It does at least help us be certain that we're not sociopaths. A sociopath won't feel guilty about anything, including not feeling guilty. So you can at least remember that. Don't worry about not feeling guilty; if you feel guilty for not feeling guilty, then you don't need to be guilty about it.
Okay, maybe I'm still taking too many pain pills.
Oh, and by the way, book three should be out soon (by which I mean within the next day or two, tops). And my incentive still stands.
Taking Daddy's Guilt
Nathan turned off his car and sat in
the driveway. He knew he'd have to go inside soon, and he knew what
would happen. He knew who was there, and how she'd look at him.
It made him hate himself. But not
because it was wrong. He hated himself because it didn't
bother him. It didn't feel wrong. It felt fine. It felt right.
Everything about it was fine.
He
should have been disgusted. He should have been wracked with guilt.
Should have turned himself in and insisted on a lifetime in prison.
Should have killed himself, or at least considered it. But no. He
never even thought of it. He just went about his life. He got dressed
every morning. Went to work. Came home. Hated himself for not feeling
bad. Then went inside.
She
was waiting for him, just like every day. She was on the couch,
watching TV. Something meant for kids much younger than her. And she
was dressed in a schoolgirl uniform even though it had been years
since she had ever needed to wear one. Her hair was in pigtails, and
her makeup made her look even younger. She did it on purpose. Not to
make him hate himself. But to remind him that it didn't bother him.
“Honey,
I'm home.” Nathan hung up his coat and loosened his tie.
“How
was work, daddy?”
He
grimaced. “It was fine.”
She
didn't look away from the television. She just pointed to the floor
in front of her and snapped her fingers a few times.
Nathan
moved over and knelt on the floor in front of his daughter. She
smiled down at him. “Are you ready?” she asked.
He
took a deep breath. Nodded.
She
reached into a little teddy bear backpack and pulled out a pink zippo
with a Hello Kitty on the side. She flipped the lid open and flicked
the flame alive. “Look at the fire, daddy,” she said. “Watch
the flames dance. Watch them flicker and dance in my pretty pink
lighter.”
Nathan
stared at the fire.
“See
the flame, daddy. Take a deep breath. Relax.”
He
sat back a little, blinking slowly.
“Relax,”
she said. “Go deeper and deeper. Just let it all drift away. Don't
think about any of it. You don't need to think, do you?”
“I
don't need to think,” he said, breathing deeply.
“Let
it all go. Relax. Go deeper. Let it slip away. Don't worry about your
job. Don't worry about mom. Don't worry about any of it. Relax.”
He
let out a breath and blinked slowly. His eyes felt so heavy.
“It's
okay to submit,” she said. “Deeper and deeper. You like to
submit. Don't you?”
He
nodded. “I like to submit.”
“You
like serving me, don't you daddy?”
“I
like serving you.”
“Good
boy, daddy. Relax. Deeper and deeper.”
Nathan
felt the weight of the world on his eyes, and he let them close.
“Just
float there, daddy,” she said. “Let it all go. Go deeper and
deeper. You just stay there, on your knees. Relax. Everything is
fine. You stay there. I'm going to go get the camera.”
She
snapped the lighter closed.
****
Nathan
pulled the key out of the ignition and took a breath. He stepped out
of the car and walked into the house. Hung up his coat. Pulled off
his tie. “Honey, I'm home.”
“In
here daddy.”
He
walked into the living room and looked at his daughter. She was on
the floor, watching something on the television. She looked up at him
and smiled. He smiled down at her, and wondered what he would do when
his little girl grew up.
She
stood up. Nathan didn't remember her being so tall. She smiled at
him, and he found his eyes drifting down her body. She was beautiful,
just like her mother. Of course, her mother was older. An adult.
Then
again, her mother never wore boots like that. His daughter was
wearing knee high boots of soft black leather, with platforms and
heels that curved the way an adult woman's body would curve. Her
boots shone in the light. They were so clean. So shining. They
reflected the light of the television, the light of--
“Daddy?”
she snapped her fingers at him. She had been talking, and Nathan had
missed it.
“What
was that sweetie?”
“You're
missing the movie, daddy.”
She
smiled at him, and something about the smile seemed wrong. It didn't
fit her body. Her body didn't fit her body.
He
smiled at her, then sat down on the couch. She sat down, leaned back,
and put those gorgeous boots in his lap. Crossed them at the ankle.
Nathan
didn't even notice when he bent down and kissed the toes. He just
kissed them and turned his eyes to the television.
He
looked up and saw himself on the screen. Watched himself bending over
and licking the leather boots in front of him. The same leather boots
in his lap, the ones he was kissing and licking while he watched.
But
there was something wrong. The boots in the video were on a much
older woman. An older, but gorgeous woman. One who looked just like
his daughter.
Nathan
looked over at her. She smiled at him, an older smile than fit her
young body. There was something wrong.
He
looked at the little girl next to him, then at the young woman on the
screen. He saw the white stockings and the school uniform on the
woman in the movie, then looked at his little girl and saw the white
stockings she was wearing. Saw his little girl in the same pleated
skirt.
On
screen, the woman whipped him. On screen, she told him he was a
table, then put her feet up on him. On screen, she told him to put in
the butt plug, and he watched himself do it.
Nathan
looked over at his little girl. They had the same smile. He looked at
the screen.
The
woman on the screen was looking at the camera. Looking at him
directly.
“Okay
now,” she said. “When I snap my fingers, you're going to get
dressed for work. You're going to go get in your car. Then you're
going to wake up like you're coming home for the first time. Tell me
you understand.”
“I
understand.” Nathan didn't realize he was saying it out loud along
with himself on the video.
“When
you come in,” she said, “You're going to see me as the little
girl you remember. You're going to see me like your little daughter.
You're going to treat me like your daughter. And you're not going to
do anything you don't want to do. When we sit down and watch this
video, you're only going to do things you want to do. Things that you
desire.”
Nathan
looked over at his little girl, who no longer looked quite so little.
“Which means you wanted to lick those,” she said.
He
shifted in his seat, felt the butt plug still inside him.
“And
when you hear me snap again, you're going to tell me, the real me,
what you really desire. What you really want to happen. You're going
to be completely honest, entirely truthful. Ready?”
On
the screen, she snapped her fingers.
Nathan
looked over at her. She smiled at him and raised one eyebrow.
“I
want to keep doing this,” he said. “I want to be your slave, to
worship you and serve you for as long as you'll have me. However you
want me, however you'll have me.”
She
smiled at him again. “And what do you want me to do to you?”
He
took a breath, not wanting to answer. But he couldn't stop himself.
“I want you to tie me up, to slap me, beat me, torture my nipples,
spank me. Put me in a collar and a leash, gag me, fuck me. Anything
you want.”
He
almost threw his hand over his mouth to stop himself, to avoid saying
anything more.
She
laughed at him.
“And
does it bother you that I'm your daughter? Your biological daughter.”
“No.”
The word slipped out before he could think about it. “I want it to,
but it doesn't. It bothers me that it doesn't.”
She
smiled. “It's okay daddy,” she said. “We can make that go
away.”
He
smiled at her and let out a sigh of relief. He'd never said the words
out loud before.
“The
hypnosis can get rid of your guilt,” she said. “As long as that's
what you really want.”
He
nodded. “That's what I want,” he said.
She
pulled out her pink lighter and flicked on the flame.
“Okay
then.” she smiled at him. “Watch the flame, daddy.”
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