Prologue

Morgan Masters (he used the name Morgan Masterful on the Internet) eventually returned to the website where he'd first seen Helga offered as a slave.

By taking Helga he'd gained access to her beautiful blonde daughters, Tilly and Mia. Now, having used them for the best part of a year, he was curious as how much money they might fetch if he offered them for sale. He was not exactly weary of their charms but that part of human nature that makes men wonder if the grass is greener elsewhere was a strong feature in Morgan's personality.

Perhaps (if the price was right) he would part with Tilly and keep Mia.

Mia had been the most biddable from the very beginning, prepared to accept him as her step father and call him Daddy, show him some affection. Although it was still fun sometimes trying to overcome Tilly's resistance, there were occasions when he might have gained as much satisfaction from flogging a carcass of butcher's meat. He looked for something in a girl's eyes when he tortured her: terror, excitement, arousal or a combination of these feelings. Tilly's beautiful blue eyes registered no emotion and this was disconcerting to say the least.

Morgan was excited once he got back to the bondage site.

He'd forgotten just how thrilling it could be communicating with other masters to discuss their slaves' merits and demerits and compare notes on training methods and sanctions. Sometimes he was in direct touch with a self-proclaimed submissive begging to be owned, or at least to be given a period on probation (he always insisted on that) but the trouble was these women often made exaggerated claims about their masochistic desires and pain thresholds and careful screening was necessary.

He knew from bitter experience that these sluts could be a massive disappointment. In his early days as a master, Morgan had invited a number of white girls to his home only to discover they baulked at anything stronger than OTK spankings. As a black man he found many white women (he always selected Caucasians) fantasied about the sexual prowess and potency of black masters to the point that he felt sorry for any black dude with just an average sized tool.

On the whole it was better to deal with the owners rather than the slaves. Of course there were fakes and weirdoes among their number but Morgan found most could be trusted to tell the truth.

Experienced masters (and it was easy to spot the novices) tended to post short but very explicit messages because they knew exactly what they were looking for. One message caught Morgan's eye.

Lifestyle master looking for mother and daughter to live in and contribute. Short and to the point though there were questions to answer, certainly enough to arouse interest.

It occurred to Morgan that if he got Helga back from Alf at the King's Head he would be in a position to negotiate. Helga and Tilly Miller, an attractive combination. He would have to compensate Alf who used Helga to entertain the soldiers from the nearby camp but he would get a good price for Tilly who was only nineteen. It would be good to offload Tilly. It wouldn't be deceit on his part; another master might get more out of her. Like her twin, she was striking to look at, tall, athletic, blonde (inherited from her German mother) with big boobs (another of her mother's attributes). The couple who wanted a mother and daughter would get a teenaged girl to break in and train and a mother who already knew how to work hard as a skivvy and how to please by catering for every kink in the book, surely an attractive package.

When Morgan made contact with the Dom he discovered he was a black African and he was looking for a mother and daughter who were white. The man already had a daughter by a previous white partner but the twenty two year old girl had gone back to Africa and Toby was looking for a surrogate.

As Morgan expected Alf did drive a hard bargain even though Helga was no spring chicken and, not to put too fine a point on it, a raddled three-hole slut. Having seen their pictures and gained detailed information from Morgan, Toby was willing to pay the asking price for the two women.

Chapter 1

When she acquired an African step father (which was what he called himself) with the embarrassing name of Toby, Tilly was not pleased. She wasn't going to let on she missed her real father because Barry Miller had had so little to do with her, being away in the Army, and, in the end, he'd rejected her for a tart called Melissa.

Her mum, Helga, seemed impressed with the new man in her life despite the strange arrangement that established their relationship with the result that Tilly felt emotionally neglected by both her real parents.

Toby wasn't a man to slip into the background. He was a dominating presence by virtue of his size and his personality. He was well over six feet and heavily built without being fat, had a deep sonorous voice, and a stern but handsome face. He was the preacher in the happy clappy church of some obscure sect now attended by Helga who obviously felt she'd landed the star prize in the lottery. His profession was another reason for Tilly to be embarrassed and she didn't let on to any of her friends.

From the first day Toby tried to establish his authority over Tilly with a set of strict rules which Tilly felt obliged to resist. Part of her acknowledged that discipline was just what she needed (her father hadn't even attempted to provide it) but another part of her resented her 'step father's' attempt to take over her life, after all she was nineteen and earning a wage and, most of all, he wasn't her real father.

