Case History 3

SUBJECT: Terry S. AGE: Sixteen

INTERVIEW ONE

Terry S. was sent to my office by her mother, who was recently divorced from the girl's father on grounds of extreme mental cruelty. Terry was a small, frail girl of considerable charm, great wit, much youthful beauty, but rather minimal physcial development.

At sixteen, Terry wore no cosmetics, not even lipstick. Her reddish hair, which she wore long in adorable braids with bows and bangs, made her pale skin look almost ghostly. Like Lana T., she was far too thin, but she did not have the developed breasts of Lana T. She had perhaps the tiniest little breasts I have ever seen on a sixteen year old girl, but the quality I noticed first was her skin, which was almost ghostly white. It was not the color of chalk, nor was it pallid or milky, but it was white in a way that skin seldom is. I have never seen such a snow white girl. She looked as though she had never in her life been in the sun, rather like a hot house orchid. I must say that she looked a little unhealthy.

The stark whiteness of her skin, combined with the modest endowment of her breasts and the long silky red braids, made Terry seem younger than her sixteen tears. If I had not had her file in front of me, I would have guessed her to be a blossoming twelve year old.

I soon saw that she was a highly troubled little girl, as anyone can discern from this transcript of our interview.

Who are you, Doctor? Can you tell me why I should trust you? And who do you think I am, and how do you think you can help me, knowing nothing of my life?

I suppose I could tell you in a minute or two everything you would need to know. No one has died in my life. That is something, I suppose. No one died this year, or last; I doubt anyone will die next year, but for some reason I find myself preoccupied with death. It is a morbid topic for a young girl to dwell on, I know, and I am sure it is not amusing to hear.

You are wondering why I talk about death before I talk about anything else. But I am not talking about death; I am talking about no one dying. I often feel that if no one dies life is uneventful. I do not mean what you think. I am not saying that I crave the excitement of people dying. I only believe that if no one ever dies in our life we have no hope of growing up. I sometimes feel that I will never grow up.

Look at me, Doctor. Would anyone believe that I am sixteen years old and almost a woman? Don't answer, I will. No, no one would believe it. I do not look sixteen. I look eleven or twelve, and the reason is not that I know little of life. In fact, I know far too much.

Do you like to be amused, Doctor. Is it dreary for you to sit day after day in this office, glued to a chair, listening to the tirades of uninteresting people. Do you often wish that one of your patients would stop dwelling on their problems and, just once, tell you a tale of some amusement? Do you sometimes sit in your chair and pray for a laugh, feeling that you have not had one in years and that if you do not soon hear a clever joke you will turn to stone?

I wish that I could amuse you, Doctor. I would love to have a small comic talent, for I have no talent for tragedy. I have read that tragedy is what gives mankind its little glimmer of divinity, but I do not find this true in life. I have a proclivity for tragedy, but no talent for it, because I am unable to accept it gracefully.

Sixteen, you think. Yes, I know what you are thinking. How much tragedy can such a little girl have experienced? You do not need to voice your questions. I know them before you speak; I know them all.

I shall tell you how much tragedy a young girl can have. Maybe you will not think it a tragedy. Farce, maybe, or melodrama you might call it. That is because you have not known in your own life what I will tell you. Had you lived it, you would not disagree that it is tragic.

When I was eight years old, my father gave me a quarter. He told me to unzip him, to pull him out of his trousers and take him in my little mouth. He maneuvered my head up and down on his tall standing cock until I tasted a great salty splash against my licking tongue. Then he gave me a dollar and told me never to tell anyone what had happened.

How could I tell anyone, Doctor? I had no idea what had happened, nor would I have until years later, after it had happened over and over, hundreds of times. I knew only that I loved it. Yes, that is the shameful truth, Doctor. I loved it with a passion, and I wanted more of it! I wanted Daddy to do it to me every day!

He did not do it every day. I often asked him to do it again. He had told me never to ask when my mother or anyone else was around, and I obeyed these instructions, knowing intuitively that it was something secret between us. But on rainy afternoons, when my mother was at work, and when I had nothing to do, I would go to my Daddy and reach between his legs, trying to pull him out of his pants. Sometimes he would let me, sometimes not, depending, I know now, on whether or not he was horny.

