Now as fortune would have it, Martin (Briony's father) was a pedophile. Not that he knew it yet, of course. As far as he was concerned, the notion that children might be sexually alluring had scarcely crossed his mind. But like virtually all healthy, red-blooded males, Martin generally noticed pretty young girls in the street - often girls of early high school age - and had, from time to time he speculated as to how they might look naked. Such musings rarely surfaced much above the semi-conscious, rather animal level on which most men spent the bulk of their waking hours. Certainly he had never consciously fantasized about little girls, nor had he ever taken advantage of the rich tapestry of the modern internet to seek out revealing or pornographic images of them. Had he done so, of course, he would have easily stumbled across several thousand so-called "modeling" sites which exploited their innocent young "models" quite shamelessly.

But in the last few months, Martin had been growing more and more aware of how his daughter was blossoming into early womanhood. This manifested itself mainly as irritable comments about how she should take more care to cover herself up around the house when she was changing or that she should remember to close the door when showering. 'You're not a little girl anymore!' he'd say. But it would rarely elicit more than a coy giggle from Briony. Of course, his motivations for such comments were (as usual in a father daughter relationship) complex. Partly he was concerned for her modesty; he wanted his daughter to conduct herself in a ladylike way and not give away her favours too cheaply. But a more sinister (and no doubt largely unconscious) reason was that he didn't want to be tempted himself towards what was, after all, an attractive young feminine form. Most fathers grappled with this perplexing issue as their daughters went through adolescence. The vast majority managed to cope with it just fine. Not all, however.

When Helena had suggested a few weeks ago that they might put Briony forward as a photographic model, Martin had scarcely given the matter any thought and had speedily acquiesced to his wife's wishes. But when the first proof photos arrived from the initial studio session arrived at the house, Martin found his reaction to them rather surprising. Helena rushed back from the hallway to the kitchen clutching the brown envelope and tearing it open,

'Martin, come and see the photos! It's from Briony's first shoot at the studio.'

'oh?' he replied, non-committal as he took a gulp of his morning coffee. He continued to skim read the newspaper as his wife flicked through the thick pile photographs, cooing and hmm-ing with approval as she did so. 'Any good?' he now looked up. Helena handed him a couple of the glossy prints.

'Oh yes. Yes indeed. There are some beauties here, Martin. They really seem to have captured her sunny nature.'

'Hmm..' Martin studied the photos intently, they were more intriguing than he had imagined. 'Yes, I see what you mean. Lovely.' He looked up. 'Can I see the rest of them?'

'Yes dear, just a moment.' Helena indicated the pile she had discarded on the work surface, 'those. Those are the ones I've already looked at. Martin picked them up and started to leaf through them. He became aware of a sensation he had not experienced before as he looked at the professionally lit images of his daughter. For one thing, she looked different somehow; not quite his little girl. More detached, grown-up and yet paradoxically also childlike. It was as though this was a different version of his daughter; an idealized, model version, only there to be looked at, scrutinized, enjoyed. But when he finally came to the photoset with Briony wearing the tight, white shorts a new sensation came over him. A powerful thrill of eroticism shook him as he noticed how the taut fabric hugged and outlined the detailed contours of his daughter's crotch. In image after image as she posed for the camera, he could not take his eyes off the obvious crease between Briony's legs and her plump, pouting labia. It was as if he was in a trance and he was only just aware of his wife's voice calling him.

'Martin! What's the matter with you. We're going to be late if we don't get a move on.'

'Wha..? Oh..yes.' he responded, weakly. 'Yes, of course.' Reluctantly, he put the photos down wondering what delights there may be in store for him in the shots he had not yet seen. 'Just coming.'

As the day progressed (and it was a dull day for Martin, full of household duties) he found the images kept re-appearing in his mind, troubling him more and more. They became deeply fascinating to him both despite (and because of) the fact they were of his little Briony. What should have been feelings of innocent fatherly pride were infinitely more suspect and he was concerned that he appeared to be harboring such lascivious thoughts about his own daughter! As soon as he got home, he felt compelled to go and look at them again - this time at his leisure so he could fully 'appreciate' them. But to his frustration, they were no longer lying on the kitchen counter. No doubt Helena, in her obsessive tidying frame of mind had moved them somewhere else.

