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My first major memory of my father was on my eighth birthday. Daddy took me to a park near our house; I had on a pink princess dress with long pink mesh and frilly shoulders. He picked me up and put me on his shoulders as we walked down the boot beaten path. He helped push me on a swing and gave me a long hug. After we shared the afternoon together he pulled out a large black box. He bent down close and said “You know you are my one and only princess, right?” I nodded. He opened the box and pulled out a tiara, the most beautiful rhinestone tiara any little woman could ask for. I wore it for days, weeks and anytime mom would let me get away with it. My father spent every weekend at home, and would make sure he took me out on special ‘dates’ once a month where just and he and I would spend an afternoon together. My father always made me feel like a princess. After the promotion to executive status father did not make nearly as many engagements.
Golden streaks of morning sunlight pierce through the aluminum blinds. I rub some of the crust from my eyelashes onto the floor and slowly stagger to the shower. The snap of a shower cap pulls my red hair up into a bun on top of my head. Gliding down the stairs, I head to the kitchen and pull out a bowl of good ole’ Captain Crunch. While pouring milk over the nutrition-less sugar biscuits I notice a yellow envelope on the table, inside a piece of lined paper.
“Babe, Sorry I missed your birthday, I will make it up this weekend. Dad”
Every weekend, every birthday, and every moment can always be made up later. At eighteen, there is just no more later, I am leaving for college at the end of the school year. I return to my room and brush out my hair sticking the long crumpled strands into the waste basket. I turn to my sewing machine and continue working on my Halloween costume. This year my friends and I are going as different Disney princesses, I pulled the lucky straw of Ariel. I made the teal plastic scale color fins so that my feet could poke out the bottom and the fins would trail along behind me. The outfit is skin tight, and has no room to even pinch on the sides. Sewing the bra is much more difficult. Gluing long strips of fabric to some multi-colored sea shells I hope that they will not break during the night of the party. The day sifts away and I work diligently, father and mother walk into the house around nine. Moments after the arguments begin. Our house carries sound, and with my door open I can hear the full conversation.
“You did not make an effort.” Mom screams.
“I had work to do, she is what, 17? This is not that big of a deal Sharon.”
“Your daughter is 18 now, 18 Dan.”
“Ok, so what. It is just a birthday.”
A crash comes from down stairs. My father returns with a bellowing ‘ah shit.’
“That was my grandmothers’.”
“Well don’t put important things up high.” Dad did not even apologize for breaking my mother’s object. The fighting continues till I close the door and finish working on my costume till I am tired. My door cracks open.
“Lynn?” my father enters.
“Yes, Dad?” I stand and hurry to put away some dirty piled up clothes in the closet and start to fix my bed.
“It is ok, I am not here for that.” I sigh a relief and go back to my desk. “I wanted to say sorry for missing your birthday.”
“Your note said that.”
“Yes, but I wanted to tell you.”
“K.” I answer.
My father looks around at my room and sees the old dusty tiara.
“Hey, I gave you that.”
“You were my princess.”
“One and only.” I continue to work at my desk not looking at him.
“Well alright, I’ll get out of your hair.” He leaves and heads back down to mom. They fight over how sincere he seemed to me, and how he shouldn’t be so brief. After a while realitykings porno they take the fight to their rooms and head to sleep angry at each other. I nod off to sleep, curled up in my pink blankets.
My parents are gone before I get up. I continue with my normal high school daily routine. After getting ready my doorbell rings. Kathrin, one of my oldest friends, is at the door. She walks into our living room and sits on the long leather sofa.
“I got it!” she says to me.
“OOO show it to me.” I jump over the back of the sofa and look in her empty hands.
“Not yet, we have to go to school.”
“I am not going today, stay with me.” I plead with her. Pouting at her and putting my head on her lap I know she will cave into me.
“Ok fine, but only because we are Seniors.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a special magazine. “And here he is, on the cover.”
Brad Pitt, right smack dab on the cover of the latest People Magazine. The sight of him makes us squeal. She pulls out a second copy of the magazine and I go for some scissors. Following any article on the actor has been a hobby of ours, one we both had. He was our first fantasy man, and we used to masturbate in middle school together to pictures of him, ever since he became our wall idol. We cut out a couple of pictures and Kathrin puts her hands on mine.
