Daddys little kitten
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Daddy's Little WhoreChapter 12 free porn video
I woke up early, before the sun was up, and my head hurt. My body hurt too, my ass was still sore and my mouth tasted like dirty cotton. Deke was next to me, and we'd had sex for a long time after going to bed. My pussy was sore too. And all I could think of was that I wanted to be home. In my own bed. I wasn't supposed to be here, doing this. Sleeping with Deke, fucking his friends. I'd thought I could do it, just a few hours before, running away. I'd really thought I could do it.
I was all messed up. That cocaine stuff made my nose itch now, it felt dried out and dusty and I washed my face. I washed my mouth out and pushed wet fingers up my nostrils. I took a shower too, running the hot water over me, feeling around my pussy. Not masturbating or anything like that, just feeling myself, like maybe something was broke. I felt loose and hot down there, like I had a fever, and even the steaming water felt cool on my body. On that part of me anyway. I washed my ass too, pushing a soapy finger inside and feeling it tender and puffy in there. Like my soft rectum was pulled almost inside out.
I didn't like it. I didn't like any of it and I was homesick. Less than a day after leaving my dad because he didn't love me enough, I was lonely.
I picked up the phone in the kitchen, thinking I was gonna call my dad. I was going to ask him to come get me, to take me home. I'd tell him I was sorry and I'd never do it again. None of it. But I knew I was lying and I put the phone down, sitting there with the sun coming up through the big windows behind me.
I should have been getting up right then, going downstairs, getting breakfast ready for my dad. I would have been dressing for school, frowning at my hair as I tried to pin it back, the way the sisters at Lourdes liked it. I should have been yelling for my dad, telling him it was getting late, he had to move his butt.
He'd laugh at that, smiling and stretching and I'd give him a hug, a kiss on the cheek as he sat down. He'd read his newspaper and I'd do my math, because I always saved it for last. And he'd ask me what I was gonna do that day. I'd shrug and say maybe I'd stop by the mall with Jen and her mom, buy him some new socks. And he'd just nod and maybe slip me twenty bucks, like it was a secret, even though it was just us in that big old house.
That's what I should have been doing. But I was staring at the phone and playing with the handy cam that Michael had left by the fridge. I was remembering how funny it had been to be filmed and I turned it on, running the video backwards far enough to see all I needed to. Deke fucking me in the ass, grinning at the camera. Debbie pissing in my mouth. I licked my lips, feeling kind of weird because that didn't really gross me out, it sort of...
"What are ya doin?" Debbie's voice startled me.
"Nothing." I turned my head and blushed for a second, smiling and popping the little disk out of the camera, slipping it into my purse.
I was probably a little sick for doing it, but part of me knew I'd want to remember at least some of that in the future. I'd probably want to watch it and besides, I thought, I didn't want it ending up on the internet or something, did I? I had serious doubts about what Deke's buddies might do if they found it a porn video of me laying around.
"I feel bad," Debbie said, and she looked like it. I probably didn't look much better though, even after my shower.
"Yeah," I nodded.
"Are you thinkin' about your dad?" She sat down next to me, on a stool at the breakfast counter, folding her arms under head and sort of lying down that way.
"Uh-huh," I shrugged. "I want to call him, but I don't know what to say."
"Yeah." Debbie closed her eyes. She was just wearing panties, little white ones and nothing else. I wore a bathrobe.
"You want to eat?" I asked her, but Deb just shook her head. I wasn't hungry either.
"Michael wants me to have sex with some guys tonight," Debbie sighed. "Like for money or something."
"Hmmm..." I combed my fingers through my wet hair, tilting my head and trying to dry it faster.
"You think I should?" Debbie was looking at me.
"I don't know." I tilted my head the other way so I had an excuse not to look at her.
"Would you do it?"
"Me?" I licked my lips. "I don't know. Maybe. Do you need money?"
She laughed softly. "No." Debbie shook her head slightly. "But he said if I loved him I'd do it."
"So?" I forced myself to look at her. "Do you love him?"
"I think so." She frowned, thinking about it for a second. "I guess."
"Maybe you should go home," I said quietly.
"I'm scared to see my dad." Debbie bit her lip.
"I know."
