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– Rough daddy/daughter incest ahead! Please comment and enjoy. –
Something was bothering Kara. At first, I thought she was angry with me. Then I supposed it was just because she was out of high school. Maybe working fulltime as a waitress was too much pressure for her. The real world is a lot to handle for an 18-year-old girl.
Whatever the problem was, she had been melancholy ever since graduation. I knew there were some things a girl couldn’t talk to her father about, so I recommended a therapist. I’m a believer in therapy myself. I needed it after my wife died. But Kara had been a child back then. She could barely remember her mother.
Kara had always been rebellious, and I knew it was my fault for letting society raise her. I just didn’t know how to take care of a child, and by the time I figured it out, she was a teenager. I used to spank her, but the more I spanked her, the worse she seemed to get.
A few months back on her 18th birthday, she had come home at 3:00 a.m., stinking of alcohol. She had taunted me that night, said she didn’t care if I spanked her, or grounded her, or took away her cell phone. I’d been furious, but I’d also had enough. I sat her down and told her she was an adult, that the spankings were over, that she could set her own curfew, that I was done chasing after her to do the right thing, that she was responsible for her own future. Maybe that’s when her melancholy began. Maybe that was the day the real world descended on her.
Regardless of her mood, she was generally better behaved. Instead of coming in after 1:00 a.m. every night, she was always home early, ready to work the next morning. But where was that spark that give way to fire? What was bothering her? What happened to my daughter?
“There she is,” I said as the door opened at 7:00 p.m. on a warm Friday night in July. I was sitting on the sofa with my feet up, watching TV, cold bottle of beer in my hand. I had on blue jeans, no shirt, no socks. I had worked all day in the hot sun and I was sweaty, but the roads of the world would not pave themselves. I wiped my brow, my dark brown hair sticking to my forehead. “I thought you were going out with your friends after work.”
My daughter closed the door and seemed to stare at me for a second. She had her mother’s big brown eyes, her figure too, curved hips and a heart-shaped behind, held in a tight black skirt. She looked a little sweaty herself, her long brown hair kept in a pony tail out of her face, her white blouse sticking to her smooth skin. The bottom of the fabric was tied up just beneath her breasts. I could see the outline of her bra, cupping her perky tits. They always strained against whatever she was wearing. Not that I was looking.
She shook her head, looking away from me. “I’m going to bed.”
“Just need to do some thinking.”
She whisked by me, the scent of perfume and lotion following in her wake. I sighed. What was wrong with that girl? I climbed up and followed her down the hall, stopping outside her room. I knocked on the closed the door.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh. Have you eaten?”
“No, but I’m not hungry.”
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yes, just the breakfast shift. I have therapy in the evening. Why?”
“I was thinking, do you want to do something together tomorrow afternoon before therapy, see a movie or something? I’ll take you out for a burger and a milk shake.”
“Oh, all right. If you change your mind, let me know.”
I returned to the sofa. Damn, that girl was a pain in the ass. Every time I reached out to her, she slapped my hand away. I felt like she was slipping farther away from me. And what the hell good was therapy if she wasn’t getting better?
I heard her door open. I figured she was just going to the bathroom, but she came charging into the living room. She had changed into a pair of gray shorts that hugged her crotch and a pink tank top that felt the need to point out that it was pink with the word “PINK” on it. She stood on the other side of the coffee table, her stance defensive.
“Okay, let’s get this over with.”
“Uh… wha?” I said.
“My therapist said if I wanna get better, I have to tell you what’s bothering me, but I can’t say this to your face, so she told me to bring you into therapy and she’ll help me.”
“Wait, what? Tell me what? What do you have to tell me?” I sat up straight on the sofa.
“Will you come with me to therapy tomorrow?”
“Hold on, tell me what?” I said. I was very confused. “What do you have to tell me?”
“God, Daddy! Weren’t you listening? I just said I can’t tell you! I have to bring you to therapy!”
“Okay, calm down, sweetie. You’re getting really worked up.”
“Yes, I’m worked up! I’ve been trying to invite you to therapy for five weeks!”
“Why are you shouting?” I asked.
“Because I’m having a breakthrough!”
“Are you mad at me?” I asked.
“Yes, ataşehir escort bayan I’m mad! I want you to come to therapy tomorrow, okay? 6:00 p.m. tomorrow.”
“All right. Whatever you need, sweetheart.”
