*Gulp, gulp, gulp, and hold…*
My throat was burning from tonight’s hour-long session. Just like before, dad had waited till around midnight to sneak out of bed and enter my room. He brought the same long-sleeve shirt, tied it behind my back, before dragging me inside my closet just as before. It had been a few weeks now since this became a regular thing, sometimes he’d spend an hour, sometimes longer. It’s hard to accept how all those looks, awkwardly long hugs and inappropriate gropes were all leading up to such barefaced abuse. He was constantly pushing boundaries, and mom and I both just sort of allowed it. Whether I was to blame, or mom, or dad, who even knows at this point. Judging by the way he used me, it’s safe to assume he’d been wanting to do this for quite some time.
*Gulp, gulp, gulp, and hold again…*
As he wraps his hands around my hair and pulls me off, I plead for a break for as long as I can, and the stinging in my throat resurfaces from the touch of cold air. He grabs a shirt from the floor and wipes my face away. I can feel him fixing my hair again up to form a bun, and I’m left sobbing at the thought that he’s not nearly as done as I hoped he would be.
“Shhh, quiet now,” he hushed. It’s amazing how comforting he can be in the middle of all this, fuckfucking his daughter inside her own closet. From soulless to caring, his entire demeanor can change within a split second, and that’s always been something that terrifies me about him. He delicately picks up portions of my hair he’s missed, and gently tugs at my head to make sure he’s got a firm hold. I look up to him as best I can, my hands still tied behind my back, and the air in this small space now again feeling damp. I can just barely make out his face, though with the glistening of his eyes, I’m mostly sure he’s staring intently at my lips and nothing else. “Please, honey.. I only need a little bit more..” he whispers, placing my lips directly on his tip. He says ‘please’ as if I even really had a choice. It wouldnt matter if I tried to suck him off on my own, I’ve tried that before. I open up and let him fill my mouth, though that’s no longer enough for him, especially not now. He holds my hair back up tightly with both hands now, holding me in place as he squeezes himself back down my throat. “That’s it.. just a little more..” he moans, persisting still to shove it even deeper, back towards the ridges of my throat. I’m fighting to breathe, and the dark is now illuminated by a brightness of colors. Just a little more.. good girl” he continues. He fucks my mouth a while longer, as I black out and my body limps to his needs.
The next morning, I wake up in bed, tightly snug beneath my sheets. Shifting even slightly, I can feel myself bruised all over my knees and neck, and I’m shoved back into the mattress by the most incredible headache you could imagine. I don’t remember how he got me to bed.
When the abuse first started, I was much younger than I’d like to admit. It started almost playful, with him tickling me down to the floor and getting ontop of me, always slipping a hand a bit too far. Eventually the tickling became more forceful, finally dropping the charade and straight up grabbing my ass or groping my chest. Of course I always thought it would stop there. But now, within the last few weeks, dad had been crushing up some pills and slipping the powder into my drinks. I know this because he told me once, unashamedly laughing about it while he grinded himself against me on the carpet beside my bed. Mom has always been unaware, or instead chooses to yell at me for the way she’d see dad touch me. This only emboldened him even more, bringing us to the phase we’re currently in now. After a few more instances, I thought he’d stop using the pills. And for a while, it seemed almost like he did, or maybe I had adjusted, I’m not entirely sure. Getting out of bed this morning, I had the usual upset stomach that came after such drugged out sessions. I’m guessing he upped the dosage now, and again, not entirely sure why. I made it clear I wouldn’t fight him, and for the most part, I always woke up during anyway. Part me now thinks he must be into that, a mixture of rape, somniphililia, or drugs. My stomach killed now as I laid there thinking about it. I forced myself to get dressed and head on out for school. Even if I was hours late, if I looked sick enough, no one ever asked why.
Throughout all this, I considered myself lucky. Abuse can happen to anyone, and I was the perfect example of how to hide it. At school, I was a typical teen. I liked music, did well at English class, had multiple friends and even had the self confidence to call myself attractive. But no one had a clue what went on at home; No one ever asked. I made an effort to split both realities and call it good, living the smart kid life at school, and the quiet tortured girl at home. It could always be worse. Up until then, dad had only forced me with oral sex, switching between having me take him down my throat, or with him propping me up against the wall and using his mouth on me. I was determined to keep it that way. All in all, I considered myself lucky. Maybe just a few more years of this, and I can manage to save enough to move out on my own.
