“Ah Cassandra, how was therapy today?” I asked as I walked into the living room to find my step-daughter smiling at me.
“It was fine John, thank you for asking.” she replied in a cordial tone.
I’d never expected her to see me as a father figure, I’d only meet her mother when she was eighteen and already headed to university, so her use of my first name was completely normal.
Though she’d called me many less… cordial titles in the last two years since her mother had died in a tragic car accident. It had only gotten worse when the will had left everything in my care, even Monica couldn’t bring herself to let her uncontrollable daughter squander her money in case of such a tragedy.
It wasn’t that Cassandra was a terrible person, just spoiled rotten and entitled to a level I’d never seen before. I’d done what I could before Monica’s death to help her become a productive member of society, but it just hadn’t worked.
After Monica’s death… well, things got far worse and I’d finally demanded she start attending therapy to deal withe her problems. She’d resisted of course, until I threatened to cut off her allowance and kick her out of my home… then she’d reluctantly agreed. What she hadn’t known that she was agreeing to was seeing Tom, a close personal friend of mine, that specialized in such head strong cases.
“What did the two of you talk about?” I asked and she instantly blushed and put her fingers up to her lips.
“Oh… John, you know that’s private.” she replied, still blushing perfusely.
“Right, right, I’m sorry. Well, how did the job hunting go?” I asked, changing the subject.
Her smile disappeared and became a frown, “Ah, well, not very good.” she replied sheepishly.
“You know that position as my personal assistant is still open…” I said, waving my hand in the air as if it was the most logical choice for her.
She blushed again and shook her head from side to side, “Thank you John, but I… I couldn’t possible… you’ve already done so much for me.”
“Nonsense, I’ve done nothing but what anyone would have done.” I dismissed her concern with another wave of my hand.
She nodded a thankyou but didn’t say anything else.
“Do I smell chicken for diner?” I asked, changing the subject once more.
Suddenly her eyes lite up and her smile beamed across her face once more, “Yes! Oh I hope I didn’t let it burn!” she replied and quickly made her way towards the kitchen, giving me a good look at her latex covered swaying ass as she did so.
I smiled and walked into the living room, setting my laptop bag on the floor as I took a seat and listen to the sounds of Cassandra working feverishly in the kitchen to prepare diner for us.
It was a major change that happened almost two months ago, her sudden desire to cook diner each night, the transition to latex as her primary fabric had been slower.
I knew it wouldn’t be much longer before she accepted my offer of employment, or any other suggestion I made. I could hear her masturbating every night now, and in the last two weeks she’d started to call out my name as she did so. I’d let Tom know after the first night and he assured me it would be only a matter of weeks now before she completely gave in to the urges he’d implanted into her mind over the months of therapy.
It was hard to resist the temptation to push things along, but Tom had been clear. Let it happen at its own pace and Cassandra would come to me in good time and never leave. Push her and she’d end up being a short term fling before she left forever.
I heard Cassandra’s heels click-clack on the tile of the kitchen and I looked up to see her coming out with two plates in her hands. The one in her right hand was piled high with chicken, vegetables, and potato. The one in her left had just a little chicken and a large pile of salad beside it.
She set both plates down and then took a seat beside me, “Looks, and smells, amazing Cassandra. You’re really become a great cook!” I complemented her.
She blushed again and titled her head down a little, “Thank you John, it’s the least I can do for you.”
I smiled back at her and cut a piece of chicken and lifted it on my fork, “Bon apatite.” I said and then plucked the chicken from my fork and ate it.
Cassandra’s eyes didn’t leave my lips until I’d swallowed it and smiled back at her. Only then did she start her own meal and we ate in silence as she made every morsel she ate an erotic adventure with her tongue and lips.
Even with Tom’s admonition on patience, it was hard not to grab her by the hair and pull her under the table to service me.
I let out a sigh, that she didn’t notice, and steeled myself. It wouldn’t be long and then she would finally be a useful member of society… or at least my household.
