My daughter was finally returned

“Mr Smith I know this is difficult to accept, and we will give you all the resources we can to aid you and your family.” I heard the lady say this to me, but I was not comprehending any of it. I stared blankly at the window with tears in my eyes. I was full of confusion, shame, regret, and deep anger. I wasn’t sure at the time who I was most upset with at the time, the evil mother fuckers that stole my daughter’s life, or the worthless absent father who was an unaware enabler who I see in the mirror every day.

My name is Jason Smith and I am a recovering addict, a terrible father, and the worst person I know. When I was 18 years old I had a variety of problems. I didn’t have any structure in life and I was a rebellious little shit. I was a dropout who peddled a little dope on the streets of KCMO. I had no future and looking back I think I knew where my life was headed. I met a skanky little lady named Trish that I thought at the time I was in love with. She was kind of hot and freaky in bed. We shared a little run down trailer in the city. We didn’t work. We were both addicts who didn’t do anything but do dope, fuck, and sell crystal to support ourselves and our own habit.

After living this dope fueled life for a few months we were offered an opportunity to step up in the drug world by making more money moving dope from Mexico up to St Louis. I say it was an offer, but our supplier volun-told us to do it or else he would kill us both. We owed him a few grand for crystal we smoked so we didn’t have much choice. He was connected and although I didn’t much value my life much at the time, I didn’t want it taken by some goofy ass dope boy with a gun. I remember the night vividly because he forced Trish to suck his dick while he pointed a gun at my head. After he blew a load in her mouth he said that token of “good faith” was enough to offer us this one gig to pay back what we owed him. I was so scared at the time this happened I don’t even remember being angry at Trish for doing it. It may have literally saved our lives. A few days later we were provided a rental car and were given instructions on the route to take, location to get the load, and the location to deliver it. It seemed like an easy few days of driving and I wasn’t sure if we had the choice whether to decline or not. The Cartel is not the kind of people to fuck with.

Trish and I made our way down south. We met a sketchy crew of hombres in a gross little van on a rural dirt road near a border town in Arizona. I remember being terrified as we pulled up to them. I partially expected to be executed, but thankfully they were reasonably pleasant. They gave us food, water, a prepaid phone (first generation before they even flipped) and they loaded the trunk of the car with a dozen bags. I didn’t dare ask what was in them, I knew better than to risk getting smoked for asking too many questions. One of the men placed an electronic device on the trunk lid and one under the car. I later learned that the device on the trunk lid would notify them via GPS that I opened the trunk and the other was an actual GPS to track the car. This was pretty new technology at the time and I remember being impressed by the amount of thought that was put into this endeavor.

They gave us a little bag of crystal so we could “stay awake” for the long drive to St Louis and not have to stop and rest. We were certainly appreciative at the time. We smoked less that ten minutes after we embarked on this journey. Thoughts of running off and taking the dope for ourselves crossed my mind but the fear of retaliation to me and my entire family made me think differently. I didn’t much care for my parents or my brother but I did have nephews that wouldn’t deserve paying for my stupidity. The thing I liked most about Trish is she was always horny as fuck when she was high. Junkies have a super high sex drive when they’re on dope and it is almost impossible to satisfy it. Sometimes we will fuck and fuck and fuck until we are raw. At the time, I thought it was great but the orgasms were never very satisfying. Several hours into the trip we finished the sack of glass they tipped us. I was driving good, wide awake, and just drove into the corner of Missouri. Six more hours and we are there. Trish had been begging me to pull over to fuck but I didn’t want the Cartel thinking we were making unscheduled stops so I declined. Trish finally had enough and stripped her jeans off and started to loudly masturbate in the passenger’s seat. I struggled to keep my eyes forward but I did my best. After several minutes of hearing her slosh her loose pussy around she finally let out a moan and rested. It was impossible to not be turned on by her actions so as soon as she finished I pulled my cock out and waved it at her. She needed no further instruction as she leaned over the console and started sucking like a pro. This, this was the moment that my life changed forever. This was the decision that ultimately reshaped the future of my life. Seven minutes into the road head I unleased a much needed load into Trish’s mouth. I was high and put more force on the back of her head than I typically would but I wanted to finish as deep in her mouth as I could. When I felt I was completely empty I released her. She was such a used up dope slut that the treatment didn’t even bother her. Before she met me she had been treated way more aggressively. She sat back down in her seat, looked up and screamed “Oh Shit”

