This is a little bit longer, and (I hope) more developed.
“Yes, Daddy?” I tried to hold my voice steady and almost succeeded.
“You’ve made one hell of a mess in here.” I looked around; everything was out of the cabinets, true, but I was in the middle of cleaning. I had accidentally knocked over a can of Comet when I was pulling things out, but I was going to clean that up…
“I’m sorry Daddy; I’ll clean that up,” I offered.
“What do you think that is going to do to the rug?”
“I can wash it—I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t ask you if you were going to wash it, Autumn; I asked you what you thought that was going to do to the rug.” I could tell he was starting to get angry, and I struggled for some way to stop it.
“It might hurt the rug,” I offered as the best answer I could think of.
Daddy glared at me and smirked, “It might hurt the rug? You stupid, sloppy bitch; it’s got bleach in it.”
Oh, god, I thought with fear, this is not going to be ok. “I’m sorry; I’ll clean it up right now.” I offered as I bent down to brush it off the rug so that I could pick it up with a wet cloth.
“No you won’t,” Daddy said as he grabbed a handful of my hair.
I could feel his knuckles digging into my scalp. I couldn’t think. Nothing but fear flooded my head. Without thinking, I started apologizing, over and over until he hit me. Then I started crying. He slapped me again, and then again. Somehow I managed to stop crying, like he wanted.
Until he started trying to pull me out of the bathroom.
“Move your ass, girl; you’ve got another lesson to learn!”
I cried; I screamed. We were going down to the basement. Daddy still had my hair, and he grabbed my arm, hard, so I couldn’t run away. I tried to run anyway, but he just lifted me off the ground a little, mostly by the hair. I accidentally kicked him while trying to get away, and he screamed at me that if I did that again, he was going to kill me.
When we got into the basement, Daddy took me halfway down the stairs, and then pushed me the rest of the way down. I fell onto the floor, and Daddy went back up and closed and locked the basement door. As he came back down the stairs, I tried to get up and run away. I barely evaded his grasp, and he grabbed for me again as I tried to roll away and stand up. I tripped and he kicked me. I begged him to stop, and he screamed at me to come here.
No way in hell, I thought.
I ran over to the other side of the room, and he chased me, almost on top of me. I couldn’t move fast enough to get a lead on him, and he kept grabbing me, my shirt, my hair, hitting me and kicking me at every opportunity. I was crying as I ran almost in circles in the basement, but I couldn’t get far enough away to make a break for the door with enough time to let me get out. I panicked because I was out of breath and getting slower by the second.
Suddenly Daddy grabbed my arm and jerked me to a halt. He dragged me to the wall where his belt was hanging, took it off the wall, and started beating me with it. I screamed and crawled in a circle at his feet, trying to get away. I was so angry at myself for being so slow, half of my tears were angry.
“You’re one stupid little bitch, you know that?” Daddy asked as he hit me. “That was a pretty stupid move, you dumb little bitch!” I couldn’t move anymore; I just lay on the floor and tried to cover myself from the blows as he struck me again and again as I cried and begged him to stop.
“I bet you’re sorry you’re so goddamn messy now!”
“I am Daddy, I’m so sorry!”
“You’re gonna be even sorrier,” Daddy promised.
That did it. I started screaming. Daddy pulled me up and dragged me over to the table. He told me to put my hands on the table and not move. He was going to hit me with the belt; that I knew. What I was afraid of was what he was going to do afterward. I knew that if I tried to run, it would only be worse. Even if I could get out of the basement, I probably wouldn’t make it out of the house. If I didn’t make it out, he would…
I complied and kept my hands on the table, like he told me to. Daddy stepped back and started bringing the belt down hard on my back. I tried to stay still, to not flinch. He usually went easier on me if I did as he told me. As he hit me, he told me that I was a dirty pig, a stupid bitch, a little whore. I kept my hands where he had placed them on the table and prayed for it to end. Then he started wanting answers from me.
“Are you a dirty, stupid whore?”
“Yes, Daddy; I’m a dirty stupid whore,” I answered as he brought the belt down on my back, my legs, my arms.
“You’re a stupid little bitch, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I cried, “I’m a stupid little bitch”
“I bet you’re sorry you smart-mouthed off to me, aren’t you?”
”Yes, Daddy; I’m sorry I smart-mouthed off to you,” I answered as I gasped for breath.
“You’re about to find out what it means to be sorry, you stupid little slut!”
Daddy stopped hitting me. I stood for a moment, braced for the next hit, but it didn’t come. He was intentionally making me wait, to see if that would make me start crying again, make me start freaking out. Moments passed as I waited.
“Take off your shirt.”
“No, Daddy, please,” I begged, “please…”
“TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT, SLUT!” My whole body shook with fear, but I took off my shirt. There was no help coming; being agreeable was the only possible way I had to save myself.
“Put your shirt on the chair, and take off your pants.”
There was no point in begging. He was going to make me, no matter what. Shaking, I took my pants off. Then he demanded that I take my panties off. Again I complied, because there was no way to fight, no way to beg, no way to get out of it. I placed my clothes on the chair, and put my hands back on the table.
“Turn around and look at me,” Daddy demanded. I turned around, but couldn’t bring myself to look at him. He grabbed my hair hard and forced my head up. Instinctively, my hand went to try to pull his off. I couldn’t help it; burning tears welled up in my eyes again, and I started crying.
“Crying isn’t going to help you, you dirty little slut!” Daddy screamed at me as I shrunk back. “I thought I taught you before what happens to lazy, dirty whores, but it seems that you’ve forgotten! Did you forget?”
“It seems to me that you’ve forgotten, bitch!”
“Daddy, please don’t!” I begged. Daddy laughed; it was an evil, dirty laugh.
“Don’t what, slut? Don’t do this?” He grabbed one of my nipples and pulled me forward. “Don’t do this? Don’t do this?” He asked as he grabbed at each of my nipples with one hand and pinched them. “Is that what you don’t want me to do? This? This?” Each time he asked, he would pinch and pull on my nipples.
“Daddy,” I cried, “please don’t!”
“Or is it this,” he asked as he pinched my outer pussy lips, “was it this that you didn’t want me to do? This?”
Daddy pinched me over and over, and I tried to move away, but he held me firmly as he pinched at my nipples and my pussy. He ordered me to walk over to the ottoman that was on the other side of the table, and I tried to get away again, but he had a firm grip on me and pinched me harder as he made me walk over to it. He threw me down onto the ottoman, and I tried to get back up, but he blocked me and held me down by the wrists. He leaned down onto me, pinning me, and put his mouth right next to my ear.
“I’m going to hurt you, you dirty little slut,” he hissed, “and you’re not only gonna let me, you’re gonna ask me for it!”
“No,” I protested through tears, realizing how futile my protests were; it was hopeless. Daddy took one hand off of my wrists and brought it to my pussy; his fingers spread my lips, and I could feel him poking and shaking my clit, a humiliation that made me cry harder. I screamed as I felt something deep in my soul break… he was going to make me do whatever he wanted. There was no point in trying to fight, no point at all, ever. I felt resignation take over my heart. No point. Ever. No one to help me, and no way to help myself. Ever.
“Tell me you like it, you little whore!” Daddy demanded. With his cruel hands able to hurt me so badly, I didn’t dare disobey.”
“I like it, Daddy,” I managed to whine through my tears.
“Tell me how bad your dirty little slut body needs to be fucked!” Oh, god, I thought; no! I was too scared to speak. Daddy grabbed my lips and twisted them, hard. “Tell Daddy how bad your little ass wants a good, hard fucking! Tell me all about your slut nature, you little bitch!”
“No, Daddy,” I begged, sobbing, “please don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me there! Noooooo!”
“You can beg, your dirty slut, but I know you want it! You better tell me the truth!”
“NOOOO!” Daddy let go of my pussy lips and started pinching my clit.
“You’re wet already, just thinking about it, aren’t you, bitch? Beg me to fuck your ass!”
I screamed as loud as I could; Daddy laughed and kept pinching my clit.
“You can’t stop me, slut! Ask Daddy to shoot his load in your ass!”
I screamed again; Daddy dug his nails into my clit, and I screamed even louder.