"Just stop here ... Yeah, right here, it's okay." I left the driver with a good tip, like seventeen dollars or something because I didn't want to wait for my change. I'd been tapping my foot nervously the whole ride, looking out the window and wondering what I was doing.
Nothing had changed. I hadn't changed, my Daddy wouldn't have changed. Not the way I wanted him to, so what was the point? He was my dad, I missed him. I didn't need a point, I told myself. That was enough. I'd been gone one night, moved out gone, and I couldn't stay away for another, not like that. It was only going to get worse if I stayed with Deke. I'd drink and do drugs and fuck and get passed around from man to man, and no one would ever love me. No one would take care of me. I'd get old doing that, too old too fast, and it was a dead end. I was only fifteen, but I could see that.
No happy endings there.
Debbie would find that out, I thought. Because she really was just a kid and couldn't see past today. I hadn't been a kid in a long time, if I'd ever been. My dad had been right about that, about how I'd had to grow up fast. How it was hard on both of us. But he was wrong thinking I could slow down and just be a little girl, it was too late for that, even if I wanted to. Debbie would be a whore and that made me sad, but she had her reasons. She'd have new daddies to love her, men who wouldn't hurt her the way her own dad did, and she'd find some solace in that, I thought. In that way she was just like me, but I could have been wrong. I didn't know anything.
The gates were closed and the morning paper was still wedged in the curling wrought iron, my dad hadn't gone to work. I didn't think he would. He'd be waiting by the phone in case I called, or one of my friends called, or ... No, he wouldn't even want to think about the other things, the other phone calls a daddy could get when his little girl was missing. I punched the code and grabbed the paper, not bothering to close the gates behind me and I walked slowly towards the house.
"Hi," I said, standing in the doorway and he almost dropped his coffee cup.
"Sam!" He stared at me for a second and then he was hugging me, smothering me in his arms and holding me as tight as I'd ever been held in my life. "Jesus. Thank you, thank you. Oh God." He was breathing the words, like a little prayer, kissing my hair, my cheek. And I hugged him back, crying because I'd missed him so much.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," I said. "I'm sorry." Because there was nothing else I could say.
"I'm sorry too, Sam. I'm so sorry. I called everybody. I called Jenny, your friends, nobody knew where you were," he told me quickly. "I was so worried. Don't do that to me again."
"I won't," I promised, wiping my face on the sleeve of his bathrobe.
"I'm just glad you're back." He kissed me more and finally let me go, a little. But he held onto my hand, like he was afraid to let go of me completely.
"I just had to think," I told him, squeezing his warm soft hand in mine.
"Are you okay?" He suddenly looked at me like I might be hurt, pulling me to him again, turning me around, looking me over like I might have been dying or something. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine, Daddy." I smiled at him. "Really, I'm okay. It was just one night."
"I know," he nodded. "Yeah, I know you're okay." He looked like he'd aged ten years since I'd seen him the day before. Daddy's eyes were dark, with bags under them, and his hair looked a little more grey, the lines around his mouth drawn and deeper than I remembered.
"You didn't sleep," I said, not asking him. "Come on, you don't need coffee, you need to lie down." I was back, all of me, and my tears were drying. My dad needed me, now more than ever and I felt so bad for what I'd done. I'd hurt him, just like I'd wanted to. I'd made him sorry and I hated myself for it.
"I'm okay," he resisted, but not very much. He was exhausted, I could tell. He'd been going on hope and fear, and now it was all adrenaline, but that would wear off and Daddy needed to rest now. I was glad I'd come back when I did, another day or two and he'd have been a real mess.
"I know. Me too." I smiled at him, leading him by the hand like a little boy.
I put him in bed, pushing him down with my hands, into his bed. "I'm not going anywhere, Daddy. Never again, I promise. I'll never leave you again."
I got on the bed with him, knowing I was tired too. I curled up with him, not undressing, nothing like that. Daddy put his arm around me and I turned on my side, my face against his chest, in the warm spot beneath his underarm. I put a hand on his chest, on his bathrobe, feeling the soft rough cotton under my hands.
"I love you, Daddy," I whispered and he didn't say anything, he just accepted it, rubbing my back slowly, softly, until we fell asleep a short time later.
