My Father's Aid Ch. 02

Author's note: This story might not be for everyone. It is about a young woman "giving" her friends to her father, a mind controller. Everyone gradually gets more and more corrupted. Themes include voyeurism, gender traitor/cuckqueening, MDom/FSub sex, and abuse of power.

Mind the tags and play safe!

* * *

The day I realized my father was using his tech skills to brainwash women was about a two years after the graduation party where I'd found him fucking Samantha Perry, a girl he'd suggested I befriend.

Looking back, of course, it's obvious he wanted us to be friends because she was a knockout and turned eighteen before most of the class. Hindsight is 20/20, I guess.

My father may have always been a bit of a dork, but I don't think it's overstating things to say he's also a tech genius. He started his first company before he graduated high school, sold it and a couple patents at seventeen, and was a millionaire before he started college. By the time he graduated (three semesters early) he was a bigger deal than most countries.

It was spring break of my sophomore year of college when I got a better idea of what he could do. I had suggested a girls "staycation," and to my then-surprise, he'd had no objections to a dozen college girls camping out by his pool for a week.

One of the first to arrive was a beautiful brunette named Sandy. I met her at the gym when she was getting ready for soccer tryouts. Her workout gear was modest, I remembered. She was there to have a serious workout, not to show off her body like some girls, but still - it was impossible not to notice her.

She had a body women would kill for. Long legs, an ass that looked like it was chiseled from marble, and even a loose T-shirt couldn't hide she had a world-class pair... she was just the kind of beauty my father deserved to have at his beck and call.

My father greeted her at the door, handing her a box with a new phone and matching headphones as they shook hands.

"Hello and welcome!" he said. "I have a gift for everyone."

"Oh my god! Is this the new...?" Sandy had asked, turning over the box in her hands.

"Version seven, indeed."

"I thought it didn't release until next year?" she'd asked.

Sandy had shown up ready for the pool. Her red bikini top showed through the stretched material of her thin white V-neck, and her jean miniskirt sat low enough on her hips to allow a teasing glimpse of the matching suit bottom.

My father gulped, trying not to make it too obvious he was stunned by her. "Well, any friend of my daughter's is a friend of mine, and I have a few connections in the industry. Welcome to the family."

Sandy smiled in gratitude.

"Just set your old phone next to this one for about five minutes and it'll be fully cloned," he instructed. "And you'll have a few new features as well."

That was understating it.

If Sandy or anyone else had known what was waiting on those phones for them, they'd have had my father behind bars before the day was out.

One after another, the other girls I'd befriended arrived and were greeted at the door by my father. Each received an identical new phone and headphones, ready to replace their old devices and take up permanent residence by their sides and in their brains.

Each woman was more stunning than the last. They were cheerleaders, swimmers, track stars. They had internships with senators and regularly made the dean's list. They were the cream of the crop and had bright futures ahead of them. I almost felt a twinge of guilt as I considered what they could have been if my father hadn't come into their lives; if I hadn't chosen them.

If I hadn't given them to him.

Just writing that, now, sends a shiver down my spine.

I caught up with my father in the kitchen after everyone had arrived. He was ostensibly loading a platter to start up the grill, but I could see he was sparing plenty of time to gaze out at my friends enjoying the poolside. Several were taking turns putting sunscreen on each other's backs, and Sandy was disrobing. I watched my father's eyes as he watched her peel her tight shirt over her head and then shimmied out of her skirt.

"See anything interesting, dad?" I asked.

"Hmmm?"

He was suddenly quite busy arranging the bratwurst, burgers, and vegetables on the platter. He seemed embarrassed.

"The meats, dad."

"Just finishing getting everything ready to go," he said. "The grill should be about warmed up by now."

I stepped in front of him as he started heading back out to the group. He paused, the tray in his hands, looking at me curiously.

"While we have a second here, I just wanted to say thanks for letting everyone stay over, Daddy."

I stepped up to him and wrapped him in a big hug, resting my head on his chest.

