3 comments/ 26721 views/ 5 favorites Not Fair Ch. 02 By: brayom33 Thanks guys for your honest opinions, i appreciate that. I know this story will provoke many social norms and will definitely upset many of us, for that I apologize. Anyway, for the rest of yall, the story will contain 20 chapters+, they will come one or two at a time,(im doing the writing and editing myself while trying to squeeze in college and work please bear with me....) AMY's story will continue and It will have plenty of characters. Thank you, and again please vote and leave any comments. Be harsh :-) CHAPTER 2 Following morning.... The morning after her dad had fucked her, Amy awoke feeling terribly hung over, terribly sad, and terribly ashamed. She'd been raped by her dad. It hadn't been a dream. She felt sick. She'd been terrified about what he might do to her when she got home. Earlier in the evening, when Amy had begun to drink, her older friends had assured her they'd have her home by sunset. Amy had never gotten drunk before, but she'd been high a few times so she had figured it'd be roughly the same thing. Her friends, two high-school boys and their older brothers, assured her she'd be okay. But after a few beers everyone began smoking pot too, and drinking more, and everyone, herself included, had forgotten about the time. They'd been in a basement without windows. They were all having so much fun, listening to music, watching cheesy movies. Forgetting the time had been easy. It wasn't until Shane Wallace began to cop a feel (she and the 19-year-old boy had been making out for almost an hour) that Amy had suddenly realized what time it must be. She'd jumped off his lap and stammered to him drunkenly that she had to get home, she had to get home right away! Reluctantly, the worked up boy had agreed to drive her. It had been raining so hard outside. She'd gotten drenched waiting for Shane to find the right key and unlock the car. The drive home was short, and she had nearly begun crying on the way there. Shane had kept telling her to relax, that it would be okay, but Amy knew her dad. He was probably drinking. He would definitely be angry. And that combination, when it came to her father, usually meant someone got hurt. Of course, he hadn't seriously hurt her in years. He'd stopped slapping her around when she was in the fourth grade, when the social worker began making visits after a teacher had reported her bruises. But a smack here and there was always the norm. And though she was constantly breaking his rules, she'd never gotten home so late. That, combined with the fact that he'd been in a foul mood about her step-mom leaving for the weekend, spelled trouble. Shane had dropped her off without a word. He was obviously pissed off. Even in her drunken state, Amy knew what the boy had really wanted: her pussy. He'd wanted to fuck her. Maybe he'd wanted her to suck him off. But though Amy was a bit wild, and though she dressed provocatively and enjoyed masturbation, she'd never had sex before. Shane probably hadn't known this. As it turned out, neither had her dad. She'd staggered up to the house feeling incredibly nervous. The rain was relentless, but all she could think about was what her dad would do to her. And to her horror, there he was, the second she'd opened the door. His eyes had been wide with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. Thunder had boomed behind her as she stared at him. He began to yell something, and she'd flinched. She'd been certain he was about to hit her. She had started to stumble some excuse, but then she'd noticed something. Between his legs there was a huge bulge pressing against his jeans. The sound of pouring rain and thunder had suddenly mixed with the sounds of moaning, too, and Amy realized a porno movie was playing in the living room. Her dad had been jacking off to porn! Obviously, Amy had known for a long time about her dad's porn collection. But the idea of him sitting alone on a Saturday night, jerking off to a porn movie, seemed funny to the stoned, drunken girl. The sight of his bulge made it even funnier. She hadn't been able to help herself: she'd started laughing. Somehow that laughter, combined with some lame attempts at explanation, had saved her. She'd fallen into him briefly, and then staggered to the stairs, and he hadn't even attempted to stop her. She'd felt in the clear. She continued to laugh, in relief now, as she entered her bedroom. Her dad hadn't followed her. He hadn't hit her. He probably wanted to get back to his movie and continue to masturbate, she had figured. With her bedroom door closed safely behind Amy had kicked off her tennis shoes, dropped her purse, and staggered to her bed. The room was sort of spinning, but all she'd been able to think about was the sight of her big ol' angry dad-- with a boner. So funny! So hilarious. She'd almost fallen asleep on this light note. Images of Shane, memories of his hand groping her tits, visions of her funny-looking dad staring at her with a boner, had filled her mind. What interrupted this progression toward passing out was the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairway. When he entered her room Amy had closed her eyes even tighter and pretended to be asleep. When he'd rolled her over, the young girl had figured he wanted to see if she was okay. Had she been sober she would