AMANDA’S DIARY by Amandablonde

Feature Writer: Amandablonde

Feature Title: AMANDA’S DIARY

Copyright: This story is copyright Amanda 2003 © please do not reproduce this work without my prior approval as it is close to my heart /

Author’s Notes: This story contains sexual situations that should not be read by anyone who is either not old enough to do so or who would be offended if they did /

 

Amanda’s Diary

Prologue:

For my tenth birthday my father Alexander gave me a diary. He told me to write in the diary all the important things that I saw or felt or experienced. It was a wonderful gift for a girl my age but there were times when it felt more like a curse. Now, many decades later, as I look back and read the pages of my diary, I understand that it truly was a gift of a lifetime. That diary is not only a record of all the things that happened to me, but also unlocked a lot of doors to understanding who I really am, and what made me what I am today. There are inner conflicts revealed but also deep and visceral truths. This is the story of what happened to me and my father, and also the story of my inner self laid bare. Dear reader, I hope that when you have read my story, you will have experienced what I did, but also that you will come to have a better understanding of me, and what has and always will drive me.

Chapter one. In the Beginning

I never knew my mother. She died when I was a baby, possibly due to complications of the birth. I was never told. I never saw a single picture of her. She existed for me only as a concept. My father never spoke of her. I don’t think that he hated her. I don’t know whether he loved her. I hope that he did. I do know that he loved me. I had a brother but he was older and had been adopted out before I was born. Again, I don’t know why. I barely saw him and then he left the country for work. So I was the only one in my father’s life. He poured into me all of the love that might normally have been given to other children or his spouse. It was warm and all enveloping. It was also obsessive. As I look back on things now, I can see that. But at the time my father was my world, my life, my protector and my only companion. I loved him with all of my heart and, in his own way, I know he loved me also. But there were consequences.

Most people called my father Alex. We lived a quiet life. Dad didn’t work as far as I can recall so we spent all of our time together. We were poor but not desperately so. Somehow we got by. My earliest memories of my dad are of his cock; the look, feel, smell and the taste of it. Alex’s cock was my pacifier you see. I suckled on it and it gave me comfort and food. Where other babies would have a bottle or a mother’s breast, I had my dad’s penis. I know that is weird now, although at the time I knew no different.

I always shared my father’s bed and each night I would suckle on his cock before I went to sleep. If I woke during the night he would place his cock between my lips to soothe me. I could barely take more than the bulbous head but that was enough. The sucking reflex of my mouth brought him off in a few minutes at most and my little mouth filled with his semen. That was mother’s milk to me. Literally so. I think in those early years it kept me alive. Semen is very nutritious I found out and I thrived on it. Dad would feed me during the day with his cock as well. I can remember lying in his arms on the old couch in our run down living room.

He would feed me his cock with one hand as he cradled me with the other, and spoke soothing words to me. These were precious moments for me. My little lips and tongue worked on the head of his cock, eager for that spurt of spunk. It tasted salty but not unpleasant, and it was my lifeline, as well as my pacifier and my living bond with my father. I loved it when he came and his semen shot into my mouth. I swallowed greedily, always eager for more. It was obviously enough to sustain me in those early years because I didn’t just survive. I thrived. I moved on to solid foods as I grew of course but I never gave up my daddy’s cock. Now I understand that my sucking gave him pleasure and he made sure that I kept on suckling on him. But I did not know that in the beginning. In the beginning I was totally innocent. Sometimes I wish I could have stayed that way.

I don’t recall exactly when the play began, but it would have been in the mid sixties. I now understand that it was sex play but I just thought of it as play back then. It involved a lot of touching and stroking while looking at books and magazines and later, watching movies. Dad bought Playboy and Hustler and showed me the pictures as he touched me. He encouraged me to touch him too. As things progressed there were other more hard core magazines as well, especially from Sweden, Holland and Germany.

I recall distinctly that he bought Greenleaf Classic novellas as well, which were hard core porn stories with no pictures but graphically illustrated covers. Rape and torture was a constant feature of those books. Dad would have me naked on his lap as we looked at them and he read the written content to me. I remember at this early stage I could not read, but I liked to try to work out what was happening from the pictures. I related to the images of fellatio, as that was second nature to me. It had gone beyond simple feeding and comfort of course and my dad incorporated it into playtime. There was a lot of playtime. It usually ended with dad ejaculating, either in my mouth or over my body as I stroked him. It always seemed like a moment of triumph when my dad came. I think we both thought of it as an act of love, in our own and different ways.

We had very little money but somehow dad got hold of a second hand super eight projector. He had some buddies who were into porn and I think the projector came from one of them. The movies came from one or other of them as well. At first they were grainy and jumpy old black and white films but later on they came in color and were generally better quality. I was school age now and it became a daily event when I got home from school that dad and I would get naked, and he would put on one of his movies.

