Susannah had no way of knowing what it was that lay in store for her as the first snow flakes of winter began to fall. It had been a generous spring and summer for her and her father. They were the last survivors of a long journey west that had begun three years ago.
It had taken one year to make it to their homestead from Missouri. On the way, Susannah and her family had lost the youngest member of their family, Jonathan. The trip was a rough one for a two year old and he had succumbed to a severe fever a mere three months into it. The others had lived until last winter. Susannah's mother, younger eighteen year old brother, and her aunt had all been killed when the sleeping room of the house had collapsed under the weight of four feet of snow. It had been soaking up water since November and had been unable to hold out any longer. She and her father had been up early that morning- he was clearing a path to the barn and she had been preparing breakfast. That fact was the sole reason they had survived. If her mother had not been ill, she would have been curled up beneath the fur and homespun blankets ignorant of the impending fate.
Her father had almost died from a flu he had caught while attempting to dig out the family. His efforts had been to no avail and had only succeeding in putting him at risk of death. Susannah had carefully nursed him back to health and taken over all of the household chores. They had almost starved, but spring thaw had been their salvation.
The area they had settled in was generous eight of the twelve months of the year. The temperatures, although cool, were moderate and perfect for raising crops and animals. That past spring had been the first that the crops had truly rewarded the two survivors of the Miller family. Her father had been in grieving for two months and had not been much help. But when the first of the shoots of grain started pushing through the surface of the once frozen ground, he recovered. It was as if the struggle facing them became symbolized in the struggle of his crop.
For the first time since the day of the collapse, she saw him go sun up to sun down without a drink. From that point on he was a whirlwind of activity. He reinforced all the support beams and roofing in the home. He built a stock room immediately adjacent to the main room. He also built a small outhouse that was part of the main shelter. There wasn't enough wood to rebuild the sleeping quarters but he installed beams off of the kitchen that allowed sheets to be hung and permit some sense of privacy for the occupants. For six months, Susannah had believed that maybe things were changing for the better. Perhaps all the promise of the West would prove true.
But then the snow started falling. That first day it was a mere two inch dusting. But the next day it was six inches. The following day and it had not stopped. Susannah watched disconcertedly as her father began to sit in his chair just outside the door, and drink. In the freezing weather he sat for the first week of snowfall, seemingly unmoving outside the door. Eventually, he moved inside. But still he just sat watching the flakes build up on the ground. Soon the snow was beginning to press heavily against the glass panes on the window and some were beginning to crack. Susannah's father reinforced them with boards and then nailed hides over them, to keep moisture out and the heat in. Two weeks past this way. Susannah fixing holes in clothing, cooking venison and bread, and cleaning while her father patched holes, kept the fire burning, and drank. By mid-December they were no longer talking and Susannah had begun to notice her father acting strangely.
At first he would just watch her quietly work. He would prop his rocking chair in the far corner of the room by the fire and stare. His eyes would follow her every movement and rarely blink. It was unnerving to her. The roof creaked, the fire crackled, and her father stared. Initially she thought it was just thoughtless behavior. Perhaps he really was someplace else imagining a happier life with the rest of the family.
That thought would vanish from her head one night a week before Christmas. Susannah had filled the washing basin with boiled water and was excited for the opportunity to bathe after several weeks of soot and animal fat. She had hastily undressed, not wanting the steaming water to cool, and slipped into the water. She scrubbed her skin furiously, after dunking her long tresses repeatedly beneath the water. Then she allowed herself a moments respite and collapsed back against the smooth wooden edges of the basin. For several minutes she closed her eyes and dreamed wearily of spring and the pleasure of the outdoors and work. Realizing she was being selfish, she rose hastily from the water and bent forward, reaching for her night gown. As she picked up the rough cloth from the ground and stepped from the tub she heard a noise from behind her.