I was so caught up in the blowjob and my own high that I hadn’t noticed the red and blue lights behind us. I heard the police siren blare and I panicked. I knew I’d go to prison if they searched the car so I floored the gas and though I’d outrun the old cop car. Next thing I know, we are going 112mph down the turnpike with now three police cars hot on my ass. I pushed this shitbox rental car to its breaking point. I heard a loud BOOM under the hood and the car died. The car rolled to a smoky stop. Trish and I bailed out the car and took off running in opposite directions. I made it less than 100 yards before the cops cornered me in a small forested area off the highway. I tried to fight but the truth is they kicked my ass. I might have gotten one good punch in but I didn’t really stand a chance. I was cuffed and dragged back to the highway and put in the back of a police car. Trish actually faired a bit better than me. She made it over a half hour before she was found. I later learned that skinny bitch hid inside a hollow tree stump.

We were taken to the local jail and I was interviewed by several detectives. I told them all to go fuck themselves. I denied knowing what was in the trunk of the car. I truly didn’t know technically but I wasn’t surprised to learn they found 200 lbs of crystal. I was surprised to learn one of the bags had three fully automatic sub machine guns in it though. That was a felony I was not prepared to take. The next day I was interviewed by a couple DEA agents. They threatened me with life in prison if I didn’t snitch. As scared as I was, I decided to keep my mouth shut in fear my nephews could be killed by the cartel if I said anything.

To make a long story shorter, six months later I was sentenced to 7 years in Prison. My court appointed attorney was good, but the evidence against me was just overwhelming. I was surprised to learn that the fucking cunt Trish took a deal. She spilled her guts, told the DEA everything and actually testified against me in my trial. She was only sentenced to two years. The biggest shocker however, is that Trish found out she was pregnant while she was incarcerated. At my trial she was 7 months along. I was angry that she was doing this to me, but I was a bit relieved that she was clean and the baby was not being drugged. I was pretty sure the baby was mine, Trish claimed it was, but not seeing it for the next 7 years was difficult to accept. A few months later Trish gave birth to a little girl she named Robbyn. I never got one phone call, one letter, or even a picture of the girl. When you’re in prison, you are powerless to the outside world.

While I served my time I met an old man named Beau who was serving life for his boss’ murder. Despite his history, the man was like a father to me. He was full of wisdom and he really motivated me to be a better man. Before he shot his boss in the face for sleeping with his wife, Beau was actually personal security for the local football team. Beau must have listened to way too many motivational speeches from the coaches because he was a real motivator. He was wise beyond his years and I credit him for turning my life around.

I was released from Prison after serving 5 years and 1 month. I was moved into a halfway “oxford” house for the first year I was out of prison. It not only motivated me to stay clean and sober, but it allowed me the ability to help council other addicts. Beau really taught me how to help people and I loved doing it.

I made several attempts to contact Trish and Robbyn but I had no idea where they were. I made over a hundred phone calls and found out they moved around a lot. Trish’s sister told me they haven’t seen them in years and last she knew, Trish had plans to move to New York state but had no idea where.

I never gave up my search for my daughter. Five years after my release I was doing pretty well for myself given my past. I was a head councilor in a program that helps drug addicts, sex addicts, alcoholics, and people suffering with depression. I made a fair salary that I used to go to night school and earned a degree in this field. I loved what I did and I was really getting good at helping people kick addiction and helping them through life’s real struggles. I felt I made a difference in the world and I was using my second chance in life to its fullest. I hired a private investigation firm to find Trish and Robbyn. They found where she had been arrested in a few states for drug possession, but she was long gone from those areas. She was really a drifter, running from the law, and dragging my daughter along the way. My new focus in life was to find my daughter and be a real father. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be working.

Several years later, when Robbyn would have been a Jr High student, I got the worst news of my life. I was contacted by an FBI agent who informed me that my daughter Robbyn had been sold to human traffickers. That stupid cunt Trish was so strung out and in need of a high that she sold Robbyn to known traffickers in Florida. The investigator had recently busted a part of the organization and found documentation that Robbyn had been sold to them for five thousand dollars. The investigator said they also found Trish, deceased in her car of an apparent overdose.

