The tap and clatter and clang of the drums and the cymbals and the screeching bells rip and cut and thrash at my senses. It’s a mesmerising repetition of mixed sounds, voices and noise. Sliced and mixed and scratched into some form of music.
My head throbs and my vision is blurred. Red pulses flash and sparkle instead of the sight I once had. I try to find up. It swirls around me making me feel dizzy. I fall sideways.
Patting the ground clumsily with my hands I find the floor. It’s cold, hard and made of concrete. I’m used to waking up dazed in unfamiliar surroundings. Daddy gives me little lifts every now and then which put me to sleep. It’s fun.
I grope behind me to feel him. He’s not there. Not like always before. He’s not thrusting inside of me and holding me down and telling me what a precious little flower I am. A thorny rose. A vicious little monster who draws blood from the foolish and feeds it to him.
My voice wavers. I can’t feel him and I still can’t see. Why can’t I see?
Fear begins to well up inside of me. The music continues to press down on my senses, amplified by the lack of sight. I want it to stop.
It’s not pretty music like Daddy plays for me or like my little ballerina music box. They’re such pretty sounds. This sound is brash. Dirty. Offensive.
“Daddy, where are you?”
I ask meekly in hope my Daddy is there somewhere. Maybe he has a new test for me. Maybe this is a new lesson. Yes. That’s right. It must be a lesson. Clever Daddy does like to surprise me.
I steel myself and try to regain my senses. With some effort I roll onto my front and find a bearing. The ground, down, is in front of me. Cold, hard and very real. I push up with all my strength, letting out a whimper as sharp pains shoot up my arms.
A laughter begins to emanate from around me. At first it sounds like the music; another twisted track in this hellish sound. But the laughter continues, bending in and out of focus and sync and rhythm. It’s disjointed but like the rest of the world rolls into one endless stream.
“Silly girl” The voice punctuates the music. It doesn’t have the same tinny quality instead it’s rich with the reality of a deep voice present in the room.
“Daddy, is this a test?” I ask, now scared and shaking on my hands and knees.
“No.” The voice snaps at me. “Not Daddy.” He spits the words. “Daddy has gone and left you all alone. Its just you and me now princess.” He cackles menacingly.
“And me.” A small squeaky voice pipes up. “Princess, the clown and me.”
Slowly swinging my head from side to side as Daddy taught me I am able to work out where they are. I have some clarity although I still feel groggy and drugged. Drugged… The pieces slowly form in my mind from the coloured haze. I have been drugged.
Daddy, this is a test isn’t it?
“Who are you?” I ask with a low, growling tone. Silly fools think they can get the better of me? No one gets the better of me. I’m Daddy’s Blade. I’m his weapon. I will show them pain and drain their worthless blood down the gutter and…
“Silly girls should know better than to threaten.” The Clown’s voice interrupts my internal monologue of revenge. “This Clown isn’t very happy. He didn’t get the prize he was promised.”
“Not at first.” The little frog voice chimes in.
Daddy told me it’s rude to interrupt, I say silently to myself.
“No. The stupid fool,” Clown continues, “your ‘Daddy’ thought he could double cross me and keep your little whore ass for himself.” He speaks his name with a mocking voice.
“My Daddy,” I spit back with an emphasis on ‘My’, “My Daddy will come back and then you’ll be sorry.” I say confidently as I try to get to my knees. It’s of no use and the world collapses below me, letting me fall face first into the cold stone. A sharp pain shoots through my jaw. I shut it out. I grasp the pain and use it.
Again I claw my way up, up and onto my knees. Moving my head back I sense the gravity pulling it down. I’m so weak and I can’t stop the world around me swaying.
Glimpses of light flicker through the thick smoke. Smoke! It fills my lungs and I cough violently.
“Good girl. Drink up now.” Frogman instructs me. “Drink up all the happy potion in the air. Drink up and…” His words slur into incoherent cackles.
“Let me tell you Princess,” the Clown picks up where the Frogman left off. “Your Daddy promised us a reward for our work. We brought him all he wanted and our reward was supposed to be you. Well, now we have you…” His voice is sharp and menacing. He doesn’t want to give me treats, that’s for sure.
A cog slowly turns in my brain and an inkling of a plan forms. “Yes. You have me.” Attempting to feign a little excitement in my voice. “What does that mean? What do you want from me?” I ask as provocatively as possible.
