Dark Star, The Fifty-Third Chapter – Mending

I know it’s here somewhere, hidden amongst the cleaning supplies and Daddy’s special hunting equipment. There, at the back of the cupboard behind the boot liners and cable ties…. an old re-appropriated biscuit tin.

I choose the bestest cleanest looking ones from the assortment in the tin. They’d clearly collected them over the years. These were people that made-did and mended, stuffing the farm cottage cupboards full of “just in case” things. In case of little accidents, just like today.

“I didn’t mean to.” I tell her this as I fix her up. Big plasters for each of her weeping eyes and one for her broken lips.

“I didn’t mean to…” part apology, part defence. I wrap some bandages around her broken arm. It covers up the unsightly bone sticking out from the skin. Much better, much cleaner.

I didn’t mean to. I just kind of forgot that she was a little bit breakable.

Maybe it’s not my fault? Maybe if she wasn’t so breakable this wouldn’t have happened.

It’s not my fault, my other toys don’t break so quickly as that. When I teach the little plastic animals their flying lessons in the barn they’re always intact when I pick them up from the ground. They never complain, hurting my ears like she’s doing now.

“Stop it,” I plea, “You’re making the plaster all bloody and it won’t stick!” She needs to stop using her mouth so I can fix her up all better. Daddy puts plasters on my boo-boos and then they go away. She just has a lot of boo-boos.

“You need more plasters. Plasters make it all better. Daddy says so.” I explain, nodding furiously. I dig around in the tin for more but there are only little ones, the teeny ones Daddy puts on my heels when new shoes rub. They will have to do.

One by one I stick them over her face, creating a patchwork of fake skin tones. I work fast but not fast enough to counteract the impact of her jaw moving, deep pained wails that are making it much harder. Stupid dolly, doesn’t she know I’m trying to help? At least she can’t move, her legs bent at an unnatural angle are working to my favour.

I’ll plaster and bandage her up all better and Daddy will never need to know that I broke another one. He’s tried to teach me to be careful with my toys, keep them nice so I can keep them longer and I do try but they’re just so weak and stupid sometimes.

Why do I have to look after them?

Why do I have to learn how to care for them?

Why do we need a whole flock?

Maybe it would be better just Daddy and me… If he looked after me and I looked after him and that was it.

I hush the grumbles, drowned out by the cold shudder that accompanies the knowledge “Daddy knows best.” Daddy wants me to learn and right now I’m being a good little nurse.

When we play vets with the animals Daddy shows me how you can cut and slice and dice them and they’re OK after, better even, modified to fit our needs. This is just like that, except she’s even more useless now. Stupid dolly, she’s going to get me in trouble.

I can’t get in trouble, not again. I have to be good, everything’s OK as long as I’m good.

I quell the panic with a plan. A genius little plan of simplicity. One that implicates more of the stupid animals instead of me. It’s lucky I’m so much smarter than they are.

It works.

I knew it. I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist.

They were cautious at first, sniffing around her wailing body, flinching at the blood-curdling sounds from her distorted mouth, the sticky plasters doing little to prevent the caterwaul.

The one that forced his mouth over hers. Was he doing it to shut her up, or to create some intimacy, some closeness congruent to the act to follow? Was the pitiful beast so well trained in the steps of formulaic foreplay that kisses must precede the hard cock now rutting inside of her?

Regardless, the screaming is drowned out as the others move in, encouraged by the ease of access of their pack brother. The sight is glorious, their animal passion stirs my own, my hand creeping down into my panties.

The studs do as they have been bred to do. Silly beasties, spreading your seed in all those different holes, no wonder the flock is failing to breed as Daddy would wish.

Perhaps I should tell him? Perhaps I could help him train them better?

Excited at the prospect to help Daddy, to show him that I’m a good girl I bounce up, barely flinching at the crunch of bones from the pen below me.

Now they feed.

But wait… how will I explain how I know? Curses!

