Robert Vickers: His daughter_s keeper

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Robert Vickers His daughter_s keeper
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    His daughter_s keeper
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Robert Vickers

His daughter_s keeper


"And I swear, Mr. Strong, I fucked that blonde chick all night long! It was one hell of a fine lay!" Stan Linzer drunkenly said. "Thanks for getting her for me. That made the convention, in more ways than one!"

Mr. Strong sat stoic and silent in the corner, nursing his drink and peering at Stan aver the edge of the glass. He toyed with the ice cubes, which were not much different in color or temperature from his eyes, then quietly said, "That's nothing, Stan. What are business friends for?"

"You're right, Mr. Strong. Absolutely right. Anything I can do for you, just let me know." The man poured himself another drink and leaned back in his favorite chair. Having an important, powerful, rich man like Mr. Strong come to his tacky little house puffed him with pride. He knew it hinted at a possible position with the man's firm and, if the rumors were true, Mr. Strong didn't know the meaning of the word small. He did everything in a big way, from his personal life to his far-flung financial empire.

"I think you have it wrong, Stan. We're in a unique position, you and I. What I do can benefit you and what you do can benefit me. And both of us will come, out winners."

That momentarily forced away the alcoholic fog surrounding Stan's mind. He sensed big money in the works here. And he wanted every dime he could get. Ambition burned as brightly in him as greed.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing much. Say, could you call that daughter of yours back in here for a minute? You know, Carole."

"The only daughter I have," Stan said, his mind not reacting well to the sudden turn of the conversation. But obediently he called out, "Carole, honey! Come in here for a minute, will you?"

The girl entered the room and immediately heard Mr. Strong suck in his breath. Otherwise, there was no indication that the man even noticed her presence. Which made her wonder about him. She knew she was attractive and most men fell all over their tongues trying to tell her about it.

The redhaired girl looked curiously at her father and said, "What is it? Want something else? More potato chips, maybe?"

"Yeah, sure, in a minute, honey. Mr. Strong wanted to ask you something. Go on, don't be shy."

The last thing in the world the girl was, was shy. She cocked her womanly hips to one side and poised her fist on them. Inpudently thrusting her chest out a little, she was heartened to see the man's eyes widen slightly. He was alive. This was a challenge to her, to make him respond. She twisted a bit to one side and made her nipples press hard against her soft wool sweater. The hard points of her nipples formed little buttons and showed perfectly she wasn't one of those women who prefered to wear a bra. In spite of her huge tits, much larger than any one should really have, she didn't need any such support. Her boobs were firmly fleshed and bounced just a little as she walked.

Just enough to make all the studs in her high school turn and take notice.

"Well, Mr. Strong?" she asked. His eyes raked over her body, not missing a single curve or bulge.

The way her ass flared out prominently behind her was partially hidden but nothing could hide the trim legs and the tiny waist. It was almost small enough for a man with large hands to completely encircle it.

"Are you a natural redhead, Miss Linzer?" he asked, entirely off the wall. They way he asked it was almost as if he were inquiring about a job applicant's educational background.

"Yes. My mother, she's dead you know, had even brighter red hair than mine. But the green eyes are my daddy." She turned and fluttered her long lashes in her father's direction, trying to get some clue from him what was going down here. The blank look on his face told her he was as much in the dark as she was. All that mattered was that Mr. Strong was an important client and his every whim should be taken care of politely.

"Yes, I see," the man said, stroking his chin. "Run along now and I'll talk business with your father. I think both of us will profit handsomely from it."

Carole's hopes soared when she heard those words. All her father had been talking about for the last month was Mr. Strong and his millions. The man seemed to exude power and Carole could readily believe he controlled an international corporation. If her daddy had finally broken through some hidden baffler and was in line for a cut of that huge pie, so much the better. She might even be able to get a car of her own.

All her friends had cars or were able to use their parents'. Her father required their delapidated wreck almost constantly. She also suspected he didn't like her driving it because it was so dangerous. He had to for business, but she was his daughter and should be protected from such unsafe things.

Carole knew it was wrong to spy on her father and Mr. Strong, but she couldn't help herself. Whatever that strange scene had been when she had been on display, she had to see how it was going to pay off in the long run. The way Mr. Strong had looked at her had been with nothing but approval. Why, he might even be wanting to give her a job in his business. She could earn her own money!

Pressing an ear against the door didn't prove as effective as it did in all the movies she saw on television. Carole opened the door a crack and peered into the room. This gave her a perfect view of what was going on. Mr. Strong was standing, taller than she'd thought, dominating both the room and the conversation.

But the words she heard froze her stiff.

"…so I'm offering you the chance at a ten million dollar business deal in exchange for your daughter. She is quite pretty and will pleasure me from some time to come."

"But, dammit, that's my daughter!" complained Stan. Carole was horror struck when she realized the tone of his voice indicated he was already sold and was simply bartering for the sake of putting up a token argument.

"Ten million now, perhaps twice that in the next ten years. Can you turn down a thirty million dollar deal – and all over some misguided morality concerning your daughter? You make it sound as if she'd be sold into slavery. Hell, Stan, with the teenagers the way they are now, she'll enjoy what I've got in mind. All of them, sluts, each and every one."

"My daughter's a good girl," Stan said primly, if a little drunkenly. "I think she's still a virgin."

"No chick who waggles her ass and flaunts her tits like that is still a virgin, Stan. If she is, she's the world's biggest cock teaser. I swear, I don't have anything illegal in mind. If she wants you to, you can come see her after we're settled down."

"Got a taste for young stuff, huh?" Stan said needlessly. His fingers stroked up and down the length of the ballpoint pen. Carole watched in wide-eyed shock as he began to leaf through the pages of the business agreement. When he signed the copies in triplicate, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Was this some elaborate gag? Was all the haggling over her body for real or was it merely some crude joke Mr. Strong enjoyed? She didn't know the answer to that. Until he spoke again.

"I'll send my chauffeur and butler around to pick up your daughter tomorrow afternoon. You needn't tell her anything about this. And don't pack a bag for her. I'll furnish everything she's going to need for a long, long time." Then he laughed and it was that laugh which convinced Carole this was for deadly earnest. He meant every word he said about her being sold into slavery.

Her mind spun in confusion. She was worth thirty million. That ironically pleased her as much as she was frightened by the possibilities in herent in being a sex slave to Mr. Strong. What he had in mind for her was obvious. He was going to use her!

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