The movies were better than the books and magazines because all I had to do was watch. I didn’t have to struggle over reading words. The movies were really hard core as well. They were all porn of course but gradually they became more explicit and more violent. Rape was a developing theme of these films and my dad got super excited whenever we were watching a rape flick. Sometimes we were so engaged watching movies that my dad would forget to make dinner. If I ever said I was hungry he would pull me between his legs and tell me to feed on his cock like a good girl. And so I did.

I remember as if it was yesterday when I had my first orgasm. I was naked on my dad’s lap as we watched a movie called “Victory for the Queen”. It was about viking raiders. There was no sound, just moving images. My dad was rubbing my clit as we watched. The Vikings were lead by a beautiful blonde woman, who was the queen. I so much wanted to be her! She lead her warriors silently up from the beach to a nunnery, where the nuns were working in the fields or just relaxing in the sunshine. As the Vikings crept closer the queen raised her sword and cried out some silent command to attack.

The raiders, set upon the nuns, stripped them and proceeded to gang rape them. There were close ups of the Queen’s face as she laughed, smiled and reacted with joy to the suffering of the nuns, many of whom were forced to take multiple cocks in their mouths, cunts and assholes at the same time. The Queen beamed at her men with pride and, looking at one directly, used her sword to point to her pussy under her gown.

The Viking raider, approached, knelt and, as the Queen raised her dress, he began to suck on her pussy. I began to breathe heavily as I watched this. My dad sensed that I was close, and rubbed me harder and faster. I felt pressure building up within me. Then, as I watched my blonde idol throw back her head and force the warrior’s face into her crotch, the dam wall broke and my first orgasm swept over me. My hips bucked under my dad’s fingers as the most wonderful tidal wave of pleasure swept over me. My dad laughed out loud and held me close, calling me a very good girl. I never felt as close to him as in that moment.

Chapter two: The Gift

I had a wonderful tenth birthday. I had lots of friends over from school, and I felt so grown up and important. My dad made a big thing of presenting me with my first diary book, and explained the importance of writing in it things that I saw, or felt. He explained that it was not just to record what happened but also how I felt about what happened. I thought about that. I thought about it a lot. I thought about it that night after my friends had left and dad brought out the projector and a movie we had not seen before. We had been watching more and more rape porn in the months leading up to my birthday.

We masturbated each other as we watched the rapes and we never tired of it. We actually got addicted to it I think now. Night after night watching rape porn with victims sometimes as young as me was having its effect, and I guess taking its toll on our psyche. I had plenty to write about in my diary. I wrote about that night when I went to bed, after my dad had brought me to orgasm watching a girl just like be being gang raped in the dunes behind a beach.

She and her mother had been walking down the beach until they passed a group of boys playing beach volleyball. The boys followed them. The mother and daughter increased their speed but so did the boys. Finally they were running flat out, seeking the safety of the dunes, but the boys caught them. Two boys held the mother and made her watch while the rest stripped the bikini off her daughter and savagely gang raped her over an extended period.

What stuck in my mind was that the mom orgasmed three times as she watched her daughter being raped. The boys made her cum of course like my dad made me but the fact that the mom was open to it and her body betrayed her stuck in my mind. I came as my dad masturbated me hard watching the mom cum the last time. I thought to myself, maybe my mom was like that. Maybe all moms are. I wrote that in my diary.

I decided to write in my diary everything that I could remember about what my dad and I had been doing all this time, from my earliest memory until now. It just about filled the book, and it took me months. I was totally absorbed in my project, and conflicted about it. We were taught at school that rape was wrong and that girls like me should be protected and that we should report being touched like my dad touched me. But I loved my dad. I loved him with all of my heart. How could what we did be wrong? How could my dad be a bad person? I was conflicted and torn. I did not know what to believe anymore. The diary was not only a gift but it seemed also to be a curse, destined to destroy my family of two; my dad and me.

I didn’t report my dad. I couldn’t, but I was deeply conflicted. My diary reflected my dilemma and anguish. Two critical things happened in the coming months that brought matters to a head. The first was that I filled the book. My dad was surprised when I asked him for another.

“Already?” He asked, incredulous.

He had expected the book to last me several years.

“What the hell were you writing about to fill it up so quick?” He demanded.

I couldn’t tell him, and he shouldn’t have asked me to tell, as a diary is supposed to be private. But he found it and I know he read it, because I saw him reading it, with an angry look on his face. He didn’t say anything right away, and he did give me a new diary, as if nothing had happened. But his manner towards me had changed. I heard him talking on the phone one night about me. I couldn’t follow it all but it was like he was doing some kind of deal. That troubled me. We had always been so close, but my dad found the secrets of my mind in my diary, and now he was keeping things from me.

The second thing that happened was that I got my period. My first period. It was a shock to me to see the bleeding. My dad had not prepared me for it. We had been told about it at school but it was still a shock when it happened. I asked my dad what to do.

He smiled at me and said something strange: “so, I guess it’s time”.

Dad bought me some tampons and told me to tell him when the bleeding stopped. It did two days later. He smiled again with a strange look in his eyes. It felt ominous.

