I sat in the living room, at the same spot where I had first laid hands on Sheryl, staring at the floor and then up to the ceiling. A camera was recording my moral breakdown and sending the footage in real-time to my computer.
The room brightened when Sheryl entered with a skip in her step. She was dressed in a very short white skirt, white over-knee socks, and a light pink "Daddy's Girl" top which I had chosen for her. The top barely covered the upper half of her tits.
She jumped at me and soon I had a giggly teenager in my lap, smiling at me. "Wow, Sheryl. What has gotten into you today?"
Her mood was contagious but could not quite bring me out of my gloom. Luckily, she settled and calmed down until she was simply holding on to me letting me dive back into my melancholy. I could not ignore my feelings.
"Hey sweet pumpkin," I said softly as I looked at her with concern in my eyes. "How do you feel about all this?"
She didn't look up at me; instead, she kept staring down at our intertwined hands resting on my lap. "You mean the blackmail?" she asked quietly before adding in a whisper "And you seeing me...touching me?" Her words hung in the air between us like an unspoken question begging for an answer.
"I don't mind," she murmured against my chest while pressing herself closer to me still not looking up at me.
Gently I brushed away a stray lock from obstructing my view of those beautiful eyes that were now hidden beneath thick lashes wet with unshed tears; I whispered back into her ear "I just don't want to hurt you, sweetheart."
Her arms tightened around my waist pulling herself even closer as if seeking solace within my embrace. She remained silent all along until finally breaking it after what felt like ages...
"When mum...when she was gone..." Her voice trembled slightly betraying how much pain still lingered inside despite years gone by..."I started pinching myself." While confessing she kept her gaze lowered avoiding mine.
"First, I just wanted to feel something--anything really--because everything else felt numb. But then, strangely enough, I liked the pain." Her admission made no sense, yet somehow it did all too well considering how I knew her now. A creature caught between pleasure and torment. "It made my inner pain smaller somehow..."
I had to fight back tears as she continued. "Then I slapped myself. I felt stupid and embarrassed, but I couldn't stop until my face was red. The pain was my only relief...until I discovered porn. I began masturbating like a compulsive addict, then went back to hurting myself; and eventually, I did both at the same time."
I did not know what to say. I knew how much she had suffered from losing her mother. But how could I have all of this? I had been so selfish, so focused on my own misery.
"Sex, pain, and humiliation have become very important for me," she said matter-of-factually as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "I love it; I live for it."
"But don't you want to find a kind and caring partner? Someone who takes care of you? Someone normal?"
Her gaze met mine with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. "Dad, I dream of being slapped, spit on, and fucked ruthlessly." Her voice trembled slightly betraying how much she craved this twisted desire.
"No reasonable boy would do any of that to me." She paused briefly before continuing, "When...the other day...when you punished me and spanked me...that was the best day of my life." With those words hanging heavily between us she got halfway up pressing herself against me - her barely-covered boobs brushing against my face enticingly.
"Daddy," she whispered huskily while looking down at me through thick wet lashes, "do whatever you want to me." Her admission sent a shudder down my entire body - my fear mixed with excitement. "The more you degrade me," she continued breathlessly, "the more you hurt me...the more I will love it." And with that final declaration, she got up and went to her room.
--
As I walked out into the garden, the cool morning air cleared my head. I needed this - to get away from Sheryl's intoxicating presence and clear my head. The old shed had been standing there for years, a relic of times past and forgotten dreams. It was time to tear it down, just like I needed to tear down my own desires.
I grabbed a hammer and started ripping out the boards with a ferocity that surprised even me. Each slam of the hammer against those rusty nails felt cathartic as if I was exorcising all my dark thoughts with each strike. But no matter how hard I worked or how much sweat dripped down my face, Sheryl's image lingered in my mind.
As I continued to dismantle the old shed, the sound of splintering wood and clanging nails echoed through the garden. It was a symphony of destruction, a physical manifestation of my inner turmoil. Each board I ripped out felt like a piece of my own heart being torn away, leaving me raw and exposed.
I couldn't help but think about Sheryl's mother. She had always been so kind to me, welcoming me into their home with open arms. Her laughter still lingered in my memory, a stark contrast to the emptiness that now filled this once-vibrant garden.
The image of young Sheryl doing her homework under her mother's watchful eye haunted me. It was a reminder of innocence lost and trust shattered. How could I have let things go this far? The guilt gnawed at me like an insatiable beast.
I remembered how she used to play hide-and-seek in this shed when she was younger; how she'd giggle uncontrollably whenever her mother found her hiding spot; how she'd look up at us with those big eyes full of wonderment and curiosity about life itself...
All those memories now tainted by what had transpired between us recently... A wave of regret washed over me as another plank fell away from its place and landed on the lawn.
I paused for a moment, wiping the sweat from my brow as I looked around at the chaos I had created. The shed was slowly coming down, but it seemed like no matter how much I tore apart its structure, it would never be enough to erase the pain and betrayal that lingered within me.
With renewed determination, I picked up my hammer once more and continued tearing down the shed board by board. Each strike against those rusty nails felt like a battle cry against my own dark desires - an attempt to break free from their hold on me.
The sun relentlessly beat down on me during this laborious task -- sweat trickling down my face mingling with dust and dirt.
A sigh escaped my lips as yet another piece crumbled beneath the hammer blows -- each strike echoing through empty spaces where laughter once rang out loud...
But even as I worked tirelessly on destroying this relic of forgotten dreams, Sheryl's face still was in my mind - her intoxicating presence refusing to be exorcised by physical labor alone.
Her soft skin...her seductive eyes...her body begging to be touched... I groaned in frustration at myself before finally giving up on any hope of distraction. Maybe a cold shower and some coffee would help calm these raging thoughts inside me?