She stormed off. I heard the door slam. Then it opened. “And wear a fucking t-shirt around the house!” The door slammed again.
“What the hell?”
That girl was out of her mind. I was sure about that. But I looked down at my hard chest anyway. I guess it was kind of gross, her father shirtless in the house. It wasn’t as if my daughter had never seen me without a shirt though. Still, I went to my room and pulled on a white t-shirt.
The next day, Kara was gone before I woke up. She didn’t come home at lunchtime either. I had no idea where she was, and there was no point guessing. She never told me anything. What did she want to tell me tonight though? Why would she have to take me to therapy to tell me anything?
I began to muse. Maybe she was going to move out. Not sure why she felt she needed a therapist for that. Or maybe she had done something wrong, really wrong. Hm. Killed a man? Nah… Then again, she was a rebellious child. What if she was going to tell me she was hooked on drugs? I could get her into a program. Or perhaps she was lesbian. How was I going to deal with that? She had had a few boyfriends though, but they never seemed to last. I hadn’t seen her date anyone since her prom though.
“Lesbian. Yup, that’s what it is. She’s coming out of the closet. Great. Marie, I hope you’re not rolling over in your grave. Probably rolling your eyes though. I could believe that.”
As the time edged closer to 6:00 p.m., I began to wonder where my daughter was. I figured she’d come home and we’d go to her therapist’s office together. At 5:50 I received a text.
“Changed my mind. Don’t come. Just forget about it,” she wrote.
Now I was angry. Something was wrong with that girl, and I was going to find out what. But I knew her well enough if I argued, she wouldn’t show up to therapy at all. I replied with, “K.” Then I got into my car and drove to the therapist’s office.
It was one of those buildings that had multiple offices in it. The woman at the desk was reading a magazine. She raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Hello. I’m Will Drake. I’m here to see Dr. Pearson.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. Yes. Sort of.”
“Which is it?”
“Let’s go with yes.”
“She’s with a client.”
“I know she is. My daughter asked me to come tonight.”
“Hold on.” The woman picked up her phone and dialed. Someone answered. “Dr. Pearson, I’m sorry to disturb you. There’s a Will Drake here to see you. Yes. All right.” She hung up. “Down the hall, third door on the right.”
“Thanks.” I followed the woman’s instructions to a door with the doctor’s name on it. Before I could knock, it opened. The doctor was older than me, probably in her 50’s, bony and short with gray hair.
I shook her hand. “Hello, doctor. Please call me Will.”
As I came in, the doctor closed the door. I saw my daughter standing with her arms folded, her lips pinched. “I told you not to come.”
“Honey, I just want to help you.”
“I don’t need help.” She looked at the doctor. “I’m leaving.”
“Kara, please have a seat on the lounge.” Dr. Pearson walked past me and took a seat in the big yellow chair across from the lounge. “Will, please sit as well. I assure you, Kara wants you here. This is a difficult time for her.” She motioned to the chair next to hers, the three of us forming a triangle. I sat down, looking from the doctor to Kara. Kara was still standing.
“Kara, please sit,” Dr. Pearson said. “This is what we’ve been talking about. He’s here. This is a safe place.”
Kara huffed but did as she was told, sitting down, avoiding eye contact.
“Excuse me, ‘a safe place’?” I echoed. “She’s perfectly safe at home, Doctor. I don’t know what she’s told you, but—“
“I meant emotionally safe, Will. I did not mean to suggest you’ve made an unsafe home for your daughter.”
I looked at Kara again. Her foot was tapping nervously as she rubbed her face and ran her hands though her hair.
“What’s going on, Kara?” I asked.
“Kara,” the doctor said, “maybe I could explain the general idea to your father, with your permission.”
“You’re gonna tell him?” Kara said, her voice rising.
“No, not all of it. I need him to understand the context of what he’s going to hear.”
Kara nodded nervously, biting her nails. “Okay.”
“Look,” I said, “Kara, whatever it is you have to tell me, you can. I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t talk to me.”
“God,” Kara said. She fell back on the lounge, grabbing the pillow and shoving it into her face.
“Will,” the doctor said, “during the time I’ve spent with your daughter, we’ve talked about her feelings. She’s a complicated individual, you understand?”
“Yes?” I said. I wanted to say get to the point.
“Before she tells you what’s on her escort kadıköy mind, it’s important you understand this isn’t your fault. Her feelings aren’t a reflection on anything you have done. What I mean to say is I don’t want you to blame yourself or even feel as if this is something you need to fix or have any control over.”
