Daddy’s Little Whore Part 1

It was around 3am when I stumbled through the door, completely wasted, trying to push my long red hair out of my eyes. My low cut crop top stretched tight over my firm 32c breasts, my short denim skirt hung low on my hips and was barely long enough to hide my flimsy black thong. I stumbled through the front hallway, tripping over my six inch black heels and crashing giggling into the wall. I pushed myself away from the wall and started to make my way through the dark living room when suddenly the light flicked on, making me freeze in place as a deep, slurred voice demanded,

“Where have you been young lady?!”

I turned slowly towards the voice to see my dad sitting on the couch, an empty glass in his hand, a half-empty whisky bottle on the side table. Anger flashed in his dark eyes as he rose, slightly unsteady, to his feet, his presence menacing as he stalked over to me, six feet tall, dark eyes and hair, his body lean and muscular, like a Jaguar with prey in its sights.

“Well young lady?” He asked stopping in front of me, towering over me. Fear crept through my drunken haze as I stammered,

“I-I was just out with a couple of friends Daddy… like I told you earlier…”

“Don’t lie to me!” He roared suddenly, stepping closer, forcing me to back up against the wall. “You expect me to believe you were ‘out with friends’ until 3am, dressed like a whore? You can barely stand you’re so drunk! You were at another damned party!”

I shrank away from him. “I-I’m sorry Daddy!” I slurred. “I just wanted to have a little fun after finals…”

“Fun?” He shouted. “Dressed like that? I’ll bet you had a ton of ‘fun!’ How many of the boys there got to have ‘fun’ with you, huh?”

“I just- I just wanted to look sexy,” I squeaked, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t- I wouldn’t do anything like that Daddy…”

He stepped closer, his body almost touching mine as I pressed myself against the wall. “Don’t lie to me young lady! No boy is going to let someone dressed like you leave without enjoying you first. And if you’re half the whore you look like right now- you’d have let them. Are you a whore Amy? Is that how you want to be treated?” His voice changed with the question- deeper, huskier somehow, and there was a strange hunger in his eyes i dismissed as anger in my stupor.

I looked down again, ashamed to meet his eyes. He snorted derisively, then suddenly grabbed me, one hand cupping my ass and the other grabbing my face, forcing me to meet his gaze, his body pushing forward against mine at the same time, pinning me between himself and the wall. I was vaguely aware of something pressing against my stomach as he did.

“So you are a little whore,” he said with a growl. “Maybe I should show you what happens to whores who lie to their Daddies…” he said, then his hand slid from holding my face to grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. His hand slid beneath my skirt to grip my ass tighter as he forced a rough kiss on my unsuspecting lips, causing me to cry out in alarm. I tried to push him away but it was like fighting a wall. His kiss tasted like whiskey and felt like it would leave bruises.

His hand left my ass and moved to cup one of my breasts, groping it hard as he forced his tongue into my mouth. Again I tried to fight him, push him away, and suddenly his mouth was gone from mine and he had grabbed one of my wrists, spinning me around and pressing me face first against the wall. I could feel the silk of his tie as he bound my wrists tightly behind my back before wrapping a hand around my throat and growling in my ear, “whores don’t fight back, little girl.”

He jerked me away from the wall and forced me across the room, half dragging me to the couch, where he threw me down, my back against it. I looked up at him, confused and afraid. “Daddy, why are you doing this?” I asked, tears escaping my eyes.

His gaze was predatory as it roamed over my tight young body. My skirt had ridden up, teasing a view of my thong as I lay helpless on the cushions.

“I have tried to be patient. I have tried talking. It seems now the only way to keep you from dressing like a whore is to treat you like one,” he said angrily, kneeling by the couch, his hands reaching down to pull up my shirt, revealing my firm young tits.

“Don’t do this Daddy- please,” I begged pitifully.