“You just earned yourself some pain, bitch!” He screamed in my ear, “Let me tell you what’s in store for you! You’re gonna beg me to fuck your ass! You’re gonna go over to that table and bring me back the baby oil and beg me to hurt your ass! When I ask you if you’ve had enough, your answer is NO! When I ask you if you’ve had enough, you’re gonna say, ‘No, Daddy, hurt my ass some more’! Because at this point, you little whore, I’m gonna make sure that you pay for disobeying me!” Daddy was in a rage now. I was scared to hear him, but he was screaming so loud at me that I couldn’t tune out. “You’re gonna pay, slut! You’re gonna learn what happens to little sluts! You have no idea what I have in store for you!” Daddy started laughing, “And if you disobey me, I’m gonna personally enjoy shoving a broomstick as deep up into that pussy as I can get it, bitch, and then I’m gonna make you fuck yourself with it while I watch! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
His threat had me frozen; I struggled to even breathe.
Daddy smiled. “I see you understand, so let me make myself clear! The next words out of your mouth are going to be “Please Daddy, hurt my ass.” When I let you up, you are going to go over to the table and bring back the baby oil! If you fail to do exactly this, slut, I’m going to beat the living shit out of you, and then take the broom and shove the handle as deep up in your pussy as I can. AND THEN I’M GOING TO SHOVE IT IN DEEPER! I’LL KICK IT IN, IF I HAVE TO! Then I’m going to sit back and watch you fuck yourself with it, and believe me, you’re going to be fucking it in for a few hours! I’m gonna make sure that when you’re done, you’re bleeding, you little whore! You fuck up ONE MORE TIME, and you’ll sleep with it shoved in you TONIGHT!” Daddy paused to glare at me; he was still shaking with rage, “Now Autumn, did you have something you wanted to ask me?”
“P…please…please Daddy, hurt my ass with your cock.” I begged, wanting to die.
“Are you sure you want me to do that, Autumn?”
I couldn’t help but start crying again. “Yes, Daddy, please fuck my ass hard because I’m a dirty whore!”
“But if I do that, it’s going to hurt, baby slut; are you sure you want to be punished like that again?”
“Please Daddy, hurt my ass; punish me hard, and hurt my ass like you did before!” Daddy brought his hand back to my clit and started flicking it. “Are you getting turned on, thinking about what I’m going to do to your ass?”
“Yes, Daddy! I want you to push it in and punish me and make it hurt bad…” I was trying to please him, trying to just stay alive, but I broke down in sobs.
Daddy pulled me up and as I struggled to get my footing, he pushed me down to the ground. When I fell, he kicked me, and told me to crawl to the table. I crawled over to the table, ashamed that he was back there, looking as my pussy and ass as I crawled. I got the baby oil, and saw that there was another big bottle, unopened, in a bag next to the half-used one. I didn’t want to think about what that meant. Then I noticed the small video camera on the table; I didn’t know how to tell if it was running or not, but I figured that it probably was since the lights were on. Humiliated that Daddy would get to replay this nightmare over and over at his leisure, I crawled back over to the ottoman where Daddy sat, now holding the belt he must have gotten while I was crawling over and couldn’t see him.
He saw me looking at the belt. “If you behave, you won’t have to be hit. But if you don’t learn, you’re gonna get hurt. You better get used to this, and learn. You’ve got a lot to learn, but this is one of your more important lessons. Now come over here, and hand me the oil.” I crawled closer to him, and tried to hand him the oil; he swung and hit me on the side and back with the belt. “Hold it out in your hand!” I did as he asked. “Now say. ‘Here is the oil Daddy, please teach my dirty slut ass a lesson!”
“Here is the oil Daddy, please teach my dirty slut ass a lesson,” I said, tears filling my eyes again. Daddy hit me with the belt again, making me jump.
“Now go back and try it again!” I crawled back to where I was, and started over to him; he hit me with the belt again. “Go back to the table and start over!”
I crawled back from the table over to him and held up the bottle. “Here is the oil Daddy, please teach my dirty slut ass a lesson.”
He hit me again.
“Do it again!”
I went back to the table and came back again, on my hands and knees. “Here is the oil Daddy, please teach my dirty slut ass a lesson.”
“Do it again!”
I went back and came back again, presenting the bottle and asking him to hurt me. He hit me again and made me do it over and over. After I had done it about ten times, Daddy asked me if I thought I could remember that. I told him I could, and he got up and told me to lie down on the ottoman. I expected him to tie my hands and legs down again, but he didn’t. He just stood behind me; I think he was undressing.
“The next time I tell you ‘go get it’, you’d better do exactly that; do you understand, slut?”
“Yes, sir.” My heart sank; the next time?
“Now tell me what you want, baby slut!”
“Please hurt my ass Daddy,” I replied, my tears burning in my eyes.
“Spread your cheeks and show me where you want to be hurt, bitch!” I reached around and spread my cheeks. “Tell me that you want me to hurt that little ass bad!”
”Daddy, please hurt my ass bad!”
“Tell me you want me to push my big dick all the way up in that tiny ass!”
“Daddy, please push your big dick all the way up in my tiny ass!”
“Tell me you want my dick to stretch your dirty little ass out and hurt you bad!”
”Daddy, please stretch my dirty little ass out and hurt it bad!”
“Say it again!”
”Daddy, please stretch my dirty little ass out and hurt it bad!”
“Say it again!”
”Daddy, please stretch my dirty little ass out and hurt it bad!”
“Say it again, and tell me you’ve been a bad girl!”
”Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out and hurt it bad!”
“Say it again!”
”Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out and hurt it bad!”
“Say it again!”
”Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out and hurt it bad!”
“Say it again and tell me you want me to make you bleed!”
”Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out, hurt it bad and make me bleed!” I jumped as I felt his hands touch me.
“STAY STILL! SAY IT AGAIN!”
”Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out, hurt it bad and make me bleed!”
“When I ask you what you want from now on, that had better be your answer; do you understand?”
He told me to hold my cheeks spread apart, and not to dare let go until he told me to. I felt him push the tip of the bottle against my tiny asshole, then I felt the oil pouring into me again, making me cry harder.
“SAY IT AGAIN! Don’t you dare stop saying it until I tell you to stop!”
I knew it was turning him on, and the thought revolted me. ”Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out, hurt it bad and make me bleed!” I repeated over and over as he filled my ass with oil, as he smeared it all over my little asshole, and then pushed the bottle back up against my asshole to fill me with even more. Once again, I could feel the oil crawling and sliding everywhere deep up in me as I repeated what he wanted, over and over.
“Admit that you’re nothing but a worthless, dirty whore who deserves to be hurt!”
I was shaking with fear as I felt his cock against my little asshole, but I was more afraid of what he might do to me with a broomstick. “I’m nothing but a worthless, dirty whore that deserves to be hurt, Daddy!”
He was trying to push into me. My little asshole, clenched in fear, tried to stop him, but he pushed hard and forcefully, and I cried as I felt it start to spread open. He intentionally slowed down to make me suffer through every aspect of his intrusion into my ass. He pushed until my asshole was stretched wide around the head of his cock, and then he stopped; the pain made me feel like I was going crazy. I wanted to scream, but didn’t dare.
“Do you like that, baby slut?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I cried.
“I’m gonna stretch you nice and wide, bitch! You should see how wide your little asshole is stretched around my dick! I bet that hurts! Does that hurt, baby slut?”
“Yes, Daddy, it hurts!”
“You like it, don’t you? Tell me how much you love having your asshole stretched open wide by my dick!”
“I love having your dick stretch my asshole open wide, Daddy!” I responded, hating myself for cooperating.
“I’m just enjoying seeing your little asshole all stretched out over my dick! I wonder how long until it starts to tear? Do you think your little asshole is about to tear, baby slut?”
I couldn’t help it; I started sobbing so hard I couldn’t answer. It felt to me like it was already torn, and the thought of something worse was unbearable.
“I asked you a question, baby slut! Do you think your little asshole is about to tear open around my dick?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I choked, “I think it is about to tear…” the rest of the words were lost in sobs.
“You like that feeling, don’t you?”
Sobbing, I could only nod my head.
“I think in a few weeks, I’m gonna have to find something to put up there that’ll rip you up, won’t I, baby slut?”
I knew he meant it. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer and lie like he wanted, and I was too afraid of the broomstick to not lie.