I was devastated by the news. I was angry, and worried about Robbyn and what was being done to her. The agent was a really good dude and he not only told me a little about Robbyn, but he later mailed me the only picture they had of her. She was beautiful. Petite like her mother, but she was not ate up by drugs and a hard life.

The agent and I stayed in touch over the years. Every time they would get a tip or a hint of where she could be he would tell me. Mostly in countries in South America that I had barely heard of. I eventually lost some hope that Robbyn would be found. I continued to council people in my organization which had grown to cover three states. Although my own life was in turmoil, at least I could help others. I never really settled down with one lady in my entire life. I met plenty of great women that would be fun for a few months until the relationship or the sex grew stale then I would move on. Counseling people through their sex addictions opened up my mind to all the kinkiest parts of the human brain most people couldn’t handle. I found it intriguing and entertaining at times. There are some really freaky people out there that make gang bangs look like cuddling in comparison. Although I found it entertaining, I had an uncanny ability to talk them through finding a positive coping method for those addictions.

Six years after Robbyn was sold into human trafficking, the Agent called me and gave me the long awaited news that Robbyn had been found, she is alive, and they are bringing her back to the US. It was literally the best news I had ever heard in my entire life. We scheduled a meeting in Virginia where I would go and stay a few days while their doctors, Investigators, and psychiatrists treated Robbyn. I was so excited to see my daughter for the very first time even if she was now 19 years old. I wasn’t sure what kind of mental condition she would be in, but I was prepared to spend the rest of my life trying to help her through it.

When I arrived in Virginia I met with Robbyn’s psychiatrist and doctors. I was not mentally prepared for them to tell me what she had been through the past several years.

“Mr Smith I know this is difficult to accept, and we will give you all the resources we can to aid you and your family.” I heard the lady say this to me, but I was not comprehending any of it. I stared blankly at the window with tears in my eyes. I was full of confusion, shame, regret, and deep anger. I wasn’t sure at the time who I was most upset with at the time, the evil mother fuckers that stole my daughter’s life, or the worthless absent father who was an unaware enabler who I see in the mirror every day.

I learned that my daughter was purchased by a millionaire from Canada named Richard VanCole. He was an investment banker who had stolen millions from investors and before he was captured fled to South America with his fortune. VanCole had several homes along the coast but spent most of his time on his 8 million dollar yacht the size of a small town. VanCole had purchased a couple girls that lived most of their lives on the boat where they were subject to all his sexual desires. Robbyn and another girl named Sasha were his personal sex servants for years. I was informed he was rarely violent with them and even rewarded them for good behavior by taking them on luxurious vacations around the globe with his paid security team. I learned that his Yacht accidently drifted into international waters and the UN coast guard surrounded the Yacht. VanCole released the girls before going below deck and shooting himself in the head. Apparently he had thousands of hours of sex videos that he made with Robbyn and the other girl.

The worst part however, was when the shrink told me about Robbyn’s psyche after years of being with VanCole. Apparently Robbyn had a terrible condition of Stockholm syndrome. The personnel that originally interviewed her learned that Robbyn would only refer to VanCole as “Daddy” and she refused to say anything bad about him. Apparently she believed she loved him and she didn’t actually want to leave him. VanCole was 61 years old and Robbyn believed she belonged to him and it was her life’s duty to serve and please him. They didn’t go into much detail, but suggested their sexual acts were extremely perverse. Since Robbyn was brought to the medical center in Virginia, she had refused to speak. She was told I was coming to see her and take her to her real home and Robbyn didn’t even respond. The staff had purchased Robbyn a variety of moderate clothing, since she only has risqué outfits on the boat but Robbyn wasn’t responding well to wearing the body covering garments. Apparently she preferred the hooker clothing VanCole made her wear.

The medical center staff and the investigators had provided me with the knowledge, but they didn’t have many suggestions on how to help her adapt to normal life. We put together a plan, that involves me taking Robbyn home, if she was willing, and slowly allowing her to discover what freedom really was. She only had a 7th grade education and getting her enrolled in an education system for her would be a priority and a struggle. She had little experience with the newest technology and culture. I learned that the only television she was ever allowed to watch was hardcore pornography. She had missed out on a big part of a young lady’s life and it was my job to re-introduce her to reality without causing any more damage to her psyche and forcing her into an actual psyche hospital for who knows how long. The only real communication the staff was having with Robbyn at this point was through writing. Robbyn was unwilling or unable to talk to them but she would write down short answers to their questions. She still remembered how to type and text and they had plans to stay in touch with her both electronically and weekly visits to our home. Vancole had provided Robbyn with pretty good medical care over the years. She was healthy, a bit pampered, and now she was safer than ever.

