Storyboard – Make Me Pretty

Good girls get what they ask for from their Daddies and their sister.

Inspired by artistic images on Fetlife I asked…and I did indeed receive.

Staples for the littlest pup. The pain, the collaboration, the way my cunt ached….How my Daddy took me afterwards.

Did I cum because the staples ripped out or did they rip out because I came?

Rainbow methodically plotting the placement….

Here….and there….

Daddy lined them up, all pretty in a row. The pinch of the punctured skin making me squirm and whimper.

Hold still…..

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Tugging and pulling…but staying still, good girl.

Helping.

My appreciation.

It rattled against the metal, almost too much to bear…but it got me ready, more than ready…

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Dark Star, The Fifty-Fourth Chapter – Sailing

The never ending sway of the boat makes my tummy grumble. I have an unhappy little dinosaur rawing away in there, Daddy calls him Rex and he’s even more noisy than usual today.

“You’ll feel better soon,” my Daddy tells me as he rubs my belly with his big warm hands.

“I’m OK Daddy,” I say reassuringly, “I’m really enjoying my holiday!” I’m as bright as I can be. Daddy saved so hard for our trip away together. He even stopped taking his medication so that he could use that money too.

My Daddy really loves me.

“Oh good!” His face lifts immediately. I think his beast inside is talking bad words again. I know how to help him. I’m his good girl.

“Yes, Daddy,” my words come as a stream, showing him how much I appreciate him. “I liked getting on the boat first. It was so much bigger than I thought. I liked how we got a perch high above like a pirate in his nest!”

“Yaaar!” He growls at me playfully which makes me giggle. It is good to giggle again. I remember how we used to play pirates in our old house in the city.

The house he took away from us.

I concentrate on the now, “Yes and I liked watching the cars and trucks come on to the boat. They all filed in two by two like Noah’s ark!”

It’s true. They all lined up for miles, waiting to get on our cruise boat. How excited they must have been to come on holiday. A holiday at sea!

Daddy explained to me that we’d go to a magical island where the cars would all leave and more would come on again. What a wonderful idea. So many people on one big boat going too and fro.

No one would spot them if a few of them were missed.

That’s why we came with a van. Daddy is so clever. A new way of gathering our flock.

We drove for miles to come here. Through endless countryside. Past towns with too many effs and thhhs in their names. Daddy says that people live alone and that we should gather them up and show them how to live with other people, our people. It will make them happy.

“Are we there yet!?” I ask impatiently, swinging my legs under the bench on the top deck. Daddy doesn’t hear me at first because of the cold wet wind so I shout louder.

“Nearly.” He smiles in a weathered grimace. “Shall we go pick our new foals?” He offers with a sly smile.

I whoop with glee. New toys! New toys for me!!

We hurry below deck and find a map. Daddy studies if for a while, tracing routes from here to there. “Here.” He points to a spot on our boat called Ferry.

“Is that where the swimming pool is!?” I ask excitedly, suddenly remembering the pictures from the brochures Daddy brought home. We pawed through them together and laughed at all the stupid people doing strange things with luminous orange skin.

This boat isn’t quite like the ones from the magazine. We couldn’t afford the big fancy ones in the magazines. Daddy said they’re for stupid rich people. Daddy did find us this one though. He said it was a special cruise boat, just for us. It’s grimier and there aren’t any orange people on board. I like it more.

He shakes his head, brow slightly furrowed.

“No, that’s where our van is, my little one… here’s the play area through.” He says quickly, diverting my attention to the word ‘crèche’.

He takes my hand and leads me down many flights of stairs and back to the van. Quickly he takes our a small bag that clinks with the familiar sound of Daddy’s special potion.

I giggle to myself and do a little hop of excitement. This is going to be fun. Daddy ruffles my hair with a beaming smile and then leads me away again. He tells me to remember the way but I quickly lose track of the stairs and corridors, too distracted looking at the fat people that totter about on this deck and that.

The words ‘Duty Free’ seem to be plastered everywhere. Words that attract hordes of heifers bustling to grab and consume. I don’t care for their trinkets.

“Not these,” Daddy says with disdain, “they’re too fat and stupid. They’d be feed before the end of the week.”

I nod sagely. I’d seen it many times before. The bulls would chow down on them with a fierce hunger that makes my girl parts ache.

Eventually we burst through a set of doors and enter into a Lobster Bar.

Daddy stops dead and smiles. “Here.”

“I thought we were going to the play area, Daddy!?” I say with a disappointed little pout.

“We are, my little one,” he smiles his secret smile, “look.”

I look again and see what he sees. A room of fit, rich people all cloistered in their booths, watching some blonde thing on a little stage. He’s right. This is a playground, a hunting ground.

I hold in my squee.

“Which one first?” I ask instinctively, holding out my hand for a vial.

Daddy doesn’t respond at first, he just looks at me with that look.