I woke up and the bed was empty, but I smelled food and I was hungry. I stretched, blinking at the sun coming through the bay windows, wondering if I was dreaming because my dad couldn't cook. It was two in the afternoon, a little after, and I went to my room, changing my clothes. I put on clean panties and a pair of soft cotton shorts, like gym shorts sorta, that said Property of Alcatraz, and a fleece pullover, a soft warm thing that was too big for me, but it was supposed to be like that. It had a zipper in the front and I didn't wear anything underneath it. I just zipped it halfway between my loose breasts. That was how I always wore it.
I went to the bathroom and peed, which felt really good and I promised myself a bath later, a real bath too, not a shower. But only after I figured out where that smell was coming from.
My dad was in the kitchen, drinking coffee, which he didn't need at two-thirty in the afternoon, decaf or not. And the smell was coming from Jen's mom, who was cooking in our kitchen and I sort of smiled at her because I had no idea why she'd be doing that. She was making some kind of an oriental chicken thing, like lemon chicken I thought, in my electric wok. And that's how I thought of things in my kitchen, as mine.
Do you want to know what would be a happy ending? Because it occurred to me that afternoon, maybe not right that second, but as I got some tomato juice out of the refrigerator and sat down with my dad, smelling those good smells and talking with Barbara. I thought, what if Jen's dad had run off with his secretary, and Barb and my dad had gotten together, you know, just as friends at first, but then later as something more. And then they got serious and married and Jen really was my sister and Barb was my mom ... What a great dream that was. What a happy ending that would be.
Except for the little bit of jealousy I felt just seeing her there, in my kitchen, cooking for my dad. Talking to him and smiling. Oh sure, I was included, yeah, but it was still Barb that my dad was looking at, you know, the way a man will when an attractive woman is around. When she's smiling. He didn't look at me like that. Maybe I wouldn't have liked my happy ending all that much.
But I was nice. I had to be just for my Daddy, just because I was home and I always would be. Jen's mom would leave soon enough, I thought. She wasn't a threat. Not a real one because she couldn't stay.
" ... so I thought maybe you'd like to relax a little." Barb was smiling at me, telling me how my dad had called her, just to let her know I'd come home and she'd offered to come by and fix a little something for us. Because that's what friends do. "We were so worried about you. I had Jen call everybody she knew."
"I was okay," I shrugged.
"Were you with Debbie?" Barb asked me and I blinked at the woman. "Her mom called yesterday too, they haven't seen her since Friday. They're pretty worried."
I could have lied, but Jen's mom would have known, I thought. She was watching me and she already knew I'd seen Debbie, maybe I even knew where she was right then.
"Heather was with her, but..." Barbara shrugged.
"What about Heather?" I looked up quickly.
"She's home. I don't know everything, but I think the police found her."
"The police?" I swallowed hard and glanced at my dad. "Is she okay?"
"I think so," she told me. "But nobody's heard from Debbie, Sam. If you know where she is..."
"Maybe," I said with a frown. "I might know, um..."
"You should call her; tell her to call her parents," Barb said, and she was smart. She figured I wasn't going to tell anybody where Debbie was, or where I'd been, it didn't work like that.
The last thing I would ever do was send Debbie's parents to Deke's house, or even tell them where it was. They might call the cops or something. Plus I sure didn't want my dad knowing where I'd been. I'd tell him straight out that I'd never tell him, if that's what it came to. I wasn't going to hurt him like that; I'd rather pick the lesser evil. The thing with Heather confused me though and I had no idea what any of that meant. What had she told the police? Had she been arrested or what? God! This was really starting to suck bad and I never should have listened to Deke. He probably deserved to get busted. We all did, but I was feeling a lot of self-preservation too and I buried my guilt beneath a lot of anger.
"Call her." My dad patted my hand. "She needs to go home." He was being careful too, my dad. He wasn't going to let me run away again, even if it meant some other little girl was lost in the world. We were both selfish.
I just wish I could have told him about Debbie, about what she was hiding from at home. But I couldn't, obviously. I couldn't even tell Barb, although I wondered what her advice would have been. If she'd still want me to send Debbie back to a father who was going to beat her and then jerk off afterwards? Or maybe he'd actually fuck her this time, but I doubted it. The guy sounded like a coward.
"I'll call her," I agreed, getting up and going up to my room to do it.