have known what was going on, probably. Maybe. Instead it wasn't until he pulled off her shirt that she began to have an idea. She had purposely remained limp as he did it. In her drunken state she had decided he didn't want her to catch a cold, going to sleep with a wet shirt on. But when he began to fondle her breast the drunken girl didn't know what to think. He'd pulled off her shorts so quickly that Amy hadn't had time to process it in her drunken state until he began to finger her. No one, not a soul, had ever touched her pussy before, other than herself. She had jerked off a couple boys before, but had always been afraid to let any of them touch her there. The fact that her father was doing it made her want to scream at the violation, but instead she'd remained limp and passive. When his finger began to probe its way inside of her, and she felt herself grow wet with excitement, she'd felt nothing but shame and arousal. She'd almost had an orgasm, just from his fingering her. For years Amy had fantasized about letting boys touch her like this, but they'd always been just that: fantasies. Her father's touch had been real. And she'd known, even while stoned and drunk, that if she let him know she was awake he would probably hurt her and then leave her, unfulfilled. So she'd thought: He'll finger me, I'll cum, it'll be good, and then he'll leave... She was so drunk that this thought had actually seemed comforting. But then he'd pulled his finger out of her, just before she would have climaxed. She'd been disappointed. But then he'd gotten on top of her. And that's when she'd known, finally, what he'd had in mind all along. He was going to fuck her. Her own dad was going to take her virginity. How long had he planned on doing this? He had probably been planning it for a long time. She'd noticed the looks he'd given her before, his fake indignation at her more revealing outfits. But even after the groping and the fingering it wasn't until that moment that Amy thought her dad would actually do something so drastic as to actually fuck her. Now, this morning, the morning after, she wondered why she hadn't let him know she was really awake. If she had he would probably have left her alone. Maybe he would have hurt her, but he wouldn't have forced her into having sex with him. He'd been drunk, too, and something so simple as showing him she was awake might have stopped his drunken actions. But I was drunk, the sad, hung over girl reasoned. I was drunk. He raped me thinking I was passed out. If I'd been sober I'd have known to stop him, though. But I was drunk. I was totally wasted. I was too drunk and afraid to let him know I was awake. The main reason the hung over girl thought these things was that she was utterly ashamed. Because while her own dad had fucked her, she had cum. She'd had an incredible orgasm. She'd thought before that using her step-mom's dildo was the best sensation in the world. When her dad had begun to pummel her, however, the girl had been in ecstasy. She'd fought against it, struggled to control it, but in the end she'd behaved like an animal. In the end a real live, hard and warm cock inside her had been too much. Even if it was her dad's, it was a cock, the first cock to ever be inside her, and she hadn't been able to prevent herself from cumming. While she showered she felt like she was going to puke. Her dad had made her cum. Her dad had fucked her, thinking she was passed out. At least, the girl figured, he didn't know she'd really been awake. If he had known, he'd be thinking she was some kind of horny little slut right now. Thank God he didn't know the truth. He probably feels like shit about what he did, Amy thought before going back to sleep again. He probably feels like total shit. Amy slept the rest of the day. That night she hung out with Shane again, and this time the 18-year-old girl let the older boy fuck her. In fact, she practically raped him, straddling him the moment the car stopped outside his house. In the street, right there, Amy guided his prick into her sore pussy. She bounced up and down on it a few times before he came inside her, and it felt good. She didn't have an orgasm. It didn't feel good in that sense. What felt good was that she'd fucked someone, she had chosen to do it, and at least now she could start to pretend that she'd lost her virginity to a 19-year-old stud and not her 51-year-old father. Shane had probably thought that she was out of her mind with horniness from the aggressive way she acted. The truth was she'd acted that way out of a sense of shame and self-loathing and regret. They fucked again that night, in his bedroom, with his parents completely unaware that their son was pummeling a 18-year-old girl in the next room. Again, Amy didn't cum. But again, it had felt great. He drove her home after that, and Amy went to sleep, enjoying the feeling of Shane's cum inside her cunt. It was Shane who fucked me last night, the girl lied to herself. But it was hours, late into the early morning, before Amy believed that enough to drift off to sleep and not awake at the slightest sound. Not Fair Ch. 03 Again thanks for the feedback... Let me explain myself, the rape, it doesn't and would never get me off, but it is part of Amy's life and i want to show how it makes her the person she eventually will become, bear with me, it gets