were his first drink in days. His hand travels down my body until he finds my opening.
“You want me?”
I did not respond to the question. Do I want him? No…Yes…How am I supposed to feel? I’m supposed to hate him…But, I don’t…not entirely…he is my father. It’s encoded in our DNA, that all children love their parents.
Aren’t all little girls from birth expected to love their daddies? Go give your daddy a kiss. Go give your daddy a hug. Go sit on daddy’s lap. You’re daddy’s little girl. Where is the warning label that list your daddy’s potential flaws? What could a little girl do if she gets a defective daddy, one that take liberties when there should be none? Where is the disclaimer for my defective daddy….I had none! Where was my speech from my mommy, telling me that my daddy was not supposed to touch me there? Where was the speech that said, the touches are deceptive and you most definitely will feel pleasure there?
Does that make me as sick as him? Am I as much to blame for these encounters as he is?
I was brought back from my inner debate by a suddenness of pain. I knew what he was capable of; I should not have kept him waiting. He shoved not one, not two, not three, but all four fingers inside of me, to the knuckle joints. The tears that I desperately tried to hold back could not be held any longer. After I clearly gave the reaction that he was seeking, he withdrew from my body. Next, the sock was removed, but I remained bound. My role tonight is to be the character he has taught me to be…his submissive lover.
“Will you answer my questions now or will you continue to make noise?”
“Yes…No.” I responded in a choked voice.
“Yes…No. What are you saying yes too and which question is no, Amber?” Smiling, he asked his question.
“Yes, I will answer your questions. No, I will not make noise. I will only make noise if you want me too.”
“Good Girl!” He lowered himself on me. He slowly, gently glided his shaft into my opening. My legs naturally wound around his waist.
“Good Girl! You know what daddy likes. You know what daddy wants. ” He said in a strained voice.
“Yesss!” This was my only response.
How could I not, know what he wants? How could I not, know what he likes? He beat and choked his likes and dislikes in me the whole six months of my futile fighting and screaming fits.
He, like me, knew my likes and dislikes. He slowly, gently glided his shaft in and out of me. He rode my body at this slow pace until my breathing sped up. He knew I was close, so close. He released his grip on my waist and replaced his hand over my mouth. His pace started to pick up, he was pounding my body relentlessly. There were no more gentle strokes, the time has passed.
“Come for me!” His voice was crazed and strained.
His hand tightened across my mouth. Just his words made me explode. My inner muscles clenched him tight inside of me. He was my prisoner, he was at my mercy. My scream of release was muffled by his hand over my mouth. His guttural release followed soon after.
Afterwards, I lay here wishing he would hurry and extract himself from my room. I’m in need of a shower. It’s essential that I remove his scent from my skin. As I lay here, with the guilt of this sexcapade riding me strongly, I start to pick myself apart once