I'd wanted to take her with me that morning. I could have dropped her off on the way to my house. But Debbie hadn't wanted to go, not yet, and it was up to her. Not me. I called Deke's celphone, because I didn't know any other phone number.
"Hello?" Some girl answered after about five rings.
"Who's this?" I asked, narrowing my eyes because I didn't recognize the voice at all.
"Tanya. Who's this?" She sounded a little offended that I'd asked.
"Where's Deke?" I said, thinking the rudest thing I could do was to ignore her question.
She started saying something, but didn't get very far as Deke took the phone away from her.
"Sammie?" he asked. "Where are you, baby? I was worried about you."
" ... who the fuck is Sammie?" I could hear the woman saying and Deke was shushing her, the phone getting muffled as he covered it with his hand or something. " ... another white bitch?" blah blah blah ... I shook my head. I knew Deke had other girls, but I'd never asked about them.
"Is Debbie there?" I asked Deke. "I gotta talk to her."
"She's, uh ... She's with Michael, Sam. Where are you at?"
"It doesn't matter," I shrugged uselessly. "Look, she's gotta call her folks, okay? I mean it, they're freakin' out at her place."
"You home?" Deke asked.
"Forget about where I am, okay? Did you hear what I said, Deke?"
"Yeah, girl, I heard you. Look, she's workin' tonight. We got it all set up, okay? She don't need no bullshit right now," Deke told me, sounding pretty serious.
"I'm just tellin' you..."
"And you're workin' tomorrow, don't you go forgettin' that shit neither, baby girl." Deke was laying down the law, but he was a long ways away. Still, I didn't need an argument.
"Yeah, I know," I told him, just to shut him up. "Just let her call home, Deke. Please? Call Michael and give her a chance."
"A chance?" Deke laughed. "She got her chance. She's all fucked up, baby. She ain't like you, 'kay? Don't even think about that bitch no more."
"What do you mean?" I asked him.
"Don't you worry about it, you just be clear about tomorrow. You need a ride?" Deke was shushing his girl again.
"Where's it at? I'll meet you," I told him.
"Holiday Inn, downtown." Deke was smiling, I could tell. "Room 1122, got that? You got a date at four, so be early. I got your shit."
"Yeah," I sighed. "Where's Debbie?"
"I told you, she's with Michael. Be cool now, you know I love you, baby."
"Yeah." I made a face he couldn't see. "Bye Deke."
I hung up the phone and just lay on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. Wherever Debbie was, she wasn't gonna be calling home, I thought. And I didn't know what Deke meant by her being all fucked up and not like me. But it was hard to understand Deke sometimes, and his friends, because sometimes it was like they were talking in code.
The nigger talk was pretty easy; it was like kid talk, but the half-n-half, like part English, part ghetto ... That could be rough to conjure, as they liked to say. And 'all fucked up' could mean like ten different things, ranging from pretty good to pretty bad, and Deke had meant something in the middle, but more on the bad side, than the good, I thought.
But I couldn't do anything about that.
"I couldn't get a hold of her," I said, frowning as I entered the kitchen. "Maybe she went home already," I suggested, but that was a total lie.
"I'll call her folks," Barb said. "You saw her this morning right? She was okay?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Debbie was okay. She just said she was scared to go home. I think her dad's kinda ... strict." I was getting some plates out of the cupboard because Barb had finished cooking and it smelled really good.
"Okay, well, I'll tell them that much anyway." Barb gave me a little smile and then grabbed her purse, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "I better get home; I need to get started on my own supper."
"Thanks for coming over, Barbara," my dad said, standing up.
"Oh, no problem." She smiled at my dad and then squeezed my shoulder. "I'm just glad Samantha's back home."
"Thanks, Barb." I smiled at her, feeling bad for my earlier feelings. But she was leaving now, so I could afford to be gracious.
"Your welcome. Sam. If you want to talk just call me, okay? Or, hey ... I can send Jen over if you want some company. I know she'd love to see you. She'll be getting home from school pretty soon."
"I'll call her later," I promised, just wanting to be alone with my dad mostly.
"Okay." Barb gave us one more smile; she was good at that, and finally left.
"Smells good, huh?" My dad smiled at me as I set the table. We'd just eat in the kitchen, sort of a late lunch, very early dinner. And it did smell good, really good.