'Helena!' he called upstairs where he could hear the hoover groaning and just at that moment, Briony came bounding down the stairs two at a time.

'Hello daddy! Do you want mummy? She's hovering in the spare room.' She chirped. She went to give her father her usual affectionate cuddle, but something in Martin made him anxious at the contact all of a sudden and he recoiled from her arms. Briony - unused to such reticence - frowned in dismay and went on her way downstairs and out of the front door where one of her friends was waiting. He heard the hoover switch off, and his wife call down to him,

'Yes, Martin? Do you need me?'

But the brush with his daughter had given him second thoughts about revealing anything to Helena.

'No, dear. It's nothing. You carry on.' He returned to the kitchen and rooted around the usual 'tidying away' places for a few minutes before he found what he was looking for. He took the fat brown envelope and went through to his study. He sat down at his desk but not before closing the door behind him. One by one he went through the glossy sheets and re-acquainted himself with the images that had aroused him earlier; his daughter in a vest top and tight, white shorts. He now noticed that not only were her genitals clearly outlined, but the little bumps of her breasts were also in evidence, with the nipples quite prominent. It was probably just as well that the studio had carefully removed from the set all the super close-up 'out-takes.' To his slight disappointment, the rest of the images seemed fairly tame in comparison. Returning to the white shorts set, he selected the most revealing of the images and inserted it into his scanner. Waking up his PC he then scanned it to his hard drive at the maximum resolution. Now he had it. Safe. All to himself. Somehow the huge magnification of his daughter's most feminine place that now appeared on his screen inflamed his passions to such an extent that he surreptitiously unzipped himself and jerked on his erect cock as he looked at it. Without pausing to think about or digest what he was doing, before he could help himself he was on the very edge of his climax when he heard his wife's voice which appeared to be coming from just outside the door of his study! He barely had time to minimize the image and put his cock back in his trousers when the door opened.

'Oh sorry, Martin. I hope I'm not disturbing you.' Hunched over, he looked around, aware that his face must be flushed from his exertions. 'Are you all right, sweetie?'

'Yes, dear. Fine.' He replied. 'What is it?'

'Well, I just need you to move the barbecue, sweetie. It's in the way of my plant pots and it's too heavy for me.' Martin, was in that delicate condition where he couldn't exactly stand up without giving the game away and to make matters worse, behind his wife there now appeared Briony and her young school friend. Briony immediately came around in front of him and plonked herself on his lap, before he could do anything about it.

'Oh, err...sure. Just give me a minute would you Helena?' Briony had sat right on top of his erection and seemed rather surprised by the feel of her father's lap. She started to speak,

'What's that daddy...' But before she could finished her puzzled enquiry, Martin lifted her off him and made a move to stand up as best he could to try and get everyone out of his office.

'...come on guys,' he mock-scolded them. 'I'm in the middle of something here. Just let me finish up and I'll be right out, ok?' The best he could manage was to half stand, half crouch behind his desk (his erection was refusing to go away) and ushered them out of the door so he could compose himself. When he was finally alone again, he briefly mused on the alarming notion that he had been masturbating to images of his own daughter and worse still that she had just sat on the bump of his erection and noticed it! How on Earth was he going to explain that one to her if she chose to re-open the matter with him later on. Briony was nothing if not persistent when she had a perplexing question and he was not at all sure she would let it go, especially since she was presumably unaware of the true explanation for her father's suddenly 'lumpy' lap.

