by Katie Ayres
At Daddy’s Service
by
Katie Ayres
Copyright 2013 Katie Ayres
All rights reserved.
This book is for sale to an ADULT AUDIENCE ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language between characters 18 and older which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re–sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All sex acts depicted occur between characters 18 years or older who are not blood relatives.
Blurb: Dennis Denton is a high–powered lobbyist in Washington, D.C. who owes his success to his beautiful wife, a cock–sucker extraordinaire, and a great lay to boot. But there’s an important deal in the making and Mrs. Denton won’t be in the city to provide her usual services. It’s up to their gorgeous, adoptive daughter, Alana, to help her Daddy and she’s thrilled to do it if it means she’ll finally get a taste of her Daddy’s long, hard cock.
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At Daddy’s Service
My mom is a chemical engineer and works for a huge global firm which means she’s sometimes away for weeks at a time on assignment to some country in the middle of nowhere, like Russia or Czechoslovakia. That means I spend a lot of time with my daddy because he hardly takes trips. He’s a lobbyist here in D.C. and has to put in a lot of face–time, as he puts it, with the politicos and, of course, he has to be in town when his firm’s clients fly here for important dinners or whatever.
I should probably explain here that Daddy isn’t really my daddy and Mommy isn’t my real mommy, either. I’m adopted. I joined their family when I was ten, just a year after my real parents both abandoned me. They left me on my biological grandmother’s doorstep and dropped off the grid. Six months later I got a card from them saying they were sorry but they’d gone to find themselves in Belize which is a country in Central America where the people speak English. Who knew? Anyway, they said they weren’t coming back, so Grandma called Social Services and put me in the system because she said she was too old to take care of me. Obviously, I’d have preferred to be with blood relatives but I was adopted pretty quickly and Mommy and Daddy are the best. They’ve always treated me like a little princess and made sure I have the absolute best of everything, so I guess I’ve been really lucky in a way.
Mommy is this former Miss Virginia who still looks hot at her age and Daddy’s got these craggy features that make him look like that guy in one of those James Bond films. His eyes are blue and clear like the sky on a sunny day. Lately, I’d been getting all shivery when he looked at me, kinda like the way I got when I was thirteen and got my first major crush, though with Daddy the feeling was multiplied like a gazillion times. I guess Mom noticed the effect he was having on me and that’s how she came up with the idea that I should take her place as hostess at the private dinners Daddy sometimes hosts when he wants to up the ante, when there’s a lot at stake and he wants to make sure his clients can count on certain votes on Capitol Hill.
At first, when Mom and Dad told me about it, I was so shocked I’d just stared at them. I couldn’t speak for a full two minutes. But, even though I was speechless, shivers of heat flooded my body and my pussy got instantly wet. I might not have known what to say but my pussy definitely knew what it wanted. This was how it happened.
“Alana!” Mom pounded on the door to my bedroom.
“What?” I asked, flinging it open.
Mom grimaced. “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I’ve been calling from downstairs for a while now. You need to turn that noise down. Just because you’re eighteen doesn’t mean you can act as you want.”
I rolled my eyes. It was Sunday afternoon and I’d just finished doing my nails. Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black pumped into the hallway from my speakers.
“Dennis and I need to speak with you.”
Immediately, I was on guard. Mom usually called him ‘Dad’ or ‘Daddy’ when she was speaking about him to me, that was the first thing. The second was that things had been strangely tense between Mom and Dad for the last four or five weeks. I’d heard the muffled arguments in their room and there’d been a few slammed doors, too. I’d figured it might have something do with the fact that Mom was leaving on another trip yet again and wouldn’t be here for Daddy’s birthday three weeks away. That sucked, but at least she’d been around for my 18th last month.
I followed her downstairs, my heart in my mouth. Please don’t let them be divorcing, I prayed. I loved them both and didn’t want to think they might be splitting apart. Of course, if I got to choose I’d stay with Daddy and that would be pretty nice, but I’d still miss Mom.
“Hey, baby.” Daddy smiled at me as I entered our spacious family room where he was sitting on the sectional. “Why the long face?” A glass beside him was almost empty. Daddy liked his after–dinner cognac. I felt I could use a stiff drink, too, particularly if they were going to tell me what I thought they were going to tell me.
I curled up on the armchair facing him without answering. Mom went and sat beside Daddy. She slipped her arm around his neck which made me feel a bit more hopeful. Maybe they weren’t divorcing after all. Maybe this was about my decision to take a year off before going to university.
“Alana.” My mother cleared her throat and looked uncertain for a minute. “You know I’m going away in the morning for about three months, right?”
I nodded. Of course I knew. She’d been packed since yesterday and her bags were waiting by the door because that was how organized she was.
“Well, tomorrow, your dad has a very important dinner with one of the Senate’s most senior congressmen.” She stopped and peered at me.