In its own peculiar way, Doctor, it was very innocent. Daddy would put his cock in my mouth and I would lick and suck it, often fondling his balls while he tickled me between my young legs. He would come in my mouth and I would feel delicious bliss, if not quite orgasm, between my long pubescent legs.

This went on for years, and later, when I was about thirteen, Daddy said that I was getting too old for our little game. I did not know what he meant by that. I did not think that I was too old, and at that time I wanted more than ever to play. I wanted to go on playing forever.

Daddy would not let me touch him. He would not even kiss me gently on the lips. He began to avoid me and I felt that he no longer loved me. Even mother, who rarely notices anything but a run in her stockings or a false eye lash gone awry, could see that Daddy was staying away from me. I even heard them discussing it one night, when I was supposed to be asleep. Daddy said that she was imagining things, but I knew that she was not. We could not both be seeing the same thing in our imaginations.

I knew for certain that Daddy was ignoring me, and I worried that as I was growing older I was becoming less adorable. It frightened me terribly that I would become old and haggard before my time.

Then Daddy was convicted of rape. Whether he actually did it to the little girl, or whether he was accused falsely, I don't know. But he was sent away to prison, and Mother and I were alone for two long years.

I missed Daddy terribly. It is funny to think of it now. This year, today, I loathe my father. I never want to see him again. I want him dead. This is what I was talking about before, Doctor. I will never be able to forgive him, and I wish that he would die.

This is what is so hiedous in my life, Doctor. Have you ever hated someone, I mean, truly despised them from the bottom of your heart? If you have, then you might know something of what I am trying to tell you, and if you have loved someone ineffably, with all your passion, and have felt that passion turn to hatred, a vehement, raging and all encompassing hatred, then you will know exactly what I suffer in my life.

However furiously I loathe him now, I cannot deny that while he was in prison I missed Daddy with an ache I cannot describe. At night, when I lay my little body in my bed, I would feel my young nipples stiffen and my tiny little cunny would get wet and hot, dripping on the sheet as I thought of my Daddy.

Before I went to sleep, every night of my life, the last image in my conscious mind would be my Daddy's big cock. I would imagine that I was looking down at my own gulping mouth, watching the way his stiff stick moved in and out. In my mind I would hear the sound of his heavy animal breathing and the sighs of my little body as I hungrily devoured his potent meat.

In the morning, when I awakened, I would abhor the view outside my window and the sight of my own bedroom, because all night I had been swooning in the image of my Daddy's body in the sweetest dreams any loving daughter had ever had. I wanted never to awaken, always to stay in the paradise of my slumber, with my Daddy's cock in my mouth and his hard heavy balls in my hand, drinking the never ending streams of sperm that blasted hotly in my mouth, coating my moist cheeks.

For two endless years I lived this way, yearning for dreams and dreading life. I could abide my contempt for the loneliness of reality only on the strength of my marvelous dreams, which seemed so much more lovely, splendid and real than my life. When I was asleep and wrapped warmly in the rapture of my dreams, I could not only see, but also taste and smell my father's maleness as he humped my face, and when he shot his violent load into my mouth I rejoiced in my pussy at the taste and texture of his wonderful sperm.

I suppose you could say that I lived in a fantasy world, but I have always found that phrase trite. People who accuse others of living in a fantasy world obviously know nothing about life, and certainly nothing about their own life. If they did they would impugn the fantasies of others, knowing that they lived all their life in one of their own. Everyone creates their own fantasy world to live in, and the only difference between one person and another is that one might drift into sweet fantasy, knowing it for what it is, and the other might make a fantasy that engulfs him, gives no pleasure, without ever realizing that it is fantasy. Those who make martyrs of themselves, slaving in roles or jobs they hate, live as far from reality as those of of us who fabricate delight and dance our lives away. Why should we sweat and toil our lives away, when we can laugh our way through all our years? Do you not agree that a solemn life is as false and fanciful as a merry one?