“Okay, so she’s not mad at me?”
“Well, she has some feelings she needs to work though. And that’s key here. I need you to understand that she wants to resolve these feelings. She wants to change them. She doesn’t want to feel this way. Do you understand?”
I looked at Kara, who still had her face hidden in the pillow. “You’re a lesbian, aren’t you?”
Her head shot up. “What?”
“It’s okay, sweetie. Really. I know a guy who has a lesbian daughter. It’s normal nowadays.”
Kara moaned pathetically and looked at the doctor.
“Will, Kara isn’t a lesbian. It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Oh. Hmm. Did you kill a man?”
“Jesus, Daddy, what?” Kara said.
“Will, all your questions will be answered,” Dr. Pearson said. “All you need to do is keep an open mind. And please remember the courage Kara is showing by sharing her feelings with you.”
“All right…” I said. I was more confused than ever. She wasn’t a lesbian or serial killer, but what else was there?
“Kara?” the doctor said.
“I can’t,” Kara said. “I told you I can’t.”
“We’ve talked about this. We agreed the only way to move past it is to tell him.”
“I don’t want to tell him. I can’t tell him.”
“Just, wait,” I said. “What’s the big deal? Just tell me. I’m not going to be angry. Hell, I brought my shovel incase we needed it. Whatever it is I can handle it.”
“Will, please. This is a delicate process. Your daughter is struggling. If I can ask you to stay quiet for a moment, I believe we can make some headway.”
I shook my head but I kept quiet. I hoped this wasn’t some kind of joke, because I wasn’t getting the punch line.
“Kara?” the doctor repeated.
“I can’t! You tell him. I’ll leave and you can tell him.”
“That wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“No, it’s fine. I give you permission to tell him everything. Just let me leave.”
“I’ll help him understand what he’s about to hear, but I need you to say the words. Just say it like we practiced. Close your eyes and say it.”
Kara was visibly squirming on the lounge. She had a death grip on the pillow, holding it to her chest. She buried her face in it. I could hear her panting. I waited for her to say something, anything. The doctor was silent. I was more confused than ever.
“Will, please,” the doctor interrupted.
Kara took a deep breath and then shouted into the pillow. “I’m in love with you and I want you to fuck me!” The air on her breath seemed to pass through the pillow and crash into me, making my whole body jerk. But she wasn’t done yet. “I fantasize about you all the time. I want my daddy to spank my ass and fuck my pussy. I rub my pussy and think about you every night, but I haven’t cum in three months. I’m angry because you don’t spank me anymore, because the only way I can cum is if I rub my pussy after you spank me. I know I’m sick because I want my daddy to spank me and fuck me. I know you’re disgusted and grossed out, but I can’t help it. Dr. Pearson says the only way for me to get better is to tell you how I feel so I can get over it. But I’m hoping if I tell you, you’ll take me home and fuck me. And if you do take me home and fuck me, I promise I’ll be good to you and take care of you and I’ll keep your cock as happy as I can. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
My daughter threw herself down on the lounge. She curled up into the fetal position. I was absolutely stunned.
“Oh,” I said.
“Ahem,” the doctor said, sitting forward in her chair. “Obviously this is a shock for you, Will. Before you say anything to Kara, I want you to understand this is common.”
“Common?” I said, staring at Kara’s back as she lay quivering on the lounge.
“Yes. Many girls have fetishes that involve a sexual attraction to a father figure. That’s exactly what this is, a fetish. No different than any other fetish. Some men may prefer a woman with large breasts, or small breasts, some like long legs, or have a foot fetish, some have a hair-color fetish. Do you understand?”
I nodded, but I didn’t understand.
“Good,” the doctor said. “What’s important to remember is that Kara recognizes her fetish is destructive to her relationship with you. However, I believe by admitting it to you and gaining your acceptance, she can begin to direct her sexual energies toward other goals.”
“How, uh, how should I feel about this, exactly, doctor.”
“I can’t tell you how to feel about it, Will. All I can tell you is that your daughter is at a critical stage. She’s feeling vulnerable right now, and rejection from you could cause permanent damage to her self-esteem.”
“So what the hell do you want me to do? I mean, I don’t even, I don’t—“
“Will, I don’t want bostancı escort you to say anything you may regret, or that Kara may misinterpret. Right now, she’s listening closely to everything you’re saying. You need to understand that while my motive for telling you is to help her move on, her motive is to sexually excite you.”
