threw me across the bed.
'I didn't know,' I said stupidly. It was the first thing that popped into my mind. He laughed crazily as he flung himself on top of me.
'Didn't know, my ass!' He was crushing me. 'Think I ain't seen you wiggling your ass for anybody who wants to watch? Think I don't know you're puttin' that pussy on any boy with the balls to ask?' He put one hand on my cunt, his other hand seized both my wrists and pinned them to the bed, above my head.
'Ain't none of them can give you a cock like this one, though,' he panted. He was between my legs and I struggled desperately as I felt his tremendous peter brush against my thigh. He held me with little trouble. I felt hard flesh touch my pussy. I tried to squirm away.
There was a brief sensation of pleasure as I felt the outer lips of my pussy being parted by the smoothly rounded knob that I knew was the tip of his peter and then… the most excruciating pain I have ever known! I felt myself being torn apart, just as I'd feared. Searing fire raced through the inside of my pussy. Blood pounded at my temples. Lights flashed before my eyes. I tried to scream, but he had his mouth pressed to mine, kissing me. The smell of his breath was making me sick to my stomach. He moved inside me.
The rod of his peter was reaching deeper and deeper into my pussy with each movement of his hips, burning me as if it were a white-hot poker, and I could feel a warm and sticky fluid seeping out of my slit, onto my thighs, over my butt. Blood. He didn't notice.
I could feel the walls of my pussy rubbing smoothly against the slippery stem of his peter as his driving rod pried them wider and wider, and the pain turned into a dull ache that pulsated in time to the drive of his hips. He released my wrists.
'Nothin' takes the fight outta you like a good piece of cock, does it?' He grabbed my legs and raised them high. Once again he kissed me. His peter moved faster inside me. His breath came faster.
The pain inside me was being replaced by something else. Not pleasure, exactly, but by a feeling of warmness. A feeling of doing something that is natural and easy. I suddenly realized that my hips had lifted and were making crazy little figure eights. On their own. Daddy's breath came in great gasps. He bucked and heaved above me. Then, with a great shove that completely buried his peter in me, he gave a loud cry and fell on top of me. I felt the steady pumping of a warm liquid inside my pussy. It seemed to ease the ache.
Mom never knew about that night. I at least had sense enough to wash the blood from the sheets before she saw them, and though she may have sensed something was wrong by the funny way the old man acted during the next few days, I'm sure it never occurred to her that he'd actually fucked me. She probably knew he wanted to. That was all.
The old man, when he sobered up, was all sorrow and remorse. 'I was drunk, kid, and it'll never happen again,' he said. And, 'Just don't tell the old lady, huh, kid? It won't happen no more — I promise!'
Of course, I didn't tell, and for weeks, whenever Mom wasn't around, all I heard was that whining promise.
He broke that promise less than two years later.
I was in my bedroom, dressed in nothing but my bra and panties, and I knew he was sneaking looks at me through the open door. That gave me a strange sort of kick. I guess that it came from knowing that every bounce of my tits and each wiggle of my ass would make him remember the night he'd fucked me. It was a kookie sort of way of getting back at him. Making him pay the price.
My tits had filled out tremendously since that night. They were round and full. The tops of them swelled creamily upward over the top of the black lace bra that was too skimpy to contain them. The light red fuzz around my cunt had turned into a thick bush that padded the front of my panties, and a few stray tendrils creeped from beneath the elastic at my thighs. I remember wondering, as I stood there in front of the mirror knowing he was watching, if the old man wasn't mentally kicking himself in the butt for not waiting. Probably, I decided. I was a hot piece and knew it. Enough boys had told me so.
'Either get some Goddam clothes on or close the door,' he said suddenly, startling me. He was standing in the doorway.
'I thought you liked to look,' I said, taunting him as I'd found I could get away with doing since that night. As I turned toward him, I saw his eyes involuntarily drop to the darkly shadowed vee of my cunt. I picked up a brush and ran it through my hair. 'You sure do enough looking,' I said. 'Or maybe you were going to rape me again?'
