I forced her into the living room and threw her down on her couch. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, looking like she was on the verge...of tears. “Shut the fuck up, and take off your clothes,” I told her with a slap across the face. She reluctantly obeyed me. As she did I opened up my duffel bag and first toot out the duck tape. I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up. I tapped her arms behind her back. “Please, don’t hurt me,” she begged.“Oh, I’m going to hurt you plenty,”. I figured she had finished asking questions for the night. What she had done wasn't so unusual. At least twice a week she would ask me something very much in same line. Boy was I wrong."Daddy?" she began turning around to look at me."I thought you were done but go ahead." Do you masturbate?"I had just taken in a mouthful of my drink when her question caused me to spray the contents all over."I beg your pardon," I coughed in shock."Well, since mom died you haven't dated so I sorta figured you. More

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