This one will be a good one. He took much longer than the others. Fought back harder.

Daddy had to get the chains for this one.

Perhaps it’s because he’s older than the other pets. I wouldn’t call this one a boy.

You can see his mind working. All the time processing, looking, searching for an escape.

When he thinks we’re not watching, when Daddy gets distracted and turns his attention to me instead, I still see him plotting his next move. I catch glimpses in between Daddy’s thrusts.

When he thinks I’m not looking, I see him pulling at the restraints, testing anchor points, feeling around the floor, using the small amount of mobility he’s been granted to feel around. What is he looking for? A weapon? He won’t find any.

His words are the most clever, the most telling of his desire to survive. I like it. But then is that the point? What he was aiming for? The way he pleaded with us, telling us his name over and over, explaining his life, his wife, the love he has for his children. He made himself more human.

Now he’s real, he has a background, a story.

His death will really mean something.

To someone.

Maybe even to me.

The blood arcs in beautiful crescents across the floor.  The spray deep red against the bleached floorboards. Daddy’s painting with his fists again. Daddy’s making music with his fists again.

The sight, the sound, the smell; it stirs something within me. Something I know well. The beast Daddy looks to tame. It seems to stir something within the man too, a reaction somewhat opposed to my own. The fear of a man encountering something terrifying for the first time. Struck dumb and white.

Hasn’t he ever seen himself bleed before?

Could he really have lived a life so rosy that this is the first time he’s ever faced his own mortality? The very real acknowledgement that we are just bundles of meat and bones, fragile and fleeting, especially under Daddy’s charge.

There’s nothing quite like the sight of a man who’s seen his own bile for the first and last time. That, Daddy tells me, is what life really looks like.

The panic sets in, manifesting in a physical response that would border on violent were he not so well restrained. The chains rattle noisily against his futile attempts.

A well placed strike to the temple brings some respite. Eyes rolling back, the man is quiet for a moment.

A quiet moment for Daddy and I to share. His blood soaked fist brought to my mouth to lap up. A blood soaked fist that becomes a claw, pinning me up against the wall. Daddy’s face just inches from mine as he pushes deep inside. Daddy’s face consumed with the darkness that takes him, his pupils so large I feel myself lost in them, lost in him. Lost in the lust that wraps around us. Lust that muffles the senses and clouds the world outside. Outside of us. Outside of this moment. Outside of our reality.

Moans signify the man’s awakening. Conscious once more and trying a different tact. When the man finds his words he uses them, overcoming the lisp from swollen lips he pleads with us, tries to befriend us. “I’m just like you,” he promises, “We can be friends. You seem like good people”

Words that are largely ignored. Daddy is waiting, biding his time. Enjoying this one. No words could possibly work on my Daddy, he will have his satiation, his dark thirst quenched. It’s the least this pathetic meat sack can do.

Then a sentence that finally gets Daddy’s attention. “I’ll do anything…please.”

Daddy releases me, girl parts still aching from his vigorous loving he drops me to the floor. “Tell me more…,” he requests, turning his attention to the man. The sudden shift in Daddy’s attention clearly scares the man but his survival instinct is too strong to let this hook go. He attempts to reel Daddy in.

“I promise I have contacts. I can get you anything you want. I know people.”

“FUCK what you can get me…,” Daddy growls at him. “What would you DO now, right now?”

“Anything. Anything,” the man stammers.

“Anything?” Daddy queries, convinced by the man’s enthused nods. He means it.

I smile. Daddy is so clever. I’ve seen this before, all of this. Daddy will find a way to surprise them. He always does. He takes special pleasure from shocking even the most desperate of men. ‘It’s like peeling away the last morsel of their pathetic “humanity”… their pathetic self-deceit”, Daddy had told me.

I focus now, to see what Daddy sees.

“Then take her,” Daddy instructs, vaguely gesturing towards me.

“Daddy!” I exclaim. I don’t want that vile man inside me. Inside Daddy’s cunt. That’s not his.

