Dark Star, The Forty-First Chapter – Leaving

“What did you do?” Daddy words are quiet, shocked. My Daddy is never shocked. Never at something I’ve done. I’m his perfect girl.

He picks up a stiff arm, the skin waxy white with blood pooled on the underside where her flesh meets the operating table. It’s funny when they go all rigid like that, like a wooden puppet. I wonder if Daddy will raise the stiffening corpse and make her dance for me. I like it when he does that. I smile at him, remembering all those times he’s done it before, the music filling my ears as the memories flood back.

I begin to spin around the room in homage to our dancing, holding my arms as Daddy has shown me. His good girl, with good form.

A back hand sends me hurtling towards the floor, blood spraying across the tiles.
“Stop.” Daddy instructs.

“What. Is. This?” Daddy speaks slowly and deliberately. I know I must answer. I flail, lost for words.

A firm hand picks me up by the back of the neck and drags me over to the decaying body, the smell is putrid and her tongue protrudes from her mouth. It’s revolting. It’s much better than before, with all that disgusting cooing over the tiny pile of screech.


I was happy to shovel the meat bag back into its hole, to shut it up. The cracking sounds of its tiny breaking bones adding to the terrible cacophony echoing around the room, her pitiful screams, of distress, of pain, her objections to me forcing her spawn back inside her.

The eventual silence was blissful once she gave up the fight and let her life drift away. I must have fallen asleep, grateful for the peace.

“What did you do?” Daddy asks me as if he’s scolding a puppy, picking me up easily and rubbing my nose in the crudely sewn wound. “What is this Blade?” Higher in pitch now, his tone showing signs of confusion.

“I sewed it like you showed me Daddy. I was your good little nurse.”

He drags me up to face him, nose to nose. “But… she’s still so fat. WHERE THE FUCK IS THE BABY?” Bellowing now, deep Daddy roars of anger. My bladder responds in fear, releasing a slow trickle of wet down my thighs. This is not the wetness I associate with my Daddy, my Daddy makes me happy wet. I squirm as the liquid soaks into my socks, my favourite frilly socks, they won’t be pristine white any longer.

“Inside,” I gesture towards the belly of the woman, the bloody gash that splits her in two, bound together with thick surgical wire. The source of the red smeared across my punished face.

Daddy drops me to the floor, letting me collapse before his feet. His mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air.

“Why….?” Is all he manages.

“It cried.” I offer. “I didn’t like it. It was noisy.”

Daddy shakes his head. His disappointment in me hits my gut like a wrecking ball, tears start to fall as I beg for his forgiveness.

“I’m sorry Daddy, it… it was really, really… loud. And… and… I wanted it to stop. And… and the lady looked so happy when she held it but when I held it then it… it… it just cried like all horrible and I couldn’t make it stop. It didn’t love me, I just wanted it to love me.” Shaking with sobs, I bury my head in his lap as he kneels down before me.

“I planned so carefully.” Daddy’s words are distant. He’s no longer here in the room with me. “It was all so clear. I don’t understand. How could I fail like this…”

Momentarily I feel him. A wave of defeat washes over him, every muscle in his body going slack as he gives in.

“How am I supposed to teach her in this place?” He spits his words now in ager. “This world is so demanding. These people, all children, all babies groping for attention and selfish gain.” Daddy is staring that the corpse beside us. “Of course her spawn would be so vile. It runs in her blood like a disease.”

“Daddy?” My voice is lost under the growing rage that bellows out from him.

“Of course it was going to fail! That is my lesson. My lesson here.” He lashes out and strikes the corpse, splitting the skin with a firm fist. “Of course it wouldn’t work in this filthy hole. It’s their fault. They ruined it all!”

His last words echo violently in the room. I feel the cold trickle of blood run down my face, splatters from the corpse as Daddy struck it.

“She doesn’t know yet. She hasn’t seen what I have seen. What I learned when I was young.” His voice calms as he finds his new way. I listen to him piece it all together again. A new way of looking at the world. “I pushed to her fast, too soon. She hasn’t even learned the simple things yet…”

He goes silent as some dawning realisation comes to him.

I’m surprised to feel Daddy’s hand stroke my back, his words coming softly.

“My precious girl. So young, so much to learn. Of course, you never had any baby brothers or sisters, you’d never know. That’s what babies do. They cry and you feed and nurture them. They’re ever so demanding Blade, it’s why I could never have another, because I have so much still to teach you.”

I nod, not quite understanding but keen to appear compliant.

“The lesson here now is lost.” Daddy looks disappointed, but soldiers on, nodding all the while to himself. “But it’s clear I have a different task. You need to learn about the circle of life my girl, the miracle of birth, about parenting and raising young. You need to learn all about babies. I thought I was teaching you but I see now that I missed the point, so consumed with getting back at that bitch and this place.” he spits in the direction of the rapidly decaying mush of meat and bones, “I will show you how to be a good parent my darkling, I’ll teach you to be just like me.”

