His response is nothing like I expected it to be. He doesn’t seem to care either way, but wanted to see what I would say. It’s how he’s been most days lately and I live with it as best as I can.
“Is there anything else you needed, Daddy?” I ask him softly, pushing my hair back behind my ear.
He looks me up and down, his eyes taking in my naked skin as well as my bare soul, a smirk crossing his weathered lips. His licks them, pushes himself off the wall, and shakes his head.
“Get those fucking kids back in this house, then bring your ass back to bed,” he tells me in a stern tone as he lies back down and yawns t
iredly. “Maybe if you put in a better performance than that bullshit you fed me, I’ll think about you more often instead of them.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I say softly as I get to my feet and hurry across the room. I wrap a robe around myself, secure the belt tightly around my waist and run down the stairs.
He’s warning me about the one thing I’ve feared for so long.
He has his eyes set on our children and I have to be better in bed to keep his hands on me so that his touch doesn’t wander further than it should.
I grind my hips as best as I can—the way he taught me to. He showed me once the way he likes to be pleasured and even though it shouldn’t be as hard as it is, he makes it that way. He wants me to improve, he said, so that I don’t have to worry about him doing to them what he’s done to me.
I lean down, pressing the palms of my hands firmly on his shoulders. He lets out a low moan, bares his teeth, and watches me with unbridled passion in his eyes.
He sits up, wraps his arms around me and tells me to go faster. He’s getting close to his release—that’s the only thing Daddy ever cares about—his pleasure and not mine.
I close my eyes as I rest my forehead against his, moving my hips faster, taking in more of his cock than I already had and whimper slightly.
“Daddy …”
My voice trails off as he digs his fingers into my sweaty flesh. He grips my hips as he begins to thrust up into me.
I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders and close my eyes. He’ll be done soon, I’ll be allowed to clean up, and then the nightmare will be over for now.
He holds me tighter and thrusts one more time up into me. I feel his seed shoot into me, warm and grasping to plant life inside of me. I pray that it fails. We shouldn’t have anymore children—not in the world I’m forced to live in.
He slaps my ass which is my signal to get off him, and he lets out a content sigh as he lays back down.
“You’re getting better, Darbs. Much better,” he says in a tired tone.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I reply as I move off the bed and get to my feet. “I’m gonna go clean up and check on the kids. I’ll bring you a glass of water, okay?”
“Yeah, whatever,” he replies dismissively.
I reach for my robe again and dress myself as best as I can on the way to the bathroom. I reach for a hand towel and dampen it with warm water, cleaning myself up, then tossing it into the hamper. I walk down to the children’s room and peek inside.
I smile softly, resting my head against the cracked door. Cleo is sleeping with her favorite stuffed teddy bear in her arms, Richter is sleeping on the top bunk across the room like a big boy and Skylar is sleeping on the bottom.
But I know those three like I know the back of my hand, and by the time morning comes, Skylar will be cuddled up with her little sister and Richter will be on the bottom bunk.
It’s funny how they rotate the way they do, but they’re happy in their state of ignorant bliss and I intend to keep them that way.
I close the door softly and head into the kitchen. Our house is a big home, comfortable, and very private. That’s one thing that Daddy never spared on—the need for privacy in his home.
No one ever came to visit, and we were never allowed off the property. If groceries were needed, he would go out on his own and get them.
Sometimes he’d be gone for days at a time and I silently found myself hoping that maybe he had a heart attack and died where he stood.
No luck so far, I think with a sigh as I reach into the cupboard for a large glass. I walk to the refrigerator and pull out the pitcher of water, filling it almost to the brim, then setting the pitcher back inside.
I stare at the glass for a moment, wondering if there’s something, anything, that I could possibly mix into this to end his pain and mine, but I know that I would never be able to hurt him.
He’s my father.