“Wha… wha…?” the man begins but is soon cut off by Daddy’s cool words. “If you want to be free. Fuck her. Take her. Rape her. You said you’d do anything.” His words slowing. “Show. Me.”

Gauntlet thrown. I am the key to this man’s freedom. Me and my extreme lack of consent.

Any colour left in the man’s face quickly drains. He looks sick to his stomach. Sickness I echo. My skin crawling at the thought of him touching me.

I must do as Daddy requires, I remind myself. I click into my internal revolving mantra of “Daddy knows best”, the soundtrack to his good girl. It battles to be heard above the increasingly noisy objections of a beast who refuses to be subjugated.

Daddy rests his hands behind his back and waits, watching the man process this challenge, completely cool in his observation. His eyes flicker briefly in my direction, no love registering on his face, no acknowledgement of the message I desperately attempt to convey.

Please Daddy. Please don’t make me do this… Not again.

The clown’s face flickers across my vision. The fat puppet’s face too. The gang of boys lurch into view, jeering and cruel. They all begin to sing a slurred chorus in the depths of my mind.

“He doesn’t even give a fuck.” whispers the beast.

I ignore it and turn up my mantra, shouting internally “Daddy knows best… Daddy knows best… Daddy knows best…”

“He didn’t stop those boys.” whispers the beast. “He doesn’t even want to protect you.”

“Not true.” I shout back, closing my eyes shut and clamping my hand over my mouth to keep the argument from spilling out. “Daddy got them for me, we stopped them forever.”

“But now he’s going to let that vile little man put his man-parts inside you and it’s going to hurt… oh how it will hurt, he’s going to hurt you and Daddy’s going to let him.” Words slipping into a sing-song rhyme that wins the battle for air-time in my mind.

“He’s going to hurt you and Daddy’s going to let him… He’s going to hurt you….”

“NO!”

“No, no, no, no, no, no.”

My eyes remain closed as the beast takes over. His “No” booming around the room, spoken in my voice…

…Eternity passes…

…and no time at all.

I blink, I think. Or maybe I sleep.

Everything is the same…

…and different.

I feel like a shard has snapped of the edge of my mind.

The world hits me smack in the senses. It’s jarring and refreshing.

I don’t see the beast’s protective actions but I feel them as I wake, aching deep into my muscles. But not from my cunt, that’s taken no abuse. “And nor shall it.” warns the beast before skulking into his resting place within.

The room is different. The light has changed. The air tastes different. Everything is different. I feel lost in myself and struggle to know who I am. All I feel is a struggle with myself and the dark shadow of my beast inside. I hope it’s still inside.

Maybe I allowed the beast off the leash? Or maybe I was just too weak to fight? Maybe I needed him? Just this once.

Everything is confused. Everything is so absolute.

I know the beast is bad because he says bad things about Daddy and Daddy says we should tame him and Daddy is always right but… maybe he protected me, just this once, maybe that would be OK and I wouldn’t get in trouble. Maybe the beast isn’t all bad. Maybe he doesn’t need to be tamed, if he helps me and protects me…

“Maybe you’ll understand?” I say as I stroke my Daddy’s face, my quiet words are hopeful but receive no response from either of the bodies in the room.

I look at Daddy’s face, or the poor imposter that it could be. Daddy’s face is warm and vibrant and full of rose tints. This face is sharp, cold and blue. Like Daddy’s face through a warped mirror in winter.

I turn away, uncertain. I turn away and see that wretched man.

The man couldn’t do me any harm now, if he could be identified as a man at all. The chains were sharp in places, still buried deep into his severed flesh.

I’ve been here before.

I give my Daddy’s body a once over, relieved to find him free from blood and broken bones. The deadness in his eyes at odds with his fine physical form. If we didn’t hurt him, why does he look so disappointed, so vacant?

I’ve been here before.

He rises and leaves the room slowly, stopping at the door to survey the massacre. He shakes his head and steps out, calling behind him “I’ll send another to clean up. Perhaps they can learn a lesson even if you can’t.”

I’ve been here before.

This time I don’t rush out after him. I follow with calm, measured pace.

