Bdsm Sex Stories

by Olga Menson

  I do not require any assistance, money or otherwise. I am doing fine. I am romantically involved with someone currently and we are discussing marriage. I will be moving shortly and I will not be providing my new address.

  I request that you do not attempt to contact me again. Please respect my wishes in this matter, I do not wish to contact a lawyer but will if necessary.

  Best Wishes,

  Karen'

  Huh. He told the truth about the letter, at least in part. She didn't seem to be very angry. A part of my mind was screaming at me to think, but I ignored it. The letter didn't mean much. Mom had always told me that he had been both awful and completely uninterested in being a parent, refusing to even consider involvement in my life or child support. That's what she said. Over and over, whenever I asked.

  No.

  No. I don't understand it. I won't. No.

  Goddammit, stop. I felt the tears coming despite my wishes. Just like the thoughts.

  'I do not require any assistance, money or otherwise...'

  'I do not require any assistance,'

  'I do not'

  'I'

  Not we. No entreaties for child support. No mention of abandoned responsibilities. She mentioned marrying my step-dad though. The fucker. She divorced him not long after. But that means that at the time this letter was written I would have been at least...five. A five-year-old daughter, and not one word. That isn't the sort of thing you forget in a letter. And based on her responses, dad didn't ask her about me.

  No. Stop.

  There would have been some mention of me. There should have been. She said she asked him for support. Begged him to be involved. But here it was, her big chance to tell him that he had better start paying attention to his responsibilities. He'd even apologized for being a bad boyfriend. And instead, she had refused help, told him she was moving and threatened him (politely) with a lawsuit if he reached out to her. All the better to keep him from dropping by or searching for her and...

  Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

  And...

  No.

  And discovering by accident that he had a daughter.

  Oh no. No. No.

  Now that the door was open, all of the signs that I had been ignoring, all of the little kindnesses which he'd shown me. All the indicators that he felt immediately protective towards me despite me being a stranger. All of it came out. Of course, he didn't know. There was no way an honest, reliable, decent and kind man like him would ever have abandoned a little girl. He might have maintained a distance if asked, but he would provide support, and do everything possible to see her if he could. He would have been an ideal father for a willful and curious child like me. A laid-back balance to my intelligent but critical and neurotic mother.

  So naturally, that meant that everything I believed and had done was based on lies. Mom lied. For her own reasons that I'm sure she thought were important. She never did like complications in her life. She never did have problems with deceiving people "for their own good".

  He didn't even know where she was and she kept my stepfather's name after the divorce so he wouldn't have known about her funeral.

  And if all of this were based on lies, then...no, fucking stop it. That was enough. I knew enough for one day.

  Then, my brain continued mercilessly, that made me a thief. No, that wasn't it. It made me a lying thieving whore who seduced her own father so she could get rich and destroy him. I don't know why I was surprised to discover this, after what I had to do in L.A. to stay off of the street. There it was. The simple truth. Finally.

  If only I hadn't already done what I did with him. Maybe then I could have confessed to him. But now? I imagined his face, his kind eyes looking down at me as I told him what I'd done, and why. Telling him about the months I'd researched and plotted. What I had prepared to do to him, the only innocent family member that I was aware of. I imagined that he'd be angry, maybe hit me.

  No, I knew that wasn't right. That would be easier. That would enable us both to be guilty and we could start over. I wanted to be punished so I could be forgiven. But this was bigger than a little bit of physical pain that I would probably just find a way to enjoy.

  I imagined his heart breaking, his eyes showing such disappointment, such sorrow that his only blood would do this to him. I saw it, and it burned me. I would not see that. I would never see that. I couldn't bear it.

  So what did that leave? I calmly put everything back in the envelope and returned it. I wouldn't want him to have a hard time finding it whenever he needed it. I went downstairs and sat on the warm couch where I'd had the only really positive sexual experience of my life, and at last, the tears came. Great choking sobs and ugly crying. Real grief over what I'd done and become. It could have been five minutes or two hours. I don't know. When it ended my mind had thankfully shut itself off. I was damaged enough for one day.

