Stealing Anne from her Master Ch. 01 by PHPervDaddy

Stealing Anne from her Master Ch. 01 by PHPervDaddy

“Sit down,” I said to my daughter and her boyfriend, “let’s chat.”

Anne, my 35-year-old adopted daughter, sat down in one of my armchairs, while Michael, her 28-year-old boyfriend, sat on the couch. I sat in my recliner. “Dad, be nice please,” Anne said.

“I’m not going to be intentionally mean or rude. How nice I am is entirely dependent on Michael here; on his responses to my questions and the feel I get for him. Either way, you’re going to sit there and remain quiet and stay out of this conversation unless someone asks something that requires a response from you, understand? I want to have a talk with the person who wants to be with my daughter,” I told her.

“Fine, dad,” Anne responded. She has a thing about having the last word with me sometimes.

It might seem odd that I was having the dad talk with my 35-year-old daughter’s boyfriend; she’s a grown woman. But the fact of the matter is, she’s very inexperienced. She’s only ever been in one serious relationship that lasted for 5, and she’s only ever had sex with 2 men. As far as sex and relationships go, she could be likened more to a teenager learning and finding her way, and I was concerned at how quickly she was moving with this new guy. She’d only just met him a month ago for the first time in person.

She slept with him the first time she met him, and then moved on to spending the night the next time a couple weeks later, then the weekend and coming home ‘in a committed relationship’ with him. She, and her 2 kids, live with me because she can’t afford to make it on her own right now, despite having a decent job with decent pay. The cost of living was just so far out of hand that she couldn’t afford to be out on her own, not as a single parent. I didn’t mind having them here, I loved my daughter and grandkids and would do anything for them.

“So, Michael,” I asked, “what do you do for a living?”

“I work at a grocery store in the evenings making produce and fruit trays,” he said.

“And are you going to school?” I asked.

“No, just working and hanging out,” he replied.

“Do you have any plans for the future? What do you want to do career wise long term? Do you want to learn a trade, move into management, learn a skill and turn it into a business?” I asked.

“No, not really,” he said, “I don’t really know what I want to do. I’m content with where I’m at, even if I really don’t have any extra money. I get plenty of time to relax at home and play games and hang out with friends.”

OOF, that’s a red flag. While I certainly get starting out at the bottom, at almost 30 I’d expect there to be some thoughts beyond just barely making the bills and chilling. That’s the way her ex had been. It slid into not even making the bills, not helping around the house, and not helping her at all – he was just in the relationship for someone to be there for him, cook for him, clean for him, and give him sex. She didn’t need another of those losers.

“I see,” I said. “Well then, tell me about the shooting incident.”

Michael Got visibly tense and anger crawled across his face. My daughter had told me he’d had a drug problem in the past, but he’d supposedly gotten clean and stayed that way for 4 years. I, of course, googled him and one story I’d come across was a shooting incident a few years ago. He had been the victim, but the article made it sound like the shooter was known to him. Perhaps a friend or associate, possibly a drug related dispute, or drug fueled stupidity?

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he said, practically spat, through clenched teeth.

“Well, no offense, but I don’t care if you want to talk about it or not,” I said. “I know you used to have a drug problem, and the article made it seem like the shooter was a friend or associate of yours. I just want to make sure that if that’s the case, you’re not still hanging around with those types of people and that your former lifestyle is not still a factor in your life today. Even if you got off the drugs, the rest of the lifestyle would be a concern.”

“I got clean 4 years ago, and I’ve stayed that way,” he said, “and if that’s not enough for you then you can go to hell. I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

I noticed him tensing his arms and clenching his fists. This looked like it was going to be another red flag. If he couldn’t handle some tough questions without losing his temper, I was dubious as to whether he could be trusted when things got rough in a relationship and things get said in the heat of the moment.

“Michael,” I began, making sure to keep my tone even and calm, “I’m just trying to get a feel for you and make sure my daughter isn’t at risk. I think, if you’re being reasonable, you can understand how this would be concerning to me; how your previous lifestyle and friends or associates possibly being involved in shooting someone, possibly over drugs, would be of concern to me if you were still living any part of that lifestyle or hanging out with those same types of people.”

