My Strict Daddy

"Um, no, I'm okay," he constantly lied to her about his obsession. Michael had always thought of himself as smooth and debonair with women, at least until recently. Madison literally took his breath away and more often than not, he mumbled and found that he had clammy hands. He was so goddamn nervous that he'd lose control and just grab her and then it would be all over. His baby girl would know he was a pervert. "What's the dress for, honey?" Whatever it was, Michael was fairly certain she should stay at home dressed like that. There was no way she should be allowed out and about with stockings and heels and fuck, he wondered if there was a garter belt that framed her luscious bottom under there.

She stood up straight and cocked her head, "Today is my first day at work. You know, at the library." Madison was so proud of herself and as much as he admired the fact that she had gotten a job at all, he hated the idea that she'd be anywhere without him when she was a walking wet dream.

"Oh, right, the library," he gulped.

"So, do you like it?" Madison turned slowly for him and the full skirt moved around her thighs just enough to give him a split second glimpse. Yes to the garter belt, yes to the heels, yes to the dress that reminded him more than a little of Wednesday Adams, the girl from TV that he'd had a boyhood crush on. "Am I work appropriate?" she asked in a mock serious tone before giggling.

Michael wanted to flip the skirt up in back and show her how inappropriate the dress was. He would fondle her with his left hand as he reached into the bathrobe and fetched his leaking dick with his right. As he watched her bottom move, Michael could clearly see her push those round cheeks up against his crotch as he jacked off on her. It wouldn't take much more than a minute. She wouldn't even be late for work. He should be ashamed but he needed it too much to admit guilt.

Tommy rushed into the kitchen, "Boss, I gotta talk to you." It sounded urgent but Tommy, like the rest of them, had never passed up a chance to greet his daughter with a sideways glance and a longing tone that made Michael's chest tighten. "Hi, Madison," he sounded like a lovesick puppy.

"What is it?" he growled at Tommy. Interrupting his own lovesick puppy thoughts, especially in that dress, should be a punishable offense.

Tommy knew the code, especially when a civilian was present. He talked with his hands, "the thing that you were waiting for, you know, from south of the border." He meant cocaine that was from Mexico, from Ortega's rival. The cocaine that was strictly off the books and totally against their peace deal.

Michael nodded, "Yes?"

Tommy was apprehensive, "Looks like it ain't gonna be here on time, Boss."

Michael combed his fingers through his hair. "Well, did you check with Nacho?" Nacho was Ignacio and had put the deal together.

Tommy made a face, "Boss, seems like Nacho retired early." If Nacho had been whacked then there was about six ways that this deal was completely fucked and all of them were an aggravation. Especially when all Michael wanted to do was drop to his knees and let his tongue and teeth follow the line of his daughter's stockings.

There was no rest for the wicked. "Give me ten minutes," he pointed at Tommy. To Madison, he asked, "when are you leaving?"

She checked her phone, "Right now. I'll be home for dinner though." Madison put her cup in the sink and mesmerized him with a twirl of the skirt. She reached for her winter coat and scarf and slid the strap of her old backpack over her right shoulder. "Gotta go, Michael," she gave him a smile and a peace sign and her heels clicked down the hallway to the front door.

Fuck, he thought and sighed to himself, braids too. Michael could almost feel his hand wrapped around a braid as he pounded in and out of her from behind. Still wearing the dress, stockings, heels and garter belt. He'd shred the panties before thrusting to her depths. He couldn't leave until he'd taken matters into his own hands, he was fucking insane with lust. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Michael went back to his bedroom and locked the door behind him, just in case. He'd found them three days ago and Michael couldn't remember the last time he'd been so turned on. Maria had dropped them as she carried laundry to and fro. Michael hadn't stopped feeling guilty about keeping them but he also had no plans to give them back either.

His touched the prize, his daughter's pink, see-through panties.

He'd tucked them away in his top right drawer of the dresser. It was odd to be so secretive but this felt dirty and delicious and oh so wrong. How could Michael ever explain to his little princess the things that he did with her little silky panties? He couldn't even explain the urgency of wanting her to himself.

