********************************
Friday: 4’10”
I awoke to hear Kyra rustling around her room. My back was sore as hell from the poor excuse for a bed I slept on, and my mouth was completely dry from sleeping with it open all night. There were slits in the closet doors, tilted downward so that I could only see things close to me on the floor. Having nothing else to do, I put my face up to the inside of the door and watched as my daughter’s feet came by every now and then. I looked on as her panties, shorts, and white shirt fell to the floor around her feet, unable to help myself picturing what was on the other side of the door, if only I could look up above her ankles.
She then walked off toward the bathroom, evidently feeling free to walk around the house in the nude now that my eyes weren’t free to stare at her any longer. I heard the shower turn on, and I listened to the water running for probably 10 minutes. After another few minutes, I heard Kyra re-enter her room and move about again.
I wanted nothing more than to call to her and beg her to let me out. I hated being trapped in her small closet, and, admittedly, I wouldn’t mind her opening the doors and giving me a full view of her bare flesh standing so tantalizingly close. Stuck in her closet, looking out into her room, my mind was focused on Kyra and nothing else. But, I wisely decided to stay silent and motionless, remembering her stern warning the night before.
I heard her pull her dresser drawers open, and I surmised that she was putting on a new bra and panties. My breathing quickened as I heard her footsteps approach the closet. My body tensed with anticipation as she undid the rope and pulled open the closet doors. There she stood, all 74 glorious inches of her, which, relative to my original size, was a colossal 8’4” of female perfection. Good God.
I sat in eager anticipation, waiting for her to release me from my cell. But, to my dismay, she acted like I wasn’t even there, simply reaching above me to pick out the day’s outfit. Still not daring to move a muscle, I gazed up at her towering form as she pulled out several blouses and decided which she would wear. Finally, I was relieved to see her look down at me and bend over. As her body approached I was amazed, and also quite intimidated, by the increasing size difference between us. I realized that her arm was now easily longer than my entire upper body, including my head, as she reached down past me to the floor. I thought she was about to pick me up, but instead I felt my body being shoved roughly to the side. She had simply brushed me aside to get to the heels I had been leaning against. She stood back up to her full height and closed the doors again.
No! I was sure she was going to free me just then. She wouldn’t … leave me in here all day, would she? I began to despair as I heard her dress herself and get ready for school. She went downstairs and opened the fridge. OK, I thought, she’s not gone yet, she’s probably just toying with me and will let me out after she eats breakfast. I listened with rapt attention as she set her empty bowl in the sink and began climbing the stairs.
My heart was pounding as I awaited my fate. I panicked as I heard her put on her backpack. “Kyra?” I ventured, but not daring more than a whisper. She didn’t respond as she walked to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. To my great relief, she returned to her room and stepped in front of the closet. Oh, thank God, I was saved.
She undid the knot and opened up. I gasped as I could glimpse her panties inside her skimpy skirt. She had on the same button-down shirt from before, with most buttons undone as usual. She held a full water bottle in her hand as she peered down at me imperiously. I watched as she unscrewed the cap and began to drink from it. About halfway done with the bottle, she tilted it down and looked to see how much water remained, then decided that was too much. She drank some more until only ¼ of the water remained, then put the cap back on and dropped it into my bare lap. “That should get you through the day. And when it’s empty you’ll just have to pee in the bottle.”
WHAT!? No! I was stuck in here all day? “Kyra, please! Let me out!” I begged. Her wicked smile showed how much she enjoyed my despair. I leaned forward to plead my case, but her high-heeled foot swiftly contacted my chest and sent me sprawling back to the confines of the closet. Stepping back, she closed the doors before me and tied the rope on again. All the while, I pleaded more and more frantically, “I’m so so sorry, honey, what I did was so wrong, but I swear it’ll never happen again! I’ll do anything you want, anything! …” I began sobbing. I saw her feet standing in front of the closet; she was no doubt loving my reaction. Then she stepped out of her room, down the stairs, and out the door, leaving my desperate supplications unanswered. I heard the car pull out of the garage. I was trapped in my daughter’s closet for at least another 8 hours, with only 3 ounces of water, no food, and nothing to do. I tried wresting the doors open, but she had the rope tied tight and there was no give at all. Defeated, I slumped back against the wall and reflected on my miserable position in life.
