Tell Daddy What's Wrongbyhey_citrus©
Sitting crunched up in a tight ball in the armchair, knees hugged to chest, chin on knees, thumb wedged firmly in mouth, his eighteen-year-old daughter looked every bit the pouty little sulkmonster she'd been as a tantrum-prone toddler. From the hallway he looked on dotingly. His blonde angel. Where did the years go? He took off his shoes and breathed relief as his weary socked feet sank into the deep carpet. He slung his grey suit jacket over the banister and loosened his tie. Padding into the kitchen, hand raking his short grey hair, he called out,
"Cup of tea, pumpkin?"
From the living room came a sullen grunt. He sighed, remembering a time when he would have received a sparkling, "Yes please, Daddy!" in response, and a big hug upon his arrival home too. The dreaded teenage years had put paid to that. Still, she was a good girl. Good grades, good friends from good families. She was about to graduate in the top 3 of her class. He knew he could trust her to be sensible. This trust, this close bond that existed between them was what had got them through these difficult few years since his wife, her mother, had passed away. All they'd had was each other. He worried about her growing up without a female role model, worried she was too much of a tomboy with her sports and her lack of interest in fashion and makeup, even though she was physically a woman now. Boys too, he mused as he poured boiling water into their mugs. She'd never shown much of an interest in them or had any serious or long-lasting boyfriends. But for this of course he was glad. Like any protective father he was keenly attuned to anything that could hurt his daughter, and boys were number one on that list.
He carried the two steaming mugs of tea into the living room and coastered them on the coffee table. He looked expectantly at his daughter. She gave him the barest of glances and mumbled an unidentifiable word.
"Pardon me, young lady?" he asked.
She jerked her head around, pulling the thumb out of her mouth.
"I said, THANK YOU!"
Anger flashed through him at her defiant tone, but just as he was about to reprimand her he saw that her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks tear-streaked. Immediately his anger melted and he rushed to kneel down beside her chair.
"Sweetie, what is it? What's the matter?" She stared ahead at the TV; some garish sitcom blared canned laughter at them. He grabbed the remote and pushed the OFF button, the screen obediently shrinking to black.
"Hey!" she protested.
"Baby, look at me. Look at me," he insisted, taking her chin in his hand and pulling it firmly around to face him. "Tell Daddy what's wrong."
When she spoke, her voice was small.
"You're going to be pissed at me."
"Language, young lady! Why would I be... angry with you? What did you do?"
"It wasn't... I didn't... It wasn't me, I mean..."
"Well then, what?" he pressed patiently.
She looked up at him, nervously, heartbreakingly doe-eyed.
"Okay Daddy, but you have to promise not to be... um, angry, okay?"
"Honey, you know I can't make that promise without knowing what the matter is."
"Okay sweetie, here's the deal. If you've done nothing wrong, I promise not to be angry. Deal?"
"So go on then. What happened?"
"Well. I was at school. You know we all go down to the bottom field on our lunch? The one by the woods?"
"You know you're not supposed to..."
"Dad!" she interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Everyone does, okay? The teachers all know about it, most of them don't even care unless you're smoking weed or something."
"You haven't been..."
"Dad! No, of course not! God! But will you let me finish?"
"Sorry pumpkin. Go on."
"Okay. So we were down in the field. And I was there with Marie but then she went off into the woods with Craig because they're going out and they wanted to go... um, you know. Snogging and stuff."
He could feel his chest start to tighten. Stuff? What was that supposed to mean? Is that what they all got up to, right in the school grounds?
"So anyway I was lying in the grass listening to my Ipod and waiting for Marie 'cause we had English together after lunch. And I was lying right around the side bit where no one really goes 'cause I had a crappy morning and I wanted to be on my own. And then. And then. These two boys from another class. I'm not going to say their names, before you ask me! But these two boys came and they started calling me... all these awful names."
"Like what, sweetie?"
She was starting to tear up, her breath hitching.
"Like... like lezzer. And... and dyke," she blurted.
"My God!" The protective fury was bubbling inside him. "Why would they call you those things?"
"Because. Because I never... well, I have had boyfriends before, but... you know... I'm the only one of my friends who hasn't... you know. And because one of the boys asked me out earlier this year and I said no because he's a creep and now he keeps saying those awful things about me and I bet he's spreading it around the whole school too and he's such an asshole and God I hate him and his stupid friends too!" With this, she dissolved into tears.
