But she saw something in me, something that no-one else had seen before. She took me into her house, offered me shelter, offered me a job, offered me a place in the world.At first, I pushed her away, I resisted her attempts to mould me into the girl that she wanted. And, when I did, she wouldn't respond with anger, simply disappointment. There were no punishments in those early days, save for her disdain. That stung more than any spanking ever could.But even the sharpest rock in the fastest river becomes smooth with time, and so it was with me. Fear of rebuke, desire for complements, a Pavlovian response that gradually eroded the rough edges of my former self.In time, I took her uniform, never questioning how fussy it was, how feminine it looked, how utterly impractical it seemed for a menial servant, designed more for visual appeal than hard work.With dwindling resistance, I performed the duties she asked of me, following her willingly down a road that became more intimate with. “P-please” I stuttered out of breath, “stop”. He then picked me up by the legs and positioned me above his penis, he turned so I could see myself in the mirror, I looked quickly at my tits bouncing outside my shirt, my pussy dripping wet with a small tuff of blonde hair atop it, and my panties around my left ankle. But quickly my attention is driven to my father’s penis, 12 inches and as thick as a coke can rubbing against my pussy. “Daddy, that’s not going to fit, it’s going to kill me!”“No” smiled my dad as he slowly kissed my neck, “it’s going to make you a woman” and he pulls me onto his penis. The pain was intense as he ripped through my hymen and I let out a scream as tears streamed down my face. “Ahhh, that’s good” he yelled in my ear as he thrust the hole 12 inches into me. My first time was with my daddy, I felt him lift me up a bit higher and start pumping, in and out, in and out. I looked through my tears into the mirror and saw blood pouring down his dick. I felt like I.
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