Daddy Paul

Daddy Paul

All I ever wanted was to be a good, obedient servant of God.

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When I was growing up, my Mom always said that I was overly religious and preoccupied with being pure for God. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that, but she just thought it was a bit unusual for a young, pretty girl to be so concerned with such thoughts. On the one hand, she said she was concerned, but on the other, Mom thought at least she didn't need to be worried about me getting involved with boys or possibly getting pregnant before I got married.

Mom didn't seem to understand that even though I wanted to live a Godly life and stay pure until marriage, I liked boys, and for a spell, boys were all I thought about, but it had never gone any further. All of that changed when I was a senior in high school, and I met Jack Williams, a seemingly nice young man who lied and told me he was a seminary student attending Melber Bible College. I liked him, and we had long, thoughtful conversations about religion, God, marriage, you know, things like that; and in a relatively short time, I foolishly, naively thought he might be "the one."

On our first real date, the tentative, inexperienced kissing and fondling quickly changed, and before I understood what was happening, my panties were off, and Jack was between my legs. Even though he had gotten me drunk, I felt warm, happy, and eager to please, being sexually aroused for the first time in my life. As Jack worked his cock in and out of my no longer virgin pussy, I remember looking up at him and feeling a strange sensation of pleasure, but at the same time aware but unable to stop what was happening, on some level, I knew I did not want this. I must have blacked out because I could feel his cum leaking out and dripping down between my thighs when I came to.

I remember waking up and looked into Jack's face, "Oh my god Jack . . . what have you done?" I asked, my panic rising.

"I'm sorry, I meant to pull out . . . but I just couldn't help myself," he said unconvincingly.

*****

Jack brought me home but didn't walk me to the door. When I walked into the house, my stepfather Frank was there in the living room, already on his way to being drunk and belligerent. I didn't know Frank very well; in fact, I didn't really know him at all. During one of her binges, my Mom had met him, married him, and brought him home.

I thought back over the last few months and wondered about the unease and tension that had existed in our house after my stepfather Frank moved in. For Mom's sake, I tried to be friendly with Frank, but my dislike of him was so strong, it was impossible for me to like him.

I didn't like the way he looked at me, the way he followed me with his eyes. Frank seemed to be always around me or trying to touch me, mostly when Mom wasn't there. He would appear out of nowhere offering to help me with one thing or another, bringing in the grocery, lifting things, taking out the trash. Of course, I always thanked him, and then one day, he said he'd like a hug instead of just my thanks. Though I felt uncomfortable, I let him hug me and cringed when I felt his disgusting erection press against my stomach. After that, I realized that hugging him was a stupid thing to do because now I would frequently catch him almost lustfully staring at my breasts and nipples or down between my legs.

Not too long after the hugging incident, Mom was upstairs in their bedroom, and Frank cornered me in the kitchen pantry. Grabbing me by the arm, he pulled me to him and kissed me hard on the mouth as he took my hand and put it over his erection. I pushed away from him and ran out of the room. I didn't say anything to Mom, she loved Frank, and I didn't think she would believe me anyway.

Confused, frightened, and sensing I would get no help from my Mom, each night, I prayed to God to make Frank stay away from me and to purge him of the unholy thoughts he had toward me.

"Dear God, cover me with your love and protection. Help me stay on the path of righteousness and chastity, and give me the strength to conquer and turn away from unnatural urges. Amen."

Sadly my prayers didn't seem to be working, and so I prayed even harder after I caught him watching me through the window one night as I got ready for bed.

I was in my bedroom changing into my bedclothes. My bedroom shutters were slightly open as they typically were, especially in the summer, and I hadn't noticed him at first. It had never occurred to me that anyone would be able to see in or even that they would want to spy on me, yet there Frank was looking at me as I stood naked, my body on full display. I must have given him an eyeful, well-shaped breasts with long puffy nipples, slim-waisted, thick dark shoulder length hair, petite stature, neat, closely trimmed soft, reddish brown bush. Hearing a muffled grunting noise out in the yard, I could make out Frank unashamedly standing there jerking himself as he watched me. Though embarrassed, I was also angry and resisted the urge to cover myself but defiantly stood there, returning his stare and wondering if this was the first time he had peeped at me as I readied for my shower or bed.