The hours dragged on. I had quickly finished my small water ration since I was parched from the night before, and since I had to urinate badly. My mind entered stasis mode as I lay despondently on the closet floor. After what must have been 3 hours of mind-numbing torture, I got up and stretched, getting antsy from all the sitting around. I then noticed the oversized clothes hanging before me, clothes that would look comical on my tiny body. Then, out of a mix of sheer boredom and kinky curiosity, I pulled one of her dresses down and decided to try it on.
Designed to hang just above her knees, Kyra’s dress instead came down to my ankles. I felt absurd as I looked down at the straps trying to fall off my narrow shoulders, holding up a dress that was so loose it could fit another half of me inside. I began to get aroused as I reckoned with the immense size of my young daughter. I estimated that I now weighed just 90 lbs at my 4’10” height, not even 60% of Kyra’s weight. No wonder she was able to brush me aside so easily to get to her shoes.
I tried on several more dresses, shorts, and blouses. The shorts were the most comical; with their low cut and large waist, they covered up practically nothing, effectively leaving my erect penis out in the open air. I was becoming extremely turned on by the thought of my daughter’s voluptuous curves filling out the same clothes that were engulfing my tiny body. I only barely managed to stop myself before things got out of hand, remembering what Kyra threatened to do to me if I came while trapped in here. I quickly returned her clothes to their rightful place and sat back down.
I spent 5 of the most incomprehensibly boring hours of my life on the floor of Kyra’s closet. I was getting stir-crazy from having to sit still for so long, but there was absolutely nothing I could do until my daughter got home from practice. I had plenty of time to reflect on my situation, gradually building up hatred for Kyra and her completely inappropriate treatment of me. But, as I lay trapped and helpless in my daughter’s closet, as the long hours took their toll on me, my mind wandered to thoughts of Kyra’s body and those rare times when she showed me care and compassion. These thoughts gradually dominated my mind, and I slowly began to wonder if, perhaps, I did deserve this punishment after all. I mean, it really was my fault, wasn’t it, peeping in on Kyra last night. Kyra might not be the most innocent, perfect angel, but I had always sort of thought that way about her, and that image of her still lingered in my mind from years past. And it was wrong of me to do that to her. She’s so … confident, and mature, and she was only trying to teach me a lesson for my own good, right? Maybe, instead of focusing only on how much of a monster she was, I should try to change my own behavior. As I sat and reflected, I realized that I only wanted Kyra to love me again, and treat me kindly, and that would only happen if I gave in to her judgment and started behaving better for her.
I was daydreaming of a happier future with Kyra when, miraculously, I heard the garage door open. My eyes lit up. I waited with bated breath as she climbed the stairs and entered her room. Not wanting to upset her, I waited patiently as she moved about her room. After a few minutes, she untied the rope and opened the closet doors.
With a surge of energy, I leapt up and hugged Kyra around her midsection. “Kyra, dear, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll be good from now on, I promise. Please, can you forgive me?” I pleaded, looking up past her breasts into her eyes far above.
She held me at arms’ length and examined me, with a hint of surprise on her face. “Well, perhaps you did learn your lesson after all. We’ll just have to wait and see if it sticks. Meanwhile, you may get yourself a drink and go to the bathroom. But then I want you to get dinner ready, OK?” she told me.
I nodded eagerly, saying, “Thank you, Kyra!” As I started for the bathroom, I paused. “Kyra, can I put some clothes on first?”
“Hmmm … no, you’ll have to prove that you’ve earned that privilege first.”