Susannah turned towards the room barrier and found her father, the intense gaze on his face. He had a small smirk and his eyes were bloodshot. It took Susannah a moment to realize that he was not looking at her face. His eyes flashed from her breasts to the small thatch of hair over her maidenhood. That smirk remained and Susannah stood frozen. It took her a second to spin back around and dive into the gown. Still he stood watching her, that smirk on his face. The material clung to her wet skin emphasizing the apex of her thighs and the upward thrusting curves of her breasts. Susannah spun from the tub and dove into her bed, and buried herself beneath the hides and blankets.
For several minutes she sobbed, wondering what had possessed her father and what would happen the next time she was forced to be near him. She started to doze off to sleep when she heard his clothes drop to the ground in the small enclosure besides hers. Then she heard him step into the lukewarm water of the basin. For several seconds it was quiet, then she heard her father let loose a long guttural grunt. Routine splashing followed for several minutes and then all was quiet again. Susannah was innocent and did not understand the implications of the auditory clues she had been witness too. About an hour after she heard her father climb into bed she finally welcomed the sweet nothingness of sleep.
The next morning, Susannah woke early and slipped out into the kitchen and began to make breakfast as routine commanded. Her father rose at his usual hour and stoked up the fire and replaced some hides which were soaked from routine exposure to melting snow. These he would hang out to dry by the fire until they were ready to rejoin the battle against the constant white powder. He took his morning toilet and sat at the table as Susannah served bread and venison. They ate quietly, Susannah never looking up from her plate. After breakfast, she went to put away and wash the dishes and repack whatever scraps there were. When she finally finished, she heard her father call out from across the room in a choking voice.
"Susannah. I'm sorry." When she did not answer he continued, "I should not have been looking at you like I was. I just forgot for a moment that you weren't your mother. Can ya forgive me?"
Susannah felt instantly ashamed for her feelings of violation. She did look like her mother after all and this was the first time that he had endured a winter without her. Combined with being trapped in here like they were, he was bound to get a little cabin fever.
"Come sit with me by the fire," he beckoned. Susannah put the last of the dishes up on the shelf on the wall and turned back to her father. She walked across the room and accepted the hand he offered as he pulled her into his lap. She rested her head against his strong shoulder and curled her legs up onto his lap, ignoring the way her skirt gathered behind her knees. She cried softly for a few minutes, still unsettled by her own selfish reaction. They sat there quietly for a quarter of an hour longer before her father changed the nature of their relationship forever.
At first, it was just his arms wrapped around her waist in a familial embrace. But his breathing began to quicken and his head lifted from where it had been resting on top of hers. He cradled her still, his body almost imperceptibly more tense. Susannah did not notice at first. She was back to that happy spring time where things were as they had been. It was not until his hands broke apart and went different directions that she realized that things had changed for the worse.
His right hand went drifting up her side to the side of her breasts and it rested there. His left hand began drifting as far down her leg as it would allow. At first it just rested on her upper thigh. Susannah was very tense now and her mind was frozen. She searched for some excuse to make that would allow her to escape. But until lunch there was nothing. She was trapped beneath four feet of snow in a dark cabin lit only by firelight. After a few minutes Susannah felt his hand begin to gather her gown in between his finger tips and tug it upwards, soon she felt the hot gusts of heat coming from the hearth breezing against her bare upper thighs.
"Pa. Please no. I'm not Ma. Please stop."
Her whimpers went unnoticed. Her father was lost in his own shallow breaths. He kept his arm wrapped tight around her waist and her pinned against his body. His right hand began to slowly drift under her breast and began to squeeze and knead at her soft pert flesh. His other hand slid under the small bit of skirt left over her waist and fished up to her buttocks. The hot pressure of his large hands petting her smooth skin caused her to squirm against him. Susannah's whimpers grew louder as his hands stroked her breasts and ass. He pinched at her nipples and began to slide the palm of his hand into the crack of her buttocks. He momentarily allowed one finger to press against the tight hold of her anal passage. By now Susannah was in a frenzy, her heart racing and her body thrashing against him.
