Electra

There are all kinds of limits in the world.  Speed limits,  height limits, limitations on what you can do, and where you can do it.  Limits on where you can park, when you can walk in the mall, even limits on what you can wear.  There are personal limits and legal limits, and as a sexual submissive, sometimes those limits are called into question.  I have quite a few limits that I have formed over the years.  For example, if you invited me over to have sex with your fifteen year old son, in order to "show him the ropes", I'd politely decline.  It's not because I object to have sex with fifteen year old boys. It's that it happens to be illegal and I do object to going to jail.  But there are personal limits too.  Change that fifteen to fourteen and I'm going to be a little standoffish.  Go lower and I'll flat out refuse.

A few years ago I was put in a position where I was basically ordered to accept something that I didn't really want to do.  Technically it didn't violate my limits and a few people asked "well why didn't you establish that as a limit?"  It's because just because I don't like something, doesn't mean it SHOULD be a limit. I don't like anal sex, but imagine the chaos that would cause if I suddenly declared my ass off limits?  And because I am honor bound to follow the orders of my betters unless they violate my limits, I found myself quaking down to my bare feet as I read Master Barrett's email.I fired off a reply, one that questioned his sanity.  There was no way I was going to comply with his instructions.  But as requested, I stuffed my triple vibroballs up into my sex, set them to low, and headed outside to take care of my early morning chores.  It didn't take me that long, and when I finished I headed back inside.  Breakfast was ready and my family was already sitting at the breakfast table.  I leaned over and kissed my father gently on the cheek.

"Morning, Dad.  Happy Father's Day!" I said brightly.  He smiled at me.  His cards were already propped up in the center of the table, as well as the new pocketknife I had splurged on as a gift.  As we sat down and ate bacon and eggs, he opened his cards and gifts and we generally had a great morning.  I sat through it, ignoring the gentle purr inside me as well as the fact that slowly, my sexual fires were being stoked.When I made it back upstairs, ostensibly to change into a dress for church, I checked my email.  A response had come from Master Barrett and it chilled me to the core.

You will speak to me with respect slut unless you wish Fathers day to become Fathers week

As to what he'll do next I honestly have no idea, but I look forward to reading your account of the day. I am sure you already know why I gave you this instruction but just in case you need reminding I  will explain. Making you suffer amuses me slut. In the past I have restrained myself from giving you instructions which would put you in situations which most would consider taboo, not wanting to push you too far. I have decided though that given your purpose is to be used and abused for the enjoyment of others I would put my enjoyment of your suffering first and your thoughts on the acts I have you perform a distant second. Usually I amuse myself at your expense by having you inflict pain and humiliation on yourself. Today I think I would rather have you degrade yourself with your father.

Besides I know you well enough that your pussy is dripping at the prospect of my instruction, so lets not pretend your protest was anything more than a halfhearted attempt to hide how much this turns you on.

Barrett

And that was it.  I hadn't specified that involving my own father in my sexual life WASN'T a limit.  I could hardly do so retroactively.  I took a deep breath, trying to rationalize what was coming, what I had too do.  I slipped out of my jeans and my tee shirt, and put on my summer dress.  Then I went looking for Dad. My father's right leg was damaged in a traffic accident involving a drunk driver several years before.  He isn't immobile, but moving anywhere is difficult and requires his walker.  He can't put much weight on it at all.  He can't drive.  It used to take him fifteen minutes to get up the stairs before we put in one of those motorized seat lifts, but even then, he tries not to move around all that much.  I could hear my mother puttering around in her room, which meant my father was downstairs, probably already dressed and ready for church.  I padded downstairs in my dress, barefoot, the buzzing of the vibroballs barely audible.  It took me only seconds to find him. He was sitting in the easy chair across from the television, reading the newspaper.  I went straight up to him and knelt down by his side.  He put down the paper and looked at me.

"Happy Father's day," I said softly, trying to summon the courage for what I had to say next.

"Thanks, Bre.  It's been a good one."

I bit my lip for a moment.  "It's about to get better," I muttered.

My dad looked down at me for a moment, his eyes narrowed.  I took a deep breath and started.  "Dad, for this father's day I want you to know that I am your beck and call.  Anything you need I will do for you.  Anything you want I will give to you," I said. Then came the clincher.  "Anything you want to do to me, you can do."

