Devotion

The mist hung like a wet curtain. Thick, grey clouds drifted, punctuated by bare branches reaching out like hard bare fingers. Like his fingers. His fingers touching, stabbing, prying, peeling away every layer of her confidence until only a thin shell remained. A fragile layer of protection against the evil of the world.

She shivers, feeling utterly helpless, the mist laying down upon her like a jealous lover. Like his love, hard and unrelenting, jealous to the extreme. She can still smell his breath sharp and acrid, panting into her face, whispering in her ear. But that is something she can’t think of because it will drive her over the edge. It comes anyway, floating on the wind, harsh and bitter, caressing her cheek with its foul desires. She can feel him then, his hands in her hair, always touching her hair, murmuring into it like a lover. And why not? That is what he is, no? Because he does love her, in his own way, in the only way he can. He strokes her hair, plaiting it in two pigtails to enhance the fantasy. Bound and restricted her hair lies limp mirroring her emotions.

She looks up into the misty twilight and she is no longer there. She is back in the only home she has ever know, back with her Daddy. For that is what he insists she call him even though her real father is long gone.

She touches her long blonde hair, still bound. She shudders as her fingers trace the twists and spirals, fingering the ribbon at the ends. The pink ribbons that perfectly match the sleeveless pink dress and ruffled socks now sodden with the light drizzle falling through the mist. She remembers him dressing her, his rough hands grasping at her, manipulating her, shaping her to fit his fantasy. She moans, a low, mournful sound. She knows he will find her, he always does. It isn’t enough to hide in this park, surrounded by mist and rain and gnarled old trees looming over her.



~~~~~~~~~



Everything reminds her of him. It is dark now, the night sky black and emotionless, all the stars hiding. Just like me, she muses. She has always hidden, in the closet, under the bed. And when he finds her (as he always does) she hides in herself. Hides from the things he is doing to her, the things he is saying, the way he feels, the way he smells, his whole being becoming her world and yet, she hides. But as inevitable as him finding her is the knowledge that there is nowhere she can hide forever. Even lost inside her own mind he still manages to bring her back to the present. Sometimes it is a simple thing that brings her out, a whispered phrase….”Daddy loves his little girl.” His lips brush her ear ever so gently, his hot breath warming skin yet chilling her to the bone. Because he believes what he is telling her. He does love her in his own twisted way. He is completely devoted to her, catering to her every need.

She is a doll in his hands, pliable while he slowly undresses her, removing each item of clothing the way one would savor opening a present they have been waiting for. When she is naked he picks her up and gently places her in  a bath full of luxuriantly warm fragrant water, immersing her up to her chin. She stares at him with a dull vacant expression as he takes a soft cloth and washes her from head to toe. Her eyes never leaving him, he lifts her out and tenderly dries her, shaking on talcum powder because good little girls always smell nice. He dresses her simply, a long cotton night gown, white, trimmed with lace. Pure and virginal, just the way Daddy likes her. Without another word he leads her by the hand to his bedroom and pushes her towards the bed. ‘It is time for a certain little girl to show her Daddy just how much she loves him’ he whispers. With adoring eyes he fixes her limbs until she is reclined on the bed, propped up by numerous pillows. He undresses himself quickly, excited now by the prospect of teaching her exactly what to do to please her Daddy. He moves closer, ignoring her slight flinch and gently angles her head until her pink, rosebud mouth is aligned with his cock. He lets out a sigh as he slowly feeds himself into her, her lips straining to take all of him in, and he is so hard, always so hard. She gags involuntarily, swallowing back the bile that rises in her throat. She closes her eyes and with them her mind, escaping to a happier place where she is not loved, where everyone looks upon her with disgust. For surely this is a better existence than being loved. Love hurts. Love is strong and powerful and degrading and unrelenting. Love comes at night, piercing her heart as well as her body, each thrust taking just a little bit more of her until there is nothing left.

Nothing left but an empty shell, hiding in the mist waiting….always waiting for her Daddy.