I don’t have time to formulate my answer before Daddy bustles in, bringing the scheduled feed on top of the amuse bouche I provided.

Standing stock still doesn’t stop him seeing me. “Blade” he demands, “what are you doing here?”

“Looking for my dolly Daddy.” I explain, crossing my fingers behind my back and swinging from side to side innocently.

He smells the blood before he sees it. The bulls have slunk back to their beds on the far side, satisfied with their fill. The girl is a decimated pile of leftovers. Daddy smells the blood and moves towards me, still sniffing.

My stomach flips, a cold dread prickling all the way up to my ears. He’ll smell her on me.

“Maybe she’s in here?” I question, throwing myself over the fence and deliberately landing close to the slowly drying sticky puddle before Daddy can get close. “Dolly…” I mock call, pretending to wait for an answer.

“Ewwww…” my acting extends to finding the remains, tacky under my feet. I reach down to cover my hand in a slick of her innards. There, now he’ll never know.

His face darkens, “What has happened here?” muttered under his breath.

As he approaches the fence I feel the boy studs recoil, fearful and for good reason. They’ve learnt, these ones learned fast. Daddy and his special medicine, Daddy and his scalpels, Daddy experiments that hurt. One day they’ll realise it’s for their own good, so they can benefit the farm, play their part. Cows taken for milk and beef don’t complain, they know their place.

I tut in their general direction, attracting the attention of an otherwise distracted Daddy. Having vaulted the fence too, he’s pulling something from the wreckage, it might have been sparkly once, before drenched in dark tar blood.

“Dolly’s tiara.” I confirm. “There she is!” Before catching myself, no wait… how should I act? Upset, I should be upset. I start to sob, burying my face in my hands, fingers wide enough to watch his expression. “She must have escaped.” I explain, “I only left her side for a second. Oh no… my dolly! Oh I shall miss her. Naughty beasts, naughty, naughty beasts!”

“Oh.” That’s all he says. Just “Oh.” Picking up remains of plasters from the floor and turning them over in his bloody hands.

He looks up to me pained, confusion fringing his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s OK my darkling, you can go now…”

I take the dismissal, scampering away into the yard, ready to skip my way back to my room and to the intact toys that live there. I mended her, I mended dolly good, I mended Dolly and now Daddy will never know. I smile at my little secret, confident in my deceit. Daddy will never know. I mended it good.

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Dark Star, The Fifty-Second Chapter – Dressing

I flick through the clothes on the rail. They’re all the same, mostly. A frumpy sea of greens and browns.

When Daddy asked for a “whole outfit”, does that mean just trousers and a shirt? Or a jumper too? I want to get this task right, I want to be good. I grab all three, in varying shades of boring and hurtle down the stairs back to him singing, “Daddeeee, readeeee!”

Today we’re making something special for the farm. Something Daddy says we need if we’re going to be proper farmers. Daddy is ever so clever; he knows how to work all the machinery and how to keep animals, showing me how to feed and clean them, preparing them for slaughter, ready to be our meat.

One of the animals was naughty though, he wasn’t obedient like the others. He refused to remove his clothes. Silly beast. Animals don’t wear clothes. It made him look so silly in the pen with the others, desperately trying to hold onto his modesty.

Now Daddy has to teach him a lesson.

“If he wants to wear clothes, Blade.” Daddy says, winking at me as he hurls the hessian sack over his shoulder. “He can at least be useful about it!”

I have to trot quickly to keep up with Daddy’s pace. He’s happy here. He likes the sunshine and the outdoors. It gives him colour in his cheeks and a renewed energy.

Energy that he channels into the physical work of the farm and into teaching me. It shows in how his muscles have grown, skin tanned from being outside, defining his shape. It shows in the swelling on my face, beautiful bruises that show my Daddy loves me.

The sack only starts squirming and moving once we get to the field past the barn. Daddy dumps it down and gives it a swift kick, barking in his loudest voice, “Hush!”

