Why I did it.

Once again, these characters are entirely my own and belong to me. Feed the authors by leaving feedback. Flames are not neccesary, you can tell me what you do not like in a nicer way than being offensive. I would appreciate it. Thank you for stopping in.

Once again, my disclaimer: It would appear I have an obsession with minors having sex. I don't!! I am trying to make something snap in the young mind's. I may be dark, but it is who I am. Read at your own risk.

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I was thirteen when my father decided I would make a better sex partner than my mother. It was the middle of the night, I was curled up within my violet sheets and blueberry teddy bear grasped in hands, nothing but a T-shirt on for comfort from the summer heat. I woke the instant my door opened and my father walked in. I sat up straight, already knowing something was wrong. Most children are so trusting of their parents, but I rarely saw my father. He was always away on business and left my mother and my two sisters to their own devices. This was the longest he had stayed home in the last six years and it had begun to frighten me. His temper was outrageous, he threw glasses at my mother, smacked around my sisters. He was never totally cruel to me, just in condescending ways, telling me I was too skinny, that my breasts were taking too long to fill in. He would stare at me for the whole time we were at the dinner table, staring at me with a stare I had just recently begun seeing other boys giving to other girls in my class. I felt awkward and shifted in my chair and usually tried to pay attention to the warm dinner in front of me.

When my father did become angry with me he would always grab me inappropriately, even I knew it was wrong. He would grab me by the front of the shirt, sure to run his hands over my modest breasts before the pulled me too close to him. My father was a very attractive man, but he became ugly when he was angry. He was not a drunk, just angry.

When my father came into the room and saw me sitting up he put his fingers to his lips and asked for my silence. I knew nothing else to do. I was scared of my father, afraid he would hit me like he did the rest of the women in the family. Sometimes I wondered if it was because I was the youngest that he did not hit me, and now I wonder if it was because I was the youngest that he thought he could take his perversions out on me. I was too skinny, my breasts were barely there, and he came in, closed the door, locked it behind him, and came straight for me. He wrapped his hands around the perfectly petite breasts and forced me back into the covers, forced me to lie down with his full weight on top of me. He was a tall man, lean and muscular, his black hair falling in front of his face to brush against my cheek. I felt his lips cover mine and I nearly cried. My first kiss was with my own flesh and blood, my father.

He explored me, his hands roving over me. What did I do? Did I tell him to stop, tell him to get out? Should I scream? He was my father, and despite his temper he loved me, I know he did. I allowed it to happen, though I cried silently the whole time. He whispered disgusting things into my ears as his hands seperated my thighs and his fingers pressed insided of me, forcing me into a state of readiness that I barely knew about. I was naive and yet not naive enough to know what was going to happen.

He had to cover my mouth with his hands when he finally went inside of me. He was too large for my small body, even now he is too large. He pumps me and pumps me until I thought he would never quit. I heard that it only lasted fifteen minutes, I knew this was longer. It had to be. The whole time I just lay their limply, letting him do to me what he needed to do, hoping he would leave and never come back afterwards.

The next day my father went away on business and I had to change my sheets. I told my mother my period came early this month and we washed them together. She was always much happier when my father was gone. My whole family was happy. Vivian, Larissa, and me, Cicely. We were one, big, happy family without my father.

The next time I saw my father was for my fourteenth birthday. He gave me my first nightgown, real silk, no one questioned it. That night he made me try it on, he commented on how my breasts were filling out. He then decided to teach me what I had done wrong the first time and proceeded to degrade his youngest daughter further. I did as I was told for three weeks before he went on business again. I felt lost and yet so much safer with him gone. I clung to my mother and she smiled happily down at me. We were happy again.

The next time my father came home I was prepared and I asked my mother if I could spend the weekend with my friend, Jessie. I didn't tell Jessie why I wanted to spend it with her, but she didn't care. I was her best friend, we would watch movies, eat junk food, and just have fun together the whole time. My mother thought it was a great idea. It was the last time I went away while my father was gone. When I came home that Sunday my mother was bloodied and bruised, so badly that she had to stay in bed. My father told me it was for her insolence for letting me leave when he is rarely around. That night I did everything he asked, even learning how to go down on him, anything to make him keep from hitting Mommy like that again.