I won't lie and say I didn't think about trying again to seduce my dad. That was always on my mind, but I was careful not to show it. All of my looks were innocent; everything I said was straightforward, with no hidden meanings or double entendres. I was the good girl again, the loving daughter as we ate slowly, talking about safe things, ultra-safe things, like the weather, for instance, which was almost unreasonable for us.
We were avoiding anything that had to do with our relationship, even as a father and daughter and I might have expected differently from my dad. Maybe a stroll down memory lane, because usually that's what he did after an argument, when we were making up with each other. He'd talk about when I was a baby, or a little girl, making me laugh with silly stories about the silly things I'd done growing up.
But not this time. I'd almost seduced him, had him right on the edge and seeing me as a woman, just for a moment and he'd wanted me. So this argument had been different, and our healing was different too. It would take longer and I was just beginning to appreciate how much trust I'd lost with him when the phone rang.
It was Debbie's dad and he wanted to talk to me, apparently getting my number from Barb when she'd called to tell them that at least his daughter had been seen recently. My dad held out the phone and I swallowed nervously, not knowing what I should say, but realizing that it wouldn't be much.
"Hello?" I said, sort of turning away from my dad, who'd gone back to the table.
"Where's Debbie?" he asked, the man on the phone. No hello, no chit-chat, just right to it.
"I don't know," I said. "I saw her this morning, but I don't know where she..."
"Yes you do. Tell me." He sounded angry, not worried, just pissed.
"No." I cleared my throat. "I don't. I tried to call her but..."
"Listen, you want to tell it to the cops? She's just fifteen, she needs to be home. I know who you are, I'll get the cops."
"She's okay, I swear," I said, not knowing what I was supposed to say. I didn't want to talk to the police though, that was for sure.
"Just tell me where she is."
"I don't know, alright? I saw her at the Seven-Eleven, the one down by the mall. She was fine, she said she..."
"Then who did you call?" he demanded. "When you were looking for her, who was that?"
"A friend of mine." I glanced over my shoulder and my dad was watching me. "My boyfriend, we were together when we saw her, he doesn't know any..."
"What's his name? What's his number?" the man asked and waited, but I didn't say anything. "Tell me or I'm coming with the police. You know something and..."
Something just went snap inside me.
"I know you beat her," I said into the phone. "I know you do it when her mom's gone and then you jerk off, you shit," I hissed quickly. "You want the police? I know a lot of stuff about you, you sick fuck."
I wanted to kill him, like everything was red and I hated him and his bullshit concern. Somebody had taken his toy away, that's all, and now he couldn't get off like he wanted to.
"Now hold on, who the hell told you that? Huh? Who told you those..."
"Lies?" I laughed at him. "You're so fucked if you call the cops. I'll tell them everything. I'll tell them you did it to me, you perv. They'll lock you up forever..."
"Sam..." My dad was there and I stared at him for a moment. I was crying and I didn't even know it. My knuckles were white around the phone and he had to pry it from my fingers. "Shhh ... It's okay." My dad didn't even say goodbye to the man, he just hung up the phone, and put his arms around me.
"Her dad hurts her," I said, hugging him. I didn't say anything else; I guess I didn't have to. God, I was getting so sick of crying.
"You don't know anything about me, Daddy," I sighed sadly.
My dad didn't say anything, he just held me because that was what I needed more than anything else. I was in my bed, because that's where you put a sick girl, right? You put her to bed. I was tired of being sick too. I was dying, a little at a time and he couldn't save me. Not without doing something he could never do. I knew that. I could feel it, inside me, like a snake coiled around my heart, squeezing me, suffocating me. You think I'm lying, exaggerating now, making it up. But I'm not.
Have you ever wanted something so badly that you'd sell your soul for it? Sat alone in the dark and whispered aloud, "Satan, if you're really there, I'll give you anything if you'll do this one thing for me..." If you've never done that, then you can't know what I was feeling. And maybe I'd sold my soul already, it felt like it sometimes. When I'd woken up with Deke that morning. When I'd talked to Debbie. I could have saved her, I thought. I could have said the words she needed, the words she wanted to hear. But I'd let her go. Not my problem, right?
I was dying.