“If I can’t”? Daddy’s words play on repeat in my head. What does that mean?

Daddy moves like a panther stalking prey, pacing the frosty yard in front of me as I make my way back to the cottage, desperate to clean the remaining lumps of potential rapist from my hair. I brace myself for the pounce that never comes.

The adrenaline continues to course as I discard my clothes in the porch, another bag for the incinerator, too damaged to be reused. Too full of former human.

My heart races, it brings the benefit of being incredibly focussed, careful not to mark anything with the crimson liquid dripping from my sodden hair as I skip on tiptoes into the bathroom.

But I don’t get to luxuriate in a hot bath, or enjoy a refreshing warm shower. I am not treated to the cleansing rinse I so desire.

I regain consciousness in the yard. Outside the barn that houses the increasing number of pets we’ve been adopting. I hear them, they’re getting increasingly antsy, they do that when Daddy’s nearby, they’re not sure of him yet even though I defend him all the time. I explain his lessons. Some of them try to use their words to poison me but they just don’t know yet…

“Daddy knows best,” my internal monologue spoken out loud by the Daddy in question. My Daddy… my Daddy who is holding a hose pointed right at me and set to jet.

He washes me me down with freezing water. The blood runs away, the water getting increasingly clear.

The colder I get, the more it hurts.

Daddy shouts to make himself heard above the roar. “I’ve had enough Blade. I am not accepting your beast as an excuse anymore. You will obey me. You will show your love for me. You will do as you are told. You will be my good girl or so help me g…. or so help me, I will punish you, as often and for as long as it takes.”

Punish? My Daddy teaches me lessons, he doesn’t punish me.

He shuts off the painful power spray and wraps me up in a large towel, quickly carrying me into the warmth of the cottage, sitting us both in front of the fire. My skin explodes from the change in temperature, burning hot and tender. “It’s OK my darkling, my special princess, I’ve saved you. No more freezing water now, you’re all clean. You’re all warm now. You’re all better. Daddy’s got you.”

Daddy snaps back into focus. I feel his presence like a wall of heat and I’m overwhelmed with emotion. Emotion that bursts out in sobbing tears.

My skin is sore to the touch, even though Daddy uses lots of his special wetness-maker, the one that comes with a pump; the one I’m allowed only when he chooses, when needs to use his cunt over and over. It still hurts. Pain that mingles with pleasure, pain that bursts with love, my Daddy’s love.

“I was never going to let him hurt you.” Daddy explains as he gently and slowly pushes inside.

My stomach drops. I made a mistake.

“I had a lesson Blade,” Daddy goes on, “It was an important lesson in learning people’s minds. In learning about how to work them, how to use them. How to push them. Learning what motivates them. I wanted to show you… and now I can’t. And it’s your fault.”

I close my eyes against the debilitating regret. What have I done?

“Now you want to be my good girl don’t you?” Daddy asks, building me closer to release.

I nod, desperately “Please Daddy, please forgive me.”

“Then I expect complete obedience from you. Don’t disappoint me again. You will trust me. You will learn my lessons and in return I will love you.Like this. ” He slides a hand in between us, the one that gets me so close.

“You want your Daddy to love you, don’t you my darkling?” Daddy offers.

“Yes Daddy, yes I do.”

“Then you will bring yourself under control. We will have no more mistakes like this.You will not fail me again. If you fail, I will punish you. If you fail, how can I love you? And I want to love you.”

The beast stirs from his slumber but I reign him in. I cage him in the blossoming orgasm that takes me. This. This is what I want. This and to be loved and to be forgiven and oh Daddy…

As the pleasure consumes me, all pain is forgotten and I pledge in that moment. “Yes Daddy, I will give you my everything. I will be everything you want me to be. You are my everything as I am yours.” Flying on the bliss of our connection I am certain this is right.

Daddy knows best.

Daddy will teach me how to work people like he can.

Daddy is my world and I know I can be good for him.

As long as Daddy loves me, everything is OK.

As long as I’m being good Daddy will love me.

Daddy knows best.