As I had guessed, it was just me in the restaurant by 11 p.m. as I sipped an after dinner complimentary brandy, the sitar music dreamily accompanying ...e. I asked for the bill and the handsome young waiter obliged. I paid by credit card but gave him a cash tip. I knew most Indian restaurant owners kept half of the tips that were included on bills paid by credit card. He smiled appreciatively, saying "Thank you sir". I told him I had been here before and knew the drill. But as he smiled, it. My Daddy is not crazy! He’s amazing! He’s my Master. My owner! You should understand that! You’re a dom! You shouldn’t judge him! There is nothing wrong with incest!”“Bess,” Daddy said, voice stern.My anger surged out of me. “You don’t deserve to be a dom! No, no, you’re a little sub! You’re her sub!” I pointed at the girl who must be his slave-wife, Lilac. “She owns you. She’s your mistress. You worship her. You do whatever she wants.” My eyes fell on Lilac. “You own him now. You’re his. More

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