Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Climbing onto the sill, I pushed on the frame until the latch came loose and then squeezed my upper body through the open window, using my hands to stop my fall onto a table below. There wasn’t much furniture in the cabin since the place had sat empty for so long. There was the wooden table and some old radio equipment—dead, I checked—plus a cot and a scuffed metal cabinet sitting on its side on the floor. I opened the cabinet, expecting to find nothing but spiderwebs. To my surprise, I found a man’s T-shirt, a pair of pants, and a plastic first aid kit. The clothes were old and a little musty, but it was better than being naked and vulnerable. I pulled on the shirt, which fell to my thighs. The pants were way too big for me, but they’d fit my dad well enough.
Come on, come on. Where are you?
I sat on the floor in the dark, dusty cabin, worried that I’d be too visible on the cot. As the wind rattled the windows, I took a moment to catch my breath. I was alive. I was safe—for now, at least.
Suddenly, everything that happened to me in the last few hours washed over me.
The terror I felt when those men beat my dad, the horror of their hands on my body, Zeb’s cock choking me—
And finally, the fact that my dad had been forced to take my virginity.
Tears poured down my cheeks. There was no stopping them, but I managed to cover my mouth with both hands to muffle the sobs.
My body could hardly contain the cocktail of emotions coursing through me. I cycled through my feelings like seasons. From anger to grief, from grief to panic, then panic to anger again. I was furious at my dad for making me leave without him. I grieved for the loss of our innocence, just as I grieved for my own gullibility and faith in people’s innate goodness. I panicked over not knowing where he was or if I would ever see him again.
Beneath the sharper emotions there oozed a thick, stodgy undercurrent of shame. Shame for doing nothing while those men groped and entered me, for getting on my knees for them. Not talking back, not fighting harder… My dad said I was brave, but I didn’t feel brave crying alone in a dilapidated tower. I felt like a coward and a victim, but worst of all, I felt like the thing those monsters had called me: a slut.
What else do you call a girl who comes while her own father screws her?
Hugging my legs, I rocked back and forth to soothe myself. The memories burned just as much coming up as they’d seared going down. I had endured the men’s perverse attention for what felt like hours by the time Duke announced he wanted my dad to be the first to have me. By then, I was already broken, helpless, and desperate for any scrap of comfort.
Of course I didn’t want to have sex with my dad. I mean, he was my dad. He’d taught me to walk and talk and tie my shoes. He’d taken me to doctor’s appointments and cheered me on at all of my track meets. I trusted him completely, and it was that trust in him that pushed me to entertain thoughts that would have otherwise sickened me. If this was going to happen, wasn’t it better to be at the mercy of someone who loved me?
That’s how I sold myself on the idea. It was the only way to get my mind and body on board with the inevitable. I convinced myself that sex with my father was the lesser evil.
So, when I felt his tongue touch down between my legs, I was already resigned to the idea that I was lucky to have him there, not the others. When he raised my ass so that he could reach every inch of me, his tongue making me feel things I’d only ever aroused in myself, I didn’t fight him. I took the pleasure he gave me, grateful to experience something other than fear and pain.
Returning the favor didn’t seem so disturbing after that. I’d been forced to suck Zeb’s cock and nearly choked to death. Having the freedom to control how hard I sucked and how deep I took my dad’s cock gave me back a sense of control, however false. Instead of feeling disgusted, I felt guilty for making him feel good, for sharpening the weapon that was meant to pierce me.
I wasn’t ready to be completely honest with myself, but if I was, I might confess that I liked how big he was. After what happened with Zeb, I should have been scared, or at least intimidated, but I knew my dad wouldn’t try to choke me. So, I let myself play and experiment, keeping track of what made him twitch and groan, and then doing more of that, but faster, tighter.