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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1668434
by Katya
Rated: XGC · Short Story · Adult · #1668434
It happened again...
It’s happened again. I don’t know if it was a good or a bad thing…and at this point, I don’t care anymore. It’s starting to feel good for me. I can’t just summarize what He did…I have to give every gory detail about the occurrence. Call it venting. Call it therapy. I just need to let someone know so that it doesn’t devour my soul. Although my innocence has been taken from me, a part of me feels like I deserve it. But let me stop rambling on, and begin my story.

It happened a few days ago. Daddy had come home from the hospital. He had just had surgery on His right shoulder to correct it. He told me what He had gotten fixed, but I zoned out at all of the medical terms He had spewed at me. All I got was that there was a ball out, and that it had to be returned to the socket, whatever that means. He had been bed-ridden this whole time, with nothing but the T.V. and his pills to keep Him company. At the same time, spring break had started. I wanted to do normal things high school girls my age did: go to the mall, hang out with friends, go to the movies then talk about boys, etcetera. Unfortunately for me, that didn’t happen. Daddy wanted me to stay by His side so that I could take care of Him.

During this time, my mom was out of town for some psychiatric conference. She was always out of town, so I was used to this.

I was used to it. But I hated it. It meant being alone with Him.

Thinking back to that occurrence, I feel my stomach churning, and bile rising up my throat. Sadly, I also felt the core in between my legs tingling. It angers and shames me to think about it…but I know I have to finish this.

It was night, and I was making dinner for Daddy and myself. Nothing fancy, just something simple and out of the freezer. I’m not a very good cook, so I made something fool-proof. I was standing in the kitchen over the stove, stirring up some Bertolli pasta dinner, when I heard footsteps. It sounded clumsy, and I knew He was coming. He staggered into the dining area, which was attached to the kitchen, and sat down at the dinner table. Daddy looked a frightful mess. He was topless, only wearing a black, blue, and red checkered pajama pants. His short straight blond hair was tousled, slightly greasy; evidence that He hadn’t showered in a day or two. He hunched on the dinner table, took a deep breath, and exhaled sharply, His bandaged arm/shoulder moving as He breathed. His face looked tired, worn…He looked older and more fragile than I have ever seen Him. I almost felt sorry for Him.
I looked back down on the pasta I was cooking. The ice particles were starting to melt. It just needed to be covered and simmer for about ten minutes. I walked over to the dish washer, and bent over to pick up the lid for the frying pan. I then covered the pasta, and reduced the heat to medium-low. Afterwards, I walked over to my Daddy to see if I could make Him feel better. With Him being in this condition, I figured He should be safe.

Or so I believed…

I walked over to Him, and sat down next to Him on the dinner table. With my left hand, I caressed the side of His cheek, along with His strong jaw line. Daddy was a very handsome man. I could see how my mother fell in love with Him. He used to be so kind and gentle. He would never have been able to hurt even a bee. Looking at Him now, I missed the kind of man He used to be, and out of nowhere a memory popped up. I was about five years old. I ran home crying because some boys in the neighborhood didn’t want to play with me because I was a girl, and they kept teasing me that I had cooties. I ran to my Daddy. He carried me, and assured me that one day, boys like that will be chasing me to play with them. At the time, I didn’t know what He meant, but it felt good and comforting being in His arms. After I had calmed down, He carried me over to the piano, and played something while keeping me encapsulated in His arms. As He played, I drifted off to sleep. After time had passed, He carried me to my room, and tucked me into bed. He kissed my forehead, and told me that I was His favorite little girl, and that He would always love me, even if boys made me cry. I fell asleep almost immediately, wishing that one day, I would meet a boy like my Daddy.

Looking at Him from the dinner table, I felt pain envelop my heart. I miss the man who once promised that He would love me even if boys made me cry. I missed the man who wiped my tears, and held me in His arms as He played beautiful music on our vintage Steinbeck, with me falling asleep. I missed my Daddy. Thinking of the man who disappeared only to be replaced by this monster brought tears in my eyes. I dropped my hand from His face, stood up, and walked over to the stove. I pulled the lid off of the frying pan to look at my cooking, and noticed that although all the ice had melted, the sauce for the pasta hadn’t thickened yet. I increased the heat to medium, and placed the lid back on. As I stepped back away from the stove, I bumped into something behind me. Grateful that I wasn’t carrying anything that would have ended being dropped on the floor, I turned around and came face to face with my Daddy’s bare chest. I looked up, and saw a look in His eyes that I had seen only twice before.

Startled, I looked away, and held my hand over my chest to calm the beating of my surprised heart. Daddy then placed a finger underneath my chin, and urged me to look up into His eyes. It was The Look. That look frightened me. I can’t describe it, but it looked animalistic, almost predatory-like. It was as if He was on the hunt, and He had caught His prey. I wanted to move away, but I knew that if I backed away from Him, I would end up burning myself from the stove. So I stood still, and stared back into His eyes. They had transformed from warm, inviting blue to almost glacial. Cold chills ran up and down my spine. It was going to happen again, and I knew it. This is hard for me to admit, but a part of me wanted it to happen.

