“Is it OK that I want to hurt them?” It’s been a distracting question, one demanding more of my attention, pushing itself to the forefront of my mind and stomping about like an unwelcome house guest.
It keeps shouting at me when I’m so trying to learn my lessons and be a good girl.
When Daddy hurts me it means he loves me, bruises are my reminder, my scars a promise.
I don’t love the boys.
I do love the way their expressions twist, deformed from the pain.
I do love the question in their eyes, the sick confusion, trying and failing to process the ‘why’.
I do love the feel of ripping flesh, watching the bruises bloom, making blood flow.
I love to pass my lessons on, to unleash on them what Daddy has taught me.
But I don’t love them. I just want to play, to teach them and to show everything I will do for him.
Slowing in pace, Daddy brings his attention to me, cupping my face in his hands and looking down with sincere expression. “Of course my darkling… you just want to make friends. You need them to be good, like you are for Daddy….”
“I do it to you because I love you.” He strokes my hair. “You do it to them because you know how good boys and girls can be and you want to show them. Because you are the most special girl.” Leaning in he kisses me gently on the cheek. “You do it because it is what you were made for.”
Caressing my face he growls soft and low. “It’s why I made you.”
The slap is immediate and makes my vision dance with white spots. I wasn’t expecting him to hit me. The tears come instantly. “I’m sorry Daddy!” I say as a reflex. “What did I do?” The puzzled look on my face obvious, driven by fear and confusion.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He smiles and slaps me again. The pain is sharp and blossoms across my cheek. “But I think I might need to remind you of a few basic lessons.”
“No Daddy! I know them. I do.” I plead desperately with him. His lessons are always the hardest. He doesn’t give me lessons for fun. He gives them so I will learn. “I promise Daddy...” My pleas trail off as I know it’s no use. He will teach me. I will learn.
He leaves the room, leaving me sat there cold and alone on the stone floor. When he returns, he has my pet in his hand. The beaten and bruised boy scrabbles on the ground as Daddy drags him into the room and throws him at my feet.
“You hurt him. Those are your marks.” He directs me. “Remember?” His voice is harsh.
“Yes Daddy.” I answer with apprehension.
“You didn’t break a single bone.”
“You’re going soft.”
“I like this one. I want to keep him” I say without thinking.
His reply is terrifying. “You want...”
I begin to crawl back. “No Daddy.” Panting with fear of his lessons. “I’m sorry Daddy. I don’t want him. I don’t. I don’t want it any more. I don’t...”
He takes two strides forward and kicks the boy hard in the face. The crack of his jaw echoes around our bloodstained playroom.
“Finish him.” He commands.
“OK Daddy.” My voice is weak. Did he see my reaction to the boy being hurt? Did he see how much I felt the kick too? Does he know I like the boy really. Not love, but I do like him. He was my longest ever friend.
“You’ve had him for three days. That’s far too long.” He says plainly.
It wasn’t three days! It was forever! The voice in my head screams. He’s mine. My toy. I will keep him.
He must read my mind because his words become sharp like a knife. “Finish him or I will do it for you…”
“Don’t disappoint me.” The words hang in the air. A thing I couldn’t bear to be true.
Sobbing I get to my feet and walk to within kicking distance of the boy. He looks up at me, his eyes pleading. I want to help him but Daddy knows best.
“Hit him” Daddy’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I react instantly. I land a soft blow to the boy’s face. He whimpers and begins to back away.
“That’s not how you kick them.” Daddy’s instructions are cold. “Harder. Kick him so he bleeds. So he lets out all the poison in his filthy body.” I step forward after the boy and kick him harder. My foot lands on his nose and crushes it easily, exploding blood across his face and my foot.
“Better. Good girl.” Daddy encourages me.
The smell of fresh blood hits my senses and the beast within wakes. I take a deep breath, drinking in the enchanting aroma and let the haze come down over me.
I kick the boy again. “Bleed.” I murmur as I relentlessly assault him. “Bleed for Daddy.”
Daddy comes close and places a hand on my neck. “That’s my girl.”
His touch is hot and sends waves of pleasure down my spine. “Now take him.” In his other hand he holds my special belt. The one with the steel boy parts. The one Daddy lets me use to feel what it’s like when he gives me his special treats.
