The stranger’s name was Dave. He seemed nice, and Sophie was drunk, so she poured out her sorrows to him over the four or five beers he bought her.

“I moved out of home to come to the big city and be an actress,” she said, “only I’m finding it difficult to get parts, and everything is so expensive here. Luckily my uncle lives here, and he’s pretty well-off but lives alone, so he’s put me up with a room in his house until I find my feet.”

Dave smirked. “And I bet it works out all right for him, having a cute little niece slutting around in front of him, wandering around in her bedclothes…”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Gross! It’s not like that. Uncle Dave is family. And he’s a gentleman. He’s not into me.” She sighed. “But I still wish I wasn’t living there. It feels like I’ve just moved back in with my parents…”

“Of course your uncle wants to bang you,” said Dave. “I’ll bet you real money.”

She made a dismissive noise, until he pulled out a chequebook and wrote a check. There was a five figure sum on it. 

“Real money,” he said. “Maybe you haven’t recognised me, but I own a tech company you’ve heard of. You could live off this for a year, in your own place, and be free to do all the auditions you want. If you win the bet…”

If she hadn’t been drunk, she might have thought things had gotten creepy, and left. But she *was* drunk, and Dave was cute, and it was real money. “I’m listening,” she said.

“Five rules,” he said. “Three months. At the end of three months, if your uncle hasn’t impregnated you, you get the money.”

She wrinkled her nose again at the word “impregnated” – but it was so ridiculous a notion that her alarm bells didn’t trigger. “Go on.”

“One: no contraceptives. If you’ve got an implant, take it out. If you’re on the pill, stop. If anyone fucks you, you demand no condoms, even if you’re being raped.” He looked into her eyes as he spoke. Determined not to show weakness, she kept what she hoped was a defiant smirk on her face.

He looked down at his phone, scrolled through some search results, and then held it up to show her. “Two,” he said, “you redecorate your bedroom like this, and you don’t close the door, ever, no matter what you’re doing in there.” The phone showed a bedroom outfitted in princess pink – the colour suggested a little girl’s room, but the shiny sheen on the fabric was more in keeping with a prostitute. She hated it instantly – but she supposed that was the point.

“Three,” he told her, showing her more images, “you dress like this around the house.” The photos showed a range of skimpy, sexualised maid costumes, little more than lingerie. Then he showed her the actual lingerie, and it was worse – dental floss G-strings, micro-bikinis, and transparent bras and panties that hid nothing. “The maid outfits during the day. The lingerie you change into immediately after dinner and wear until after you shower the next morning.”

“I can’t afford all this,” she protested.

“It’s on me,” he replied. “I’ll have it delivered to your house.”

She supposed free clothes was nice, even if they were slutwear.

“Four,” he continued, “When you say hello or goodbye to your uncle, you hug him. If he initiates a hug with you, you kiss him on the lips. If he initiates a kiss, you moan, and kiss back, and press against him. Understand?”

“Gross,” she said again. “He won’t try to kiss me, though. I told you, he’s a gentleman.”

“Okay,” he said. “And number five, if someone initiates sex with you, you don’t have to say yes, but you don’t say no, you don’t struggle in any way that might hurt them, you don’t call for help. Once sex starts, tell them you want them to cum in your pussy. Afterwards, thank them for what they did to you, say you won’t tell anyone, and tell them they can do it again if they want to.”

She laughed. “Fuck you. This is easy money. What do you get out of it?”

“Well,” he said, “I keep pretty girls in cages in my basement as fuck-pets. If you lose, you move out of your uncle’s and into a cage…”

She laughed again. This guy was ridiculous. He sounded like he really expected that to happen.

“If you think you can win, just sign here…” he said, passing her some paper. She took it, and drunkenly scrawled her signature. Of course she would win…

Only, it didn’t seem so silly the next day. It seemed very real – especially when the bedsheets and outfits were delivered to her uncle’s house. There was a little note that said, “Five rules. I’ll know if you break them. The technology my company makes is *very* common. I can promise you that you would prefer to lose than have me catch you cheating…”

She was still reading it when her uncle found her. “What’s this, princess?” he asked her, reaching out and giving her a casual hug. Sophie went pale, remembering her rules, and hesitantly lifted her face to her uncle’s and kissed him on the lips. She felt him stiffen with surprise – and then, to her dismay and horror, she felt something in his pants stiffen also…

By the end of the first fortnight, he was raping her nightly. By the end of the first month, she was pregnant. Dave came around only hours after she had peed on the pregnancy test to congratulate her.

“Good girl,” he said. “Guess you lose this one. But I’m merciful. I like second chances. Tell you what – how about you move back in with your father, and we play this again with him for double or nothing?” …


If you like this story, you’ll love my e-book Daddy’s Girl – Stories of Spoiled Princesses and Incestuous Kink, available for only $3.99 USD at my creator site! (Click here to view in store.)


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