“Daddy she has a pretty dress”
I think the waitress hears me as she walks away from the table; walking slightly taller with more of a strut.
“She does.” Daddy agrees. “If you’re really good and finish your tea and cake, maybe we can buy you one like it.” He offers kindly.
“But I want the one she is wearing now so I look pretty like her”
He chuckles, amused by my association with the thing itself.
“I’m sure if you asked really nicely she might let you borrow it. She seems a lovely girl, she may even play with you if you ask nicely.”
“Oh do you think so Daddy? She looks just lovely. Will you get her for me Daddy, please?”
“Of course precious. I’d get the moon for you!”
“Thank you Daddy.” I beam at him, “Oh look, she’s smiling. She did hear me.”
I wave energetically, making her blush.
She leans into to speak to her colleague at the coffee machine and they both giggle, surreptitiously looking in our direction. They think they’re being subtle but they are practically panting. Even from this distance I see the hunger burning in their eyes, a hunger for my Daddy.
He turns slightly, soaking up their interest and flashing them a smile. A coaxing smile.
In my mind’s eye the scene becomes the brash lights of a studio with my Daddy on display, polished and shining with a fixed smile.
“Phone now and place your bid for this auction! You know you want it. You know you need it. Be the envy of all your friends!” Tempting them, drawing them in… “don’t delay, call today!”
The object of desire. The thing you simply must have. Beaming his best beaming bright white smile, artificially illuminated under the glare of the lights.
“…but wait, there’s more…phone today and you get not one, but two! All for the same price!! Yes, that’s right, two for the price of one! Today only, seize this opportunity before it’s gone!!”
I flash them my bestest smile too, my most innocent smile. The one I use to hide behind. The one that masks the thoughts that whisper, all the time, luring me into the darkness at the back of my mind.
The two girls respond in tandem, their body language giving away the words we cannot hear.
“Oh she’s so cute… and so is he…”
The shift is subtle as they take the stance of rivals, gripped by consumer fever and each desperate to be the winner in this stake. Daddy sees it too, turning back to me and waiting patiently, he is the embodiment of quiet confidence.
I see him mentally counting down how long it takes before our table is approached again. His charm offensive ticking all the right boxes to lure not one but both girls… two for the price of one.
Oh how they will pay.
The rest of tea is a surreal affair. Before long the “Closed” sign is up and we’re the only ones left in the cafe. They each aim to impress us more than the other, bringing this and that. I get to taste every single cake on the counter. Slumping back into my seat I rub my slightly swollen belly.
One of the girls, Blondie, the tall golden haired one with a full chest, leans her elbow on the table, head in her hand, her big blue eyes transfixed by Daddy and his funny story. The other girl, Chestnut, sits over from me and chatters away about something I don’t care to take any interest in. She’s clearly trying to win me over in the hope that I will influence Daddy to take her home instead.
“Would you rub my tummy, please?” I ask Chestnut. “I’m so full of cake!” She’s slightly taken aback but soon responds by sliding round to my side of the booth “At your service little lady” she says, a bright smile masking her discomfort.
My turn to reel her in. I sidle up close and nuzzle in against her chest. Her heart rate spikes. Taking her hand I guide it in smooth circles over my little belly.
Consciously or not, she intertwines our fingers.. I start to ask her simple questions, cutting her off with more questions if her answers are too long. That’s right, prancing deer, lets keep the focus on you. Lets keep you looking inside and not at me and the games I’m playing. Before long I’ve guided her onto the topic of girls and things she likes about them, increasingly alluding towards the idea of her and Blondie.
“Really? She’s sooo pretty. You must have thought about it at least once!” I ask a little louder than necessary. Her eyes glance over to Blondie whose interest is peaked by my words. They lock eyes and seem lost in a silent negotiation.
Aware that all we need is for them to acknowledge the possibility, Daddy and I grab back their attention. We work beautifully as a pair. We’d be able to rob a king if we really wanted.
Chestnut seems a bit flustered but I soon get her back on track talking about a boy she likes. I start her hand stroking my belly again. My hand taking the concentric circles lower and lower. She is aware, her inner beast at least, but she doesn’t realise what’s happening. I smell the animal excitement on her skin. My other hand strokes her neck and circles her ear. The slut is so easy to play. She isn’t even a challenge.