Her father leaned in, scooped her up in his arms, let her sob messily onto his shoulder.
"There there. There there. It's okay. It's not your fault, sweetie. It's okay."
Those little bastards, he thought. Those evil little bastards.
Her sobs eased and she pulled away, accepting the tissue he offered her and blowing her nose noisily.
"That's not all."
"What's not all?"
"That happened. That's not all that happened."
Panic stabbed his chest. He fought to breathe. Outwardly calm, he said:
"What else happened, sweetie? You can tell me."
"Okay, but this is the part you're going to get pissed about. I just know it."
"Sweetie, just tell me."
"Okay. So they were calling me all of these names and I was so upset. Not just names, they were saying all of these things I was supposed to have done... with girls... they were being so graphic and disgusting. Dad, you know I didn't do any of that stuff, right?"
"I know, sweetie. Go on."
"And I got so pissed. I leapt up and kicked one of them. In the. In the balls!"
"Good girl! That's my girl!" He punched her affectionately on the arm.
"You're not cross about that?"
"Of course not baby, he totally deserved it."
"Okay, but what happened next... oh Daddy, I don't want to tell you!"
She picked up a cushion and buried her flushed face behind it. He gently prised it away, placed it on the floor. He held her by the shoulders, looked her straight in the eyes. Though his insides were churning, his voice was calm and controlled.
"Sweetie. Sweetie, look at me. Did they do anything to hurt you? Did they? Did those boys hurt you?"
His eyes burned into her and she trembled under his firm grasp. She lowered her eyes and spoke into her lap.
"When I... when I kicked that boy -- can we call him Tommy?"
Her father nodded.
"When I kicked Tommy he fell down and got really pissed. He was shouting and swearing and he told the other boy -- Billy -- he told Billy to grab me. And Billy's really big, he's much bigger than me, and he grabbed my arms before I could stop him and he held them behind my back. And I was kicking and struggling but I couldn't get away. And Tommy got up and called me a bitch, and he said no one does that to me, and he slapped me around the face really hard so that my ear was ringing. And he said, I'm going to teach you a lesson you... you fucking dyke, I'll show you what you've been missing. He yelled for Billy to get me on the ground, and he pushed and Billy pulled me over, and then I was on my back and Billy was holding my arms above my head and Tommy was sitting on my legs so I couldn't move. And Tommy pulled up my shirt and was touching my -- he was touching inside my bra. And Billy was laughing. And Tommy was saying you like that don't you dyke? He was pinching me really hard. Then he put his hand up my skirt. He started touching me over my knickers. And Daddy I was scared, I was really scared and I was staying stop it, please stop, but he wouldn't stop, and I could feel him rubbing himself against my leg."
"I'll kill him," said her father, calm and glassy-eyed. "I'll kill them both."
The room swirled around him in a nightmarish surreality. Visions of these boys, these animals defiling his beautiful daughter. Anguish for her suffering; despair that he hadn't been there to help her; rage, hot, homicidal rage, the desire to rip them apart with his bare hands. He was still gripping her arms and he felt as if for the first time how soft and delicate she was. How vulnerable, how precious.
"But Daddy," she continued meekly. "Daddy, listen."
"Tell me, sweetie. Tell me everything."
"I...I didn't want to like it, Daddy." she sobbed.
"What?" He was shocked out of his rage and despair, certain he could not have heard her right.
"I didn't want to like it," she repeated in the tiniest of voices. "But he kept touching me... there. And he took off my knickers and he was touching me right on my... you know. And I don't know why, I didn't want him to do it but when he kept doing it, it started to feel -- it started to feel good."
She buried her head in his chest, cheeks burning with shame.
"Please don't hate me, Daddy."
She spoke muffled into his chest, her breath warm and damp through his shirt.
"Sweetie, I need you to tell me what happened next."
He didn't know how he could keep his voice so level, so controlled, when he could hardly breathe for... for what? Anger? Disappointment? Fear? Something else, something... oh god, she was so small in his arms, how could this be happening?
"Baby, tell me," he repeated.
She backed away from his chest, looked up at him from teary eyes and continued.
