Page 1 of Daddy’s Girl

Danielle

M y life has never been exactly what you’d call normal.

From as far back as I can remember, I’ve been terrified of men and leery of women thanks to my mother and fathers.

Yes, fathers, plural although none of them were ever married to my mother and I know none of them were actually biologically related to me.

Heaven only knows who I really am but that doesn’t matter as much any longer, not when I’ve finally met the only man who I’ve ever been comfortable with—my daddy.

I met him the first time the night my mother died, at that hands of my latest father.

She was a drug addict, and he was furious she’d used his booze money on drugs.

I watched him strangle the life out of my mother, right there in front of me.

Well, I guess she died from being strangled and not that creep bashing her skull against the dashboard of the car and window.

I was only eight at the time, in the backseat of the car out in this abandoned part of town, and when I let out a sound of fright, it seemed he remembered I was there and came after me.

I fought back when his hands started wrapping around my throat, knowing what was going to happen, but I was smaller than my mother was and in the back seat that had more room. I was bleeding from his hands scratching at me, screaming, when suddenly, someone pulled him off me and I was free.

That was the first time I saw my daddy. He looked scary, his face dark and huge in size. He was even bigger than my latest father. He wore a uniform, a gun on his hip and I didn’t know whether I could trust him or not.

Then he smashed my father’s head into the doorframe, and he stopped fighting back, crumpling instantly, but the weight didn’t bother my daddy.

He just slid him back into the front seat and left him there, moving back to me.

I tensed the second his hands reached for me.

He didn’t stop though and the next thing I knew, I was in his strong arms being carried towards a different vehicle and it just felt right.

He settled me into the seat then took out a handkerchief and dabbed up the blood from my face and neck, his hands gentle and soft despite their size.

He just kept telling me it’d be okay until I stopped shaking, stopped trembling, and I clung to him for the longest time.

He eventually set me back from him, kissed my forehead and shut the door with me inside the vehicle while he moved to the back of the truck.

I watched as he carried two huge gas cans over to the car and doused everything, especially the back seat, with gasoline, pouring some on my mother as well.

My father was still unconscious, and Daddy found the gun from the glovebox.

My eyes widened entirely when I watched him slide the thing into his mouth, wrapping his hand around the handle and pulled the trigger.

The sound echoed in my head and then I saw the flames licking everything almost instantly as Daddy walked back towards me.

We sat there for a few minutes as the car began to completely ignite and Daddy finally turned on the truck, driving away.

At the time I thought it was totally normal.

It wasn’t that crazy from what my life was really like, but I asked him about it when I was twelve and he told me he was tired of being a good cop and doing nothing.

Tired of the jerks like my father getting away with murder or being put into a jail with cable TV and free food for the rest of their lives.

He’d just quit his job and the gun he had needed to be turned in still, but he planned to do that later after he took a last drive through the area where so many lowlifes always were waiting for drug dealers to come with their fixes.

He told me that he’d do it all again, including keeping me, if given the choice and I fell even more for him.

We moved towns after that incident, everyone assuming I’d died in the car but since the back seat was doused so much and the gas tank was just behind it, that they just couldn’t find any remains.

I didn’t care, after all, I was able to kill off that girl thanks to Daddy.

He took me home with him that night, introducing me to his wife and told her what happened.

They instantly started packing up the house.

Her family was from another state and apparently, they had left them a house as the only remaining relative.

So, we moved, and I was no longer that girl but theirs, their Danielle and Daddy made sure that everything was good for me.

I slept with Daddy for most of the next two years, scared of nightmares, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He would wrap me up next to him and soothe me to sleep.

I finally started sleeping in my own bed once I felt safe and I stayed in my own bed until I was sixteen.

By then Mom, as I had to call her although I never really felt that she wanted to be my mother, had died.

It was deemed accidental, that the garage door had malfunctioned, but I always found it strange, I mean, what was she doing in the garage lying on the ground that day?

To me, and I’m pretty sure even Daddy, it seemed more like suicide than an accident.

I knew Daddy hadn’t done it because we’d left for a daddy-daughter date an hour before that and the garage door worked just fine.

Daddy wouldn’t have risked me getting hurt when I took my bike out for a ride, he’s always been protective of me, so why would he begin to chance the thing malfunctioning while I was with him or in there alone?

That happened when I was fourteen and in the two years between then and the next time I slept with Daddy, we got used to living alone.

I took over cooking and cleaning and he was always complimentary of what I did, telling me I was such a good girl that I never wanted to disappoint him.

Then I grew up a bit more and boys started noticing me, leading me to my next terrifying encounter with a male that sent me to Daddy’s bed.

I was walking home from school in the middle of September when this senior guy that had been trying to chat me up grabbed me, dragging me off the sidewalk and back into a cluster of trees.

He shoved his hand down the back of my skirt and grabbed my ass underneath my panties.

I screamed fighting against his hold and felt him laugh as my panties were shoved down.

I felt his cock rub against my ass and I swore he was just seconds away from raping me.

I was bawling when he was pulled off me, a strong arm wrapping around me to keep me from collapsing and I finally felt safe.

Daddy lifted me and noticed my panties were down around my ankles and I swore he was about to kill the jerk for hurting me.

A neighbor’s husband grabbed the jerk, and the cops showed up just seconds later, taking one look at the scene, Daddy’s furious face, and took him away.

It turns out it wasn’t his first attempt at doing something like that. He’d broke into three houses and raped women before that day. Most of them looked like me, or me them, and I was terrified to sleep again.

That first night I woke from a nightmare, screaming, and Daddy came in, picking me up and carrying me to bed with him.

For the next six months, I slept with him without a single nightmare, so I thought I could handle going back to my room, but the nightmares quickly crept up on me and Daddy insisted that I stay with him.

He talked to me about what happened then, asking if I’d let any of the boys before him touch me or if I’d touched them without him knowing and I told him the truth that they hadn’t—I hadn’t.

He seemed relieved by it and promised that not all men just wanted to hurt women, there were plenty that would take care of them in every way and I knew he was one of them.

School was awful for the next year after the incident, the guys were calling me daddy’s little pussy, acting like I had asked for it, and when Daddy heard one of them when he came to pick me up for a doctor’s appointment, he was pissed.

He got into this huge fight with the principal for allowing it to continue when he’d first learnt about it, and the next thing I knew, I was pulled from the school.

I didn’t mind that part at all, after all, I got to stay home with Daddy then as he worked from home most days.

He hired me a tutor and I finished my high school requirements quickly just after January of what would have been my junior year, letting me just putter about as I wanted.

I started making more elaborate meals for us since I had the time, taking care of everything beyond mowing the lawn and anything mechanical.

Daddy wouldn’t let me near tools or handle anything that seemed manly.

Everything was good, great until the night of my eighteenth birthday and that’s when it all changed and I became Daddy’s in every way.