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Introduction:

Stephanie's father wants nothing more than to use and abuse his daughter.

Stephanie's Abusive Father *amended*
Julie_

I knew my dad liked his time alone. Since the days when my mother was alive, he often came home and wanted nothing more than to be left to his own devices for a couple of hours. That usually involved a six-pack of beer and the television in our living room. Now, ten years later I found myself living in the same house. Trapped with no hopes, nothing to aspire to and with my strict disciplinarian father.

From as far as I could remember, he used to bathe me. Not like a father and daughter though. I would be in the tub splashing without a care in the world. Mounds of bubbles often surrounded me and my nudity, the far off places where fathers didn't see of their daughters because that is the way it was supposed to be.

"Lean forward", he instructed calmly. I did and distinctly remember his soapy hand running down to the small of my back. As he passed it, I knew a threshold was crossed. He softly gripped my chubby little ass and massaged my puckered hole. I stopped frolicking in the water. My eyes grew wide, pupils dilated, I struggled in the water to separate the two of us when I saw my mother barge in on us.

The dull thud of a frying pan hit the back of my daddy's head. He fell onto the tiled floor and she picked me up, out of the water.

"Your father isn't right in the head. Get dressed. We're going to see your grandmother for a few days", she said in her most loving tone.

I loved to see my grandma, even if it was because my dad liked them young. She made me hot chocolate and baked cookies sometimes. The sugar ones. I liked those alot.

Her and my mother talked in the front room about things while I watched cartoons on my princess blanket on grandma's couch in the den.

One day when my brother and I were downstairs, we heard a window break. Someone was screaming. 'No. Please. She hasn't done anything.' Brad shut the television and took me into a crawl space behind the washer and dryer. We made sure to stay quiet like mom told us, maybe they wouldn't think to look for us.

Heavy footsteps thudded on the stairs and I knew it was dad. His breathing didn't sound normal like he'd been running or lifting weights. I shut my eyes and held onto my brother's hand. He must have given up because we heard the same noise getting quieter. "They aren't downstairs", I remember him saying before we decided it was safe to look out at the room. Everything was turned on its side. The couch, television, a few chairs.

There was an unmistakable scent of kerosene. I looked to the top of our stairs and saw my dad leave from a side entrance holding four empty rectangular cans in his arms. Brad rushed up the flight. He waited for me to follow and led me through our living room, to our mom's bedroom and it was than that we saw her. She wasn't moving much but heard us immediately.

"Brad? Julie? Save yourselves. When I didn't tell him where the two of you were, he stabbed me and said he'd kill us all."

"Mom!", the two of us were crying as we gave our mother one last hug. She tried to speak but spat out a little blood. Brad tugged on my arm and helped me climb onto the ledge of a window in their room. He went ahead of me. When I got my knees to the edge, I remember he held onto my lower body and made sure I didn't fall to the ground. We climbed a few fences, our own in the yard and the neighbor's.

I felt lightheaded but Brad kept me moving. "Mrs Stevens? Hello? Mrs Stevens?", he called out as I saw him knocking on the door. She came to it and saw us. "You poor things! I'm of a mind to wonder why you're out so late at night." Her head lifted slowly and our house was engulfed in flames. I was gazing in the same direction, simply shocked that all of this was going on. "You two get inside. I have to call for help." She disappeared into a side room and Brad pulled me into the hallway out of earshot of our neighbor.

"They're gonna put us with dad. I know they will", he whispered with his hands on my shoulders.

I pushed back my shoulder length blond hair and met his eyes, "No they won't. Don't say that." I cried to myself quietly.

"I'm sorry, Julie. I hope it doesn't come to that. Dad sure will be angry that we hid from him though", he said flatly.

"I know. I don't want to think about it." Brad hugged me, his arms kept me close as we sat against the wall together. I was a mess. Tears were running down my face and my brother reassured me that we'd be okay.

Mrs Stevens came back shortly after and asked us what happened. I started on. I don't think she understood me through my crying but I made an effort. "We were watching cartoons and someone was screaming...and!", I broke down in a fit of sadness. Brad continued, "Someone was screaming upstairs. Then we smelled kerosene."

She couldn't speak and kept repeating the same thing, over and over. 'Oh my god.'

They suspected our father of wrongdoing. Our testimony against him didn't mean a thing because he hired quite a lawyer from what we later were told. For a few years, the two of us spent time with our temporary guardians while dad battled in court for custody. The time gave us an opportunity to recover from our ordeal but no matter how hard we tried it would never be enough.

