Domming Daughter Dani – Part 1 of 51 - INTRODUCTION

copyright: This work is released under the Creative Commons Attribution Only (CC BY) License. You can copy it, paste it, change it, try and get some other fool to pay you money for it. I don’t care. Just acknowledge my original authorship and if you change anything, be upfront about the fact that you changed it. If that ain’t a square deal, I’ll kiss your ass.

Story codes: mdom, male dominant, incest, inc, true, bdsm, some pedo, spanking, mmf and mff. I’m sure there’s more, but that should be enough to get the story into the search results of the people who would appreciate it most.

This is not a true story. Got it? The story code says it’s true. You’re going to make a value judgement rather quickly as to whether it’s true or not. But if it eases the mind of worried little do-gooders out there in Outrage Nation, permit me to offer you a gift. Here it is: “Not true.” Kay?

True or not, this story doesn’t feature a nine year old girl talking like a porn princess and begging for sex like a depraved meth whore. It doesn’t feature a fifteen year old cheerleader taking on the entire high school football team. There’s no freak-of-nature stud who can come six times in a row without so much as a moment of recharging.

Unfortunately, like many of the stories you find in an incest newsgroup, it does contain the cliche of the absentee mother. My wife, Dani’s mom, died of bacterial complications from a very routine surgery. They were taking a non-malignant cyst out of her thigh for the second time in two years. The hospital had a super strep bug somewhere in the operating room. The suddenness shocked everyone. It sucks. I loved her. I still miss her. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I sat down to write out some tips on how a guy can (and did) effectively groom his own daughter for sex and stay out of jail. It turned out that the story of how I came to learn what I know about grooming girls was more complicated than I first realized. My grooming tips are nothing without my credibility. My credibility presents itself in a sprawling, novel length account. This story is looong. Loooooong. Before you invest a lot of time in a detailed account of how I turned my daughter into a sex toy when all you were looking for was a ridiculous and improbable jerk story, one of those with the nine-ten-eleven year old trollop begging her father to “Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me with that big throbbing cock!”.... Uh... Fair warning. This is not the story for you.

Srsly. You could read three Vonnegut novels in the same amount of time you waste reading this. You can read everything J.D. Salinger ever published. Go. Invest your hours more productively. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

When the sex scenes finally unfold, you aren’t going to get the usual comic book Manga pedo sex. Some young girls like sex and some don’t. It takes the right girl, the right petri dish home environment, and a lot of properly-paced grooming. Most of that grooming is tedious, and not sexy at all, to be honest.

Sure, you can train a young girl to recite scripted lines, but you also have to maintain some shred of paternal life with that same girl the other twenty-two hours of the day when your dick isn’t hard. This is a rare true incest story, told without (much) varnish, and wrapped up with a happy ending. So far. So far. That’s the thing about raping your daughter. You can’t unrape her. There’s a point where the power shifts from “Daddy’s little obedient girl” to “Vindictive middle-age bitch with issues.” It will never really be over until I’m dead or she is. 

But before we get to the happy ending, we have to go back to the start. The unhappy start.