You hardly knew anything of me, just a name. Your mother took you away when you were young, much too young for you to remember. The only other thing you were told about me was that I had been a complicated man. Complicated. That's all your mother could say. Even when she said it, she struggled to get it out, almost like she had a gun to her head. It's clear I had a big effect on her, even now, when I hadn't had contact with her for nearly twenty years. For the few times you asked about me, she could hardly say a thing. She knew plenty about me, you could see it, but she refused to say it, almost like it was taboo to speak ill of me.

You were a proper young lady. Your mother did a hell of a job with you. Smart, modest, proper, well mannered, even well spoken. You stood up straight, spoke softly and with a respectful tone. Your mother busted her chops to get you a good life, and you loved her for that. You hadn't needed to grow up in a broken home, or with a step father who creeped on you, nor mistreated your mother. But in that you missed a key masculine father figure in your life. I'm sure that detail wouldn't cause problems in your future. Right?

Recently your mother had fallen into some financial trouble, falling ill and struggling with medical bills. You already helped her financially, and neither of your savings could provide enough. To make matters worse, neither of your credits were good enough to take out a substantial loan. With you barely into your 20s and your mother having her credits ruined by me, your father. You exhausted all possible avenues, until you found something. I hadn't paid a single cent of alimony, meaning that I had owed your mother a pretty penny. So, you found your saving grace. Or so you thought.

For all your mother taught you, she had shielded you a bit too much. You naively thought that the law would protect you. It all made sense to you, so you thought it would make sense to me. So you figured if you would come to me about it that I'd make things right. At the very least I was legally obligated to, so you had that in your back pocket. Only problem is you hadn't had a clue as to where I was. So, you started to dig. Your mother's mementos. You knew it was wrong, but with her in the hospital you thought it was necessary. You found a lot of stuff pertaining to her and I, but most importantly you found the city where I lived. So, off you were. No time to tell your mother, time was of the essence. 

Upon reaching there, you began to ask about me. A lot of sneers and eye rolls from women, and a lot of angry replies from men. Not a good sign. But you were pointed to this bar, in which you went to wait for me. When you arrived you saw two men fighting. Well, more like one man beating another to near death. Violence always perturbed you, so you never felt the urge to commit it, and always sought to avoid it. Trying to ignore it, you call out my name in the bar. Promptly, the man who was beating the other by the door turned to you, whistling you over, asking why you were looking for him in a confrontational manner.

You turn, shocked, and even a little intimidated. It was me, your father. Tall, burly, grizzled. I towered over you. Clearing your throat, you softly introduced yourself and began to speak about your reason for being here, politely requesting to speak to me in private. My eyes go up and down your frame, a low grumble sounding out before I agreed. I said that my cabin hadn't been all too far, and that we could speak about matters there. You agreed. 

My truck was gross, and repulsive. The upholstery was vulgar, you felt totally out of place here. But as always, you remained respectful and proper. As we drove you realized just how far it was, and how deep in the woods we were going. Quite literally in the middle of nowhere. To make matters worse, you could see your phone lose service. No service out here. Oh well, you thought nothing of it. You'll talk to me and we'll discuss how I plan to pay it. Less than an hour, maybe a couple.

Upon arriving, you could see my cabin. Homey isn't quite how you'd describe it. You felt out of place here, and it definitely wasn't where you'd want to live. It was getting quite dark though. Entering in, you made a strained and forced compliment on my home, despite the vulgar and deviant way of living. You opened your mouth to ask where I'd like to discuss it, but I rudely cut you off.

"Listen. You see this? This is my truck keys. You know, the one you couldn't stop scrunching your nose at the entire ride here."

I slipped it into my pocket, deep inside.

"There's nothing out here for miles. You go out that way, or that way, or that way, or even that way, you'll die quicker than a fish out of water. If the animals don't get ya, the starvation will. If the starvation doesn't get ya, exposure and disease will. So really, you got only one choice."

I shrugged.

"See, I don't give a flying fuck about your ran through mother or her problems. But you though, when I saw you walking in the way you do with a clear 'I haven't been fucked by a real man' look, I knew what I wanted. And with an ass like that... fuck... I know a proper lady like you never took it up the ass.."

Little did I know, you never took it anyway. You were waiting until marriage. Or so you intended.

"So the way I see it, you got two options. You either leave in a couple days with nothing more than a sore bum and the feeling of being stupid. Or you can leave here in a few months, or whenever I feel like it, with bruises, concussions, a few broken things, torn clothes, and a feeling of knowing how easy it could've been. So, what will it be?"

If only your mom told you a little bit more about the man I was. You really felt like a bunny in the wolf's den. You sigh as you reach for your top, a couple days it is... 

"Like a Bunny in the Wolf's Den..." Father Daughter Non/Dub-Con Plot