I feel the small swirl of excitement in my stomach. I want to be perfect, just like him “How Daddy…?” I ask softly.

“I will teach you in the way I learned…” He smiles softly at me, remembering some time long ago. “Out in the country. Out in nature. Where you can see life in its true form, not here medically forced and artificial. There’s no life left in this putrid, decaying city.” Daddy smiles down at me, drying up my tears. “I’m taking us to a farm.”

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Dark Star, The Fortieth Chapter – Seeding

Content Warning

This work of fiction contains graphic references to rape, birthing and infanticide. It is intended to shock and entertain, not endorse such acts.


I’d heard them; it started in the first week. Her breathless gasps, Daddy’s low mumbled growl, the building tempo, flesh against flesh, pounding. Snippets of words, “Oh yes, harder”. Audible through the crack under the door. I’d held my breath to strain to listen, each sound painting a picture in my mind, knowing the expression on his face, how his muscles ripple as he thrusts, how his hands look gripping onto soft skin.

It played out like a movie in my mind, as I lay alone in the cold spare room, surrounded by unloved storage and unused exercise equipment.

It had confused me that first morning, when she showed no sign of Daddy’s treatment. No bruises, no bites, her clothes intact and a smile on her face.

It changed my mind movie by the second week. Stripped of his usual violent tendencies the sounds left interpretation of lust and passion but without pain. I scoffed, she doesn’t know what she’s missing, yet the idea of Daddy’s loving attention, focussed and given to her made my stomach start to ache. It haunted my dreams, reaching out to an absent Daddy, grazing my fingers against a hard wall; still alone in the single bed.

It had confused me on the second week, how Daddy was acting around her, the smiles, the hand holding, fetching her tea and kissing her hair. He looked buoyant, bouncing around the kitchen.

My observations were quiet, looking, searching for sign of my Dark Daddy, waiting for a wink, a look, a sign, any sign of his intentions. I found none. I knew better than to ask, to break character. Our game would be up. I will pretend and be his good girl so we can keep living here… in hiding.

Daddy knows best and he wants to stay here, here with her. He’s talking about being so happy; it must be part of his master plan, one he will reveal later.

It confused me on the third week, how she was interacting with me, such genuine smiles, caring about my wellbeing and checking I was warm, safe and comfortable. Silly bitch actually believes the ploy. She took the time to “have a chat” with me, to let me know she loves him, MY Daddy, and he loves her too and that meant we would be staying for a while now. I played along, laughing when her back was turned. She doesn’t know my Daddy.

That must be Daddy’s masterplan, this house is nice and the lady feeds us. We’re almost settling into a routine, it’s been four weeks now and Daddy and the lady hold hands and smile at each other. They do it all the time, especially when she gets home from work, so grateful for the all the things he’s done around the house.

Of course he has, he’s my Daddy, he can do anything, and he’s had enough practice, we’ve had so many houses that needed to be fixed, bodies hidden, evidence removed.

I missed his painful loving at first, my Daddy’s hands on me, hurting me, pleasuring me. I’ve found a new way. I wait until I hear the sounds and then I do it myself. Imagining my Daddy as he fucks that woman, taking his belt to my skin to recreate the pain, throwing fists at my face and pulling my hair, thrusting anything I can inside of me, to fill the ache he’s left behind.

I hate fuck myself to the sounds of my Daddy pretending to be in love.

He can’t be in love, can he? My Daddy loves me. Only me.

I’ve been so good and ever so patient, never questioning him, waiting to see his plan play out. He must have a plan. I wear the extra short summer dresses that he likes but he doesn’t pull me onto his lap anymore. I try to nuzzle in, to let him smell me, to wait for the growls to start, fingernails to dig in, to tear at my flesh and show me I belong to him.

But he just pats me on the head and tells me we’re a normal family now. “We’re happy Blade, happy and normal. This is our life. Run along and play like a good girl.”

The bruises and bite marks have faded, all gone. I can’t remember how they used to look, how they got there. The world we lived in feels like a dream. They toys, the chains, their pain, Daddy’s lessons. Was I bad? Does he not want to teach me anymore? Maybe this is a lesson. A long game lesson. I must just be patient.

I ask him one day, a rare question, one I’m safe to venture, at worst I am punished and my screaming craving body gets the attention I so need.

“Is this a lesson Daddy?”

He considers me for a long time. “Yes, my sweetling, it’s a lesson. It’s a lesson about sometimes giving other people what they need.” He says no more and moves away quickly. I read the lust in his eyes and wonder why he denies himself. I need him and he needs me, I don’t understand. In frustration I hurl myself at the floor and wail.

Today there were different noises from their room. Angry noises. Raised voices and slamming doors. Then a quiet, a quiet that I quickly fill as Daddy bursts through the door to take me, a whirlwind of pent up pressure and rampant desire.

