Porn Star's Daughter Ch. 15

[Author's Note: This is the final chapter of an ongoing saga of a young woman uncovering the mystery of her family's past. This chapter contains major spoilers for those who have not read earlier chapters. If continuity is important to you, it's highly recommended that you read the earlier chapters before this one. Otherwise, please enjoy.]

Chapter 15 - Success Is The Best Revenge

I stood in front of the mirror, my hands resting on the edge of the counter. I admired my handiwork, and had to admit that the transformation was astounding. I barely looked like myself.

Then again, that was the whole point.

Almost three months had passed since that fateful night where Tracy had humiliated me and Andrew had taken my anal virginity. I knew that for the rest of my life I would see that as the turning point, the moment that I would always look back upon and know that I would never be the same person ever again.

Now, as I looked at the strange image in the reflection, I knew that this night would be another pivotal one for the record books. I was barely recognizable - which was, of course, the whole point. I felt as if I was dressed up for Halloween, but this was going to be a trick and treat if I could pull it off.

There was still time to back out, to go back to the milquetoast wimp that I was just three months earlier. I could take off the makeup, fix my hair, change my clothes, and no one would be the wiser of my plans. It could remain a nice fantasy, a "what if Shannon had had the balls to go through with it," coulda-been-a-contendah moment.

I looked at the time. I only had forty-five minutes. If everything went according to plan, that was all the time I had to finish the job. There was still so much that could go wrong, especially when you count on other people to do what they were supposed to do, to be sure. But if my plan actually worked, that was all the time I had.

I swallowed, and butterflies swarmed in my stomach. Once I walked out that door, once I went down the stairs to my father's living room, once he saw me - there would be no turning back.

I didn't realize it was going to be this difficult to muster up the courage. I had planned this moment down to the smallest possible detail. Hell, I had trained for this. Every day. It had consumed my every waking moment, my entire being. I had held a secret double life that no one - not even Andrew, bless him - knew about.

All for this.

It's not going to work, Team Morality warned, ever the optimist.

You have to do this, Team Shutupandfuckme countered.

You're going to lose him forever. TM was up for the debate.

If you don't, you'll lose him anyway. Team SUAFM argued. If you wimp out now, both Tracy and Simone will win. All of this, all of their torment and torture, everything they did to you - they'll get away with it all. You really will be their bitch for the rest of your life.

Team Morality didn't seem to have another counter-argument.

They need to pay, Team SUAFM pressed onward. They didn't just do this to you, they manipulated your father, too! You aren't the only one suffering here.

I looked directly into my eyes in the mirror, my glasses-less contact lenses showing piercing green eyes without distraction. My brows knitted together in determination. You build to a moment and you either grab it, or you let it slip away and be gone forever and suffer the consequences of your indecision.

Team Morality was sold. Fuck them.

Pushing the last remnants of my nerves aside, I threw my fists out like a boxer preparing to enter the ring. My new hairstyle felt top-heavy. I had practiced this a couple of times before, trying to get the hairspray right. It felt solid and secure, but I was afraid that I would mess up my look if I bounced too much, so I stopped bouncing.

I nodded at my reflection, adjusted the little clothing I had on, and did one last check to make sure that everything was perfect. I opened the door, and strode out into the hallway with purpose. Every step and movement was fueled by pure, unadulterated attitude.

Showtime.

I sauntered to the top of the stairs and my father came into view. It dawned on me that this was exactly the same position I had been in when I watched Tracy and my father fuck that first night, those three months ago. Then, I had been hiding behind the banister, afraid of getting caught.

There was no time to be nostalgic. I had to keep my head in the game. Right now, being seen was the whole point. Everything was about look at me, motherfucker!

This was the moment where if it was going to go haywire, it would happen right now. I had planned everything to the last possible detail - the number of drinks for him to have (enough to loosen his inhibitions but not enough for him to pass out), the position of him on the couch to see my entrance, the exact time of day.

