Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so we
can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.
Daddy's (Blow) Job Jar
So far, no one has been able to tell me why I was the only one
that cared. They tested us all and they still say they don't know what it
was that made me feel the protectiveness for my over my fear.
They do have a lot of excuses for Sharon and Karen.
I guess maybe I can understand the loneliness Sharon felt, being
the first. Maybe it was the timing. I was almost three years than
Melissa while Sharon and Karen and I were all between a year and two
apart. That meant Sharon was not yet fifteen when he started on Karen
and only sixteen when my name went into the jar.
I'm not looking to blame them- at least not now. I want to
know why it was me that felt she had to do something when Melissa
had her first period. It was all too tragically familiar. They made a big
family service about it. We all gathered around 'the jar' and Daddy
made his little speech about Melissa being a woman now and able to
help out with the 'chores'.
Then Melissa herself had to come up and take the strips of
paper with her name typed on them and put them in the jar. It was a rite
of passage, but a sinister one to be sure. I know we all, Sharon, Karen
and me, watched in horror as Melissa solemly added her name to ours
in the job jar. I wonder if they were looking at little Emily and seeing
into the future when it would be her turn.
I know what Melissa was feeling. In a strange sense, it is tingly
exciting to be the focus of that bizarre gathering. I knew that my
older sisters didn't like doing their chores, but they would never discuss
it with me. There was the wary excitement of crossing a line into
unknown territory and sense of adventure in finding out what my sisters
wouldn't tell me. It made me feel like a grown-up to put the little slips
of paper with my name on them into that jar. I was one of the big now.
Watching Melissa have those feelings was antithesis. I knew
Daddy had held out one slip with Melissa's name on it. Tonight she was
going to find out what being a 'big girl' meant in our family.
I looked at the grinning with real hate. I think my
anger burned away the fear and shame as I looked at the two of them.
The hunter and his prey- my little sister. He would show her the slip
with her name and she would be a little afraid, but very excited that she
would 'help' Daddy tonight.
At least he no longer made us watch. He stopped that after the
emotional scene with Sharon and Karen. But we knew what was going
to happen in his bedroom.
That was part of the ritual. It would be the only time we would
be invited into his bed. Forever after, he would wake us in our own
beds to make us do our chores. He would lie down on the bed and
invite Melissa to crawl in beside him. Then he would tell her how big
girls got to help Daddy relax and show her his hard-on. He would urge
her to touch it, then kiss it and he would then grab her head and force it
in her mouth.
Any resistance was met with a spanking as brutal as necessary
to make her comply. Perhaps Sharon lost her nerve when she was
forced to watch this sacrifice of her sister. I know she tried to stop him,
offering to be Daddy's only helper as he beat Karen. I know he beat
them both and then stopped making the others watch.
We were left to comfort our new 'big girl' after he had climaxed
in her mouth and told her it would get easier and more fun when she
learned how to help Daddy 'relax' better.
Karen must have been having the worst time with that. The only
comfort we had to offer was that there were three of us now, and that
it wouldn't last forever. But, as Sharon had fled on the eve of her 18th
birthday, Karen was now only three months away from her
emancipation. That must have tugged at her as she knew she was soon
to leave us two to Daddy's devices and that Melissa was just starting
five years of answering the call of the job jar.
I was much too angry to notice. Melissa was still coughing,
trying to rid herself of the salty, musky taste of her father's semen and
I was fuming that we were used as a stable of brood mares for that
stud. could burn in hell. I had long since given up on her as a
human being. Whatever her trials, I hoped they ate a in her heart.
But the monster was still harming us. I didn't know what I could do,
but I knew I had to do something.
It all poured over me as we hugged our sobbing sister. The
confusion and then the terror as Daddy showed me his cock and
then forced it into my mouth. I was not afraid at all at first. It was a
wonderful revelation to see this marvellous thing. I wanted to touch it
I felt even more tingly and excited as he asked me to kiss it. I might
have even liked it if he had let me work up to it on my own.