“Yes, dear,” I assented, as I dashed to the bathroom. After I had done my business, I went to the kitchen and began making dinner. As I opened the fridge, I felt a loud rumble in my stomach. God, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten a thing in almost 24 hours! I pulled out some bread and butter and was about to stuff my face when Kyra stepped out of her room. Hearing me open the fridge, she called down, “Now, Daddy, I didn’t say you could eat yet. I don’t want you to spoil your appetite.”
Spoil my appetite!? I would need to miraculously turn this bread into a hundred loaves for that to happen, I thought. But, seeing Kyra peering down at me, evidently testing my reaction, I quickly replied, “Yes, dear, of course. I’m sorry.” Satisfied, she went back to her room. I made the dinner, even though I felt crippled from the hunger. I called Kyra down to eat and served her before myself, maintaining the best smile I could. Once she sat down and began eating, I dove into my own food like a rabid animal.
“Manners, Daddy! That’s no way to behave at the table.” She was amused at my predicament, knowing just how hungry I must be. I didn’t think it was funny, but she clearly did. With effort, I slowed my eating down and ever-so-slowly began to fill my stomach again. As I did so, I noticed with some relief that Kyra had changed into a loose-fitting outfit meant for comfort around the house, meaning she was somewhat less stunningly beautiful and distracting than normal.
I made some small talk with her, trying to keep her spirits up. I felt awkward sitting at the table eating in the nude, but I didn’t bother complaining. Several times during the meal, I made sure to tell her, “Thank you for teaching me that lesson, Kyra. I really learned a lot.” I almost – ALMOST – believed a little bit of my words, too.
At one point, I asked her, “So what are your plans for tonight, Kyra?”
“Oh, no plans yet. Some of my friends are having a little get-together after dinner, and I might show up.”
“That sounds fun, dear,” I replied, trying to cover up my displeasure with a smile. She knew I didn’t want her going out to parties at her age, but she was a big girl now and could do whatever the hell she wanted, right? I needed to have that mindset, anyway.
We finished eating, and I generously offered to clean up Kyra’s dishes for her. She stood up and rubbed my hair as I walked by. I found the gesture slightly demeaning, but I took it as a sign that I was on her good side and I walked away pleased with myself. Kyra stayed at the table and started texting with her phone as I cleaned the kitchen.
I heard her squeal with glee, then jump up from her seat. “Steve is going to the party! I can’t wait to see him!” She bounded up the stairs and into her room. I guess that means she’s going, I thought. After cleaning the kitchen, I thought I would make Kyra happy by starting my chores.
About 20 minutes later, I heard her call from her room, “Daddy, come here please!” She was still giddy with anticipation. I stepped into her room and almost had a heart attack. There she was, wearing the black dress that I loved so much. But this time her effect on me was even more overpowering. She absolutely towered over me now in her heels, her stunning appearance augmented by fragrant perfume and tasteful makeup. My senses became overwhelmed as she beckoned me to stand in front of her.
“How do I look?” she asked playfully, drawing me closer to her body. I now had to look up past her breasts hanging just above my head to see her face. I was speechless. She giggled. “Daddy, you’re so cute down there,” she said, pulling me into her for a quick hug. “Now,” she said eagerly, “I need you to help me with something. Steve is coming to the party, and, with any luck, I’ll get him to make out with me tonight.” I didn’t like the sound of that. “As you know, I’ve never been with a guy before, and I don’t want him to think I’m a loser or something. So I thought I would use you, my little sex toy, for some practice before the real thing tonight.”
My eyes went wide with panic. My daughter was going to practice on ME before making out with another guy!? I tried to bolt for the door, but Kyra’s hands grabbed my arms and held me fast. “Oh, please, Daddy. I know you want to.” Ignoring my struggles, she easily pulled me onto her lap as she sat down onto the bed. “Let’s start with some kissing,” she said, then pulled my mouth up into her waiting lips. This wasn’t happening to me, it’s all just a bad dream, I thought, as I clenched my jaw shut, closed my eyes, and turned my head away from her.
