At Daddy's Mercy

At Daddy's mercy, beck and call part 1

By: Cecilita

All rights owned by Cecilita

First: Hi I'm Cecilita and I'm a member in (SUBLIGAN = SUBGANG) a group of sub girls who meet the first Tuesday in every month in the Southern part of Sweden. At those meetings one of us is reporting a newly happened or and old event for the others to enjoy, be thrilled or warned by. We can't tell if the stories are true or hope-to-be, we love them all the same.
I have been voted to be recording clerk and keep something between protocols and notes (it has now reached close upon 100 whole stories).
One of the members told us that she had met a girl with and frightful and dark hiSTORY to tell and suggested that we invited her for a Tuesday meeting. We all felt sorry for the girl.
Take Note: We all take distance from children abuse however about incest there are different views in the group. We invited the girl she meant.

The event in this story is bad and strongly wrong but it is initially told anyway as a warning and a contribution to the children's right discussions.

***

Diane is Danish girl, 24 y o, 170 cm (5 feet 11 inch) long, rather thin, with a very nice long, curly and Viking blond hair. She has a nice elliptical face, blue eyes and full lips that got my envy. She is obviously not THAT mentally damaged as one should believe but she is very shy and has obvious lack self-confidence. Her shyness is so bad that we had difficulty to make her stand up in front of us to tell her story. In the beginning of it she sat on her place among us.

Now days she has a caring Master (Father is dead) and love the life of a slave girl but in a childish way.
She still reacts on a whistle signals in the same way she is taught. Good for her Master.
The differences between Swedish and Danish is thin so she spoke Danish but sometime she stopped for a small explanation.

In order to let you read it and as the recording clerk I had to do this poor translation to English. Though my try is perhaps good for you.

BTW: In the group we have decided to protect Diane, who is very verbal but a bit retarded, from external contacts. I'm the filter so if you feel a must you can reach ME by my address: cecilitaSv70@hotmail.com

DIANE.

My background is as dark as my memories of my childhood. And I understand now that I was deprived a normally childhood. Well I did not know that during my raising. Instead I thought it was normal and I felt happy.

Several years later when I understood the society's normal code in this case it was then I also got the mental chock (in between those two worlds) and detected and blew up my damages. So please don't pity me, it make things worse. I felt much happier when I believed that everything was Okay.

You can't choose your father but you must obey him to the letter.
I must stress that during the most of the time all this happened I was in no pain. The suffering came later when I grow up and found out that all he did to me was strongly wrong.
And that I had been misdirected in my childish blamelessness and luck of experience.
As a child I must be able to trust in the values my Daddy is giving me.

You see my father was not a good human being, probably caused by his own childhood. The Hell he was raised through he transferred to me as if the original sin was true. It went to be a reality for me, any way.

It all began slowly and I grow into it. As all children are, I was at my Daddy's mercy from the very beginning to the end. He raised me, formed me and gave me my thoughts and references and codex and he reduced my will. Children have no ability to choose there parents and have only to accept the pair they got.

Though all the efforts I've always loved my Daddy. He was the only Daddy I knew. I felt some kind of mixture between respect and fear for him. As a little girl I was always completely disconsolate when he was angry or displeased with me. So I had always better to just obey him and don't think or value anything by myself. Then he was happy and I was happy with him.

My mother has been sick as long as I know and she was moving in and out of hospitals.

I had always to attend my daddy in alls his demands. His demands went sexually after my 15th birthday.

Before I must prepare and serve him breakfast, lunch and dinner. He had a dressmaker to made a Maid uniform for me on the pretext of that it was for a fancy dress ball.
Afterwards he shortened the skirt simply by simply using a scissors. You could easily see my underpants. In this very short dress I had to wait on him at his table when he ate. I had always to eat before or after. During my waiting on him I must stand in attention at the other side of the table so he could look at me. All this was a game for me even though I not always liked it. Children love games especially when the adults play with them. He steered my by giving me encourage and extol.