She looks at me and sighs, “I am sorry about Samuel.” I don’t reply to her. “Look I know you told me what happened, I just thought you were jealous he was interested in me and did not want me dating him.” Still I sit in silence. “He did me the same way he did you.” With that I drop the pictures and the scissors and embrace my friend. She breaks down and cries into my arms.
“Did he fuck you?” I ask. She nods in between sobs. One high school man took both of our virginities, no longer are we just bound by the romantic eyes of The Pitt. “Did you say anything?” she does not answer. After a moment of pause she speaks.
“You didn’t.” Kathrin says to me.
“That does not mean you cannot, He will do it to someone else.” She does not reply to me and we continue to embrace in tears and soft whimpers. The moment passes by and we get back to Brad, hesitating to say anything to each other. After a moment the garage door to the house starts to raise, Kathrin and I stare at each other. Packing her bag in a chaotic fashion she dives for her shoes and runs to the door, not stopping to say good-bye; I fall to the ground scrapping at the carpet to pick up paper clippings from the floor. My father enters, tall black suit and blue tooth he talks and laughs closing the door behind him. The conversation on the phone ends and he looks at me on the floor. His pupils dilate.
“What is this?” he asks. “What the hell are you doing home. And this mess, you have ruined the whole living room!”
I scrambled to my feet, not looking my father in the eyes I take the magazine pieces and put them in the trash, as I move past my father he grabs my arm violently.
“Clean this up now.” Back to my knees I try picking up the smallest traces of paper. My father puts his foot on my ass and pushes hard knocking me to one side so that I look up at him. “Why are you no at school?”
“I did not feel well.”
“Damn it, Lynn I know when you are lying.” He grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet in front of him. “Why are you not at school?”
“I did not feel well.” At the completion of my sentence my father backhands me across the face sending me into the coffee table. He picks me up from the floor. “The truth.”
“I stayed with Kathrin to cut out some pictures, we had a senior skip day.”
“Better.” He lets me go with a push and points to the floor. “Finish.” With that he walks to the kitchen and gets a glass of rip her up porno milk. “All I ask is that the house stay clean, and that you respect me Lynn. Why would you lie to me, I do not care if you need some time for yourself.”
I finish taking the scraps to the trash and move the table back into the center of the living room.
“Oh, the reason I came back early today was this.” My dad takes out a long yellow jewelry box. “I thought I would have to come to your school.” He holds the box up to me. I take it cautiously. Opening the box shows a bracelet of pearls.
“I thought you could use to feel like a princess again.” He stands up to hug me. I back off and put the strand around my wrist. “Come on, don’t I get a hug from one of my favorite princesses?” he asks. Moving towards me, he tries to embrace. I do not back off. The affection from my father makes my heart melt. I cave into his arms and bury my head into his chest. My eyes swell up with tears, the socket around my eye pulses with the pain of broken blood vessels.
“I love you Lynn.” He says to me. Holding me tightly. “I am sorry, sometimes work keeps me too late, I should have been her for your 18th, but now you have some more princess jewelry.” He comforts me and rocks me back and forth. My father then pulls my suction grip away from his chest. I look up at him.
“Well, back to work Lynn. I just wanted to give you your gift.” My father leaves me, I stare at the door hoping he will come home and take me to the park. The door stays closed, and my father is not back until past midnight.
The next day goes by rather uneventfully, school ends and I come home and rest on the sofa watching some television for a while. Having relaxed from the long day I walk upstairs and try on my costume. The fins are very tight, skin-tight, forcing my legs to lock close together with no breathing room. The bra covers my chest but making it from multiple smaller seashells causes gaps that show more than my normal amount of skin. In small waddling steps I move over to my dresser and pick up the dust ridden tiara. I work it into my hair then push my red hair behind my shoulders. Turning to the mirror I look at myself seeing the image of a Mermaid Princess. Pleased I try to move around in the waddling motion without ripping the fins. How I will ever be able to move at a party for a few hours without ripping my lower half up to my ass I do not know. The garage opens. The door bursts open and an unknown figure moves to my parents room in a hurry.
“Dad?” I call out. “DAD?” yelling.
“I have to pack, I have a quick flight.” After a few minuets my father comes up with two large suitcases in his arms, his hair not slicked back as usual but ruffled in front of him. “Your room is a mess.”
“Yeah.” I reply. He sets the bags down and comes close to me. “What are you supposed to be?” he asks.
