Of Course, Daddy Ch. 02

I woke Sunday morning after a fitful and dreamless sleep. The first thing I noticed was the pain. Had I been drinking? My head hurt like I had been on the mother of all benders, and the morning sun seared my eyes closed. I tried again to force them open, but the room swam around me.

The bed beside me was warm, and the touch of Emily's bare form eased the pain. I couldn't remember what we had done last night, and that bothered me, but all was well so long as I woke beside her.

"I love you," I whispered as I pulled her closer.

She pressed back sleepily, rubbing herself against me as my arms wrapped around. So easy to find her breast in my hand, the scent of her hair in my face. Had she changed products? It smelled different today. Tantalizingly familiar, but not her usual.

She let out a soft, sleepy moan of appreciation as my hands strayed lower. If only I could, I would have loved nothing more than to stay in bed with her all day. No such luck, I had things to do.

I made my way downstairs and straight to the fridge. A couple eggs, a bit of milk, and a stir of the whisk until they were smooth and creamy. My train of thought slipped away, and I must have stared at the frying pan for nearly five minutes before I came awake.

What was I doing again?

Oh. right, making Catherine breakfast in bed. The pan took a minute to warm up, so I began cutting all the slices into romantic heart shapes that I knew she would adore. Smiling in satisfaction, I set them on the pan and watched them sizzle.

Why was I making her breakfast in bed? My head was way too fuzzy, but this was important. Everything was moving on autopilot this morning, actions taken with out any understanding.

The shapes did look absolutely adorable, and I was proud of that, but everything about this was a terrible I idea. The absolute last thing I wanted was to encourage Catherine's attentions, and that's exactly what this would accomplish. I should have stopped there, but for some reason I didn't. Or rather, I couldn't. I couldn't remember why, but knew that was very, very important I take care of this. I shook my head, trying to clear out the cobwebs, but it didn't really help. Too early to think, just focus on preparing a nice, romantic breakfast for Catherine.

Romantic?

The thought slipped past before I could fully grasp hold. With each passing moment, the haze in my mind cleared, but it was still like trying to peep through a frosted windowpane. I could catch rough outlines, but detail seemed to elude me. Something was wrong, but without any understanding my worries slipped away.

Breakfast complete, I arranged everything nicely onto the tray. French toast, heavily slathered in thick maple syrup (Catherine's favorite), a small bowl of fresh strawberries, and a glass of orange juice. It all looked tasty, and I was sure she'd love it, but there was something missing.

"Could use a few flowers or something," I muttered, still barely than half awake, "Too bad I don't have a rose, that would be really romantic."

Romantic. Again with that word. That isn't right. Why am I-

Actually, we did have roses, but I could't just-

"This is a terrible idea," I told myself as I stood beside Emily's prize winning Rose bush. "If she finds out I cut one, she's going to kill me."

It would be so romantic, though, and breakfast didn't wasn't complete without one. It was so very important that Catherine love every bit of it. I should do whatever was necessary to make her happy.

Something hung just barely out of reach in my mind. Some all important memory that would explain everything if only I could grasp it, but I couldn't.

Oh well, if it was really important, I'd remember sooner or later. For now, I had to bring this up to Catherine.

Why Catherine, though? Why her and not my beloved wife?

That was an important question, but I couldn't remember why. I worked it over, puzzling it out as I slowly approached the door. Something was there, just on the cusp of realization, if only I could tease it out. I hadn't made breakfast for my wife because, because...

Because she was still out of town.

"Good morning, daddy," Catherine said, smiling as she sat up and let the covers fall to her waist.

Her face beamed innocently as she propped herself up in her bed. The bed, I now realized, where I had gone to sleep last night. The bed where I had woken this morning. Beside a woman who was not my wife.

Since when did I think of her as a woman?

Since yesterday. There was horror, the beginnings of a terrible memory that I could feel, but not quite grasp.

Remembered, and could do nothing about it.

"I brought you breakfast, sweetie," I said, smiling as I handed her the tray.

No, no! Stop it, this is wrong! I railed against the memory, and against this strange compulsion, but I may as well have been swimming through a raging floodwater. So much easier to just sit back and let the current carry me where it would.

