To the Rescue

He was now starting to get nervous. Just past midnight. Even in the middle of summer, it was now dark outside. She said she would be in by 11. And there has been that group of young men hanging around the train station recently. Rumour had it they had gang raped a 19 year girl at knifepoint, but she was too afraid to report it.

He jumped when his phone beeped. Yes, it was Daisy, saved under his pet name for her - Flower. The brief text message was initially cryptic:

Hlp stat knvs

But he knew his daughter so well. Help. Station. Knives. Typed under duress. Surreptitiously.

He muttered "Fuck" under his breath, ran to his bedroom table to pick up what he considered his insurance, and bolted out the front door.

The train station was normally a 3 min jog away. He reached it in 2.

At the far end of the platform, out of the lights and the searching eyes of the CCTV, he could just about make out 4 young men in hoodies, surrounding Daisy and her 3 friends. As he got closer he saw the glint of a blade in the moonlight.

The group heard his heavy footfall and turned to face him when he was 10 yards from them. The young men had time to form an aggressive phalanx facing him, two with short knives drawn, as Daisy shouted "Daddy!" in a tone that signified both relief and apprehension.

"Who the fuck is this cunt" was spat into the air by one of the armed youths.

Daddy came to a halt a couple of yards from them. Still within the circle of lights, he looked imposing. His tank top revealed his muscular tattooed arms, gleaming with sweat. Bullet-like nipples poked through it, erect from the fight-or-flight response pumping adrenaline around his body. His powerful legs were barely contained within his tight shorts. But what stood out were his dark eyes. Normally a green-brown, the urge to protect his girl had turned them to pools of dark ink, sucking light into them, never to escape.

His girl's voice broke what had become a silent stand-off of potential male combatants sizing each other up. "Daddy, they said they were going to slice us unless we sucked their cocks".

The ringleader smirked and looking directly at Daddy, in a menacing, cold tone responded "Yeah, and once we have sliced this auld fella into ribbons, we will get back to you four, and you will beg to suck our cocks."

Daddy's heart was racing. He forced it to slow and started to gather his breath. He felt that calm descend. He may have a PhD, a well-paid desk job, but he grew up on the other side of the tracks. He had always managed to use his head to avoid fights. But he had come close, and had learned that controlling your own body and then engaging your brain was key. Although, this time he knew that talking wasn't going to work. He reached back and pulled his insurance from where he had secreted, stuck down into his shorts.

Now Daddy was the one smirking. "Guys, you are probably too young to get this. But. That's not a knife. That's a knife!"

Only a tiny sliver of the huge blade he drew fort glinted in the light. It was a combat knife, blackened except for the very sharp cutting edge that caught the light. The thick 7-inch blade was gripped tightly in Daddy's hand by its sturdy leather-wrapped handle.

Daisy could see the knife over the shoulder of her assailants. She knew it well. It rested on her father's bedside table. She would see it there when she would run to his bed after a nightmare or when lightning flashed and thunder crashed. Now aged 18, those nights were less frequent, but she still loved waking-up with her Daddy's strong arm around her a couple of times a year.

She remembered how her Daddy had explained how the knife was named after an abbreviation for Kill-Bear. Ka-Bar. And she used a mock-up wooden one when she did her self-defence course as a young teenager. Despite that course, she was afraid of these young men -- and when she was afraid, she always called for her Daddy. And he always was there for her.

The young men looked at each other. They winked and launched themselves all at once at Daddy. He advanced at them, out of the light into the dark. No one was sure exactly what happened in the next frightening seconds. There were angry screams, and wails of pain.

As Daddy staggered back into the light, a slash to his cheek oozed scarlet and he gripped his upper thigh, a red stain spreading under his strongly veined hand. He lost his balance and fell backwards, striking his head on a lamppost and passing out cold. Now would be the time for the four men to attack, but three were nursing debilitating wounds to their hands and arms. The fourth was gathering himself and once he realised the position of strength he was now in, he advanced into the light with his blade in his hand.

Daisy had to act quickly. It was dark, but she had heard a knife fall close to her in the melee and searched on the ground for it with her foot. Once located, it was in her hand and then in the shoulder of the thug about to stab her Daddy before she knew what she was doing. The instinct to protect her Daddy overruled any fear she had and made her pounce like a tigress defending a cub.

With all four scumbags now out of action, Daisy rallied her three friends, all a little older at 19 years of age. She instructed them to help her get her Daddy up -- he was coming to, but was very groggy.

And grab the knife - she knew it was illegal to carry that type of knife. If she called the police or an ambulance, her Daddy would be in big trouble. What if he went to jail? She couldn't live without him -- their bond was so special. So, they had to get him home.

It took the four girls 30 min to get Daddy home, guiding his disoriented muscular body, and half lifting him at times. His wounds were not deep and the bleeding was starting to stop by the time they had him resting on his bed. Daisy stashed the knife away in the wardrobe.