With one hand, Kyra grabbed my jaw and wrenched my head back to her. I felt her warm lips press into mine as I grimaced. “Open up,” she said lightly, seeming to treat this whole ordeal like a game. She squeezed my jaw, forcing my mouth to open slightly as I felt something wet and warm peruse the front of my mouth. Kyra was probing my mouth with her tongue. Squeezing my jaw harder, she explored deeper into my mouth, acclimating herself with the feel of my teeth and gums. I tried to repel her tongue with my own, but this only brought a sound of pleasant surprise from Kyra as she experienced the play of two tongues against each other for the first time. I resigned myself to pulling my tongue back and letting my daughter rape my mouth. With shame, I realized that, despite myself, I was getting aroused by my daughter yet again.
After a minute or two of exploring, Kyra pulled out of my mouth and sat back with a delighted expression on her face. “Wow, Daddy, that was fun!” she exclaimed. “How did I do?” she asked innocently.
I didn’t want to answer, but seeing her waiting expectantly for an answer, I conceded, “It was … uh … pretty good. I guess it was too much tongue though,” I said dejectedly.
Kyra glanced down at my stiff penis and said, “Oh, cool, look at that! I guess my kissing WAS pretty good after all!” She reached down and gave it a playful squeeze, sending ripples of pleasure through my body. “OK, now YOU kiss ME this time. Pretend that you’re big and strong, like Steve, and try your best to take control of the kiss. It won’t be easy for a little fella like you, but give it your best shot anyway, OK, Daddy?” I hated the situation I was in, yet it also hurt my feelings that Kyra didn’t see me like a man at all. It was clear that, at the moment, I was nothing but a little toy for her to play with, a practice dummy.
Torn between conflicting emotions, I didn’t make a move. “It’s OK, Daddy, I’m not expecting much. Just do the best you can,” she encouraged, having no confidence in my manliness. Just wanting to get through this as quickly as possible, I reluctantly moved in and kissed Kyra softly on the lips. I slowly parted my lips and tried to get her to do the same, but she didn’t respond.
“I’m serious, Daddy, you need to try harder.” She was getting more than a little annoyed. To spur me on, she reached down again and started fondling my cock. My body twitched as I felt her touch, then quickly a wave of arousal washed over me. Like a man possessed, I began to give in to my sensations and I kissed Kyra with renewed passion. I hungrily pressed my mouth into hers, opening up slightly and snaking my tongue into her own mouth. I began to kiss her in rhythm, pulsing my tongue deeper and deeper into her warm mouth. With reckless abandon, I worked my tongue around hers, losing myself in feverish passion.
I was really turning on the heat, more lost in passion than ever before in my life, by the time I felt her hands push me away from her. Panting, still reeling from the incredible sensations I had just experienced, I looked into her eyes. To my shock, she seemed completely unaffected, even bored with my feverish ministrations. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait for the real thing tonight,” she said with disappointment and a hint of scorn.
Discouraged, I replied, “I’m sorry, Kyra, I tried.” Still aroused, I quickly added, “But please, just give me another chance, and I promise I’ll do better this time.” I couldn’t believe I was begging my daughter to let me kiss her again.
She sighed. “Fine, let’s go again, but this time give me everything you got, OK? Really try this time.”
I nodded eagerly and plunged forward into her waiting lips. Wasting no time, I parted my lips again and pressed into her. Although I tried to push deep into her mouth, her jaw had hardly opened and I found myself awkwardly trying to squeeze my tongue through her lips even though they wouldn’t budge. I decided to help my cause by grabbing the back of her hair and pulling her head back to put me in a more controlling position. But as I tugged, her head didn’t tilt back an inch. The fact that I was sitting on her lap didn’t help my efforts, either. I was getting frustrated, giving her my all while she just sat there like a statue, coolly watching me with open eyes. I wanted nothing more than to show my daughter that I was still a man and could give her something she needed, but I ended up just feeling helpless in her lap.