Our hands touched as she took the tray from mine, and I bent down to kiss her on the lips.

"That's so sweet of you, daddy."

She beamed at me, her face still lit with joy at seeing me. It warmed my heart to see her so happy. An immense surge of pride filled me, the satisfaction of brightening the day for someone I cared about, and the pride at a job well done. It was oh so very important to make Catherine happy, because-

Had I really just kissed her? What was wrong with me? I needed to stop this right now.

"Don't look away from me, Daddy. Don't you know it's rude to ignore your girlfriend?"

I looked, I couldn't help myself. There was something about her, something in her voice that just could not be denied. That was how I found myself once again staring at my stepdaughter's tits. I'd meant to look away, or at least keep my eyes at her face, but they drew me in. Maybe it was the lure of the forbidden, or the way she kept sticking her chest out when she caught me looking. She knew. Somehow, she understood how powerless I was to look away, and was exploiting it for all it was worth.

They looked so soft and inviting. I stared openly at them, watching the morning sunlight paint lines of pure radiance across their curves. The sight of them filled my eyes, and a memory of their touch filled my thoughts. Heaven help me, a part of me wanted to touch them again. Distracted as I was, I could see only the faint curve of her lips, which twisted upwards in triumph as she surveyed my helpless admiration.

Why? Why couldn't I look away from her? Then I remembered. I remembered everything.

"No!" I gasped, trying to deny the awful truth. "Tell me this is all just a dream. We didn't, we couldn't have-"

"Of course we did," she giggled. "And you liked it. Didn't you."

"Yes, I loved it," I said automatically.

Emily was going to kill me.

I shook my head, trying to clear away these stubborn influences.

"But that doesn't matter," I told her, "This is wrong. I'm your stepfather, not your boyfriend, and we can't-"

"Shh..." she interrupted, "we can worry about that later. For now, let's talk about where you're taking me on our date."

"Date?"

A sudden, sinking surge of horror burgeoned to life within me.

"Of course, silly," she giggled again, "You are my boyfriend now, and boyfriends take their girlfriends out on romantic dates all the time!"

Smiling again, she tossed back her hair and ate another slice of her french toast. This was insane. Bad enough that I had touched her, that I had known her, there was no way I could go out with her. Not in public, where anyone might see us. I couldn't let this continue, I had to find a way out.

The drug was weakening, or at least I thought it was. Her commands not quite as insistent as they had been yesterday, but I was still powerless to look away. Was I not trying hard enough? She did have a very lovely chest.

"First, we're going shopping downtown. We can go to all the little boutiques down main street. Then we'll eat at that totally cute bistro beside the park. Oh, I know! Then we can go to the zoo! Doesn't that sound like fun, daddy?"

"Baby, this isn't a good idea," panicking, I tried to reason with her. "You know we can't-"

"Oops," she said with mock innocence as she dripped a trail of syrup down the front of her chest. "Could you clean that up for me, daddy?"

"Of course," I said automatically, turning to go get a cloth.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a-"

"Don't be silly, daddy! Look at it drip. Do you want it to get everywhere? Of course not. So hurry up and use your mouth.."

No matter how desperately I tried to resist, it was no use. Inch by helpless inch, my head lowered towards. My mouth watered ever so slightly, and I realized that some sick part of me was looking forward to this. She was Catherine, my wife's daughter, but at the same time her breasts were lovely. At some level, I couldn't help but want to touch them.

Then my mouth was on her. Licking, sucking, exploring my stepdaughter's naked chest with my tongue. She tasted sweet and fleshy. The spilled syrup blending seamlessly with the natural flavors of her skin. Soft too, so soft. Incredibly warm and pliant.

I heard her breathing quicken as a small moan escaped her lips. Her mother's breasts had always been sensitive, and apparently that trait had been passed down. I found myself nibbling at her skin, playing with her chest in the same way that always delighted her mother.

"Oh, just like that, Daddy," she cried out between helpless moans. "but lower, just a little lower."

The outside of my lips brushed against something small and raised, and just like that I was sucking my stepdaughter's nipples.

"Yes, Daddy, Yes!" she screamed, "More! Harder! I need- Oh!"

