Things came to a head a week later. My large pharma client had demanded a meeting following a pretty disastrous 12 months, which they were laying some of the blame for at my door. But not just with me - they wanted my bosses there too. Translation: this was going to be bad for me. Very bad.
The meeting was to be early the next morning, and since we were all coming from outside London, Zoe announced that her, Joe and myself would be travelling up the night before.
'B warned. Joe is srsly pissed off' read the text from Zoe.
'If u have been a bad boy u will have to be punished.' read the next.
The three of us were to meet for dinner that night to discuss strategy. In truth it was the first time I'd laid eyes on Joe since Kat had started work at the agency.
'Meet me for a drink at 8pm' beeped Joe's text as I checked in that night.
He was waiting for me when I got there.
Joe Fucker is a short, paunchy man who looks like most fifty something millionaires: smug.
After a few minutes of utter banalities, he sipped his drink and got down to business.
"I just wanted to say how much I'm enjoying Kat." he said, looking unblinkingly at me and smiling. "She's got everything I look for in an assistant"
If I spoke out, Zoe would have me sent to prison and destroy my family. What could I do but sit there and watch my employer tell me he loved fucking my teenage daughter?
"That's great" I said, unsmiling.
He was mocking me. Relishing his power over me. "She does everything I tell her to. And I mean, everything. No matter how big. She just slips it into her day and never complains."
"In fact I've asked her to join me tonight. I hope that's ok?"
It wasn't a question.
"I've sent Zoe and Kat shopping to make sure they look their best tonight...for everything. They should be here soon" he looked at his watch.
Our two mistresses. Out buying suspender belts together.
When they finally turned up, every male's head in the bar turned. They looked like the hottest mother and daughter pageant contestants you ever saw. Both were poured into matching tiny electric blue dresses that barely covered their cheeks, their perfect big tits jutting through the almost see-through material.
I looked at my giggly 18 year-old daughter, looking even taller than usual on 7-inch killer heels. She was wearing lots of make-up, her naturally pouty lips glistening with fresh lip gloss, her eyes blue with plenty of eye shadow and her hair teased up into a killer do. The effect was to make her look at least 5 years older. And sensational.
"Hello daddy" she said.
"Hel-.." I began to reply before I realised, horrified. She wasn't talking to me. She was talking to Joe. She barely even seemed to know I was there. I wondered whether Joe was dosing her with anything.
I saw Zoe grin at me and I suddenly remembered her words from that first night in her office, when this whole nightmare had begun: "I'm going to ruin everything you both have together..." she had whispered in my ear (before sucking my cock while I spoke to Jemma on the phone) "...and you're going to beg me to make you do it."
"Hey Kitty-Kat" smiled Joe, patting the seat next to him. "Come sit with me."
Kat had to squeeze past him to get to the seat and as she bent forward to get past him, Joe ran his hand slowly and carefully up her inner thigh and I saw his fingers disappear between her legs. He stared straight at me as he did it and smiled.
I saw a momentary flinch from Kat but then nothing. She stayed frozen, bent over slightly in front of him, her deep, luscious cleavage inches only away from my face as Joe continued staring at me and smiling, his hand up my daughter's dress, clearly fingering her.
"How does that feel?" Joe said, staring at me. He was talking to both of us.
"It feels really good daddy" cooed Kat, oblivious to me.
I felt Zoe's hand began to rub my rock-hard cock through my trousers under the table as she down sat next to me.
"You're going to love what we bought" she whispered in my ear as I sat there, mesmerised by what I was seeing. "It's going to be a great night".
And that was the last thing I remember from the bar.