I prayed for a long time that night, asking God to forgive me for tempting Frank.

*****

Frank started in on me as soon as I came through the door. From my stained, disheveled clothes, tear-streaked face, appearance, and general upset, he knew something had happened.

"What you been doing, girl? You look a mess," then after a long pause and looking at me intently, he asked, "you been fucking ain't you, girl?"

I burst into tears, and he started shouting at me, spittle flying, calling me a whore. He wasn't even my birth father, but for some reason, he was furious, and he said I needed to be punished.

"You little slut . . . you walk around her acting so good and pure, but I got your number now. If you're that easy and hungry to be fucked then I'm just the one to show you how it's done."

He came at me and grabbed my blouse, tearing it, and I began to scream. About that time, Mom came flying down the stairs.

"What the hell is going on down here? Frank, let go of her," she shouted at him.

"This little bitch of yours been out fucking some guy tonight and has the nerve to come in here looking like she been selling it on the street."

"No, Mom, that's not what happened," but neither of them would or wanted to listen.

"Get upstairs now, and get cleaned up . . . we'll talk about this tomorrow," Momma said.

*****

The following evening after dinner, the three of us sat down and talked about what had happened. Mom said she thought it would be good for me if I went away for a while.

I looked at her in surprise, "Mom, why?"

This drama was all Frank's doing. He had convinced her to do this to get back at me for not letting him screw me. I hated him.

"I think it will be for the best, honey," she said softly, her head down, unable to look at me.

"I talked to your Grandpa last night, Jenna," Mom began. "Grandpa discussed your situation with Pastor Stephenson, and they agreed that you could stay with the Pastor for as long as you need to or want to at the Victorian." Pastor Paul Stephenson, who was the Pastor of Evergreen Community Church, and Grandpa were old friends, and I remember having met him a few times, growing up when I visited my Grandparents. Before retiring, Grandpa was responsible for managing several of the Pastor's business concerns. After my Grandma died a little over ten years ago, Grandpa went to live with the Pastor in a large, old Victorian house owned by the church that Pastor Paul was renovating and restoring. Grandpa had lived at the Victorian for a few years, but after retiring and subsequent failing health, he moved into an assisted living facility but was still in close contact with the Pastor.

I was hurt and felt betrayed by Mom, but I listened, and although I thought what she and my stepfather were doing was wrong and unfair, I was just the same relieved and glad of the opportunity to get away from them and start over. The new situation seemed perfect; I could take this opportunity to reaffirm my religious self and faith in God, and even go back to school if I wanted to. My primary responsibilities would be light housekeeping, cooking, helping in the church office, helping out with some restoration work whenever I could, and just being a companion for the Pastor.

Though I had already turned eighteen and could have set out on my own, I wasn't ready to do that emotionally, psychologically, or financially, so I accepted his offer and went to live with Pastor Stephenson.

*****

I'm not even sure how it started with Daddy Paul.

Paul Stephenson was one of the more prosperous businessmen in the county; he was also the very popular Pastor of the Evergreen Community Church. Respected, upstanding, loved, and revered by everyone. He was kind and thoughtful, loving, and gentle, qualities that I had missed most of my life, especially from me; I trusted and felt safe with him. At first, I must admit that I was afraid, not knowing what to expect or how to respond. I soon learned my anxiety was unnecessary. My fears calmed when the first Sunday after I arrived, Pastor Stephenson escorted me to church with him and introduced me to his congregation.

My life quickly fell into a comfortable routine. Each day I would have bible study with Pastor Stephenson after lunch and then again closer to bedtime when things had quieted down for the day.

One night we were seated at the dining room table, getting ready to begin my study session, when Pastor Stephenson said, "I'd like for you to call me Daddy Paul, or better yet just Daddy."

I looked at him and began to blush with embarrassment.

"You've told me so much about yourself, Jenna. I feel more like your Father, your guardian, than your Pastor. I want to lead you closer to God and help you know God's will. I feel in my heart and soul that God has brought you to me, Jenna. He wants you to rebuke the devil's temptation and lies and to open your heart and let me guide, protect, and teach you.