“Yeah,” Daddy said, starting to move his cock a little, probably to watch my asshole stretching, “I think if you make one more mistake, you’re gonna find out how it feels to go to sleep with something pushed deep up in your ass that’s way too big, baby slut…” Daddy started pushing slowly into me as I cried, “If you disobey me, I’m gonna tie you down on that little bed of yours, and you’re gonna find out what pain is…” My tiny asshole flared open wider, and I screamed in pain and humiliation as I felt the head of his cock pop inside. “Yes…oh, yeah,” Daddy continued,” I’m gonna enjoy hearing you scream when I push it in deep…” He pulled the head of his cock back out and let it push into me again; the stretching feeling hurt worse, and when his cock’s head popped back inside, I jumped and screamed because of the sharp pain, “…gonna enjoy seeing it tear you open, baby slut,” he tormented me as he forced my little asshole to let his cock back out. He kept talking to me, describing horrible things as he pushed his cock’s head back inside, making sure to sharply thrust the head in to make it hurt more. I was too scared to protest; his threats to me were real; he was going to hurt me bad right now if I didn’t let him hurt me this way, and he was promising to hurt me even worse later…I didn’t know what to do to make it all stop. Daddy could tell how bad it hurt when he pushed his cock in and pulled it out, so he did it again and again until I was in agony, all the while describing how he was going to gag me and tie me up and hurt me, teach me a lesson once and for all. To add to my humiliation, he made me tell him how good it felt, and how much I wanted him to fuck my ass. I tried to comply through my tears, but I think he liked hearing me resort to crying and screaming as he hurt me, because he kept pulling his cock’s head out slowly, painfully forcing my asshole to slowly stretch open and closed, and then back open. Finally, he pushed it slowly into my little swollen hole and left it there while I cried. He made me tell him that I loved how good it felt to have his big dick tear my ass open, and then he went back to describing how he was going to hurt me as his cock was slowly going deeper in me; my pain-filled asshole was splayed wide open, and I could feel his cock forcing me open deep inside, “gonna push up in you while you scream…so deep you can’t get it out! And then I’m just gonna sit back and watch it hurt you! I’m gonna love watching it hurt you, and hearing you beg me to take it out! Ohhh, yeah…” Daddy sighed as his cock sank into me. I felt his hips touch my asscheeks, and then he laid down full weight on top of me, crushing the breath out of me and pinning me down hard on the ottoman. Daddy laughed. “Did you miss me, baby slut?”
I could only cry in response and try to breathe. I wanted to scream in rage, but I was too scared of what he might do. I was still holding my cheeks spread open for him, and I hated myself for allowing him to do this to me. I hated the feel of his skin against my back, hated the heat I felt coming off of his body and warming my skin, hated the weight of his body on top of me, hated the horrible feeling deep up inside me as his dirty dick poked my bowels. And I hated myself for being too afraid to move, too afraid to do anything but cry and hold myself open for him like the dirty whore I was.
Daddy wrapped his arms around me as if he were hugging me from behind, pinning my arms tightly against my body as they reached back to hold my ass cheeks apart. I felt trapped. He held me hard, almost crushing me, as he slowly started to fuck his dick in and out of me. As slowly as he was fucking, he was making sure that with each thrust in, his dick went all the way, making it poke me hard deep up inside, creating a jarring pain that seemed to spread from the bottom of my stomach all the way through my body with each thrust inside. I grunted in pain like an animal as he pushed in each time, and no matter how wide I tried to spread my ass cheeks open, his dick still felt like it was splitting me in two. As he pushed, he taunted me, telling me that I couldn’t make him stop. Making me tell him I loved it. Each jab inside me began to hurt more and more, and it felt like he was pushing into me harder and deeper each time, but he was still pulling it out slowly, making me suffer as every single inch exited my ass. Deeper and deeper it felt like his cock head was punching me…it made me wonder if he possibly could drive all the way up into my stomach. I was crying hard from the pain that seemed like it would never end. I could feel and hear him huffing in my ear and sweat coated both of us as he tried to make the pain last as long as possible.
“What do you want?,” he breathed in my ear. I paused, not understanding. “Say it, bitch, or I’ll kill you,” he hissed.
I jumped in shock, remembering what he wanted me to say. “Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out, hurt it bad and make me bleed!” I said through tears as he punched deep into my bowels with his dick. The waves of sharp pain he was causing as he drove into me knocked what little breath I had out.
“What do you want, baby slut?”
“Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out, hurt it bad and make me bleed!” I gasped, barely able to breathe. The pain was fast becoming rolling cramps, tearing through my little ass. I wanted nothing more then for this to end before I lost my mind, but Daddy was still slowly fucking, with no sign of stopping.
“I’m all the way up in your ass, aren’t I, baby slut?”
“Yes, Daddy” I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything but this. Daddy was going to torture me to death like this.
“It hurts bad, doesn’t it, baby slut?”
“Yes, Daddy” I said, shaking with pain. I tried to think of Paul. Would I let Paul do this? Yes, if he wanted to. For Paul, I would go through this pain, say anything he wanted me to say…
“Tell me how bad it hurts, baby slut”
“It hurts bad, Daddy,” I replied, trying to think of Paul, “it hurts bad deep up inside!”
“Like this?” Daddy asked as he punched his dick in me harder. The cramping tore through my body with ferocity.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, crying, trying to hold Paul in my mind as the pain tried to push him out, “like that.” I tried as hard as I could to imagine that it was Paul’s arms around me, crushing me; that it was Paul’s cock deep in me. I would let him hurt me, let him do this to me, beg him to do it again tomorrow, if that was what he wanted.
“Tell me what you want, you dirty whore,” Daddy demanded.
“Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out, hurt it bad and make me bleed!” I would say that for Paul, I thought. That, and worse.
“Tell me how much you want Daddy’s dick to tear your ass apart,” he ordered.
“Daddy, please tear my ass apart…” I started, then ended in a hard grunt as Daddy knocked the breath out of me again as he started to pick up speed. I tried to imagine it was Paul forcing my ass open and hurting me; tried hard to hold that in my mind as Daddy started fucking harder.
“What do you want?”
“Daddy, I’ve been a bad girl! Please stretch my dirty little ass out, hurt it bad and make me bleed!” I gasped as he drove hard into me. My beaten ass ached, and my bowels were being so painfully stretched open by his dick as it rammed into me that I couldn’t help but picture my ass, already torn wide open and bleeding.
“Tell me how much you love it, bitch!” Daddy screamed as he drove into me harder, his filthy dick battering my ass.
“I love it when you hurt my ass, Daddy!” I said through tears. Think of Paul, I told myself; Paul wants you to call him Daddy…it’s Paul, it’s Paul… It didn’t stop the pain or my tears, but I would do it for Paul.
“Beg me to hurt your ass more, bitch!”
“Please hurt my ass more, Daddy!” I cried as he pounded into me, “Please make it hurt bad!” Daddy groaned as he pumped hard into me, “I’m a bad girl, and I deserve to be hurt!” I could feel his cock getting stiffer inside me; it felt like a huge pole being forced inside, fast and deep. This could end it, I thought. “Please tear my dirty whore ass open with your dick, Daddy! Please make it bleed! Punish me…” No matter how I tried to hold Paul in my mind, I couldn’t help but scream as Daddy started driving his dick in as hard as possible; a long scream that lasted as his dick, now rock-hard, battered and stretched every inch of my tiny ass, stretching my bowels open for him with a ferocity that drove a torturing pain throughout my body.
“Gonna make you bleed, baby slut,” Daddy growled as I screamed, “gonna fucking kill you…”
Daddy cried out as he drove into me hard and deep; I felt a sharp pain as his cock head poked farther up into my bowels, forcing my body to let him in deeper, wrenching another scream from my lips. And then I felt his dirty cum pumping into me deep. I screamed in pain and degradation as his dick jerked in my ass and spat its filth up inside me. No matter how determined I was to think of Paul, I sobbed in misery as I felt his filthy cum sliding in my ass, deep and hot as it crawled and slid. Up inside me forever, along with whatever else he was going to put into me now I thought. As he finished cumming, Daddy fell hard on top of me, once again leaving his dick packed into my ass. My hands ached from holding my asscheeks open, and I let go just as soon as I thought he was probably asleep. I lay under Daddy as he slept, feeling dirty. Dirty from his cum, and dirty from what he had done to me, what he had made me do.