I fell silent, my head down, not daring to look in his eyes.  It wasn't like he didn't know what I was.  Our relationship had taken a strange turn over a year before when I had discovered that he was well aware of my sexual proclivities.  In a fit of madness I had even done something not right and while neither of us had actively pursued things, he knew what I was, what I was doing, and what my life was like.  While he may not have known that I was stuffed with vibroballs, he certainly knew I had SOMETHING stuffed up inside me.  Before facebook kicked me off, he was an avid follower.  I have it on good authority that he reads my blog too. But he didn't say anything.  Evidently I had either shocked him or he was contemplating the portent of my declaration.  I swallowed and continued.  "Right now I've got the triple vibroballs in me on low and I've been directed not to cum without your express permission," I said rapidly, the words gushing out of my mouth.  I waited, still kneeling next to him, hoping he would just say thanks and I'd be on my way.  Instead, his one word question almost sent me running.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Anything," I whispered, knowing precisely what that meant. He clearly was thinking for a moment.  "Well, go get ready for church.  That will do for starters, young lady," he said.  I nodded, somewhat relieved, not that I expected him to order me to suck his cock right there anyway.  As I stood, his hand came down on mine. "Thank you.  And please turn up those vibroballs to medium, but don't cum. If you get close, just turn them off for ten or fifteen minutes."

I swallowed.  "Yes sir."  I lifted the front hem of my dress and plucked the remote out of the waistband of my panties.  I turned the vibroballs up and their muted rumble came out from between my legs.  My dad grinned and then I tucked the remote back into my panties and hurried upstairs.

The next few hours were tough for me.  My father acted as if I hadn't spoken to him at all.  Except for a whispered comment ordering me to turn the vibroballs back down when we arrived at the church, he didn't ask for anything.  And so I suffered, wondering when the other shoe would drop and just what would be asked of me.  The service seemed to drag on, but finally we drove home.  I changed to blue jeans and a tee shirt, though I did keep the vibroballs tucked away in my pussy.  Perhaps I was hoping to make myself seem unavailable.  It didn't help.  An hour after lunch my father called out for me and when I arrived, he held out a tiny piece of paper. 

"Put all that in a bag and put it in the truck," he told me quietly.  I glanced down at the list.  Bondage cuffs, rope, alligator clamps, a blanket, my sap, a switch, my vibrator... plus about fifteen other items including my knotted rope.  I glanced back up at him. 

"Dad?" I asked with uncertainty.   He just grinned. 

"Do it.  That's an order." And so I did.  Every terrible cruel item ever used on me went into that bag and I snuck it downstairs and out to the truck with minimal fuss.  Twenty minutes later I was just settling back to do some light reading when I heard my mother's voice calling me downstairs.  I tossed aside the book with a sigh and padded down to see what she needed.

"Bre?  Would you mind taking your dad to the hardware and electronics store?" she asked softly.  "He's in a mood and wants to browse and I don't have time today to take him if we're going to have turkey for dinner tonight," she said.  My mother has a tradition of granting us special meals on days like our birthdays, or on father's day.  My father loves turkey dinners and so it was no surprise he had asked for turkey with all the fixins.  She had spent half of Saturday making Green Bean Casserole and getting the stuffing cooked.  There were two pies made and enough biscuits to satisfy a crowd of carb queens.  My voice caught in my throat.  I seriously doubted my dad wanted to go to the hardware or electronics store.  This was a ruse, a canard meant to separate me from my mother and get me out of the house.  Since dad couldn't manipulate Mom into leaving, he'd manipulate me into taking him somewhere.  Suddenly his list made perfect sense.

"Sure, Mom.  I'll take him," I replied lightly.  I slipped on a pair of flip flops and then went out into the living room.  My dad was ready and already slowly making his way to the front door.  I tossed his walker down the three stairs from the porch to the drive and then serving as his leg, I propped him up as he struggled down the steps.  Getting him into the passenger seat of the truck was easy.  My dad is still pretty strong and it's only his leg that doesn't work right.  I closed the door and then moved around to the driver's seat.  I climbed up next to him, got the engine started, and then we left our house behind.   My dad didn't say a word as we drove down the gravel drive that spans our property and ends up on the farm to market road south of our land.  I stopped, looking left and right, then gave him a smile.

"Which way?" I asked.  My dad smiled back.  "Where's your stripping spot?" he asked.

I blinked and then flushed furiously.  I pointed to a worn dirt shoulder just up the road a bit.  "Right there," I said nervously.

"Well, go park in it," he ordered. I did as told.  It took all of thirty seconds to turn right then pull off onto the shoulder.  I put the truck in park and then turned to look at him expectantly.  His eyes flashed with delight and then his head jerked toward the windshield. "Well?" he asked.

"Well what?" I replied.

"Go strip," he said pointedly. I gave him a look of disbelief. 

"But.... I don't have anything to change into!" I protested.

My dad gave me that "are you a dummy look" and then sighed.  Then he grabbed my bag which was sitting near his feet, pulled it up and opened it.  A moment later he handed me my fuck me high heel shoes and both sets of bondage cuffs.  "Put these on," he said. I took them from him, still trying to come to terms with what I was doing.  I felt like I was close to hyperventilation.  I licked my lip, my father's expectant eyes on me, and I opened the door.  I stepped out into the hot summer heat and moved to the front of the grill, staring at my dad through the windshield.