I slept, because it was my only escape. I slept until ... I woke up. And it was dark and I was alone. I took my bath, the one I'd promised myself. It was almost midnight then, the witching hour. I sat in our great porcelain tub, a big one, large enough for me and two more of me besides. I loved that bathtub and I soaked in the water, scalding hot, so hot that I couldn't move once I was in it. My skin turned pink and then wrinkled and there was no sound, but the strange echo of my slow heart beating beneath the water. I closed my eyes, thinking of nothing, everything, how I ended up here, in that place at that time.
Where had I gone so badly wrong? Was there a specific place, an event that set me on this path instead of another? Did I choose it, or was it always meant to be. I wanted to believe in fate, in destiny, like I'd had no choice in the matter. It removed some of the guilt I was feeling. It wasn't my fault, it was God, or the universe, or just ... fate.
But I'd picked, I knew. I'd made decisions and chosen what I was doing. I'd betrayed my dad, my friends, even my mom, probably. I was looking at the medicine cabinet, thinking I should find one of my dad's razor blades. I should just go to sleep in that bath. My dad would be happier maybe. Oh, I knew he'd be sad for awhile, but in the end, wouldn't it be better? Better for him, better for me. I could close my eyes finally without crying in my sleep.
I was naked, still warm from my bath, but dry now, except for my hair. I'd washed myself carefully, like a baptism, washing away the bad thoughts, purifying myself for this moment. My dad was there, in his bed, sleeping softly and I could hear his breathing, slow and steady. I moved to him, my bare feet silent on the carpet, and I slipped into his bed, lifting the covers and moving close. He was on his side, with his back to me, and I pressed myself to him, my arm going over his, over his chest, stroking him gently.
"Sam," he said softly, stirring beside me, moving to face me in the dark. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I whispered back, my voice light, happy almost. I kept my hand on him, moving my legs as he rolled over, facing me now. I put my right leg over his, sliding my foot along his calf. "I just want to sleep with you."
"Mmmm..." he sighed, not realizing I was naked yet, not completely awake. "What time is it?"
"It's late. Almost one." I rubbed his side slowly, feeling my dad's warm breath on my face, we were so close. I kissed him, softly on the mouth and when he didn't move, I did it again, harder this time, my tongue touching him as I parted my lips.
"Sam?" He woke up then, for real and he was looking at me, trying to see me and understand.
"I'm here, Daddy." I pushed myself closer, pulling at him.
"Don't do this, honey..." he sighed, " ... Please."
"I know," I nodded. "It's okay, Daddy."
"No, it's not okay." His voice was gentle, like he wasn't refusing me at all, just discussing it. "I love you too much to hurt you, Sam."
"You can't hurt me," I giggled softly. "I love you too much."
"I loved your mother," he said. "She's the only woman I've ever loved, Sam. She gave me you."
"I know," I smiled. "I understand, Daddy. But she's inside me, she's a part of me, don't you see?"
"I do see, Princess, believe me. I see her every time I look at you, but..."
"Then love me, Daddy. It's alright."
" ... not the same way. You're her child, our little girl."
"I'm not little..."
"Shhh ... You'll always be little to me. Always my baby, you have to understand that, Sam. I can't look at you without seeing the person you were, the little girl I've loved for so long. I held you in my hands and you were so small, Sam. So small. And you opened your eyes and I'll never forget that moment."
We were discussing it, finally, the way we felt. Maybe even more than sex, this was what I wanted most. The chance to tell Daddy how I felt, and why I felt the way I did. I'd make him understand now.
"But I love you," I told him. "I'm not that baby anymore. Touch me..." I took his hand, putting it on my bare breast, squeezing his big hand beneath mine, forcing him to caress me, " ... I'm a woman now, not a baby, and I still need you, Daddy. I need you so badly."
"Samantha..." He licked his lips and tried to move his hand, but I was holding him to me, both of my hands over his one. Pressing him not just to my breast, but to my heart.
"You need me too, Daddy," I whispered. "I know you do. It's okay, I promise. It's okay to need me ... to want me..." And I was kissing him again and this time he didn't pull away, not for a long moment, an eternal second, and I felt his lips parting for my tongue, and his hand pressed against my breast, my nipple burning hard against his palm.
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