When I finally got to see Robbyn, I stepped into her housing room and I burst into tears and stepped up to her with my arms out. I was hopeful for a hug but she just looked down and turned her back to me. I should have known that would seem odd from a complete stranger you’ve never seen before. She was told in advance I was her father but I can understand the hesitation. I composed myself and told her that I was happy to meet her, that I loved her, and that I will spend the rest of my life helping her become the happiest girl on earth. Robbyn was a petite girl, long blonde hair, and sky blue eyes that she definitely got from me. She was a beautiful girl. She was 5’2’’ tall, a little curve in her hips, and I hate to say it but she had a solid b cup. I had never seen her before so all I was doing was sizing her up.

We stayed at the medical center for 3 more days. Robbyn didn’t speak much but she would muster out short phrases when really pressed. I got her a cell phone on day 2 that allowed her to text me if she had something to say. I made it clear to her that she could tell me whatever she wanted and if she needed to tell me though text I would be happy to hear it. Robbyn agreed to write in a journal explaining what had happened to her from the time she was taken/sold to when she was rescued on the boat. Knowing that could take weeks and/or months complete, they were sending the journal home with her to use as a diary to explain what she had gone through. Since Robbyn was reluctant to speak, they believed this would provide help and evidence to fight human sex trafficking in the future. Apparently Robbyn had written in it some already and the investigators were happy with her detail and honesty in it so they encouraged her to continue as long as she could.

Slowly we made progress and the staff thought getting her out of the center and into her own home and own room would be a good next step. It was a 6 hour drive home but I think it would be a great time to get to know each other. We hit the road the next morning at 8am. What few belongings she had were loaded into my SUV and we drove off hoping this would be a new joyous beginning. I talked, and talked, and talked for the first hour. I kept babbling about how happy I was to see her and get her home. Robbyn nodded a few times but didn’t say much. I thought I was annoying her so I turned the radio on low volume. That was something Robbyn responded to. I saw she was slightly lip singing with the old country song on the radio. Music must be a real escape for her so I turned the volume up and started singing along. She was kind of doing the same but quietly. It was the first time I felt like we were connecting since we met.

Another hour later Robbyn appeared to have fallen asleep. I glanced at her as she slept peacefully and reminded myself how lucky I was that she was alive and right where she was supposed to be.

Robbyn woke around 2pm as we pulled up to my home. It wasn’t much but it was a good little house on the outskirts of town. I owned about 20 acres or forested area around my home that I like to bow hunt on. It was perfect for me and I think it would be a great place for Robbyn to begin her new life. I grabbed her bags and escorted her into the house. I walked her to her new room which I hadn’t had time to decorate or anything. It was a spare room with a queen bed and a couple dressers. It wasn’t much but it was a safe place to sleep. I gave Robbyn some privacy to put her things away and get settled in. I went to the kitchen and stuck a pizza in the oven. I wasn’t sure if she’d like it but I assumed it was a safe bet.

When it was done cooking I knocked on Robbyns door and told her that lunch was ready and to come on out and eat. A few minutes later she emerged from her room and I almost fainted. Robbyn apparently didn’t want to wear the clothes the staff got her. She came out to the kitchen wearing a tiny pair of yoga shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top. She definitely wasn’t wearing a bra. I saw her large pointy nipples trying to pierce through her shirt. Her nipples were much larger than her breasts would suggest. I was so stunned by her clothing I stumbled over my words about the food. Robbyn sat across the table from me and looked at the plate of pizza. She didn’t move, she just looked down waiting. I told her to go ahead and eat and she cautiously picked up the pizza and nibbled on it. I wasn’t sure why she was so reluctant but I assumed meals on that boat went a lot differently. I tried to make small talk but she didn’t say much. She just nibbled on the food and occasionally nodded. After she ate about half of her pizza, it was clear she was finished. I asked her if she needed anything from the store. I told her we could go get her anything she needed like clothes, bedroom furniture, a tv, or whatever she wanted. She briefly looked at me like she wanted to talk but she didn’t. I cleaned up the plates while she sat there silently, thinking about how I could get her to communicate. Then I remembered I gave her the phone to text me, which was about the only way she would communicate at the medical facility. I said to Robbyn “Why don’t you go ahead and text me a list of things you want. ANYTHING you want, and I will try to get them for you. I want you to be comfortable and feel at home here.”Robbyn glanced at me briefly and then walked back to her new room. I finished the dishes and I sent her a text “I really want to help you adapt here, what is something you want to make you feel more comfortable. Anything at all?”

