It’s such a tight fit, that even though I’m no longer a virgin and was wet—God there’s no denying it still hurts. Not nearly as much as the first time. But he’s still just too damn big. And I was wet, but not that wet.
He groans low with the first stick, then almost immediately pulls out and shoves back in.
The sting makes it impossible to feel any pleasure. I’m sure my face is a grimace, but Dad just cups my cheeks. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl. You’re making Daddy feel so good. do you have any idea what a good girl you are? You let Daddy fuck you so good.”
Then he kisses me.
His kisses are nothing like Dominick’s kisses. Dad kisses just like he screws. His tongue is forceful. Thrusting. He pulls back to kiss my lips but only because he’s half-nipping and biting. Always with teeth. Never for a second am I allowed any leeway in the kiss. He’s in command every second.
I’m left gasping and confused.
Right when the pain starts to ebb and the pleasure starts to warm in my center again, Dad pulls out. He lifts me off the bed. I stumble to my feet but Dad’s sharp voice commands, “On your knees.”
I get on my knees on the hard floor. I’m off-kilter. Like before, everything’s a haze. There’s only Dad. This moment. His voice.
“Open.”
I don’t— What does he—
His hands are on my jaw when I don’t respond quickly enough, urging my jaw open.
Oh, he means—
He’s shoving his cock in my mouth before I even finish the thought. He jams it to the back of my throat and beyond.
“Swallow it,” he orders.
I try to protest that I can’t. I don’t know. I don’t— None of this is— I can’t—
He just pulls out and pushes his cock past my lips and into my throat, choking me again.
“Godfuckingdammit,” he yells. “That’s right, gag on Daddy’s giant cock. Do you know how much I love that sound?” he asks, all but a shout. “Your innocent fucking noises drive me fucking crazy. Gag on me again,” he shoves it in and I’m gagging, choking, spitting. Oh God, I’m going to die if he keeps it up much longer.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he yells and with one more gagging thrust his cum is spurting into my mouth and spilling down onto my cheeks and chin to my chest.
“Swallow,” he pants. “Swallow it now or I’ll punish you so hard you won’t sit for a week!”
I gag and try but I just keep spitting and sputtering.
Then he reaches down and pinches my nose shut. Can’t breathe! Can’t—! Why would he—?
“Swallow!” he roars again.
But in all my panicking, I do swallow.
And when I do, it’s like a switch flips.
I swallow and gasp and lick at everything covering my lips. And then I suckle at Daddy’s cock and lick every drop from his fingers when he gathers a puddle of it from my breast and shoves it in my mouth. I have to please Daddy. I’ll do anything to please Daddy.
In the end, Daddy’s beaming at me, a halo behind him from my nightlight.
“You might just be Daddy’s perfect little girl after all. Don’t wash up until morning.”
He leaves me there just like that, heaving for breath and totally destroyed, his cum still all over me, inside and out.
Nine
I walk through school the next day in an absolute daze.
When my Early Childhood Development group leader asks me if everything’s okay, I just nod and walk away without saying anything. Usually she’s the closest thing to a friend I have at school and whenever we talk I try to leverage it into going to grab coffee. Today I literally just walk away. As if she’s a wooden post. I pretend I don’t hear her even though she was standing right in front of my face.
“Sarah?” she calls after me.
I keep walking across the quad.
Part of my mind keeps trying to force me to face what happened last night.
But the rest is sane and keeps bricking up new walls and throwing away the key as quickly as that pesky little concerned part knocks down the old ones.
Nothing happened last night.
I did not become some pathetic sex slave who humiliated herself in order to please her Daddy.
Because that is not who I am.
Not that I actually know who I am.
Nineteen, almost twenty, years on this planet and I haven’t managed to figure that out yet. I thought I could start figuring it out, but nope. That didn’t happen.
It’s just fucking pathetic no matter how you look at it.
So I won’t.
Look at it, that is.
None of it.
Self-examination is so overrated.
I will live in the moment.
And not think.
Thinking about shit is where the problem is.
And I cuss now.
That’s a new thing I do.
Because fuck it.
Fuck. All. Of. It.
Not that I’m thinking about it.