"Really," I said after a moment. "I appreciate you letting everyone stay over for a few days. I hope we don't all get too underfoot. And I'll make sure they know your office is off limits."

He carefully set down the platter and hugged me back. We paused for a moment, just feeling each other breathe.

He kissed me on the top of my head.

"Anything for you, kiddo," he said.

I knew he meant it, too. My father would do anything for me. I had once called him when I was feeling sick and asked him to come home, and he'd been there in a flash. It was only later I learned he'd been about to sign a business deal worth millions - he'd walked away to get home to me an hour sooner.

My father was my world, and I was his.

The quiet moment was broken as we heard footsteps approaching.

"Hey, hope I'm not interrupting," Sandy called out. "I was just going to grab a drink, if that's ok?"

We broke the hug and my father gestured at the fridge.

"Of course! Help yourself to anything you want - mi casa es su casa," he said warmly.

I have to give my father credit for being able to make a coherent sentence, even if he had to stare at the platter instead of at Sandy. She had jumped in the pool while we'd been speaking and a thin sheen of water coated her tanned skin and dripped enticingly through the valley of her breasts. Her shoulder length brown hair framed her model-like face perfectly.

"Thanks, Mr. Fenson!"

"Is your new phone working for you?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was super easy to set up. Thanks so much - I owe you big time," Sandy gushed. "I think everyone has it set up now, and it's fun looking at the new features."

"Glad to hear it," he said, then turned to me. "I should go to my office for a moment; would you mind starting the grill?"

"In just a second, sure - I should get into my suit first," I said.

"I can take that out for you," Sandy offered.

He passed her the grill platter. Sandy took it with a smile and made her way back out to the pool. My father and I both walked from the kitchen down the hallway, he to his office and me to my room.

This was one of the most important moments of my life and it happened by total chance. Sometimes I'll think back on it and think of all the things that could have happened differently, and how drastically my life would have been changed.

If I had already been in my swimsuit or if my father hadn't needed to go to his office... if Sandy hadn't offered to take the grill platter out or if it had been rainy that day...

So little had to go differently, and I'd have never learned my father's secret.

So many What Ifs.

The big moment happened by chance. Just a couple minutes after we left the kitchen, as I finished changing and my father worked in his office, we suddenly heard the girls' splashing and laughing turn to shrieking. Melanie had taken a few steps running startup for a cannonball, slipped, and slammed her head on the side of the pool.

I ran out of my room to see my father dashing out of his office in front of me. He yanked his office door shut behind him and sprinted toward the shouts. But in his haste, he didn't take the time to lock the door behind him.

His office door - normally so carefully kept closed and locked - was open.

I will never betray my father's trust.

It had been etched into my soul since I was ten. I had fallen asleep repeating it to myself more times than I could count. Surely, going into his office would be a betrayal of his trust?

I knew I wasn't allowed in the room - locked or not.

My father's happiness is my highest priority.

But what if there was something important in the office? What if he'd knocked over a candle on his way out, something like that? How happy might he be if I saved the place from a fire?

I will never betray my father's trust.

I knew he wouldn't want me going in. I knew "you were busy with an emergency" wouldn't be a reasonable excuse.

My father's happiness is my highest priority.

But what if I could make him happy by going in? At the very least I could go in to see if I could lock it for him, couldn't I?

I stopped in the hall, frozen, as my father ran outside to help Melanie. The permutations ran through my mind as I struggled to decide what to do. The competing directives chased circles in my head.

Highest priority.

That meant it was more important than not betraying his trust.

Right?

With a shaky hand, I pushed the door open and slowly crept into my father's sanctum sanctorum. In my twenty years on this green earth I had never once set foot in the room before.

It looked like a pretty normal study. Books on the shelves, a desk, a couch, and a coffee table. Some art on the walls.

His shades were drawn, which meant the two monitors cast a light across the large mahogany desk.

Which meant his computer was on.

Which meant he had been working on the computer.

