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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