better.... Yall know the drill :-) vote and leave feedback. CHAPTER 3. Mary leaves... Four weeks after fucking his daughter, George's wife left him. It was just as he'd suspected. The 38-year-old woman had found a sugar-daddy, a man who worked with her sister who made more money and was willing to lavish her with gifts. She'd been seeing him for months, and now he'd proposed. She wanted a divorce, right now. George was angry, sure. Especially at the way she had told him all this, so matter-of-factly, so coldly. But he had come to terms with his wife's adultery weeks before. He'd come to terms with it when he'd poked his penis into his passed out daughter's cunt. After fucking the 18-year-old girl, George had become more relaxed, more content. Sure, his wife was fucking another man. Sure, his daughter was a whore of a slut who defied him at every turn. But at least Amy was his. She was his, and no one could change that. He'd proven this when he'd fucked her, when he'd made her cum in her own bed, when he'd done all this without the girl even being aware. And that was the best part. He'd fucked his tramp of a daughter and she didn't even know he had. In the days following his fucking her, Amy had been distant, sure, but George had known why: she'd been afraid of getting busted for being out late and for drinking. He never did punish her for that, and the stupid little girl probably had no idea why. And eventually their relationship had returned to the way it had been before. Of course, he didn't really see her the same way anymore. Now when she was in her PJ's, he envisioned what was underneath them. When she wore her trampy outfits he no longer criticized. He enjoyed looking at his daughter's body, even as he completely lost interest in his wife's. But even though he'd become attracted to his 18-year-old girl, and even though he didn't mind jacking off to the memory of his cock planted deep inside her twat, he had no plans on ever doing anything like that again. He'd proven his point, that she was his. That was enough. "We're not good together, George," Mary had said at the end of her long, cold explanation. "We both know it. I just... I'm willing to move on. I hope you are, too." Those were in fact the last words Mary said to him before walking out of the house, a suitcase gripped tightly in each hand. It was infuriating to watch her go, and her explanations why were like meaningless bullshit, but at least he wouldn't have to pay any alimony. She would be marrying her newfound love the second the divorce was final. "Aren't ya even gonna say goodbye to Amy?" he'd called to her just before she got to the door. The words obviously rattled her, too, but rather than respond, she just left. A cab was waiting for her to take her away, away from him. "Stupid cunt," George said after she was gone. When Amy got home from school she tried to bolt directly to her room. Typical teenager, George thought, avoiding her parent at all cost. "Amy!" he yelled. He was sitting at the kitchen table, still wearing his overalls and dirty white t-shirt from work. When she entered the room, he allowed his eyes to gaze wantonly up and down her tight little body. She was wearing a loose-fitting green halter-top with thin straps that arched over her slender shoulders. Her breasts seemed to bulge around the garment and were the only place where the top was tight on her. Her belly-button was just barely exposed, and her jeans were tight and light-blue and low riding. Damn, thought George. She must not be wearing panties or I'd see their waistband. What a slut. "I gotta tell you something," he said to his slut of a daughter. She stepped toward him and then, with her eyes to the floor, sat down across the table from him. He stared intently at her face. She wasn't looking at him. Her hair framed her youthful, oval face. Her expression was one of typical teenage annoyance. "Your step-mom," he said matter-of-factly, "left." She looked up at him in surprise. "What?" the girl asked. "She left. She's not coming back. She found a new man, she's gone." George was surprised at his girl's sudden tears. Suddenly he realized that though he'd been ready for this, Amy hadn't had this luxury. She probably hadn't imagined that her step-mom could leave. "Why didn't she say goodbye?" the girl said, her lower lip trembling. "Look, I know you see her as your mom, but she wasn't your mom," George said quickly. "Mary, well, shit. She never treated anyone right, not you, not even me." Amy was sobbing into her hands now. She was blubbering something like, "Why did she leave? Why did she leave?" George didn't know what to do. Fuck, he thought, she's genuinely upset. Forgot the whole thing about Mary being the only mom she's ever known. Shit. Suddenly he stood up and went to the fridge. His daughter was still bawling when he placed a cold long-neck in front of her. "Drink that," he said. The girl stopped crying for a moment. George felt awkward. He wanted her to handle her grief the way he always had, and if she didn't, well, he didn't know what to do. Hug her? Kiss her? Tell her everything is going to be all right? That wasn't possible. Amy stared at the beer. Her cute young face was stained with tears, and she looked up at him, then back at the bottle. Her expression was enough to break his heart, and he had to remind himself what a nasty little bitch