Corrupted by My Stepfather

Not every girl has a father like mine.

I consider myself incredibly fortunate. My Daddy has been caring for me ever since my mother abandoned us with one of her boyfriends a decade ago.

Legally speaking, he isn't my biological father. My mother met him during an oil change appointment. I was eight years old then, and we enjoyed nearly six months of genuine family life. Those remain the happiest months I've ever experienced.

Then my mother disappeared, leaving me behind. Daddy attempted to locate my real father, but discovered he was incarcerated. Daddy also mentioned my grandparents weren't suitable guardians.

For ten years, it's been just Daddy and me. Together against everything. Daddy never pursued other relationships. He expressed concern that other women wouldn't understand my primary importance in his life. He worried they might misinterpret his deep affection for me. He cautioned that authorities could separate us if they heard any foolish rumors.

I'm profoundly grateful Daddy takes every necessary measure to keep us together. The thought of being taken away terrifies me. I might end up in foster care or some institution.

I doubt any group home would treat me like royalty. Daddy calls me his beautiful princess and insists I deserve royal treatment. He drives me to daily ballet classes and purchases every toy and lovely dress I desire.

Schoolmates often display jealousy. Daddy explains this is why they bully me. They claim eighteen is too old for pretty dresses and toys. They mock me for behaving childishly since I'm forbidden from dating or attending parties.

My petite stature doesn't help either. Standing just five feet tall with minimal breast development, I wear bras daily though unnecessary. During ballet practice, I go without like professional dancers.