My lips closed around it, sucking tight around her soft teen nipple. As my tongue swirled, I heard her cry out again in pleasure. If she was anything like her mother, she was now beyond words. My hands slipped under her waist, feeling her body shiver with need as I ran them up her sides. When had they joined in the action, I wasn't even sure. There had been no command, no order to feel up her soft, slim body. It just felt right.

Her body arched back, crying out as hands and mouth brought her first orgasm of the day. It still felt right, touching, feeling, tasting her nubile body. Even though my head cried out to stop, I didn't actually want to. My whole body was on fire now, and what I really wanted was to throw aside the last of her blankets and climb atop. Taking her not because she had told me to, but because I wanted it. Wanted to throw caution to the wind and claim this soft, willing female beneath me.

No!

I wouldn't do it, I wasn't so far gone as that. I may not be in control of my actions, but damn it all, that didn't stop me from doing the right thing.

Forcing myself to pull away, I took a long step back from the bed. The hardest step I had ever taken. I could still see the marks my mouth had made on her luscious breasts, could all but taste them still. She murmured in complaint as my mouth left, but smiled dreamily and didn't protest. Her fingers still worked slowly between her legs, and it took every ounce of self control I had not to stare at her bare, glistening pussy.

This was my chance. I had regained some small measure of self control. I should use it now. Leave, get away from her while I still could. And then...

Then what? I couldn't just abandon my wife's daughter. What could I do? Lock her inside her room, keep her prisoner all week? She had school Monday, and I certainly couldn't keep her home sick all week. Run away? Leave her, leave everything behind and go... where?

Then the moment passed, and she opened her eyes.

"Mmm... that was wonderful, daddy."

With a sudden hop that sent her breasts shaking delightfully, she jumped up from the bed. Grabbing my hand, she started to pull me into the hallway. Towards the bathroom.

"Come on. We've got a big day, so we'd better hurry and get cleaned up."

I took a few steps, and she sauntered past me, shaking her naked rear. Everything in me cried out to follow her, to savor the touch of her soft, young flesh as much as possible, but I knew it wasn't right.

"Baby, I don't think- No, I won't."

I stopped, surprised that I could, even if I still felt that pull urging me forward, but barely, just barely, I was able to resist it. She pouted, petulant and angered, and for a moment I thought she was going to order me again. I wasn't sure if I could resist a second time.

"Fine," she said, cocking her naked hips as she waggled her finger scoldingly. It wasn't the only part of her that moved.

"Then go get ready for our date, and think about what you missed," with a flourish, she swung her hips around and made her way to the bathroom. It was almost comical, how much she was trying to act mature, but given what had happened I was in no mood to laugh.

I left to dress, wanting to get myself into something more presentable than the ratty shorts and t-shirt I'd thrown on this morning. It bothered me, following her orders again, but I did my best to ignore that. Whatever happened next, I'd feel a whole lot better if I were dressed.

Hovering outside my closet for a long while, I agonized over which shirt to wear. I must have spent ten, maybe even fifteen minutes waffling between my two favorites, before I realized that I was trying to decide which one Catherine would like better.

Fuck it, the blue one then.

With a sudden burst of panic, I heard the water stop. Just a few minutes now, and there she would be. Outside my door, ready to begin whatever twisted plans she'd laid out for today. In a flash of inspiration, I locked the door and threw on a pair of old headphones I mostly kept around for the gym. The drug was fading, whatever it was. If I could just keep away for a few more hours, then I could...

What? I wasn't sure. Should I punish her for this? How? What could I tell Emily when she got home? Maybe I should go to the hospital, get some blood work done. They'd believe me when traces of the drug turned up in my blood. Wouldn't they?

Now that I thought about it, I wasn't sure. I mean, I'd never heard of anything like this before. Where had it come from, how had she gotten her hands on it? Would it even show up in the lab report? What if it didn't? What would people say when they found out I'd fucked my teenage stepdaughter?

My confidence draining by the minute, I lay my head in my hands and tried desperately to think of a way out of this. Lost in thought, I didn't realize the door was open until I saw Catherine standing in front of me.

In one hand was a key. Of course she had one, why not? I wonder how many times she'd already snooped around our private space. Would we have even noticed? It's not like we were paying close attention to the keys.

In her other hand...

"No!"