Years later when he regained full custody, having gone through a multitude of courses and donating money to the local police precinct, our father welcomed us into his new home. Everything was great. Considering his career in the government, his job meant stress became a daily part of his routine. We found a way to cope. When dad arrived home, both of us disappeared to our rooms. He never sought us out. Just drank himself to sleep in front of the television.

As time went on, things changed between the three of us. Brad and I spent more time at our friend's houses, sometimes we didn't return home until the very next day or the following one. It added to dad's frustration. The alcoholism took its toll and made him extremely paranoid. He remained employed but fell down the ranks. I returned home, my dad wasn't home so I thought I was lucky. Maybe I'd make it upstairs with a few items before he returned.

Luck was on my side. I closed my door and got on the phone to distract myself from the scenario I involved myself in. Amelia answered and soon we were talking about a few boys at school. I must have been getting a little loud because my dad came storming into my room. At first when he told me to get off the phone it scared me. The look in his eyes wasn't what it used to be. No longer did I see any love or patience in my father's eyes. Now it seemed that every moment I hesitated got him angrier. He wasn't my dad anymore and I was terrified. I told Amelia I had to go and hung the phone up.

"Do you realize which one of us pays for that phone you spend so much time gabbing away on? I come home from a stressful day at work and I hear you holed up in your room. You don't even greet me anymore when I come through the door like you used to when your mother was alive."

I was speechless. He ran his calloused hands through my hair and whispered as he kissed the top of my head, "You remind me so much of your mother, Stephanie." I felt him and watched as my blouse was opened button by button.

"Daddy? You're drunk. You shouldn't be doing this, I'm your daughter!" I hoped that maybe I could talk some sense into him. I had no chance of overpowering him and he knew it.

"I might be drunk but I'm still your father. Now this can go one of two ways. You can do exactly what I tell you to or you can refuse to obey me and I'll still get what I want." He pulled me to my feet and stared into my eyes. "Are you going to do what daddy says?" His voice was slurred but his grip on me never loosened.

"I'll do as you ask. Just don't hurt me, daddy!"

He placed my hands on his belt buckle and instructed me. "Unlatch daddy's belt. Pull it through the loops and fold it once, then place it on the floor beside you." I did as he asked. The scent of his cologne made my eyes tear. I knew I'd never forget the smell of him either. He waited for me to unbutton and unzip his jeans, slowly enough to try and delay the inevitable. "Don't be afraid to touch my cock, Stephanie. Rub it up and down with your fist gripping it."

He watched me jerk him off a little and I saw him grow larger between the fingers of my hand. "Now, baby? Daddy needs you to try something else. Give my cock a kiss, right on the tip." I gazed up at him hesitantly and tried to tell him that I didn't want to. He stuck his thumbs in the insides of my cheeks, slipped his cock between them and pinched the corners of my mouth as I was forced to suck his sweaty prick. I gagged on it, choked loudly and he wouldn't let up. When I threw up he grasped the back of my head and pushed the entire thing into my airway. His musty balls were flat against my chin.

I took his abuse for a few minutes. He pulled my hair and made me get on my knees in front of him. I was bent forward in front of him while he was kneeling behind me. Roughly I felt him grab my ass as his cock eased up my pussy. "Oh, baby! You're so fucking tight." He grunted aloud and spanked my cheeks, reprimanding me for trying to crawl further along the floor. "Keep your little ass right here, Stephanie or I might find something to go up that tiny hole. You don't want that, do you?" I shook my blond head and he continued to fuck me. The thick head of it bottomed out in me. He didn't care that it hurt me so badly, all that mattered was getting me pregnant.

I struggled to get on top of the bed and felt his hands wrap around me. "You aren't thinking of escaping, are you?" He held my breasts in his hands and fucked me angrily, his balls slapped my clit again and again until I was writhing. My body betrayed me. His thumb played with my asshole which was clenching emptily around its tip. I sobbed quietly to myself as I came. He slapped me across the face, held onto the sides of my head and yelled at me. "Open your mouth for daddy!", he growled hastily. I shook my head out of confusion and I felt the sting of his hand whacking my cheek. He shoved his come covered prick inside, choking me as he fucked my throat until I threw up all over myself, collected some of it on the end of his cock and started to deposit it back in my mouth.

