Love is Nothing

*Some graphic content. Can't help it, it's what the story is about.

"Jessica Hope! Get your ass in here. Don't make me call you again, you little slut!" My daddy roars from his room. I sigh and put down the dish I was cleaning. I adjust the horribly short mini-skirt and walk to him.
"Yes, daddy?" He lounging in his bed, in nothing but a robe. He has this nasty smirk on his face, and he licks his lips as he looks over my body for the millionth time. This is one of his favorite outfits, a tight laced black corset, and a mini-skirt that shows my ass off way too much. I hate this outfit, but that's what he gave me this morning.
"Come here, my whore. I want you." I started slowly walking to the bed. Apparently not fast enough because he grabbed my arm and jerked me to him. "Now, bitch!" He spanked me, and laughed as I whimpered. He rips of the useless little thong and shoves me down on the bed.
"Daddy, please...? No..." I whisper the last part. I knew he wouldn't listen to me. He never has before, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
* * * *
If any of you are wondering (haha, someone actually caring about me? In my dreams...) I don't enjoy this. It doesn't get me off or whatever pervs think to have my daddy use me like that. I've been used for as long as I can remember, both for sex and as a punching bag when he gets annoyed. It started really little, but got a lot worse when my mommy died when I was 7. Since he controls everything from where I work to what I where, it's progressed to the point where he's ordered me to allow myself to be used by anyone who wants me. As long as they're clean that is. He hates the idea of his little girl getting dirty. I don't dare disobey...I still have the scars from last time.
* * * *
When he's done with me, he pretty much kicks me off the bed, and falls asleep. I take a moment to collect myself then I get dressed again. I go to the kitchen and finish my chores there, sticking something in the oven to make for his lunch. I check to make sure he's still asleep, then sneak back to my room. I stripped off my slutty clothes, wincing as it presses against the bruises. I have bruises pretty much all over my body. My daddy buys me the best make-up, so you can barely see them. I didn't put any on this morning. Sunday is the only day I don't leave the house.
Being as quiet as possible, I fill the tub and take a nice, long, hot bath. I breathed a sigh of relief, and the water relaxed my sore body. I love this time. I was never allowed to do this, and hardly ever got the chance to sneak in and do it. But I loved every minute. It helped me pretend that maybe I was someone else for a change.
I must have fallen asleep, because I was abruptly woken up by the slamming of the bathroom door. I screamed and backed against the side of the tub. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did I fall asleep? I forgot about my daddy. He stood at the bathroom door, which was half-way off the hinges, and glared at me. He was furious. He stormed over and slapped me hard, the grabbed my hair and forced me under the water. I thrashed, trying to get up. I spilled a lot of water, but he just pushed me farther down. He held me under for almost a minute before yanking me over the edge of the tub and throwing me to the ground. I lay there, shivering and coughing.
"What do you think you're doing!?" He shouted, kicking me in the side. I whimpered and curled up in a ball. "Did I say you could leave the kitchen? I was hungry, and you were in here, taking a bath! Spoiled brat!" He grabbed my throat and slammed me against the wall. My vision flickered and I groaned.
"I-i'm s-s-sorry, daddy..." I fought the urge to cry. He hated when I cried. He slapped me and tightened his hold on my neck.
"Yeah right. I'll show you how sorry you'll be. Goddamn bitch." He started walking, not releasing me. I stumbled after him, to my bedroom. "Stay still, slut! I mean it." He shoved a ball gag in my mouth and pulled out one of the tools I hated the most. It was a whip with 5 long, thin leather cords. I whimpered, then let out a muffled scream as he lashed it across my naked stomach. I clutched my stomach involentarily, and screamed again as he whipped it across my back.
"I said still! You can't do anything right, can you, bitch!?" He continued to beat me. Tears flooded my cheeks and my throat was raw from screaming when he finally stopped. I couldn't help it, I collapsed. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous, slut. Now go get me some lunch." I reached for my clothes, but screamed again when he crushed my hand. I heard several prominent cracks. "You don't deserve clothes, whore!" He glared at me and I stumbled into the kitchen, clutching my broken hand.
That was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I can't believe I fell asleep. Well, actually I can. It was Sunday, which means I didn't get home until one in the morning, when my shift at the club ends, then I still had to please my daddy and do my chores. I was exhausted, but I couldn't let him see that.
He refused to take the ball gag out of my mouth, and refused to let me put something on. I felt uncomfortable like this, even more so than in my slut clothes, because there was a huge window right in front of the sink. Thankfully, that house was deserted. No one has lived there for a couple years. I was still visible from the street, so I fixed him lunch as best I could with my hand, then begged him if I could go put clothes on. He sneered at me, and made me suck him before I was allowed to dress. He ordered me to put the outfit I'd had back on.
I ran to my room and collapsed on my bed, fighting tears. I did my best to splint my hand with Popsicle sticks and medical wrap. He'd never take me to the hospital, not with bruises and cuts all over my body, but that didn't change the fact I had three broken bones. The corset was hell putting on, but I managed. I stumbled out and curtsied before daddy again. He sneered.
"Enjoy your lunch, whore?" He was referring to making me suck before I was allowed to get dressed. I hadn't eaten anything real in a while. I nodded and forced a smile.
"Yes daddy."
"Good. Do it again, then go greet the neighbors." I froze.
"N-neighbors?" I stammered, glancing at the window in fear. Sure enough there was a white u-haul truck. How did I not notice that before?!?!?
"Did I fucking stutter, bitch?"
"N-no, daddy. I'm sorry." He glared at me, then motioned for me to start. I got on my knees and did as I was told. When I finished, he pulled me up by my hair.
"You were awfully bad today, slut, but you redeemed yourself. You may go put on something else before you go over." I stared in shock. he never let me wear something I chose when I left the house. Like, ever.
"T-thank you, daddy." I bolted to my room and closed the door. I was so scared. I changed quickly, hoping he wouldn't change his mind. I put on my favorite outfit, one of the only things I owned that didn't make me look like a hooker. (This)
My hand hurt worse than ever, screaming in protest as I tried to make it cooperate. I ended up crying again from pain. I completely redid my make up, covering the scars and bruises carefully. It probably didn't matter. If anyone had seen me at that window, they already thought I was a whore. But a girl could dream, couldn't she? When I was satisfied, and fled my room, and stopped at the door.
"Is this alright, daddy?" He looked up and grunted.
"Gross. You don't deserve such nice clothes. But whatever. Now get going. Don't you dare forget to offer yourself to them...I hear they have a teen boy. You love them, don't you slut?" I bit my lip and nodded.
"Yes daddy. I understand." I left the house, suddenly very, very nervous. I knocked on the door, feeling sick. Nobody answered for a second. Please don't be home. PLEASE don't be home. I silently begged. But then, no. I heard foot steps. The door opened and -

"Hello?"