Any loving father would do the same.

I pointed to the floor at my feet. "Kneel."

She dropped to her knees, anxious to be taking things to a new level. She winced slightly as her heels pressed against her tender bottom, but she didn't let it stop her. I had known my wife for years before she abruptly became my ****-wife. I'd known what made her tick. What she liked, what she didn't. I'd known about her pain tolerance, her insecurities, her motivations. She'd been easy to dominate.

I knew nothing about my daughter's sexuality. I had no idea what type of training she needed. In the weeks since everything had changed, I had done some reading on the subject, and there was a great deal of brand new material specifically about this exact situation. Men all over the world were learning to cope with the reality of having to train their women as slaves.

I decided I needed to know what kind of **** she was. I had read that, even though it shouldn't matter and I could train her to be whatever I wanted, each woman would have some kind of driving **** within them that made them better suited for certain aspects of slavery, and I could help them have happier, better-adjusted lives if I emphasized those things in their training.

My wife, for example, was a simple woman. She just needed to know I was strong enough to dominate her in and out of the bedroom, and she would submit happily. I had found that weekly reminders worked best. And now she was extremely well-adjusted, obedient, submissive, happy.

I thought about Valerie's outburst. She had been motivated by discipline. She'd lashed out until I had shown her I could control her. Valerie sat very still and quiet as I studied her in silence. I could tell my long scrutiny was making her excited.

Valerie had always been a bit of a free-spirited child. Driven by every wind that passed, whether that was a fashion trend or a fleeting crush. She was chaos. She needed control. To _be_ controlled. She needed it to feel safe. It all made sense.

I walked around my daughter in a circle, evaluating her. She tried to follow me with her gaze but I grabbed the top of her head and pointed her face forward. I had acquired a number of things since I'd started training my wife, and kept a selection in my office.

I picked up a small luggage lock and a pair velvet-lined leather cuffs and returned to my daughter. Without a word, I closed each of them around her slender biceps, just above her elbows. I drew her arms together and closed the lock around the steel rings of the cuffs, locking her into an awkward position with her arms pulled together behind her back. Rope would be better for this, I realized, and made a mental note to pick up some bondage rope.

Valerie didn't struggle, but her cheeks were flushed as I returned to her front. Her pert breasts were on full display and I couldn't quite resist the urge to give one perfect little nipple a pinch.

She jumped, sucking air through her teeth, but the flesh responded beautifully with arousal. Sensitive nipples, got it. I added nipple clamps to my mental shopping list.

"Alright, ****. Here is your first lesson." I noticed her shiver with delight as I used her favorite word again. She had romanticized ideas about what it meant to be a ****. That'd pass in time.

I took both nipples between thumb and index finger and pinched, lifting her higher on her knees until she couldn't follow my movements any higher and I was sure I had her undivided attention as she gasped and winced, staring up at me. "A **** has no right to anything. No guarantee that being good will spare you pain."

I pinched a little harder and she cried out. "Ah! Daddy, it hurts!"

Releasing her, she slipped back down onto her knees and winced again as her heels pressed into her bottom. I cupped her chin and lifted her face to mine. The stunned expression of pain and betrayal was almost exquisite on her lovely features. I slapped her without releasing her chin. "Look at me."

She did, her eyes showing hints of tears.

"A **** endures whatever her master sees fit to inflict upon her. It doesn't need to make sense to you for it to be correct. Understand?"

"Yes, Daddy." She said softly. She seemed worried that being a **** might not be as fun as she had hoped. Well there was no backing out now.

I decided she needed a bit more of an attitude adjustment. "Open your mouth. Tilt your head back."

Her eyes glittered as she expected being allowed to suck my cock. The little slut. She opened her mouth wide and tilted her head back eagerly.

Instead, I spit into her open mouth and when she started freaking out, I clamped my hand down over her mouth. Leaning down so my face was very close to hers, I warned in a dangerous tone, "Swallow it, or wish you had."

She swallowed. I could see that she was starting to understand the truth of the first lesson. As a **** she had no control. She didn't get to pick her treatment. This wasn't a game.

I released her and went back to the cupboard where I kept my wife's training aids. I pulled out a blindfold and returned to Valerie, pulling it down over her eyes. "Open your mouth again."

Warily, hesitantly, she turned her open mouth up towards me again. Her discomfort was evident, but she obeyed.

"Good. Now stay just like that and think about all the things that I might feel like putting in your **** mouth. And be quiet."

I set about cleaning up the mess that she'd made in her tantrum, leaving her to wonder if every rustle of movement was me preparing to **** something into her open mouth.