I stared back, wondering where this was going. I didn’t understand why she was telling me this. It wasn’t news. I already knew that every now and then Dad hosts small, very important, dinners to try to get politicians and top government bureaucrats to see things the way his clients in the petroleum industry want them to be seen. That wasn’t a secret. He and Mom would dress up to the nines and sweep out of the house, looking and smelling like a million dollars. But I’d know it wasn’t an ordinary cocktail or dinner party they were going to because Mom always came out of the bedroom wearing a coat even in summer. I hadn’t caught on that she was deliberately trying to hide what she was wearing until one day when I was sixteen and I’d passed at the same moment as Daddy came out the door. He’d closed it back quickly when she yelled at him but I’d already seen the strappy, cleavage–bearing, dress she was wearing. I have no idea who designed that dress but I knew for sure it wasn’t the same person who designed the kinds of outfits she wore to Presidential Inaugurations, for example.
A few days after that when I was home alone I checked out her closet and found a whole section of wildly revealing dresses with thigh–high slits or necklines that plunged down to her navel in the front or down to the top of her butt–crack in the back. Since I’d never seen her in them, I figured those were the dresses she was wearing when she emerged from her
room in a coat. I’d snapped photos with my iPod and, the next time she came out in a coat, I waited about ten minutes after the front door had closed before going into their room. I checked the dresses that were still there against my photos. A shimmery purple number with a deep cowl–neck and one of the high slits was missing. Busted! The dresses she wore to regular events were fabulous but the ones she wore to the special dinners were straight up trampy. Of course, I’d never said anything to reveal my discovery.
“Since I’m not going to be here, I’d like you to go with Dennis instead.”
I dragged my thoughts back to the present and blinked at her. That was it? That was the big announcement?
“Okay, sure.” I jumped to my feet. “No problem.”
Daddy looked at me intently. “Your mother’s not finished.”
I sank back down and the pleated skirt I was wearing flew up high on my thighs. Daddy’s gaze dropped down to my legs and stayed there which sent a wave of heat throbbing through me. If I moved just a little I could give him a good view of my satin–covered crotch but Mom was giving me a hard look. I pulled my skirt back down.
“Pay attention, Alana. It’s not just any old dinner.”
I sighed. I might not be an Honor Roll student but I’d already figured that much out. “I know, Mom. I get it. Daddy needs to make a good impression.”
“Not just, Daddy. You, too. You, most of all.”
I frowned. She’d lost me there. Why would any of those stuffy people care about me? Or, about what kind of impression I made? Was she going to tell me I’d have to wear one of those slutty dresses? We were both petite women but she was way curvier than me. Her boobs had to be at least a D cup. I shivered at the thought of Daddy seeing me in anything as sexy as one of those dresses.
“Have you ever wondered why I go along to those dinners Daddy’s having with people he needs to impress and influence? No? Well, there’s no reason why you should have but I’m going to tell you why now.”
I glanced at Daddy who was still staring at me with that peculiar expression on his face. I gave him a half–smile to lighten things up and he grinned but something flickered in his eyes.
“I go with Daddy so I can look after whoever it is he’s dining and wining.” She gave me a significant look like that was supposed to clue me in completely, but I honestly had no idea what she was talking about. My expression must have given that away because she began to look annoyed. “I service them,” she said.
This blew my mind. “You mean the restaurants let you be Daddy’s waitress for the night?”
Daddy burst out laughing and Mom looked at me in dismay. “Sweetheart, let me be very clear and blunt, haven’t you noticed that after those dinners I come back to the house way after Daddy, sometimes early in the morning?”
I shook my head. I totally saw why the Ancient Greeks had worshipped Morpheus, the god of sleep and dreams. I’d have worshipped him, too, if I could. I loved falling asleep because I had the most wonderful erotic dreams. Of course, in my dreams, Morpheus usually looked just like Daddy. I squirmed and felt my cheeks warm as my pussy reminded me of just how good those dreams were. I gave myself up to them every night and then fingered my clit to a shattering orgasm in a blissful, half–awake haze every morning. I rarely got out of bed before seven thirty.
“It’s because I stay behind to have sex with whoever we dined with.”
My eyes snapped open and flew to Daddy’s face. Was she serious? That had to be some kind of freaky joke.
Daddy grinned again. “It’s true, darling. Without Natalie’s help I wouldn’t be half as successful as I am in persuading those congressmen.” He winked at Mom. “And congresswomen, to vote the way Big Oil wants them to.”
“You sleep with them? Mom!” I couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d suddenly turned into Justin Bieber before my very eyes. And, honestly, I didn’t know what I felt about this. It was wrong, it had to be wrong but Daddy seemed on board with it. And then it hit me, what she was asking me to do. “You…you want me to have sex with them? Is that––. Mom, is that what you’re saying?” Never in a million years would I have imagined the conversation we were having. Never in all my years of Morpheus–worship had I ever dreamed of anything half so wild.
“Don’t act so innocent, Alana,” Mom snapped. “Do you really think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been looking at Dennis for a while now? And, you might as well know, I check your internet history regularly. I’ve seen all those porn sites you visit.”