I was disgusted. More came up onto him. My stomach hurt so badly by that point. He punched me right where it hurt and picked me up in his arms. I was afraid of what was about to happen to me. The one person I was supposed to be able to count on for protection grabbed both of my wrists and wrapped some rope around the headboard of my bed. They were tied together directly above my head.

He spit on my face and punched me again. I blacked out after that. When I woke up, his hands were tangled in my hair. My asshole was being tongued and sucked before I realized his cock was resting at its opening. It burned as he slipped it inside, there was nothing I could do to stop him. He raped my unused hole and put two fingers inside of me. I was lost in my own world. The need to come again overtook any sense of where I was. He knew damn well what he was doing to me and I hated him for it. My asshole tightened around his cock, I gushed on his hand and he shot his oily load in my ass.

I was left alone. Throughly abused and in discomfort. My arms ached from being hoisted at such an awkward angle for hours.

As I laid on my bed still bound, completely helpless to whatever was about to happen he yelled to me from the doorway, "I'll be back to untie you. When, I don't know. Oh, by the way I invited a couple of my friends over to keep you company. Let them do as they wish and I promise they'll be gone quickly. All they want to do is get off inside of you."

He slammed the door and I heard his footsteps walking down the hall. I was helpless to stop what was about to happen to me, though I struggled against the ropes hoping that somehow I could get loose before his guests arrived.

I heard the unmistakable sound of voices in our living room downstairs as I struggled with the ropes. My wrists were sore and I barely could budge my bindings, they left ingrained welts from what little I managed to maneuver. The padding of feet in the hallway interrupted my false sense of security and motivated me to work quicker before I gave up. It was no use.

He wore a mask and approached the side of my bed from the doorway. Now I knew that given my situation no one would want me to get loose and flee. He looked me over. I noticed the gleam of his switchblade and as I screamed, his leather gloved hand smothered me. He worked steadfast and pieces of the ropes frayed as they fell onto my immobile form. I regained feeling in both wrists, he shoved a pair of jeans, a shirt, knit hat and a jacket at me. Didn't speak a word but I knew he wanted me to get dressed since I was completely naked and shivering.

I put everything on and hid my hair beneath the knitted cap. He motioned toward the door and led me down the hall. My heart beat quicker. Somehow I knew to trust him, that he wouldn't let me down or leave me to die. Though I still didn't know who he was. We passed the empty living room and turned to leave out a back door. I was grabbed from behind by strong arms, a cold blade was pressed dangerously close to my windpipe and I prayed that the man would turn around and realize my predicament.

To my dismay he walked a few more steps.

"You see? Just like your no good mother. She was stupid and so are you, a dumb cunt whose time had come", his spittle landed on the nape of my neck as he hoarsely whispered in my ear. "You are the reason she's buried in an early grave."

I really wished he wouldn't insult my mother like that. It broke my heart and reopened old wounds, worse than actually stabbing me and it was just as painful.

My father held my life in his hands, my breaths struggled to ease into my lungs without inadvertently causing his hand to slip any closer to my neck than it already was. The man ahead of me glanced to his side briefly but continued to the door. I wrenched a little in his grip, his fingers pulled up the hem of my shirt and slipped beneath it. Still keeping my throat in check. He roughly mauled my left breast as I slowly seethed with anger. As my father switched to the other I turned hard against the blade and sunk my knee into his stomach. He stumbled away from where I had been standing as I turned to head for the door.

The man from before came into view and aimed the barrel of a shotgun in my direction. I heard shuffling as I ran and then the click. He backed out of the doorway. A loud bang raped my eardrums, like a thunderclap. I turned and saw my father's decapitated body fall to the floor a couple of feet back and glanced down at my blouse, there was red splatter all over it. I trembled from where I knelt on the ground beside the mystery man. We saw a group of men back away as they filtered out the front door.

He pulled me to my feet and brought us to the road. I got in the car with him. All we did was drive until there were several miles between that incident and us. He pulled his mask off once he thought we were safe and I hugged him tightly. It was my brother Brad.

"I knew what he was doing to you up there. But I saw five guys in the house and I didn't want my efforts to be for nothing", he explained as he hugged me. I felt his warm tears gently pelt my blouse, he hid his face from me and I heard him repeatedly apologising to me.

"Brad, it's okay. You did good today. Dad hurt me badly but I'll heal. Eventually", my sadness erupted and my brother couldn't console me enough. I tried to stay strong but it was too much to handle.

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