Stealing Anne from her Master Ch. 01

"Sit down," I said to my daughter and her boyfriend, "let's chat."

Anne, my 35-year-old adopted daughter, sat down in one of my armchairs, while Michael, her 28-year-old boyfriend, sat on the couch. I sat in my recliner. "Dad, be nice please," Anne said.

"I'm not going to be intentionally mean or rude. How nice I am is entirely dependent on Michael here; on his responses to my questions and the feel I get for him. Either way, you're going to sit there and remain quiet and stay out of this conversation unless someone asks something that requires a response from you, understand? I want to have a talk with the person who wants to be with my daughter," I told her.

"Fine, dad," Anne responded. She has a thing about having the last word with me sometimes.

It might seem odd that I was having the dad talk with my 35-year-old daughter's boyfriend; she's a grown woman. But the fact of the matter is, she's very inexperienced. She's only ever been in one serious relationship that lasted for 5, and she's only ever had sex with 2 men. As far as sex and relationships go, she could be likened more to a teenager learning and finding her way, and I was concerned at how quickly she was moving with this new guy. She'd only just met him a month ago for the first time in person.

She slept with him the first time she met him, and then moved on to spending the night the next time a couple weeks later, then the weekend and coming home 'in a committed relationship' with him. She, and her 2 kids, live with me because she can't afford to make it on her own right now, despite having a decent job with decent pay. The cost of living was just so far out of hand that she couldn't afford to be out on her own, not as a single parent. I didn't mind having them here, I loved my daughter and grandkids and would do anything for them.

"So, Michael," I asked, "what do you do for a living?"

"I work at a grocery store in the evenings making produce and fruit trays," he said.

"And are you going to school?" I asked.

"No, just working and hanging out," he replied.

"Do you have any plans for the future? What do you want to do career wise long term? Do you want to learn a trade, move into management, learn a skill and turn it into a business?" I asked.

"No, not really," he said, "I don't really know what I want to do. I'm content with where I'm at, even if I really don't have any extra money. I get plenty of time to relax at home and play games and hang out with friends."

OOF, that's a red flag. While I certainly get starting out at the bottom, at almost 30 I'd expect there to be some thoughts beyond just barely making the bills and chilling. That's the way her ex had been. It slid into not even making the bills, not helping around the house, and not helping her at all - he was just in the relationship for someone to be there for him, cook for him, clean for him, and give him sex. She didn't need another of those losers.

"I see," I said. "Well then, tell me about the shooting incident."

Michael Got visibly tense and anger crawled across his face. My daughter had told me he'd had a drug problem in the past, but he'd supposedly gotten clean and stayed that way for 4 years. I, of course, googled him and one story I'd come across was a shooting incident a few years ago. He had been the victim, but the article made it sound like the shooter was known to him. Perhaps a friend or associate, possibly a drug related dispute, or drug fueled stupidity?

"I don't want to talk about that," he said, practically spat, through clenched teeth.

"Well, no offense, but I don't care if you want to talk about it or not," I said. "I know you used to have a drug problem, and the article made it seem like the shooter was a friend or associate of yours. I just want to make sure that if that's the case, you're not still hanging around with those types of people and that your former lifestyle is not still a factor in your life today. Even if you got off the drugs, the rest of the lifestyle would be a concern."

"I got clean 4 years ago, and I've stayed that way," he said, "and if that's not enough for you then you can go to hell. I don't have to explain anything to you."

I noticed him tensing his arms and clenching his fists. This looked like it was going to be another red flag. If he couldn't handle some tough questions without losing his temper, I was dubious as to whether he could be trusted when things got rough in a relationship and things get said in the heat of the moment.

"Michael," I began, making sure to keep my tone even and calm, "I'm just trying to get a feel for you and make sure my daughter isn't at risk. I think, if you're being reasonable, you can understand how this would be concerning to me; how your previous lifestyle and friends or associates possibly being involved in shooting someone, possibly over drugs, would be of concern to me if you were still living any part of that lifestyle or hanging out with those same types of people."