Daddy fucks me like he’ll never see me again.

Satiated, gorged on my blood and flesh Daddy explains “She said the only thing she cares about is babies. She says it’s a deal breaker.” He looks devastated. I try to hide my glee. She’s upset him. Good, now we can begin the plan. I knew there was a plan.

Daddy turns to me with a dark look in his eyes and I know he has returned. “If the only thing she cares about is babies, then that’s the only thing she can have. It’ll be the only thing she’ll be capable of caring about.”

I snuggle into his arms and listen to him talk. “Today Blade I will teach you about being careful what you wish for. She wants babies, she says she needs them to be happy. She says she can’t stay with me unless I can give her that. I won’t be tricked Blade. She knew what I wanted, she thought I’d change my mind but she’s wrong.”

I nod to show I understand but mostly I’m just agreeing that she’s wrong. She took my Dark Daddy and made him happy, she took away my pain and loving and Daddy’s attention. She must be wrong.

“If she wants babies,” Daddy says menacingly, “Then we’ll give her babies.”

• • • • •

There are two types of men that answer Daddy’s advert.

Two types of reaction to what’s being made available.

A completely compliant woman ready to take their seed. Heavily sedated she won’t move, won’t fuss, won’t object. “You can do whatever you want.” Daddy offers, “You can even hurt her if you like, she won’t mind. She won’t fight back. She’s all yours for the taking.”

The good men, the ones that seek consent in their actions, they refuse. I take their sample in a little pot instead and we let them leave. The bad men, the ones that will use her, we let them, they rut and pant and have their fun and then Daddy teaches them a different lesson.

Daddy shows them that just because someone else says it’s ok it doesn’t always mean it is and you should check your morals. We keep those men, growing a baby needs good nutrients, rich fresh meat.

My job is to administer the samples.

Without eating any.

An ultimate test in how good a nurse I am for Daddy.


Now Daddy says we just wait for her to get fat, then we know the stork has brought a baby. Then Daddy says he’ll make sure that’s all she cares about. “The fucking baby that’s clearly more important than the unconditional love she promised.”

Daddy stomps around quite a lot, impatient for the lesson to take hold. Some days he mutters under his breath, pointing at her, cursing her down, something about bitches being crazy and already having a babygirl and not wanting another and why couldn’t she just love him for him. On those days he goes away to be quiet, holed up in one of the rooms.

Alone with the mother-in-waiting I do everything to make sure she’s comfortable. Her body must be the most perfect of everything to incubate a baby. She can’t be stressed so I make sure the happy drip is dripping with the sleepy medicines. Daddy says it’s sufficiently alive but not quite awake.

I also need to make sure she’s had enough food so I puree and pour it into her nose feeding tube. Daddy says it’s mostly iron and protein and that’s good for growing babies. The bad men make a delicious soup for us all.

The men that come, they often move her around, Daddy says that’s good for her muscles and joints, to keep her supple.

I tend to our patient every day. I’m making a good nurse, Daddy says so. One day I’ll progress up to midwife and that’s a very important job. I then I get to be surgeon, take away anything that she could care about but isn’t as important as a baby.

I did wonder whether eyes might be a useful thing for a mother to have but Daddy knows best, so they will go first, but not until she’s seen her spawn.

I’m also not sure what cutting out her happy button has to do with babies. But Daddy said she “can’t even fucking use it properly anyway so she might as well not have it.” Like tonsils I guess. Someone at school had them taken away and they can do without them. Her lady parts will still work to make more babies, it just won’t be as fun.

I can’t wait to help this lady and give her what she wants; a baby all of own to look after, to take her attention away from my Daddy. It’ll be so exciting because she’ll wake up just before a thing called a c-section. I don’t really know what that means but I do love how Daddy’s teaching me everything.


He really is the smartest Daddy and I’m being the bestest nurse there ever was. Daddy tells me so every night as he takes me in that violent way he used to, in that way he always will; with a rain of fists and rolling thunder of growls.

• • • • •

It looked so pretty, doll like, swaddled and cute. I could see why the lady cooed over it, little hand gripping around her finger. I could see the love beaming from her, all focussed towards this little person.

A perfect moment of connection.

Despite the drowsy after effects of her sleepy medicine, she was able to see the little creature. She didn’t even notice the gaping hole in her stomach where I pulled it out, wiggling and covered in goo.

I watched them for a short while, her mumbled words gushing about how precious it is, how beautiful it looks. Daddy was right, she would see it and love it and that will be the last thing she will ever see. How lucky she is to have such a gift.

A quiet voice spoke from the back of my mind. Why does she get to have the present?

First she took my Daddy and now she gets the love of this thing too. Why is she so special?

I want it. I want to feel like that. I want that love. I looked after her, I brought the screaming spawn into the world. I deserve that, not her.