I stared at the wall as Daddy slept, trying to pretend it was Paul. It occurred to me for the first time that Paul might need to hurt me like that, also. Or some other way. If it were Paul, I thought, I would be still in pain. Probably more so, though that was hard to imagine, I thought, since Paul’s cock was much bigger than Daddy’s, he would have hurt me pretty badly just now. So, I thought, I would still be lying here in pain, torn and bleeding; maybe even destroyed and dying. But I wouldn’t feel so dirty. I would be glad I had been able to give that to Paul, to make him come so hard, and would cherish the feeling of his cum deep in me. I would beg him to hurt me, or scream in pain; anything he wanted. Not dirty. Anything—everything—but dirty, no matter what he had asked me to say, or wanted me to do. I tried to imagine Paul doing to me what Daddy had done; the beatings, the torture… I would do it for Paul, all of it. And more, if he wanted.
I fell asleep wishing for my Love, in any way he wanted me.
The rest of the day and night I spent locked in my room. The next morning, my bedroom door was unlocked again. I went downstairs, but no one was there. Both Mom and Dad had gone off to work, I assumed; this meant the schedule was back to normal. I made breakfast, finished my chores, and showered. I cleaned up completely, afraid of getting accustomed to this post-rape routine, and especially wanting to be as cleaned of his filth as possible.
Because I had to convince Paul to make love to me. Somehow.
I tried to remove all traces of what Dad had done to me, and tried to take extra care to look as pretty as I could; my hair was washed and brushed, and I picked something out of my limited wardrobe that Paul had said I looked cute in, but still hid the bruises. I wished I could borrow some of Mom’s makeup, but she didn’t have a lot, and I wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway. Plus, I’d probably get beaten to death for stealing. I did summon up the courage to steal some of Mom’s painkillers, though. She had a huge bottle, and I knew for sure that, unlike her makeup, she’d never notice. One for now, so I could do what I had to do without too much pain from what Daddy had done to me yesterday and one for later. After Paul. I made sure to put it exactly where it had been, with the label turned the same way, in case Daddy kept track of the bottle, too.
I took the back way to Paul’s house, through our backyard, over the fence, and down the wooded hill to the road. The air was crisp and cold, and I was glad in a way for the bruises, because without them, I might not have worn a long-sleeved, hooded shirt. As I came up around the corner and saw his house, I had to keep myself from running. Just like always.
Paul hid the key to his side door under a potted plant by the air conditioner for me; he’d started doing that after only the second or third time I came over. At first he made it sound like it was so I didn’t have to ring the bell, but I’d come to realize that he’d put and kept it there to give me somewhere to go if I needed it. Neither of us ever talked about why I might need it. I’d never used it, even though I’d sometimes desperately wanted to. But my reasons for wanting to use it were different; I would lie in bed at night, tempted by how easy it would be to sneak out and crawl into bed with him…or surprise him when he came home…
I unlocked the door and put the key back; Paul had been having coffee at the kitchen table, but he’d obviously heard me come in, and had just gotten up. I thought at first that he seemed almost surprised to see me, but before I could consider that, Paul had come over and knelt down beside me, taking me into his arms, an offer I gratefully accepted.
“I was hoping you would come,” he said with relief and excitement, “I didn’t think they were going to let you! How…”
My look had cut him short; fear of what he might know filled me.
“Autumn? Autumn—what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I…what do you mean? Paul looked confused; I tried to rephrase it; “You said that you had figured that they wouldn’t let me; what do you mean?”
“”I thought…well, I figured… I thought that Dan would keep you home…”
“Because…because he’s angry at the world right now, because he’s maybe angry at me right now, though he has no reason to be…”
“Paul, I don’t understand!”
“Over the suspension, Kitten,” Paul explained as he took me to the couch, “Why don’t we start from the beginning, ok?”
I understood less by the minute. “Dad was suspended?” I asked blankly.
“Tuesday morning, for a fight he got into Monday; the guy went to the personnel department and filed a formal complaint Tuesday morning, and you look surprised. Did Dan not tell you, or Cheryl?”
“He might’ve told Mom,” I said, “but no one told me.” Because, I added to myself, I was locked in my bedroom, bleeding from the ass after Daddy raped me—the first time.
“What’re you thinking, Kitten?” Paul had seen the look on my face.
“I… Nothing. It doesn’t matter. So you tell me what happened, ok”
Paul smiled; “O-kay, Girl,” he said in a high falsetto, “Let’s gossip!” And he exaggeratedly crossed his legs and arranged himself, preening. I had to laugh, the first time I’d laughed since…since I saw him last, I realized.
Paul laughed at me laughing, and then turned and took me into his arms again. “I love you,” he said as if he was choosing his next words carefully.
“I love you, too,” I promised as I kissed him. As he held me, the fleeting thought that it might turn him on to hurt me too flashed through my mind. I tried to chase it out, not ready for that possibility just yet.
“I was worried that I wasn’t going to get to see you today,” he confessed. “This has had me in knots all week. And not tiny knots, Autumn,” he said, starting to joke again, “we’re not talking the run-of-the-mill teensy knots, we’re talking biiig knots! The kind where you try to pull on one end, but all it does is get the center all tangled,” Paul pantomimed, making me laugh, but I was starting to realize there was something serious behind his play. “…and then you get scissors, but…”
I ran my fingers through his hair to make him look at me, “You were worried about me?”
All of Paul’s animation seemed to fade away, and I fell in love with him all over again when he looked down, bit his lip, and just nodded. He almost looked like he was going to cry.
I kissed his cheek; “I’m ok. And I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Little One,” he said as he brought me close to him and held me tightly, “Are you sure that you’re ok? Did anything…”
“No,” I lied, cutting him short. I was more ok with lying by interruption than having his question asked flat-out and having to lie then. “Everything’s…well, the same.”
Paul searched my eyes as if he didn’t believe me, “I love you, you know.”
“And I love you too,” I said, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his chest.
“I’m…just not sure I believe you,” Paul ventured. “It’s just that…I’ve had this bad feeling all week, Autumn. And I didn’t know what do to about it. I tried calling to talk to Dan on Wednesday, and he wouldn’t answer, and I…”
And Mom couldn’t answer because she was at work, I thought, and I couldn’t answer because I was… I kicked myself mentally. “He might have gone out?” I suggested lamely, “I think he was at the bar for a while before he came home Tuesday,” I offered, putting two and two together before I realized it.
“And you didn’t answer because…”
“I don’t know.”
“Nice try. I don’t believe in psychic crap, but there’s no denying how I’ve felt. But now you’re here, and I’m terrified to let you leave.” His voice broke, “Autumn, I’ve spent all week with the feeling that I was never going to see you again! It feels like it’s been a month, and I…I… It’s been like mourning, or…”
“If you’re so worried,” I offered, “you could take me now and keep me…”
Paul looked like he was in pain. “You know that I would never get to keep you, probably never even see you again once I was caught.”
“We could leave right now…”
“And I would have you for maybe a month, and then never see you again for the rest of my life. And yours.”
“I hate it when you talk like that.”
“Why didn’t anyone answer on Wednesday?”
“As god is my witness,” I said at least partially truthfully, “I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t hear the phone…”
“It rang a long time, and I called back”
“Ok, maybe Daddy unplugged the phones because he didn’t want to talk to anyone at all, not just you. I just don’t know.”
Paul considered this for a moment; it wasn’t completely far-fetched. “Ok,” he conceded, “ok.”
“Now,” I reminded him as I untucked his shirt and resumed unbuttoning it, “if I remember correctly, we were gossiping? Can we finish gossiping in the bedroom, Edna?”
Paul got up with me, laughing, “Ok, so, like I says ta him…”
I laughed as he explained what had happened. What had happened to Dad and, in a roundabout way, to me. Hoping it would make something make more sense. I kissed him as he talked, massaged him, trying to alleviate some of the pain I knew he had been in. He had been worried that I was dead, or gone; that Daddy had come home and packed up the family and left…that something bad had happened. And he was right; something bad had happened. And I didn’t believe in psychic crap, either.
But I did believe in love.