"Try to understand I'm not attacking you; I'm trying to make sure that the person my daughter is going to be spending time with doesn't - directly or indirectly - pose a threat to her because of their lifestyle or the people they're around. I wouldn't want her to get caught up in something like that going bad in the future. I feel like that's reasonable, and asking the question I am is reasonable," I finished.

Michael sat there silently for a moment and then the anger drained from his face. His fists unclenched; his arms relaxed. I thought this was a good sign; he was calming down and we could have a rational adult conversation. Then he leaned forward, and his face took on a hard, cold look. I looked at Anne; she looked very worried.

"Frankly," Michael began in a steely voice, "I don't give a shit what you think is reasonable. I already told you I don't have to explain anything to you, and I'm not going to. You can't stop me from seeing her. She's already mine. Your daughter belongs to me." He said.

"Now hold on there..." I started.

Michael interrupted me and said, "No. You had your say, now I'm going to get mine. Anne belongs to me. She let me fuck her the first time we met. She's been sexting and dirty talking with me every day. When she didn't do something I told her to do, I punished her by ordering her to give her ex a blowjob the next time she saw him, and she did. The 2^nd time she came down, her ex wanted sex as payment to take the kids a day earlier so she could come down sooner. I ordered her to give him what he wanted because I wanted her here sooner."

"She did it. She fucked him and then came down to me. she sucked my dick in front of my best friend and let me use all 3 of her holes as my personal cumdump - MULTIPLE times. She's never even asked me to use a condom and I never have. I told her to send me nude pictures, and videos of her masturbating with a vibrator, and she did it without complaint. She let me take explicit pictures of her."

Michael paused for a second, and before I could interrupt, he continued, "The last time she came down she let me tie her up and blindfold her and take her however I wanted. There were even other people here when it happened, and she knew that I could be letting any of them have their way with her. She was willing to let that happen, and she made that clear up front. The next time she comes down, I'm GOING to let other guys have their way with her and use her as a cumdump."

"I haven't even had to take her on so much as a single date! I've filled all her holes - her mouth, her pussy, and her ass - with cum so many times I've lost count. I've covered her tits, her face, and her ass in cum. I've turned her into my personal fucktoy. I am her master. Like I said, I own her, so I don't give a fuck what you want," he sat back and stared at me.

I looked at Anne. The look on her face told me all I needed to know. Everything he said was true. She sat there with a mixture of pain, humiliation, fear, anger, and... was that arousal? Evident on her face. My blood boiled. I briefly thought about getting up, going and getting my sledgehammer or perhaps my reciprocating saw, and teaching this asshole a lesson. I discarded that idea; it wouldn't do anyone any good for me to go to jail.

"Anne, you are to sit there and remain silent. No matter what happens, you are not to get up and move, or say anything, unless I tell you otherwise, is that clear?" I asked firmly.

"Yes, daddy," she said quietly.

I began to speak, lowering my volume and keeping my voice cold and emotionless. "Michael, you just outed some extremely intimate details about my daughter without her consent, to her father of all people. You've betrayed her trust, disrespected her, hurt her, humiliated her, and emotionally abused her. I don't even have to ask her to know that she no longer feels safe or respected with you."

"You have 30 seconds to get out of my house and off my property. Anne will not be going with you. I don't care how you get home; walk, call a cab, call an uber, call a friend. Do not ever set foot on my property again. Do not ever come near my daughter, or attempt to contact her in any way, again. She will not come near you or attempt to contact you again."

"Don't you threaten me, I'll," Michael said, raising his voice.

"You'll what," I interrupted, "You'll kick my ass? I'd love to see you try. I'm not threatening you; I'm giving you a chance to leave before I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing. And I'm warning you that if you ever come near my daughter or contact her again, I will make you pay. I may be out of shape and overweight and old, but I am very VERY resourceful, and determined. I will make you pay and pay dearly."

I leaned forward and said, "Maybe I won't even start with you directly, but with someone close to you, as you've done to me." I stared him directly in the eyes and finished, "That, Michael, is an absolute promise... and I can 100% deliver on that promise."

He looked at me for a moment, as if trying to decide how serious I was. I simply continued to look directly into his eyes, my face completely expressionless save for the murderous look in my eyes. I thought I saw something flash across his face - fear? Surprise? - before he stood up.