He opened the robe and closed his eyes. She was here, in his bedroom and she wore the black dress. With panties in hand, he inhaled the center. It was the strip of fabric that he imagined had been firmly hugging her delicate, bare lips all day. Michael had a grip around the base of his cock with the other hand and suddenly, he had closed the gap between father and daughter. On his knees, between her legs, he looked up at Madison's slippery crevice. Her thighs quivered in anticipation and her inner lips were in full bloom. She was open and invited him in for a taste of her delectable, little pussy. Michael worked his cock back and forth as he licked the place that most tasted of her. He moaned, he was there, his hands curled around his daughter's heart-shaped bottom as he buried his face in her damp folds. He licked her and felt her shudder as her father found her aching bud with the tip of his tongue.

"Daddy," she called out to him in a voice that was all at once from long ago and far too sexy to resist. It was a siren's song that was soaked in her teenage juices and Michael was drunk with the need for more. He wanted her all over his face. He needed to be marked with her scent and covered in his daughter's orgasm. It was so filthy to feel this way, had he ever wanted anyone this badly? His thighs clenched, his balls were drawn up close and the sound that came from him had to be stopped with his left hand or he'd scare the housekeeper.

He came with Madison's panties in his mouth and there was no end to the orgasm. Spurt after spurt, he was dizzy from the effort and his pulse drummed at his temples. He could hear her again, "Daddy," but this time, she was covered with her father's cum. He'd slide up to lie on her pillow. Michael could almost feel her as he gave her the little butterfly kisses that he used to press on her forehead; one, two, three, four, innocent kisses.

Fuck, he shook his head as he let go of his dick. Nothing about this was innocent.

***

It had taken seventy-two hours for his crew to track the man to the storage units on Lincoln. It was about forty-eight longer than usual, which Michael had thought was troubling. It wasn't like they had tried to hide this. His retirement had been a gruesome affair. Michael covered his mouth with his gloved hand as he felt the bile rise in his throat. The stink of death hung in the air and the clean up would have to involve arson or otherwise they'd miss something. "Sick motherfuckers," Paulie muttered as he waved off the flies. There was much too much DNA evidence in here for it to be anyone who cared about getting caught.

Of course, if this stage was set specifically for Michael to see, it was even more disturbing.

Both of Nacho's wrists were cuffed to the metal lawn chair. He was nude and his tattooed skin was mostly purple at this point. His clothes were missing from the scene along with the five or six gold chains that Michael always saw him wear. He had medallions with all of his favored saints hanging from the necklaces. Being a very religious man, Nacho wouldn't have given those up willingly.

The other thing that was missing was his penis and scrotum.

There wasn't going to be a coroner's report or anything official to let them know how long the perpetrator of this crime had let him bleed. The gaping wound on his throat would have been a mercy after a castration like that but had it been minutes later or days?

"Maybe it was an old girlfriend," Paulie offered, shrugging. "You know, some psycho broad, Nacho left her knocked up and she decided to take his balls."

Ignacio stood six feet tall and was built like a bull. He was covered in prison tattoos and his pecs flexed with every move. "How did a woman get him handcuffed to a chair, Paulie?" Michael wanted to know.

Paulie sighed, "Well, women are evil. You know, maybe she promised him hot, kinky sex and then, BAM! No more cojones for Nacho."

"How'd she get him to come here?" Michael asked, "I don't know, a storage unit doesn't sound like a place a woman wants to fuck at, Paulie."

A month ago, Michael would have agreed that women are evil but now, he was much too caught up in one little dark-haired angel to give it much credence. Madison was perfect. Perfectly smart, she had already caught up with both of her classes even though she'd started two weeks into the semester. Perfectly funny, she was always making jokes, trying to ease the tension between them. Perfectly lovely and there was nothing else to say about that unless he wanted to have to button his jacket to cover what he thought about his little girl.

Paulie had no answers. "I don't know," he admitted to his boss. Michael should care, he should care deeply. If Rafael and his crew were this escalated over something that they shouldn't even know about, then this could easily become a war.

The problem was that ever since she had shown up that night, there was only one thing Michael could concentrate on for more than a few minutes. "So where is the coke?" he asked Paulie. Finding Nacho's dead fucking carcass was fine but he had money in the drugs and so far they were coming up empty handed. Normally Michael would be furious about something this significant.