I ran it over in my head again. My father had been in the kitchen and ogling the girls outside by the pool. Sandy had mentioned they all had their new phones set up. Then he had come to his study to do something on his computer.

Whatever he'd been doing on the computer was more important than spending time with all my bikini-clad friends.

I hurried to the seat and took a look at what he had been working on.

The monitor on the left had a split screen - an article on dating advice, and a live stream from the security camera of the pool. I could see he had arrived at the pool, dove in, and was getting Melanie to safety.

The screen in front of me - the main screen - had a program open I hadn't heard of before. It looked like it was called Alex's Aid. It was currently open to a list of names. Melanie, Amber, Sophie, Sandy... All the girls I had invited to stay with us for the week.

Clicking any name opened a new window. There was a text box under the header "Signal Input" and he'd been in the middle of typing.

I like Alex Fenson.

I want Alex Fenson to like m

The cursor blinked at the end, mid-word. He'd been updating it when he'd run out of the room.

On the security feed, I saw Melanie was sitting up. She seemed ok - probably just a nosebleed, more alarming than serious. Someone was pressing a drink into her hand, and the rest of the crowd was relaxing. My father could be back at any minute.

But I still didn't know what I was looking at. I needed more time. Working quickly, I opened his email, attached a copy of the root folder of the Alex's Aid program, and sent it to myself. As soon as it was sent I deleted the email from his end, then ran back to my room.

I shut the door just as I heard my father's footsteps come around the corner and begin down the hallway. They stopped in front of his office door and I could almost see the expression on his face as he realized he hadn't locked the door behind him.

"Sarah?"

I instinctively opened my mouth to reply but stopped myself. The old thought rang in my head again like a blacksmith's hammer hitting an anvil: My father's happiness is my highest priority.

I was so confused. Some instinct told me I could make him happier by keeping what I'd found to myself. I didn't even know what I'd found, yet. How happy would he be if he found out I'd broken into his office?

"Sarah?" he called again.

Enough time had gone by. I stepped out and tried to not think about the email waiting for me.

"Yes, Daddy?" I asked.

Did he know I'd been in his office?

What would he do if he knew I'd been on his computer?

"Come on - you should be out there with your friends. I just have to finish something quick and I'll come join you."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sounds good, Daddy. Just so long as you don't come out in socks and sandals!" I joked, hoping to cover my nervousness.

I could still feel the two phrases repeating themselves again and again, bouncing around the inside of my skull. My father's happiness is my highest priority and I will never betray my father's trust were competing. "Never" vs "highest priority" might as well have been "immovable object" vs "unstoppable force."

The girls, meanwhile, enjoyed the day by the pool. My friends played with their new phones and glued the new headphones to their heads while they tanned and my father worked the grill. I went through the motions but was glad my father was distracted - I knew he'd be able to tell I was out of sorts if we'd been alone.

I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen. What did it mean? Why did he have so many names of my old acquaintances in some computer program? Should I tell him I went into his office? "Alex's Aid" - like my father, Alex? Had he programmed this himself?

The rest of the day couldn't pass fast enough.

* * *

As soon as I felt I could be believed I left the group, pretending to be tired.

"I think I'm just going to call it a night," I said after dinner as the rest of the group began arguing about board games. "You all have fun!"

"You'll miss all the games!" they protested.

"We have a week - we can have another game night!" I promised over my shoulder, not stopping as I headed toward my room.

"Don't leave me alone, Sarah!" my father protested with what almost sounded like genuine concern.

I put my hands on my hips and adopted a mock-serious tone.

"Girls, you play nice with my father now, ok?"

"Yes, Mom," they said in unison.

I left the cackling laughter behind and began down the hallway. My father caught up to me as I got to my room door and wrapped me up in a hug from behind.

"Actually, I think you have the right idea, baby. I'm going to call it a day, too," he said.

I was a little surprised he wasn't taking the opportunity to join in the board games but didn't have time to think about it. I shut my door behind me and locked it, then booted up my computer and nervously opened my email. I had to learn more about what my father had been up to.