“Ariel, a mermaid.” He looks a me, puzzled. “Disney?” No reaction. “Why are you back so soon?”
My father looks at me up and down. “Cute.” He says moving towards me. I stumble backwards but make a quick hop to keep my balance. “Daddy’s little princess huh?” he spears at my arm and twists it close to him. His lips sink into my neck and he kisses me biting at my neck. I pull away and slap him in the face. His retaliation is swift and brutal, one connecting fist to my jaw puts me to the floor, my ankle bursting out of the teal scales, creating a slit up to my calf. With that my father stumbles over me and hits the back of my head with his ring hand. My hair splits open and the tiara goes flying against the wall shattering into multiple plastic pieces. Powerless and in a haze my father takes complete control of me. He props me up on the bed and places both hands on my chest. Like a rabid animal he claws at the bra rus porno until his fingers sink in around the shells, while tearing apart the bra the seashells pinch my nipple and cause a small trickle of blood. My father grins, looking at me seeing that my right eye has swollen shut. Fondling me my father unbuckles his belt and lets his pants fall to his ankles. His boxers pushing out from him he unbuttons the slit and his penis flicks out. With one hand he strokes himself and the other is spreading the small trail of crimson blood around my breast. My hand reaches up to slap his hand away, he plants a firm solid hit into my stomach which causes me to curl up on the bed. Again my father flattens me out. He grabs my plastic scaly legs and pulls me closer to him. With that he grabs the silk band at my waist and tears a section of my costume down to my mid thigh, the fabric ripping at the seams. Gasping for air I make out the hand of my father trying to part my legs farther for a better entry. He flips me around on the bed, unsatisfied he turns me back over. Dad flattens himself against me. His strong stiff cock presses against my lower stomach, his hand moves it and I feel his penis slide between my two legs, and finally between my lips. The contact of a male moistens my pussy and an erotic flavor of pleasure disrupts my body’s cry of pain. Confused I let out a cry,
“Daddy?” my father leans close to me.
“Say it again.”
“Daddy, please don’t.” he laughs and I feel his head push down to my opening. The awkward angle causes discomfort as he pushes the round opening lower and wider than it has ever gone. His cock makes it over my pelvic bone so that the rest of him slides in roughly, causing me to arch up on the bed and moan in intense pain, and pleasure. I scream as he pulls mostly out and thrusts once as hard as he can. His new thrust expends the rest of the air with a hard push from my diaphragm, my loudest highest scream in life; my vocal chords violently smack each other together.
“Sing softly the silent symphonies of our sin my siren.” My dad whispers in my ear, as he covers my mouth. At his words, I realize my father has planned this moment. Everything from him ignoring my birthday to coming to my room to see how my costume is going, even the very pearls I had on my wrist were a part in his plan to fuck his daughter. With that my head comes to terms with the fact that this is the most physical love my father has ever shown to me, and the most intimate our relationship has been in years. I relax more as he pounds away, taking in what pleasure I can from his pillaging cock. I wonder if one of my father’s fantasies was to fuck a mermaid? No, his fantasy has always been to rape a princess.
Proudly his cock smashes into me, he leaves little instances for my body to make sense of the pain and pleasure, each mash induces a new wave of nerve explosions, blinding and searing hot waves of torture combined with the taboo of incestual pleasure. Daddy kicks his head back and moans. As he explodes his cum into my pussy he removes his hand from my mouth and I shriek a cry worthy of Odysseus. His cock leaves me empty, suctioning out from within me, one strand of semen connects my cunt to his cock. From my one open eye I see him take out a handkerchief from the pants at his ankles and wipe himself off, the line between us is broken. My arms spread open and my legs lie helpless over the bed, I watch him dress and take his bags. Dad tosses the handkerchief onto my stomach.
“Clean your room.” With that he leaves my room, closing it behind me. I softly slip off the bed and my head hits the floor with a clunk, besides my broken crown is my old tiara, in pieces. The rhinestones glitter and glow just above my head.
I keep what he left for me, a strand of pearls and a stained piece of cloth. They sit in a small wooden chest with pieces of a tiara and broken shells, silent reminders of the Sins of this Siren. Never again has anyone called me Princess.
Always I am left to wonder: If every girl is daddy’s little princess, why did he never come back from his trip for me?
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