I was trying to get an open line of communication started. I did do that, just not in the way I expected. Robbyn replied to me saying “I miss Daddy.” I read that statement and I hated myself all over again. That statement really hit me in the guts as it reminded me how much I have failed her. After a moment to calm my self-hatred I replied “I understand, but I am here for you now, your real dad, and I want to make you the happiest girl in the world. I will do whatever it takes to bring you joy in life.” I meant every word of that statement. I believed I would do anything to see her smile. I was not ready for her answer.

Robbyn replied “Daddy brought me joy with his cock. I’m not taking care of it like I should be.” As angry as I should have been thinking about that old bastard fucking my brainwashed daughter for years, I couldn’t help but to find that statement a little arousing. I responded: “The only thing you should be taking care of right now is yourself. Let’s not think about his needs, let’s think about your needs. What do you need right now that doesn’t have to do with him?” I waited for several minutes before I got a reply. Robbyn said “I don’t know. I’m horny and I don’t have Daddy or any toys or Sasha. Daddy would never make me go 2 weeks without making me cum.”

Honestly, how the fuck do you respond do that? What the fuck is an appropriate response? I have counselled a lot of sex addicts but I have never heard such a blunt answer. I couldn’t help but find myself aroused at her statement but I certainly wasn’t about to go fuck her. I wanted her to feel comfortable and I knew I couldn’t overreact so I thought out my response carefully. I said “Nobody is stopping you from servicing yourself. In your room you can do whatever you want in private. Masturbation is normal, and you are welcome to do it as much as you’d like in there or in the bathroom. This is your home now, you have all the freedom.” I think she’s way beyond birds and the bees talk. Might as well talk to her like she’s an adult and see how she responds. Robbyn surprised me again by saying “I can’t cum with my hands. I need my pussy fucked by daddy’s cock or with toys.” I couldn’t help but to cringe as my cock swelled to full size under my pants. I hated myself for responding this way, but I couldn’t get the idea of a professional fuck-slut in my house that’s crazy horny. I hated it because I wasn’t thinking of her as my daughter and as a toy just like VanCole did. I didn’t know what to do to help her. I couldn’t fuck her and I didn’t have any toys… or did I? I walked back to my bedroom and went through the spare drawer at the bottom of my dresser that my last girlfriend used when she stayed over. Not much was left in there except the one thing I was looking for. I pulled out an 8” suction cup dildo that my ex Sara liked to use. She liked to take it into the shower together and stick it to the wall. She would take turns between sucking on it while I fucked her doggy style, to turning around and fucking it while sucking my dick. She always wanted to have a 3 way with a guy and that was how she fantasized about it. It was a slender dong. It beat me a little by length but I had the advantage in girth. I held up the dong and snapped a picture of it. I sent the pic to Robbyn with the message “If it would help, my old girlfriend left this behind. You can have it if you want.” Less than 10 seconds passed before Robbyn replied “Yes please”

I walked down the hall and with a comical thud I suctioned the dong to the outside of Robbyn’s door. As I walked by I said to the door “It’s all yours.” I walked out to the living room and sat in my recliner. I heard her door open, the distinct sound of the dong being plopped off the door, then the door shut again right away. I was hard as a rock knowing what was about to happen in there. I got a message from Robbyn that said “do I have to be quiet? Daddy likes it when I talk dirty and it helps me get off when I do.” I read that message and I could feel precum ooze from my restrained cock. I replied “No baby, this is your house, you can make as much noise as you want and say anything you want to.” With that, I walked into my room which was more soundproof, and I laid on my bed. I turned on my television and turned up the volume. I told myself I wasn’t supposed to hear what was coming although my dick was excited to find out.

I can’t even remember what show I was watching. I was staring at the TV and couldn’t see or hear anything other than the thoughts in my head. My dick was hard and ready and my conscious was telling me to stop being a perverted piece of shit.