“Sexually excite me? Are you suggesting I would ever—“
“Again, Will, please choose your words carefully.”
“Just, just tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do, or whatever.”
“No one is telling you to do anything, Will.”
“Oh really? Because she just told me she wants to have sex with me!”
“Will, again, please—“
“No, I just don’t get it. Why did you tell her to bring me here, doctor? Do you expect me to fuck her? Is that your therapy solution?”
“Of course not, Will. I would never suggest anyone do something illegal. All I want you to do is soak in everything that Kara has told you. She needs you to know. That’s the start of her healing process.”
“Fine. What’s her prognosis, doctor? How does she get better?”
“It’s important to remember that getting better doesn’t mean changing who Kara is. Kara will always have a sexual fetish for a father figure. Where I want her to channel those energies is with a boyfriend, someone who’s willing to offer a role-playing relationship where she can experiment with her fetish. But long before we reach that stage, I want her to be able to achieve orgasms on her own.”
“Geez,” I said, rubbing my face. I looked up at Kara. She was still hiding. “Kara, what you said about getting spanked, is that true? Were you getting yourself off after I spanked you?”
She didn’t move.
“Answer me,” I said sternly.
She nodded without looking at me.
“Unbelievable. I can’t believe I was doing that to you.”
“Will,” the doctor said, “I don’t want you to blame yourself. At some point, what you considered punishment, Kara considered sexual stimulation. It became habit for her to masturbate after a punishment. That’s how she taught herself to reach orgasm.”
“Doctor, please, I don’t even want to think about my daughter reaching orgasm,” I said.
“I realize this is an awkward conversation for you, but consider how hard this is on Kara. She has been unable to reach orgasm for three months. For an 18 year old girl who is used to masturbating on a daily basis, that’s a long time.”
“A daily basis? Yeah, it was a daily basis because she was out late every night! Coming home drunk! Smoking weed in her room! Stealing money out of my wallet! Was it all just so I’d spank your ass?”
“Will, please, your tone.”
“Answer me!” I shouted at Kara.
She jerked, but she nodded.
“Don’t nod! Speak!” I barked.
“Yes,” she squeaked.
“Will, please,” the doctor said. “Can you ask Kara questions calmly and allow her to answer them?”
I was staring at my daughter’s back.
“Kara,” the doctor said. “it might be helpful if you could sit up and answer your father’s questions. Could you do that?”
Kara sat up, but she was turned all the way around on the lounge, her back to me, holding the pillow in her lap.
“Kara?” the doctor said.
“I can’t look at him,” she whispered.
“That’s all right,” the doctor said. “Will, why don’t you ask Kara a few questions, calmly.”
“I want to know when the hell this fetish started.”
“Calmly, Will,” the doctor said.
“Kara, just tell me what I did wrong to make you feel like this.”
“Will, please don’t refer to it as wrong.”
“I don’t really remember how it started,” Kara whispered. “But one time, you came home from work and took a shower. I had left my hair scrunchie in there. I just wanted to grab it. The shower curtain was only half closed. I thought you caught me, but you were washing your face. I saw your cock. It was long and hard, big and beautiful. You stroked it once while you were rinsing your face. I ran away. I don’t even know if it was real anymore because I’ve dreamt about it for so long. Maybe I just imagined it, but I think about it whenever I touch myself.”
“Shit,” I said.
“Will, try to understand her fetish. Do not judge her. Just ask her a question she can answer.”
I sighed. “Why do you like being spanked?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. When I was little, I used to hate it. But I remember one time I did something wrong, I can’t remember what, but I didn’t want to be spanked, so I ran away from you. You chased me and wrestled me to the floor. You lifted up my skirt, like you always used to do, and then your hand flew and hit my pussy. It was a huge shock at the time, and then you kept spanking my butt, just so many times, one after the other really quickly. Even though I was screaming, it made me cum. I don’t know why I came, but I did. That’s when I started to like getting spanked. The pain on my bottom mixed with the sensitivity in my pussy and just pushed me over the edge. I liked disobeying you after that, because I knew the worse I was, the harder I’d cum that night.”
“Fuck.” I remembered the time I accidently spanked her pussy. My hand was out of control. I’d been furious. Still, I had enough sense to know my hand had slapped between her legs. I’d felt embarrassed, so embarrassed I spanked her ass a dozen times just to cover my mistake.
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