Daddy was fuming. He must have told Madison a million times before to put her dirty clothes in the laundry basket, what he believed was a simple enough task even for her. Instead he once again found them dismissively strewn across her bedroom floor and unmade bed. He couldn’t help but think it was now a deliberately stubborn act of rebellion. His once agreeable, lovable step daughter had become an untameable brat. She never made it through “sweet” sixteen. Instead, by nineteen, he had watched her regress to a foot stomping, bone idle, spoiled princess. The bomb site that was her room was only partial evidence of this.
He angrily swiped up her garments one by one, shaking his head and cursing under his breath at the sheer audacity of the girl. He also questioned, with a sinking despair, her countless transgressions reeling through his mind, where he had failed as a father figure. He hated that she made him ask such self deprecating questions.
But this boiling anger quickly translated into sexual heat, as it so often did. He always had a weakness for beautiful young women, and Madison subconsciously played on this weakness every time she was in his presence. He realised that the smell of her room, her unwashed sheets and days old dirty underwear, was seeping into his bloodstream.