He sat down next to me, and reaching out his hand, let it rest on my thigh.

"Don't be afraid, Jenna, just trust in me and know that I only seek your salvation. Know that the devil is a liar and will whisper in your ear to plant seeds of doubt and defiance." His hand eased slowly up my thigh until it barely touched the warm slit between my legs. Feeling me tense, he said, "Whatever I do, whatever I ask of you, your submission is to the glory of God, Jenna. Do you understand and accept what I am telling you with your whole heart?"

"Yes, Pas . . . yes, Daddy."

"Good, that's my good girl. Now, why don't you turn your Bible to Deuteronomy, and we'll begin our evening study."

*****

Within just a couple of weeks of my being there and becoming more secure in Daddy's teachings and shepherding, I told him about everything that had happened and why I had left home. Through a very traumatic evening of confession, I described my growing up and the anxiety, sexual threats, and intimidation from my stepfather. I wanted Daddy to know that my desire and struggle to be a good, religious person of God had remained my goal through it all. I knew that I had been weak and allowed myself to be defiled, and we talked about how I had lost my virginity to a man who had lied and used me. That night, I felt unusually close to Daddy Paul and told him that I hoped and prayed that God would forgive me with his guidance.

Daddy Paul held me and, stroking my arm, said, "Put your faith in me, Jenna. God is a forgiving God, and nothing that we could ever do would make him turn his back on us. All we need do is ask for his forgiveness."

I didn't know much about men, but already I could feel a faint warmth and tingling in my body when he held me close to him. I had begun to cry, and from shame and remorse, I asked Daddy to pray for my forgiveness.

"Simply by your confessing and repenting, God has already forgiven you, Jenna," he reassuringly said as I rested my head on his chest. After a few minutes, I felt his hand begin to fondle one of my tits, and I did not pull away. I whimpered when he pinched my nipple between his fingers, making it rock hard. I leaned into him, welcoming his comforting embrace.

"You have nice little tits, Jenna, he said softly against my cheek."

"Daddy, Daddy Paul . . . this can't be right," I hesitantly said, confused but not wanting to upset him.

"Shhhh . . . shhhh . . ." Daddy said. One hand started rubbing between my thighs, and I felt him pulling at my jeans, sliding them down my legs.

"You're so wet, Jenna. God loves you, Jenna, and despite your transgression, God is about to bless you," he said as he kept rubbing me until I came crying and humping against his hand.

*****

Daddy Paul was unlike any man of God I had ever known. There were things that he did that were unsettling in the beginning. Through Daddy's patience and guidance, over time, I eventually learned to understand and accept the manner of his teachings without question.

Though a sanctified shepherd of God, sometimes the way Daddy would talk, the often vulgar and carnal words he would use when he was anointing or blessing me were upsetting at first. Often during our study sessions, he would lay on his hands, pressing them against my forehead. Then gradually lowering them until he was cupping and covering my most private, secret places where he would pray over me for guidance until the power enveloped me, and I would begin to tremble and writhe in the spirit. I was no longer a virgin, but it was of no particular importance, knowing that Daddy had taught me to forgive myself and become a blessed vessel, submissive, and willing receptacle for his offerings to God. I remember thinking Daddy was a good Christian man who cared about me and wanted to help me become the kind of Christian person I knew I could be.

Besides my regular responsibilities at the house, the week's balance was taken up working in the Church office and helping Daddy Paul with his sermons and other church-related activities that were special and only privy to Daddy and me.

Evergreen Methodist met for bible study every Thursday evening. I remember one particular Thursday that was the turning point in our relationship. I had been there a little more than a month when I began to notice a subtle change in Daddy's behavior toward me, I mean the way he would stand too close, or his hand would brush ever so lightly against my breast or the way he would press his crotch against my behind. I suppose these things could have been unintentional . . . but I didn't think so.

I trusted and respected Daddy more than I can explain. He was like a father, friend, teacher, and mentor, and I think that not only on a spiritual level but maybe on an emotional or physical one as well, I may have been ready for his attentions. I liked Daddy; I may have even begun, despite the age difference, to love him in more than a christianly way.