she really was in order to retain his composure. Finally, and to his great relief, she gripped the frosted bottle and placed its opening to her lips. He cracked open one for himself, too, while his little girl drank greedily at her beer. He sat back down and looked at her. "She wasn't really my mom," Amy said after her beer was almost finished, "but... you know, why didn't she say goodbye? She was... didn't she love me?" She was getting ready to cry again. George stood up, got her another beer, and as she began to drink it he said, "She's a bitch, Amy. She never cared about you or me. This guy she's leaving me for, she's going to him because he's got money. She don't give two shits about him, either. Trust me." The next hour was spent like that: Amy, wearing her tight little outfit and alternately wailing and speaking philosophical while George gave her beer after beer and tried to answer his little girl's questions. By the time she finally had to go to the bathroom the girl had probably drank as much beer as she'd cried tears. And now George's cock was hard. His wife had left him but his daughter was here, and damn, the memory of her tight pussy around his dick was impossible to forget. And he was getting her drunk, too. Maybe he could get her as drunk as she'd been that night a few weeks before when he'd fucked her passed out body. Boy did he want to! He began to rub himself between his legs just as Amy returned to the kitchen. She froze when she saw him. George hadn't heard her enter, but he grinned at her expression. She seemed surprised and embarrassed, and she even stepped back as if to go away. "Wait," he said to her. She stopped moving, and just stared. He began to unzip his pants. "Get over here," he demanded. Might as well treat her like the slut she was, he reasoned. She was definitely drunk by now, and so was he. A drunk slut like her probably wanted cock more than anything, and he would be happy to oblige. Her reaction to the sight of his dick wasn't what he'd expected. She was horrified! "I'm leaving," she blurted. She then spun around and bolted from the kitchen. George had only a second to think about it but that second made him angry. How dare she look at him like that, like he was some sort of monster? He jumped out of his seat and ran after her. When he got to the front door it was slamming shut. He gripped the doorknob and yanked the door open, then marched across the porch and jumped over the rocky inlet that separated it from the grass. Amy had nearly made it to the street when he grabbed her, right in the middle of the front lawn. "NO!" she cried. She was squirming and fighting him. Why? Because she saw him rub himself a bit? Because he'd taken out his cock in front of her? She had no reason to be so defiant! A slut like her should be used to seeing cock! Wasn't his good enough for her? George growled into her ear, "BE QUIET!" He dragged her, literally kicking and screaming, back into the house. When the door shut he finally let her go, but he smacked her hard across the face right after. "YOU DON'T RUN OUT ON ME YOU STUPID SLUT!" he growled. He saw the fear in her eyes just before he cracked her across the face again. She fell to her knees and whimpered. He was breathing heavily. She looked so innocent, so much the victim. But he knew better. He'd just fed her three or four beers, and she'd drunk them like a pro. She knew how to drink because she knew how to party, and if she knew how to party she knew how to fuck. She was a slut of a whore, just like her step-mom, just like her real mom, actually. Suddenly George grabbed the crumpled up, whimpering girl, and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. She squirmed futilely against him the entire way. When he got to his bed, he sat down abruptly and forced her young body across his lap. "Why do you have to defy me all the time?" he demanded, just before his open hand smacked across her denim-covered ass. "Why do ya gotta be such a bad girl? Things aren't hard enough for me, you gotta make them worse? Huh?" She shrieked and cried, but he just kept on spanking her. God, did it feel good! Every smack of his hand against her butt was like an orgasm, a great release. It'd been way too long since he'd spanked this little bitch, and boy did she need it. She'd deserved a good spanking for a long, long time. Suddenly, though, George wanted to spank her properly. Fuck the pants, he though as he stared at her round little ass. Why did she deserve even that layer of protection? George gripped his daughter's red hair in his beefy hand and yanked her small, fragile frame off from his lap, tossing her body to the side. She shrieked at the sensation. Good, George thought. While she whimpered and moaned and blubbered he cursed into her young face as his free hand unbuckled, unzipped, and ultimately pulled down her pants. "You need a bare-ass spanking you dirty slut, you stupid whore," he grumbled as he pushed her helpless body across his lap again once her pants were off. "You think your fucking whore of a step-mom leaves me, you can take advantage of me? You can treat me like shit because you feel sad? No sympathy bitch, no sympathy from me you stupid cunt..." He cracked his hand down upon her now bare ass, and felt his cock jolt at the moment of impact. It jumped up inside his jeans and pressed against her soft belly. "You're