I decided to go for broke, and I brought my hand up to fondle her incredible bosom. Immediately, however, she grabbed my wrist and yanked my arm back painfully behind my back. I sensed that she had had enough, and with her other hand she suddenly grabbed a handful of my own hair, yanked my head back, and overwhelmed my mouth with a brief but totally overwhelming kiss. She easily pried my jaw open with her mouth, thrust her tongue into me, and worked it around my mouth at her own pace. My head completely immobilized by the painful grip of her hand on my hair, and my mouth being slowly and methodically dominated by the overwhelming strength of her own tongue and jaw muscles, it was clear that this was no romantic kiss. Its sole purpose was to show me that Kyra was boss, that she could and would do anything she wanted to me, and, most of all, to demonstrate the utter absurdity of the notion that my pathetic little body could have anything at all to offer her sexually, at least not in the traditional male sense.
The rape of my mouth continued for an arduous thirty seconds, the presence of her tongue in my mouth bringing my lust for her to the boiling point, made all the more scathing by my incestuous shame and knowledge of my complete sexual impotence.
Finally, she withdrew from my mouth and looked down at me, still holding my head back painfully. Wagging a finger in front of my eyes, she scolded with biting derision, “You are the tiniest, most pathetic little man I’ve ever seen, Daddy. You no longer have anything at all to offer to the opposite sex. So, you are not to touch my body, or any other woman’s body, with your grubby little hands ever again. Only real men, like Steve for instance, have that privilege. Are we clear?”
I couldn’t answer, my mind screaming with shame and agony. Impatient, Kyra stood up and dumped me onto the bed. “I can still get some practice out of you,” she said matter-of-factly, eyeing my still-hard penis. “It won’t be the same as having a real man in my mouth, but then again it might be good to start small.”
It took a moment for me to realize what she meant, but by then it was too late. Kyra had descended onto me, her head down by my groin. “Kyra! You shouldn’t do –“ I was cut off by a jolt of electricity as her lips enclosed my member. She took my entire length in easily; I was far smaller than I used to be when I was 6’6”. As I writhed in ecstasy, I found that she was very inexperienced, but nonetheless my extreme attraction and arousal for my daughter brought me to the brink after only a few quick strokes from her lips.
Hearing me start to moan and buck in anticipation of my climax, she abruptly removed her lips and clamped down on me with the agonizing force of both of her huge hands. “Already!?” she yelled with indignation. “Are you fucking kidding me?? You can’t even hold it for 5 seconds!?? How the fuck am I supposed to practice with you; you aren’t even a man!” She had somehow managed to hurt my ego even worse than she had already. With an exasperated sigh, she stood up and headed for the bathroom. “Stay right there, you pathetic excuse for a man. I’m going to go wash your disgusting taste from my mouth.”
I lay still, physically and psychically beat up, until she returned. She walked to the mirror and straightened her hair, giving me a breath-taking view of her curvaceous body pouring out of her skimpy dress. She scowled down at me, seeing me checking her out. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she beckoned me to follow her out of her room. Closing her bedroom door behind me, she pulled my chin up so my eyes met hers, and she reminded me, “My bedroom is still off-limits. I want you to finish your chores and be in bed by 9:00 as usual. I’m heading out now to spend a long evening with my man, so I won’t be back until late tonight.” She turned to leave.
I rushed up to her and grabbed her arm while pleading, “Kyra, I’m sorry! Please, I can still, um … do things for you. You know, like last night …?” I actually felt proud of how well I had made her cum when I went down on her yesterday.