It works, the sack stays silent. It doesn’t move an inch all the while Daddy is fixing the cross, the cross Daddy carried all by himself, all the way up to the field this morning. He’s so strong, carrying the heavy wood that is twice his size.

It’s quite a big structure, dark wood held together by big nails that Daddy hammers in. I watch him work from the shade, crouched down by the side of the field, shaded by the growing corns. It distracts me from watching the woodlice busily businessing around, always in a hurry.

It’s so quiet here. Just the sound of birds and bugs. We’re miles from anywhere. From anyone. Our peaceful, tranquil haven.

I frown at the sound of the silly animal threatening to spoil the tranquillity. He starts his whining as soon as Daddy pulls him from the bag, gasping in enough air to give him his voice.

I practically feel the weight of Daddy’s fist against his jaw and it makes my girl parts clench. I see that dark look flicker across Daddy’s face as the flesh connects and I want it. I want it close to mine.

It’s gone in a flash, gone with the boy’s consciousness, slumping quiet into Daddy’s arms. Gone before my creeping hand can find its way into my underwear to relieve the ache that’s begun.

Daddy distracts me, “Blade, bring over those clothes.”

I scurry the bundle over to him, helping Daddy dress the drowsy fool, the larger clothes pulling easily over the ones he so adamantly refused to part with. The boy’s daddy was a big fat heffer, good for steaks, Daddy said.

Daddy props the body against the cross so I can step back to assess our work. The shades complement each other beautifully, as anything in that musty old wardrobe would have done. I wonder when the old man had last gone shopping or where you even buy clothes like that.

“Hmmm.” I ponder in a half whisper, “It’s missing something… Oh, I know!”

Daddy turns to me with a smile, quick to encourage my creativity, “Please my little darkling, whatever you think will look right.”

I falter, dancing from foot to foot before I move to check that I may. “He’s your dolly to dress.” Daddy offers, gesturing toward our little project.

“Back in a minute Daddy! I’ve got the perfect thing!” I gleefully turn towards the house, taking the field in large skipping strides. I’m barely out of breath this time as I reach the far edge by the barn. Daddy says I’m getting stronger every day. Strong like him.

Focusing on my task, I race onwards to our new home. I’d seen the hat when we’d taken the house, popped up on a peg, ready for the wet weather no doubt. The green waxy material feels smooth under my thumb. I hold it up to the sunlight pouring through the window of the cottage, turning it this way and that. Yes. This is perfect.

I hear the wails long before I get back to the field. Daddy is still working on our project, demonstrating his dedicated work ethic. I recognise the pitiful plea, my new mannequin is awake again.

Excited to see the progress I bound my way back, weaving around the barns and stables, keen ears picking up on the murmurs of our growing menagerie. Finding the path across the field, I run back to my Daddy as fast as I can.

Daddy is pleased with the hat, giving me a big beaming smile and scooping me up to place it on his head, the body firmly held in place with the same big nails Daddy used for the cross. “Perfect. Now you see Blade, this will help keep the birds away.”

“Oh I see!” I exclaim, “because he’s making so much noise they’ll be too scared to come and steal our crops!” I plant a big kiss on Daddy’s face; what a good idea.

Daddy chuckles, “Well yes, my precious girl but actually, our new scarecrow will keep scaring away the birds, even after he goes quiet. Isn’t that clever?”

My wide-eyes give away my disbelief, “But how Daddy?” I query, ready to listen to his explanation, one he begins in earnest and I try to listen, I do, I want to know what the birdies think but with the wind changing suddenly the smell hits me.

The scarecrow has another use, he’s bleeding, bleeding hard from his fixing points and it’s waking my beast. A beast that’s awoken hungry.