My felicitous fantasy was invaded by a grim one. For two years I flitted between melancholy and rhapsody, from day to night, but in time my life became horrid without relent.

There is little to tell you about the two years my father was away, except that I tried to console my yearning for him in the embraces of many boys and men. I became promiscuous, quite a wicked little vixen, I suppose. I took men in my mouth, and it was not long before I discovered the magic of my pussy.

I began to wear lipstick, perfumes, mascara, and all kinds of brazen adornments. With my tiny body and mere petals of breasts I knew that I could not play the voluptuous hussy, but I worked with the assets I had and cultivated the image of the adorably chic nymphet. I must say that I was divinely successful and never wanted for male attentions. I advertised the vacany of my cunt by flashing my lovely eyes and pouting with my darling and glistening lips, which were always moist and ready to caress an enormous cock.

Mother was too oblivious to know what was going on. She had always been a career woman, because my father was an incorrigibly nefarious man, the quintessential ne'er do well. And why should he have been otherwise. He was handsome and charming and had my mother for a meal ticket. Mother made good money in something typical like advertising, and Daddy spent each day as he liked.

He had all the time in the world to engage in whatever activities he liked, and he might well have raped the little girl out of sheer boredom.

I used to stay out until the most ridiculous hours, sucking cock, getting fucked in the pussy, being eaten by men. It was not uncommon for me to stagger home at four in the morning. If I didn't feel like going to school the next day, that was all there was to it; I wouldn't go.

One night I came back with liquor on my breath, ripped to the tits, and my pussy overflowing with my dripping discharges and gallons of male cum.

I was astonished to see my father, shirtless and unshaven, sitting in a chair with a bourbon bottle nestled between, his legs. I was ecstatic to see him after two interminable years and I wished that I had been fresher for the reunion. I would have liked to greet him all bathed, sparkling and scented, rather than flushed by lust and smelling of fucking.

"Daddy, when did you come back? How did you get out?" I squealed in joy.

"I got off on good behavior, Terry, which is more than I can say for you. What have you done to yourself? What's been going on while I was gone? You look like a little tramp. What are those clothes you're wearing? You're showing your tits and ass like a hooker, and you stink of pussy and gism."

I was startled by my father's frankness, but at first he seemed more dismayed than angry. His return made me see myself in a new light. I began to feel guilty of my shameless conduct and decided to change my ways, but before I could make my promise to my Daddy, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his lap.

I was overjoyed, Doctor. You cannot imagine how happy I was. I knew that my Daddy was back and that I would no longer have to console myself with the endless string of men who came daily in my cunt.

I felt my father's huge body pressing my hand against him. My tiny breasts rubbed through my nearly transparent halter top against his well muscled chest, and I felt his coarse facial stubble scratching my soft cheeks, burning them deliciously. I could smell on his breath the odors of bourbon and tobacoo, but even more strongly I could inhale the divine musk of his sweaty balls.

"You're a shameless creature, Teresa," My father said, calling me by the name he used only when he was inordinately pleased or angry with me.

"Daddy, I missed you so much. Let's don't talk about how bad I've been. I know that I have been bad, but I only did it because I missed you so unbearably. I needed to feel a man's body. I needed strong lips to kiss me and a heavy body to mount and bear down upon me," I said, confessing all my secrets and believing that he would understand.

He said nothing, but he glared at me, and I felt a shudder running through my body. I felt that he was very angry with me and that I had to do something to earn his pardon.

"Please, Daddy, let's celebrate. Mother's away on a business trip and won't be back until the end of the week. Let's play the game we used to enjoy when I was young and you were always nice to me."

"No games like that, you little cunt. You're to old for such childish things. You've grown way beyond that. I can tell that you've been getting fucked in the cunt, but I'm going to give you something you might not have had before. If it hurts you that's too fucking bad, honey. You deserve some punishment for your wanton ways."

