﻿Happens every night, doesn’t matter how the day went, if it was good or bad, happy or sad. I always have to endure the nightly ritual, and it hurts every time. I can’t remember when exactly my first time was, it kinda goes as far back as my mind allows me to remember, but it’s always been a part of me in some way, a piece of my mind that feels jagged and out of place.  
My name’s Izzy, and I’m 11 years old. I am of the canine species, specifically a Mastiff. I’m blessed with golden-brown fur, and as a puppy I was always happy, my mom called me her little sunbeam for how intense I was. Always running around with my brothers and sisters, climbing up things and always getting mad whenever I found a barrier I couldn’t pass. I used to pout when I was upset, usually to try and get what I wanted, but now I mostly use it to hide my emotions. It’s just that now, I don’t really like sharing what I’m thinking with others, for me it’s better to have everyone think that I’m upset and I don’t want to talk, than showing them the real me.  
Guess I should get back to what I was talking about earlier: people think my father is a nice guy for the most part, he even volunteers at a children’s shelter, and I used to think he loved my mother with all his heart. Often when we hear people describe our parents, we don’t recognize who they’re talking about. They speak as if they know them better than us. They aren’t there when the old man is sad, angry, depressed, stressed…frustrated. I know too much about my dad now, when he looks into my eyes, I see his lust screaming out behind them. I hate him for that, that he gave me the ability to see him, to pity him.  
–
I was five when he first penetrated me, it’s the first memory I have of that period of my life. I woke up choking as I felt I couldn’t breathe as easily anymore, something was blocking my airways, my groggy brain taking a few seconds to switch from mouth to nostrils for air. As an arduous breath entered my lungs I could suddenly smell him. My Dad always has a musk lingering around him, its strength depending on how long he went without showering. My mother forces him to clean himself at least once every other day, but sometimes he skips a few. 
What was blocking my airways turned out to be a piece of cloth that was being forced into my muzzle. In the dark, all I could see was the glint of his eyes as his paw was forcing more and more of the tissue between my cheeks. I tried to talk to him, confused at first, and when I saw how out of control he was, how feral he looked, I tried to scream. But I couldn’t. I could only whimper and moan, which seemed to make him even more desperate. 
The next thing I sensed was his touch, his big hands slowly snaking their way under my blanket to feel up my small and vulnerable body. I always sleep naked: his idea, something about not wanting me to overheat. Of course I know now my father just did not want to go through the hassle of undressing every time, he’s just lazy like that. 
After I was properly immobilized, he put his left paw on my butt, squeezing and gripping my soft and tender flesh. 
“An ass made for your daddy. Look at you, baby, tell me you don’t want to be molested.”
He always likes saying stuff like that, especially when I can’t answer. Usually, he follows it by moving his hand down between my legs, pushing my thighs apart so that he can rub and finger me. I can’t tell how many times he’s made me cum just from that, but he doesn’t do it for me. 
Dad likes to make my hole nice and wet for what was to come. I hate when he makes me orgasm, every time it feels like my body is giving into him. The power he holds over me in those moments is terrifying. 
He was panting to the point that I thought a wild dog had broken into the house, the constant string of loud breaths filling my groggy brain as he pulled my blanket down and exposed me to the chilly night air. As he added his whole adult weight on top of my child sized bed, the springs squeaked, the noise of it sounding like the scream I couldn’t howl, my muzzle still gagged with the piece of cloth he had forced inside it. Forced to breathe desperately through my nostrils,all I could sense was his hot sweaty musk overwhelming my senses. 
And then, suddenly, something was laid on the fur of my belly. Something unbearably warm,the sheer weight of it making me shudder without knowing why: he was grinding his 8 thick inches of meat between my legs, his large knot rubbing against my untouched pussy. 
I was so young, but somehow I knew the danger I was in. More tears started to spill down my cheeks, little whimpers escaping my gagged maw with every breath. The more he rubbed his flesh against my fur, the more feral he seemed to become. He was losing control even more, and he showed that by grunting and ranting things into my ears, his face so close to mine that I could feel his breath blowing against me with each huff..
“You little whore… You’ve made me wait too long... You’re nothing... You’re mine…”
I don’t remember every word he cursed and spit at me, but I remember feeling his anger, his frustration, and I felt… I felt like I was at fault, like I had done something wrong, and that he was in his right to punish me for it. I deserved it.
His first thrust inside of me is burnt into my mind forever. The burning pain, the insane, indescribable feeling of being pierced by a red hot rod of steel.It was unimaginable, it was something I could not comprehend at the time, my mind going blank as the heat of his thick cock overwhelmed me ,my cunt stretching around him. That night, he only got three inches in before he completely bottomed out, cursing my frail body for not being flexible enough for his entire length, while my high-pitched wails were muffled by the gag. But soon, my visible pain was enough to satisfy his lust, and he took to fondling his own knot, whispering to me some more depraved words.
“I’ll show you... Maybe not tonight, but soon... You’ll take me whole...”
Despite not being able to get it all inside of me, when I think back on that night, I suppose it still is the roughest he has ever been with me. Maybe it was the pain of losing my virginity, but I feel like he still hasn’t matched the level of violence and pent-up energy he showed me that night. He did everything he had ever wanted to do to me, battering my underdeveloped womb again and again, his heavy nuts smacking and slobbering his sweat and genital fluid all over my backside.. I think I blacked out about three times before it ended, and once more when I felt his last orgasm inside of me, his warm cum bloating my belly as I screamed out into the gag for one final time. As I was fading back into darkness, I remember his grunts sounded like a feral animal, exhausted himself while he massaged his seed out into me, then leaving me unconscious after he was completely drained.
–
I woke up the next morning as if from a nightmare, trying to jump out of bed but unable to, stopped by the terrible soreness from what he did to me. I could see and feel thick globs of cum pour out of my abused pussy. I started to cry from a mixture of mental and physical pain, but it was he who answered my wails, entering my room with a wide smile and some reassuring words.He wasn’t naked, but he was only wearing his night robe, carrying a cup of coffee like if it was a completely normal morning.
Once he had quieted me down, putting a finger over my lips and shushing me as if suddenly cared and loved me, he went back to the door and yelled down the corridor.
“She’s okay, she’s just having a little cold. I’ll take care of her, darling!”
I didn’t hear my Mother’s reply, but I saw the smug, condescending grin on his face as he turned back towards me. He opened his robe, and showed me what my breakfast would be.   
Dad called my school to report that I wouldn’t be going today: I had the flu, body aches, and a sore throat. My loving father even took the day off at work to take care of me while mom went off to her own job. He sometimes shows me pictures of that day, taking great pleasure pointing out the close-ups he made of my eyes: they look empty, staring past the camera, broken. Just the way he likes me.   
It’s getting late. I have to wash up now, before bed. I know he won’t leave me alone tonight either, but I like to imagine that he’s fallen asleep, too tired to visit me. It’s nice to have a little hope, no matter how silly it is.