Daddy feels my shift, my attention diverted, he feels it in the bucking of my hips, he feels it and responds, propping me against the scarecrow, never letting up on his lesson, still telling me of the birds and the reasons, even as I drink from the wounds, even as Daddy pounds hard inside me, my underwear ripped from me and littering the field. The clean white quickly spotted with blood, dripping from our sobbing scarecrow.

I gather them up when I’m finished, after Daddy drops me to my knees to clean him. I hold them tight in my little hand and look back up at the scarecrow, weak and barely whimpering now.

Inspired I pull Daddy close and whisper in his ear, an idea of my own. One that makes him beam, holding my face and declaring me to be even more clever than he. “This is why I teach you Blade, so you can go on to be more successful than I, I teach you so you can make me proud. Yes, of course, my very clever girl, that’s a wonderful idea. You can even choose the clothes if you like, find another perfect hat!”

Chest puffed out I take his hand as we wander back to the cottage, Daddy excitedly planning the logistics of my suggestion. “We can do that!” He promises. “It makes sense, we don’t want to have to keep replacing them when they rot down. My clever girl… I was so quick to teach him a lesson I perhaps used him up quite quickly… of course… our next scarecrow can be our forever scarecrow. We’ll fix them in place permanently, keep them shouting to scare the birds. I’ll find a way.”

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Protected: Babygirl’s Treat – A Storyboard Collaboration with Twitchet

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Protected: Daddy’s Home – A Storyboard Collaboration with Twitchet

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Dark Star, The Fifty-First Chapter – Gathering

The hay is scratchy through the material of my dress but I barely notice, mesmerised by the pretty girls dancing around the pole. Wrapping their ribbons this way and that. The fair buzzes around us, children laughing, pelting through the stalls and around the legs of adults drinking the all-important real ale and having conversations that burst into raucous laughter at the drop of a flat cap.

This is the nearest village, the one with the cosy pub and only store for miles around. Today is their May Fair, my first real fair and it’s so very exciting.

They’re starting to know us now, although it doesn’t worry Daddy like it did in the big cities. We tell them very little. I’ve learned that’s important. “No matter what they say Blade, just smile like a good girl.” So I do, I twirl my dress and I nod along to whatever they’re saying.

I don’t tell them where we live or what we do or how we came to be. But I do shake my head in mutual disapproval when they say, “That farm up the way, they used to bring their wares, you know… but how rude, they wrote us to say they don’t supply to us anymore. Tsk tsk.” I pretend to understand when they say they all shun them now based on letters received just after we arrived here.

“Two can play at that game.” The lady behind the till told me one day, shortly before slipping me a wink and an extra chocolate mouse in the paper-bag of goodies.

The kitty cat we adopted begged for them so prettily. They do that when mice are the only meal they can scavenge. “Like proper farm cats!” Daddy told me.

The lady waves at me as we pass, having set up a stall from her shop here in the field full of joyous celebration. There are lots of faces I don’t recognise too. “They come from the villages all around Blade.” Daddy whispers to me. Daddy knows so much.

I gaze up at him adoringly and almost walk full pelt into the nubile young thing in denim shorts. She’s dancing around in a circle of clones, the only difference the shade of plastic flowers in their hair.

“They come from all around,” Daddy explains, “for this…”

Gesturing at the handsome stage set up at the bottom of the field. It’s impressive, looking oversized in the humble field, with stacks of expensive looking equipment pushed to the side of the stage.

Right now there’s a solo singer and his guitar crooning into the microphone but it’s early still, not even the afternoon. I wonder what’s planned for later, who will put all the fancy amps to use.

Daddy pulls me to the side, under the shade of a tree and onto his lap. He speaks softly, directly into my ear. I listen intently, pretending not to be affected by his hand moving underneath my dress and wrangling my panties to one side.

“We’ve stumbled onto a gem my darkling… shhh now… don’t let them know, Daddy’s little secret… What we have here is an annual event, one that should be a tiny little village celebration, except of course, that every year, the band that made it big come back to play their home town.”

