Emily barely noticed the movement of her dad’s fist before it connected with the side of her head, dropping her to the floor in an instant. She laid there, sobbing softly, trying not to throw up as everything spun around her. She feebly pushed herself up before he grabbed her hair and jerked her up to her knees, angling her head towards his face.

In the past, she would have begged, but she knew better these days. Begging only got you hit more, even crying often got you hit more. And since bruises drew attention, he focused them elsewhere. Her chest, her sex, and his favorite, her head. Instead, she did as expected and smiled at him through tear stained eyes, clinging to his leg.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said, and he jerked her head back, spit on her face, but then roughly yet expertly began fingering her. He had told her that he liked the duality of things, abuse and love, pain and lust, violence and cuddling. She believed him. She knew he was right, as he was at most things. He was right about her being a cunt, about her being stupid, about her being broken. She knew he was right because she was wet before he even touched her, despite her head still ringing, soaked. His fingers entered her cunt, his cunt, easily as he kissed her deeply. She tensed her thighs around his hand and then screamed into his mouth as his thumb and finger mashed her clit. Then she was stood up by him, still crushing her bud, before he shoved her hard into her bedroom wall. Her back and head bounced off the drywall, dazed, sliding down before his hand grabbed her throat.

“Mmmm, I love it when your eyes get all glassy you dumb bitch,” her father said, before spinning her around and shoving her face first into the wall. He kicked her legs apart and spit on his hand, shoving two fingers in her ass. Emily grunted but again said nothing. She could barely focus anyway. He was in a hitting mood and it was best just to let him vent. He pulled out his fingers and smeared them on her lips, then shoved his cock in her ass, smashing her against the wall. He pumped vigorously, reaming her tiny body, while hitting the small of her back, her sides. Not enough to bruise, just to hurt.

“Mmmm, I love you spasming on my cock, tighten up more,” he said before slapping her head repeatedly. She started bawling now, scared, as he slammed her harder and harder against the wall. Emily knew what was coming, his new favorite trick, that he loved to do when he was angry. Her ass burned, and then, nothing.

The next thing she knew, she was sliding down the wall as he stood back. She threw up on herself, her head exploding with pain. He’d donkey punched her. She couldn’t focus on anything, just pain and confusion. He stood close and it took her a moment to realize that he was wiping his cock off with her hair. She cried like a baby as he walked out.

A minute, or ten, it was hard for her to tell, he came back in and pushed a pacifier in her mouth. She started sucking on it instantly, holding onto his leg as he told her what a good and brave little girl she was. Still sobbing, a total mess with bloody cum leaking out of her ass and snot on her nose and vomit on her chest, he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. There he drew her a bath and washed her, Emily letting go, only the warm water and the pacifier keeping her grounded.

She watched her dad as he checked her eyes, telling her she was a bit stupider now, that he’d concussed her. She wanted to cry, but instead told him thank you, and he took her head and pulled it to the side of the tub. She sucked on his head like it was her paci, until he started to piss. Holding her mouth open, he pissed on her face, hair, and in her mouth. Then, after swallowing, he held onto her while she showered off. Emily got dressed in a tiny pink nightgown, crawling into bed with her father, where as she held her stuffie and sucked her thumb, he fucked her slowly, gently this time. He stroked her belly when he was done.

“I’m gonna pull you out of school soon, baby girl. We’re gonna homeschool you, I think. Is your head still hurting?” he asked, and Emily nodded back yes, holding tighter to her stuffie.

“Good,” was all he said, caressing the back of her head as he spooned her. And she felt safe in his arms even though she had to get up to throw up once. He was making her better, she knew. He loved her, and she’d let him destroy her. Because she was broken and right where she belonged.