Now that I had more time I could really settle in and dig deeper into what I was looking at. I went to install the program on my computer but got a popup: "Program Alex's Aid Already Installed," it read. "Open Existing Copy?"

"That's weird," I thought. "Why is this already installed on my computer? I didn't install that."

It didn't matter. That was a question for another day. Right then, I had bigger fish to fry.

I clicked "Yes" and in a moment the now-familiar screen popped up. There were two folders that caught my eye, labeled Current Projects, and Past Projects. Past Projects had a bunch of names I recognized: several of my former teachers, the mothers of some of my teammates from the soccer team, our favorite barista from a coffee shop we used to frequent. There were a dozen names in the Current Projects folder, and I recognized every one - it was all the friends I'd invited to this pool party.

"To understand the present, look to the past," I remembered my father saying once when I was struggling with my history studying. No matter how busy he'd been with his company, he'd always made time to help me with my homework.

I went as far back as I could - the first entry I could find was for an aide at my kindergarten, Mrs. Perkins. The date by her name would have been when I was about five or so, or about three years after my parents divorced. I hadn't thought of her in more than a decade, but I remembered her now.

She had been a young teacher, just graduated and only married for a year-ish. When I was in kindergarten I thought all adults were the same age, of course, but in retrospect I'd guess she was about twenty-four or so. She had frizzy red hair and a smile that lit up a room. I remembered her always being one of my favorites, and how she had always been happy to see me, too. She'd even been willing to walk me home several times. A lot of times she'd even come in to make sure I got settled in ok, and then start feeling tired, so she and my father would go take a nap. Once I had walked in on them wrestling, and-

I sat and blinked at my computer screen as I suddenly understood.

Looking at her file, there was also a note that read: subliminals broadcast from pasta house.

"Pasta house"? What the hell?

It came back to me - we'd built a house out of pasta for some project, held up by popsicle sticks and a truly absurd amount of glue. I could still remember my father helping me build mine; it had eventually devolved into chasing each other around the kitchen island with glue sticks and shrieking with laughter.

Mrs. Perkins had been so happy with mine she had kept it on her desk after the assignment. Or rather, as I now realized the truth of the matter was: my father had made sure my craft project was so good that the teacher would keep it so that he could broadcast his messages directly into her brain, all day, every day. Hours and hours, rewriting her to his whims.

I looked at the signals he'd input:

Sarah Fenson is my favorite student.

I will look after Sarah Fenson.

I want Sarah Fenson to be happy.

I will always go the extra mile for Sarah Fenson.

That was cute, I supposed. Then the signals took a turn:

Alex Fenson is God. If I disobey anything he says, I will die.

"Jesus Christ, Dad," I thought. "That's a little aggressive, no?"

I closed the window and scrolled around a bit, then checked on another past teacher - Mrs. Daniels, who taught me tenth grade chemistry. The beginning four prompts were the same, but it wasn't a full copy-paste; the last prompt was gone. Thankfully. It had been replaced with a couple of slightly less over-the-top instructions:

Alex Fenson is the only person in the world I am attracted to.

I will divorce my husband.

Fucking Alex Fenson is the only thing I care about.

That was... marginally less aggressive. Marginally.

Suddenly, a new screen popped up. "New user login," it started. I didn't take the time to finish reading it. My powerstrip hung along the side of my desk, and in a panic, I just reached over and slammed the off switch.

My room went dark. The only noise was the computer fan as it slowly slid to a halt. My breath caught in my throat. If I could see my father had logged on, would he have been able to see I was logged on too? Had he noticed before I hit my power switch?

I crept to my bed in the dark. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. I was sure my father would come knocking on the door at any moment. But I couldn't sleep.

It took me a moment to realize why.

I bit my knuckles to stop from crying out when the realization hit.

I was turned on.

I was horrified with myself, but I couldn't shake it. The idea of my father sneaking a subliminal mind control device into my kindergarten school project just so he could fuck my married teacher... fuck.

It was so devious, depraved, twisted... taboo.