  Then daddy came home. I was really happy to see him, at last. No anger, no rage, no frustration, just simple joy at seeing the man I loved. The man I could never love.

  I felt nausea building inside me as he showed concern. For me. No! Don't trust me! Don't! I told him I felt sick. It was not a lie. I went upstairs and into my bathroom. I vomited until there was nothing left by dry heaves. Then I went to bed. A solution would present itself to me with some rest. Yes. Sleep was needed. Sleep and darkness and void. It would be fine.

  I woke up to him knocking on my door. It took me a moment to realize where I was. For a single second everything was fine, it was just my man, my father, coming to check up on me. I haven't been feeling well and that's what a good daddy would do, after all. Then I remembered who I really was and it came crashing down again.

  "I'm still not feeling that great," I told him, truthfully.

  "I'm going to be right down the hall. Just shout if you want soup, or 7-up or something. I don't mind making it. You really don't look well."

  I laughed ruefully.

  "I'm really not well. I promise to tell you if I need anything. Or if I get worse. Or better."

  I don't know why I threw that last bit in there.

  "Good. Ok, sleep well. That rain is coming tonight so I probably won't be able to go to town anyway. I'll look in on you later. I...I love you."

  And then he was gone and I was alone again with my thoughts.

  It honestly didn't take me long to plan what to do next. I was always good at planning. First I'd get some sleep, then I'd go see my daddy. I set an alarm. Four hours seemed like a reasonable enough time to 'get better' from an illness. It was still easy for me to lie. I laughed. I was who I was, but there was no need to hurt anyone else.

  I slept dreamlessly until my tablet's alarm woke me. I went to the bathroom and drank some water. Then I went to my daddy's room.

  I wanted to give him something. So that he might remember our time together and have a nice reminder of me. Something selfless.

  And I also, quite selfishly, wanted to spend the rest of the night in his arms.

  I got in his bed on my knees. I didn't wake him yet. I just watched him sleeping, breathing softly. I truly did love him. That was real, at least. Eventually, I pulled my t-shirt off and then my panties. I wanted to be as pleasing as possible to him tonight.

  I gently moved the light blanket and put my small hand slowly down his pants. I put it on his flaccid cock and began to stroke him. He was hard immediately. I smiled. My daddy was a sexy and virile man. I was proud of him.

  His eyes fluttered awake, confused at first, but then loving as he recognized the nubile little girl stroking his cock.

  "I felt better and I wanted to do something for you. Is that ok?" I asked, my eyes large. I was aware that my voice must have had a 'little girl' quality but I really did want, no, need his permission. If he didn't want me I would never push him. I'd done enough without his consent.

  "Oh honey that feels so good. Yes."

  That was enough. I pulled the blanket back and then his waistband down. I wanted to moun
t his cock so badly, to have my daddy's cum inside me, but I didn't deserve that. So I used my mouth.

  "Oh god..."

  I started slowly, licking him from base to the glans at the tip. Like a delicious ice-cream cone. He tasted clean and so masculine. He moaned and put his hand in my hair. He didn't grip it or force me, although I wouldn't have minded. He simply stroked it gently as I pleasured him. I knelt between his legs, facing him, then took just the tip in my mouth. I wanted him to see his beautiful cock in my tiny mouth. I knew he would love it. He did.

  "You're so beautiful, so young and lovely..."

  Even now he wasn't calling me names, telling me I was his slut. He could have, I wouldn't have minded. But the things he said weren't like the things other men said. And they made me so fucking wet. My daddy thought I was beautiful. I didn't care about anything else.

  Although I wanted this to be purely about him, I was a selfish little slut. My hand found its way to my cunt and I started playing with my clit. I was so turned on by doing this, by his words, by his taste.