Just at the moment that her hand slips down over my knickers Daddy goes in for the kill and grabs Blondie for a passionate kiss. Chestnut takes a breath of surprise and I kiss her before she is able to protest, thrusting her soft fingers down into my wetness.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Daddy slip a vial of medicine into each of their glasses while they’re both distracted.
For a short while Daddy and I endure their pathetic embraces and the meaningless sexual exchanges that thrill and excite them. Eventually orchestrating it so they are face to face, sandwiched between us. We look at each other, bored of their antics and plotting our next move as they kiss one another.
“Drink up girls.” Daddy orders. Which they do. Such obedient cattle to the slaughter.
It’s a relief when they are both soon fast asleep on the floor. Daddy begins his meticulous process of bundling them up and clearing up the traces of our presence. I help by smushing remnants of cake into his face which makes him laugh.
“Don’t mess up the dress now, little one. It would be a shame to ruin it before you’ve had a chance to wear it”
“It’s ok Daddy. We can make it more pretty. We can finger paint pretty red patterns on it.” Gesturing with my little fingers, I draw my nails across my own face. “I like red. It’s super pretty.”
“What a wonderful idea! Then we better make some red paint to play with.”
Sharing a dark, secret smile I take the opportunity to show how well I’ve learnt.
“We need the cutty cuttys Daddy, to make the paint, to make them pretty”
“Such a clever girl. Quickly then, let’s get them home and then we can make art.”
My excitement at our plan dominates the short drive home, chattering at Daddy with my ideas, so pleased to have such abundant supplies to create my masterpiece. He listens appreciatively. He’s a good Daddy, he likes to give me all the things that make me happy.
“They’re both being very good and quiet Daddy.” I say appreciatively, stroking the sleeping face of the slumbering girl nearest to me. They look like they’re cuddling, draped over each other on the floor of the kitchen.
“That’s because they drank all their special medicine.” Daddy tells me with a wink.
I take out our special box in preparation and pass it to him, scalpels gleaming inside.
The ruby river is more than enough to make the dress pretty. I finger paint roses, pretty flower patterns. I make the dress even more beautiful. I can’t wait to wear it.
Inspired and with an abundance of deliciously thick deep red paint I find myself drawn in to a section of white wall, a blank white canvas, slightly marked from the pictures that once hung there. Discarded when we made this our home. Burnt along with the stupid man we took it from.
The wall draws me in, I see the picture before I begin. My fingers simply working to reveal my vision. I’m so engrossed in my artistic pursuits I don’t hear Chestnut stirring, it’s my Daddy’s reply I hear first, bringing me back into the room.
“Shut up or I’ll shut you up.”
His words are ineffectual and it takes a strong Daddy hand clamped over her mouth and a firm knee to the cunt to make the dumb slut be quiet. A second strike to her skull knocks her unconscious again, long enough for Daddy to secure her to a chair, thick tape wrapped around her head to keep the screaming at bay.
On waking her eyes dart wildly, from me and my painting, to my Daddy, to the drained corpse of her former co-worker splayed on the floor, Daddy opened her up nice and wide to get at all the pretty paint, a selection for my palate. Smushed internal organs smeared across the wall add texture to my artwork.
Struggling against the restraints does her no good, Daddy’s done well to hold her in place.To keep her there. To keep her for me.
I have an inspired idea.
“Can we keep this one Daddy? Then I can have red paint whenever I like!”
“Of course my darkling, now the other is all drained of paint we can use it as meat. It’s good meat” he says with a grin, grabbing onto a thick thigh “It will keep her alive for long enough for you to finish the piece.”
Getting close to the girl he makes sure his next words serve as threat “Of course she mustn’t scream when we take this off to feed her” he warns, prodding at the tape across her mouth. “Or we’ll have to teach her what happens to disobedient girls.” His expression suggests he might enjoy teaching her a lesson.
“You wanted to come home with us and now you have. You wanted to serve us, to provide treats for me and my girl and now you will.You will bleed for my Blade.” Daddy reminds her of her place, of how desperate she was to win us with her excellent service. He’s such a generous Daddy giving her this opportunity.
That happy thought remains as I paint, just a little more every day, using special paint from a willing girl fulfilling her purpose; dying to please me, at my service.