“That’s right, good girl,” Daddy’s voice echoes through the fog in my mind, “distract them. Keep them dancing. And then…”
“What does that mean?” His voice is incredulous. “It means I get the birthday party I always wanted. The birthday party my stupid bitch mother wouldn’t let me have. She was mine. My sister. I deserved her. I wanted her. She was mine. Her cunt was mine!” He bellows at me. “And now… princess…” He settles with a drooling tone, “your cunt is mine.” The faint splatter of his spittle hits my face as he says “cunt”.
“Show them what they want little Blade.” Daddy instructs me. “Show them and when they open themselves up to you, tear their evil limbs from their rancid bodies.”
I turn to face the Clown. The shadow of the man is barely visible to me but I can see his big nose. Everything is distorted, like through thick and uneven glass.
“My cunt is yours?” I ask innocently. “Did Daddy tell you it was yours?” My words bright and full of anticipation. As if Daddy ever would, what lies between my legs is Daddy’s cunt. His.
I can hear the Clown man’s breathing. It stutters and shifts a gear as he tries to understand me. His mind slowly processing the thought that maybe I would take him willingly.
“Yes, princess,” he urges me on, “yes, just as your Daddy said.”
I laugh inside. For you Daddy. I will kill him for you.
“Oh goodie!” My words excited. I would clap if I could only move my body with any coherence. “Daddy said when I was grown up I would be able to play like a big girl… Are you going to show me how to play like a big girl?”
His grunt is all I need to hear. The idiot “Clown” has taken my bait.
The frogman continues to babble in the background as the Clown grabs me by the arms and drags me into the corner.
“Be a good girl and try not to squirm now.” He says with an unexpected sensitivity. Overwhelmed with excitement the violence in his voice has given way to simple, stupid desire.
I wonder if he even knows what a cunt looks like. Drop your pants Mr and lets see what you’re really made of! My thoughts seemingly orchestrating the world around me as he unzips at my unspoken command.
His naked body is a stark contrast to the garish striped and spotted over-sized suit. I make out the contrast despite my swimming vision. Underneath the make-up, the mask of a clown, he’s just pale and scrawny man driven by his cock, just like any other.
“Take him, my precious,” Daddy’s voice comes to my mind unexpectedly. I was going to turn and hit the Clown squarely in the nose with my elbow like Daddy had shown me.
“Take him?” The confused words slip out of my mouth.
“Yes, princess.” He mumbles at me, drool dribbling down my back.
The moment of surprise has passed, the Clown has my arms in his grip. Little strong fingers that dig in like nails. “Why Daddy?” I wail and begin to struggle.
“I said be still! Stop squirming” The Clown shouts at me, my words ruining his fantasy. “My sister, my cunt…” he whispers to himself “you can’t stop me now mummy.”
What happens next is a blur. He thrusts forward. I feel him, rough and hard, drive deep into me. I’m not even a little wet so the pain is excruciating and blossoms from within. But then it changes. Unexpectedly everything changes. He releases me and stumbles back, screaming in pain. My insides suddenly wet.
The stench of fresh blood cuts through the air and fills me. A clarity grips me and I can see. Feeling down in my special place I can feel the familiar slick of blood. Not my blood.
“Let him take you and show him why you’re Daddy’s little Blade.” His voice whispers in my mind.
“Daddy’s device?” I say to myself. Daddy’s little gift to make sure no-one takes me but him. A clever little chastity belt concealed deep inside. A single blade. Ready to cut anyone who dares take me without his permission.
I look around and see frogman passed out, green faced, in the corner of this filthy store room. The Clown staggers back, blood pissing from his split cock.
“You bitch…” he murmurs at me as he passes out.
Everything goes black and in a moment I am awake and screaming and sweating and Daddy is there, holding me tight.
“It’s OK my darkling.” His words are soothing. “It’s just a dream.” His hand strokes my slick wet hair. I feel my heart hammering against my chest. The fear and confusion lingers as an unwelcome coldness, it dissipates slowly, far too slowly when all I want is to feel the warmth of my Daddy’s safe arms.
The urge to respond, to fight against the dream demons or to run, to make my escape, that takes even longer. That takes the reassurance of Daddy slipping himself inside me with surprising tenderness, it takes gentle thrusts and his teeth sinking slow and deep into the soft flesh of neck. It takes my eyes accustoming to the darkness, taking in the outline of our bedroom, so familiar, of my toys and teddies, of my dresses hanging up all neatly as Daddy likes, and the glimpse of the leathered Clown face hanging on the wall.
“Just a dream…” I murmur as I drift back into my slumber, aching and wet from Daddy’s special treats. Just a dream…