So I took the creature and held it just like she did, but once I had it I didn’t feel the same. I wanted it to stop crying. I didn’t want to coo, I wanted to shake it and make it be quiet again.

I didn’t like the ear-piercing levels of fuss so I put it back in and I sewed it up nice and tight like Daddy showed me.

It’s better when it’s inside there where it belongs. Plus I like her all plump and glowing. She’s been a good patient whilst I’ve been learning to be a nurse for Daddy. I’ve watched her baby bump grow and felt so satisfied that I helped make that, tending to her, feeding her body and taking care of her. I won’t have that ruined by the evil bundle of screech.

I made her the perfect incubator, she should be grateful and stay that way.


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Dark Star, The Thirty-Ninth Chapter – Serenading

His fingers move like the beating wings of a butterfly, making music twice as beautiful. The notes flow over me in waves, capturing my very being and taking me along with the melody; I close my eyes and lose myself to his songs, to the magical sounds that he’s weaving.

In the darkness of my closed eyelids, in this emptying square, he could be playing just for me.

The fading sunlight warms my face. I am cocooned in the warmth and the rhythm; voice and instrument as one. I drink in his extraordinary talent so ignored by foolish passers-by, scurrying past in a rush for their pathetic lives. I feel sorry for them, for what they miss, the pleasure of being in the moment with the music. It burns strong. It consumes me.

“More please Daddy.” I turn with my request to catch Daddy looking at me, like he does when he thinks I don’t know. Pure adoration mixed with more than a little amusement at my latest fixation.

I hold out my palm and plead with him to place a coin or two, for me to pass them on, chinking in his open guitar lid in a most satisfying way. Now he will play for me some more.

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My movements become unconscious, allowing my body to flow in whatever way this new song moves me, this song, my song.

“Come now.” Daddy says gently, as the final note rings out, encouraging me to move away from the busker who has solely played for the small change Daddy has provided over the past hour…or maybe it was two? Each time thanking me with a smile and playing on. The covers have come in a variation of styles; the pop classics that made me bounce from foot to foot and sing with all the gusto of a full choir and the moody blues numbers that pull me into dark stories, connecting with the struggles portrayed in the lyrics.

“Thank you.” The guitarist speaks, directing his gratitude to Daddy and settling his guitar into the stand. He begins to scoop up the shiny coins, coppers, silvers and golds sparkling in the light of the setting sun, packing away his equipment into their cases ready to leave.

“No.” I pout internally, I hadn’t finished, I paid, I gave him Daddy’s shiny monies and now he is mine. I turn back to Daddy, careful to control my sulking for fear of a teaching fist.

“Good girl,” Daddy’s praise accompanies the action that will see me earn it, taking my hand and beginning to lead me away. My stubborn feet complying but not without a little fuss, dragging my heels and looking back to the man, his wild hair lit golden in the sunset. I want him; I want him to keep playing for me.

“She really likes music huh…?” He asks, speaking of me but directing his question to Daddy.

Daddy’s reply is casual, “Yes, thank you for your time.” Barely giving him a look before moving on, making our way over the cobbled square.

“Yeah, I know it’s good for, like…” he drops his voice “…when they’re a bit special, you know? Music helps them…” Daddy stops in his tracks to allow the man to finish, “…because they’re not normal.”

The man continues to ramble as Daddy slowly turns back to him, increasing his grip on my hand and taking me with him, walking uncomfortably close to the man. “I know normal people like music too, obviously, but for like, retarded people or whatever, special needs, yeah, it’s especially good and helps them.”

I look up at Daddy with confusion. The man’s still talking but he seems less beautiful now. Is he talking about me? Why is he talking about me and not to me?

His question continues in the same vein, completely ignoring the eye contact I attempt to make, he asks Daddy bluntly, “What is it that’s wrong with her?”

I feel Daddy tense but his words stay controlled, very controlled, “There’s. Nothing. Wrong. With. Her.”

The man’s words are baiting Daddy’s beast inside. I can sense it. I feel myself clench.

“Oh,” the man’s eyebrows raise. He looks confused when he would do well to be apologetic, “Errr….but, the dancing? When she…you know….” Those hushed tones return, “touched herself… And the red all over her clothes, I thought she’d like, spilled her food.” He looks closer at the dark stains covering my dress unable to disguise the disgust in his expression.

“And she called you Daddy. But?… I’m not judging man, no harm.”

Flustering he aims to distract, thrusting a handful of leaflets at Daddy who eyes him carefully. “Here, I’m playing again tonight, she’ll like it, I mean, you both might like it. No hard feelings, yeah? I didn’t mean nothing by it. I just thought… I mean… I assumed… and she did really like the music”

Finally directing his words to me he asks, “You’d like some more, wouldn’t you?” Reaching to pat me on the head but recoiling at my bestest super wide smile, the one with extra teeth. Silly man, I just want to be friends.