I tried to spring away, but Catherine had other ideas.

"Stay there, daddy," she commanded, and I came to an uncomfortable realization. It was all well and good to resist her commands, to plant my feet and freeze in place. That I could do. Forcing myself to move against her orders was an entirely different story. I was so close. A little more time, a little more volition... it didn't matter. She wasn't going to give me either.

Because in her left hand, slowly rising towards my face, I saw a small pile of light blue powder. I had seen it once before.

"Catherine, this is wrong. So wrong. You need to stop this."

I tried to turn my head, but just a light touch on my chin forced it back. The hand level now, her outstretched arm extended towards my face. Trembling, I tried to move, to push her away and get out of here. The will was there, just out of reach. Just a few more minutes, an hour at most, and I might have resisted her, but here and now it proved useless.

"Don't do this," I said, trying to keep my voice firm even as I was scared out of my mind. Catherine laughed, like this was all some sort of pointless joke.

"In a few minutes everything will feel so much better. Don't worry, I talked to Amanda. She says you don't even need it after the first couple weeks. Soon you'll be good all the time. Won't that be great?"

I shook my head, trying to make her see what she was doing. How absurdly far she'd crossed the line here.

"Catherine, you can't-"

"Breathe deep, daddy," she said, shoving her hand under my nose. Before I could stop myself, I inhaled. Panicked, I tried to force it back out, but my head started spinning and I couldn't remember why.

There was a face in front of me, a beautiful, smiling visage hovering just before my eyes. In the back of my mind, I knew that I should recognize her, but at the moment that was beyond me. All that mattered was staring into her deep, limitless eyes. She spoke, and her words were the most important thing I'd ever heard uttered.

"You love me, daddy. You're my boyfriend, and I'm your girlfriend."

That wasn't true. A falsehood, striking a dissonant note in that otherwise angelic voice. Somehow, I knew the words she spoke were false. And yet... they didn't have to be. They weren't true yet, but I could make them be true. That would make her happy, and it was very important to be happy.

"You always want to make me happy," she said. That was true. I already did, even before she said it. "I'm the prettiest girl you've ever seen. Even- no, especially prettier than mom."

Another face came to mind, superimposed on the angel in front of me. Older, but no less beautiful. Who was she? Someone important, I knew that too. There was some connection between us, I knew that. Far less insistent than what I felt for the girl sitting on my lap, yet deeper and richer for it. The slow, pulsing rhythm of a deep ocean current, next to a swiftly rushing stream.

Emily

I shook my head, trying to shake away the cobwebs. It came back slowly, and in tattered pieces. Emily, my wife, and the love of my life. But it was Catherine's body I felt pressed against me, and Catherine's face just inches from mine. The powder hadn't done all she'd hoped for, but it had done enough. Whatever resistance I'd possessed was long gone, and I knew that I would obey her unquestioningly.

"Do you understand, daddy?"

"Yes," I nodded.

Whatever she'd tried, it wasn't quite capable of altering my feelings for her, and for my wife. At least not yet. Who knew what limits this drug had. Whatever the case, I now felt compelled to act the part. She was in charge, and until the drug faded her word was law.

She smiled at my acceptance, and I was glad I could make her happy.

"Kiss me," she said, and I obeyed.

Our lips met, bodies entwined. Romantic, soulful, and with just the right amount of tongue. I was treating her like the beloved girlfriend she wished to be, and she responded eagerly.

"Much better," she said breathlessly after we broke our kiss.

No, it wasn't, but I smiled and nodded. A good boyfriend would be happy after kissing his beloved? I did so very much want to please her.

"Now come on, daddy, or we'll be late!"

Arm in arm, we strolled through the downtown streets, ogling every fancy boutique the town had to offer. Three times her excitement got the better of her, and we absolutely had to go inside. Each time, she swept through the racks like a kid tearing into the presents beneath an overstuffed christmas tree. Going absolutely wild over all the Totally Cute! outfits they sold.

Of course she had to model them for me.

This would have been so much easier had Catherine been plain. If I'd been able to bury any shred of attraction to the girl who came out primping and posing in the new designer clothing, coyly flashing leg and shoulder as she showed off for me. I would have felt much better if it were a lie when I told her how beautiful she looked.