He could very well reject me, tell me to go clean myself up, and it would all be ruined. In fact, it was impossible to calculate all the different ways it could go south. The only way - the only way this was going to work was if I did it through sheer will and determination.

And, of course, attitude.

The previous three months built to this moment. Weeks of dedication, planning, conniving and plotting. I had played possum, pretended to be defeated while plotting my revenge in secret. So much pressure culminated in one single moment in time. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt a nervousness so violent it threatened to shake me apart. I needed to put on a mask of control, of determination.

After this moment, there would be no safety net. No going back. If I showed even a hint of hesitation, it would be all over, and three months of pain, hard work, determination, and deception would be for nothing.

My father sipped his drink as he watched the television, and his eyes flicked up to me as I made my way to the midway point on the stairs.

Then came the double-take. The disbelief.

The shock.

His face went bleach white, and his drink fell into his lap. He made no move to pick it up or even notice that he had spilled it onto himself. His mouth gaped open in utter shock.

He tried to swallow. "Z-Zoey?" he gasped.

I smirked. It had worked.

To my father, a ghost from his past had just come back to haunt him.

I was dressed in black bra and panties - thanks Mom for the tips on lingerie for all those years - sheer nylons, garter belt, and red stilettos. I hadn't shaved my head, but I had pulled up my hair into a massive spiked mohawk and colored it red and secured it with a ton of hair spray.

I watched my father's eyes scan me from top to bottom, and then from bottom to top. He saw the vine tattoo from my ankle to my shoulder.

I had memorized Punk Girl's main scene in the video. I had watched her movements, had bought the same clothes, even got the same tattoo. For all intents and purposes, my father was watching the mother of his daughter as she had been almost twenty years earlier. There was a poetry to it that I couldn't put into words.

His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes grew wide as I sauntered over to him. I had practiced this walk nearly every day for months. I had tried it on Andrew just to get over the feeling that I was an imposter and a poser, with fantastic results. I had come to expect Andrew's raging erection by the time that I was able to straddle him, and I hoped I would have the same results with my father.

My father.

For the time that I had spent planning this day - for all the preparation, the practice, and the pain - there was still just an abstract notion of what I was going to do.

Team Morality, gung-ho just a moment before, casually reminded me of what I was doing.

This is actual incest, TM pointed out. Not fantasy. Not "what if." Actual incest.

Yes? So? Team SUAFM challenged.

Nothing, Team Morality shrugged. Just pointing out the obvious. Carry on.

I did. Within a few strides I found myself next to him on the couch, my hands tracing up and down his chest. He shrank back against the back of the couch, unable to speak or even move.

A lascivious and predatory smile crept over my face as my hand dropped to his lap. Sure enough, my father was rock hard.

Even though I had taken Andrew into every orifice of my body, even though I had fucked myself silly with the dildo, I was completely unprepared for the sensation of touching my father's dick. It wasn't just bigger than Andrew, and it wasn't just a living version of the dildo. Even only touching it through his shorts for the briefest of moments, I knew this was different. It was an entity unto itself.

This'll be fun, Punk Girl had said when she touched him, and I suddenly knew what she meant. That is, it'd be fun if he didn't stop me.

My father shook his head. "Zoey? he repeated. Then, blinking several times to clear the fog of shock away as if he had finally figured out what was going on, he stammered, "Sh-Shannon?"

I had been expecting this, had prepared for his rejection. I knew exactly what I was going to do, and all I had to do was do it with attitude.

I swung my leg over his lap, and put one hand on his shoulder while keeping my other on his cock. I closed my eyes as I squeezed it, and it wasn't for show. It felt amazing underneath the clothing, and held such promise of glory and joy that I had never imagined in my entire life.

Team SUAFM was lining up shots in my head for the party.

He moved underneath me, and I remembered how effortlessly he had picked Tracy up and fucked her as if she was a mere inflatable doll. Acting quickly, I pushed my hand against his shoulder to keep his balance off, and he fell back against the couch.

I was under no illusion that he stayed where he was out of confusion and bewilderment, not because I was physically keeping him down. I had to keep going. I had to move fast.