Toby was fond of delivering sermons in the house as well as the church and when Tilly was around the theme was usually the loose morals of the younger generation and the need to stop the rot through stricter parenting, proper discipline in schools, and regular church attendance.

After much nagging from her mother, Tilly eventually went to a Sunday service. There were only a handful of white folk present but her mother had pride of place in the front pew; this meant Tilly had to sit where everyone could see her. When her step father started to preach Tilly felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Toby's voice rang out and seemed to fill the building and the effect of his words was to whip the congregation into frenzy. People were standing up shouting Hallelujahs and clapping their hands above their heads and generally sounding hysterical. When her mum joined in waving her hands about and praising the lord Tilly wanted a hole to swallow her up but that prayer wasn't answered.

When the service ended Toby was surrounded by numerous excitable black women of all ages while Helga stood a little apart with arms folded and beaming all over her face at her husband's popularity. Her expression said, 'You all want him but I've got him. I'm the one he fucks.' Toby told everyone that Helga was his new wife. It was clear his congregation recognized charisma and magnetism in her step father and he was much admired particularly by women.

It turned out that Toby had a model in mind for how Tilly should behave, his own daughter called Dolly who'd gone back to Africa after going to university in London. To Tilly it seemed Dolly must be the perfect daughter who always did what her father said. When Tilly moved into Toby's house with her mum she was given 'Dolly's bedroom' and some of her clothes were still there hanging in the wardrobe and in the chest of drawers. It seemed Dolly was a paragon. By all accounts she was pretty (but not vain of course) intelligent, sensible, and devout.

When Tilly asked her mother about Dolly Helga said she must have gone back to Africa awhile before she'd met Toby because she'd only seen photographs. When Tilly saw the pictures a pretty white girl hair stared back at her but she didn't look happy. Tilly asked if father and daughter used Skype to stay in touch her mum said she's never seen it happen. This struck Tilly as odd if he loved her as much as he claimed.

Tilly asked how come she was white and Helga explained he'd been married to a white woman out in Africa and she'd had a child with someone else so Dolly was only a step daughter. It sounded to Tilly like Toby was collecting white step daughters.

As far as keeping in touch was concerned it wasn't that Toby didn't use a computer. It wasn't an invention of the devil as Tilly might have expected him to say because he was against a lot of things like clubs and discos and cinemas and ten pin bowling and almost everything else Tilly and most young people enjoyed.

One night when she came home late from a night out with her friends from work Toby was waiting up.

'You look like a whore in those clothes. I wouldn't have let you go out if I'd seen what you were wearing.'

'Mum saw what I had on.'

'I'm surprised she didn't tell me.' Toby looked furious and Tilly knew her mother was in for a tongue lashing at least. 'What's wrong with this outfit anyway?'

'It's too low cut. Boys will have been staring at your breasts all night.'

'I don't think so. Tits are not all they think about.'

'There's no need to talk like a slut as well as look like one.'

'You should see what other girls are wearing.'

'I'm not interested in other girls. You're my daughter.'

'Step daughter,' Tilly emphasized.

'As long as you live in my house I'm responsible for you.'

'Perhaps I should find a place of my own.'

'You wear too much make-up. You don't need all that lipstick.'

'Is that a compliment to my natural ruby red lips or you mean I look like a tart.'

'You don't need it and it makes you look cheap.'

'Like a tart.'

'Thanks a bunch.'

Toby seemed to soften. 'Come here Tilly.'

Tilly obeyed but shrank from him when he eased her onto his knee. He stroked her strawberry blonde hair with its hint of red. 'You're very hot and I don't want you taken advantage of.'

Tilly was surprised to hear him use the word 'hot' in this way and couldn't help smiling. It just wasn't a word Toby would be expected to use.

'That's better angel,' he said. 'I don't want you to be scared of me.'

He could tell she was tense but the sudden intimacy was more intimidating than his aggression though somehow it was not as creepy as when Morgan did it. 'Why don't you cut your hair short?' He grabbed handfuls of her hair to show what he meant. 'Don't hide your lovely face.' She was lost for words which was unusual because she prided herself on always giving back as good as she got.

'You're not scared of me, are you?'

'No, but I don't like it when you have a go at me. You're always comparing me with Dolly and making me feel like I'm crap.'

'There you go again. There's no need for crude language.'

'I suppose Dolly never swore.'

'As a matter of fact she didn't.'

Tilly tried to get more comfortable on his lap but he set her down abruptly. 'It's late,' he said and kissed the top of her head. 'You should be in bed.'