All he could do right now was thinking of her in braids. He was simply useless.

Paulie shrugged, he had his cell phone out and pressed to his ear. "Yeah, you're gonna need to do some clean-up work at the storage units," he barked into the phone and then ended the call. After all of that time with his face plastered on television, Michael shouldn't even be here. Michael "Icepick" Romano at the scene of another grisly murder, even if there were no physical evidence to tie him to anything, was still a pain in his ass.

He wanted to go home anyway. He wanted to take Madison out tonight, somewhere nice. He couldn't imagine that Charlotte had ever had money for the better things in life. He'd take her to Gene and Georgetti's and listen to his beautiful girl tell him about her new job at the library. Any excuse to be in her presence actually.

Once Michael was home, he made the reservations for two. It was a nice table in the back where they had a little privacy. After that, he poured himself a drink to take the chill off before taking a long hot shower. As he dressed, he scowled at his reflection. There were the worry lines that had become more and more prominent recently. He had traces of circles under his eyes, insomnia was a constant. At least he still had his hair, he groaned and shook his head. Why did he care? She was his daughter for god's sake, he was acting like this was a date, or at least what he remembered going on a date was like. There hadn't been any dates since Charlotte and maybe that was what was really wrong.

He was acting like a boy with a crush.

It was almost six o'clock when he heard the door open. Madison headed straight for the kitchen where she found him leaning up against the counter, waiting for her. "Oh, Michael," she sounded startled and a little out of breath. "Wow, it's cold outside," she opened the refrigerator, looking for a snack, he imagined. "It's going to take me a while to get used to this Chicago winter weather."

"Honey," he liked calling her that. Of course, he had all kinds of little pet names for her in his dirty imagination. "Are you hungry? I made us dinner reservations." It wasn't a date and she didn't belong to him, not in the way he wished anyway. Michael reminded himself and quickly added, "to celebrate your job."

She closed the refrigerator and gave him a disappointed look. Today's pink sweater dress clung to her body like a second skin without showing one bit of cleavage. Actually, it didn't have to, Michael had her curvaceous body memorized and he was starving for her. The knee high brown, suede boots covered her calves but it was okay, he'd unzip those later. With her hair up like that, it was easy to picture her working in a library. Michael thought he could cum in his pants if she was wearing glasses and shushed him with one dainty finger over her lips. "I'm sorry, I made other plans," she informed him in the breathy, little girl voice that drove him crazy.

"Like what?" He tried to sound casual and not crushed.

"I've got a date," Madison grinned. "He works with me at the library. His name is Steve. He's taking me to this burger place."

Immediately Michael thought, fuck Steve. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Madison crossed her arms over her chest and if she knew how that made her breasts stick out and beg for his attention, he doubted that she'd continue. "What do you mean, Michael? It's a date. Jesus, I get it. You have rules but you need to remember that I'm an adult."

"Barely!" he thundered. Michael had never shouted at her. He never, ever would have dreamed of it, even when she was little. He was jealous of a boy and having a temper tantrum. "Who is this boy? I don't know him. I told you there are rules for your own fucking good, little girl and you will abide by them as long as you live in this house!"

He was immediately sorry as soon as the words escaped. What was he trying to do, scare her? Of course she had a date. She was so breathtaking, there should be a line at the front door

Madison looked a little frightened but more angry than anything else. The storm cloud eyes churned with lightning and her voice was sharp. "Maybe I won't live here anymore since you're such a goddamn control freak!" she barked.

Madison stormed by him and grabbed her coat from the counter. On her way out the door, Michael bellowed, "Your curfew is midnight! Not one fucking minute after!"

Paulie was right, women were evil.

***

Waiting for her was agony. Michael had felt weeks come and go more quickly. He checked the phone constantly. He would swear that it had to have been at least thirty minutes only to discover that it had only been five.

He'd eaten in. He didn't have the heart to keep the reservation and eat alone. After a second glass of scotch, he stared at his phone and exhaled slowly. Not a call, not a text, nothing from his girl and he was going to lose his mind if he didn't get over this.