“I’m so proud of you.” He says at last. “You’ve grown up so much.”

I don’t like his words so hurry him on with a nod and a uh-huh.

He chuckles and hands me the vial. It’s barely in my grasp before I’m shooting off into the darkness.

I weave between the tables and the booths and the serving girls, one of whom catches my eye. I make a note to take her last. Maybe she can be my new pet. I don’t like the current one.

Finally I come to a table with a youngish couple engaged in sucking each other’s faces off.

“Hello!” I say sweetly and hop up onto the bench of their booth. I shuffle in next to the girl. “My name’s…” I pause and extend my hand and take and shake the girl’s hand furiously. My other hand slipping the potion in to her drink.

She nods awkwardly and responds with a weak hello, clearly confused. I beam my bestest smile at her and then lean over to shake his hand too. I make sure to brush up against her so she can feel my hot body heat. I slip him some mix too.

He takes his drink immediately as a throw him a wink.

Good boy.

“Excuse me.” I say ever so politely, suddenly noticing how close I am to her. I slide back into my place slowly, making sure to stroke both their laps on the way.

The flushing of their cheeks tell me I chose well.

“Sorry, your name is?” The girl asks. “I didn’t catch it.”

“Oh?” I deflect quickly, pretending to nearly knock over her drink. I catch it with a practiced hand and lift it up. “That was close! I nearly wasted it all!” I say, weaving in a sense of scarcity that makes the girl impulsively want to drink her cocktail now before I do knock it over for real.

I hand her the drink and she knocks it back instinctively.

Good girl.

The drug hits them like a train and in a matter of minutes their eyes start to roll and their hands to roam. I take advantage and pull her hand to me. I slip it under my pretty black dress and her fumbling fingers quickly find their way into my knickers.

“Harder. With nails.” I whisper into her ear. She giggles and grips my flesh with her perfectly manicured nails.

I gasp with pleasure and pain.

The boy is quick to grab her head and pull her face down to him. He’s already undone his jeans and his throbbing cock is quickly forced into her eager mouth. Her cherry lips wrapped tightly as he presses her down onto him.

She gags and he moans. I growl with satisfaction. Daddy will be pleased.

Just as I’m about to cum, that serving girl swings into view. She’s about to ask if we’d like anything when the scene registers and she stops dead.

Cumming hard, I am only able to raise a finger to my lips and mime a shhh. She blushes and bows her head in embarrassment. She isn’t able to look away though, transfixed for a moment before she remembers herself and scurries away.

I remember myself too and pull her hand away. “Follow me.” I whisper and take their hands. The boy seems frustrated he wasn’t able to finish.

“Don’t worry.” I say with a wicked smile. I stroke his face. “You can finish in me.” He grunts audibly.

I take them out the side entrance and lead them to my waiting Daddy who takes charge and leads them down to the belly of the ship where they will soon be squirming too. I forget all about my own uneasy tummy as I take a second vial and return to the lounge for my next prey.

We repeat this routine several times more. By the time I come on to the last of my hunt my cunt, Daddy’s cunt, is sore and bleeding. It throws the serving girl a little as I press her face against my wet parts. But the force of my grip overcomes her fear and soon she’s licking and biting like a good little puppy.

I cum, finally, all over her face. She chokes as I drown her in my filth.

“Good girl.” I praise her as I bring her up to me so I can lap it up and lick her clean. She smiles bashfully at me and I grip her wrist and we flee quickly from the dark room.

“Last one.” Daddy says as he takes her from me, looking her up and down.

I nod triumphantly.

He is clearly pleased by this one as he checks her with his rough hands, lifting her silky back waitress skirt. Her squeak of surprise is muffled under his other fist as his fingers explore her, no doubt dripping wet, cunt.

“Very good.” He does approve.

“Quickly, it’s nearly time to go.”

With that we rush down the stairs and back to our van. The girl is thrown into the back onto the mass of writhing bodies. Daddy slams the door shut just as the boat thuds onto the dock and the announcement is made to return to your vehicles.

In a matter of minutes we’re driving back onto solid ground and away from our wonderful cruise ship.

I wonder for a second what the ship workers will make of the empty cars left behind but the thought doesn’t linger long as Daddy puts on my favourite mixtape. The one with the doggy in the window.

“My favourite!” I squeal.

After a few moments have passed, I turn and look at him. He’s concentrating on driving but rather than his furrowed brow that he wears so often nowadays he has a bright smile.

“Thank you, Daddy.” I say gently. “Thank you for my wonderful holiday.”

He just beams at me and accelerates along the long empty road to home; to our farm.

I wonder if the other animals will like these new ones. I wonder if next holiday we will go on safari?

The thought melts into a blur as I drift off to sleep. I dream of tigers and boats and orange people diving into deep pools filled with sharks. I dream of wonderful things.

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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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