Alright so this story can be pretty intense and definitely inappropriate so if you can't handle that or you're not interested in stuff like this, pls don't read this story.
"Please... Don't do this, daddy." I pleaded as I fought against my own father to keep my clothes on.
"Stop fighting me, you little brat!" He erupted, like an angry volcano, bringing his hand up and very aggressively bringing it in contact with my now stinging left cheek.
"You bastard." I growled through my teeth, which only fueled the amount of lust in his usually emotionless, dark brown eyes. He let out a deep chuckle before menacingly tearing off my jeans. And people say skinning jeans will save you from being raped ... Yeah, right. Note the sarcasm. He then rolled a condom on his already erect penis and thrust himself into my entrance. Atleast he had the decency to wear protection, I guess. I let out a cry of pain, which he silenced by covering my mouth with his cigarette tasting hand. Gross. To occupy his other hand, he put it up my shirt and began fondling me as he thrust himself into me, harder and harder each time. God, this is wrong, on so many levels.
Why can't he just be like every other normal father and protect me from boys instead of throwing himself upon me?
I let out a stream of profanities and began squirming, hoping to get away from this monster that I call my dad.
"Stay still, don't make me knock you out." He threatened through clenched teeth, but I didn't listen, I never did, according to him, and this was my punishment. Everything was my fault, especially my mom leaving us.
He pulled his hand away from my mouth to place them on my bruised hips, attempting to hold me still. He should know by now that I'm not going down without a fight.
"Get off of me you monster!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. He punched me, with as much force as he could muster, sending my eyes rolling into the back of my head and my body to lay unnaturally still.
You'd think that after all these years I would learn to just give him what he wanted, but I'm just too stubborn, meaning I always put up a fight, and he always knocked me out in the end .. To finish his 'business'. Just thinking about it makes me want to puke.
I woke up the next day to the sunlight shining brightly into my eyes, making my pounding headache even worse. Looking around, I realize that my bottom half is completely naked and I'm laying on the hard, cold ground of my bedroom floor. Wow, he doesn't even have the dignity to put me on my bed. Nah, he's probably too tired from beating me and then raping me. I cringe at the word. I hate him for what he's doing to me.
No, last night wasn't the first time it's happened. It started about six years ago when my mom first left. I had just turned ten and had no clue what he was doing to me. As I got older i figured it out, and started to put up a fight. That's when the beatings began.
I have dealt with this for the past six years, everyday he would do something. He's scarred me. Physically and mentally.I have plenty of scars everywhere from struggling, and I can't let people touch me, as soon as someone raises a hand, i cringe away from them. See how bad he's affected me?
I can't even fullfill my dream of being a cheerleader because of all the touching, so I just stick to gymnastics. He's ruines everything for me. I have no friends, I've never had a boyfriend, and I had to drop out of highschool because he refuses to go to work because he's always drunk off his lazy ass.
Slowly, I stand up and grab a pair of black leggings, zebra stripped Victorias Secret underwear, a light pink, long sleeved baggy shirt from Forever 21, a white infinity scarf and a pair of black ankle boots and began to prepare myself for a stressful day of work.
YOU ARE READING
Daddy, please.
Teen FictionHally is continuously abused by her father, but will that stop when shy, very attractive Alex comes along? I don't know. why don't you find out? (;
