Sometimes I still can't believe it all happened. It seemed like a dream, that night, twisted into something lurid and unfamiliar, until it was a living nightmare. By the end of the night I barely recognized my daughter, and I certainly didn't recognize myself. I shudder when I remember it; it seemed like it happened to a different man. For those hours, I was possessed. But I'll tell you now. It was the worst night of my life, to be sure - but it was also the best. After everything, after all the pain, the horror, the shame, after it all, I would still make the same choice.
My daughter Mary and I pulled into the hotel around eight o'clock, both exhausted from a long day visiting potential colleges. We'd hit one in the morning and another in the afternoon, then drove all the way up to Vermont to see another in the morning. My little girl had gotten into ten out of twelve schools she applied to, with large scholarships to four. It was going to be a tough choice, but she was cheerful and positive. One of the reasons she'd done so well was she didn't let herself get stressed by much, and had an easygoing disposition that served her well during challenging times. My wife had taken her a month ago to see the other schools, and I was glad to have a turn to spend one on one time with my only child before she left for school in six months. She was newly eighteen and we had only a few more months before we had to let her out of the nest. I, for one, wasn't looking forward to it.
"What do you think, honey?" I asked after we put our bags down next to each of the double beds. This is the moment I always come back to, when I remember what happened. I'd really wanted a burger, and I knew hotels like this didn't have anything decent. What if I hadn't been as polite? What if I had made the choice for us? Would it still have happened? I asked Mary: "Want to go to the diner across the way, or the restaurant in the hotel?"
She sat down on the end of her bed and changed from her sneakers to a pair of sandals. It was April and nearly warm enough to go without a jacket; she was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and a sweater. "I'm tired, daddy. Can we just walk to the restaurant for a sandwich?"
I said goodbye to my burger. I got both of us into this situation, it was all my fault. But it was all because I wanted to make my little girl happy. That's it, that's what I tell myself. It doesn't change anything, but it helps, sometimes, when I'm awake at night, remembering, and I'm plagued by the warring emotions that accompany me every time I relive this night.
We walked to the restaurant together and got a table near the window. We passed two men eating in the center of the restaurant. I was fifty; these guys were late thirties, early forties, and grungier than I am. I grew up in central Ohio, a middle-class boy grown into a responsible, boring man. Nothing about me is impressive; I wasn't the best athlete, or the smartest in school. I love my wife and daughter, and I'm a good salesman. That's about it. Louisa, my wife, and I met at work when we were twenty-six, and got married about two years later, had Mary three years after that, and weren't able to have any more kids. Louisa and I are happy, good partners; we have sex regularly, and it's good. We're united on all things Mary. There's nothing about me to explain why I did this; no unhappy marriage, no lack of sex, no depravity in my childhood. It was just lust. And, I suppose, I wasn't ready to let my little girl go.
I'm getting ahead of myself.
These two men were in the restaurant, wearing old jeans. One was thin with a wild beard, the other was heavier and muscular. I saw them eyeing Mary as she passed, but she didn't notice. I felt a prickle of nervousness at the way their eyes scraped over her body, and then, a little bit of pride. At school Mary was a bit of a mouse, and even though she was beautiful, boys didn't notice her. That's how it worked in high school; the same as when I was a kid. People liked who they were supposed to, and boys often missed the girls like Mary, pretty and sweet, the diamonds in the rough. I'd witnessed more than one night where Louisa had to hold Mary while she cried over this boy not liking her, this one not asking her to dance. So it made me nervous, sure, but I was glad to see men taking a notice of her. You see, I knew Mary was gorgeous. It had bothered me that other men didn't seem to look. You might find that strange, but it's true; she was my perfect girl.
And Mary was perfect. Five foot four, she had softly curling light brown hair that went to her elbows and large blue eyes, cheeks that blushed pink whenever she was exerted or embarrassed. She was one hundred and twenty-eight pounds; soft everywhere she should be, slender everywhere else. A perfect size four. She dressed modestly and sweetly, with little lace trim on her tshirts and bows on her tank tops right between the breasts. It puzzled me that she didn't drive men crazy.
These men stared all through dinner, and Mary didn't seem to notice. Like I said, I didn't mind. I probably should have. Another mistake.
We finished our food and went back to the room around nine-thirty. She showered first and then put on her pajamas - a matching set, pink tank top, ruffled shorts. I could see her pretty breasts through the soft cotton, unbound by a bra. They were C's, I would guess, and her nipples were soft and puffy by the look of them pressing dully through her top. I looked away as she combed her wet hair with her fingers, the shorts bunching a bit between her full cheeks.
"Why don't you pick a movie?" I asked. "We'll watch it when I'm out of the shower."
"All right, daddy."
