Did you enjoy pink ballerina dress?
Did you notice your father had such fetish?
He financed you to best schools.
He was strict at home, keeping your body in thin s**y form.
He was the one who wanted to put the shoes on your tender feet. Wrap
them tightly
Accidentally touching your thin legs.
He forced you to struggle in border of anorexia.
Did you look in the mirror, seeing the ugly fat girls reflection? Did
you refuse to eat so you would look better? Was it like that?
Not for your father.
Your father looked you in every possible practice and show, yet he saw
nothing but the thinnest and smallest little darling, he wished to
hold close and penetrate.
Something so beautiful he had created,
but so willing to taint and force under his power
You and your friends, stretching in those tights.
Into positions what made your orifices so available,
but hidden under surface of thin clothing.
He'd like nothing more but expose his c***, thicker than your arm,
and penetrate every orifice of his beloved child.
Sometimes you could see stains in your ballerina shoes. You couldn't
yet understand what it was.
It was sometimes s****, from your father private fetish games. And
sometimes c*** slime, when your father forced your mother to
m********* with those little shoes.
Watching her tightly closed eyes and facial expressions which made
her look so guilty. So guilty, but even more weak. Adjusting her life
under power of man of the house.
Your father wanted you naked
He wanted you to dance for him.
With slow movements, with calm music on the background.
While watching your movements, he would see the romantic visions, of
you gagging on s****, holding little tummy with both hands, messy
tear blurred wet eyes watching pieces of torn tights.
Traces of s*** and blood, red and bruised orifices.
You're so hungry, but fathers control doesn't allow bigger meal.
You're so scared, and can nothing else but play along.
This is the life you have.
Living doll.
Fathers own toy.
Did you notice your father had such fetish?
He financed you to best schools.
He was strict at home, keeping your body in thin s**y form.
He was the one who wanted to put the shoes on your tender feet. Wrap
them tightly
Accidentally touching your thin legs.
He forced you to struggle in border of anorexia.
Did you look in the mirror, seeing the ugly fat girls reflection? Did
you refuse to eat so you would look better? Was it like that?
Not for your father.
Your father looked you in every possible practice and show, yet he saw
nothing but the thinnest and smallest little darling, he wished to
hold close and penetrate.
Something so beautiful he had created,
but so willing to taint and force under his power
You and your friends, stretching in those tights.
Into positions what made your orifices so available,
but hidden under surface of thin clothing.
He'd like nothing more but expose his c***, thicker than your arm,
and penetrate every orifice of his beloved child.
Sometimes you could see stains in your ballerina shoes. You couldn't
yet understand what it was.
It was sometimes s****, from your father private fetish games. And
sometimes c*** slime, when your father forced your mother to
m********* with those little shoes.
Watching her tightly closed eyes and facial expressions which made
her look so guilty. So guilty, but even more weak. Adjusting her life
under power of man of the house.
Your father wanted you naked
He wanted you to dance for him.
With slow movements, with calm music on the background.
While watching your movements, he would see the romantic visions, of
you gagging on s****, holding little tummy with both hands, messy
tear blurred wet eyes watching pieces of torn tights.
Traces of s*** and blood, red and bruised orifices.
You're so hungry, but fathers control doesn't allow bigger meal.
You're so scared, and can nothing else but play along.
This is the life you have.
Living doll.
Fathers own toy.