I wondered if he ever took her in the classroom. Maybe some day after class he had gone to the room where his daughter learned her ABCs and turned the married teacher into his whore.

Almost without realizing what I was doing, I began to gently caress my breasts.

With his tech, he could have made my teachers do anything he wanted. I imagined his smile as Mrs. Perkins put her hair up and got on her knees for him. She'd suck his dick for him in the classroom, wouldn't she?

Of course she would.

He could make her do anything.

I slid one hand slowly down my stomach and pushed it into my panties.

My father could have made prim and proper Mrs Perkins into a slut for him. I imagined him pushing her to her knees while I waited in the car outside.

"Not here, please!" she might have begged.

But when my father made a decision, it stood. He was fair, but firm. If he began pushing Mrs. Perkins to her knees in the classroom while the other parents were still picking up their children outside, it would be because he was going to cum in her mouth.

I began to put pressure on my clit, first gently, then harder.

"At least let me lock the door! Someone might come in," I could imagine Mrs. Perkins saying as she gave in and fell to her knees before my father.

But as her hands reached for his belt and she felt the powerful cock raging to get out, get free, like a caged lion... she'd have known it was no use.

I squeezed my breast and gasped.

She'd have understood that a man like my father didn't care if someone came in, if her reputation was ruined. His drive and unwavering sense of purpose was one of the most attractive things about him - even when that drive and sense of purpose was dead set on getting his shaft between your lips.

My father probably let her take the lead, at first, setting her own pace as she worked to please the powerful man's shaft. She'd look up at him with her lips stretched, her tongue working the underside. She'd be hoping she was pleasing him.

But a man like my father had many notches on his bedpost. I was sure he wouldn't be the type to cum in a hurry, or from anything less than the best fellatio.

I imagined beautiful, married Mrs. Perkins' concern shifted from whether she'd lose her job or what her husband might think to whether she was a good enough cocksucker.

Eventually he would reach down and take control. I bit my lip and rubbed my clit faster as I imagined him threading his powerful fingers through Mrs. Perkins' hair until he had a firm grip on her skull.

Then he'd begin to pull her onto his cock.

He was strong, I knew. He could have easily pulled her toward him, making her wet lips part wider and wider around his invading member. And as he towered over young Mrs. Perkins... all his political connections, all his wealth, all his power... she wouldn't have dared to resist even if she'd wanted to.

She wouldn't want to resist, of course. Even before the brainwashing. Surely she knew what a catch my father was and that this moment was a highlight of her life. But if she knew what was good for her, I knew she'd have relaxed and let him fuck her face to his heart's content.

I imagined him being gentle. My father was always a caring, quiet man. Slowly, mindful of Mrs. Perkins' breathing, I pictured my father moving his hips a few inches at a time to slowly coat the first few inches of his cock in the teachers' saliva.

I groaned in frustration - I was getting more aroused, but somehow not any closer to cumming.

It wasn't enough. I needed more.

I imagined him pushing forward until Mrs. Perkins bucked as his cockhead hit her throat. He let her have a quick breather but would soon return, forcing the mushroom head past her tonsils.

I imagined him picking up the pace. His hips would be a blur as he used her face for his own selfish pleasure, not caring if he bruised her lips.

"Mmpphh!" she might have tried to protest with her nose mushed to the side against his abdomen.

Maybe she'd have tried to pull away, or put her hands on his hips to push him back.

Maybe she hadn't yet realized that my father could-

No.

Maybe she hadn't yet realized that my father should, have anything he wanted. Including her.

Maybe she hadn't yet made peace with the fact that he was above her, in every sense. He deserved to be worshipped. Being selected to do the worshipping was the greatest honor of her life.

She should have been begging for the opportunity to trade her husband, her reputation, or her job for the chance to taste his cum.

"Fucking take it, whore," he whispered in my head as he slapped away her feeble attempts to stop him getting what he wanted. "Give me your throat."

I came.

It was so fucked up.