I stripped.  I started with my shirt, baring my bra encased breasts.  Then I peeled off my jeans, turning in order to wriggle them down off my ass.  As I got down to my panties, I realized that for the first time, I had an actual audience.  There was someone watching me, someone who appreciated my body, someone who wanted to see me naked.  But that knowledge was tempered by the fact that I couldn't see through the front windshield of my truck.  The reflection of sky and field made it impossible and for a moment, I pretended that it wasn't my father sitting there, but Robert, or Kari.

And so when I took off my bra I did it in a way that delayed my exposure to the last second.  Then I cupped my breasts, stroking them, making the gold padlock that dangled from my right nipple piercing jiggle.  My panties went next and then I took the time to put on my high heels.  Minutes passed with me standing buck naked in front of the truck, totally oblivious to the possibility of oncoming traffic.  The heavy leather ankle cuffs went on next, with one foot up on the bumper.  Then the wrist cuffs followed.  Finally I was finished and I moved back around the truck, opened the driver's side door, and climbed in.

The cool air hardened my nipples instantly and I glanced over.  My dad was watching me with burning eyes and I was surprised to see that he had his cock out and it was stiff.  I resisted the immediate urge to bend over and suck on it, which is pretty much what I feel every time I see cock, and instead waited for him to say anything.  He reached out and grabbed hold of the gold padlock dangling from my nipple.

"I read about you getting this, but it's nice to see it in real life," he said.  "What does it feel like when I twist it?" he asked.  Then without another word, he gave the padlock a full three hundred and sixty degree twist.  Pain shot up through my tit and I hissed and tried to bear it stoically.  A further half twist set me gasping and finally I had to bring a hand up to my chest.  Pain shot through me and even when he let go, letting my breast go back to its normal position, I felt the residual ache of his touch.

"Go down the road four miles and turn left when I tell you," my dad suddenly ordered. 

"But Dad! I'm naked!  What if we pass a cop or something!" I said, slightly appalled.  I'd gone topless before while driving, but never buck naked.  He answered by picking up the vibroballs remote which I had deposited in the seat beside me.  He thumbed the vibrating bullets to their maximum setting, enjoying my whimper and sexual squirming.     

"Don't worry about it," he said.  "We aren't going far."

I put the truck into gear and followed his directions.  There was a left, a right, then another left.  Miles passed beneath the truck's tires and I was starting to have trouble as the vibroballs forced me closer to orgasm.  Just as I thought I was about to explode, my father thumbed the remote downward, reducing the intensity of the vibroballs and then directed me into a gravel turnoff.  We bumped our way over a cattle guard and then headed past several acres of grazing land toward what appeared to be a ramshackle shed.

I pulled up and stopped the truck as my dad ordered me to park at the side.  Then he started to get out of the truck.  I opened my door, still just a little disconcerted to be stark naked in nothing but heels and bondage cuffs.  I grabbed the vibroballs remote and rounded the bed of the truck to help him get his walker out.  He took the remote from me, held it, and then once I had gotten his support down, he handed it back to me and headed toward the shack.  I grabbed my bag and a blanket, again at his direction, and followed him.

It wasn’t much of a structure.  There was a wooden framework that looked as if it might have pre-dated the US Civil War.   One half was being used as a storage for hay, while the other half was nothing more than an empty room.  Light leaked in through wide gaps in the wooden walls and the hay dust was pretty thick.  My father looked around for a moment, then nodded.

“This will do nicely.  All right, Bre.  Drag two or three of those hay bales over.”  He nodded at the stack of hay in the corner.  All of them were rectangular, baled small and in seconds I was sweating, muttering under my breath as I dragged a few over to the clear half of the shack.  My father had me arrange them into a sort of platform about the size of a twin bed.  Then I spread out the blanket.  

A skein of rope came next and my father tossed it up over one of the rafter beams above us, centered right above the new makeshift bed.  Once it was in place, he began unbuckling his belt and I knew it was time.  I came over and helped him to the blanket, sat him down, and finished with the belt.  Then I removed his jeans.  That was a challenge due to his leg. Lastly, I watched as he himself tugged his boxers down.  With his cock standing at perfect attention in front of me, I moaned as he tugged the vibroballs out of my pussy and then bound one end of the dangling rope to my wrists, securing them tightly together.  

To my surprise, he lay back on the platform, his shaft pointing straight up.  He pulled on the opposite end of the rope and I found my arms rising high.  