Don't give him time to think, Team SUAFM urged.

"Listen to me," I said, still squeezing his cock. Good god, it was still growing underneath me. I felt it push up under my thigh.

He tried to move again, and I hissed at him. "Listen to me!" I growled. He stopped struggling, and looked at me wide eyed.

"You need to know the truth," I said, keeping pressure on his shoulder.

"Truth?" he asked.

I nodded. "Tracy has been manipulating you for months," I said. My face was serious.

"What?" he asked, trying to keep his bearings. "Tracy?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "She has been trying to keep us apart, push me out of your life."

"No, that's not true," my father protested. "She likes you, she even said - "

I cut him off. "You called me Zoey," I said. He stopped talking, and swallowed. "Do you recognize how I look?"

He looked me up and down again, and his dick involuntarily flexed in appreciation. I couldn't help but feel gratified knowing I was having this effect on him.

A growing look of comprehension dawned on him. "The video," he gasped.

I nodded, and felt the weight of the mohawk move with an odd sensation. His eyes widened in full realization. "That's why Christine couldn't find it!"

I thought back to the day I saw my father on the phone, shouting at Christine on the other line about needing to find something. At the time, Tracy had convinced me that it was some sort of lost work document, but later confessed that she knew he was upset about the missing video. Now I realized how she had subtly twisted both my and my father's expectations to suit her needs.

"She gave it to Simone," I lied, now putting my fingers under the waistband of my father's shorts. Thank god for elastic. It was only a little lie - all Tracy had done was tell Simone of its existence, but it was close enough to the truth for what he needed to know.

My father's face clouded over. "She did what?" he asked. Disbelief collided with what he already knew about Tracy, and it kept him too emotionally unbalanced for him to stop me. "But, why?"

I began gently massaging his dick through his shorts. As I had hoped, my little truth-bomb had kept him focused on what I was saying, not what I was doing.

"She told Simone about me," I said. "She wanted to get Simone to hate me."

My father's eyes told me that he was struggling to cope with this. He didn't want to believe it.

"She wanted to get me out of the way, to get me away from you," I said, now being more bold with my hand movements. "And she used Simone to do it. She knew what kind of person Simone is, and planned the whole thing out."

My father wasn't struggling against me any more, and he didn't even seem to notice that his cock was being stroked by his daughter. He was fully engaged in what I was telling him.

"For months," I continued, and put my entire hand down his shorts. The heat there was overwhelming, but I needed to stay focused. Almost there. Just a moment longer. "She and Simone tried to get me in trouble at school, and I had no idea why. Then she told me everything the day Simone and I fought."

I took him out. At one time, Tracy had said that she thought she saw rays of light bursting from his cock when she saw it for the first time. I may not have seen rays of light, but I swear I thought I heard angels singing in my ears.

Fuck me it was huge. It was enormous. It was the most beautiful thing I think I had ever seen. Say what you will about Tracy, but she knew a quality dick when she saw it. It was heavy. It was long. It didn't even seem human. I felt moisture in parts of my body that reacted all on their own.

Even though it was difficult to tear my eyes away, I looked him back in the eyes. I took my hand off his shoulder and began stroking him with both hands. I was overjoyed to find that he didn't try to stop me.

I felt like I had broken through a major milestone. He hadn't stopped me, even though I had his dick in my hands. His daughter's hands.

I knew he wasn't convinced quite yet, though. "She was jealous," I went on. "She knew you loved Zoey, and she knew you loved me. She thought that I took you away from her all of these years ago, and she has been scheming for years to take you away from me."

"Oh my god," my father gasped, the truth of what I was saying finally sinking in. "Michelle was right all along."

My mother had called Tracy a psycho, and my father had tried to ignore the warnings. Now, though, it was impossible to ignore the truth.

"Tracy has been trying to drive us apart," I said, stroking him in a pulsing fashion, trying not to draw too much attention to what I was doing, not just yet anyway. "She knows that I'm the one person you love more than her."