  I took him deeper, halfway now. He gasped and moaned and didn't speak. I took him into my throat.

  He groaned loudly. I almost came from that alone. My throat was small and tight and I gagged but held him in there for as long as I could, then took a breath and did it again. This wasn't my first time giving head to a man, but it was the first time that I really enjoyed it and loved who I was giving it to.

  I realized that I truly didn't care if I came. I just wanted to serve him, to do something for him for once in my miserable, worthless, ungrateful life. Anything to be a good daughter for my loving daddy. Anything to forget how awful I was, even for a little while. All of my plans were shattered. I knew how tomorrow would go. How it would end. I wanted just a little more happiness and stability, a little more time with my love. Then I'd do what I had to do. What I understood was the only option, given everything I had done. It would be best for him in the end. He'd see it and maybe even appreciate it one day, that I made things easy and didn't put him through a trial.

  I felt him twitch in my mouth and I sped up. I wanted his cum like nothing else. I moved up and down, sloppy and gagging but so eager to please him. I gagged and his cock made the lewdest noises sliding in and out of my tight little mouth. I stopped working on my clit and started fingering myself. We climaxed together. It was beautiful.

  As my body shook I felt his warm seed filling my mouth. So much of it. God, he was such a strong man, so virile. I wanted to drink every drop but some escaped me. I swallowed what I could. I wanted him to know that I loved every bit of him and whatever came from him.

  I smiled at him, my eyes watering, his cum leaking on my chin. It felt like the first honest and good thing I'd done in forever. He smiled back at me, his eyes full of compassion. He had kleenex by his bed and he lifted my chin and cleaned it tenderly. Then he kissed me on the lips, passionately and slowly.

  "Can I sleep here tonight?" I asked, my voice trembling.

  "Of course, honey. Come here."

  Then he wrapped me in his warm and strong arms. He pulled me close to his chest and held me tight. God, he smelled good. I felt safe. I slept.

  I dreamed that he said I was his good girl and that he was proud of me.

  -- James --

  I held her in my arms. There was something so desperately loving about the way she had serviced me. She was limp and warm in my arms. I felt my cock hardening again from being close to her tight young ass and from having my hands on her small, pert breasts. I hadn't wanted anyone so badly since I'd first bedded Nina, taking her from behind as she begged me to do. I didn't wake her.

  She said that she was better but she still felt a bit warm to me, and the way she was sleeping so deeply, I realized that she needed rest. Tomorrow I would ask her who she was and what she really wanted. But I would do it my way, at the table or on the couch, after telling her that I loved her and would accept her. None of what had happened tonight was fake. She was at least as much in love with me as I was with her. Everything else would sort itself out.

  When I woke she was gone. My gut told me something was wrong. I threw on jeans and a shirt and went downstairs. The rains had finally come. The sky was terrible and grey, and there was unseasonable thunder. It came down in torrents, washing down off of the mountains. The river would be swollen beyond its banks soon if it wasn't already.

  I looked around and there was nothing but silence, the room dark. Oh god, where was she? Something bad was going to happen, maybe had happened. I was about to start searching the house when I glanced out the window and saw her there, standing on the covered porch.

  It was in the high 40s outside and she wore nothing but shorts and a t-shirt. She must have been freezing but she was there, arms at her sides, staring at the rain. Something about the way she stood worried me more than anything else. I pulled shoes on and went outside. She looked up, surprised, then smiled. It was not reassuring.

  "There you are. I wanted to wake you but you were sleeping so soundly that it seemed...wrong."

  She laughed. It was carefree and spoke of happier times.

  "Hey. Aren't you cold?" I moved toward her, thinking that if I could hug her, hold her, I could convince her to come inside with me. Then we would sort everything out.

  "No!" she shouted at me stepping back, "Stay there!"

  I stopped, shocked. There was real fear in her voice. Had I looked threatening? I stepped back.

  "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to warm you up, ok? I'm worried about you."