Over the next few days, Martin had trouble concentrating on his job. The images of his daughter - seen through this enticing new lens - kept returning to his thoughts. But as well as the photographs there were altogether more troubling notions. Was he a pedophile? He had certainly never thought of himself as one. Yet if he were not, why was he finding his own daughter sexually arousing? Given that she was around him all the time at home, climbing on his lap, getting changed, wearing her underwear around the house the whole time, how would he combat these various delicious temptations now that this evil seed had been planted in his consciousness? But he also thought a good deal about the studio itself. What kind of an operation was it? He had assumed (based on what his wife had told him) that it was purely and simply a clothing modeling operation hiring professional photographers to shoot children wearing the latest fashions. Of course, most of the photos in the proof set had been just that; apparel catalogue shots just as one might find in a brochure or magazine. Yet there was something particular about that one set that had caught his imagination. It couldn't just be chance could it? There was something else there; something more than just the incidentally arousing. He felt sure that the photographer was deliberately seeking the erotic angles in his young subject, that there was a purpose there. An intent to arouse the viewer. But why? Why would a professional photo studio catering to garment manufacturers feel the need to do that? Did it help sell the clothes perhaps? No, that sort of clothing was mainly bought by parents. Mothers even. Bought innocently for their little darlings. The idea of selling them using sex was crazy. Wasn't it?

As the various notions and contradictions churned around in his head, Martin felt increasingly that he wanted - needed - to know more about what was going on there. It even occurred to him that he hadn't seen all the photos they had taken of Briony. Maybe there was more? He decided he had to find out. That weekend, he found himself alone with his daughter. She had been playing on her tree swing when she came into the house for a drink. Helena was out shopping. As she poured herself a large glass of apple juice and proceeded to gulp it down, Martin quizzed her about the session at the studio. He was careful not to alarm her or arouse any anxieties by giving any hint of his suspicions Nevertheless he made sure he gave her every opportunity to voice anything she might have thought strange or uncomfortable about the photoshoot. But as far as he could discover, everything had been entirely innocent and she seemed perfectly at ease talking about it. His mind was put at rest on the matter; temporarily at least. But later that week, he felt the urge to look at the photos on his computer once more and once again felt such a powerful arousal that he had to masturbate again. This caused all his questions to re-surface and he resolved that he would have to get to the bottom of it once and for all. He would phone the studio and see what he could find out. He didn't really even know why he was so curious or what he would do with the information when - or if - he got it. He just needed to know. To satisfy his curiosity. It was as if he were trying somehow to get an angle on his own disturbing feelings for Briony by interrogating the photographers.

* * * * *

Tuesday morning had been a hectic one at the studio. They had to get their weekly catalogue proofs to their various clients and they also had both studios occupied with new shoots. It was 11:30 before Susie had even managed to make her first cup of coffee. As she stood in the small utility room off the main studio and poured the kettle into her mug, she heard her boss calling from the office.

'Susie? Susie, can you come in here a minute love?' She finished making her coffee and then went through into the office where Ray was sitting at his desk. His hand was still resting on the top of the phone receiver and he was looking up straight at her as she walked in.

'Yes, Ray?' she said. 'Everything ok? It's manic out there this morning, I can tell you.'

'Yeah,' replied Ray. He seemed distracted by something.

'So?' she asked.

'You'll never guess who I've just had on that phone.' Ray said, still fixing her with an intent gaze as she stood in the office doorway.

'Oh?' she replied. 'Who?'

'Only Martin Hawthorne.'

'Who?'

'Martin Hawthorne,' he repeated. 'Father of last week's newcomer, Briony. Remember?' Susie paused for a second and then nodded with recognition.

'Oh yeah? What did he want?' she replied. 'No problems I hope...?' Susie's face suddenly looked slightly troubled.

'Well. Funny you should say that.' Ray continued. 'That's just what I thought at first. He was asking all kinds of questions about the shoot.'

'Oh? What kind of questions?'

'Shut the door, love. And come and have a seat.' He waved to indicate the chair and Susie sat down. 'It was strange. I couldn't tell if he was pissed off or what. He was asking what kind of agency we were, like who our clients were and so on.'

'Oh? Did he sound like he was suspicious?' Her face turned more serious. 'He hasn't seen the website has he?'

'Difficult to say. I thought so at first. Not that he'd seen Little Darlings - he didn't mention that - but that he was suspicious in some way.'

'What do you mean?' she prompted.