He called me his Assistant and that was something nice and fine. So I run to get things for him what ever he needed. I also quickly learned the name of all his tools in his repair shop.
I don't know if I mentioned it but running was a must and I could se how our dog running when we called him so it must be natural to run when you know you someone is waiting for you.

I was Daddy's good girl and I was so proud of it.

**

When I later went fifteen I had to be initiated to my coming adulthood, he said.
So he started training me in the art of fellatio. It was vital for me to learn that skill, he told me and that I was lucky to have a teacher in him.
Yes, I felt lucky and eager and I obediently learned all the details in this art as he guided me all the way.
I had to practice at a rubber tool at first but he promises me a real thing when he decided that I was ready for it. I remember that I longed as a lunatic for this to happen. I did not know what THE REAL THING was, but it must be something very good as it was promised as a reward.

One week ahead he told me that if I practiced very much at the rubber tool he thought I was ready and that I should get the real thing at next Saturday.

I counted the hours until Saturday.

I remember I was a bit surprised when I found out that he had had the real thing in his pants all the time. When he open up and let it out it was like Christmas day.

I was lean and warm and pulsating and hard. It was as a part of Daddy, in same way glued to him at his crotch.

In this time I was perhaps mentally blocked out by him but I don't think I was slow in my thoughts though. Later I sadly found out that I was a bit retarded and not just a bit, as you understand.
I was not allowed to mingle too much with the girls in my class. Not the boys either. He had ordered me to go directly home from school every day. As the obedient girl I was I did so.

He had during all my life implanted his thoughts in my head and I love my Daddy.

I was eager to learn every detail he taught me and made everything to make him happy and he said that I also had to learn how to make my future husband much happier with me.

He stressed that was a very hard thing to do called “Deep Throat” and that was the ultimate performance to learn.

So I was lying on my stomach sideways in the sofa with him sitting in it and had my mouth wide open over his manhood and I had learn to try to open up my throat as well.
I must take his tool all the way down my throat and he teaches me how to swallow it down.

To help me get it down there he hit my bottom with the birch rod and when I open up more to cry out he pressed my head down over it. And it went, all the way down.

The first time was worse. Next time I did the down press my self when he hit my buttocks. That was repeated four or five time until I asked of him to let me do it myself, without his help with the birch rod.

I desperate fear of the birch rods sting I pressed my mouth over his demanding tool and succeeded.

Next step for me to learn was to make swallowing movement with my throat to massage his tool head down there. I learned to do it first 5-6 times before drawing my breath and later more and more times.

I remember that I was disappointed when he let out my reward dose deep down there but I learn to taste it when I cleaned him with my lips and tongue afterwards. Still I long for my reward dose of sperm and beg him to let me release it in my mouth from time to time. My request was granted and I was happy again.

I quickly learn how to deep throat him when ever he wanted to and remembered to massage him with my throat every time, now up to 60 times. I can recall that he told me that my massaging throat sucked him down there. I nodded but I didn't understand what he meant with it.

When I, after three months, had passed his finely art-of-fellatio-test I got a new everyday duty to perform and carry out.

I must every morning sneak into his bedroom, get under his comforter from the foot side and wake him up by my mouth and strictly remember every detail he had taught me to do. I loved it when he praised me and I could not find any limit in my strain to make him happy with my performance.
He asked for more and more before he gave me he acknowledge and I strived more and more to get it.

In the early training with the real thing he had assumed that I swallowed his deposit and he told me so just before it gushed out from it.
In the beginning I didn't know what it was but he had prepared me that something was to be sprayed out and ensured me that it tasted so GOOD. My manipulated brain gives him right. It tasted good and I soon started to grow strong needs for it.

I remember him often sitting at my bed when I was going to sleep and he talked calm to me and corrected my thoughts and told me how to think and what to wish for and what was nice tasting or not. All with the result that I was very happy in my world and I felt very good when my thoughts were right (his way).

