Bad Memory

    Daddy didn’t tell me the first time he roofied me. In fact, he may not have told me the first few times he roofied me, but it didn’t matter, I was asleep anyway.

    He told me he had put it in my drink, he had me drink piss, and I was used to the salty taste. I vaguely remember sitting with daddy, then waking up in bed. But something had happened in between that time, and I didn’t know what.

    Daddy was already awake, I was being a lazy whore, but I was groggy and confused, and almost immediately alarmed; I ran to the bathroom.

    I had cum covering my hair, dried onto my face and body, caked onto my pussy and asshole, dried on my legs. There was writing on my body, my arms and legs, my cunt and assheeks, written in sharpie and lipstick. It looked like I had taken quite a lashing too, there were paddle marks all over my tits and legs, and I had a black eye beginning to swell. I ran out to the living room where daddy was sitting and reading.

    “Daddy what happened to me?” My voice was shaking, tears were beginning to spill down the corners of my eyes. Daddy looked up and seemed confused, cocked his head.

    “What are you talking about princess?” He asked me, seemingly concerned with my mental state. “You look a little messy, but nothing is wrong, why are you scaring me like this?” He reprimanded me with a stern look and went back to his reading. I was crying silently, my tears making the cum on my face sticky again.

    “B-bbbb- bbbut daddy-“ I blubbered out, but he wasn’t in the mood this morning.

    “Look, you’ve already slept in, and now you’re going off about something crazy. We had dinner and went to sleep last night, I don’t know what you’re so upset about. Go wash yourself off and go cook me breakfast, I’m starving.” He had turned back to his reading.

    I stumbled into the bathroom, allowing myself to sob now, tired, dizzy, feeling hungover and confused. WHORE was written in sharpie across my forehead, and it wouldn’t scrub out. PUNCH ME was written above one tit, and there was a bullseye around my bellybutton, in red lipstick. I crawled into the shower and tried to calm myself, tried to scrub the cum and spit and writing from my body.

    I tried to remember what happened after dinner, I tried so hard to recall any detail of what got me face down on the bed covered in bodily fluids and words of humiliation, but I just couldn’t. When I mentioned it to daddy, he always told me something about girl brains not being very good, and our memory got a bit fuzzy sometimes, but not to worry. Daddy would make sure I was taken care of.

    “If you weren’t so stupid, you wouldn’t get hurt so much”

    “if you had a better memory, you’d be a better fucktoy”

    “it’s not my fault it hurts, its your body’s”

    “i’m not making you cry, you’re crying because you’re a stupid baby”

    “I wouldn’t fuck other women if you were a better whore”

    “if you weren’t such a baby you wouldn’t pass out when i roofie you”

    “if you were a big girl, you could take my friends at parties without crying”

    “if you were skinnier i would fuck you more”

    daddy says the most encouraging things!!!