“Straddle me,” my father ordered and I climbed up on top of him.  I didn’t need directions at this point.  I knew where I needed to go.  I oriented myself properly, and then, with my hands still held taut above my head, lowered myself down.  The glistening tip of his shaft slid through my petals easily and I felt a wave of shame.  This was so wrong, wasn’t it?  To have sex with my own father?  I sank down deeper and he groaned beneath me.  It felt so good to have cock in me that I rolled my hips, thrusting and working him with my body even as my brain protested.

He held the rope in his hand, pulling my arms upward and keeping me taut.  His other hand came up to cup my breast and pinch my nipple.  Pain shot through my chest and then my father was pumping.  His hips came up, thrusting his shaft through me like a rocket ship leaving for earth orbit.  It didn’t take either of us long. I exploded first while my father came a close second.  He erupted inside me, spurting huge amounts of cream into my pussy.

When he loosened his hold on the rope, I collapsed against him, my long red hair lying across his chest.  The scent of his aftershave filled my nose and again that overwhelming sense of wrongness hit me.  I lifted up, struggling to get off him, but he mistook my movements for concern for my comfort and merely squeezed my breast gently before allowing me to move away.  I fell off the blanket and platform, landing on my ass in the dust.  My father moved the other direction, finding his clothes.

I didn’t help him dress.  I just sat there, a dazed look in my eye and an uncomfortable heaviness in my gut.  This wasn’t the first time I did something sexual with my dad.  A year before I had given him a blowjob and then allowed him to fuck me up the ass as part of a Scavenger Hunt assignment.  Since then there had been occasional moments when my mouth was wrapped around his cock, plus that time in the barn when he had appeared and took my punishment in hand.  I still remember the brutal smacking of that plastic ruler against my clit.

My father looked down at his watch as he pulled his jeans back on.  It took him a few extra minutes than it does most men thanks to the withered leg.  But eventually he stood, holding on to the walker and pulling the opposite end of the rope I was tied with along the wall.  My first signal that we weren’t even close to being done was the solid pull that brought me to my feet. Another tug forced me back up onto the raised blanket.  I knelt and that seemed to satisfy my father.  A moment later my dad was securing the rope around a pillar and I was keeping in the center of the blanket, my bound wrists high above my head.

He cut about four feet of hemp from the end of the rope with his pocket knife.  Again he looked at his watch, then moved closer to me.  Without a word he twisted his wrist, sending the half inch line swishing through the air.  I gasped as it landed across my buttocks, radiating a light heat.  A second swing echoed the first, though this time the end curled around my right hip and left a red mark just below my hip bone.  He swung again, and then again and in short order I was moaning and wriggling under the onslaught, my bottom a superheated mass of pain.

When I almost begged him to stop, he switched targets.  It came as a surprise as the rope slashed across my breasts, setting my little charm padlock to dancing.  He wasn’t pulling his strokes either as the rough hemp cut into my skin.  The welts that appeared across my bosom were not just caused by the impact of the makeshift lash against my skin, but the abrading effect of the rope itself.  One perfect impact made me feel as if my nipples were being torn off and I screamed in agony, pulling myself upward on the rope binding my wrists.  As I screeched, my father came quickly up to me, grabbing hold of my torso to keep himself from falling, all while one arm went around my waist and the other came up between my legs.

He dug three fingers up into my sex, checking my arousal before taking his hand away.  He doubled, then tripled the loop of rope in his hands.  With my legs still spread, he swung the strands of rope upward between my thighs, letting them impact darkly on my swollen and soaked labia.  I cried out again, my head thrashing as the pain burst through me, centered on my tender bits.  I started to close my legs, bringing my thighs together, but my father swung his bad leg over one of my calves and despite the lack of movement, he was able to put a certain amount of weight on it.  It kept my legs open as he slashed against my clit.  

In retrospect, I’m glad that Jake Gannon arrived when he did.  I’m not sure how much more I could have taken.  How my father heard the sound of Mr. Gannon’s truck crunching on the gravel outside is still a mystery, but even as I wailed from the brutal torment going on between my legs, he suddenly put down the rope, stuffed the double vibroballs back into my pussy, set them on full power, and went outside.  I was left hanging there, still on my knees, my pussy dripping with juice and awash in heat.  My ass still burned, as did my breasts and my hair had fallen forward to conceal my face as I hung there, a testament to my father's vitality.

The door of the shed squeaked and a bright beam of sunlight hit me in the face, blinding me.  Two shadows crossed across the light and then the door shut again.

“Holy shit. Your own daughter?” 

The silence stretched on and I let out a soft, piteous moan. 

“She obviously needs a good fuck.” Mr. Gannon finally said. It was only then that my father replied. 

“And a punishment, for being such a nympho humiliation pain slut.”

And that’s what happened.