  She bit her lip, uncertain, and her eyes filled up with tears.

  "I know you are. You're so good. I don't...I don't deserve you. I've been lying to you."

  I waited. It looked like she was going to tell me the truth in her own time.

  "When mom died I waited for you. I knew that you must have been notified, somehow. That's what I thought. Even if you had abandoned me...you'd come and rescue me. I was so stupid and trusting."

  I must have looked confused. She went on.

  "Oh. Oh no. I meant mom. I trusted her and she had lied. You would have come. I know that now. Don't worry. I know. But you didn't know. Because mom never told you about me. You never even knew you had a daughter."

  She laughed, bitterly this time.

  As soon as she said it I knew it was true. Holy shit. She was...and we had done...oh my god. I was too stunned to speak but she wasn't.

  "I fooled you. I did it to get your money and...and to hurt you. But I didn't know how good you were! I wouldn't have if I had known. When Mom died there was no money, just debts. The house was rented but the landlord said I could stay if...if I made him happy. So I did, for a while. It was easy, just handjobs and sometimes with my mouth. He wanted more though and I wouldn't fuck him. No. Even a little slut like me has her limits. So I was out on the street."

  "And I was so angry, daddy. It wasn't right or fair or anything. I was never the best student, never the best at anything, but I was good. I tried to be good for mom. I didn't get in trouble and I worked hard and paid for part of the rent."

  "I crashed at friend's houses. Some of them were really nice, but couldn't let me stay forever. Others wanted what the landlord did. I'm a good little slut, daddy. I'm sorry, I know you don't want to hear this but you need to know how awful I am. I still worked and saved and...and I planned. I found things out, about you, about your neighbor, I had an idea. If you abandoned me then you owed me. And I'd take what I was owed. I knew what men wanted, and I wasn't afraid to...to seduce my own father. I'm sick, I know, but it's different now. Please believe me. I found out. I saw the letter and I know mom was lying and I love you. Please...just believe that."

  Well, shit.

  That fit all the facts that I knew. The lies. The conflict. The love she'd shown me in unguarded moments. Goddamnit. I saw it too late.

  To my surprise, I didn't give a fuck about any of it. I didn't care that we almost fucked. She was my lit
tle girl and I loved her. I loved her like a daughter and a woman and that was all that mattered. I loved her unconditionally.

  "Honey...I do believe you. All of it. It all makes sense. I forgive you. I love you. You're my little girl. Come inside with me and we can make this right."

  She sighed like I had just given her the best gift in the world. I could almost see the load lifting off of her shoulders. She wasn't ok, but maybe she was heading there. I stepped closer, but she stepped away. I was confused.

  "Daddy," she said, "please remember that my name was Gemma."

  Was. Why did she say 'was'? Oh fuck.

  She bolted. I didn't expect it, not even for a second. She was off the porch and headed to the path into the woods, barefoot and fleet as a deer. She was so fucking fast. I had longer legs but I wasn't going to catch her. Not with my knees. She was hopeless and alone and was doing something drastic.

  For once though, with sick certainty, I knew where she was headed. It was obvious. The fucking river. Oh god no. No no no, not now. For a moment I was ready to give up. I was slow, she was fast. That was the math of the situation.

  But I knew the land and she didn't. She took the path. I ran and I ran straight. I knew where she would come out. I knew that if I went through the brush and the trees and the rocks I could beat her. It was shorter. I could do it. For fucks sake let me do it.

  I ran faster than I ever had. I was in the brush and it cut at me. I felt it on my legs and arms and face. Something flowed from my forehead into my eye and stung it. I ignored it, I knew that the rain would wash it away. I was in the trees. Much easier going. The needles were wet and slick but also soft. I stumbled a bit but made good time. Then I hit the rocks.

  I tried to skip over the first one and landed wrong. No, not my fucking ankle. I twisted and fell hard. I was dizzy, lost track of where I was, the wind knocked out of me. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I think that probably should have ended my running.