admin

Author's Note: Less sex, more narrative in this chapter, preparing for chapter 3, when things get a whole lot more dangerous!
Daisy just received her university results. I don't know what they are yet. The unopened envelope from the university is sitting on the kitchen counter, along with bills and junk mail, which are all mine. I don't dare open it. The last time I opened her mail without asking her (a bank overdraft notice), she punished me for it. Her punishment was to tear up and set fire to three of my vintage comic books, which I'd kept in perfect condition since I was ten years old. Thirty-six years of my life in flames. She knew how much they meant to me. But she hadn't known that they were worth about five hundred pounds. If she had known, she would have sold them and pocketed the money instead.
I pop some bread into the toaster and glance at the envelope thoughtfully, wondering what her results are. I'm guessing that she barely passed, or maybe even failed. She's too lazy to study. But she's smart -- she was born with my brains. I had hopes for her to become a lawyer like me.


I heard her running out of her bedroom into the bathroom. "Daisy, you've got a letter," I called out, but she slammed the bathroom door shut. She never shut the bathroom door except when she was really pissed off with me. What had I done now?
Hurriedly I took the sheets from my sofa and removed my spunk-encrusted tissues from the coffee-table, before she had a chance to humiliate me, and ask me if I'd had "more nice dreams" about her.
I brewed coffee and chopped up fruit salad for her breakfast. She emerged from the bathroom, naked. Although she'd done the same thing nearly every day for a year now, my heart leapt and I got hard at the sight of her smooth, wet body, and the scent of her shower gel.
She sat down on the bar stool next to me at the breakfast counter. Her arm brushed mine, sending tingles down it.
"You've got a letter," I repeated, sliding the envelope closer to her. She ignored it and set to work on her breakfast in surly silence.
"Is it your exam results?" I asked innocently. She glared at me angrily.
I stroked her thigh soothingly. "Daisy, what's the matter? Are you worried about-"
She shoved my hand away from her leg. "-Fuck off, pervert."
Maybe she was pre-menstrual, I decided. She's moody at the best of times. I jumped off the bar stool and turned my attention to the dishes in the sink.
"You open it," she instructed me. So, I'd guessed right: she was nervous about her results. I picked up the envelope and started to open tunceli escort it.
"Stop."
"Ok, Daisy. Here." I handed her the envelope, but she didn't want it.
"What do you think I got?" She asked me.
"I think you did well," I lied.
"Liar," she said, scornfully. "You said I was too lazy to study."
"I never said that."
"Yes you did. When you were making breakfast."
Shit, I'd been talking to myself, and she'd heard. No wonder she was angry at me.
"Oh Daisy, sorry, I didn't mean it," I said. "...and I also said you were smart," I added.
"I'm way smarter than you. I could beat you at chess when I was ten."
It was true, she would beat me every time; except once. And after that one time, she threw such a tantrum that I've been letting her win ever since.
"Look, let's just kill the suspense, and open it," I said.
She snatched the envelope from me and tore it open. "If I've passed, you owe me a thousand pounds," she said, as she unfolded the letter.
"Ok," I said, although we'd never made any bet.
I watched her eyes scan the letter. She folded it and carefully replaced it in the envelope.
"Well?" I asked.
Daisy looked at me coldly. "F."
I sighed and tears welled up in eyes. "Oh, darling..."
"F for 'Fuck you.'" She screwed up her face with rage, tore the envelope into shreds and threw the pieces at me. A few minutes later she stormed out of the flat.
I picked the scraps of paper up, pieced them together and read the letter. She hadn't failed: She'd got a first, with distinction! For a moment I was completely confused by her reaction -- at the very least I'd have expected her to gloat and make me apologize for doubting her.
And then I realized: All she really cares about is what I think of her. I'm so used to thinking of her as completely dominating me I sometimes forget how much she still needs my praise. I promised myself I'd make it up to her when she was ready to forgive me. I picked up my battered iPhone 4. The glass was shattered, and sometimes little shards would cut my fingertips when I used it. It used to be her phone, but she'd swapped it with my new one a few days after she'd moved in with me and taken over my life. I transferred £5,000 into her account. I knew she'd immediately get a notification on her phone, and that would soften her up a little.


