Page 1 of Science Project

CHAPTER

ONE

NICOLE

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Dad grunted into my ear, one hand on my hip and the other groping one of my bouncing tits. He pounded ruthlessly into me from behind, fingers digging into my sensitive skin. “You like that, you dirty slut?”

I bit back a whimper and nodded.

After seizing a fistful of my hair, he yanked back on it harder than he ever had and forced me to stare up into the vicious eyes of my own father. Tears stung my eyes. I dug my manicured fingernails into our leather sofa—the same place Dad had watched his work buddies fuck me after he lost a game of poker this weekend.

“You’re a worthless whore.” He spit on my lips. “Say it.”

“I’m a worthless whore,” I said, my voice cracking.

He tightened his grip on my hair. “Say it like you fucking mean it.”

“I’m a worthless whore!” I cried. “I’m a worthless whore! I’m a worthless whore!”

And I believed it, too, because that bastard forced me to say it to his face every morning.

Just like this.

A moment later, he released the grip on my head and slammed hard into me from behind. I stared down at the couch and bit back another sob because worthless whores didn’t shed any tears. Or else they received a punishment.

“You got your shot this month, didn’t you?” he asked after he already came inside me.

As he pulled out of me, I nodded. If I said anything, I feared that my voice would crack and Dad would see how many tears threatened to stream down my cheeks. And I didn’t want to be punished before school. He’d make me do something embarrassing again.

Force me to seduce happily married men and ruin their marriage.

Dump all our trash out and make me crawl through it.

Chain me up to a pole in our backyard, naked and in the cold.

I squeezed my eyes closed and swallowed hard. That couldn’t happen. Not again. I wouldn’t survive another punishment like that. Last time, I’d almost lost my fingers from the freezing temperature.

Once Dad rolled over onto the couch next to me, I slipped off it, grabbed my sweater off the floor, and draped it over my shoulders to cover myself from him. I glanced over at Dad’s phone lighting up on the side table—6:45 a.m.

Only fifteen more minutes with him. At most.

He leaped off the couch and stalked over to me. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

He ripped open my sweater. “These.”

When he looked down at my tits, I held my arms over my chest and averted my gaze. He had seen them, touched them, fucked them hundreds of times and had let his buddies do the same, but this time, there was disgust on his lips.

“I’ve scheduled an appointment for you with Dr. Aldridge. She’s a plastic surgeon.”

“Why-why do I need a plastic surgeon?”

He fondled one of my breasts. “Because these aren’t doing it anymore. You can only go so far with tits like this, Nicole. My business partners are losing interest.” He gently slid his thumb across my chin. “Can’t have that now, can we?”

“I’m getting a breast enhancement?” I whispered, a lump in my throat.

“Yes. F cup or larger.”

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