"I realised I wasn't struggling any more. That I didn't want to escape. All I could think about was how good he was making me feel, his fingers on me and in...inside me. And Billy's hands on my chest, feeling my boobs. They both kept leaning down and kissing me, sticking their tongues in my mouth really roughly, and it felt really wrong but really good too."
He could feel an uncomfortable tightening in his suit trousers. There was no denying it to himself now. His senses were clouded with lust. He was aware of her breath on him, the softness of her skin, the smell of her hair. You pervert! You sicko! he chided himself desperately. She's your daughter, for Christ's sake! But the heat coming off her... and it had been so long since he'd been with a woman... a woman... he hadn't even noticed that his little girl had become a woman, with all these womanly feelings.
"Baby," he said in a hoarse voice. "has any boy ever touched you like that before?"
"No, Daddy! I promise, I promise!"
"Okay sweetie, I believe you. Have you... ever touched yourself like that before?"
"Daddy!" she squealed.
Mortified, she tried to bury her head in his chest again, and his stomach lurched with excitement.
"It's okay, baby. Look at me, sweetie. It's totally normal to touch yourself, to make yourself feel good."
"Oh my god, Dad, you're so embarrassing! I know, alright! They taught us that stuff in health class years ago, even if you were too scared to talk to me about it after Mum died. God!"
"Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. It hasn't been easy for me, you know. Without your mother around."
"I'm sorry, Dad. Of course it has been. For us both."
He stroked her blonde hair tenderly. "You're a real woman now. I sometimes forget. Your mother would be proud."
He rose to his feet.
"Sweetie, my knees are hurting from kneeling like that. Poor old man, eh! Come and sit on the sofa with me."
He held out his hand to her, pulled her to her feet. He lead her to the sofa, thrilling at the feel of her warm hand in his. He sank down onto the end cushion, crossing his legs as he did so. She jumped down beside him, sat cross-legged and facing him on the middle cushion. He caught a glimpse of her white knickers before she folded her school skirt down over her legs; his cock twitched involuntarily. He picked up her hand again, and said to her,
"Pumpkin, tell me what happened next. It's okay, I'm not mad at you, I promise."
She took a deep breath.
"Well... Tommy unzipped his trousers and he took his..."
"God, Dad, you know!"
"It's okay, sweetie. We're both grownups now. Don't think you can shock your old man!"
"Okay, he took his DICK out. He told me to touch it. It was all warm and stiff and he kept moving it in my hand. Billy took his out as well and put it in my other hand so I was touching both of their dicks at once. And they were both lying next to me on the grass and touching me and kissing me still. Then Billy started to move his dick back and forth in my hand really fast, and then he squirted all of his... his cum over my hand. And then Tommy did the same. And then they stopped kissing me and touching me, they just put their dicks back in their trousers and stood up and brushed all the grass off themselves, and I was lying on the grass still with my skirt up and my top up, and they started walking off and Tommy said, 'Later, dyke!' and they both laughed. And I felt so bad and confused, because they just left me there and at first I didn't want them to touch me and then I didn't want them to stop and I wanted that good feeling back and I felt like they tricked me, those assholes tricked me and I hate them oh Daddy I hate them!"
She started sobbing again, shifting position and leaning her head into the space between his arm and chest as he wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders. Her arm was around his waist, her chest hitching against him as she sobbed.
"And that's everything, sweetie?"
He could hardly talk. His erection strained painfully against his trousers but he didn't dare adjust himself.
"Yes, Daddy. I cleaned myself up and got dressed and sat and waited for Marie, and when she came back I didn't tell her what had happened and we just went to English like normal. And then afterwards I came straight home."
"That's my good girl."
"But I can't stop thinking about what happened. How can I hate them so much and still want it to happen again?"
"Now you listen to me, sweetie." He was stern now, forcing that fatherly boom. "You are not -- NOT -- to see those boys again, do you hear me?"
"No buts! I mean it! What they did was wrong. Do you hear me? Wrong. Now I will go to the school, go to their parents, go to the police -- wait, let me finish -- if that's what you want me to do. But you're big enough now to make that decision for yourself. If you decide you don't want me to do that, I will respect that decision. But whatever happens, you are forbidden to see them or talk to them again. You are to stay away from that field, and you are to stay with your friends at all times, is that clear?"
