Perspectives

"Are you all right, Layla?" I asked, cautiously.

Her voice was small again, young. But satisfied, and happy. After everything I had done to her, she was still just as in love with me as she had been.

"Yes, daddy. I…I'm wonderful, thank you. This is what I wanted…and needed."

Now that I was calm and clear-headed, I felt guilty, but not as much as I probably should have. Instead I felt like this was…right. I mean, no one else would, but the rest of the world wasn't in the room with us. Only we existed in that moment, and I knew what I had to tell her. It had to be true, and she needed to know how I loved her.

"You're…you're my Good Girl, Layla. I couldn't be more proud of you for what you've accomplished already, and right now, I can't imagine having you out of my life, so I suppose we have to work this out."

"Yes, daddy."

"You don't have to decide now, but I'd like us to…stay like this. If you want to stop, then I will. At any time."

"Yes, daddy. But I want this. I don't want anything different."

I sighed. One more thing had to be mentioned, the rest could wait until after she'd rested.

"If this is to work, then we must be honest with each other from now on. No more lies between us."

"No more lies, daddy. I'll only tell you the truth and hold nothing back."

"But we both have to keep lying to everyone outside of this room," I added with a cynical laugh. "I don't think anyone else needs to know about our relationship?"

"Are you going to keep me a secret?"

"No, I don't mean that. Just that we can never share anything about us being father and daughter with anyone. It would ruin both of our lives, and yours is just getting started. If you want to be…with me — really with me — then you need to be ready to keep our secret, forever. Can you do that?"

"Yes, daddy. I'll never tell."

"All right. You can rest now."

"You'll be here when I wake up? You're not leaving me, are you?"

Even after all of this, her greatest fear was that I would not be here in the morning. No, I decided. I would not leave her. She was my daughter, after all.

I held her for a long time, until she fell asleep, then I slowly rose, to avoid waking her, and I covered her with a sheet. She looked so peaceful like that. Not like someone who had been brutally fucked by her own father.

I hadn't really done anything like this since I was a young man. I'd had plenty of rough sex, to be sure, but I'd been brutal with Layla. I'm not saying I did anything she didn't want, but there were times when she literally could not have said no even if she had wanted to, and it wasn't like we had a safe word or anything like that.

It feels like I'm not taking responsibility for my actions to say this, but our mutual desire had become like a malevolent fire, blazing with a purpose, driving both of us to extremes that individually we would not have considered. My discovery of her secret betrayal had turned it white-hot, made me want to truly punish her and hurt her. Maybe she'd wanted to be punished. I didn't like that feeling, but, at the same time, I did. It was invigorating. I felt young and powerful.

I tried not to consider how society and public at large might judge me if they knew I had done such things. I had committed grave sins by any standard: religious, moral, or legal. My newfound vigor turned to panic in a moment. I suddenly understood all those middle aged men who had done unspeakable, terrible things, simply to protect a secret. An indiscretion. To prevent what they had built their whole lives being torn apart by a single mistake. As I watched Layla sleep, I could not stop my mind from running through various scenarios. She was so small and vulnerable. Fragile, even. And, after everything we'd done, she trusted me, implicitly. It would not be difficult to…

No! I was immediately disgusted with myself, even more so than I had been for having fucked my own daughter. I felt something for her. I had felt something before I knew, even. I would not have acknowledged it, had I not found her secret. We had just met, after all, and it was too early to be forming attachments, but there it was. Now that I knew, I couldn't abandon her, and I wouldn't hurt her.

But would I stop fucking her? Could I? And was it really just fucking? I didn't think so. Neither of us might be able to admit it, right now, but there was more to it. There was too much to think about. Rather than go mad, I did the one thing I was sure about. I showered, ate a little, and then crawled in next to Layla and passed out.

Tomorrow could take care of itself for a little while longer.

Layla - Father's Days

Things went…normal…after that, I guess. I woke up to Michael, to my father, making breakfast. I could tell that he felt guilty, but I felt…amazing, if incredibly sore. I had never imagined that kind of punishment even existed, or that it would lift the shame and angst from me. Weirdly, we had a very nice morning, just talking about nothing before he left for his meetings and I got to work. I still texted him rather obsessively. Part of me was sure that he wouldn't want to see me again, but, I was wrong.

Later that evening, when I was eating dinner at Michael's house, I apologized to him for lying and he apologized to me for how rough he had been, but it was like a formality. I'd already forgiven anything he'd done as soon as he had rolled off of me, just like he had forgiven me after using me. It was a sedate, comfortable, romantic night, almost like we were lovers who had been together for years instead of days.

We decided to start formally dating. I went with him to parties and premiers. There was talk, of course. People criticized Michael for the "near-predatory age gap" between us. People criticized me for being a "shameless little gold-digger". Eventually, though, it became clear to everyone in our inner circles that we were in love with each other. The tabloid sites could write whatever they wanted. They'd never know that the truth was even spicier than any of their lies could ever be.

There have been quite a few pitfalls, like how much to be involved with the rest of his family. And, as much as I love having him cum in me, I'm not having kids. That's just…too much for me, at least right now. We've talked about eloping, though, so that's probably going to happen sometime.

My podcast keeps doing well, so I started a channel. Michael still works, makes great money, and turns in great performances. Sometimes, we give each other what we need. Things that no one else could. I get to regress a bit and be a sexy little brat for my daddy, and he gets to discipline me with a ruthless abandon.

Really, I couldn't have asked for a better father.