Dad had come to work last Monday in a bad mood, Paul explained. And when Paul took his first break, he went out back to smoke and ran in to Daddy. Dad was raving, Paul said. Someone had taken his troubleshooting portfolio for the part of the assembly he was assigned to on Monday, and Daddy was certain that he knew who it was, someone he’d had words with before, someone he felt was sabotaging him. Paul worked in a different department (information which only illustrated my lack of knowledge about Daddy, and in some ways, Paul; I’d always assumed that they were in the same department, and never thought to ask otherwise, something I would have to ask Paul more about later), so Paul had no way to calm him down, help him out, or run any kind of interference. They parted at the end of break; Paul got wrapped up in something and didn’t take lunch at a time when he would see Daddy, and by three p.m., Paul’s department had heard the talk about the fight. The guy Daddy hit, Paul figures, either actually did do something and needed the time to hide it, or like he would claim the next day to personnel, was too traumatized to think straight until the next day. Daddy got called in, and they wanted to suspend him for a month with no pay. Dad’s Supervisor, Paul, and a few other people heard about what was going on, and went to the personnel department to try to get the month changed into something else; apparently there were some people who thought the guy might have actually done it. They got the month with no pay argued down to a week with pay, pending investigation (whatever that means). When they guy heard that part of the “pending investigation” part meant he would get investigated too, he agreed to withdraw part of his complaint, and Daddy ended up with just four days’ suspension.
“So do you think Daddy’s angry at you?” I asked Paul as we lay wrapped together on his bed.
“If he is, he’s an idiot. Well, we know he’s an idiot, regardless” Paul replied, stroking my hair, “But I did nothing but try to help him. If he’s angry at me, he’s a rabid retard.”
“If he’s such an idiot. Why help him? Wouldn’t it be more pleasant at work for a month if he was gone?” I had to ask; I would’ve loved to have him gone for a month from the house.
“Hmmm… Astute question,” Paul said shyly
“And the answer is?”
Paul looked at me with seriousness. “Well, see, you’ve got to understand my position here, ok?” I nodded in agreement, not sure if he was being silly or not yet. “See, there’s this guy at work. You’re new in town, and strike up a conversation with him on break. He seems like an ok guy. You two hang out a few times here and there, maybe some other people too. Then one day, he suggests skipping the bar and going over to his place. You agree, and go with to meet the family. Unusual wife. Beautiful daughter.” I smiled at his silliness, and pointed to myself in mock surprise. Paul mimicked my surprise and pointed back. “But at the time, you figure it might be pre-effects of the beer you haven’t had yet; after all, you’re fairly famous for completely NOT being into kids. Get me? Ok.”
“I am not a kid!” I protested.
“Bzzzt! I’m sorry, that answer is incorrect.”
“A ‘kid’ is like, two.”
“Possibly from your perspective. From mine, both of you critters are, but we’re arguing over semantics”
“No, we aren’t,” I said, concerned; all I’d understood was the word ‘arguing’. “I’m not arguing with you.”
He kissed me. “I know you aren’t. And I’m not arguing with you. I love you, and I’m mentally redefining ‘kid’ as we speak.”
“You can win if you want,” I sighed exaggeratedly.
“Never. Not even if you begged,” he laughed, “well…maybe if you begged.”
How could I not kiss him? “Are you going to finish explaining why you saved Daddy?”
“It would be easier if you weren’t tonguing my neck like that”
“Tough it out somehow.” I had wanted to smell him and feel his skin for days; I needed the feel and taste of him to block out…everything else that had happened.
“Yes, Ma’am. So you go over a few times, and it gradually sinks into your thick skull that you’re thinking about this ki… I apologise. This…errr…future adult quite a lot. She’s pretty, seems smart, quiet, mysterious, even. And said future adult seems to like you. The first time you touch her—a moment you’ve planned out laboriously for a month prior—she leans into you like a stray cat.”
“You noticed?” I asked, almost embarrassed.
“With delight,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I was walking on clouds for the next few days.”
“I’m serious, Autumn,” he said as he kissed me, “and that’s how I’ve felt after being with you every single day since then.”
“I still don’t get it; so why get involved with what happened on Monday?”
“Because of you. No other reason. I wanted to kill him the first time I saw him slap you, Autumn; I’ve told you that.” And he had. I wondered what Paul would do if he knew about anything else. “I didn’t because I didn’t want to lose you. I thought, somehow, that I could make it up to you. But…the thought of you being trapped with him for weeks on end... While we waited for their decision, I wanted to cry. No one knows that but you. I had to stop myself from talking too much in there, letting them think this was too important to me for any reason. And then I had to wait and wait, wondering if I had said too little, or made it seem unimportant. And what I could do to fix it, every possible scenario. After we heard, I left for a break; I felt like not going back for the day and all I wanted to do was to call you and talk to you, or see you…” Paul again looked like he was about to cry. I was starting to understand, to find something to relate to how he had felt.
“This really hurt you, didn’t it?” I asked, realizing that if he had called, he would have caught me in time. And realizing that I could never tell him what had happened, or he would blame himself.
“Yes.” The look on his face told me that nothing more could be said; he was hurt, felt powerless, felt like nothing could be done. And I understood that feeling all too well. I knew I could always either take what comes, or just die and not care; I was starting to understand how I would feel if it were my lover, or my child, though.
“I promise you that I will stay in contact with you better,” I promised, “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Paul said, kissing me, “whatever happened, I’m sorry, Kitten. I did as best I could.”
I figured that now was the best time to ask. I wasn’t sure how, and I was a little nervous over it, so I decided to just jump in and get it over with. “Paul? Will you make love to me?”
“Do you mean someday, or right now?” Paul asked, propping his head up to look at me.
“No,” he shook his head.
“Please,” I asked, kissing his chin, “I really want you to.” I had already planned for this, and was ready to tempt him into it, “It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot,” I continued as I kissed him. Paul was quiet; I knew he wanted to hear this, and he wanted to do it. Both of these were my foot in the door. “Some nights, the only way I can fall asleep is by thinking of being with you…” This was the truth, but another part of the truth was that I had only the skimpiest ideas of what would happen, or was supposed to happen, or even how he would make it fit. But after hearing Daddy’s videotape, I figured that it could be done and I didn’t care how much it hurt; I wanted to make Paul happy, and I wanted him to be my first. I had even thought about how it would be if it hurt a lot, even worse than what Daddy did, and I had decided that if it was Paul, I wouldn’t mind. If Paul had done to me what Daddy did, if it made him happy, I wouldn’t mind.
”No.” Paul’s voice was finality itself.
But he was willing to cuddle and kiss; I tried to undress him, but he wouldn’t let me get past unbuttoning his shirt. He’d done this before, and I knew why. Paul wanted to, I told myself as I tried my best, every way I knew how, to turn him on so that he had to come. I could feel that he was hard—very hard. My next plan was to tell him to stay when he tried to get up. I let myself lean into him as he kissed me, letting my body rub against his cock…trying to tempt him as best I knew how. Paul responded to everything I did, even pushing his hard cock against me as he kissed me, but he pulled back when I tried to wrap my legs around him. He never stopped kissing me, though. I thought I might have convinced him when he undid my jeans and took them off, but he kept the cock I wanted so badly, the cock I needed to save me, far away from me as he brought his hand from behind to stroke the outside of my panties. I loved the feeling, even though it caused his forearm to press hard against my sore ass, a reminder of why I needed him to make love to me. I let myself respond to him so that he could see how much I wanted him, so that he would give me what I wanted. We didn’t have much time; I figured that since Paul was always so slow about playing, that to actually make love would take him several hours, which was about all that we had right now. His fingers, making gentle circles, touching me through the barrier of my panties was making me very wet. Please, Paul, I thought, please let me convince you!
Nothing I tried worked; we played for a while on the bed, and then moved back to the living room to talk, eat, and watch TV. Paul could tell something was wrong, and my asking him to make love to me had only made him more wary; he knew I was trying to get him to do it, so he calmed the situation down as best he could. I had fun with him, as I always did, but I left feeling like I had failed.
When I got home, I raced to finish my chores before Mom or Dad came home. I had raced through doing the kitchen floor, starting dishes washing, and a load of laundry when I went to straighten up my bedroom. As I was in the middle of that, with my back turned to the door someone—Mom or more likely Dad—came up and closed the door. I turned around in time to see it close shut and hear the lock click. I finished putting things away and dusting, hoping this meant that I’d be locked in here all night, even though it meant no dinner. I kept my light off as it got dark, hoping they’d figure I was asleep, but I read by the dimming light coming through the window.