I squirm as he pushes rough fingers into the folds of Daddy’s flower. I don’t buck though, desperate as I want to. I keep my face calm. My dress spills out in a wide circle over my knees disguising the motion of Daddy’s hand inside of me.

“Thank goodness…,” he smiles, “for their misguided desire to stick to their roots.” He bites down gently now, making it look like a sweet kiss on my neck. A kiss with teeth.

“Thank goodness…” He laughs, “for the girls that follow them in flocks! Tonight my sweetness, those flocks become ours.”

A gasp from me gives away my closeness. “Wait.” He instructs, “….hold it.” Withdrawing too quickly and denying my release. “Not yet.” Daddy winks at me. “We have so much more fun to come.”

The fair provides all manner of innocent entertainment, hooking ducks, smashing plates and various shows provided by the local schools. The weather blooms into glorious afternoon sunshine, lubricating the alcohol flow and encouraging exposed skin, turning gently pink. Daddy keeps me in the shade mostly, watching, licking on ice lollies and sampling from the baking competition.

I’m confused when Daddy leads me away before the main event, as the field gets increasingly flooded with the same brand of teenage girl, all eager rampant hormones. The clothes get skimpier as they get older, much to the dismay and tutting of the village elders who slip away to the pub when the music begins to creep up.

“Why aren’t we staying Daddy? I like the music. I want to seeeee.” I complain, quick to correct myself. “Please, sir, if we may?” He simply shakes his head and continues on the path.

I recognise where we’re headed, it’s the same campsite we’ve been to before, the only one for miles around with occasional opportunity for play-friends. Daddy finds them, the drifters, camping on their own, the ones that won’t be missed. My Daddy could charm the birds from the trees if he chose to.

I recognise the entrance but I don’t recognise what lies within, there’s a whole other party here, tents fill the entire field, for as far as the eye can see. Music blasts from various points, the music lapping over each other like walking through a festival. Their inhabitants must be at the fair, besides the few crashed out under gazebos and tucked away in tents.

“This Blade, is where we gather our flock.”

I clap with glee. Daddy has done to so much work to prepare the studs, the bulls to breed our little farm. I’m eager for the patter of tiny paws, for baby animals to care for. Daddy has prepared me; it will be a lot of work, a lot of TLC for the animals. “Rearing isn’t for the faint hearted” He’d warned me, “You’ll have to be careful with them, not like your toys. These will be our livestock, our future.”

Confused I turn to face him, “But Daddy,” I query with innocent eyes. “How will we fetch them? We have no supplies, no rope, no shackles. How will we make them come?”

“With this, my sweetling.” He explains, opening his bag to reveal rows of little teeny plastic baggies with rocks of varying sizes filling them up.

“Love potion!” I exclaim. I remember this, I remember this from the city. Oooooh, this is exciting. This is different from usual, a new approach. Persuasion rather than coercion.

Sweeping in with the charm offensive Daddy finds an older girl with a big cigarette that smells funny hanging from between her fingers, she looks like she might be sleeping, slumped in the chair. That is until she pulls it to her mouth and takes a drag. She engages with my Daddy, of course she does, and she seems very interested in what he’s selling.

“Yeah fam,” I hear her begin, “We’ve been here for a few days ready for the gig, stocks are bare low. I know peeps that will buy for sure.” Without dismissing him she takes to her mobile, attached to a square device presumably to keep her connected out here in the sticks. She uses a vernacular I barely understand but manage to gather from context that we should wait.

She’s quite pretty really, with supple smooth legs and porcelain skin under the crochet top that barely covers her modesty. She finally removes her sunglasses to allow Daddy close enough to kiss her. She makes eye contact with me first, encouraged by my nods and smiles.