“Mom!” My cheeks flamed. I felt totally mortified, thinking especially of the hentai sites I love. How could she! “That’s an invasion of my privacy,” I said, trying to work up some indignation but really feeling too embarrassed for words. Why, oh, why hadn’t I made it a habit to delete my history cache after each surfing session?
“I’ve also read your diary.” She smiled slyly.
“Mom!”
“So, you see, I know the feelings you’ve developed for your Daddy and about the things you want to do with him and it’s fine with me.”
“Mom!” OMG! I didn’t know what to say or where to look. Had she told Dad? “I didn’t really mean them,” I said, frantic with worry, determined to make her believe me. “I…it was just something I wrote…like creative fiction kinda…” My voice trailed off.
Mom leaned forward and pulled out a slim, red, leather–covered book from the cushion behind her. My diary! OMG! I usually wrote in it right before going to bed and I kept it in one of the bottom drawers in my closet, though, sometimes just to change things up, I’d hide it under my bed or behind my shoes.
She flipped it open and began to read as I stared at her in shock.
“January, 18th, 2013.”
My birthday! “No, Mom.” I leaped at her and tried to wrest it away but Daddy caught me, pulled me into his lap and wrapped an arm around my arms to hold me still.
“Mom! Mom, please, please don’t. Please.”
She ignored me. “My 18th birthday was everything I wanted it to be. My party was the bomb and all my best friends were there, blah, blah, blah. Now, here’s where it gets interesting.” She winked at me and I tried again to snatch the book away from her but Daddy was holding me too tight for me to do anything more than flail uselessly at her. “Of course, I’d have liked Daddy to have given me something even better than the Cartier watch and the fab party and everything else. You know what I mean, don’t you, Deeta?” She looked at me, her lips twitching. “Is that your name for the diary? That’s sweet.” I glared my fury at her and kept my lips shut. She had some nerve, invading my privacy like she’d done and was doing and still turning around to ask me questions.
Openly smiling now, she went back to reading. “I know you do because I’ve been longing for it for so, so long, it feels like an eternity. I want Daddy’s cock, Daddy’s dong, Daddy’s dick, Daddy’s man–meat.” She stopped. “Really, Alana? Man–meat? Where do you kids pick up your vocabulary from?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended this wasn’t happening. I wasn’t sitting in the family room on my father’s lap, listening to my mother reveal my deepest secrets to him. I was somewhere else entirely, maybe at school, or, no, the mall. Yes, that’s it. Shopping at the mall.
“And I want it in my cunt, my mouth, my ass, between my boobs and anywhere else he feels to put it.” Daddy shifted and moved, pulling me out of my shopping spree at the mall and back to where I was, sitting on his lap as I listened to my Mom violate my privacy by reading my diary aloud. Something had changed…something…was different. At first I didn’t understand what it was but my confusion only lasted a minute. It was Daddy’s cock. It had hardened, lengthened, and I was sitting right over it, my pussy separated from it only by the clothes we were wearing. The realization turned me on so much my juices gushed out of me and into the satin crotch of my Victoria Secret panties.
Mom’s voice continued on as she shot us both an amused glance. Did she know what was happening? She’d said she w
as fine with what I’d written but, surely, she wouldn’t be ‘fine’ with knowing Daddy’s rod–hard cock was rammed tight against my pussy. I squirmed on his lap, discreetly rocking my hips to grind myself down on it, holding my breath to see what his reaction would be. Would he make me get up? But if he did, Mom would probably notice the bulge in his pants. She might be angry. Fantasies like those I’d written in my diary were just fantasies, but the reality is something else again. The taboo nature of my diary entries and of the whole situation was just so intense, it had overtaken us but Mom might not understand. Daddy needed me to hide the effect my dirty words were having on him.
“I want Daddy to kiss me like he does Mommy and I want him to finger me until an orgasm rocks my body into the next world, and then I want him to lick my pussy juice all up and fuck me with his long tongue.”
Daddy shifted again. OMG! This was so wild. While Mom sat reading aloud the naughtiest diary entries a daughter could write about her adoptive daddy, Daddy was sitting there actually doing his best to rub himself against my pussy. I watched Mom read and did my best to press myself down on his cock.
“And when he’s finished licking my sweet young cunt clean, I want him to fuck me hard enough to make me scream and shout. I want him to thrust his hard cock in and out of my pussy like he’s a convict who hasn’t had a woman in years. Oh, God. This is making me so wet, Deeta. I’m going to stop here and go masturbate. Of course, like always, I’ll be pretending it’s Daddy fingering my dripping cunt.”
Mom snapped the diary closed. “And there we have it, your own words. So…” She began ticking off her fingers. “We know you look at internet porn. We know you’ve given several guys at your school blow–jobs, yes, I read those entries, too. We know you have the hots for Dennis, so you don’t mind older men. And, you’re eighteen, more than legal since the age of consent here in D.C. is sixteen. Will you do it?”
Distracted by the sensation of Daddy’s hard cock just millimeters away from my throbbing pussy, I’d lost the thread of her question. “Sorry, Mommy. What?”