My Daddy's voice was angry. He roared with fury and he frightened me. From his words I inferred that he planned to stick his cock in my ass and fuck it, and I did not mind the idea at all. Although my Daddy's cock was enormous and my little shithole was virgin and tight, I shuddered in delicious anticipation, knowing that I would give my father great pleasure after his long and unfair confinement in prison, and I knew that he would give me pleasure by treating me to a thrill I had not yet experienced. Although many men had wanted to fuck me in the asshole, I had always refused. I was very curious as to how it would compare to being fucked in the pussy, but I had denied myself the novelty. I suppose that I had kept my asshole virgin so that I could save at least one hole for Daddy. It would be fresh and tight for him, and my anal walls would squeeze his cock, embracing him wonderfully in my fragrant and moist friction.

But I did not like the way Daddy was going about it. He unbuckled his belt and drew it quickly from his trousers.

He pushed me out of his warm musky lap, making me kneel on the floor between his legs. I saw the powerful muscles of his thighs bulging through the fabric of his pants.

Wielding his belt in his hands, he began to whip my shoulders and breasts with the mean leather, and I felt my flesh stinging with each repeated blow.

I cried out in pain but he did not care how much he was hurting me. He kept whipping me without mercy.

"Take off your slutty clothes and show me what a naked whore looks like," he demanded.

However much I disliked the whipping, I did not mind taking off my clothes and showing him my darling nudity. I wished that he would not call me dirty names, but if it added to his excitement I did not mind. I wanted him to have the time of his life in my tight hot little asshole. I wanted him to be hot and burn me alive with his scalding sperm load.

I removed my slinky halter top and let my little boobies bounce free. I could feel my father's eyes upon them, and I knew that he was devouring them with his eyes, as though his eyes were his tongue. He licked the sight he adored.

Then I stripped out of my tight and very short little skirt, thrilling my Daddy with the naughtiness of my naked beaver, which I seldom confined in panties.

"Cunt," my daddy growled, "you go around with nothing underneath that immodest skirt that barely covers your box! That is shameless beyond belief. I will have to give you even rougher punishment than I had planned."

I felt juices flowing in the gooey gutter between my legs. My pussy was dripping, oozing cunny nectars and stud seed. Mixed juices of sex trickled down my soft thighs.

My asshole was moist with the lubrication of natural excitement. I wanted my Daddy's cock to plunge in and fuck me

"Lie down on the floor. Press your beaver on the rug!" Daddy commanded.

I thrilled to the bellowing sound of his authority. Gladly, I did exactly as I was told. I lay down on my stomach, feeling the texture of the carpet against my mossy beaver.

My shirtless father stood over me and stuck his shoe between my delicate thighs. I could feel the toe of his leather just barely touching my asshole, and when he pried by legs far apart I thought I would melt into a puddle of white chocolate.

My Daddy was going to fuck my hot cherry asshole with his huge fuck pole, and I wanted it more than anything in the world.

But he struck me with his belt, whipping my white naked flesh. I could feel the burning sting on my sensitive skin, and tiny pink welts began to rise where he had lacerated me.

I heard the music of his zipper, the quick snarling sibilance that made me dance. I writhed eagerly on the floor, grinding my beaver against the carpet, yearning for Daddy's dick in my asshole.

He lowered his body, straddling my spread legs. He did not remove his trousers, but only pulled his pulsing prick and his heavy meatballs out of his fly, and I could feel the fabric of his pants pressing against my naked thighs.

Daddy's big balls rubbed against my tender asscheeks and his thick long cock pressed into the crack of my buttocks and felt good on the small of my back and my spine. I could feel that it was hard and ready.

Daddy became impatient. He slid his long hard cock down my asscrack, toward the hole itself.

He poked my puckering opening with the fat head of his stiff fucking iron. Shocks of pain rattled through my astonished flesh, confusing my pleasure.

"You're going to get it, bitch! I'm going to fuck your asshole harder than you have ever been fucked. You're going to be sorry for becoming such a little slut while I was away."

He meant it, Doctor. He wasn't playing. I knew that I was in for some serious sodomy.