We don’t bother to move inside to privacy, the campsite deserted as it is and the warm sun turning tents into saunas at this time of day. Daddy continues to kiss her, tugging gently at her nipples, easily freed from the flimsy top. With a nod of consent I begin kisses up her thigh, she’s very open, keen to encourage us both. She even pulls her skirt up to allow my access, soft kisses where her underwear should be. She moans quietly, clearly accustomed to this kind of encounter, she’s barely phased at these strangers and their advances. I wonder if Daddy’s little sample is helping.

He provides a little more, a tiny white wrap with a tail that doesn’t even touch the sides. Her enlarged pupils engulf me as she pulls me in for a passionate kiss, one hand firmly under my jaw and the other attempting to free Daddy from his jeans.

I help her, like Daddy’s good girl. I help her with the buttons and then I help her by demonstrating, showing her how to move her tongue, combine it with her hands, synchronised on either side. She learns quickly, copying my deft movements.

Her throat is well trained too, she doesn’t hesitate in taking him all as I bury my licking tongue between Daddy’s legs. He keeps an encouraging hand on each of us, murmuring a quiet “Good girls”.

I’m sure her fingers working their way under my dress would be just as expert but I don’t get the opportunity to find out before we’re interrupted, her mobile emitting a jarring bleeping. “Sorry…” she offers, withdrawing her inquisitive hands to take the call.

Daddy kisses me deeply, praising my part in our seduction. “My clever girl.” he whispers as the girl yammers. Once again her vocabulary is alien to me, not that I want her words, my now bucking hips want her body, pressed up against me and writhing. I want to bite and scratch through her perfect skin and hear her scream with sweet agony…

It distracts my mind as I try to focus in on her words. Luckily Daddy demonstrates more control, tucking his still ragingly hard cock away subtly as they converse.

Our new farm family are on their way back.

We hear them before we see them in the fading light of the setting sun. Whooping and riled up, still singing the most popular of songs from the local-act-done-good. The move like a swarm, clearly imbibed on the indulgences of the fair. The smell of cheap cider buzzing around them.

Brazen in their approach, you’d forget that the transactions were illegal. Their openness and enthusiasm for consuming the happy medicine amuses me. In the most hedonistic of acts they seem determined as a collective to drain the resources completely dry. “Yolo” and “Fuck it!” thrown around as toasts to the volume thrown down their throats.

They barely take any persuading to move up to the farm in the morning, those that have stricter homes and curfews already having left to catch the only bus to the nearest train station in the early hours. “Ain’t no one expecting me,” smiles one boy, with his arms wrapped around two girls in a state of undress. Daddy’s special rocks had the desired effect, inhibitions don’t exist in their world right now.

They look to Daddy as their leader, the provider of what they desire. They look to him with collective reverence. “We have vast fields up there, you can camp for as long as you like, stay as long as you choose. Let’s keep the party going.” The last message received with a cheer and a gentle scramble to begin gathering belongings.

Our little flock, voluntarily making their own way up to our forever home. Daddy takes them the long way, so as to avoid prying eyes. We don’t use the main entrance but come via the very fields being offered. Fields that they quickly set up in, sharing food, making their camp for the night and eagerly awaiting the promised batch of new supplies in the morning; Daddy waving away any offer of money.

“My gift to you,” he smiles, further increasing the adoration beaming from the congregation.

I clap with glee as Daddy carries me up the field towards home, the cosy cottage with our big bed, welcomed after a night of revelry. “Oh Daddy,” I squeal, safely out of hearing distance, “they’re going to be so happy here. We can train them and breed them and make them such an obedient flock. They’re quite obedient already and so excited for everything!”

“Yes, my Blade.” Daddy says softly, “This is exactly what I’ve been seeking. Good, docile animals to show you the gift of life. We can start straight away, I’m prepared and they’re even better than I could imagine” He looks over the at the bulls in their cages, rampant and pawing at the ground.

“Yes,” Daddy goes on, “This is the simplicity I want for us. We have our flock gathered my Darkling. Now real farm life can begin. All under my charge.”

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