The Bishop, His SLut And A Third Party 1

There was something sick and perverted about Father. The way he looked at me, he’s stares and the extra unnecessary hugs he gave me. I have never begrudged my mother for getting married, I’ve always wanted her to be happy. But I will never understand why she picked him. I don’t know if she feels she can’t do better or if it is for his money. My mother and I used to struggle a lot before she met her husband. He is very rich and I think he uses his money to control her. Many times I have tried to call her attention to the inappropriate touches and hugs he gave me every chance he got, squeezing me inappropriately too long and too close and stares with unholy glimmer in his eyes, but she dismissed me as if I was lying, stupid and didn’t know what I was talking about.

I don’t know who I am, that is to say I`ve never known who my father is, my mother never told me who my father was or where he come from, not even a clue. The only time she speaks of him is when she baths me with insults for just nothing or everything.

 

 

“You are just a useless giri, as useless as your useless father. That bastard broke my heart just because his family rejected me. Why did you have to be his carbon copy? You look more and more like him everyday. You are a constant reminder of that idiot. You will not amount to anything in life you good for nothing.”

 

 

Remember when I said I didn’t have a clue? Scratch that. From the things she says in-between her verbal abuses, I know that I look exactly like my father. So one day, I’m just going to search for a man who looks exactly like me but where am I going to begin the search from? She never mentions where he comes from or even his name. I wish I can find him to protect me from this evil pervert I am forced to live with. I wish I can run away, but I have no where else to go. My mother is the only family I have, her relatives don’t like me either, none of them would want to take me in. Besides, how am I sure my life with them will be any better. The only good thing she has ever done for me was agreeing to send me to the boarding house when it was time for me to go to high school. It didn’t take a lot of convincing because I knew she was eager to get me out of her sight. I was also eager to leave the house when I was 10years old because I could nolonger stand my father. His exploitation of me didn’t stop at his ogling or his words, his hands started to wander and I found myself more and more often fighting his hands off me. He would pat my knee and leave his hand a fraction too long, he would stroke my hair, slap my bum, anything, as long as it meant him getting his hands on me, touching and groping me.

I have a younger sister and a brother. My mother had them in her marriage, she loves them like crazy and I am practically a slave to them. If not that I call my mother and her husband ‘Mother and Father’, I bet my siblings wouldn’t know that we are even related. Father made me do a lot of things right from when I was 8 years, from asking me to bring him a towel (which he will deliberately forget) to the bathroom after he’s done bathing. He wouldn’t even cover up when I knock and he asks me to go in and bring him the towel, on many occasions, I got an eyeful of his dick, I was so embarrassed each time but he didn’t care. I will cover my eyes as I hand him the towel. To his faking to have hit his knee and asking me to massage it for him with an ointment. Each time he made me massage him, he will moan. I didn’t get it then, but I get it now. Something about the way his narrow eyes tended to linger a little too long on my breasts creeps me out. And every time I told my mother, she wouldn’t believe me. Everything he did tired me out, I have had to be on my guard whenever I came home from the boarding house. And if he did not do anything or say anything I would always be weary about what would happen the next time we bumped into eachother. I slept in the same room with my sister for many ears and ow that I have turned 18, father’s birthday present to me was my own room. He had one of the spare rooms decorated for me. They both said that since I have officially become a woman, I deserve my own room and privacy. I wasn’t happy about it, I like sleeping in the same room with my sister. Though I slept on a smaller bed, but I felt safer being in the same room with her. This new room they have given me was downstairs, a bit too far from where everyone else slept.

 

 

“Mother, I don’t like this room. I don’t need privacy, to do what with it?  Can I keep sleeping with Tonia?”

 

 

“Blessing you are so Ungrateful. My husband gave you that room just to make you happy, and you want to give him a bad name indirectly? You are just a curse.”

 

 

“But mother, I didn’t say anything bad, I am just scared to sleep alone.”

 

 

“Shut up! You useless wretch. Left for me, you won’t even have a room under my roof. You don’t deserve it after all the lies you have told me about my husband.”

 

 

“I’ve never lied against him Mother, I’m honest. He touches me and makes passes at me. He even shows me his nakedness deliberately.”

 

 

“Oh keep quiet you ingrate. I’m sure you are The one seducing my husband with your round backside and firm boobs. You think you can fool me, you husband snatcher. You want to divide us so you can win right? You think I’m stupid?”

 

 

“What? Mother!”

 

 

“Get out of my site idiot. If you don’t like the room, go and sleep outside. I won’t let you keep staying close to my daughter so you don’t corrupt her, you sick twisted bitch.”

 

 

“Mother, I am your daughter too.”

 

 

“And that’s a mistake I will regret for the rest of my life. Now get out of my site.”