'He was asking what sort of photos we generally take, angles, styles and that. Whether the girls ever minded or if parents caused a fuss.'

'Jeez! Certainly sounds like he's suspicious.'

'Well, yes. Exactly. That's what I thought. I told him we worked for clothing companies and fashion magazines, but as he kept probing I was getting ready to defend us against any accusations he might throw.'

'You told him we had full cooperation from parents, right?' she added.

'Yeah. Of course. I also asked him if he'd seen Briony's proofs and if he had any problems with them.'

'And...?'

'Yes, he'd seen them. And he was fine about them.'

'So what was his issue?' asked Susie.

'Well that's just it. I couldn't really figure him out. He didn't seem angry or anything. More curious.'

'Hmm...strange.'

'Yeah. There's more. So anyway, he started taking about Briony's pictures and how there was one set in particular that he'd liked.'

'Right? Which set was that?'

'The set that Jim 'enjoyed' so much. Remember you told me how you and him went through them on the computer?'

'Oh that set. White shorts, blue vest top?' She grinned. 'Close ups..?'

'Right.' He replied. 'That set.' Susie was looking quizzically at him and Ray started to grin knowingly.

'What?'

'So he starts going on about how much he ..err... enjoyed looking at that particular set. '

'No! Seriously? You mean in a pervy way?'

'Yeah! Absolutely!'

'My God! Are you serious? What was he saying?'

'Oh all about how the tight shorts showed off her figure and made her look really sexy and so on.'

'Sexy! He said that?'

'Yeah. I wasn't sure how to react to be honest. I haven't had that from a parent before!'

'Well no. Quite.' She paused, looking at the floor. The she returned her gasze to Ray. 'So what did you say?'

'Well, I obviously had to play it carefully. I wasn't sure if he was trying to trap me. So I basically just said yeah, sure she's a cute kid and how she looked nice in the clothes and so on.'

'And how did he react to that?'

'Well, he asked me if we could take some more risqué pictures of her.'

'Really? He said that?'

'Well. Can't remember the exact word. Maybe he said 'revealing'. I'm not sure. He also asked if he could come along to the next shoot with her instead of the kid's mother.'

'And what did you say?' Ray looked down and inspected his fingernails.

'To be honest, I didn't know what to say. I was a bit thrown. I stalled him and said I was in the middle of something, but I'd phone him back.'

'I see... intriguing.' Susie took another gulp of her coffer and gazed at the ceiling in thought before continuing. 'Course this could be an opportunity.'

'An opportunity? How so?'

'Well if the guy is a bit of a pervert, it could be quite useful. He could bring the kid along and encourage her. We could get a lot further with a model when a parent is behind the whole thing. You know. Being supportive.'

'Hmm...' Ray considered this a moment. 'Yes. I guess so. You mean he could put her at her ease while we get her to pose in more and more dirty ways?'

'Absolutely!' Susie added eagerly. 'It could be great! The dad could basically be leading her on saying how it's all perfectly normal and that it's what proper grown up celebrity models do. Stuff like that.' Ray was considering this, but then added in a slightly more anxious tone.

'But what if he's not? Couldn't it backfire on us?'

'What if he's not what?' asked Susie.

'What if he's not really a pervert. What if he's got suspicions and is just trying to trap us into something...?' Susie shrugged.

'Well it's possible, I guess. But it doesn't sound all that likely. We could play it by ear with him. Get him in here and gradually spice things up a bit.'

'Yeah, I guess.'

'We'd have to talk Jim through it all, of course. So he knew what the score was.'

'Ok.' Ray seemed reassured.

'And you and I could be on hand to observe, as it were. At the first sign of anything amiss, we could just cool things right down again. I'm sure it would be fine.'

'Ok, if you say so.'

'I do.' She added. 'I don't think we can afford to pass this opportunity up.'

'Ok, then. Sounds like a plan!' Ray smiled at Susie as she stood up to leave. As she opened the door, she turned around.

'Ray?'

'Yep,' replied Ray curtly (he had already started to rifle through some unpaid invoices.

'Why not give him a call back right now and suggest he brings her in?'