“Get your fucking hand off me,” she spat, swatting my arm off of her. Turning her head, she said with an imperious glare, “That’s never going to happen ever again, understand? I have a big, sexy man now to fulfill ALL my needs. What the hell use are you to me now? You’re like a freakin’ 12 year old boy who shoots his load off whenever a girl looks his way. No, Daddy, my body is COMPLETELY off-limits to you now. Hell, I don’t even know why I keep you around, except for a few chores here and there. Speaking of which …” She dragged her finger along the counter and sneered disgustedly at the clump of dust that her finger had picked up. “… If you don’t start cleaning this house better, I swear you’ll find yourself living on the streets very, very soon.”
She left me stunned at the top of the stairs as she descended towards the garage. As an afterthought, she stopped by the kitchen counter and pulled out a few tissues from the nearby Kleenex box. “Here you go, Daddy,” she said sexily, striking a pose and running her hand sensuously across her tits, and it was all I could do to keep from exploding in my pants then and there. “I want you to have these tissues as a gift from me, for when you’re lying alone in bed tonight fantasizing about your daughter’s hot, sexy body, which you’ll never have, while she’s out fucking her boyfriend.” Kyra then turned and leaned her torso forward, pressing her arms together to give me the most impressive display of cleavage possible. “I’m sure you’ll keep this image in your head, won’t you?” Then she confidently picked up her purse and strutted out the door.
I was mortified, depressed, and ashamed, but God damn was I aroused. I really couldn’t help it; it was exactly like she said: I could not for the life of me erase the image of her strutting down the stairs, her ass swaying provocatively, and the image of her bending over with all her glorious tit flesh and an incredibly sexy and venomous smile on her face. She seemed to peer right into my soul with that look, knowing exactly how obsessed I was with her body and how unable I would be to resist the urge to jerk myself off, now that she was unwilling to do it for me.
Despite knowing this, I reached down and fondled myself anyway, hating myself for it but unable to stop. I was so goddamned aroused that it didn’t take but 30 seconds before I was spewing all over my hands as I hastily covered up to prevent staining the carpet. She was more right about my sexual maturity than I cared to admit.
I went down the stairs, retrieved the tissues from the counter, and cleaned myself up, exactly as she had intended. Then I grew increasingly depressed as I thought about what I had just done. My gloomy mood continued as I completed my chores, making the house as immaculately clean as possible in the short time I had left, and got ready for bed. As I turned out my bedroom light at 8:59, I got in bed and eventually drifted into a troubled sleep.
I awoke with a start as I felt two large hands pull my torso up out of bed. I realized that it was Kyra, and to my surprise I also discovered that it was still dark outside. Silhouetted by the hallway light behind her, Kyra brought her face up to mine, and I could smell the alcohol on her breath. Jesus, she had been drinking! She was still 6 years under the drinking age!
“Come on,” she said as she brusquely pulled me to my feet and hauled me to her room. She stumbled a bit, and I surmised that she was more than a little tipsy. Standing in front of her bed, she pulled me into her body, forcing my head way back to be able to barely see over her massive bosom. Was she going to make me go down on her again, despite everything she had said? Part of me hoped desperately that this would be the case, since it would give me a chance to bring her pleasure and regain some of my manhood.
But I was terribly, terribly mistaken. “Steve is spending the night with me here. He’s waiting outside right now, since I wanted to have some time to secure you into place first.” What was she talking about? And there was no way that boy was sleeping over with my daughter! I had to do something.
“Kyra,” I said, trying to muster some authority in my voice, “please, you’re too young to have sex! And you only just met this boy. You should really get to know him first before getting intimate,” I pleaded.
Kyra pulled my head back as she lowered her own head to my level, having to bend her back at almost a 90 degree angle to do so. Pulling me inches from her boozy breath, she said in a low voice, “Steve isn’t a boy; he’s so much more man than you. I’m going to let him fuck me all night long and there’s nothing you can do about it. In fact,” she continued ominously, “you are going to be here with us for the whole thing.” What the hell did that mean!? She grabbed both my wrists in one hand, and with the other hand she reached down and picked up a piece of rope that was sitting on her bed. I noticed that, in fact, there were 4 such ropes waiting there, which she must have just pulled in from the garage.
