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Dave and Marcia continue.

Francesca had seen the image of herself, naked and bound! She knew she was always in her father's thoughts!

"Dear Francesca,

Oh God, I am so sorry! You are my only daughter, and I love you more than life itself. I would give my own life for you! I can only beg you to forgive me for the dark sin that has long stained my rotten soul. Sometimes, I wish I could just do what the Bible says, cut off the part that makes me sin! I recently saw a TV movie about a loving husband who was hopelessly addicted to outside sex. That's me! All my miserable life! But why have I sinned over you, my only daughter, the sweetest, most innocent young lady in my life? I suppose only the devil knows! I suspect it is because of your very innocence! One day. I came across an old photo of you, and realized how litttle time we had spent together. And, then, I started getting....feelings! I am a pitifully unworthy father! My flesh is weak! You are so beautiful! Tall, slender, golden-tanned, marvelously formed, with the most shapely long legs I have ever seen!

Your face! Oh God, your face is the most erotic part of your being! You are..... forbidden fruit! Francesca, I want you to know that I would never touch you! I would kill anyone who threatened to harm you! I know you have been having problems with your husband. God, you are so beautiful!!! If you do not excite him, he is a senseless, sexless fool! Normal, red-blooded men lust over you! My flesh, too, is weak! I suspect you will never want to see me again! I love you. I know I am sick, but mostly from guilt and sorrow! Yet, all I do is hope and pray that you will someday forgive me! I wish there were something I could do to fix this! I will love you as my daughter forever! I will love you as a woman forever!


Two weeks later, Roberto, again clad only in his boxer shorts, was at his computer when the young beauty knocked at his door. He was overwhelmed with joy at seeing his daughter, yet fearful of her Latin anger. Once again, in the summer warmth, she wore a sleeveless checkered shirt and torn blue- jean short-shorts. "Francesca," he said, "I thought I would never see you again! Can you ever forgive me?" She looked past him at the computer. "I really shouldn't have come here," she said coldly. "Do you still have that picture?"

"," Roberto lied. "I got rid of it....." Was she looking for proof to start some kind of action against him? He stared into the dark almond eyes that always excited him (along with everything else about her). Yes, I do," he admitted. "All right, let me see it," she said. Roberto felt nauseous with fear and shame.

The nude image of his bound and gagged daughter appeared on the screen. "I guess I inherited my art skills from you," she remarked matter-of-factly. (Francesca was a damned good but "starving" freelance artist.) "It really does look like I posed nude," she remarked. "My real breasts are smaller, you know...., but I guess you haven't seen all of me since I've become a woman. Do you have others pictures?"

"Please don't, Francesca!" her father pleaded. "Show me!" she insisted, as if wielding a whip over a cowering man into kinkyness. In his fifties, Roberto still looked youthful, working out and and lifting weights several times a week. Every once in awhile, he enjoyed intimacy with a much younger woman.

As he nervously clicked on each file, Francesca began kneading the muscles in his shoulders.

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