"Now," he said, tone softening. "Give me a big hug."
She nestled into him. He put his arms around her, squeezed her, closed his eyes, kissed her soft hair, kissed her forehead.
"No matter how old you get, you'll alway be my special little pumpkin. And of course I'm not angry with you. You've done nothing wrong."
She squeezed him back, sighed.
"Thank you, Daddy. I was so worried."
"I know, sweetie, I know. Shh now. It's okay. It's okay. Daddy's here."
His hands shook as he stroked her back. His heart was beating fast. She was so warm, so soft. She was his daughter. He knew she trusted him implicitly. He hated himself, he hated himself but he felt unable to stop, mind filled with images of those filthy teenage boys humping their dirty little cocks into her sweet hands, about them defiling her, spilling their filthy loads all over his precious angel. His sweet angel all covered in cum; abandoned on the grass, humiliated and alone and unsatisfied. Those filthy little reprobates! He was filled with poisonous hatred and jealousy and lust. Why couldn't he have been the one to introduce his sweet daughter to sex? He, who would have been gentle and loving and caring, he who would teach and nurture her and only be concerned with her pleasure?
He continued to stroke her back, her arms, her neck, her shoulders; his head filled with filth and anguish and self-recrimination. He was sick, he was sick! But he felt powerless to stop. His daughter was giving out little contented purrs in response to his stroking, which encouraged him to be more daring. His hand moved from her back to her side; down her side and over her bottom. Her eyes were closed. Her left leg was now hooked over his, her head on his chest, her arms around his body. His firm hand followed this path, stroking, stroking, exploring her body ever further, hardly daring to breathe. Her knee lay so close to the swollen bulge of his crotch that he could almost feel it. He imagined he really could feel it, imagined her rubbing against it, gentle at first then harder. He allowed his hand to brush her small breast and he felt her tense and then relax, not pulling away, not disgusted or indignant. He brushed it again and this time she did not tense. She shifted against his leg and he felt a shock of adrenaline as he realised how tightly she was gripping his leg between her thighs.
"Does that feel good, baby?" he asked.
"Mmm, yes Daddy," she replied drowsily.
He couldn't stand it any more. He began to work his hand up under her shirt. When he felt her tense, he said, "Shh sweetie, it's okay, it's okay, it's only me, it's only Daddy." He stroked her bare, soft stomach. Slowly he worked his hand further up until he could feel the edge of her bra. He let his finger graze her nipples through the thin cotton, and she let out a little whimper.
"That okay, baby?"
"I'm going to take your shirt and bra off. I want to see what a woman you've become."
"It's okay, baby. You know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."
He unbuttoned her white school shirt and removed it. He then reached behind her back; unhooked her bra and slid it down over her breasts and arms. His hands returned to her breasts, exploring the little nubs, the pink little nipples standing up hard and perky. He took one and rolled it around between his thumb and forefinger, then increased the pressure, squeezing and tweaking it.
"Does that feel good, baby?"
But he already knew the answer. Her breath came hard and ragged; she ground herself against his leg. He felt as though his cock would burst if it didn't get some attention soon. But he held back; for his daughter's sake he took his time, playing with her nipples as she moaned softly. He picked her up and manoeuvred her so that she lay on her back on the sofa, with him lying on his side facing her. Bending down he kissed her softly on the lips, feeling her lips part under his. Oh, he had kissed his daughter before but never like this! She leaned forward and crushed her lips against him. He felt her tongue snake out nervously to meet his, and he responded in kind, pushing his into her warm mouth. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her closer to him as their tongues battled. His other hand found her nipple again; pulled and twisted as she moaned into his mouth. He pulled away and kissed down her neck, down her chest. He kissed and licked her breasts, taking each nipple in turn in his mouth and sucking on it as he played with the opposite one. He marvelled at their sensitivity, at how wantonly she responded, humping the air above her, pussy desperate for attention. His cock was now pressed into her hip and the sensation was almost too much for him. Still sucking at her nipple, he slid his other hand down and under her skirt. He traced a gentle line over her knickers, sending an electric jolt through them both. He grew bolder, rubbing harder, and she responded by rocking her hips up and down, trying to guide his hand to the place that felt best. Sweat was pouring off him.