I took my sweatpants and tshirt into the bathroom with me, along with my phone. I hadn't had a chance to listen to the news all day, so I queued it up loud so I could hear it over the water pounding on the side of the shower wall. I scalded myself clean for ten minutes and then shut off the water and dried myself.
That's when I heard the voices. Laughter. I stopped moving, then heard it again. It was probably coming from the hallway, or the next room - hotels could carry sound so strangely! - but I reached for my phone and turned off the news to be sure.
"Don't you look pretty!" A man cooed, and then another man laughed. My blood picked up; I've never moved so fast. They were in my room. I didn't even think about a towel. I ran out of the room.
I'll never forget the sight that greeted me.
My little girl, her hands bound behind her back, kneeling on the hotel floor with a gag in her mouth. Her blue eyes were wide and terrified. And two men - the two men from the restaurant - on either side. The bearded one had his hand sound through her hair, dragging her head up. The muscled one had a gun pointed straight at her.
He turned it to me.
"There's daddy." He smiled at me.
I put my hands up. "Let her go."
"Not so fast," he said.
"Let her go," I said again. "I'll give you everything we have. My money is in my wallet over on the dresser. My car is outside. Just let her go."
He pointed the gun back at Mary. She whimpered and closed her eyes. "I said not so fast. We're going to have some fun first."
That's when my stomach went sick. If he didn't have a gun pointed straight at her, I would have tackled him. But I was terrified he'd shoot. My palms were sweating. "Don't touch her!" I yelled. I hoped someone would hear.
A second later he'd crossed the room. He was huge, and in a moment, I was on the floor, his arm in the center of my back.
"Don't talk, old man, or I'll shoot," he whispered in my ear. I struggled against him.
"You're going to do exactly as I say. And so are you, girly. OK?"
I heard my little girl whimper. I closed my eyes; I couldn't take this.
"If either of you screams or makes a sound, you're dead," he said. I felt him pull my hands back and bind them together as tightly as he could. "You struggle, you're dead. You try anything, you're dead. You got that?"
Something came over me, a survival instinct. I said yes. I could hear Mary agree too, through her gag.
"Great. Just do as we say and everything will be fine. Alright?"
He pulled me to my feet and dropped me on the bed, so I was laying on my side with my hands trussed behind me, still naked. He stuffed a rag in my mouth so I couldn't talk. Then, he pulled Mary up, so she was facing me. She was trembling. A tear ran down her cheek.
"I'm Frank," the small one said. "And this is Brad. I'm going to take out your gag, sweetie. You're not going to scream. Remember the rules?"
Mary nodded.
He removed her gag. "Tell us your name."
"Mary."
Brad smiled at Frank. "She's a good girl."
"You are," Frank said. "God, you're so pretty." He touched her hair, her cheeks. "Can we have a look, honey?"
She shook her head.
Brad tsked. "Now, now. That's not how we're going to play tonight. Remember you agreed to be good. Are you going to be good?"
Mary looked at me. I nodded at her; I didn't know what else to do. It seemed safer.
"Yes."
"Good." Frank touched her tank top. "Now, again. Can we have a look?"
She trembled. "Yes."
Brad reached out and, in one motion, tore the fabric like it was tissue paper. He then tore the straps away so my little girl was utterly bare.
I couldn't tear my eyes away as my little girl's breasts were revealed to me. They were plump and pretty and graced with pink nipples the size of quarters. I couldn't deny the pulse I felt in the pit of my stomach, seeing them. She was so beautiful, so ripe. Frank moaned and took one in his hands. Brad leaned down and gave her nipple a lick. Mary jumped. He took her nipple in his mouth and sucked while Frank massaged her other breast with his hand, pinching her other nipple between his fingers.
"You have such pretty tits, Mary," Frank said. "Daddy doesn't she have pretty tits?"
I closed my eyes.
He tsked. "It's a shame you won't look. You're missing out."
"No daddy," Mary said. "Don't look, daddy."
Brad moaned around her breast. Then, to my shock, I heard Mary gasp. I opened my eyes, afraid they were hurting her. But instead I saw that Frank had also leaned down, so now both men were sucking my girl's tits. Brad lewdly licked her nipple like a cat. She gasped, and blushed, seeing me look. I turned onto the bed. It wasn't my fault I was getting hard; it was normal, it wasn't about wanting my girl.
"What about that pussy?" Frank said when he came up for air. "You wanna show us, sweetheart?"
"No," Mary said.
Brad touched her hips and tugged her toward him. He sat on the bed and she stood in front of him. He gripped both breasts hard in his hands. "I don't like that answer, honey. You wanna try that again?"
"Show us your pussy, sweetheart," Frank said.
Mary glanced at me. There was something in her eyes, an apology, then a giving in. "All right."
I watched in horror and fascination. I felt I could not look away; if my girl was experiencing this, then I needed to watch, or else I was a coward. She lowered those ruffled shorts.
"No panties," Frank said.