a stupid fucking slut," he declared whilst she wailed, "a stupid whore, a fucking bitch!" He was yelling these things for his own benefit. It felt good to yell at her while he hurt her-it reminded him he was in control. His hand clapped down onto her round, now reddened, ass. She had quit squirming to get free. Now she was only squirming from the pain. George spanked her a few more times. "Your step-mom is gone," he finally panted after a dozen or so blows. "Just you and me now. And I ain't gonna take any defiance anymore. You got that? NONE!" He had let go of her, but the young girl was still lying across his lap. His cock was like a diamond, remorselessly hard, and poking up into her belly. Did she realize this? Did she care? Or was the idea of him getting hard turning her one (could she be that much of a slut)? "Fuck you." Her words sent a streak of renewed anger up George's spine. Without thinking he pushed her, sending her limp frame to the floor with a thud. A moment later he was beating her ass with his hand once again. The things he screamed now no longer mattered. As he spanked her ass he realized he had to fuck her. That would teach her. Like the night she'd come home drunk, and he'd had to teach her a lesson: she'd been unconscious, but boy had he taught her a lesson. Right now she was awake, probably a little drunk, and behaving like a defiant, bitchy little whore. He had to teach her a lesson. He wanted to. So while he pressed her youthful face into the floor with one hand, he took out his cock and pressed it against her ass cheeks with the other. Moments later he had his dick planted inside her pussy. It was a dry entry, and she struggled against it, but George just saw this as a challenge. His little girl, half-naked and with a reddened ass and trying to squirm away from his cock... "This is what fucking cunts like you deserve!" he cried. She whimpered profusely while he fucked her doggy-style. He gripped his powerful hands around her waist and slid them up her body, under her shirt, until he could play with her tits. God, what great tits. They felt so good in his hands, especially while his cock was deep inside of her. She moaned and cried and begged for a while, but it wasn't long before she got wet and began to shiver with each thrust he made. George could feel the quivering of her cunt deep inside her pussy, and he smiled and grunted triumphantly at the sensation. He'd wanted to punish her, but now he loved that she was enjoying that punishment. With a groan of satisfaction he erupted inside her young little cunt, and after he finished cumming inside her twat he spanked her now swelling ass a few more times. It was perfect. George's elation quickly faded, however. As he stood up breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath, the sight of his 18-year-old daughter crumpled up in tears on the floor with her ass reddened and with his semen leaking out from her pussy, his drunken anger turned to drunken remorse. He didn't feel guilty about punishing her. No, the brat had definitely deserved it. His guilt stemmed from the sudden realization that, once again, he'd fucked her. He, her own father, had just fucked her, even after swearing to himself that it had been a one-time thing. But she'd tried to leave him. On the day his wife had left him! It had just become a two-time thing, then. So what? "Don't ever try to leave me again, you little brat. You don't get to leave me. You're mine," he breathed heavily at the shriveled up, whimpering girl. Finally he grabbed her and carried her to her room, dumped her in her bed, then went downstairs to have a few more beers. The beers helped: by the time he was drunk enough to pass out the guilt had dulled considerably. Not Fair Ch. 04 When Amy woke up it was to the sound of her alarm clock blaring away next to her. She glanced at it: 6:30am. The sad and tired teenager groggily hit the snooze button. When it went off again, she took the time to make sure the alarm was off, and fell back asleep. No way she was going to school today, she thought. It wasn't until noon that she finally woke up. When she did she realized she was naked from the waist down. What had happened? Had her dad carried her to her bed, or had she stumbled there? Probably stumbled there, she thought: Daddy probably left me on the floor after raping me, went downstairs and passed out in the recliner. I probably passed out too, on his floor. Then I stumbled here and was too tired and drunk to remember to grab my pants. Without looking down, Amy reached her hand to her pussy and felt it. She winced with pain. He had really gone to town on it, she thought. When she shifted on the edge of the bed she winced again: her butt was bruised, she realized. The 18-year-old remained in a daze during her long, deep shower, even while she dressed; even while she went downstairs, where she realized her dad wasn't home. Good, she thought: he's gone, he went to work, it's spring and he'll be working until late. Good. Good. God! The shell-shocked teenager grabbed a Mountain Dew from the fridge and then went back up to her room. She sat on her mattress again, gasping at the pain, and didn't know what the hell she should do. Call the cops? Call Mary? Maybe Mary would let her come and stay with her and her new boyfriend. But no, that was ridiculous, because her step-mom hadn't