“What are you doing!?” I said, with genuine fear in my voice. I tried to struggle as she pushed me to her bedside, but I was completely overpowered. She forced me down onto my back on the floor next to the bed and tied the rope onto my wrist. Ignoring my pathetic struggles, she reached over and brought the other ropes down, tying them to my other wrist as well as both ankles. As she held me firmly in place, she leaned down and told me, “You’re going to spend the night under my bed. That way, I won’t have to worry about you sneaking about, spying on me as I screw my boyfriend. I know how you can’t control yourself. And, besides, you’ll be able to hear what a real man can do for me as he fucks my brains out.”
I protested violently until a slap came crashing down on my cheek. “NOT ANOTHER WORD!!” she commanded. “You will NOT make another sound all night. If Steve finds out you’re down there, I swear to God I’m going to leave you tied up down there until you starve to death.” I was scared shitless, not doubting for a second that she would leave me under her bed for days, maybe even – well, she wouldn’t actually let me die … would she?
Not wanting to test her resolve, I kept my mouth shut as she fastened the rope connected to my left arm to the upper left bedpost. She then tied my leg to the bottom left post, pushing me under the bed. I began to cry as she walked around, reached for my arm and leg, and tied them to the opposite bedposts. “I told you: NOT A SOUND!” she barked, walking out of her room. I tried to choke off my sobs as I lay spread-eagle under my daughter’s bed. My legs were spread uncomfortably far apart, and the ropes had just a little slack to allow me to wiggle a few inches side to side. Staring up at the bed frame inches above me, I burst out into more sobbing as I reflected on my situation.
Hearing two pairs of feet ascending the stairs, I put forth a herculean effort to stifle my sobs again. Whether it was from sheer strength of will, or due to the sheer terror I had for Kyra and her punishment, I was able to remain silent as the two entered my room.
“Well, well, Steve, now I have you right where I want you,” my daughter said with a sultry voice.
“Are you sure your dad isn’t here?” Steve asked.
“Of course – he’s out of town. Not like he could stop me from getting my hands on you anyway,” she purred.
“Baby, I’m going to show you a night you’ll never forget.” I heard the sound of lips smacking together as they began making out feverishly. Clothes began dropping to the floor around me from all sides. “Oh my God, you’re huge!” she exclaimed, to my dismay. Then I heard them fall onto the bed above me, and the bed creaked as they writhed around in a passionate embrace. Soon, I heard my daughter gasp, “Ohhh, Steve, yessss … Fuck yessss!!” I felt them start to move in rhythm, and I could only conclude that Steve was inside my daughter. The pace quickened, and through the pull of my ropes – and even the occasionally pressing of the box spring against my body – I felt that the action above was really heating up. Several minutes later, my daughter let out a wild scream as Steve brought her to climax. As the movement slowed and eventually halted above me, I realized that I had just witnessed my daughter’s first time, not two feet above where I lay. I couldn’t help feeling humiliated, embarrassed, and … well, to be honest, more than a little jealous. Jealous that this schmuck had just given Kyra the best orgasm of her life, while I was unable to get even the slightest rise out of her earlier as she “practiced” on me.
I lay there for several minutes, but then I suffered in silence as they went at it again, and again. Three times Kyra came, each time greater than the last. I reflected that my dreary, mind-numbing captivity in her closet today was nothing compared to the torture I had now been put through. This was a punishment I would never forget, something that no man should ever be put through, especially not by his own daughter!
Mercifully, they finally fell into a deep slumber, oblivious to the small man trapped underneath them. I wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep away my own troubles, but even that small luxury was taken from me as I was forced to lay there with my limbs pulled outward, the pain and discomfort keeping me awake. I sobbed quietly, although not loudly enough to wake Kyra, and after several hours I had cried myself to sleep.