at all really, at least he could at least do some of the parenting that he'd missed out on. "Then put on whatever you've got because I'm going to take you clothes shopping."

***

The Glasgow, Kentucky police had put a padlock on the door and posted the official foreclosure notice in the window but that didn't matter to him. He'd never met a lock he couldn't pick. With his small knife, he felt for the niches and was inside in under three minutes.

The house had always been a dump but now, abandoned and shut up like this, it was far worse. The scent inside was sickening. No one had remembered the garbage on their way out and the air was thick with warm rot. Clothes were strewn on the floor and he made a mental note to come back and sift through them when he had more time. He might find a memento or two..

He'd lost track of them a while back, somewhere in Arizona the trail had grown cold. It was difficult work without the Bureau's resources and he had Charlotte to thank for that. Once she had discovered that all of his promises were for shit and this story had no happily ever after, she'd turned him in to his superiors. She wasn't even that good of a fuck.

Agent Bruce Mueller had been fired promptly. It wasn't just for fucking Charlotte and watching her turn tricks for meth for his own twisted pleasure. It was just that Charlotte was the frosting on the cake of insubordination and a long stint of showing up to work drunk. Fuck it, Mueller said when they asked for his gun and his badge. Work was interfering with his drinking time anyway.

He would have loved to have forgotten all about it, the whole thing. Charlotte and her cute, little girl with the long, black hair and the big, blue eyes, fuck them both. She was just another single tramp mother and her fucking brat now that they weren't living with Daddy.

He had tried but he couldn't forget Michael Romano. Certain memories could not be erased no matter how much brain damage he did. Douchebag Romano was the reason for all of it. The name change had been first. Then the fake transcripts from University of Wisconsin that said he had a degree in criminal justice. It had taken five years to get assigned to the Chicago office and then another two to get on the task force that was to take the Romano family down.

Charlotte had been the key but it had never been for the FBI. It had always been personal and it was just the hate inside him that had kept him at it this long. No longer Bruce Mueller, he'd used so many aliases that sometimes he forgot his real name but he'd never forget hating Michael.

Now that Charlotte was dead, the kid was gone and the trail had gone ice cold again. Fuck, the kid could be useful. Even after all of this time, he bet that Daddy would move mountains for the little girl with one dimple. He'd seen her from down the block several times and the girl was more of a looker than Charlotte had ever been; especially the Charlotte of the last few years, jaundiced and skinny. He made a face, it was too bad that she'd turned into such a skank but it had been great fun to watch her go down.

He prowled the house looking for anything that would help. It would be too much to ask for a forwarding address. As far as he knew, there were no other relatives, at least none that weren't part of the Chicago crime family. Charlotte's family had turned their back when she'd married Michael. He couldn't say that he blamed them. Where would the daughter go? A girl her age with no money, no family and from what he could tell, nothing else but the clothes on her back?

In the bedroom there was a blue notebook lying open on the girl's nightstand. He took out the flashlight that he kept in his jacket pocket, clicked it and began to read. He smiled, he broke out into a wide, probably evil looking grin that turned into a dry laugh.

It was his lucky fucking day. Irv Goldin, the old prick was up to his eyeballs in Romano family dirt and here, he was after all this time. He was still the contact that Charlotte had kept tucked away. Bitch couldn't even fully commit to the Witness Protection Program, could she? He was surprised she'd taken it this long, being poor wasn't really convenient for Charlotte. She also had Michael's name and address. If the house wasn't as secure as Fort Knox, he would have gotten in there long ago but if the girl was there, he'd figure a way in. Or a way to get her out.

***

It had almost been two weeks and already Michael and Madison had a routine. By seven thirty, his daughter was dressed and sitting at the breakfast bar drinking coffee. She was an early riser and this morning was no exception.

His sleep had been erratic since Madison showed up and this morning he'd gotten up late. Michael was still in his bathrobe as he entered the kitchen. Madison was much more comfortable with him now which had provided him with far too many boners. This morning was no exception.

His gorgeous daughter stood in front of the coffee pot and clicked her tongue impatiently as she waited for the brew. She wore her inky, black hair in two long braids like he recalled she had so many years ago. Her usual outfit of jeans and a sweater had been replaced with a black dress. It was simple, long sleeved and fitted on top with a white collar and cuffs and a short, full skirt. Jesus Christ, Madison was wearing stockings. He spied the black, lace band circling each juicy thigh. They peeked at him from the hem of the skirt and couldn't hold back the noise. A sound of want, a groan, something deep from his belly that rumbled and hungered for her forbidden flesh. He tried to turn it into a cough and hoped that his daughter wouldn't see his cock beckoning to her from the robe. "Morning," she smiled and flashed him the dimple, "that doesn't sound good. Are you getting sick?"