"Hold still. Hold still. Keep still darling," he muttered over and over again. Eventually his arm tightened up and his hold on her breast locked in. Soon Susannah felt his groin begin to grind against her squirming backside. She heard the same low moans of the night before escape his lips as he pressed something hard into her twisting butt and hip. Soon his hold on her left breast loosened and one of his arms dropped to his side. Susannah jumped from his grasp and whirled around, stumbling back towards the door frame. She collapsed against the smooth rounded edges of the solid oak framing and curled there, her eyes moist with tears and locked fearfully on her father and the wet spot gradually appearing on his leather jerkins.
She lay there like that for an hour or two, unable to will herself into motion. Eventually her father pushed himself from his rocking chair and ducked into his sleeping quarter. After another half hour or so, Susannah pushed herself from the ground and busied herself in the kitchen. She glanced nervously for her father and watched for him to appear from behind the curtain that was her only true defense.
Once again she cooked the meat through and through and cut slices of the day old bread. Susannah dutifully covered the meal with a napkin, knowing that not preparing food for her father risked his anger. And she was worried what strange terrors that would bring. After finishing up with her portion she went to the outhouse and peed. When she returned inside her father was hastily eating the food she left him. His eyes rose from the plate in front of him as she entered and traced her movement to the fire. Soon he too rose from the dining chair and moved back to his accustomed position in the rocking chair. Nothing passed between them. Susannah stared into the fire, her mind trying to decipher her father's actions and their meaning.
She had been told in her youth that no man was to touch her except for her husband- and now the very man who had instructed her of this necessity was violating that sacred rule. She did not understand the significance of the actions of her father because no further explanation had ever been given to her. As her mind grew more and more tangled in its immature efforts to grapple with the strange behavior of her father and the seemingly frightening reality of the next two months, she grew exhausted. Soon she decided that it would be best to retire early for the evening and safe embrace of sleep.
She quickly slid under the covers, not bothering to change or remove her clothing. It did not take long for her to drift off. Several hours later she awoke to her father's hand gripping one of her shoulders and flipping her over. Once again, Susannah found herself incapable of fighting back violently enough to fend off his molestations.
He had pulled her prone body over in between his legs and had looped his calves over her thighs, keeping her from kicking or thrashing. His elbows dug into her shoulders just over her armpits locking her arms down as his hands tore at the hem of her dress. He furiously ripped the thin loosely woven material to shred, the strong stench of alcohol causing her to gag as she whipped her head back and forth. Once the entire lower half of her dress had been destroyed he locked his legs and began to pull them back up towards him. The motion caused her thighs to be pulled painfully apart and her naked sex to be exposed to his eyes. Susannah was too tired to cry and collapsed against him, hoping that he would release her after some more of his grinding. It was then that she noticed that he was naked and that the same hard thing which had pressed into her earlier was now pressing against her lower back.
Susannah's father again resumed his perverted and callous attack on her chest. His hands squeezed at the semi bared breasts of his eighteen year old daughter. His eyes thrived on the site of the pink tips of her nipples hardening as he pinched and pulled at them. Her pale skin had been free from the light of day all its life and now her areolas were highlighted against its creamy hue. Susannah limply watched as her breasts grew red from the rough movements of her father's hand and she became vaguely aware of her father thrusting once more against her back.
Soon he tired of her breasts and pressed two of his fingers into her mouth unexpectedly and thrust them in and out several times. Susannah was caught of guard by this bizarre behavior and did nothing to defend her groin now that one arm was free because she did not know what was about to happen. Once the fingers were sufficiently moist he moved the hand back to her crotch. He began to press the tip of one of his pointer fingers into her slit, ignoring the sudden movement and cries of pain that Susannah elicited. She was virginally tight and inexperience and in no way aroused. The finger only made it inside up to the first joint before her clenching vagina stopped it.
A few seconds later, Susannah felt a sudden splash of hot fluid on her back. It continued to spurt onto her body for a few seconds before her father rolled from beneath her and back on top of her. He laid there, his heavy body draped over hers, with his dick still dripping onto her. Susannah tried squirming free until she realized that he was asleep and would do her no harm the rest of that night. She wearily passed the time listening to his heart beat and flinching with every movement or twitch. By morning she was emotionally exhausted and nearing some insanity herself.