“Try to understand I’m not attacking you; I’m trying to make sure that the person my daughter is going to be spending time with doesn’t – directly or indirectly – pose a threat to her because of their lifestyle or the people they’re around. I wouldn’t want her to get caught up in something like that going bad in the future. I feel like that’s reasonable, and asking the question I am is reasonable,” I finished.

Michael sat there silently for a moment and then the anger drained from his face. His fists unclenched; his arms relaxed. I thought this was a good sign; he was calming down and we could have a rational adult conversation. Then he leaned forward, and his face took on a hard, cold look. I looked at Anne; she looked very worried.

“Frankly,” Michael began in a steely voice, “I don’t give a shit what you think is reasonable. I already told you I don’t have to explain anything to you, and I’m not going to. You can’t stop me from seeing her. She’s already mine. Your daughter belongs to me.” He said.

“Now hold on there…” I started.

Michael interrupted me and said, “No. You had your say, now I’m going to get mine. Anne belongs to me. She let me fuck her the first time we met. She’s been sexting and dirty talking with me every day. When she didn’t do something I told her to do, I punished her by ordering her to give her ex a blowjob the next time she saw him, and she did. The 2nd time she came down, her ex wanted sex as payment to take the kids a day earlier so she could come down sooner. I ordered her to give him what he wanted because I wanted her here sooner.”

“She did it. She fucked him and then came down to me. she sucked my dick in front of my best friend and let me use all 3 of her holes as my personal cumdump – MULTIPLE times. She’s never even asked me to use a condom and I never have. I told her to send me nude pictures, and videos of her masturbating with a vibrator, and she did it without complaint. She let me take explicit pictures of her.”

Michael paused for a second, and before I could interrupt, he continued, “The last time she came down she let me tie her up and blindfold her and take her however I wanted. There were even other people here when it happened, and she knew that I could be letting any of them have their way with her. She was willing to let that happen, and she made that clear up front. The next time she comes down, I’m GOING to let other guys have their way with her and use her as a cumdump.”

“I haven’t even had to take her on so much as a single date! I’ve filled all her holes – her mouth, her pussy, and her ass – with cum so many times I’ve lost count. I’ve covered her tits, her face, and her ass in cum. I’ve turned her into my personal fucktoy. I am her master. Like I said, I own her, so I don’t give a fuck what you want,” he sat back and stared at me.

I looked at Anne. The look on her face told me all I needed to know. Everything he said was true. She sat there with a mixture of pain, humiliation, fear, anger, and… was that arousal? Evident on her face. My blood boiled. I briefly thought about getting up, going and getting my sledgehammer or perhaps my reciprocating saw, and teaching this asshole a lesson. I discarded that idea; it wouldn’t do anyone any good for me to go to jail.

“Anne, you are to sit there and remain silent. No matter what happens, you are not to get up and move, or say anything, unless I tell you otherwise, is that clear?” I asked firmly.

“Yes, daddy,” she said quietly.

I began to speak, lowering my volume and keeping my voice cold and emotionless. “Michael, you just outed some extremely intimate details about my daughter without her consent, to her father of all people. You’ve betrayed her trust, disrespected her, hurt her, humiliated her, and emotionally abused her. I don’t even have to ask her to know that she no longer feels safe or respected with you.”

“You have 30 seconds to get out of my house and off my property. Anne will not be going with you. I don’t care how you get home; walk, call a cab, call an uber, call a friend. Do not ever set foot on my property again. Do not ever come near my daughter, or attempt to contact her in any way, again. She will not come near you or attempt to contact you again.”

“Don’t you threaten me, I’ll,” Michael said, raising his voice.

“You’ll what,” I interrupted, “You’ll kick my ass? I’d love to see you try. I’m not threatening you; I’m giving you a chance to leave before I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing. And I’m warning you that if you ever come near my daughter or contact her again, I will make you pay. I may be out of shape and overweight and old, but I am very VERY resourceful, and determined. I will make you pay and pay dearly.”

I leaned forward and said, “Maybe I won’t even start with you directly, but with someone close to you, as you’ve done to me.” I stared him directly in the eyes and finished, “That, Michael, is an absolute promise… and I can 100% deliver on that promise.”

He looked at me for a moment, as if trying to decide how serious I was. I simply continued to look directly into his eyes, my face completely expressionless save for the murderous look in my eyes. I thought I saw something flash across his face – fear? Surprise? – before he stood up.