Daddy pulled my face towards His, and kissed me. It wasn’t a soft, fatherly kiss. It was hungry, lustful, and primal. He forced my mouth open to receive His tongue. I wanted to fight Him, but my body responded to His touch. The moment His tongue touched mine, I melted in His arms. Daddy took His hand away from under my chin, and wrapped it around my waist. He held me steady as His tongue darted in and out of my mouth, slowly twisting and dancing with my tongue. This was wrong, and I knew it in my mind. My Daddy had raped me, and stole my virginity, and He was going to defile me again tonight! But for whatever reason, all common sense left me as His tongue ravaged my mouth. I stood there as limp as a raggedy doll, only being held up by His good arm.

Slowly, Daddy pulled His lips from mine, but I hungered for more. I felt so ashamed of how I was feeling, and how warm my body had gotten from just a simple kiss from Him. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell Daddy that it wasn’t the other boys making me cry now, that it was Him. I wanted Him to be like that Daddy I knew He was, and not this monster taking advantage of me. But I kept silent. A thought occurred to me at that moment; maybe if I was good, then He would stop. Na├»ve of me to think of it now, but at that moment, it made sense.

Daddy pulled me away from the stove, and turned off the burner that was heating our dinner. I started to protest, but Daddy just shushed me. Then He ushered me away from the kitchen, and into the living room. He led me to the larger couch, and shoved me hard. Feeling slightly winded from being pushed to the couch, I looked up at Him pleadingly. I looked up in His eyes, and saw something frightening. My Daddy wasn’t in there. The man who loved and cherished me was gone, replaced by this evil entity standing in front of me. My gaze started to travel southward, to His chest, then His strong stomach, and finally rested on His crotch. Why my eyes went there, I’m not entirely sure, but I saw evidence of this monster’s lust. Daddy was hard. I knew at that point that there was no turning back now.

I quickly decided that I wasn’t going to fight Him this time. I will just do whatever He wants me to do. At least, it won’t hurt me. Daddy grabbed me hard by the hair, and shoved my face in His crotch. He was already hard. His pajama pants were thin and flimsy, so His erection was easily decipherable. I pulled His pants down, and looked at it. It was big, long and thick. I had been frightened of it before, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore. Daddy’s member had already taken my innocence. There was no use fighting it. I opened my mouth, and Daddy shoved His member down my throat, gagging me. The tears I had been hiding sprang forth as His cock slid down my throat. I pushed Him away, and He held my head tighter. Daddy pulled my hair, and forced me to look up at Him. He then said that if I didn’t resist, He wouldn’t resort to harsher methods. I nodded in submissive compliance, and did as He instructed. I relaxed my throat, giving Him full access as He fucked my mouth. After a few thrusts, He ordered me to wrap my lips around my teeth, making an “O” with my mouth, He told me to suck his member. Slightly confused, I looked up at Him. Daddy then said that I should pretend that I was eating a lollipop, or a Popsicle. So then, I started sucking. Hard. As if my life depended on it.

Daddy must have liked what I was doing, because His hand that was tangled through my hair loosened up, and His head was arched back. I didn’t know if I was proud that I was making Him feel good, or if I hated myself for liking how His cock felt in my mouth. It was smooth and hard and the same time. His taste and smell intoxicated me. Watching Him enjoy what I was doing was making me throb. I wanted my Daddy happy, and I wanted Him to love me again. So I continued.

After a few minutes, He pulled my head away from His cock. I looked up at Him with tears running down my face. He bent over to give me a slight peck on my mouth, then ordered me to take off all of my clothes. So I took off my oversized t-shirt, and then pulled off my boy shorts. My body was still small. My breasts hadn’t grown much, and if I looked at a mirror, I somewhat resembled a prepubescent boy. Daddy didn’t care. He turned me around, and stuck a finger inside my most sensitive spot. I tensed up, anticipating pain. I was surprised when pleasure I had never felt before took over my body. Daddy wriggled His finger inside me, and I had the most incredible urge to pee. It felt so wonderful! I unabashedly grinded my hips on my Daddy’s hand, and I heard animalistic growls coming from the pit of my stomach. My body wanted it.

Soon, Daddy started to push inside me with His cock. Although it hurt, this time the pain was bearable. Daddy knew that, and finally shoved all of His cock inside me. Feeling the burning pain ripple throughout my body, I screamed, and asked Daddy if He could stop. All I got in response was an evil laughter. He wanted me in pain! Soon, He began pumping into me. The pain was too much. I started crying. Not only because it hurt me physically, but because it also felt so good. I was being ripped open by my own Daddy, and I liked it.

Just as soon as He placed His cock inside me, I felt the pain subsiding, giving way to the most delicious pleasure I have ever felt. My cries of pain quickly gave way to my cries of pleasure. Sure enough, I started meeting Daddy’s powerful thrusts. I wanted it all. With each thrust, I felt something building from the pit of my stomach. It was incredible! But just as soon as it started, it also ended. I felt Daddy’s cock grow larger inside me, and then I felt pulsating. Out of nowhere, it suddenly felt warm and wet. Daddy had ejaculated inside me!

After He finished, He pulled away from me. I was left on the couch, bent over, with His spooge slowly trickling out of me. Slightly perturbed, highly mortified, I just stayed at my position. After a few minutes, Daddy yelled at me to finish cooking. We then ate in silence. After we finished dinner, He went back upstairs, and I stayed in the kitchen to clean up. After I was done, I walked up into my room, took off all of my clothes, and got into bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I started crying. For what, I wasn’t too sure off at the time…and even know, I'm not too sure. Soon after, I fell asleep.
I just had to tell someone. I couldn’t carry the burden on my own.
© Copyright 2010 Katya (kt_aug85 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1668434