Dark Star, The Nineteenth Chapter – Praying

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Why is she wearing a funny dress Daddy?

It’s not really a dress my darkling, it’s what she has to wear for work. It’s like a uniform.

For work? What does she do?…and why won’t she be quiet? Who’s she talking to?

Such a curious girl.” Daddy chuckles at my line of questioning and scoops me into his arms.

We look down at the figure shrouded in black; it contrasts beautifully against the white accent, decorated with fresh droplets of blood. Each one a mere speck compared to the shiny island of red seeping out from her hidden wounds and staining the floor.

She has pretty eyes, even though the tears, they blink up at me from behind her rosary. She looks sweet on her knees, she’s far from broken, seemingly the words tripping from her lips are providing some kind of perceived protection.

I kiss him and squirm down from Daddy’s arms to move close to her face until we’re practically nose to nose, her volume increases, as if her words could repel me.

Over and over she confirms her faith, that He will protect her, she trusts in Him, He will save her, she is the most devoted of lambs in his flock. If she’s suffering it’s because He chooses it.

I recognise the sentiment, I relate… but I know she’s wrong. “Fuck your God.” I spit at her “MY Daddy knows best

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That’s my girl.” Daddy’s praise comes with strong hands pulling me into towards him. Spinning me around so his mouth can lock onto mine, one hand clamped around the back of my neck. The other forcing it’s way up my skirt, painfully parting my already sore lips to force dry fingers into my girl parts. Daddy loved me hard this morning. Waking me with his rampant cock forced inside, whispering promises of how he had something to show me, something special.

My precious Blade,” he held me as I cried from pain, “My beautiful girl, your Daddy loves you. Your Daddy wants to show you how to rid the world of true evil. Together we can do it.

Digging his fingernails deep into my hips to thrust deeper Daddy drew blood. Deep red essence of life. Paint to anoint me as he made his promises, smearing a dark red cross across my chest. “We will save them Blade, the foolish followers, a flock of the weak and ignorant. Too pathetic to take responsibility for their actions they blame their God.

Thrust.

They worship their God.”

Thrust.

They thank their God.

Thrust.

What fucking God?

Daddy thrust again, filling me with hot salty treats that flowed out as Daddy held me. He held me for so long, tight in his arms until he stopped shaking, until he stopped repeating over and over “God never fucking saved me… I saved myself.”

Daddy shows me now, he shows me how ignorant she is, how she thinks that simply by turning her eyes away she can escape the scene playing out in front of her. That simply not seeing will prevent her from flinching every time Daddy’s loving fist connects with my face.

How she thinks that speaking her sacred words of false protection will prevent her from hearing my pained cries. The ones that distort her pretty face with an obvious flash of horror and revulsion. Harder, louder, faster she repeats her prayer, almost babbling incoherently. I know she still hears Daddy’s grunts as he forces inside of me. I know she still smells the blood from my abused torn cunt. Daddy’s abused cunt.

How she thinks that by dedicating herself to God that he will save her, that God will rescue her from Daddy’s lesson. She would do well to learn and learn fast. She cannot sustain that blood loss, she cannot survive further testing of her faith, pushing of her pain barriers without giving in to Daddy’s lesson.

A lesson he begins against in earnest having used me properly and discarded me to the corner of the room. Here I shall watch him work. I curl a blanket around my bruised body, flinching at the lasting evidence of Daddy’s adoration. This new drive has increased his passion and it shows in welts and wounds that do not have time to heal. I am a map of his motivation to save their souls, to show them the light, to bring them face to face with the harsh, honest reality that God isn’t coming to save them. They must save themselves.

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