Daddy Fucked My Ass At The Opera House

The grand opera house was a cathedral of music, crystal chandeliers and red velvet as far as the eye could see. My father Arthur had a private box, the best view in the house. I wore a black gown that brushed the floor, and he wore a tuxedo that made him look like a man who owned the world. The overture swelled, the soprano hit her first high note, and beneath the cover of darkness and music, his hand found my thigh. The performance on stage was nothing compared to ours.