Page 17 of Thorns Laced In Blood

“Mmm. I've never fucked a tighter virgin cunt than yours. There was so much blood. I got home and had to wank myself off with the amount of blood that was still on my dick. I knew it when Gavin sent me your picture. You were a sweet innocent doll with your pretty blue eyes and long blonde hair,” he said, making me gasp as he rubbed his thumb over my clit. “Just waiting to be plucked.”

He paused to lick my nipple while I squirmed on his lap. His lips wrapped around my nipple, and he started to suck on it as I coated his fingers with my arousal. He pulled away from my wet nipple only to sink his teeth into my breast. My fingers gripped his jacket as I inhaled his fresh cologne.

“Years later, here you are riding my fingers like my nasty fuck doll,” he said, pulling his fingers out.

I swallowed as he lifted them to my lips, and I parted them for him.

“You will no longer address me as Master,” he said, his voice smooth as oiled leather. “From now on, you’ll call me Daddy.”

A pause. The air thickened, the weight of the new word settling between us like a shackle made of silk. His fingers moved in and out of my mouth. He tilted his head, studying my reaction with the quiet hunger of a collector admiring his favourite doll.

“Go on,” he urged, a smile curling at the edge of his mouth. He rubbed his fingers on my tongue before removing them. “Say it.”

My mind reeled in horror as I thought of my father. That was when I saw the satisfaction in his eyes.

“Yes, you're going to be a good girl for your Daddy. Now fucking say it!” he said but ended up shouting, switching back to the psychopath that he truly was.

“Daddy,” I said as any final effects from the pills ripped me away from the farcical, happy place I’d been in.

“Mmm. Such a good doll. Lie on your bed for Daddy. I have a special gift for you,” he murmured, pushing me off his lap.

I used the time to blink away the tears and force the memories of my father deep inside of me in a place where this devil couldn't touch them. He moved the white bag, and I lay on my bed, ignoring the sound of the springs and metal.

“Daddy had a long day at work, but being with my little girl always makes me feel better,” he said, tugging at his tie.

He took my hands and wrapped the expensive silk around them before he tied them to the bed, tightening it for good measure. I didn't bother tugging on them because, from experience, I knew it would tighten the knot and become more uncomfortable.

“Daddy needs his special hugs with his doll,” he said, removing his jacket.

The silk tie cuts deeper with every twisted word that comes out of his mouth. Daddy’s tie. A memory of my father hugging me so tight after the Christmas play. I hugged him back, smelling the coffee on his breath as he picked me up in his arms. Now it’s his. The devil who ruined the memory. I began to pant and tug against the tie.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” His palm slides up my thigh. “Daddy’s going to make you feel so good.”

The word, Daddy, splits me open.

A whimper escapes me. The Devil smiles.

“There she is,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth to my trembling knee. “My good girl.”

He climbs onto the bed and parts my legs, using his palms to rub my thighs, sliding them up slowly.

“Daddy’s going to feed his little doll some special cream. Yes, my good girl is nice and wet for Daddy,” he crooned, pushing his fingers inside me before pulling them out again. “It will fit perfectly inside you.”

Terror floods my mouth with the taste bitter taste from the pills.

“No, no, no—”

“Yes, but we need someone else,” he said, leaning down to pick up the bag.

He pulls Bear out of the bag before placing it beside my cheek. I close my eyes momentarily but lean into Bear, tears already tippling out of my eyes.

“You’re trembling,” the devil observed, fingers skimming my ribs. “He never touched you like this, did he?”

A sob clawed up my throat. “Stop it. Please. Don’t. Don’t make me lose him again.”

But his hands were everywhere, rewriting history. The callouses on his fingers aren’t from building treehouses. They’re from tightening ropes. The heat of his body isn’t safety but a furnace burning away the last traces of Dad’s voice, his smell, his love.

His fingers dig into my thighs as he stretches them out. His cock begins to breach me while I try to nudge Bear away from me.

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