'Yes. Will do. Definitely.' Ray picked up the phone and started tapping out the Martin Hawthorne's direct office line. He waited a few moments under the receiver was picked up at the other end. 'Hello? Is that Martin? - Hi. It's Ray here. - Yeah. From the studio. Remember?'

* * * * *

Martin had become quite the obsessive recently. He pondered this change in himself as he rifled through the family laundry basket in search of something very specific. Whist it had been a rather shocking thing to discover about his sexuality at first, he seemed to have grown rapidly accustomed to it. So much so in fact that it now scarcely troubled him. The previously guilty feelings had given way to deviousness and scheming. And whenever he had any time to himself these days, his sole aim was fuelling the urges he felt towards his little girl. The photos on his computer now became so familiar to him from repeated viewings that he knew virtually every pixel. But he needed more. He wanted to see more of her young body, to feel it, to ...

He had discovered what he was after. A small pair of white cotton panties; the motif on the front far too innocent for them to belong to Helena. Besides, they would have been too small for his wife's wider, maturely adult hips. Martin turned the tiny undergarment inside out and inspected the panel of the gusset. To his delight, he saw a whitish streak of dried, crusty material. He picked a small flake of it off and put it in his mouth. It tasted very salty, but the flavor wasn't the point. He felt a powerful jolt - as if he had received an electric shock. The very thought that he was tasting some of his daughter's vaginal secretions produced an intense reaction in him and he instinctively gripped his swelling cock through his pants as he proceeded to lick at the stained material in his desire to consume it all. The very wrongness of it all made it a potent and heady drug and he couldn't get enough.

As the days worse on, he found that was becoming more eager than ever to cuddle Briony and he took every chance to have her sit on his lap. She -in her innocent delight - thought all her Christmases had come at once. She loved her father dearly with that curious combination of chaste childish affection, hero worship and romantic adoration so characteristic of young girls. For her, he represented - in the way that most fathers do - her prototype boyfriend and she eagerly took any opportunity offered to her to both give and receive physical contact. The fact that his touch now tended to be rather more specifically focused than it had previously been and that sitting on his lap now invariably elicited a powerful erection went apparently unnoticed by Briony. She just cooed and cuddled, stroked and kissed her beloved daddy in a way that only exacerbated Martin's sensual desire for her. He would often grab hold of her, throw her on the bed and engage in what they called 'tickle war.' Each had to inflict on the other sufficient breathless hilarity to provoke a submission. Whilst Briony went for the traditional targets of ribs, armpits and neck, Martin tended to 'accidentally miss' ; his fingers landing instead on breasts and crotch. He was of course always careful to restrict such gropings to occasions when Helena wasn't around lest he arouse any suspicions.

Of course, it was perfectly possible that Briony was all too well aware of the tender parts he was touching. After all, adolescent girls have sexual feelings too and she was no stranger to exploring and indulging them in the privacy of her own bed (sometimes even to the point of soreness). Having her erogenous zones stimulated 'innocently' by her beloved father may well have been not only acceptable to her but overtly pleasurable. In her pubescent imagination fatherly love, affection, cuddles, romanticism and emerging sexuality were all jumbled up into one amorphous whole in any case. Whatever her views on the matter, she made no objection to these liberties and so Martin eagerly indulged himself.

One his favourite scenarios was weekend mornings. Helena was an early riser and was usually up before eight to start her domestic chores. Martin on the other hand liked to doze in bed and Briony (from a very young age) had always seen this as the perfect opportunity to climb into the bed beside him for some 'snuggles.' Of course, this hitherto innocent activity now took on a rather different meaning for him. Martin preferred to sleep naked and Briony wore only a long t-shirt in bed, so there was very little separating their respective genitals when they did cuddle each other. He loved to hug her 'face to face' and feel the little mound of her pubis against his cock. His erection could not possibly have escaped her notice, yet she seemed unconcerned by it as he pressed it against the front of her body. Neither of them mentioned it anyway. It was as if she accepted it as a welcome guest between them. Martin would hold her to him and surreptitiously cup her small breasts whenever he could. Briony for her part would giggle and kiss his face and whisper her girlish secrets to him. They looked for all the world as those they were lovers rather than family members. Whatever these intimacies meant for her, she gave every sign of enjoying them just as much as he did - the only difference being that she didn't have to dash to the bathroom and masturbate when things got a bit too cosy!