I longed for him to spray it in my mouth.
My brain told me so and I felt very proud that he would give it to me and I could understand that I must work hard for it and prove to deserve it.

I think he every other time alternately used my throat and my mouth cavity. Sometimes when he hit my skull I had to quickly raise it from my throat and up to my oral cavity and collect his deposit. That was Heaven.

After I had drained him I must keep up my good work by slowly suckle it and handle it with my tongue until he told me to stop and then I felt often disappointed as when you take the pacifier from a baby.

Here after (in the morning) I had to hurry to the kitchen and prepare his breakfast and stand ready to wait on him at the table. I had grown out of the small maid uniform and was to be naked instead and standing with my hands behind my neck and my feet apart. When he was within one arm length from me I must also stand tip toes and with my mouth open and inviting for him (as he said) and with my tongue sticking out of my mouth and resting on my lower lip.

He very often took hold of my pictorial offer and let me crawled under the table and gives him my morning mouth again. My manipulated brain took it as an honour and I did my very best to make it good for him in my brain twisted gratitude.

He increased the order of my tongue position out of my mouth pose to that I also had move my tongue forth and back invitingly for him. Reminding and suggesting him what it could do for him and at his manhood tool.

Very early in my life I had had to learn how to receive spanking without screaming. He started to teach me that when I was a very little girl. I had to just lie still over his knees with my bare bottom up and receive one blow after and other from his hand or birch twigs, that I myself had got from the trees outside. One of my standing tasks from 8 y o and forwards was to cut and prepare a bunch of birch twigs to be standing in a vase in the living room every day except when mother was home because she was too ill to stand my “Ouch!” and “Ow!”, he said. Though he quickly reduces my “Ouch!” and “Ow!” to a noiseless receiving the blows without any other sound than loudly keep counting and thank him for training me. I really wanted to be as he wanted me to.

He also very early trained my at his special whistle signal in his calling for me. When I heard it around the house I must run, really run, to him and stand in the order position (with my hands behind my neck, feet apart, stand tip toes and with an open and inviting mouth and tongue out).

With me in this position he then decides for me what to do for him. It was always the same order so to save time I could as well go down on my knees in front of him and start sucking him.

But that was not allowed. He was the one to decide so I must wait for him to give me the same order every time. I must also, during the sucking, with my right hand gently handle his scrotum.
When I had swallowed his deposit I must clean him with my tongue and lips and then keep stimulating him with my tongue and lips until he ordered me to stop and go on with my ordinary duties. I must confess that my confused mind liked this so much that I long for his next whistle signal. I could feel in my whole body that he was pleased with me during these occasions and that helped me go on.

From time to time I imagine I've heard his whistle signal so I come running for him without him giving the signal. Sometimes he than looked at my mouth and ordered me to service him.

Encouraged of this I started to try to steer the events by on my own initiative run to him and put my body in the order position and wait for he to give the order. This was my way to show him that I wanted to have my dose of sperm, even if I didn't know in the beginning that it was sperm (possible brothers and sisters) that was injected in my mouth.

I was in the beginning so amazed by this so good tasting liquid that men had to spray in a girl's mouth. My childish mind found it logical that a man had this reward to give to a girl when she had properly learned to be efficient in her stimulating of the man's thing, as my daddy said.

But the main thing for him was that when ever he wanted my now well trained mouth he just had to whistle for me and I come running. This running thing he had very sharply demanded and when ever he thought that I didn't run fast enough I had to run back to my starting point and wait for him to call me again. Very often, before this repetition, he had me to take of my panties and bend over his lap or bend forwards and hold the palms of my hand flat on the floor and he spanked me hard to encourage me to a faster run.

As I said before, I loved my Daddy and I gladly run faster and faster for him. I was overwhelmingly depressed when he was unpleased with me.

So my leading star in life was to do anything in my power to make him happy with me. To any cost for me.

When I pleased him with my mouth I felt it was much more exciting for me than for him. I simply loved to do it.

I will continue with next part if you find it interesting.
Other ways never mind me!

Cecilita.