“Oh Daddy,” I squeal at the prospect of more playing, playing his music for me. It cuts through my confusion at the meaning of his words. “More? Can we? More? Please Daddy.”

“We’ll be there.” Daddy promises with a hint of menace, whipping the pile of leaflets away from the man but holding just one, letting the others flutter to the floor before marching me away.

“Daddy… Daddy!” I bounce along beside him. “That man will play for me again, won’t he? All for me. All mine. I like his songs, they make my heart happy. I want him to play always Daddy. When I wake up and when I go to bed and when we’re having our special play times and teaching lessons and when you give me a bath and…”

“Whatever makes you happy my darkling,” Daddy squeezes my hand tightly with his promise. “I will get him for you.”

Daddy changes me before we leave to see the man, stripping off the soiled dress the guitarist had taken such objection to. The source of the stain whimpers softly in the corner of the room. “Shhh… kitten, we’ll play with you again soon.” I promise, waving at the ball of fuzz who quickly quiets at my words. I wonder if she’d like the pretty songs the music man plays.

“Ooooh Daddy, can we take her?” I ask excitedly, “To the Duck and waa, wee…what’s that word Daddy?” I point to the pub name on the flier.

“Duck and Whistle.” Daddy confirms, “and no, they won’t allow cats, and she’s a cat. Aren’t you?” The question directed to our feline friend who barely lifts her head in response, having wedged herself tight into the corner, quiet now.

“Ready, steady…” Daddy starts.

“Go!” I reply, bouncing off the bed and pulling him towards the door. My enthusiasm doesn’t waver for the whole journey, excitedly telling Daddy of the songs I’d enjoyed earlier and brimming with anticipation for might follow.

Regulars mill around the pub, families enjoying food, the familiar faces in their usual places. The stage is barely a stage but more of a corner to set himself up in, the only act playing tonight.

We’re not the only ones there to enjoy the musical treat. A stream of fans make themselves known to him after the show, the dedicated and the newly converted. They avoid us, that suits me. No one came to dance when I did. I cheered the loudest, appreciated the most, losing myself in his music, in his melody that speaks to me.

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The man packs up quickly and tries to make a quiet exit, passing by the bar for a brown envelope before slipping out the back door. In brief flash I catch his nervous glance towards Daddy and I, the same look he tried to suppress through the whole set.

“Where’s he going?” I look at Daddy with some confusion. “I thought he was going to be mine?”

Daddy flashes a stern look at me, which makes all my muscles tighten.

“Sorry.” I blurt out and look down at my hands that are fiddling with themselves in my lap.

“We’re leaving.” Daddy says firmly. I swallow my disappointment and hurry quickly after him as he strides out on to the dark streets. I expect him to turn right and take us home and so stumble as he turns left.

I have to break into a little jog to keep up with Daddy’s great pace. I dare not ask him were we are going. Without warning Daddy turns abruptly off down a side street. Panting a little I swerve to keep up. That’s when I see him, the music man, packing up his van.

The musician gawps before managing, “Oh hey…,” his words trailing off as Daddy swoops in quickly and strikes that stupid expression off his face. A firm fist to the jaw and he slumps into Daddy’s arms.

“Now,” Daddy says with some point, “he is ours.” He looks at me in that way that makes my heart pound and adrenaline pump through my veins, teaching me a lesson in trust. “Home.” His command is simple and I obey, following his footsteps all the way home.

The kitten squeals as Daddy drags the drowsy musician through the door. She is so pleased to see us, clearly bored left all on her own. “Mummy’s home!” I chime with delight and skip over to her corner. “We bought back a new present too!” I scritch under my kitten’s chin, just how they like it. I scritch extra hard until she bleeds. Good kittens desire extra good scritches.

Daddy begins working on our new friend. He drags him over to the work bench, the one where we make teddies and princesses and my special harness. Hours drift by as I play with my kitten. She’s so exhausted, playing with the ball of string. It’s funny how kittens like to get themselves all tied up. It’s fun, trapping her in the web of wires.

I look over to Daddy, he’s still hard at work. I watch his strong arms weave their magic with needle and thread. I wonder what he’s making for me. I remember the day he made my special harness and my girl parts start to ache. I want to feel what it felt like, again, I want to put my boy parts inside something alive and feel it squirm and move against me.

Not disturbing Daddy, like a good girl, I fetch my harness with its steel boy parts. It’s cold to the touch. It makes me ache. I want Daddy inside.

The kitten murmurs and brings my attention back to my new game. Good kitten. I slip on the harness and tighten the straps. I pull extra hard until I feel the beautiful pain of the spikes pierce my skin – spikes to keep it in place. Clever Daddy.