All at once he rammed his monstrous weapon into my virgin territory. My tight little asshole suffered the brutality of his violent invasion. He pushed hard into my flesh, conquering my wilderness by force. I had never felt such mutilating pain.

Daddy banged his hard cock into me, tearing the delicate tissues of my shit ditch. I felt his cock ripping my poor little hole apart, and even though I had wanted it so badly I cried out in torment, pleading with him to stop.

He would not stop. He would not even be gentle. He forced and shoved and plunged his cock into my wounded little hole, until I felt the rim of my ass wrap around the root of his long, thick tool.

The base of his mighty cock throbbed in my tight ass, and his balls pressed against my tender buttocks, thrilling my cheeks with their heavy hardness despite the agony of my asshole, which spread throughout my entire body.

Daddy was all the way in my hole and gradually I felt my body adjusting to his domination. The burden of his bulk pressing down on my body became less of a bane, more of bliss. My hole seemed to expand, growing around the broad diameter of his rod.

His sudden occupation of my asshole had been brutal and painful at first, but as he moved back and forth I felt my muscles relax slightly, and I surrendered myself to the joy of being masterfully fucked by my big strong daddy.

He hammered his iron meat in and out of my hole, thrilling my tissues. He pulled out in long strokes and then rammed back into me, thrusting to the left, then to the south. My asshole became a universe of its own, and my daddy's huge prick made me aware of its many dimensions.

I felt the big head of his cock pressing to the east and west of my anal world, and as the head moved inward I felt my warm luscious lining embracing every inch of his mighty meaty column.

He humped me hard, banging my asshole with the bludgeoning power of his rod. I had never been fucked so hard, so powerfully or so wonderfully well. My father was the best man in the world.

He thrilled me to peaks of ecstasy, and I felt my clit burning against the carpet as his mighty thrusts made my bush grind into the woolly texture. I was dripping from my cunt, pussy nectar pouring from the opening, which my father slapped with his heavy balls each time he pounded his cock into my ass.

I knew my pussy flow was dripping from my daddy's balls, coating them with slippery ambrosia, as his magnificent cock fucked my asshole.

I began to moan in pleasure, sighing and squealing with the delight of being supremely fucked.

Daddy groaned and growled, thrilling me even more with loud volume of his bestial chant.

We thrashed on the floor, my body undulating under Daddy's ferocious humping, twitching and writhing in pleasure, our orgasms building to our united zenith.

Then I felt Daddy's great splash blast into my asshole, and I contracted my sphincter muscles, squeezing his huge cock as hard as I could, making his orgasm the best in his life.

His load jetted into me, filling my hole with his hot scalding potency, burning my ass with his masculine fury.

Then I came. The feeling of his hot sperm searing my asshole gave my clit the final and devastasting thrill. I exploded between my legs, orgasm sparkling in my cunt and clit, and my asshole full of Daddy's great dick.

When Daddy pulled out my asshole I felt a sorrowful loss. I wanted him to stay buried in my body forever.

I was' surprised to see anger on his face. He glared at me with cruelty. I could not understand. It was terrible, Doctor. After the magnificent buttfuck my Daddy was still cross with me.

But he said nothing that night. He waited a few days to give me the punishment he had planned for me. It is the worst experience of my life.

INTERVIEW TWO

When she had finished describing her father's brutal sodomization of her young body, Terry became highly distressed. I could see her body trembling as she prepared to continue her narrative. Our hour was almost up and I thought it unwise for us to continue when Terry was overwrought and we had so little time to get to the bottom of the trauma.

We scheduled an appointment for the following week. Terry appeared on time, dressed and groomed in a different fashion. Her braids had been changed in favor of a more mature and glamorous coiffure, and she had adorned herself with cosmetics. She did not, however, look at all vampy. She was chic and elegant and altogether dazzling. Here is the unedited transcript of our second interview.

You were right to stop our first session where you did, Doctor. I am grateful to you, for the lapse has given me some time to assess matters. I realize that I might have over-reacted to my father's cruelty, although I remain wounded and emotionally scarred by the event.