About an hour before mom picked me up, I get a text from dad. He’s not usually one to text, so I started to worry before even opening up the message.
“Looking forward to this weekend with you” it read. I figured he was jacking off and horny, nothing more to it than that. I put my phone away and waited for mom, trying to enjoy the few moments before I had to switch realities back to abused girl again.
A few minutes earlier than usual, mom’s car rolls up by the gate. The car honks and I freeze, mom never honks, so it must be dad today. As I get in, dad is wearing the widest grin I’ve seen in years. My stomach sinks wondering why he’s so happy. I throw my bag in the back and we take off, he’s quick to put his hand on my lap and starts running it up and down my thigh. Minutes go by before anyone says a word,
“Mom’s heading out for the weekend. Visiting grandma. She won’t be back until Sunday,” dad says, gripping my thigh in his hand. And it all starts making sense now.
“When’s she heading out?” I ask, grabbing his hand and holding it before he rides upwards even further. He doesn’t seem to like this.
“She’s already gone, sweetie. Left this morning, actually.” My heart sinks. He pushes off my hand and resumes rubbing my thigh up and down, occasionally crawling up inbetween, and squeezing me over my jeans. “You wanna know what we’re doing this weekend?”
“What’s that?” My voice cracks. I cant remember the last time we were alone. And now we’d be alone for 3 days and two nights.
“This weekend, I’m gonna pretend you’re my wife. That means I expect you to cook, clean the place, wash our clothes, all that jazz, sweetie,” his hand was now largely located inbetween my legs, squeezing frequently and rubbing me over. This ride which took 15 mins now felt almost eternal. By the time the car pulled into the garage, my pants were soaked through under his hand. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t help it. He most definitely noticed, ordering me out of the car as he did the same. I grabbed my bag from the back and went inside. There was nowhere to go. All I could hope for was for him to give me some time to prepare. Maybe if I did a good job with everything else he asked, I would manage through the weekend. The door slammed and his hand gripped my arm. He grabbed my bag and threw it on the floor, telling me I wouldnt need it, as he then led me up the stairs, holding onto my arm the entire time.
“I was gonna wait till tonight, but a husband can have what he wants whenever he wants, first thing you should learn,” he said sternly as he walked me up the stairs. I turn towards my room, but he pulls me instead towards his. “You’re my wife. You’re not sleeping in there anymore,” he pulls on my arm and quickly tosses me onto his bed. For some reason, he shuts the door and locks it, and starts unbuckling his belt, undressing me with his eyes with a wild look on him I’d never seen before. He tells me to undress and I do as I’m told. He pulls me under the bed sheets and starts furiously grabbing at me all over, drooling on himself the whole time.
I wish I could say he was gentle. He really wasn’t. I left school at 3:20PM, and by 4:00PM, he was pounding away at me like he was on death row. His arms tightly wrapped around me, firmly holding me against his thrusts. Right on his bed, in the same bed mom had slept in the night before. He had me on my back, wrestling me down enough so my legs were wrapped around him, promising this would make things hurt less; it never did. “That’s my good little wife..” he kept grumbling, “That’s my tight little girl..” We started with the sun clearly up, and ended with the room as dark as the closet he’d been used to having me in. Hammering away all the while. Grunting and mumbling and calling me his wife. By the time he was done, my body was covered in sweat and cum. He allowed me to leave the bed, only to put on a nightgown mom had washed for herself the previous night. As I slipped into bed again, he muttered something else about being a good wife, and I could feel him stiffening up again against my thighs. I started crying. That time, he had me on my stomach, hitting it from behind as he spread my ass. In this position, he felt heavier and thicker than before, like he was ripping me apart.
“You’re tight, sweetie. But you’re not always gonna be tight,” he spit on his hand and he rubbed his fingers up against my ass. I felt sorry for mom. I wondered if she was used to this, and if it had been this way for her, and for how long. He was treating me like an object, and I was his daughter. “This right here is always gonna be tight,” he rubbed his fingers again gently against my ass, spreading me wide in such a compromising way. “Why don’t be give this little one a try.. And see if you enjoy it, just like your mother does.”
The clock read 8:04PM. And by 8:06, he was already hammering away, same as before. The bed frame slammed against the wall, matching my grunts muffled against his hand.
*Bam, bam, bam, bam…*
*Mgh, mngh, mngh, mgh…*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/dczxhi/alone_for_the_weekend_incest_fd_noncon
Hot damn
This made me sad