“Good kitten.” I say with a smile, stroking her sunken face. She’s become so beautifully skinny now that I feed her the right number of meals for a cat. She was fussy about the food at first, but soon learned that fussy kittens get no treats, fussy kittens get nothing at all.

She struggles a little. Trying to present for me. “You want it, don’t you? Such a good kitten.” Stalking behind her I push her face down so that I can watch Daddy at work.

He’s drenched in blood. The smell permeates the air, it’s intoxicating. I’ve been so good to not interrupt him, not to give into the beast that’s been awoken by the smell and wants to drink, no matter how much I ache to feel him.

“Aren’t you lucky?” I whisper into her ear. “I’m going to show you what Daddy treats feel like.” She whimpers quietly, tears rolling down her sobbing face. “I know. It’s so exciting.” I encourage her and bite hard on her ear as I force myself inside. Her thankful screams are echoed by an immediate rumbling growl. Her gratitude catches Daddy’s attention.

I beam at him, thrusting back and forth as he showed me. Good girls practice for their Daddies.

“Now you will play for my girl, always!” He barks at the music man. Grabbing his new creation, Daddy walks swiftly over to my play corner.

“What is it?” I ask with great enthusiasm.

“This is your very own harp, for you to learn to play.” Daddy says with a warm smile. “So the music man will give you beautiful music. All of the time. He will never stop playing for you, not anymore.”

“Oh Daddy!” Gratitude overwhelms me and my hips buck harder and faster, forcing the girl wide open. My steel cock becomes red with her blood as I force myself in deeper and deeper.

Stepping out of his clothes with ease he kneels down in front of the kitten. “Aren’t you a lucky little creature?” He ventures, feeding her some of the musicians blood. She savours it in her mouth, not wanting to swallow.

Next he feeds me, my hunger obvious from my panting thrusts. He smears the thick red blood across my face, shovelling it into my desperate mouth. “Thank you. Thank you.” I pant as I grip harder on kitten’s hips, drawing more blood. The scent from the two playthings mingles in the room, exciting me more.

“Good girl.” Daddy smiles as he plucks the first note on the instrument. A beautiful high pitched scream follows. Daddy plucks a few more strings to elicit so many other notes. He is so clever. The musician is fixed together with steel rods. Daddy snapped his bones so he could arrange the limbs as he wishes. The man’s legs now creating triangles over his chest. His feet exquisitely sewn to his neck. His tendons are peeled from deep within his flesh and run tight and tied to his rips. Each tendon making a single string in our human harp.

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“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you. It’s just so beautiful” I praise him as I thrust my last thrust and let the dead kitten slide off my blood drenched boy parts.

“You deserve the best of everything!” Daddy tells me as he sweeps me into his arms, placing me in front of the harp with an encouraging nod. “Here, my little darkling, I’ll help you keep time.” Daddy places himself inside me, rubbing me first with the ruby liquid dripping from the end of my steel cock, growling at the sight of my girl parts covered in blood. Daddy moves slowly, at first, helping me pluck each chord, listening to the music man’s magic reverberate around the room.

Once again, I lose myself to the melody, to the songs that speak to me, as Daddy’s hands close around my neck all I hear is the repeated sound of music, my fingers hitting each string and the sounds that follows, music for me, music that is all mine.

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Dark Star, The Thirty-Eighth Chapter – Rambling

The rainbow is beautiful. It rises high into the sky over the nearby fields. The rain is barely a mist now and the sun shines bright, it illuminates all the colours, it draws me in.

“Daddy, Daddy I want to see the rainbow. I want to see if there’s a pot of gold at the end. Can we go and see? Can we Daddy?”

“Sure sweetling,” he chuckles at my enthusiasm, “… let’s do that!”

He helps me into my bright pink wellies, one foot then the other before tapping on my toes. “There we go… now let’s find us some puddles to splash in!” He beams at me with a child-like excitement. One I share as we skip hand in hand towards the fields and the wooded areas beyond.

The woods are damp and feel alive. The clouds have made way to bright sunshine and it pours through gaps in the canopy. Leaves and sticks crunch under our feet. Today there’s no prey for us to stalk so we can be as noisy as we like.

I jump and splash around. Climbing up on the nearest fallen log and holding my Daddy’s hand to walk along it “Look Daddy,” I squeal as the angle grows and I find myself a full head higher than him “I can do it, look how high I am… look!”

“I see you. You’re such a brave girl, climbing so high.” The pride in his eyes is genuine.

“However will you get down though?” he asks me, gently mocking.“You might get stuck forever! Then the baddies in the woods will come and eat you all up!” his teasing doesn’t faze me, Daddy’s just being silly, there are no baddies.

“You’ll get me down, silly Daddy!” I giggle at him, holding my arms out wide when I reach the end of the log, waiting to jump into his arms.

But Daddy doesn’t turn to face me as expected. He doesn’t reach up to save me, to pluck me down into his embrace. He doesn’t even look at me at all.

