It was very exciting to be going on a date. I’d never been on a date before.
Daddy said the man was really quite sweet; the one he’d picked from the computer. Something fun to play with. Daddy said to be nice to the man, to be a good girl. I know how to be a good girl.
I knew better than to question Daddy’s motives. Why I had to meet the man, why he’d chosen we watch a film together. I suspected Daddy had a plan, perhaps a lesson. Or maybe a treat for Daddy and me to share? I quell my excitement at the idea of Daddy’s secret plots and plaster on my bestest, most polite smile to meet the man outside the brashly lit foyer.
The man is nervous. It’s written obviously across his podgy face. He stutters and splurts out awkward words about this and that. His dire drivel and anxious laughs making him all the less attractive. On he yammers, as he pays for our tickets with notes grasped in shaky cold hands.
It’s only been a few minutes and already I think perhaps I don’t like dates. He won’t shut up. Blabbing on about rubbish I don’t care about. I don’t care about him, not really. He must know that, right?
I wonder what Daddy told him in the messages on the computer, the ones he wrote for me. I wonder what Daddy told him that’s making him reek of desperation as he bleats on about his worthless life. I wonder what Daddy told him that makes him think it’s OK to touch me, to lay his hand on my arm. I wonder if he can tell that I’d rip that arm off in a heartbeat, under any other circumstances.
Soon his words turn into questions. I don’t like questions. He probes about my life, my Daddy, where I live and where I’ve been. So many questions, so many that I don’t know the answers to. Daddy knows those things. That’s what Daddies do.
Eventually the lights go out and the wall lights up with a crash of noise. This is not what I was expecting at all. It’s loud and it draws the monsters from the depths of my mind.
I don’t think I like dates at all. The film is too big, too loud, too intrusive. Daddy lets me watch films sometimes. We watch them quietly at home, on whatever small TV we find, in whatever house we take to stay in. He lets me watch happy films about princesses and princes and dungeon play rooms.
This isn’t a film. Its lots of little films shouting about things people must buy and things people must do. Images of saccharine sentiment designed to make you believe you can achieve the perfect life and have the perfect family, with just the right type of ice cream; or that the perfect car will get you the perfect amount of rampant fucking. I see their deceit and it disgusts me.
I sit and seethe at the screen, I seethe at the man’s hand working its way up my thigh, I seethe at the beads of sweat appearing across his top lip.
My monsters and I joined in a swirling silent rampage of hatred at this place.
I almost give a start when Daddy’s hand is placed silently on my shoulder. Almost.
But I’m a good girl and I know better than to make a sound when Daddy comes to find me in the dark. In an instant the monsters vanish at the comfort of his touch and my seething settles into calm. My Daddy is here to protect me, to keep me safe, to quiet the monsters. Even in the darkest of nights.
He didn’t come for me though. Not this time. I can tell by the softness of his touch. Hunting hands with a deliberate delicateness. “Feet,” he whispers in my ear as he slides a pair of cable ties into my hand.
“Sorry?” the man asks me in his pathetic mannerism. Daddy has already slunk back into the darkness of the seats behind. Quiet like a wolf on the prowl.
“Oh nothing!” I smile brightly at him as the adverts come to a close. “I’m very excited to see the film. Do you think it will have princesses in it?” I grasp his hand tightly and swing my legs back and forth in the big seat. He smiles awkwardly at me with his ugly face.
I am very excited. Now.
A cartoon rolls on in front, flashing light across the cinema. There are princesses and monsters and knights too. Silly baby princesses, not like the ones I watch now. I prefer the grown up princess films. Not that I am remotely interested…not now.
Glancing back I catch glimpses of my Daddy in the dark. Relaxed and comfortable in his chair. Waiting patiently for the right time. My Daddy is clever like that.
The man turns to me and looks concerned by my constant fidgeting. “We can leave if you’re not enjoying it?” He offers in a low, garlic tinged breath, clearly afraid of disturbing the other guests.
“Oh no!” I reassure him in my best voice. “I’m just a little distracted.” To my mind the man has become a lamb, a pathetic little bleating lamb, consumed with concern for causing offence. He should be concerned with me.
I can see him getting nervous and a myriad of reasons flash across his mind, each one doused in self-loathing. Daddy taught me to see these things. He showed me how to read their minds.
A nervous lamb is harder catch, so I act quickly to comfort him.