A small voice in the back of my head It wasn't enough I'd gotten turned on reading about my father implanting irresistible subliminal messages in women's heads? It wasn't enough I came while imagining my father fucking my old kindergarten teacher's mouth, making her please him in the classroom with the voices of other parents just outside... Really? I had to cum to the thought of him forcing his way into her throat?

I drifted to sleep trying to ignore the small voice in the back of my head that told me I hadn't cum that hard in years.

* * *

My father's happiness is my highest priority.

I will never betray my father's trust.

My father's happiness is my highest priority.

I will never betray my father's trust.

My father's happiness is my highest priority.

I will never betray my father's trust.

I woke up the next morning with the mantras circling each other around and around. It still felt like they were deadlocked, and the night's sleep hadn't helped me make any decisions. My computer dinged as I finished dressing.

"Update Complete," read a popup, "New Subliminals Loaded." With a few clicks I was able to find the latest subliminals pushed to the girls' devices. The new updates read:

I find Alex Fenson attractive.

I want to flirt with Alex Fenson.

The old inputs were still there:

I like Alex Fenson.

I want Alex Fenson to like me.

Interesting. This was much tamer than what I'd read the night before, on my past teachers. The older subliminals had been like a sledgehammer to their target's brains; these were more like a gentle nudge. They were... surgical? That wasn't quite the right word.

Refined?

Delicate?

I was still mulling it all over as I emerged from my room to find most of the others were already up. Several of my friends were playing on their phones or listening to their headphones. I could see Melanie was playing with the new features of her phone, focused on the screen with rapt attention. Outside by the pool, Sandy was doing her morning yoga. Amber and Sophie helped my father in the kitchen.

One of the things I love about my father is that he isn't just one dimensional. He was a tech genius and a powerhouse in the business boardroom, of course, but he was also an excellent cook. We had a maid that came once a week, he had a driver... but we'd never had a chef. He enjoyed doing all the cooking himself and had prepared most of my meals for as long as I could remember.

So the idea he needed help in the kitchen was a bit of a joke. He'd chased me out of the kitchen more times than I could count. Nonetheless, he seemed happy enough to accept the help of Amber and Sophie as they chopped veggies.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he called out with a smile. "Breakfast omelettes will be ready soon. You want bacon or sausage?"

Amber and Sophie were on the swim team in High School together, and had both received scholarships to be a part of the swim team at college. They came to my attention when Sandy and I had gone to watch a competition at some point. I'd left for the bathroom between races and taken a wrong turn, and found myself outside the men's locker room door. I was about to turn around and try again when I heard voices echoing outward from inside.

"How was last night, Nate?" someone asked.

"I struck out again. You see that chick Amber though?"

"She's the one that just won the 500, right?" someone else interrupted. "Jesus, she's fucking hot."

"Yeah, that's her. She's gotta be the hottest on the team, right? Leaves our girls behind."

Several voices called out in agreement.

"I've never seen someone make a one-piece look so good."

"Those lips, man! What I wouldn't do-"

"I would cut my balls off for a night with her."

"What about that other one, though? Her friend?"

"Shit, yeah. She's maybe even better."

"Why can't we have chicks like that at our school? Either one of them is hotter than our whole college, I swear to god."

"What, like you'd have a chance with them anyway. With your scrawny ass!"

"They're out of any of our leagues, honestly."

Hearing these voices discuss the women so far out of their leagues... I knew what I had to do. After making my way back to my seat, I turned to Sandy.

"You wanted to come because you knew a couple people on the team, right?" I asked her. "Do you think they'd want to get food after this? I'm starting to get hungry."

"Yeah, sure - I'll text them and we can introduce you! Maybe the whole team will want to come out."

It didn't take long to figure out which swimmers were the bombshells the men's team had been fawning over, and not long after that, I had befriended them.

I smiled.

Those jocks on the swim team probably had no problem getting girls, normally. They were probably tall, with swimmer's bodies, popular... and they hadn't even bothered hitting on these girls.