just left her dad the day before, she'd left her, too. Calling the cops was the only easy thing she could think of, the best thing to do. But there had to be something else she could try. Calling the cops had to be a last resort. Amy went to her computer and did a google search. At first her fingers remained poised over her keyboard. They were trembling. She took a swig from her soft drink before finally typing in one simple word: "incest". Please help me, the girl thought when she clicked the "search" button. Please! There were a ton of hits. But rather than scan through them all, Amy clicked on the first link without even thinking. The website that instantly appeared on her monitor was for some group called "The American Sexual Abuse Network". The 'net savvy girl scanned the page quickly, and nearly froze when she saw the first prominent link on the site. It was titled: "What should I do?" What should I do? the girl wondered with tears welling up in her eyes. She took another swig from her soda and clicked the link. Tears trickled down her young cheeks as she ingested the caffeine ridden soda. Please, Google, don't let me down, the dazed girl hoped. Amy had no idea, she really had no clue, about what she was supposed to do now. The first time her dad had raped her, it had been so easy to chalk it up to his drunkenness. Her own drunkenness, even. He'd thought she was passed out, and if she'd been sober enough to let him know that she wasn't, he'd have left her alone. The days following that assault had been hard for her, but not impossible, because she'd sort of had the upper hand. She'd known what he'd done; he didn't know she knew. And eventually everything had become okay. She'd even blocked away the memory of what had happened. It had been easy. But last night. Geeze, last night! He'd raped her, and screamed at her, and spanked her and pulled her hair and acted like this big, mean, violent man who wanted to hurt her and rape her and who just so happened to be her dad. It had been painful and humiliating. Humiliating! Trembling, the girl gulped at her Mountain Dew. He had hurt her and humiliated her. She, his own daughter! God, please, please let me know what I should do now! the barely pubescent girl prayed. She looked at the screen. At the very top of the page it read, "What should I do if I am sexually assaulted?" Okay, thought the nervous, traumatized teen. She read on. "First," the ASAN website suggested, "find a safe environment, anywhere away from the attacker." Done, Amy thought. Her dad was gone. She was safe, right now. She was alone. "Second," the web-page continued, "Ask a trusted friend to stay with you for moral support." The trembling teen arched her eyebrows up in thought. A "trusted friend"? Amy didn't really trust any of her friends. The girl didn't have any friends her age, and she had absolutely none of her gender. She'd always taken pride in how well she got along with older boys, but she'd always known why they liked her: because they figured they'd get to fuck her. Especially during the last couple of years when her breasts had swelled and her outfits had become more provocative. Friendships like that, though, didn't really lend themselves toward "trust". And she didn't trust any of them, she now realized. Her only "friends" were friends like Shane, friends who wanted to be Shane, so that she'd fuck them. No. There were no friends to call for "moral support". "Get medical attention. Even with no physical injuries, it is important to determine the risks of STDs and pregnancy." Again, Amy rolled her eyes. She definitely had physical injuries (the swelling bruises on her ass, for starters), but determining the "risks" of STDs and pregnancy were simple: there were none. Her dad had only ever had sex with her mom, and her step-mom, and both had been virgins at the time. So STDs were out of the question. As for pregnancy, well, she knew for a fact that her dad had undergone a vasectomy after her birth. She could still remember from when she was very young how Mary had asked him to attempt a "reverse vasectomy", because she'd wanted children of her own. The memory of that still stung, actually. "Remember it wasn't your fault." Amy flicked off the computer monitor after moments of being stunned at those words. The girl stood up, knocking over her chair. She staggered a moment, and then stormed over to the middle of her pink-hued room. She caught the reflection of herself in her mirror and began to cry. She cried because that website had been intended for victims. For people who'd been assaulted. It'd even read, right at the top, "What should I do if I am sexually assaulted?" The girl couldn't help but scream and then crumple to the floor. She went down to her hands and knees and sobbed there, her young round ass raised high and her face pressed into her pink carpet. Her tears couldn't be stopped; nothing could stop them. Because Amy knew that while she'd been raped by her own dad (twice!) that both times had definitely been her fault. After all, the naïve girl thought, I came both times. Both times, I came, and came hard! This all has to be my fault! She sobbed there for a long time. She cried herself silly. Call the cops? Run away? Call a trusted "friend"? All her options were short roads leading to dead ends. She was trapped. There was absolutely nothing she could do.