I heard footsteps outside and stuffed my book under my mattress; the door unlocked, and Daddy swung my door open. He told me to come downstairs, and then walked away. Afraid of not obeying quickly enough, I forced myself to quit shaking and leave the safety of my room. Downstairs could mean a lot of things, I thought as I started down; I glanced at the basement, and it was dark. But the living room was lit, and I assumed that was where he had meant. I rounded the corner into the living room, and stopped in surprise; Daddy was sitting back down and there were four other men in there with him. This was unusual enough to make me stop; this probably meant that I was safe for the evening, and Daddy just wanted me to get drinks and empty ashtrays. They had seen me as soon as I came around the corner, and now Daddy told me to come in the room.
“See?” Daddy said, “what’d I tell you? She minds her Daddy.” He laughed.
The men smiled. One of them, an older man on the end of the couch, leaned towards me.
“Hello Autumn,” he said, “I’m so glad to get to meet you!”
Something about the way he was speaking, or the way they were looking at me, made me feel like I should be cautious. “Hello,” I replied. Saying hello back seemed safe enough. The older man smiled, and I tried to smile back. Then I noticed a younger man, sitting next to Daddy; he was staring at me, almost like he was angry, but he didn’t seem angry. I must have been staring back, because the older man cleared his throat and called my name to get my attention. He started talking to me then, and I wasn’t sure if it was okay to talk back, but Daddy wasn’t saying anything. The older man said his name was Craig, and said that he lived in Redditt, a few towns away; he started telling me about his daughter who was my age, but he didn’t tell me her name. I tried to pay attention, but the younger man sitting by Daddy was still staring, making me feel uncomfortable. After I’d glanced over at him two or three times, Craig stopped talking to me, and looked over. “Scott,” he called. The younger guy, Scott, stopped staring at me and turned to Craig. “Why don’t you say hello to Autumn,” Craig asked.
Scott got up and came over to where Craig was sitting and I was standing, sitting on the end of the cocktail table so that he wasn’t towering above me. “Hi Autumn,” Scott said, holding his hand out. I shook hands with him carefully; he seemed drunk, or sick. The other two men were still sitting quietly, but they weren’t staring the way Scott was. “There,” Craig announced, smiling, “that was easy, wasn’t it?” He seemed like he was talking more to Scott than to me, but then he smiled at me; he seemed nice. “Autumn, would you like to sit down?” Craig moved over more to indicate a spot between him and one of the quiet men, directly across from where Scott was sitting. I looked over at Daddy to see what I should do, and Daddy nodded slowly, indicating that I should sit. There wasn’t much room for me; I ended up feeling like I was squishing Craig and the quiet man next to him, but they didn’t seem to mind. Craig introduced the quiet men as Brian and Tom; I smiled at them, and they smiled back.
Craig started talking to me again, and I tried to keep an eye on Daddy to see if I was answering right or wrong, but then Scott moved forward more, and blocked my view. Craig kept trying to draw my attention back to him, and I felt almost like I was being questioned, or interviewed, even though Craig was being very nice, and even trying to make a few jokes. I tried to not let Scott make me uncomfortable, but it was hard. Then Craig asked, “Autumn, did you know that you are a very pretty little girl?” I looked at Craig, and he was smiling. I didn’t know what to say; no one but Paul had ever told me that I was pretty. I was looking at Craig, searching for something to say when Scott suddenly said “Yes; you certainly are.” I turned to look at Scott, and something about him made me scared. Craig called my name to get my attention, but something told me to get up and try to walk away—right now! I tried to move, and Scott quickly lunged forward and grabbed me. “Oh, no you don’t,” Scott said as he took hold of me. Craig yelled at Scott, and as I struggled to get free, one of the quiet men tried to grab Scott’s arm. I slipped out underneath Scott’s arm, and hadn’t made it to the center of the room before Daddy’s hand closed over my upper arm. Craig shot a venomous look at Scott, and turned towards me, smiling again. I heard Craig tell Scott and the quiet men to let him handle this, even though he was speaking low. Scott turned around and saw Daddy holding me, and tried to grab me again. I tried to pull away as Craig came up beside me and told me to calm down; he kept saying my name with everything he said, and then he put his hand on my shoulder. I tried to pull away from Craig and Daddy and when Scott saw me move, he screamed, “Get her!” and lunged at me. Daddy and Craig tried to grab a hold of me better because they knew when Scott lunged, I’d run, but I managed to somehow get free. I felt like I was fighting for my life. Brian and Tom had gotten off of the sofa and were trying to grab me and it was all I could do to keep kicking and twisting as much as I could. Finally, I twisted sharply to get free, and I managed to break free of all of them for a second, and I took that opportunity to run! I ran out and into the kitchen. Somehow I instinctively knew that I could not stay and hide anywhere in the house; with five of them, they could find me anywhere. Mom was in the kitchen and was surprised enough when she saw me run past that she didn’t make a grab for me until I was already out of the door. I ran into the backyard, and Mom, Dad, and the men followed. I heard them saying, “Get her! Get her!” Our backyard was dark, but I knew the way and ran as fast as I could towards the back fence. Someone got close to me; I could hear and feel their presence behind me, but they didn’t get close enough to grab me. When I got to the tall chain-link fence, I jumped and climbed over as fast as I could. Someone—I think it was Scott—climbed after me, but he was slower. I was already going down the hill in the small forest to the road when I heard them all make it over. They were asking each other if they saw me, but I was walking in the darkness diagonally so that they couldn’t see or hear me. I didn’t want to go onto the street until I got farther down, because they might be able to see me in the streetlights if I did. They seemed to all think I was hiding in the forest near our backyard. I didn’t know where else to go, so I headed towards Paul’s house.
Paul was surprised when I came in, and he could tell that something was wrong. He saw my arm, and asked what had happened. I didn’t know; I figured that maybe I had cut it when I climbed over the fence. I told him lamely that I had hurt it, which was obvious; it was a deep scratch, running from my wrist to almost my elbow. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it clearly had been—it was all over my arm and clothes on that side. He helped me clean up, and tried to get me to tell him what had happened. I didn’t feel like talking; I just said that something very bad had almost happened. Paul wouldn’t give up, though. Finally, I broke down crying, and raged at him. I am not sure what I told him, but I didn’t tell him about what Daddy had done to me, or that there had been other men at my house. I did tell him I had been beaten—just beaten—and that Daddy had made a videotape of it, and that if he loved me, he would help me; he promised that he would help me. I told him that he couldn’t help me any way other than by sleeping with me either before someone else did, or I was dead. Paul made me look at him, and asked me what I was trying to say—had my father tried to do something to me? I broke down crying; I couldn’t even think of a good lie anymore.
Paul held me as he explained our options. Going to the police meant that I would be safe for a little while, but might be given back to them, or would go to a foster home. Regardless, I wouldn’t see Paul for a while. Paul said that he wanted to kill my father, but then we still wouldn’t see each other for a very long time. I told Paul in no uncertain terms what I had secretly wished for for a very long time—that Paul and I could run away together, somewhere far away, and I would never have to see either of my parents again. I didn’t care if they never got caught. Or if they died. Anything, as long as I was with Paul, and never, ever saw them again. Paul asked me over and over why I hadn’t told him any of this before. All I could say was, “I don’t know”. In reality, he didn’t know the half of it. Paul was quiet for a while, and then said that he had an idea—did I know how to get that videotape? I immediately told him no. I didn’t want to go back there, ever. In truth, I was also afraid that if I got it, Paul would watch it and know everything. Paul asked me to think of a way; I knew my house and the routine there better than he did, he said, and if we could get the tape, then he thought his plan would work. I asked him if I were to get the tape, if he would have to watch it. I shouldn’t have asked that, because then Paul wanted to know what was on the tape. I tried to tell him that it was just me, being beaten again. I could tell that he wasn’t sure he believed me, but he finally agreed that, no, he didn’t have to see the tape.