Susannah jumped from the bed the moment her father woke and ran for the door to the stockroom, hoping to barricade herself inside. But despite his hangover her father was too quick and he drug her to the ground only halfway across the room. When she tried to squirm free, he slapped her hard across the back of the head, knocking her back to the ground. When she dared make one more move he pelted her again. Susannah laid still.
"Suzie, darling. I am getting tired of these games. You are my child, ya hear me! I made you and I can do what I will with you. Your mother would have wanted you to take care of me, I reckon. You're the woman of the house and you better start behaving like it." His voice was raw and filled with anger and lust. Susannah had never heard him speak this way. "Now I am going to let you up, but don't bother trying to run from me again. You've got a lesson to learn, and I am going to be teaching it to you."
He pushed himself up off her and stood, naked as the day as he was born, glaring down at her.
"Stand up. Now." Susannah did as she was ordered. She desperately tried to cover her groin and the exposed nipple of her left breast, but was met only with another harsh slap to the side of her head. "You'll learn this lesson good. Or you'll be seeing a lot more of those. Keep your hands at your side." Susannah did as she was told; her head hung low and her eyes filling with tears. "That's better." He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to the fire. "Take the rest of that shift off and through it in the fire," he ordered. Susannah reluctantly obeyed, now entirely naked before her father. "Now turn around," he instructed. She turned back to face him and found him sitting in his rocking chair, pulling at strange shaped long shaft that extended from his groin. It was surrounded by a dark cloud of black hair that seemed to mark its base like a fence.
She stared at it, bewildered by the significant difference between her womanly regions and his member. "You'll learn to love him, like your mother did. He can be very kind to you when you give him what he wants," he muttered to his petrified daughter. "That'll come later, you bet it will. Sit," he instructed pointing to the ground opposite him in front of the fire. Susannah did as obeyed and pulled her knees up to her chest and her feet to her crotch. "Don't you dare try and hide yourself from me again girl. You don't want any more slaps like earlier do you," he threatened. Susannah once again found herself lowering her legs and exposing her breasts to the hungry eyes of her father.
"Now spread your legs apart you little slut." Susannah did as obeyed and parted her thighs. "I am going to start your teaching now girl. Your tits or breasts as you like to call them are made for two things; feeding babies and turning on your man. Now I am your man, so they are for me and my friend here," he said with a pat of his cock. "Your pisshole is also for your man. It's for me to put my dick in. You remember watching the dogs go at it when you was younger. I stick this up your little chute and fuck you like the little bitch you are." Susannah winced at every foul word and graphic description that poured from his mouth. Her mother had been kind and gentle and would not have permitted such language. "Now you will do what I say and this will go better for you. First I am going to teach you how to make yourself enjoy this little game we is going to play. I want you to lick your fingers like I did last night and then I want you to rub the pink lips that are around your pussy."
Susannah nervously did as instructed, unsure of what results he was expecting to produce. She stuck her pointer and middle finger in her mouth and licked them and moistened them with spittle. Then she did as instructed. Her movements were jerky and inexperienced and lacked the finesse to really produce results. "Slowly circle that little virgin hole of yours. Touch yourself real softly."
Susannah tried to obey the commands. She kept her eyes focused on her hands, refusing to look up at her father. Her two digits softly traced the outer folds of her pussy, lightly lining them with moisture. She just kept repeating the same motion over and over, hoping this new trial would soon end. "That's it baby girl, that's it. Now take your middle finger there and press 'tween yourself. Just slide it up and down between your twat nice and easy," her half-crazed father muttered breathless. Susannah did as told once again. She pressed the longer slender middle finger into the folds of her twat. She pulled it up and down, its pale skin being overlapped by the moistening pink contrast of her daddy's prize. She continued this motion, the pointer finger beside it further enhancing the now warming sensation growing in her belly.