This Thursday seemed no different than any other. Once we arrived at the Church, Daddy went into his office to finalize the lesson outline for that evening, and I remained in the outer office taking care of clerical odds and ends.

"Jenna . . . Jenna, come in here, please."

"Be right there," I called out in response.

I came into his office and stopped. Daddy had unzipped, lowered his trousers, and now sat in the chair behind his desk.

"Come here, baby. I need you to help me get ready."

Daddy urged me onto my knees in front of him and pulled out his cock.

I must have looked surprised and a little shocked. Daddy reached up and brushed the loose hair back from my face and said, "Put it in your mouth, Jenna."

I didn't know what to do, and though initially repulsed, I eventually did as he said and, leaning forward, began awkwardly sucking his swelling cockhead, hesitantly licking away the silvery beads of pre-cum at its tip. After a while, my head instinctively began to bob up and down as I sucked him, and he leaned back in his chair, groaning. In just a few minutes, his cock had become enormous, a deep red color, long and very thick. Gripping my head tightly between his hands, he shuddered and shot his load into my mouth, cumming hard and forcefully down the back of my throat. I couldn't swallow fast enough and began to gag as some of his cum dribbled out of my mouth.

Daddy Paul moaned softly in the afterglow of his orgasm.

"Hmmm, I think you're going to work out just fine, little girl," he mumbled seconds before he bent and kissed me hard on the mouth.

*****

Quickly, our intimacies had progressed from mutual masturbation to oral sex, and I had been there with Daddy Paul for perhaps six months when he came to my room one night for the first time.

I remember that night; he had knocked on the door and, after coming in, gotten into bed with me. The past year, my life had been in turmoil, and despite having been here living with Daddy, I had been consumed by feelings of emotional rejection, loneliness, and uncertainty. As Daddy spoke softly and soothingly to me, I began to cry and cling to him. It felt good to be held, to feel the warmth of this body, his hard maleness next to me. I needed, wanted to feel his closeness, his comfort. I fell asleep in his arms that night and slept peacefully for the first time in a long time, secure in the protection and love of this man of God.

Daddy came to my room again the next night.

He made himself comfortable under the bed covers, pulled me to him, and I felt his erection growing as it pressed against my hip. I was filled with a sudden and intense physical desire for him. He took my hand, placed it inside his pajamas, and urged me to massage his semi-erect penis. My fingers outlined the contours of its crown, down the shaft to his balls as he moaned with the pleasure that washed over him, as I felt his manhood continue to grow hot and big in my hand.

Throwing back the covers and taking hold of my legs, he pressed them up so that my knees touched my chest. I gasped . . . his cock was long and thick with a clear, glistening bead of pre-cum forming on its tip. He put the head of his cock against my slit and pushed until it was inside my pussy. I stiffened and cried out when he entered me, unprepared for the sudden forcefulness of his penetration.

"Shhhh . . . Shhhh, don't cry," he said as he slowly began stroking in and out of me. In a few minutes, he came, in one final grunting thrust. He was still hard when his body stopped shaking, and he pulled out.

We lay quietly on the bed, and after a while, I closed my eyes, thinking he was finished. I must have dozed off for a few minutes, but when I awoke and started to sit up, he pushed me back against the bed and rolled on top of me. My eager young body wanted to feel him possess me. I looked up into his face, and silently giving my acquiescence, opened my legs for him.

To me, someone who had only been with one other man before Daddy, it seemed Daddy had a monstrous cock, and I held my breath when he again eased it inside me. At the sound of my whimper, he paused and waited for my still, tight inexperienced pussy to become accustomed to him. As big as he was, I could feel him getting bigger and harder inside me when he began to thrust his hips into me. This was only the second time that I had been with Daddy like this, and like the first time, I had felt as if I were being split in two when he pressed his long, thick cock into me.

Daddy leaned forward and whispered against my ear, "Your beautiful sweet pussy belongs to God now."

I felt his cockhead jerking and rubbing against the walls of my pussy as he slowly inched his cock deeper inside me. When he finally had his full length buried in me, I felt my pussy instinctively squeeze around his cock. Though I was sore from his penetration, the discomfort seemed to dull when I felt the subtle throbbing from my clit, and the tingling sensations of a building orgasm begin to travel through my body.