I was still scared that if I went back over there, I would be walking into a trap—what if one of them was home? Paul suggested that he could keep a look out down the street and wait until both of them left; I didn’t feel comfortable with that. If Daddy or Mom happened to see him, it would ruin everything. I explained my reasoning to Paul, and he didn’t like it, but he accepted that I might be right. That made me feel somewhat better, but I was still scared. This would be stealing, and Daddy would kill me if he ever saw me again. Or if I got caught. I would need some time, I told Paul; I had a feeling that it would be in the basement still, but I didn’t know for sure. But, I told Paul, I wanted something in case this went wrong. I think he thought that I meant his gun. I made him promise I could have it before I would tell him what it was; made him promise that he would give it to me right away. He promised, and then I told him that I wanted him to make love to me. Right now. And I reminded him that he had promised.
Paul held me close to him as he carried me into his bedroom; he left the lights off, and kissed me gently as he laid me down on the bed and undressed me. His hands slowly stroked and kneaded my neck, then my back, arms, down my sides…everywhere. His mouth followed without hurry, and I melted into his slow gentle kisses and soft licks. He ran his hands over me until nothing but this wonderful feeling was left in my head, and held me against him as he pet me, licking and gently biting my neck until I was wet and whimpering for him. I could feel his cock against my stomach, hard and hot, and I got even wetter, trying to imagine how it was going to feel as it pushed into me and filled the wet emptiness I felt in my pussy.
Paul reached around me and cupped my ass in his hands, letting his fingers slide in between my legs; as soon as I felt his fingers graze my lips, I my whole body involuntarily arched against Paul, trying to bring his fingers closer, to get him to press them deeper inside.
“You’re so wet,” he growled against my neck as his fingers slid along my folds, teasing the outside of my little pussy, “so beautiful and wet…”
I moaned and whimpered in mindless desperation as I writhed, trying to get his fingers closer, deeper; but Paul would only allow them to tease, over and over as he slid them back and forth. My body was shaking, screaming for more; “please,” I begged, feeling a longing, a deep need that left me breathless and demanded to be satisfied, “Paul, please…”
“Please?” Paul asked as he took his cock and led it to my wet, aching lips, “Please? Is that what you want, Kitten?” I gasped as I felt the tip of his cock against me, as Paul slid the tip of his big knob in circles around my clit, “Is that what my baby is begging for?” I could do nothing but mewl in pleasure, and I arched instinctively against him as he teased me; as he brought his cock around again and again in gentle circles. As he moved against me, I was torn between wanting him to focus on my clit, which throbbed as his head stroked it, and wanting him—needing him—to push that big thing deep into me as his circles around my clit slowly brought him to the top edge of my tight, wet little hole. Paul continued to tease me as my hips rocked with him for what seemed like forever, over and over again in a hypnotizing rhythm that was beautiful torture.
Paul slid his cock head down to my wet entrance, “Or is this what my little Kitten wants?”
I screamed in pleasure as he stroked my little hole with his cock, just outside of where I needed him so badly; I begged him as I came, my hips trying to get his cock closer. The big head of his cock was pushing my lips apart as he guided his cock up and down, teasing my wet little slit. “Is that it, Little One,” Paul asked as he stroked, teasing me in any way possible, “is that where you want it?” He let his cock push just a little against the mouth of my pussy, “Is that what you want?” He was about to start entering me, and the thought made me dizzy; I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, in a futile attempt to hold him still enough to get him inside me. If I could speak, I would have begged him to push in deeper, but I was only able to gasp in pleasure and groan in frustration as he pushed against me and pulled away again and again, talking to me as he kissed my neck and licked my ear. I shook each time his tongue slid into my ear as his cock pushed against me, one orgasm after another rocking me, leaving me trembling and pleading wordlessly for more.
Paul let his cock push into me just a little more and held his cock there, his thick head just starting to stretch my little hole open. I had expected him to pull away again, and when he didn’t, I opened my eyes and immediately met his eyes. I could see in his eyes that he loved me and wanted this; he was obviously as hungry for me as I was for him, and I also saw something deeper in his eyes, an indescribable…love, worshipfulness, even. Any last doubt I might have had about how dearly precious I was to him melted away at that moment; Paul loved me with all of his heart, I understood at last.
“I love you, Autumn,” Paul’s words echoed his eyes, “I love you, and I want you so much… It feels like your sweet little pussy is trying to suck on my cock, Little One, and it’s driving me crazy…” He bent to kiss me as he let his cock push against me just a little more, making me moan into his kiss. “And I know that you want me, that you want this,” he continued as he slowly pulled his cock away just a little and then pressed it back against me, “but I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me that you want it; I want you to give me permission, Autumn.” His cock rocked against me back and forth as he slowly thrust against me, his cock pushing, just on the verge of forcing me apart for him.
“Paul,” I started, my voice a throaty whisper, “please make love to me!” I begged him with my eyes, as I spoke, realizing that he not only wanted permission, he liked hearing me say it. “Please let me have your cock,” I pleaded, rewarded by the flash in his eyes when I said it, “I love you, and I want you…I want you to…please! I want you to be mine!” I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, thought about him, was completely devoted to him forever and ever, but I couldn’t find the words.
Paul leant down and kissed me slowly, hungrily, and I felt the same frightening longing return. I felt scared because I didn’t know what was going to happen, now, or in the future. I knew what I wanted to happen, but the fact that I wanted it probably meant it would never be. I tried to focus on the Only Now, and concentrated on how he felt so close to me. I ran my fingers through his hair, along his cheek, down his neck and shoulders, savoring the feel of him, trying to gather every memory up I could. He was mine; he was going to make love to me, and I wanted to remember everything about this forever.
Paul broke our kiss, “I’m not going back on my promise, Kitten,” he said as he kissed and licked down my neck, sending shivers through my body. He kissed down to my breasts, which he gently cupped and teased with his tongue while I wound my fingers into his hair, feeling as if electricity was charging through each nipple as he sucked. Paul continued lower, until he was between my legs. He kissed the outer lips of my pussy gently; slow, seductive kisses that burned through to my clit. I became wetter as he continued, his tender kisses polite, unassuming, and leaving me trembling with the anticipation of him spreading my lips for his mouth to explore. I gasped as I felt the warmth of his open mouth on my lips, and screamed in pleasure as his tongue lovingly licked in between my outer lips, as if he were licking me open for him. Paul’s tongue licked across my inner lips in the same way, slowly coaxing them open, until he was able to slide his tongue past them easily, into my wetness.
I was so hypnotized by his gentle tongue-fucking that I didn’t notice his hand slipping around my hips, bringing his fingers to my clit. I was so focused on the feeling of his tongue softly sliding into me that when I came, it was a complete surprise; suddenly, my hips thrust up and Paul’s tongue drove into me, its velvety gentleness spreading me as his fingers teased my clit, and I screamed, shaking, begging him to not stop. Paul stayed with me for as long as he could bear it, and then moved up to cover my body with his.
His warmth was amazing. I felt completely surrounded, enveloped by him, and safe, even as I felt his huge cock on my leg moving up, seeking me out. I held onto him, and he spoke to me, soothing me, telling me that he loved me. His cock was gently probing my wet folds, and Paul told me that we’d only do it this way for a moment, and promised me that he wouldn’t let it hurt too much. I didn’t care; I trusted him, and I wanted him. I wanted him to be my first more than I cared about pain; if it pleased him, I would do it even if it meant being in total agony. I wished I could convey to Paul how I felt; if he knew, he would never ever leave me or let me go…I knew it in my heart.
I felt his cock parting my lips; out of instinct, my hips raised to meet him. I gasped in surprise as the tip of his cock spread my lips apart and I felt it starting to push. As he kissed me, his cock slowly pressed inside; it felt strange, but wonderful. As he pushed, he told me he loved me, so very much… I loved the feeling of his cock gently forcing my tight pussy to open for him, loved the feeling of absolute fullness I was starting to feel as his cock’s head stretched the mouth of my pussy. Paul had been right to want to wait, I realized as his cock began to enter me deeper; the entrance to my little pussy felt overfilled, and as he pushed it only got wider. For a moment I was scared, thinking about the videotape, but Paul kept talking to me, telling me that I was so beautiful, tight, and hot, and that he would love me forever, and that calmed me down as he tried to push in deeper. Paul was pushing gently and steadily, but it was getting harder; I could feel him pushing and not getting any deeper. I tried to think about only Paul, how good he felt; he was my love and my protector, and it was ok if it hurt… Paul licked my neck up to my ear; “This is going to hurt a little, Kitten,” he whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry…I love you.” I tried to tell him that it was ok, but his mouth covered mine as he started pushing harder. I tried to think of his mouth on me, licking, and I felt myself getting wetter as his cock gently forced its way deeper. It’s not going to fit, I thought; there’s so much more, and I’m already as far open as I can be…
And then I felt a sharp pain as his cock spread me open even wider.