But he forced it into my mouth and held me on it as I struggled
to breathe. It was a horrible intruder forcing its way into my throat and
choking me. And no matter how hard I fought, he held me tight and
poked it in and out of my mouth until I was so near passing out that I
had to stop struggling to try and breathe. I don't remember his climax.
I think it was so traumatic that I have blocked it out. But I remember
my face in the mirror after and the streaky white stuff running down the
corners of my mouth and dripping on my favorite Winnie the Pooh
pajamas.
I wasn't 13 yet. But I had got my period and that was enough
for Dad. The next time my name was pulled, I vowed to wait for him
and be so good he wouldn't have to me. I fell asleep. I woke up
when he knelt on my arm and saw him swing his leg over me to trap me
under him. I begged him to let me up so I could be better and make him
happier, but he just leaned forward and pushed his cock into my mouth.
"If you want to make it better, then suck- suck hard," was his
only concession to my pleas.
That climax I remember. I was in total distress as the salty burned my throat and somehow got forced into my nose. It was a fiery
agony as the stuff ran out of my nose like snot and I struggled again to
breathe.
He didn't let me suck it without being held down until after he
took my virginity. I guess he knew how badly he me when he
forced open my untried sheath and fucked me the first time. I think he
felt that was enough of a threat to insure that I would suck him
properly rather than risk being entered like that again.
And now he was going to put Melissa through the same drill. I
didn't want to comfort her as she bled after he had pushed her legs apart
and forced open her childish slit. I didn't want to bear the silence of not
talking about our greatest fears. I did not want it to go on.
It took a few days for the plan to come together in my mind. It
took a while longer for me to work up the guts to try it.
Melissa's next ordeal with the rapist that comes in the night was
the spark. It brought back all the rage and sense of purpose. I took the
knife and went to Daddy's bedroom. I knew what I had to do.
I knew I couldn't overpower him, but I knew his weakness. He
was troubled when I walked into the bedroom, but I had planned how
I would put him at ease.
"Daddy, you don't like 'Lissa bettern' me do you?" I asked
childishly.
I thought he would buy sibling jealousy.
"No, pumpkin, of course not," he soothed, "You know it was
just her turn. That's why we have the job jar."
"You sure?" I asked and stood by the edge of the bed.
He opened the covers and made room for me beside him.
"Yes, honey, it was her turn," he said.
I nestled in beside him and in the course of settling in, put my
hand on his cock under his nightshirt. I felt it stir at my touch.
"Can I?" I asked, "Even if it isn't my turn?"
"Sure, pumpkin, if it will make you feel better," he said.
I needed him relaxed and unaware. I'm sure he was
laughing inside at getting a blow job out of being a kind daddy to his
little girl. I gathered up the nightshirt until his cock was exposed and
went down on him. I needed him relaxed and unaware. His cock got
hard almost at the touch of my mouth. But then he put his hands on my
head to stroke my hair.
I was afraid he could break my neck. I on his cock and
hoped I would get an opportunity to carry out my plan. Perhaps it was
because I was practiced. Perhaps it was because I was distracted and
sucking his cock by rote, but it seemed like Daddy was enjoying this
blowjob more than anything else he had done with me. He got very
excited very quickly and was soon gripping the bedclothes rather than
my head.
His hips were bucking off the bed, forcing his cock into my
mouth when I brought the knife up. It was easier than I thought. Even
if it feels like there's a bone in it, there's not. The knife sliced through
scrotum and penis like slicing a tomato and with a corresponding splatter. His hands came up, but not to grab me. He clutched at his
injury while unleashing the most ungodly howl.
They didn't find me hiding in the bushes until morning. I was still
clutching the bloody knife.
My lawyer says it's unlikely that I'll do any real prison time, but
she thinks I'm just as well off staying in the juvenile detention facility for
the trial. It might be easier to find a foster home I like after all the facts
come out, she says.
Since it was so close to her birthday, Karen has been allowed to
move in with Sharon, but my lawyer says it's not likely they will be given
custody of Melissa, Emily and me. Personally, I don't care- I can take
care of myself, but I'm scared for Melissa and Emily.
But it had to be done. Even my lawyer is saying it was justified.
I just wish I had killed the bastard. And my mom? She can rot in
hell.
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