Daphne’s Past

This particular entry is written from Daphne’s abusive past. Since then, she has gotten over it and am working in a reputable HR company.

Part 1 | Part 2

When I was ten, it was the first time my step-father had came into my room to sleep with me. I didn’t officially recognise him as my dad, but I could tell he was doing his best to get accepted. His friendly appearance actually made me felt awkward, like a stranger trying to be your best friend overnight. Though I can’t remember the exact words he said, the things he did to me stayed as vivid till today.

‘Can daddy sleep with you tonight? Mummy is overseas.’ He said in a tone that was so causal as if it was illegal to sleep with me when mum was around. Not suspecting anything, I replied ‘anything’ so I could get back to sleep. It was just another attempt for him to build our relationship as father and daughter, or so I guessed.

I turned away from him to sleep on my side and drifted off to sleep after he stopped fidgeting. An unknown amount of time passed when he placed his heavy arm on my waist, waking me up unnecessarily in a grouchy mood. He rolled me onto my back and I let him, unaware that he was naked until my hand accidentally slapped onto his side of the blanket. Still, I didn’t ask.

He opened his blanket and tucked my hand under, this time wrapping my hand around his thick cock. His hand never left my hand as he moved it up and down, until I was moving on my own. Next, I felt that same hand shifting over to my waist and went into my shorts, pantyless as usual. He split my pussy lips open for the first time in my life and pushed his middle finger onto my clit, rubbing it in circles and making my head lighter.

The naive me did not know what was happening except that it felt soothing. It was nothing I had felt before and my legs just got wider as he moved faster. ‘Nice?’, he whispered and I gave him a nod, unaware that I was jerking him faster as well. We spent the next fifteen minutes in that position, arms crossed over our hips and constantly moving our hands.

After some time, he asked me to sit up and he revealed what I was touching under the sheets, a red, swollen stick that was covered in veins. He grabbed my wrist and slowed me down, while telling me, ‘Daddy is going to get high now. Don’t stop until daddy stop shooting k?’

The naive me only asked, ‘shoot what?’. Without a reply, I watched his agonising expression as I pumped him faster, partly distracted by slipping my hand into my shorts to feel what just happened. My fingers couldn’t stop moving once I felt my clit and I just did what he did, massaging it and getting dizzy on my own.

His moans grew louder as I sped up, bringing myself nearer to an edge I did not know how to process. My body suddenly froze as an electrical wave shot through my back, and my clit turned really sensitive with lots of juices leaking. He took over control of my hand and jerked himself off, shooting the very liquid that I was curious about. His hips jerked uncontrollably until only droplets were oozing out from the tip, and I was immobilised by shock.

‘Let’s go and wash up together’, he stepped out of bed and carried me in his arms, like a princess that felt some form of love from him for the first time. I remembered washing that sticky cock of his while he cleaned me below, my muscles twitching with every touch of my sensitive clit. We went to bed after that and I didn’t wake up until it was too late for school.

In a daze and stumped mood, he told me he had called the school and I got the day off. Never had I expected him to do such a thing for me. It was after all every student’s dream to have an off day once in a while. That day onwards, I did not bother dressing up much when we were alone in the house, often walking around in panties and shirt while he just wore a thin pair of pants.

Every night my mum was out of the country, we would do the same thing. I was constantly wet and he was hard, but I knew I did more work jerking him off than him rubbing me. It was only when I reached secondary school, did I realised what I did was wrong, but we never stopped until much later in my teens.

Part 1 | Part 2

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