When I turned fifteen my father's company changed his status and he got a higher place on the totem pole. He would never travel, he had his own office, and we became one of the richest families in the neighborhood, though my mom was forced to continue to work. We were invited to swanky parties where we met his colleagues and their families. He brought us all along and pretended to be the best dad, the best husband in the world. He then called me over and told me he wanted me to meet someone special. He took me away and my mom gave me a smile that was sweet and she was only thinking, "Be good, Cicely, don't let him lose his temper." She had no clue what was going on.

My father took me to a bedroom upstairs and proceeded to heft up my skirt and push me against the wall. He fucked me while we were standing and this time he became more demanding, telling me to make some noise, to not be so silent. No one would hear us here, he wanted to hear me enjoy it. And I was sickened because my body was ready and I let myself enjoy it, but what else could I do? I was tired of it hurting and so I gave my daddy what he wanted. I moaned and lifted and did all of the things he had taught me to do over the years and he told me how pleased he was with me. I was so beautiful, my red hair so silken, my breasts having filled out so nicely, my body perfect, my face lovely. After my father finished with me he said that there still was someone he wanted me to meet. He opened the door to the bedroom and a man walked in, a man not as attractive as my father. A man that I knew to be his boss. Together the two of them pushed me to the bed and I was fucked, both ends, by both of them. I wasn't sure who was doing what when but they had there fill of me, taking me, loving me, the old man telling me my father was right and that he enjoyed how tight I was.

At the end my father sat me on his lap, having me straddle him, his limp dick still inside of me. He told me to get it up again, and while I did to let the old man touch me all over again. I hurt, I was sore, I was crying, and I did as he asked. The old man fondled my breasts while my father grew inside of me, both of them enjoying every inch of me.

When we finally came back down my mother did not suspect a thing.

I thought it was a one time deal, that my father would never make me fuck another being besides him again. For a year it was nothing but my father, who only became rougher over the year. He would do me at anytime, as long as my mother didn't know. He even fucked me in the kitchen when Vivian walked in. My father pulled out of me and took the nylons that he had tied me to the sink with and tied his eldest daughter to her chair and told her if she told he would do the same thing to her. Then, forcing her to watch, he fucked me over the kitchen table, only a foot from her face, forcing her to watch what he did.

I began to grow jealous, thinking he might fuck my sisters as well. I hated it, I hated that, but I wanted to be special. I wanted him all to myself. I knew he wasn't sleeping with mom anymore, so why should he sleep with my sisters as well. He wasn't, though he knew it bothered me and he often rubbed it in my face.

Then, just before my seventeenth birthday, my father brought me to the office. He showed me off, saying, "This is Cicely, my beautiful, perfect Cicely. She is my favorite daughter, perfect in every way. She gets great grades, she never stays out late, she never dates, and she is a great fuck." He told this to only a certain few, and by God those certain few were so impressed they wanted me too. What has come over the world? Why this corruption?

I was taken to an office with no windows and while everyone thought I was willing they were willing to take a piece of me. Whatever they desired they used me as their desire. That old man with the paunch belly wanted me to call him Daddy. The boss that had done me before wanted me to come next time dressed in a school girl's uniform. The one younger than my father wanted my ass, and he wanted me to cry while he pushed into me. After that, he turned me around and fucked every other orifice of my body that he could stick that little thing into. I was growing jaded.

Now here I was, four days before my seventeenth birthday, my father buried deep inside of me, his lips trailing over mine, and all I could think was, "He has to die." This was the turn of my life.