Despite my attempts at further intimacy, Daddy stayed away from me for a few days, ignoring me. It was as though nothing had happened. I felt miserable. I both resented him and yearned for him.

On Friday Mother called to say she would be delayed three more days. In a way I was even awaiting her return, because there was so much tension between Daddy and me.

On Saturday Daddy stayed home watching an endless football game on television. He was glued to the chair and would not get up even during a commercial, because he did not want to miss a moment of the game. He made me make popcorn and bring it to him, and he drank beer after beer, which I had to fetch and carry for him. I remember that we had a full six-pack and that Daddy went through it in an hour. He made me go out and buy another, and he drank that too. He had consumed gallons of beer and had not left the chair to take a piss.

Finally, the game ended. Daddy had been rooting or the team that lost, and he was pissed off and piss ass drunk. All day he had sat around, shirtless in the chair, scratching his big hairy chest, draining can after can of beer, and belching obscenely.

When he went to the bathroom I assumed that he would be in there for at least an hour taking the leak of all time.

I went into my bedroom to masturbate. I had put on fresh sheets that morning. I loved the feeling of fresh linen on my naked flesh. It always increased the pleasure of my self induced cums.

I stripped and threw myself on the bed, getting my long fingers to work, digging into my wet cunny and stroking my heavenly clit.

I was hot and panting when Daddy opened the door, which I had neglected to lock. I saw his huge chest and the bulge between his legs, but I did not have time to enjoy the sight of them.

My daddy had caught me jerking off, which embarrassed me dreadfully, but my embarrassment turned to horror when I saw what he had in his hand.

You won't believe it, Doctor. My father had come into my bedroom carrying a disgusting enema bag.

I knew that he was going to submit me to the most appalling humiliation. He was going to give me an enema, right in my pink bedroom, on my fresh linen sheets.

My father came into my bedroom and shut the door behind him. I saw the hard hairy muscles ripple menacingly on his shirtless chest.

"The other night you enjoyed that fuck too much, cunt. You took my cock like a whore and absorbed my cum in your asshole like a sponge. You obviously need harsher discipline. This time I have to give you something your slutty body won't like as much. You're going to get an enema." Daddy leered at me, hovering over my naked body.

"No, Daddy! You can fuck me as much as you like, and as hard as you please, but don't, I beg you, don't give me an enema." I whimpered, imploring him to spare me this vile humiliation.

"An enema is the least you deserve, slut! Christ, this is too much! I caught you clawing your cunt and frigging your clit. How do you think a man feels having a sick nympho slut for a daughter. Maybe an enema will make you mend your ways. Get me a pair of stockings."

I could not understand why Daddy ordered me to fetch a pair of stockings. What did he want with them. Nor could I understand why the enema bag was empty. What was he going to shoot into my body, what vile liquid?

Daddy seized my arm and pulled my naked body from my bed. He slapped his hand on my soft buttocks, pushing me toward the dresser where I kept my nylon stockings.

Reluctantly I withdrew a pair and walked shyly back to the bed, covering my beaver in my hands.

"Don't bother to protect your cunt. It isn't your pussy I'm going to assault. You should be so lucky!" He hissed.

The muscles of his great chest flexed, threatening me with his brutal power.

Daddy pushed me forcefully back onto the bed.

"Lie on your stomach and spread your legs!" Daddy ordered.

I did as I was told, too frightened to resist, and knowing that my struggle would be futile. I felt the fresh sheets on my skin and I pressed my belly to the bed. The clean linen soothed my nipples, which ached with lust from the delicious masturbation that had been so rudely interrupted, without even the simple courtesy of a knock on the door. There are simply too many ill mannered and inelegant people in the world, and I fear that my hirsute, and simian father is one of them.

Daddy seized my wrists and tied them quickly in hard nylon knots. I felt the fabric on my skin, cutting into my flesh abrasively.

He stretched the nylon stocking that bound my wrists together and tied the end of it to the legs of a heavy dresser by my bedside.