Daisy takes after me in another way: She doesn't bear a grudge for long. She came back a few hours later, looking cheerful. She dumped a huge pile of shopping bags on the floor.
"Retail tunceli escort bayan therapy?" I said.
"Yeah. Thanks." She tossed my credit card on the table. I wasn't sure whether she was thanking me for the £5,000 or, more likely, just being sarcastic for my "letting her" use my card for the shopping.
"Did you go to Westfield?"
"Yup. Wanna see what I got?"
She started unwrapping boxes, scattering them all over the floor. To my surprise, the bags were filled with office attire -- or rather, her idea of it: High-heeled pumps, short-skirted two-pieces, Sheer tights. A cross between eighties' high-powered power-dress and Mayfair hooker. I burst out laughing, then stopped, worried she'd get pissed off again. But then I started up again.
"Ok, fine. I won't show you then. Your loss."
"No, Daisy, I'm sorry. It's just, they're just... so different from what you usually wear."
"That's the idea: Daisy Beecham two point oh."
"I didn't think there was anything wrong with one point oh."
"Yes you did." She pushed me onto the sofa. She undressed rapidly, down to a pair of tiny, black-laced knickers. She flicked the elastic on them, saying, "I knicked these".
She pushed them down to her ankles, picked them up with her toes, and flung them into my lap. "Here you go. For you. Have a sniff."
I crumpled them up to my nose and inhaled her scent, moaning, "Oh, my God, Daisy..."
"Wear them on your head, fucking pervert."
I pulled the knickers over my head. I watched her through the lacy material, while she quickly donned her power-suit: A white cashmere rollneck, grey pin-striped short-skirted two-piece, patent pumps and sheer black tights.
She placed the glossy heel of a shoe on the sofa close to my groin and rhythmically raised and lowered the tip of its sole onto my bursting cock. "They're Louboutin's. Five hundred and fifty quid."
"Oh Daisy..."
"'Oh, Daisy,'" she mimicked. "'Oh Daisy, you're so hot, I want to fuck you, even though you're my daughter... Oh Daisy...'"
I ran my hands up and down the calf of her leg feeling her young firm flesh through her silky sheer tights. My eyes fluttered closed.
"Careful, they're Wolford's. Hair up, or down?"
I opened my eyes to look at her.
"Up. Down..."
"You're gone," she laughed. "Fucking hell, I'm going to have no problem getting a job with this outfit. I have got the job, haven't I, sir?"
"Yes. Yes. Daisy..."
"Good. But I'm still not sure about it. What would my job entail, sir? Would I have to suck the boss off?"
"Mmm... escort tunceli Please, Daisy..."
"Oh, dear... Well, let's get on with it. Stand up, sir."
I stood, too quickly, and felt giddy. Daisy got down on her knees. I closed my eyes. I felt her wet tongue running up and down my shaft, then her cool fingers wrapping around on it and pulling it down. I was so hard that it hurt me. Her lips clamped gently over the tip of my dick, and she pushed and flicked it with her tongue.
I looked down at her gently bobbing head. She looked up at me... I felt her gaze, a direct and intense signal, sending me tumbling over the edge of orgasm... but she pulled away suddenly.
She stood up.
"Dad, I've been thinking..."
I don't know if she'd been intending all along to ruin my orgasm, but in any case she'd succeeded in doing so.
"Oh Jesus, Daisy."
"Oh, were you about to cum? Sorry. Anyway I've been thinking, about what you said, about me working at Lambert."
Lambert Partners was my law firm. Shortly after Daisy had moved in with me, I'd tried to get her to apply for an internship with them. But she'd been completely uninterested. And then we'd started our - relationship. After that I was glad she'd rejected the idea: seeing her at work would have been too much for me and might have been dangerous. But now she'd changed her mind about working there, presumably because of getting such a good degree result.
My dick was still hard as a rock, and it was difficult mor me to think straight, but I managed to say, "Daisy, it would be too risky. I - I can't control myself when I'm with you. And you're the same. I'd end up losing my job, and you'd fuck up any chances for yourself."
"But this is so fucking hot. I love this roleplay."
"Fuck's sake, that's my point! It wouldn't be roleplay, it would be -" Daisy stifled my last words with her mouth. I pushed down her Wolford's to her knees and slammed my dick inside her. I grabbed her tight, my hands on her smooth ass, and came, silently, overwhelmingly. She moaned, and I felt her pussy rippling on my shaft as she climaxed.
"Oh my God, please tell me I've got the job sir..."
"Daisy..."
I phoned Ted Bloom, a junior partner I was pally with, and asked him if he could find an intern placement for my daughter.
"Paid," Daisy said, who was listening to the phone conversation on speaker.
We heard Ted's laughter on the other end of the line.
"Ambitious, is she?"
"She's really smart, Ted. She got a first in her history degree. And she can beat me at chess, and you know how good I am."
Ted agreed to see her next week. As I ended the call, I had a deep sense of impending doom. I turned to Daisy to tell her so, but she ran over to me and put her arms around me. I felt her warm cheek against my neck. We kissed.
"Thank you, Dad. I love you."
"And I love you too."