It was a bold and brash statement, but it was also the truth.

"Simone is my daughter, too," my father said, but it was a weak argument. He couldn't even say that he loved Simone - just that she was his daughter. I couldn't hide my smile at that.

"Tracy has been fucking Simone since her birthday," I informed him. His eyes grew wide. "She knows exactly how you feel about Simone, and has been using that to get to me. Tracy was the one who told Simone that I had sex and that's why we got into a fight at school that day."

My father's face drew into an angry frown. I pushed my hips forward a little, and felt the throbbing pulse of his dick against my pussy through my panties. I gasped, despite myself.

I leaned forward until I could put a hand behind his head. I ran my fingers through his blonde hair, feeling the fine silk slide through my fingertips. "Tracy doesn't know what love is," I said quietly, but tenderly. "She wants what you and I have. What we have."

My voice was low, barely a whisper. I needed to get him to think about me, and us, and the fact that we had been robbed of being close. I wanted him to think about all the years that had been wasted because he had been taken for granted. The very people that he had been trying to help didn't appreciate him, and had kept him from having a close relationship with the one he truly loved, and could have loved him back.

Me.

My father's attention snapped back to the here and now. "She doesn't know anything other than manipulation," I said. "She knows that you love me, and I love you, and she doesn't understand what that's like."

I grew closer to him. I was mere inches from his lips. If he kissed me, it would be all over. I would have him. But I needed to be careful.

"She doesn't know what this feels like," I whispered, continuing to get closer, squeezing his cock with loving caresses with my hand and flexing my thighs around his dick. "She doesn't realize that I'm never going to leave you. She knew that if we spent time together, if we were honest about how we really felt about each other, she couldn't possibly keep us apart."

He licked his lips. He was conflicted, torn. Confusion was threatening to tear him apart. I was at that knife edge and dancing along it trying not to fall one way or the other.

My voice grew hoarse and fell into an intense whisper. "I want to be honest with you, just like I finally allowed myself to be honest with myself. She knew - she always knew - that if we just kept lying to each ourselves then she could steal it for herself."

I had rehearsed this line for weeks. I had chosen my words carefully, picked the ones that I thought would have the most impact in the shortest amount of time. I had looked in the mirror, held the dildo in my hand and practiced it over and over. I had trained my voice, my words, had memorized my little speech into a one act play. It came off flawlessly.

"She's scared of what will happen if you and I know the truth," I said, being careful not to call him "Daddy". Not yet. Don't screw it up, Shannon!

"She knows I can give you everything you want, and that I'll never leave you," I panted, and not as part of the act. Holding onto his cock and pressing it against my body was having a very real effect.

"She wants to win by making us lose," I said, my voice low and intense. Almost there; I was readying myself for the kill. "I don't want her to win. Don't you want to win? Don't you want to finally get what you've always really wanted? Don't you want... me?"

I nodded my head in an attempt to subliminally get him to nod back, my forehead pressed against his. If he did that, then it would be all over. All he had to do was nod, give me the permission I so desperately needed. Once he did that, my revenge would be complete. Well... almost complete.

He nodded.

I kissed him.

Weeks of preparation and practicing, hundreds of hours of mental exercises - all came down to this moment. He hadn't rejected me when he saw me. He hadn't backed away when I straddled him. He hadn't thrown me off him. He listened to my story. But this... this was the third rail of our relationship.

He kissed me back.

Holy fuck, it worked! Both Team Morality and Team Shutupandfuckme screamed in amazement in my head.

It started softly at first, our lips barely touching, the skin brushing against each other with tentative insecurity. His breath was sweet from the drink I had made, sweet but hot. He inhaled the moment we touched, a jagged catch in his throat, and then I felt him fold into me in acceptance and consent.

I explored his kiss with eagerness, the hand in his hair holding him to my mouth as I ran my tongue across his. He found my tongue stud, and made a slight whimpering sound as old memories of the pleasure he'd once experienced came back to him. I felt his hands snake around to my ass, and I instinctively pushed forward as he pulled me toward him.