I gasped at the pain, and Paul stopped pushing. Over and over again, he apologised and thanked me as he kissed me. I didn’t know what to think or do; I was scared, but not…at the same time. He wasn’t all the way in, probably not even halfway. I didn’t understand why he was thanking me, and I was a little apprehensive about how he was going to get the rest of his cock in, much less fuck me. His cock felt like it was stuffing me, stretching me wide, and it hurt. I would take the pain for him, happily even, but…I just didn’t think he could make it fit. I wondered how big whatever they had put into the girl in the videotape was; it couldn’t have been this big…
“Are you ok? What are you thinking, Kitten?”
I looked into Paul’s eyes and didn’t know what to say. “I love you,” I offered. His cock held me wide open, the pain not so sharp now, but the other pain I felt from being stretched so much around his thick cock was still there.
“Did I hurt you too much?” Paul asked, concerned.
“No,” I said dumbly, afraid to ask him if he was going to go deeper, and if it would hurt more.
“Talk to me, Autumn,” Paul prompted, “does this hurt?”
I didn’t want to lie to him. If I told him the truth, I hoped, maybe he could make it not hurt somehow. “Yes,” I said, all of a sudden feeling like I was about to cry, “it hurt just a little, then a lot…now…”
“Just a little?”
“Yes…I mean…” How could I explain it to him? “I love you so much…I would do anything for you… Please don’t be angry…”
“It hurt a lot.”
“Yes,” I said, afraid of upsetting him, or disappointing him, “Yes. A lot.”
“And then a lot more.”
”Yes,” I said, ashamed. I felt like if I screwed this up, he would never want to touch me again.
“I love you”
“I love you, too”
“What about now? Am I hurting you?”
I was afraid to tell him he was, but Paul read it in my face and started to slowly pull out. “I’m sorry,” I said, starting to cry.
“You don’t ever have to apologise to me, Kitten,” he said as he took me into his arms. I could feel his cock, still hard; he must be very disappointed in me. “I’m the one who is sorry. There are things that I could have done differently.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” I protested, “you promised!”
Paul got up on his knees, and moved me onto my side; “Then let’s try this way.”
With me on my side and Paul straddling one leg and pushing my other leg up, his big cock went in a little more easily. As he slowly pushed inside, his hand went easily to my clit; with his fingers circling my clit, the feeling of his cock stretching me so wide not only didn’t hurt, but actually felt good. My breathing got faster as he went, and his gentle fingers were pulling moans out of me that were coming louder and louder. Paul had been right; this position allowed him to go much deeper, more easily. And as he started to move his cock in and out, I was amazed by the feeling of emptiness I felt when he pulled out. And I whimpered in pleasure as he filled me back up. My entire being was focused on how quickly his big cock would fill my little pussy up again, and as Paul fucked, I was breathing so fast that I was almost dizzy. Everything was blocked out but the beautiful feeling of warmth and fullness and the throbbing of my clit as Paul stroked, and I begged him in my thoughts to please not stop. His fingers became more urgent on my clit, and I felt my body tighten, trying to hold him deep in me; Paul cried out, and I came hard, with a force that made my hips rise to meet him. I was shaking violently, but his fingers remained on my clit, pulling out a second orgasm right on the heels of the first. I lay wasted, trembling, as he fucked and teased my clit; I realized that he was even deeper inside me, and that delicious thought pushed me over the edge again. One wave after another came, and I screamed in pleasure when I felt Paul push deeper still. When I felt him come inside me it was what I had wanted all this time, and that thought caused me to have another orgasm as he filled my little pussy with his come. After Paul had finished, I found another wonderful thing about this position was that it allowed him to cuddle me from behind for the rest of the night.
Sneaking back home was easy enough; I’d done it many times before. I checked the side garage window and made sure that Daddy’s car was gone. Mom’s car was always parked in the driveway. Both were gone. I took the key out of the flowerpot and let myself in; Paul was waiting for me back at his house, and I had promised him that I would try to be quick because I knew that he was worried. Since I was closest to their bedroom, I thought I would glance in there first. Daddy had kept the TV/VCR down in the basement since the first time he had raped me, but just on case he had moved it back last night, I figured that it was worth a try. It wasn’t there, but all of the sheets were off of the bed, and on the floor. I pushed any speculations I might have had out of my mind, and made for the basement.
As I walked down the stairs to the basement, I realized why Daddy had locked me in my room for a few hours, and got a little idea of what Mr. Craig, the quiet men, and Scott had been here for. They had been here to hurt me. The first thing I saw as I started down was that there were chains hanging from the ceiling now. And that the brown ottoman had ropes attached again to the feet. And there was a long table by the wall near the ottoman that had all kinds of things on it—a few sticks that looked like rulers of different sizes, a wide square hairbrush, several different belts, and other things; hanging above the table on the wall were paddles and whips. Seeing that made me slow in my steps…had they been planning to use those on me? Other things—furniture—had been brought into the basement, along with some large wooden things that looked like they were from a playground, and a big thing made out of what looked like metal pipes. I couldn’t tell what they were. And Daddy’s two sawhorses were over by his weight bench. A new second ottoman was now sitting across from the weight bench; this one looked like the other one, but it was a red rectangle, not a brown square, like our old one. It almost looked like a bench, or a small bed. Out of curiosity, I walked over to the far end of the basement to look; there were leather straps hanging from steel circles on the wall, and the red ottoman had ropes coming from its feet, too. So did Daddy’s weight bench; and the weight bench also had three leather straps that had been attached to where you lie down—like it was meant to belt down your body, neck, and legs. The worktable over by where Daddy’s weight bench had been was covered with a dark cloth, like it was a dining room table, but there were things under the cloth. My heart was beating furiously as I slowly walked over to the worktable; I knew this had to be horrible, if they went to the trouble to cover it up. As I walked over, I noticed the door to the small utility room was standing open. In the utility room, the tall table that was in there against the far wall for folding laundry had been turned so that the end now faced me. I could see that there were straps attached to the utility room table’s legs also, and a smaller table beside it that also had things that were covered by a sheet. And the video camera was in there, set up on a tripod. I was torn as to which I wanted to investigate first; there was the video camera, and probably the tape, I had come for. But curiosity over what was under the dark sheet on the work table, what horrible things I had escaped, was an equally strong pull. I would just look quickly under the sheet I thought, and then get the videotape and leave. As I walked back over to the sheet, I had to wonder what Daddy had been going to do to me on the utility room table that he had wanted to videotape. Probably something unthinkable. I wanted to look under the other sheet, too. In my mind, I imagined there were hideous surgical instruments under there, and Daddy and the men had planned to tape me being killed with them, just like that girl in the video. And there were probably more horrible things in the utility room that I couldn’t see from outside, too.
My heart was pounding, and my hands shook as I tried to pull the dark sheet up. Then I realized that there were actually two sheets, and there were things on the lower shelf of the work table too—not just Daddy’s tools. I separated the sheets; one was on the bottom, and the other was actually covering the things underneath. I decided to look at the things on the top of the table first. When I lifted up a corner, I saw something that made my breath catch in my throat; more than half of the table was still covered but from what I had pulled up, it looked like the whole table was full of different kinds of plastic and rubber cocks in every shape and size, and other things that I couldn’t figure out what shape they were but they were made of the same rubber or plastic, and two things that looked like a bunch of leather straps connected together, and some metal things, and…
The basement door slammed shut, and I spun around. Craig was leaning against it. He had the cordless phone in his hand, and he started dialing it. Standing by the table, I could see something move in the utility room. I stood frozen, straining to see what it was. Then I heard Craig.
“Dan? Craig. You were right; she came home just like you said she would.”
Scott emerged from the shadows of the utility room.
The bathroom door opened, and Brian and Tom came out.
“Of course,” Craig said, “we’ll be right here, waiting for you.”