"Daddy," I moaned softly, wrapping my hands tightly around the bed posts feeling him pump deeply into me. He enjoyed that, he enjoyed to hear his daughter moaning up at him. He enjoyed feeling me so deeply. I pretended to enjoy it, pushing naked breasts up to his sweaty chest, feeling the growing of his beer belly pressed against my stomach. I tightened my legs around his waist and pushed him in deeper, deeper. He came too soon. He did that a lot lately, which I secretly smiled about. He pulled out and went into the bathroom while I looked around for my robe. Mother would be getting home from work soon, I had to take a shower and hurry over to Jessie's house before she did. I could not face my mom right now.

My father left the door open to the bathroom that adjoined my room, calling out to me as he washed up. "I told Victor that you would stop by the office tomorrow. He's anxious to see you. It has been nearly a month since he requested you." Victor, the young one, the one who would fuck me for an hour, roughly, biting into my bare back, and then who would curl up and cry because his father had raped him as a child. Did he think what he was doing to me was much better?

"How much is he paying you, Daddy?" I asked, walking towards the bathroom as he walked out.

My father gave me a less than happy look. "You know I put all of the money they pay for the use of your body into a college savers for you. I want you to have a great future."

What about all of the money you make off of your job? I wanted to ask it, it was at the tip of my tongue, but I kept silent. Not much longer, it would not be much longer. "Yes Daddy, I know." I went towards the shower, setting the towel on the toilet. My father grabbed my hand and pulled me back to press up against his naked body.

"I love you, Cicely, you are my favorite daughter, and the only woman I have touched since your mother." He ran his hands over my face, over my shoulder. I was nearly a foot shorter than him, I could barely reach his shoulders at my height. He enveloped me into a father-like hug and the bile built up in the back of my throat.

"Then why do you have me touch other men?" I asked him into his chest.

He flung me towards the shower and I tripped over the side of the bath, my butt falling into the tub. My head fell back against the tile and for an instant I saw stars. My father walked over and lifted me to my feet roughly, pushing me to the tiles of the bath, his naked body stepping in with me. "You ask why when I have told you a thousand times. I want your future to be secure, and you are beautiful, people would pay thousands of dollars for you and you want to be prude."

"I'm sorry, Daddy." I cowered behind his uplifted hand. The hand didn't reach out to hit me, it grabbed onto my hair and pulled my face up for a kiss that would have left a normal person breathless, but not his daughter. I fought the urge to just start hitting him, throwing him against the tile, but he would never have let me win. He would have killed me before I could even lay a hand on him.

"Your mother's home," my father whispered, stepping out and beginning to pull his clothes back on. "I will see you later Cicely."

I did not watch him go. I engulfed myself in hot steaming water and allowed it to wash away the sins. How would God look at me after what I had done? Would He allow me into those Golden Gates if I had allowed my father to touch me for so many years?

After the shower I rushed to put on my clothes and dry my hair. I ran downstairs, my mother and father sitting at the table, coffee sitting in front of them, their hands wrapped around their cups. Neither of them wanted to touch the other. Why did my mother stay with him? Was it simply for the money, we were comfortable, almost wealthily so. It was a sure-thing that we three children were set. We would always have lives outside of this house, but what about my mom. What kind of future did she have being married to that bastard? And worst of all, why didn't she see, after all of these years, what he was doing to me?

"I'm going to Jessie's house," I called into the kitchen. Both parents looked up and nodded. Neither said a word. I did not want to ask. I turned and ran out of the house, the tails of my sweater trailing behind me. I ran down the street and ran the four blocks to Jessie's house. I was never an athlete, but adrenaline does this sort of thing to you.

Jessie was standing at the door, waiting for me, the screen the only thing that separated us. It could have been romantic, the way I slowed down on the grass of her yard, the way the lights just began to flicker on when I stepped up towards the porch. The moonlight hit my tan skin and glowed llike an aura around me. Jessie, her blonde hair in a pixie cut around her head, smiled out, touching the screen in a sweet gesture. I walked up the porch and touched the screen right over her hand.

"You look ready for anything," she whispered to me.

"I am," I told her.