Without the safety of his arms to fall into I’m suddenly aware of just how high I am. He still has my hand, his own lifted way over his head in order to reach. His grip is limp, barely there. I teeter on the edge of the log, unsure of my own feet and their ability to stay rooted firm onto the slippery surface.

I crouch down for safety. Oh why did I climb so high? What if Daddy doesn’t save me?

I try to overcome the swirling fear that rises with nauseating speed and focus on Daddy’s face, whispering, “Please Daddy,” but he’s stopped engaging. Tears spring to my eyes.

Blinking away the wetness I look again. I look closely and realise he is listening. He’s just not listening to me. He’s very carefully tuning into noises in the distance. All his energy pointing in that direction, like a hunting dog that can smell the fox.

He’s hyper focussed on the activity afar, sounds that I can just about make out if I hold my breath and strain really hard.

He turns to me ever so slowly and places a finger to his lips, a well-rehearsed signal for me to stay quiet.

I creep backwards on the log until I’m at the right height for Daddy to effortlessly lift me into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. He frowns slightly at the wetness on my face, a flicker of concern that I dismiss with a quick shake of my head and a smile to assure Daddy that I’m fine, I’m a big girl. I wasn’t crying.

Held firm by a strong arm I stick to Daddy’s side as he makes his way stealthily through the trees towards the source of the noise. The rabble that has his interest. He’s careful not to make a sound or draw any attention to us, dropping down to hide behind foliage when we get close enough to see. I lower onto to the forest floor beside him.

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The group give no indication that they know they are being watched, four teenage boys standing around a bundle on the floor. A screaming crying bundle that is getting louder despite their violent insistence that she should, “Shut the fuck up, stupid bitch.” Their kicks only amplifying her objections.

Flicking my eyes to the side I watch Daddy watching them. He’s assessing the situation, drinking it in, deciding on his approach.

There’s one that’s clearly standing out as the leader. The one with the knife. The only one that isn’t radiating equal parts fear with his arousal. He’s strutting like the alpha of the pack, goading them on. “Shut her up. Fucking do it or we’ll get caught. Don’t let the bitch ruin it.”

Not doing the dirty work himself but instead encouraging one of the boys to secure and gag the writhing bloodied blonde; he nods in appreciation as it muffles her instantly. They all look to him expectant. Now what? Now what do we do? Practically panting with anticipation they pace, a pack of hungry hyenas waiting to devour an easy food source.

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I look at her. She’s tiny really. Made to look even smaller under the ropes that have bent her double with legs and arms hog-tied. She struggles to keep her pretty face out of the mud. Her eyes, wide with fear, look pleadingly at each of her captors. Is she looking for signs of compassion, a brief glimmer of hope? She’ll find none, just debased desire and sick excitement.

I look at her and I imagine the potential in the situation. How good she could be for these boys, like I am for Daddy. I imagine all the possible ways she could please them and it makes my girl parts ache. So many opportunities if she would just seize them.

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But she really is very tiny and she really does seem to be objecting quite genuinely. My arousal is confused with an anxiety that I don’t like. I feel slightly sick as I watch the boys salivate over her. A cold dread soaks me and I’m afraid to see what comes next, yet strangely compelled to continue to watch, wishing that Daddy would be inside of me as I do.

One of the braver boys holds her up by the hair and spits obscenities into her face. Each one makes my cunt twitch. Her arms and legs must be aching now, the hard floor digging into her ribs. There will be a tapestry of beautiful bruises underneath her torn clothes, sore spots from each time they strike her. The pain is etched on her face and resonates in her muffled moans.

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Daddy doesn’t look at me as he reaches over for my hand. He keeps his eyes trained on them. His hardness gives away the impact of the boys’ game. Freed from his jeans with his other hand and ready for my tight grip, Daddy’s cock pulses as I grasp it with smooth practised movements.

His low growl is inaudible above the sounds of the boys, now finding their confidence in the situation and battling an emerging rivalry, each becoming more vocal in their desires. They’re arguing about who will go first.

“I fucking got her. I’ll do it.” the scruffiest of the hyenas attempts to stake his claim.

“Nah. I tied her up. None of you fucks could do that.” another brags.

“Yeah cause you’re a pussy scout. Dib dib.” the third one mocks, “besides, you fucked your sister like yesterday. I aint even got laid yet. It should be me.”

The scout retreats mumbling, “She only sucked my cock… she likes it…,” making way for the ringleader to step up make his decree. Placing his muddy foot on the girl’s back he lifts his arm, aiming a pointing finger like a gun, using it to scan over each of the pack with their pleading eyes.

I don’t see where he pulls the trigger, I only hear the words. “You. You do it.” as I’m forced down by my hair to wrap my lips around Daddy’s engorged shaft.