Stripping down to bare skin, I slip on the strap-on. The cold metal in my hand makes me feel strong, the thick leather belt around my waist giving me comfort.
Daddy strokes my bottom. “Take him” He commands as he positions himself behind me.
The boy is bleeding hard, glistening pools swell around his hands and knees as he holds position. He learnt that one fast. I helped him, I told him “Stay still, just like I do, show how grateful we are to get Daddy’s special treats.” He was so obedient so quickly that he didn’t even need a shock after the first couple; just the sight of the zappy stick was enough.
Oh he’s been such a well behaved friend. Can’t Daddy see this we should keep this one? Even just for a little longer.
I swirl my hand into the nearest pretty puddle, it’s warm and sticky between my fingers. “Come now little one, don’t get distracted” Daddy’s warning is well deserved and punctuated by a slap to my thighs. It snaps me back, pulling me away from the compulsion to just drink, to worry the wounds until they open completely and gush a delicious river.
When the blood’s all gone they stop playing, and Daddy wants to play now.
Smothering the metal part with blood is clever. I’ll make it all shiny and wet because that’s how Daddy likes to be inside me, especially when he cuts me there; the blood helps it to feel extra nice for him to slide in and out.
“No…” Daddy’s yell makes me jump. Why is he so mad? The question barely registers before I find myself landing hard. Swiped to the side with a solid movement of his arm, Daddy raises up, towering over me and the boy pet, our whimpers in harmony.
“You’ve. Gone. Soft.” Mindless blows to my body accompany each word, landing firmly on soft flesh.
I cower underneath him, cringing at the anger dripping from his every word “No broken bones and now you want to use lubricant to take him? What does he learn then?”
Leaning in to deliver his lesson Daddy catches sight of our entwined fingers. As a comfort seeking response to the wall of threat bearing down on us, the boy pet had reached out to me, gently joining hands.
I turn, shocked, to face the boy, remembering how pretty he was before, how he’d smiled at me with genuine warmth; he was so eager to help a girl in distress. Silly boy, silly pet. A mistake then, the biggest mistake now.
I throw his hand off mine and crawl backwards. Inching away physically and detaching myself emotionally. I stop remembering the smile and let myself see the gross mangled features of a worthless plaything who should have learned.
I see the flashes of emotion in his eyes, each one following close behind my own; realisation of the impact of his actions, regret at his poor choices, resignation to his fate. His surrender is drenched in sobs, mine silent with submission, bringing myself face down to kneel at Daddy’s feet.
Daddy’s laugh booms around the room, cruel in intent. “Ha ha, oh look, did you think you were really friends? She’d treat you nice and you could have cuddles? Not my Blade. Not my girl. I taught her better.”
“That’s. Not. How. It. Works” Daddy’s words broken with the exertion of thrusting inside the boy, taking the hole meant for me as I wait on the floor.
The beast claws within me, growing stronger, fuelled by the blood snaking across the floor and the boy’s screams. It responds to Daddy’s commands, without question, consuming my noisy mind-guest of doubt to be his very good girl, certain of my reason for being.
“He’s been a very naughty boy and needs to be punished.” Daddy isn’t shouting anymore. He knows he doesn’t need to.
“Come to face me little one. That’s it; round the other side…Push your special parts into his mouth”
Daddy holds still for me to get in place. The metal slides in easily, slick with tears and blood. It excites me, using the boy in this new way.
The boy resists, spluttering and gagging, he tries to fight but Daddy holds his head in place, a fist in his hair, so it pushes the metal back through the harness and against my sweet spot. Daddy sees the pleasure light up my face, he watches it build as he uses the boy to grind against me.
Even when the boy gets really heavy Daddy holds his weight up to make it feel nice for me, wrapping his arms around the boy’s chest and moving fast against him.
Daddy likes my explosion, he must because he has one of his own, gripping hard against the boy’s now lifeless body with a growl before casting him aside. The boy lands with a wet thump.
“Do you see why it’s OK, because they have to learn, don’t they? See what happens when they don’t?”
“Now there’s a good girl. No more questions.” he sighs into my hair curling me into his chest and I know I don’t need the pets or anything at all. I have my Daddy.