He paced and hoped that the jealous lover inside would hear the voice of reason. She was right. Technically she was an adult. Besides, she'd always been wise beyond her years. Michael was sure that growing up with a junkie, Madison had really been the adult all along. She must have been used to Charlotte being MIA for most of her choices. Madison was smart. She knew how to handle herself and she was really good with people, he shook his head. It wasn't like she was a virgin or anything, he bit his knuckle thinking about the boy fucking her in his piece of shit car after eating greasy burgers. God, please, not that.

It was none of his business, he reprimanded himself, and he'd have to get used to knowing that she was with someone else. Dammit, she deserved so much better. She deserved someone who appreciated her, someone who worshiped her like the goddess she was. His cock twitched in his black pants, as if to remind him how much it appreciated Madison. He could go upstairs and masturbate with her panties again and the idea made his collar feel far too tight. He had to unbutton and loosen the tie.

Better yet, since he had the house to himself, he could take a look for something else. His little, darling girl was far too innocent to ever suspect for one moment that her dear, old dad would stoop so low as to snoop through her underwear. Michael was sure that he could find something delectable, maybe even freshly dampened panties that had touched her luscious lower lips today. He groaned with shame as he wished for something he could lap up.

When had he turned into such a fucking pervert? Was it just because she was the first woman in the house since her mother? Michael shook his head to block out Charlotte.

He needed to get laid, that's what it was. Roz might not have the roster of girls that Michael would hope for but really, how could he be anything but disappointed when comparing them to the most beautiful girl in the world? This wouldn't include any of his preferred kink, just something quick and dirty. Michael needed relief and his favorite Madam answered the phone on the first ring.

"Boychik, I was expecting to hear from you," Roz spoke from the depths. "I've got someone you'll like," she told him. He could hear her click the lighter in the background and he imagined that she exhaled a cloud of smoke. "She's younger, she's got curves, you know, your dream girl?" Roz laughed and choked and puffed again, waiting for his answer.

Hardly, he had to smile to himself. His dream girl was out getting burgers with a douchebag named Steve. "Sure, sounds good," Michael agreed and checked the time. It was still only eight and what he required wouldn't take long. "Can she be here in thirty minutes?" he asked Roz.

"Like a pizza, Michael? Yes, of course, for you anything. Her name is Rose and she will be perfect and she'll be there in thirty minutes." She coughed and added, "don't mark her up, honey. She's new, everyone wants to see her."

He promised and once he'd hung up, alerted the man at the front door that he was expecting a guest. "Sure, Boss," he said he'd look out for her. "I guess that means Madison is gone?" His voice expressed disappointment.

Michael sounded as irritated as he felt, "Yeah, she's gone."

"Too bad, Boss. You don't see girls like her everyday, that's for sure."

No, you didn't and if he closed his eyes, he could almost see his daughter and Steve, locked in an embrace. Fucking Steve would probably get to run his hands along her succulent curves, feeling the soft sweater dress dip and valley all along her body. Fucking Steve would probably not even realize how goddamn lucky he was. Fucking Steve better not get to take that sweater dress off.

Rose arrived just in time for Michael to have poured another drink. She was younger than Candy or Irina, or at least she looked younger. Her face didn't have the miles on it yet. She wasn't skinny either, trim, Michael would say, but not voluptuous like he craved. Brown-haired, brown-eyed, she wasn't covered in tattoos or piercings, which was a start. She was definitely closer to what Michael would prefer. She would have been his new favorite before meeting Madison. She shook his hand and introduced herself like a professional, "Hey, I'm Rose. How are you?"

"Good, Rose. Thanks for being so prompt," Michael noted. As Roz had promised, she'd arrived with two minutes to spare. They would stay in the library, not because he couldn't have taken her to his bed but because he wanted to listen in case his daughter came home early.

"No problem," Rose told him. She cocked her head, flirting a little. "What are you in the mood for tonight Mr. Romano?"

What he was in the mood for involved a certain someone and a pink dress that he'd pull off over her head. He'd reach behind her, he'd unhook her bra and tug the underwire from her crease as her round, bare breasts tumbled out and came into view. Fuck, he cleared his throat and looked Rose in the eye. Not Madison, he reminded himself. Never could be Madison, "Honestly, I just need to blow off a little steam. Why don't you undress for me?" He settled into the leather chair and added, "nice and slow."