It was against this backdrop of their changed relationship that Martin proposed to Briony the next visit to the studio. She was predictably excited by the idea; seemingly all the more so now that it would be her father accompanying her. She looked forward to showing off to him how pretty and 'grown up' she could be. In her romanticized world, she doubtless considered he would fall in love with her even more when he saw her in such a glamorous context. Of course, this conception of hers; her eagerness to impress, delight and entice him made it all the more straight forward for Martin to realize his plans.

The conversation with the guy at the studio had confirmed his view that they were not all they claimed to be. Of course, there had been no admission as such. But nevertheless there was something in the tone of their phone conversation - particularly the second one - that led Martin to believe that 'mutual interests' might easily be served by the next photographic session. He reckoned he was a pretty good judge of character. And besides, men had a certain coded way of communicating with each other about sexual matters and he was quite sure he had picked up the signals loud and clear. He had been formulating his strategy in the days leading up to the studio visit and he had decided he was going attempt to lead the shoot in the direction of swimsuits and underwear. He phoned ahead to ensure that the studio had the right selection of items for her to wear and while doing so (he made sure he spoke to the same guy, Ray) he managed to drop very large hints about the nature of what he expected to see. For his part, he assured Ray that he would do his utmost to put Briony at her ease and that he felt sure they would both get 'what they wanted.' Of course, the 'what' had not been spelled out as such, but each was sure he had read the other correctly. Meanwhile, Martin decided to go to work setting up Briony's expectations. He wanted to leave nothing to chance and so he sought out a selection of the more sensual and suggestive imagery from his wife's extensive collection of fashion magazines. He sat down with Briony and leafed through the pre-chosen pages explaining to her that although these were adult 'lady' models there was no reason why she - now that she was such a big, grown up girl - shouldn't have some very similar shots taken and look just as pretty and sexy. He had no qualms about using the word with her. Even a relatively innocent and protected middle class girl like Briony lived in the highly sexualized world of semi-pornographic music videos and inappropriate teenage agony columns. Society had done much of the work for him, he mused as she cooed and sighed in admiration at the leggy, sensuous forms in lingerie.

'Do you really think I am as pretty as these ladies, daddy?' she looked up at him plaintively. Martin put down the magazine for a second and gently took hold of her shoulders,

'My darling, of course you are! And when we get you to the studio, they will dress you up in the most lovely, sexy clothes - just like these ladies. And they'll put some make up on you...'

'Make-up!?' she started. 'But mummy would never let me wear make-up, would she?'

'Well now, that's just it, honey.' Martin tipped his head forward and looked up at her with a more earnest expression as if he were about to disclose something secret. 'I suggest we don't tell mummy about this.'

'Not tell mummy?' This new development seemed puzzling and not a little disconcerting to Briony. 'Why not?'

'Well...' he paused before considering as if to reinforce the impression he was confiding in her, 'it's just that we don't want to make her jealous do we?' She considered this. Martin continued. 'If she thinks that you are being all dressed up and becoming a sexy and glamorous model, she might think she's not as pretty as you. Or even that I don't like her as much as you because of it.'

'Oh..' was all she replied, not entirely sure what else to say.

'I really think it's for the best, sweetheart. After all, you don't like it when mummy and I fight, do you?' Briony was shaking her head vigorously at this notion.

'No, definitely not!' she exclaimed, 'Ok, daddy, if you say it's for the better, we won't tell mummy. It can be our secret.' And she snuggled up closer to him and continued to flick though the lingerie images with him, feeling rather pleased to have something so grown up to be able to share exclusively with her father. Martin now reached down for the other set of magazines he had carefully selected. The ones with a variety of supermodel posing naked. He would need all the persuasive powers at his disposal for this...

...to be continued