“Distracted by you.” I whisper in his ear with my most sultry of voices. I want to vomit as I say the words, so painfully crass. His reaction is perfect though. The smell of arousal fast and thick to my keen nose A doggy snout good for hunting as my Daddy calls it. Just like him.
I lean in for a kiss and slide my hand down his arm. Kiss, stroke, sigh, tilt head, kiss, grasp, sigh, kiss, stroke, kiss, grope and sigh. My actions flowing like a well-rehearsed act. The noise of the film melting into the distance as our little dance takes the spotlight. I play his body like a toy. Press here, kiss there and pull this lever. All too easy and boring.
The little lamb pants with excitement. It’s clear he’s never had so much fun before. Slipping on to my knees before him raises a panic, he shakes his head and his arms tug at me in a fluster.
Silly lamby-man. It’s my cock now and I will have it.
“Shhhh…” I instruct him and hold his hand firmly against his leg. He will not prevent me from being a good girl and following my Daddy’s instructions. Tie his feet, Daddy instructed, and so I shall.
Silently I unzip his jeans and pull them down around his knees. His cock stands firmly to attention, twitching with each throb of his rushing heart. I feel myself get wet, less from the cock and more from the blood it contains. I feel it pulsing and rushing as I grip it firmly, guiding it into my mouth.
The sweet taste of pre-cum makes me growl and buck against his leg, the impact acting as perfect distraction as I skilfully slip a tie around his ankles and strap him to the chair. Such a good little lamb, he doesn’t even notice the restraint as I continue to lick his shaft up and down.
Drawing my claws up his legs, I leave little red stripes on his pale white flesh. I draw out a gasp of confused pleasure from his gaping mouth.
The lambs little gasp is greeted by Daddy’s big hand forced down his throat. I don’t need to look up to know what’s happening. The gurgle and cough of the man tells me enough. The throb of shock in his cock confirms it. Daddy’s hand thrust deep down his mouth keeps him quiet and in place while we have our fun.
With arms flailing the stupid man tries to retaliate, clever Daddy is quick to catch them with his free hand and secure them firmly behind his back.
Good little lamb, bound up nice and neat for the slaughter.
I feel his cock get a little limp as the fear and adrenaline takes effect. Bad boy. It’s my cock. My treat. I earned it by being subjected to your bleating, I will have it.
I dig my fingers deep into the soft flesh of his inner thigh, the pressure forcing his cock hard again. The pain makes him struggle. I make him still by biting down.
The muffled yelp is met by shushing from other viewers sat in front. They don’t turn around, too consumed by the images on the screen. Poor distressed lamb, no one is paying any attention to you.
In his panic, the bleating lamb bites down on Daddy’s hand and actually draws blood. Daddy’s growl is low and thunderous, lost in the music of the film. The smell of Daddy blood hits me and draws up my animal desire. The irony aroma wakes my little wolf inside, the protective cub. How dare he try to hurt my Daddy!
Growling low, I bite down hard on his cock. He tenses in a shudder. I am rewarded with a hot metallic jet into the back of my mouth. My treat. I earned it. I will have it.
The slightest spill of his blood dribbles out of the corner of my mouth as I suck down and drink up his life. I find myself lost in a haze of bloodlust, I’m barely aware of the words Daddy whispers into his ear, a shining knife at the lamb’s neck.
I feel our sacrifice waver in fear and wobble from the river of blood that flows into my eager mouth. A moment later he goes limp altogether. Daddy’s blade has made its cut and we have our slaughtered meat.
Coming up from his ruined lap I smile a bright smile at my Daddy. A beautiful glistening red smile. The thick blood licked off my face by my caring Daddy as we embrace.
“Well done my little wolfgirl,” Daddy praises me as he pushes me down and takes me. Thrusting himself deep into my bloodied mouth. I climb on to the corpse and use his fat head to balance as I pleasure Daddy. The man acting as a squishy buffer against the force of Daddy’s thrusts into my wet mouth.
The other patrons are oblivious, sucked into the mindless world of moving images. They don’t hear as Daddy releases with a roar into my throat, masked by the barrage of noise from the screen. They don’t see the trickles of lamb’s blood running from his redundant appendage and down the tiered flooring. They don’t notice as we slip out of the fire exit, instead they’re watching the screen so intently, watching the land of make-believe and magic, watching like a good little flock. All ripe for the slaughter.