 

 

My mother’s words to me tonight was so cold. I am not surprised she said those things to me, but it hurts me badly. I feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I try to control it. If there is one thing I have learned, it was to be strong and not let mother’s words hurt me. But I am hurt, how long will I continue to pretend to be strong? Why has mother hated me like this all my life? Why would she even think I want to take her husband away from her? The thought of it is sickening, she is supposed to love me and protect me as her child. That is her job, but she has continued to fail me. It’s my first night in this room and I don’t like it one bit. I stay awake trembling, I am scared, the house is quite big and even if I scream here, no one will hear me from upstairs. The night is cold and I feel so alone. I think it I will feel safer if I lock the door but the door has no key, someone must have taken it out, but why? I look at the clock and it’s already past midnight, ‘this isn’t good’ I whisper to myself then try to close my eyes out of fear. I know that in a few days, I will get used to sleeping here all alone.

I hear footsteps and I sit up on the bed, I know who it is and that makes me even more scared. I watch as the door handle turn and he walks in, it was the sick monster I call father.

 

 

“Awake pussycat?”

 

 

“Father, what are you doing here?”

 

 

“I’ve told you not to call me Father! I am not your father. Call me Daddy instead. It’s sexy.”

 

 

“And I’ve also told you not to call me pussycat. It makes my skin crawl. I knew you gave me this room for some sick purpose. What do you want here?”

 

I get off the bed and walk to a corner of the room as he approaches me and stands menacingly in front of me. He gets closer and I have to turn away, my back is now against him. I try to make myself smaller by pushing into the wall but it didn’t work work.

 

“Father, don’t!”

 

 

“Don’t what pussycat?” He says and pushes up against me. “I only came to see how you are settling into your new room.”

 

 

“You didn’t have to, I am fine. Please go away.”

 

I try to push him away. But he presses in tighter, forcing my face on the wall. My heart is starting to pound at the force of his grip and the thought of his masterful control over me. Despite trying to pull away from him, I cannot, I don’t have the strength to fight him.

He leans in to speak to me in my ear so I feel his words as much as I hear him. I am beginning to feel trapped. “You shouldn’t be touching me like that Father, it’s so inappropriate. ”

 

 

“Don’t call me that! I am not your father. What is wrong with you? Call me daddy. I am your daddy. I can do a lot of things to you that your real father isn’t allowed to. Common pussycat.”

 

 

I try to wrench away but he holds me firm. “Please let me go, or I’ll scream.”

 

 

“Scream all you want pussycat.” he pushes his crotch against my back. ‎”Do you have a boyfriend?”

 

 

“How can you ask me that? You have no right.”

 

 

“Answer the question. I see the way boys in the neighborhood look at you. I just want to know if you have become a slut. Have you kissed a boy before.”

 

 

“No, I’ve not kissed a boy before.” I stammer out of fear and his crotch presses harder on my back.

I shake my head furiously as the butterflies in my stomach threaten to make me sick. I know this is not good and I struggle to get away from him but he spins me around and he roughly grabs my jaw in his hand and then pulls me to his face, now causing me to look him in the eyes and very closely too.

 

 

“Who is that Tony boy I see you hanging around with?”

 

 

“He is my friend.”

 

 

“And you say you are not a slut? Don’t you see girls in the neighborhood to hang out with? Does he touch you? Does he kiss you?”

 

 

“He does not touch me. But we have kissed.”

 

 

“Oh really? Show me how.”

 

 

“What? You must be crazy.”

 

 

Before I can struggle again, he ‎smashes his mouth against mine, holding me in place. His lips are kissing me gently and sweetly, his hands are on my ears to steer my head the way he wants. I want to fight him but I stay calm, maybe he will just leave if I don’t provoke him. In a few seconds, he  pulls back.

 

 

“Is that how he kisses you?”

 

 

I nod my head.

He pulls me to him again, this time shoving his tongue in my mouth. I can’t move my head, so I take it as his tongue plunges in and out like it was having sex with my mouth. He pulls back again.

 

 

“Do you let him do that? Do let him put his tongues in your mouth when you kiss him.”

 

 

“Sometimes.” I whisper as tears begin to roll out of my eyes. I am beginning to feel so sick and dirty.

 

 

“Dose he touch your tits?” His hand grope me, squeezing and kneading my breasts.

 

 

“Please stop Father.” I cry.

 

 

“Answer the question.”

 

 

“Yes, yes, yes. But I swear it only happened once.

 

 

‎”Only once? Hmmmm, over your bra or under, like this?”

 

He snakes his hand under my t-shirt, and into my bra, tweaking my nipple.

I feel so gross and dirtier than I’ve ever been. I cry but he does not care. He has grabbed my breast before, but it was always in a rush. Tonight, he’s taking his time to play with my nipples and I don’t understand it. But there are some weird feelings in my stomach.

 

 

“Under, but just once in awhile. I swear.”

 

 

“I’m not sure I believe you. Show me your tits, pussycat. I need to see something for certain.”

 

 

“Please stop. I will scream if you don’t.”