I was helplessly bound. On the top of the dressed to which my hands were tied was an electric lamp and a fish bowl.

I watched the two goldfish swimming in the stagnant water, which for days I had neglected to change. The poor little fish, I thought, as Daddy tightened the knot of the nylon stocking around the leg of the dresser.

Then he did a sinister thing. He turned on the electric light, flooding my naked flesh with the harsh light of the bulb. He moved the lamp closer to the edge of the dresser, so that it shone the brighter on my bound body. The light was very close to the fish bowl, and I knew that if I caused too much commotion on the bed I would cause the dresser to topple over. The lamp and the bowl of stagnant water were positioned so that they would fall on my body and electrocute me if I made too much movement.

I would have to use all the control I could command to come out of this dreadful discipline alive.

I assumed that Daddy had planned to fill the enema bag with the stagnant water in the goldfish bowl. But he had an even fouler plan in his fiendish mind.

First he taunted me with the enema bag, spanking my ass with the long rubber hose and pressing the big rubber bag against my asscrack.

I detested the feeling of the enema rubbing against my naked flesh. Daddy unscrewed the hose from the opening of the enema bag, taking care to make me watch the heinous procedure. .

Imagine my utter horror, Doctor, when he unzipped his fly and pulled out his enormously swollen prick.

He held it in his hands and toward the opening of the enema bag. He did not insert the head of his cock in the neck of the bag, because his circumference was too great to fit in.

The head of his cock was one inch from the opening of the rubber enema bag, and I watched in horror as he began to piss into it.

"Daddy, my God, what are you doing!!" I screamed, my mind recoiling in revulsion.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm pissing into the enema bag. I'm pissing all the beer I drank today into this bag so I can squirt my hot urine up your asshole. I went through hell saving all this piss up for you. My bladder's been killing me all day. Shit, this feels great! I've never had to take a piss so badly in my life." My father leered at me, holding his piss-swollen prick in his fist and releasing all the steaming urine into the enema bag.

I was too appalled to speak. I lay on the bed, bound in nylon and paralyzed with repulsion. I could see that gush of my father's piss pouring from his fat cock directly into the enema bag.

I thought he would piss forever. The yellow liquid kept gushing from his cock, steaming, and I could hear it splashing into the enema bag.

I watched as the bag swelled with the load of my father's urine. I could smell the acrid odor of it, and the bag kept getting fuller and bigger.

Horror and disgust and fear flooded into my body, as my father's piss kept gushing out of his cock into the rubber bag.

My father groaned animalistically, feeling the relief of releasing his piss load, freeing his bladder of the unbearable tension. It was terribly cruel. He was relieving himself and was preparing to shoot all his piss into my body, giving me more unbearable pressure and discomfort than he had felt.

Believe it or not, Doctor, my father filled the enema bag with his torrential piss load. How he had saved it up all day I will never know. Finally the incessant flow ceased gushing from the obscene fountain of his phallic hose, and I saw the enema bag, stretched, bloated, a great global bulb of torment.

"Damn you, Daddy, don't you dare degrade me this dreadful way. This is obscene. It's disgusting. I'm going to be sick, I know it. I going to puke if you do this to me, Daddy!" I screamed, begging for mercy.

"Shut your cock-sucking mouth. You're going to get what you have coming to you."

My father lurched forward and climbed onto the bed. He straddled my naked thighs and pressed the tip of the enema nozzle against my puckering anus.

I tried to clamp my sphincter muscles together, to make my ass inpenetrable, but my father forced the vile plastic nozzle into my hole.

I struggled but I was helplessly bound by the nylon stocking, at which I did not dare tug for fear of electrocution, and by the weight of my daddy's bulk upon my body.

Daddy stood up on the bed, one foot pressing against the sheet, getting the clean linen dirty with his shoes, and the other pressing against the small of my back. I was in severe discomfort.

Holding the enema bag high above my bound body to allow for the maximum flow of gravity. Daddy released the catch on the long rubber hose.

I felt the first flow of Daddy's disgusting hot urine enter my asshole. Then it began to seep into the depths of my bound, suffering body, and more and more piss flowed from the enema.