It was stupid talk. All of it. But I'd found I had a hold over him because of the way he'd raped me, a hold that let me get away with almost anything, and I used it. I guess it was my way of getting back at him for the pain he'd caused me that night. This was the wrong night to try it.
'I told you to get some Goddam clothes on!' he shouted angrily and I should have noticed that his voice was somehow different tonight. I didn't. Like a fool, I posed with my hips cocked, my eyes lowered sexily, my breasts lifting as I slowly stroked my hair, and said, 'Why, Daddy dear, you talk like you'd like me to walk through that door and tell your wife about how you taught me the facts of life. Do you?'
'She's gone,' he said simply. That, along with the husky catch in his voice should have warned me. It didn't. 'I can always tell her when she gets back,' I said, then, swinging my hips saucily as I turned and walked to the closet, I added, 'What are you thinking — that you might as well do it twice? That they can only hang you once? Please don't. You weren't very good at all. I get lots better…'
That did it. As he came toward me, I realized that he had been holding himself back. And that he was through going it. He hooked his fingers in the top of my bra. His face was a deep red.
'All right, damn you, take them all off!' He jerked powerfully at my bra. I felt a biting pain as the straps dug into my back. My tits sprang free.
I had been jerked forward against him by the tug that broke my bra strap, and as he pulled at the bra until it fell away completely, I saw that his eyes were like those of a wild man. His fingers bit into my shoulder, hurting me. With his other hand he tore at my panties. I tried to break free.
'Take every Goddam stitch off!' he shouted. I heard and felt my panties being ripped, ripped again. His fingers touched the furry mound above my cunt. I was naked against him.
'I swear to God. I'll tell,' I said, feeling almost triumphant, knowing that would stop him. It infuriated him instead.
'Tell and be damned,' he said; then, even before I fully realized what those words meant, he slapped me. Hard. My head snapped backward. He slapped me again, then flung me backward onto the bed. 'I'll give you something to tell about.' He began to undress.
'You're not drunk. You don't have an excuse this time,' I said, searching for a way to stop him as I huddled naked on the bed. I was crying. Not from fear but from something closer to anger. He finished undressing without a word or a look in my direction, then said, 'Who needs an excuse to fuck? You ask your boyfriends for an excuse? What's your excuse?' And then he came after me.
I resisted as his strong hands grabbed my lower legs and began prying my legs apart, then I gave up. He was just too strong. The tip of his hard cock brushed my inner thigh as he moved between my legs. I closed my eyes. His hand settled over my cunt. He rubbed it. His other hand opened and closed over one of my tits. He was breathing loudly, almost panting. I could feel his ribs against one of my thighs, his cock against my other leg, down lower.
I felt my nipples being hardened by the contact of our naked bodies, the touch of his hands. My pussy began to dampen. I hated myself for reacting. He rolled between my legs, both hands going to my tits, his hard belly pressing down on the mound of my cunt. I kept my eyes closed and my lips pressed together as he kissed me on the mouth. His hands massaged my breasts.
'Open your eyes,' he said finally. 'Open your eyes and look at me. Don't try to act like you don't like it. You know you do. You liked it that first time I fucked you. Tell me you like it.'
I looked up into his face. It looked weak and pleading. I suddenly realized how I could hurt him. I couldn't stop him from raping me, I knew, but I could destroy his pride. I could show my contempt.
'I like it,' I said. His eyes brightened. He kissed me. I felt his prick shift closer to my pussy. His lips moved wetly over my ears, my throat, down to my right tit. 'I knew you did,' he mumbled, then drew my nipple between his lips. I put my hand beneath my breast, cupping it for him.
'Does my little baby need some tit before he's able to fuck?' I asked, but he didn't seem to hear. His mouth moved from nipple to nipple, mumbling, 'Beautiful tits, you've got beautiful knockers.'