The four girls were strong and fit for their ages, training together in the gym. But the effort had left them shattered. And their clothes were smeared with blood.

Daisy's protective instinct kicked in again. She needed to get her friends home now before they were missed and without their blood-stained tops. She hustled them like Mr Wolf in that old film Daddy watched over and over. Within minutes they were we out the door in her clothes on their way home.

Daisy rushed back up to Daddy. He seemed to be in a trance-like state. Muttering under his breath. At times his muscular, taut, sweaty body writhed as if fighting an unseen enemy.

She got a flannel and a bowl of cold water. She gently cleaned his face and the slash wound that was now congealed. There was a big bump on the side of his head where he had struck it as he fell.

At times his eyes flashed open. The contrast still amazed her -- his dark features, dark eyes, her blonde hair, blue eyes. He must have been attracted to the fair looks of the mother she never met. She could sense he saw something of her mother in her now that she was a young lady.

And his full lips. His outstanding feature. He would tell her of being bullied about them at the all-boys schools he attended. She just didn't believe it. So sexy, sensuous. And today so many get implants and don't look half as good! Hers were thin but sensitive.

She had been burying this desire for the man she loved more than anyone else in the world. The man who had made her the focus of his whole life. Who loved her back. Who was prepared to risk his life for her.

Now she couldn't resist. And who would ever know? The flannel had left his lips gleaming with dampness. His eyes were closed and his body was convulsing again. She leaned over and kissed him full on the lips. His lips kissed back eagerly. Wow! Did this feel good. After 10 seconds of bliss for Daisy, Daddy fell back into a quiet stupor.

As she sat back savouring the salty taste, she remembered that Daddy had been stabbed in the leg and may have other wounds. She went to the first aid cabinet and retrieved disinfectant, bandages, and those strangely shaped blunt scissors for cutting clothes away.

She decided to quickly cut away his t-shirt, sopping wet with sweat. She cut up the middle and parted the material to reveal Daddy's hairy chest, now with flecks of grey amongst the jet black. And that distinctive line of downy hair that ran in a line down and over his belly button.

No wounds. Some bruises. Again, she couldn't resist, her hand had to stroke the soft hair on his belly. She had to kiss both bullet hard nipples. She felt his taut body relax. She was giving him what he needed.

Now she cut up both legs of his shorts and parted the clothing. She could see the stab wound at the top of Daddy's right thigh. Tree-trunk like in it's strength. It was covered by his long black trunk underwear.

She carefully cut the tight, shiny, black material away. It revealed the 1-inch stab wound, with its already clotted and sealed redness. But also Daddy's hirsute cock and balls. Daddy often walked around naked at home, but now she was really up close to them for the first time.

His balls were big and wrinkled, like the ram's she saw at the petting zoo when Daddy brought her on their yearly trip. That ram was always trying to mount the females. It was the questions she raised after one of these trips as a young girl that made Daddy sit down, blush bright red, and explain what sex was to her.

She managed to draw her attention away from his manly parts. She got a cotton pad and doused it with iodine. She applied it to the wound as gently as she could but Daddy's body convulsed in pain. She quickly applied a bandage and sat back. It was now that she saw her Daddy's cock erect and twitching. A clear liquid leaking from it. His balls moving and pulsing.

His eyes were still closed, but he whispered a word over and over again: flower.

She had to help her Daddy. He had told her over the years that he didn't need another partner -- all he wanted was to love her.

She had had some boyfriends but never let them get past kissing and petting. She wanted to be a good girl for her Daddy. And she knew she would never love them like she loved her Daddy.

She knew that Daddy relieved the pressure at least daily -- he was still a virile man. Those were the only moments he locked his bedroom door.

Recently, she had been doing the same. Several times a day.

As her Daddy's cock twitched in front of her eyes, in time with his moans of "flower", she felt the wetness between her legs.

Her Daddy had risked everything to save her. He would do anything for her. She needed now to do the same. To help him to relax and recover.

She leaned over and took the head of his cock in her mouth. The taste was new, not unpleasant, masculine.

As she worked her mouth on his eager cock, she touched herself in the same rhythm. She could see his balls moving as if having a life of their own. She used her tongue on his cock as she had imagined he would use his tongue on her clit so many times. She prodded her tongue into the pronounced slit through which she knew not just pee flowed. It didn't take long before every muscle in Daddy's body contracted, he let out a loud cry of "flower", and several warm spurts of his seed was eagerly swallowed down by his girl.

She came so hard on her hand as Daddy's warmth coated the inside of her mouth. To think that the seed that had formed her was now inside her was such a powerful sexual blast to all her senses.

As she drew away she could see her Daddy relax from head to toe and a deep sleep settled on him.

She undressed, as naked as he, and cuddled into him. She drew a blanket over them both. Now she was protecting him from the storm, the nightmares. The last thought as she floated off to sleep -- mine.