Doctor, it was unbearably foul. Daddy's piss was hot and acidic. I could feel it gushing into my body, stretching my bowels, filling my stomach and burning my viscera. My guts began to ache, and my body writhed in torment, feeling the rush of my father's urine into my degraded depths.

The flow of Daddy's piss seemed to be endless. I looked up in horror and saw that the vile bag was still half full of my father's hot piss. It flooded obscenely into my body and I felt the heat of it. I could smell it as it filled to a bursting point and, without relent, kept filling me, more and more, bloating me until I thought I would burst.

I'm sure that I could feel the fizzing foam of my Daddy's carbonated piss as it sprayed forcefully from the nozzle and struck against the soft tissues of my ass before cascading hideously into my guts.

Finally, the enema bag was empty. My father had blasted all his hot piss into me, and my belly was full of it. It was as though I were pregnant with some obscene freak. No, not one unwanted child, but quintuplet monsters. They sloshed around, not only in my womb, but in every inch of my body. They were hot and salty and vile.

My father pressed his shoe into the small of my back, exerting terrible pressure, pushing my swollen belly against the sheet.

I moaned and writhed in torment. But I dared not move drastically, lest the lamp and fishbowl topple over onto my bound body and kill me.

The pressure of all my father's piss against my bowels, my bladder, my stomach was horrendous. I felt that I was full of hateful spirits. The urgent need to piss and shit and explode possessed my consciousness. I could think of nothing but running to the toilet and purging my body of all the liquid evil.

I could feel my father's body. His foot pressed against me, and he was shaking the bed as he shook his cock in his hand, beating his meat over my prostrate form.

As Daddy shook the bed, my body shook with him, and the lamp and the goldfish bowl rattled threateningly on the edge of the dresser.

"Stop, Daddy, my God, stop! You could kill me. Don't shake the bed, please! I will die if you continue! Is one orgasm worth my life!!" I shrieked.

"Damn right, cunt!!" my Daddy roared, shaking his cock in his fist.

I could feel the bed shaking and my body shaking and I could hear the goldfish bowl rattling on the wooden surface of the dresser and the lamp rattling against the glass of the bowl.

Terror overwhelmed me, making me almost oblivious to the pressure of urine in my body.

Daddy kept shaking his cock, faster and faster. Harder. He shook his fuck rod violently, and I could hear his heavy breathing.

He pressed his foot so hard into the small of my back that I feared I would release the gallons of piss and all my excrement. I could almost see myself, tied and bound in my stockings, prone on my bed under the weight of my father's masturbating body and wallowing in the obscene discharges of my asshole.

Daddy pounded his meat in his fist and growled with animal pleasure.

Then I felt him lowering his body, squatting over my back, and his hot cum blast splashed against me skin. His sticky sperm was all over my back, and he kept shooting more and more of it on my skin.

"Ahh! FUCK!!" He roared, squirting his last jet upon my bound and prone body.

Daddy rubbed his sperm into my flesh with his hand, rubbing his palm over my back, pressing his thick hot cum into my back.

He squeezed my torso in his thighs, pressing my ribs in his embrace.

Finally, he untied the nylon stockings. I jumped from the bed. At that moment the goldfish bowl toppled from the edge of the dresser and spilled all over the clean sheet.

The poor fish wiggled helplessly on the wet linen.

I ran into the bathroom and collapsed upon the toilet. Everything poured out of me in one hot and hideous gush, all Daddy's piss and all my unmentionable rectal matter.

Can you believe this disgusting tale, Doctor. I warned you that it would not be elegant or amusing. My God, it was appalling. I doubt that I will ever forget it. I know that I shall not. Every time I think of it I shudder with disgust.

How can life be so unsavory, Doctor? How could my daddy have done this vile thing to me?

My parents are now divorced and my father is living in California. He wants me Lo come see him, but I cannot decide if I should go. I am terrified that he will want to re-enact the odious scene. I am terrified of getting another enema, Doctor. Tell me what I snould do.