And now here the girls were. In my father's kitchen. Doing his bidding.

My father had won. He should be a conqueror, adored and feared and loved and hated. Other men should be bugs before him.

His voice dragged me back to the present moment.

"Sleepyhead? Sausage or bacon?" he asked again.

"Good morning, Daddy!" I called back. "I'll go with bacon."

He directed Amber toward the bacon in the fridge, while Sophie chopped vegetables.

"Thanks for your help this morning, ladies," he said.

"Oh, no problem, Mr. Fenson," Sophie smiled. "This is such a nice kitchen, I'm happy to help out."

"Yeah, we're definitely just here for the great kitchen, not the company at all," joked Amber.

She and my father were standing side by side, facing the stove. I watched her lean towards him a bit and give him a gentle poke with her elbow.

"Oh! Ack! I'm under attack, whatever will I..." he trailed off as he gave an exaggerated spin and suddenly faced out to the poolside.

I followed his gaze. Sandy had caught his eye as she stretched and posed in the morning light. I couldn't blame him. Dressed in skin-tight yoga pants and a form-fitting sports bra that left her entire midriff exposed, it seemed each pose was more suggestive than the last.

The new headphones rested over her ears, pumping the new subliminals under whatever music she had chosen.

She was on her knees, ("Where she belongs," I thought) and as we watched she slowly drew her hands up her body, past the glorious curves of her chest, and adjusted her hair for a moment. A few lucky beads of sweat slowly slid out of sight down her cleavage.

And what cleavage it was. Her breasts were immaculate. She would have been right at home flaunting her stuff on a runway as the face of the biggest lingerie brands, or ushering a generation into puberty on the silver screen. She could have started wars.

There was no better place for her to be than in my father's apartment.

Sandy bowed forward until her forehead rested on the ground and stretched her arms forward, her knees still underneath her. I drifted off as I imagined those hands gripping sheets as my father thrust himself into her from behind, her face buried in a pillow to quiet her cries for more as she came and came.

"Please! Please don't stop!" she cried out into the pillow in my daydream.

"You like it like this?" my father asked her rhetorically as he drove into her dripping cunt again and again. "Getting fucked from behind until you can't see straight?"

"Oh g-god, yes!"

His powerful hands gripped her hips. He held her in place as he towered over her. He owned her. Her mind, her soul, her body - they all belonged to him as he fucked her. She couldn't have imagined the fireworks he'd set off in her body; my father was making her feel things she hadn't known were possible. My father reached forward and grabbed her hair and pulled back, lifting her head and arching her back. Her body glistened with sweat as my father worked her over.

"I didn't hear you, slut. Do you like it like this? You ever been fucked like this before?"

She could only moan submissively as she came again, helpless under my father's onslaught. He kept driving into her, filling the room with the steady SLAP-SLAP-SLAP as his hips connected with the firm globes of her ass. This was the quintessential world order, as it should be. Millions and millions of years of evolution had led to this - the perfect woman, the one percent of the one percent, subservient to my father. Her soft flesh yielding on demand to my father's hard, driving cock.

So many workouts, so much time spent working on her figure... it had all been worth it so she could be here. So she could be owned by my father's cock. So she could be the perfect specimen to please him, the perfect vessel to receive his cum.

"Take me, sir!" she begged. "Make me yours."

Every thrust dragged the head of his long cock over her G-spot before pushing deeper than she'd ever felt before. Her juicy pussy clamped down on his cock, squeezing even tighter as he-

My daydreaming was cut back with a sudden realization. The new subliminals had only just been pushed. I wasn't sure exactly how long they took to take effect, but I knew they worked by being broadcast on repeat for days or weeks, not minutes. They wouldn't have had time to work yet. Especially not on Amber and Sophie because they were in the kitchen, not playing with their phones or listening to their headphones.

Right now the two of them were helping my father in the kitchen under just the old instructions: I like Alex Fenson and I want Alex Fenson to like me. I swallowed.

It was going to be interesting to see how things developed.

* * *

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