To build a proper girl up, sometimes she must be broken down first. How? Shame is a useful tool when someone knows how to use it. This fact was crystal clear two days ago, after I crossed one line--when my dream finally came true and I put my hands on the flesh of my lovely, curvy, growing 18 year old daughter, a tall, pretty girl dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. In crossing that one line, I broke many rules: those of a husband, a father, and an adult. Yet I was not the one who felt shame; it was Laura. She turned quiet as I groped her naked breasts, she turned red as my hand touched her pouting, fatty tummy, and she saw herself as unworthy as my fingers touched her pubic hair while she heard my discontent that there was any hair there at all.
Two days later, the time had come for her to know of my driving lust. It was time for Laura to feel more shame. It was a Saturday like any other, except my son was away on a camping trip and my wife was about to leave for a few hours on a research trip related to her graduate work. Laura was plaintive and quiet as her mother left; surely my daughter suspected that more would continue today. I woke up with the slightest pang of guilt. I had, after all, gotten away with cornering my daughter in the bathtub, feeling her, belittling her. In my study, shortly after breakfast, any guilt I felt was solved by a short glass of Jameson whiskey.
Painfully, I waited a whole hour with just my daughter and me in the house. Then I called her downstairs to the den, a wide, bright room with a wall of windows that looked out to the back yard. On the coffee table there was a small paper bag, a tall glass of Jameson that morning, and an old Polaroid camera.
"Yes, Daddy?" she asked sweetly. I could see her eyes flit to the bag. She always was one who loved a present.
"I've bought you something. A present, since you did just a good job last time." My last few words hung in the air. Since I had put my hands on her while she bathed a few days ago, this was the first reference to the event. She went to the paper bag, bending down to pick it up. For a moment, my eyes drank in the deep crevice of her ample cleavage. Those growing, tender breasts truly were delightful. Holding the bag, she pulled out first colorful paper, then two swaths of pink cloth. Momentarily she was confused.
I clarified it for her. "It's a bathing suit, Marshmallow," I said, using my pet name for her. "A two piece. Aren't you..." I paused, emphasizing the next word, "big enough for one now?" Seeing her blush, I knew I had hit a nerve. Despite being 18, my daughter had only recently started to bloom, and with it had come some modest weight gain. Not only was she embarrassed by her ample, lovely chest, but the other curves of her body as well. Furthermore, she had always been a modest girl, preferring a one piece bathing suit even in our own pool.
"Yeah, I guess I can sort of see myself it...." Laura clearly was nervous about where this was going. Demurred, she smiled. "Thank you Daddy for the bathing suit," she said plainly. She paused, perhaps thinking ahead and trying to avoid what was coming. She added, "I'll try it on later."
I sipped my whiskey and smiled; I felt evil and wonderful. "No," I said directly, "you will go to the upstairs bathroom and put this on, then come back down."
I was slightly surprised to see a faint, pained look on my daughter's face. "Daddy, please. After what happened in the bathroom... I was terrified. It wasn't normal. This isn't normal."
Anger flared up in me. She wasn't ordinarily so vocal about dislikes. I took a deep breath, trying to control the rage wanting to bubble up. "I'll tell you what isn't normal. You have no boyfriend. I am not even sure that they find you appealing." Anger seeped into my voice, my volume increasing. "But I do, and you should respect that! You should honor that!!"
Tears slowly came into her eyes but did not fall, making them appear thick and glassy. "I know I'm not normal. I wish I was... I wish someone would just tell me what is wrong with me!"
Not even wanting to let any fatherly sympathy leak in, I sipped my whiskey again. Silence filled the air. I took a breath and spoke softly but firmly. "Laura, speaking back is one thing wrong with you. Disobeying a man, any man, is another thing. But these things can be fixed. All girls have some badness in them. You, however, can be a good girl by going upstairs and putting on this bathing suit right now." Now my voice changed, becoming more caring. "When you come downstairs we can have a good, honest look at your body and talk about what is right and what isn't. Okay?"
My daughter sighed and smiled. "Oh, so that's what you meant!" She looked relieved, and I realized that the events of in the bathroom must have taken a toll on her. In her naiveté, she truly believed that I was not capable of molesting her. This despite the fact that I had two days ago. And despite the fact that I would again this morning.
"Yes, darling. Go upstairs and change, and we can get this worked out."
Laura wiped her eyes and smiled broadly. "Alright, Daddy. Give me a minute." The bathing suit in her hands, she turned and headed to the stairs. My eyes crawled over her butt, so wonderfully plump and round. In yesteryear she had been a delight to spank. I now looked forward to touching that ass again.
I could hear her up in that bathroom, the very one that I had seen her naked in so recently. She took too long to come down. At first I was angry, but I realized that she must be up there, hands shaking and butterflies in her stomach as she looked at herself in the mirror. She must be up there wondering what was going on, what would happen. She must be scared and curious and confused. All the more reminder to go slow with her.
In time, I heard the bathroom door open. She paused at the top of the steps, then came down and into view. I had bought her a simple pink two piece bikini from Victoria's Secret in a medium size. Descending the stairs, my eyes were locked on her wonderful, moving breasts. They were large indeed, and had the bounce reserved for the rare girl that is both very busty and quite young. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, I looked into her face. Yes, she was nervous indeed.
"You are a lovely sight indeed, Marshmallow." Laura smiled, letting out the breath I didn't realize she was holding.
She walked closer to me, entering the full light of the windowed den. I saw now that I had misjudged in buying her a medium bathing suit. The bottoms seemed to fit with appropriate, luscious snugness. However, those wonderful, inescapable breasts of hers strained the top in an almost obscene manner. Goodness, how I loved the husky, soft curves to her body!
With a welcoming laugh, I said, "I must apologize, Laura! The top I bought you is certainly too small. I clearly... don't know your size up top."
She smiled back, in a relieved way. "Yeah! I was kind of wondering about that, but I guess I just thought... stuff... you know...."
I was not stern, but allowed the happiness to leave my voice. "'Stuff' and 'you know?' Laura, a girl has to learn to speak plainly to a man, as this is pleasing. Tell me what you thought when you realized the top was too small for your chest?"
"I thought you didn't realize how much it had grown lately," she answered plainly.
"Well, guilty as charged, my darling daughter." A wonderful question entered my mind. "And just how large are they?"
Laura stammered and crossed her arms in front of her chest, then said, "I am a 38 D cup now, Daddy."
How spectacular. She had managed to surpass her mother, who has a stellar chest. I looked at her chest and saw only arm. Hadn't I told her a few days ago not to cover up by me? Wordlessly, my eyes flashed anger at her. The sides of her mouth went down; she recognized that she had done wrong. Her arms fell to her sides.
Returning to the topic of her looks, I asked her, "What is the best feature on your body, Laura?"
"My chest," she said instantly. The answer that any girl with a large chest should give.
I smiled kindly. "Exactly, exactly." I reached slowly for the Polaroid camera. "Now, I'd like to take a few pictures, so that we can discuss things from the man's point of view. Is that alright?"
