Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 You wake up to heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.  Fear immediately sets
in, along with unwanted arousal.  You know what's coming.  It's the same
thing every night.  You lie on your stomach and pretend to be asleep.  You
desperately want to sleep.  You want to be anywhere but here.  Tears begin
forming and slowly run down your cheeks.  The sick feeling that you know so
well returns.  You want to die.
   You hear him pause for a second and grunt outside your door.  He turns
the handle.  You hear the door open and he walks in, shutting it behind
him. He pauses again.  He begins walking towards the end of your bed.  Your
grip on the pillow tightens.  You feel the mattress bend and hear it
groaning as he sits on the end.
   He grabs your thighs just above the knees and drags you towards him. 
You don't do anything, until he flips you onto your back, your ass on his
lap.  Another lot of tears form.  You watch him.  He looks into your eyes
briefly before pulling your panties down.  Your vision is obscured by your
tears.
   He places his finger just above the beginning of your slit.  He moves it
downwards, and parts your outer lips, bringing his finger back up slightly
to press on the pink flesh that is part of your external organs.  You're
not sure if he does it intentionally or not, but he presses directly on
your urethra.  It stings, it burns.  Your stomach twitches.
   He finds your reddened hole, the most sore spot on your body, between
the lips that would have been sealed tight sometime during in your early
days.  He presses his finger on it, trying to get it in.  It doesn't fit.
You make a light noise to show that it hurts.  He removes both of his hands
from you, and you pray that he'll leave.  Just like you do every night.
   And like every other night, he doesn't.  He tugs you off his lap,
flipping you back onto your stomach.  Your ass is slightly raised, pressing
your flat chest into the bed.  It hurts.  You just suck it up.
   You stare at the wall to your right.  You hear the familiar jingling
sound of his belt unbuckling.  He never takes his clothes fully off, unless
you're filming.  After a few seconds, you feel him up against you.  He rubs
his cock up and down your most disgusting, unholy area.  You let out a sob.
   He pulls away and positions himself at your entrance.  He pushes.
   Tears are running freely now.  You half-shriek, half-groan with your
mouth shut in agony.  You're crying in the way he hates.  Sobbing.  Your
chest jerks with every gasp for air.  You don't understand why it hurts so
much.  You don't understand why he can't get it in.  He says good girls
adjust to it.  You're obviously not good.
   He moves his dick away and brings his finger back.  He rubs spit on you,
sucks his finger and shoves it in.  You scream, and try to take a breath.
You can't.  You can't breathe.  You're going to die, just like every other
night.
   He presses another finger in.  Your body is trying desperately to expel
him.  The pain is overwhelming.  He withdraws his fingers, relieving some
of it.  Yet again, he positions his cock, and presses.  It slips in.
   Blinding white agony.  You can't breathe.  You can't see.  All you can
hear is your own screaming and sobbing.  You're not aware of him.  You're
only aware of the pain.
   It continues for eternity before you feel the warmth in you.  He's done.
He's going to pull out and leave you.  You feel him take it out, removing
some of the sharper pain with it.  You hear the band of his boxers snap and
his belt being fastened.
   You collapse on the bed, your body shaking uncontrollably.  All your
muscles down there are twitching and spasming, trying to get rid of his
disgusting love.  You know it's going to come out pink, mixed with blood.
You know your abused lower half will never have the chance to heal.  You
know you're dirty.  Your body stares at the corner of the room.  You don't
know.  You're not there.
   There's nothing there.
  
Daughter