"Come on, Anne, let's go. You can start staying at my place, and we'll figure out getting the rest of your stuff later," he barked. Anne didn't move; didn't speak; didn't even look up at him.

"Oh, so that's how it is huh? Fine. Stay here, slut. I hope you enjoy your misery, because you know you can't be happy without being owned, without a Master and Daddy to tell you what to do and punish you and praise you and use you like the dirty whore you are," he sneered.

Before I could react, he turned and stalked out the door, slamming it behind him. I got up and locked the door and watched through the window as he walked down around the corner and up the road out of sight. I sat back down.

"Anne, look at me," I said.

Anne looked up at me. I just looked at her, holding her gaze and reading her expression. The anger was gone. All that was left was embarrassment, fear, and arousal. The arousal was clear as day now. Finally, I spoke.

"First off, you are not to ever contact him again, or go near him again. And if he ever contacts you or comes near you, you are not to respond to him, you leave if he's there physically, and you are to tell me. Second," I sighed, "Tell me what is going on. I just heard a lot of things that I can already tell are true, and it's very concerning. This isn't like you. What is going on in your head?"

Anne replied, "Dad, please. Don't make me."

"Anne, this isn't something you can just not deal with. I can't ignore this. You seem to be engaged in some very unhealthy behavior, and though you are an adult, I'm still your dad and it's still my job to make sure you're ok. Now, I want an explanation."

Anne took a deep breath and then began talking, "You really want to know? Yes, it's all true. Everything he said. I did those things and let him do those things. I was horny and I wanted to get laid, and I didn't care who it was. It's been awhile since I got any. I just wanted sex, and as much of it as I could get. Sleeping with him the first time we met was thrilling, it was naughty. And he just took control, and I liked it. I discovered I liked being submissive, and I liked being told what to do, it turned me on. It felt... good. I could be a slut and not be ashamed because someone was ordering me to do it."

"Being told to suck and fuck my ex, and doing it was arousing because it was wrong and dirty, and I loved it because it was so slutty. Having him use me like that, being tied up and taken however he wanted, made me feel desirable. Letting him take pictures, and him wanting me to take pictures and send him video made me feel pretty and sexy and like I was so desirable that he had to have pictures and video of me when I was away, like he couldn't stand to not look at me when he couldn't touch me. I gave him permission to let other guys use me too, because the idea of having other guys use me like that made me feel even more desirable."

"It made me feel good about myself. The first time he told me to call him Daddy, I nearly came, it was so naughty and hot. And having him cum in me and call me a good girl while he pulled my hair, or called me his fucktoy, or spanked me... got me off better than I've ever gotten off before. There it is. Your daughter is a horny dirty slut that gets off on being controlled, being used, being owned. And now you've sent my owner away and cut me off from him and ordered me not to have any contact with him," Anne finished and sat staring at me. The arousal was still plain on her face.

After a moment to process what I'd just heard come out of my daughter's mouth, I took a deep breath to calm myself and said, "Anne... I think we need to get you into counseling, into therapy. I won't claim to know why you feel or think these things, but I'm afraid that you're feeling like this because your self confidence and self-esteem is lacking; that those things are making you feel like your only worth is in sex and, as you put it, being used. Like you're only lovable and pretty if you're being a slut and letting yourself be used as some guy's fucktoy. The fact that you said it makes you feel good about yourself..."

Anne interrupted me and said, "No, dad, I don't need therapy. I don't want therapy. This is what I am. It makes me feel good, it makes me cum HARD, it's arousing, and I love it. What I NEED is an owner, a Daddy, to use me. And since you stole me away from my previous owner, I think that should be your responsibility unless or until you find me a new one."

I was shocked. "Anne, you can't possibly be saying what I think you're saying!"

She looked me square in the eyes and said, "Yes, Daddy, I am."

"But you're my daughter!" I protested.

"Adopted daughter," she corrected me, "and it's not like you wouldn't get something out of it too. I know you haven't had sex in a long time. We can both get what we need." I could tell from that look that she wouldn't cooperate with therapy, even if I forced it. She was determined.