My gurgled choking sounds are well timed by Daddy to fall in line with the ruckus from the clearing. The sounds of heaving her bound body into an accessible position, the squeals as she prepares herself. I imagine the girl, finally getting her opportunity, to please them as I please my Daddy.

I imagine how loud those thrusts and grunts must be in her ear, and how they must make her cunt as wet as they’re making mine. I imagine the feel of the boy pushing inside and my empty cunt clenches with unfulfilled longing. I wonder if it hurts, as my Daddy hurts me now, painfully forcing his way deep into my throat with a more frantic pace.

A pace I hear mirrored in the boy, the exertion evident in his heavy breathing, in his moans. The cheerleading of his pack akin to the snarls of hungry animals; self-serving encouragement for the sooner he finishes, the sooner they get their fangs and claws into the girl.

“Fuck, that looks good, yeah? Yeah.”

“Come on man, I wan’ a go.”

The voice of the ring leader cuts them off. “If you can’t wait just take her mouth.” clearly pulling the gag away, allowing the desperate pleas of the girl to penetrate the air. “No, no, please stop, no.” Screams soon muffled, her choking sounds so familiar, so similar to mine. Such a lucky girl.

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I yearn to be desired by so many.

A thought that barely forms before Daddy’s desire pours into my throat. Hot spurts that remind me that I am desired, violently, passionately, often. I feel it in the aching reminder of Daddy’s brutal love only this morning, blood still gently flowing into my underwear.

My throat continues to ache with Daddy’s desire even after he pulls out, placing a gentle kiss on my head without averting his eyes from the boys and their plaything. He gestures again for me to shh with a finger to his lips and begins to creep away, slowly backwards through the brush, pulling me with him.

I look at Daddy quizzically, non-verbally conveying my question with wrinkled brow and a turn of my head, are we leaving?

It is my turn to plead now, pressing my hands together in prayer position and gesturing back to where we came from. Where the boys are still vying for their turn with increased desperation, voices raising, tempers fraying. They’re turning on each other, the sounds of scuffles and fists against flesh, too many to simply be their appreciation of the girl.

Daddy understands, I can tell. I can see it in the way he looks at me with beaming pride, hands clutched to his heart. He shows me in the way he leads me back, in the way he takes charge, easily dispatching of the used up girl and rounding up the scattering snarling pack, bleeding from their brawl.

Daddy understands in the way he lays me out, shows me off, makes me the prize this time.

Daddy understands in the way he gives his instructions, the way he invites them, all at once if they choose. I have hands and holes for using. They can hurt me if they wish. I won’t fight, I will please them.

They must be shy, or perhaps exhausted, having exerted themselves, wasted energy on an ungrateful girl; the memory of her objections still sitting uneasy in my mind. They don’t fight for me, no squabbles, hardly any response at all, rigid on the spot, eyes rooted to Daddy’s movements.

Overwhelmed perhaps with the opportunity Daddy is presenting.

“We… we weren’t gonna kill her,” sputters the ringleader. “She’s… I had to take her home. Her brother’s gonna kill me.”

“Oh her…” Daddy shrugs in the direction of the now peacefully quiet used meat. “Disgracefully ungrateful girl. Blade won’t give you the same kind of trouble… look, you don’t even have to restrain her.” I casually waggle my free limbs in demonstration, never moving from my spot, splayed and ready on the floor. “Come on boys, I saw everything. I know it’s what you want. Now come and take it.”

The colour has drained from each of their faces; it took their speech with it. Each one mute, standing shaking like a frightened rabbit. I like them less like this, where is the passion, the intensity? Where is the pack ripping me apart? Why does that girl get it and I don’t? I try not to pout. Sulky girls get nothing.

Maybe they’re just intimidated because my Daddy is so strong, because it barely took any effort for him to snap the neck of the scout when he was rounding them up. Because my Daddy found it so easy to pick the scrawny boy and use him like a bowling ball, knocking them down like pins to drag them back to this spot.

Maybe it’s because the smell of the girl’s blood quickly pooling on the ground is clearly having an effect on my Daddy, teeth bared and growling. Maybe they don’t realise that it’s OK to drink it like Daddy’s doing, it’s nice, like the sweetest juice. People often don’t understand that but Daddy showed me. He slurps it enthusiastically, bringing it up to his mouth not at all minding the splashes decorating his jacket,

Daddy mimics the ringleaders gun gesture, the pointing finger that determines the lucky winner, the first to ride, the first to taste, the first to pound with fist or cock. My hips buck at the thought. Yes Daddy, take charge, show them it’s OK. “You,” he points at the boy in the middle, who begins to blub, liquid pouring from his face and staining his jeans with a dark patch from his crotch. “You, take her…”

I lay back and wait; wait to give the boys special treat. So grateful that Daddy is sharing me. So grateful that he can help those boys get what they want. So grateful that we came rambling today.

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One Hot Night

And as he took me….I felt him fly…


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