Chapter three: the rape

It happened on the following Friday after I got home from school. Once I was in the front door dad locked it and frog marched me into his bedroom. There I saw hand and leg cuffs attached to the four corners of his bed, and some sort of camera on a tripod overlooking the bed. Dad said it was a “video camera”. I had never seen one before but it looked high tech. Dad looked at me hard and told me that it was time I learned the truth about myself and became a real woman.

“You can forget about all that bullshit in your diary,” he said sarcastically, “You are a rape whore you little slut and you are about to see the truth of what I say!”

I was shocked and more than a little afraid. I had never been afraid of my father before, but I was now. He forced me down onto his bed and quickly shackled me to the four cuffs on my wrists and ankles. There I was, spreadeagled on the bed, in my school uniform, like an actor in one of the porn movies we had watched so often. As I watched dad adjust the camera it dawned on me what he had in mind, and he confirmed it for me in words that left no room for doubt.

Dad had decided to move from porn consumption to porn production. He had worked out that being paid to produce porn was a lot better than spending his little money to buy it. He had also decided that I was ideal content for his first video production using the latest technology loaned from a friend, and he intended to rape me for the delight of his intended clients. Dad told me that I would learn to love it and from that point there would be no turning back for me.

Dad gave me no time to consider these propositions. With the camera trained on the bed he leapt onto me with a knife and roughly cut through my school uniform, tearing off my white shirt, red plaid skirt and my baby pink panties. I was still bald underneath and had used the handle of the knife to feel my puffy cunny, telling me that I shouldn’t worry about my uniform, as I would not need it anymore. Dad was going to home school me in future. I guessed that the curriculum would be kind of restricted but there was no time to ponder that now.

My patent black shoes and bobby sox were gone and I lay stark naked and vulnerable beneath him. Dad mauled my body with his big hands, calling me foul names like “slut, whore, cunt and bitch”. I knew he was acting but it still felt like I was really dirty. What bothered me most however was that I kind of liked hearing those names. I rather liked being tied up like this. I could feel my pussy getting wet. I knew I was getting excited whether I wanted to or not.

I tossed my head and struggled, thrashing on the bed and crying out, “NO NO NOOOOO!!!!”

Dad loved that and gave me a good slap of appreciation on my backside.

“That’s it slut!” he snarled at me, “Scream all you want to. Nobody can hear you and nobody will save you. You are mine all night you whore!”

Dad pinned me down with his body weight, and forced my legs apart with his own legs. I felt him rubbing his cock up and down between the lips of my labia majora, getting himself good and hard and making me good and wet. He spat on his hands for effect and rubbed the saliva over his now fully erect cock that I knew so well.

“Are you ready to become a woman little slut?” he asked rhetorically.

Before I could answer he lined up his cock with the entrance to my cunny and suddenly and without warning drove hard into me. I opened up as his huge cock drove into me and tore through my hymen. Then my blood lubricated me even more. I shrieked in pain and thrashed some more, but then the delicious sensations of his cock ramming into me took hold. Pain gave way to pleasure. Pleasure like I had never felt before. Here I was tied up and being filmed as my dad raped me, and I was loving it! I began to push back against him as he thrust into me harder and harder, raising my hips up to meet him as far as I could . I was tossing my head from side to side in bliss now and moaning like a true whore!

My dad laughed and looked down at me as he raped me: “you are loving this you little slut ain’t you, huh, ain’t you? Tell me you are loving it whore!”

He slapped me hard as he rammed into me and I hissed back through my clenched teeth …

“Yes daddy I am loving it! Rape me harder daddy, please rape me harder! I love it daddy I really do!”

I orgasmed at this point and my pussy muscles spasmed around his cock, massaging him as he pounded into me with all of his force. Wow! I thought, this is fantastic! So this is what I have been missing out on! I wanted it to go on for ever! I wanted more! Dad came shortly after this and pumped his seed into me, filling me up until it leaked out down my inner thighs. What a rush that was.

Later on, with the camera put away, I lay naked in the bed with my daddy’s arms around me, and we talked softly and tenderly. I told him that I loved him and that I was sorry for the things I wrote in my diary, expressing my doubts. There were no doubts any more. I was totally dedicated to my dad’s cock once again. Dad kissed me and told me that he had been offered a lot of money for videos of me being raped, so it would be happening a lot from now on. I purred in pleasure and caressed his flaccid cock at this. My dad was right, I was a rape slut, totally corrupted by his training over all of these years. All I wanted now was to have his cock inside me again. I slithered down the bed and took him into my mouth, making him hard again, and then begging him to rape me again.

And so, dear reader that is my story. That is how I became who and what I am. Please do not think badly of me. It was inevitable, given my upbringing. My dad and I remained lovers, and over time he talked me into becoming his accomplice, helping him to kidnap younger girls than me for him to rape in our basement as I filmed it with the video camera. But that, dear readers is a whole other story.