I looked at my daughter, and I didn't see my little girl. I saw a sexual being, a woman in her prime. She was attractive. She was sexy. She was... HOT. Though she's put on some weight over the years, she's well proportioned. She has very shapely legs that would look amazing in pantyhose or stockings, particularly with heels, though she hasn't worn either since she was younger. These days she opted for pants or the occasional maxi dress.

She has large breasts, and it suddenly occurred to me that she always wears tops that show off a considerable amount of cleavage. I allowed my eyes to wander to that cleavage and felt myself growing hard. Those tits would feel amazing to slide my cock between and fuck. I looked at her legs in her tight pants. Seeing those legs clad in pantyhose again, or even stockings now, would be a treat. I imagined getting a nylon clad foot job from her.

I was getting harder by the second. I wondered briefly if she shaved, waxed, or left herself hairy. I hoped she was smooth, waxed, or at least clean shaven. It would be so much fun and so hot to lick her through a pair of soft, sheer, seamless pantyhose until she came all over my face screaming her head off. Grinding my hard cock against her pussy through seamless pantyhose would be out of this world. I was absolutely throbbing now. I looked back up at her face. Her full lips, currently done up in lipstick, were fixed in a slight pout. Cock sucking lips. I wondered what kind of blowjobs she gives. I wanted to know what her tongue and lips would feel like sliding up and down my shaft.

I had a slight bit of a dominant side as it was, and was into some mild bondage, some mild CNC... though I'd never delved into anything full on 'Master' and using women as nothing but fucktoys, degrading them, or anything pain or torture related, and in this new light I was seeing her... I knew I could enjoy putting aside being her dad and take on being her Daddy. I wasn't 100% convinced though. This could be a ruse to catch me out; to see if I was a dirty perv and use it against me. Maybe to make me let her go back to Michael?

I decided to lob the ball back into her court. "If you really mean that, Anne, and you're not just trying to trick me into making a move so you can tell me you weren't serious and then hold it over me... then you're going to have to prove it."

"How?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said, "you're going to have to figure out on your own something you can do that will prove to me that you're serious and this isn't some test or joke or something, without any input or suggestion from me."

Anne stood up and started removing her clothes. In just a moment, there she stood, completely naked. She was clean shaven, without a hint of stubble. I would lick her, and tongue fuck her, until she begged for mercy. Her tits were even bigger than I thought. Mmm, I'd love to suck and nibble on those.

"How's this for proof?" she asked.

"Not good enough," I said, "you could just be dedicated to the cause. After all, being naked in front of someone isn't that big of a deal. This is a line fathers and daughters aren't supposed to cross, and if we're going to cross it... you're going to have to do something to prove beyond any doubt that it really is what you want."

"So, you're saying I have to cross the line first?" She asked.

"I'm not saying anything about what you have to do, I'm leaving it to you to determine."

Anne walked over to me, hips swaying, and pressed herself up against me. I felt her heat through my clothes, felt her rock-hard nipples pressing into me. She gave me an innocent little girl look with puppy dog eyes and said, "I'm sorry I've been such a naughty girl, Daddy, I'll be good from now on. I promise. Can I suck your cock to make it up to you?" My already throbbing cock twitched at that.

"I won't stop you from doing whatever you think you need to do, Anne." I replied.

Anne wordlessly dropped to her knees, her large tits bouncing as she did so, and pulled down my shorts. She grabbed my cock, gazed at it for a moment, then looked up at me and made eye contact. "Oh Daddy, you're so hard I can feel your pulse just holding your cock, it must hurt so bad. Let me show you how good I can be," she said in her best little girl voice. Then, without breaking eye contact, she leaned forward and licked the underside of my shaft all the way from my balls to the tip. God damn, that felt good.

My own daughter, on her knees naked in front of me, was looking me right in the eyes as she held and licked my cock shaft all over. This was so taboo, so dirty, and so unbelievably hot. I groaned. Anne swirled her tongue around the head of my cock before putting it in her mouth and sucking hard on just the head while continuing to swirl her tongue around. After a moment, she slid her mouth down my shaft and started bobbing up and down, still looking up at me and keeping eye contact as much as she could.