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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} MB09 Door in the Closet (1) by Rachael Ross (M/f, Incest, Reluct,  Humil, Oral, SciFi)
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Date: Wed, 10 Dec 2008 01:10:02 -0500
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Note: Mixed Bag is a compilation of stories by Rachael Ross and
contains a Foreword and 65 chapters. It is being posted to ASSM
largely in sequence. See MB00 for a table of contents. All stories
copyrighted 2008 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. rache696@yahoo.com
visit my website at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rache/www/index.htm and see my
blog http://anarchyforbeginners.blogspot.com/ for additional
information. Thanks. -rr


Adults Only

Mixed Bag - Chapter Nine



The Door in the Closet

by rache


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Story Codes: M/f, Incest, Reluct, Humil, Oral, SciFi

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=




    The accident messed everything up and our lives weren't the same
afterwards. It had taken some of the life out of my dad and my mom
wasn't strong enough to keep the balance. I don't suppose I was
helping things very much either, being a sixteen year old girl and
headstrong like I am. Whatever the reasons, whoever was to blame, all
that matters is that we weren't very happy anymore.

    "Jilly!" my father's voice echoed through the house. "Jilly! Get
your ass in here!"

    I bit my bottom lip and looked up from the kitchen table at my
mother as she wiped the stove. When I was younger we used to eat our
dinners together as a family. Now we ate alone, the way we did
everything else.

    "Finish your supper," Mom said, her tone weary and resigned. "I'll
go."

    She left the kitchen and I picked at my plate, waiting for the
inevitable. I wasn't very hungry anymore.

    "Not you, bitch!" Daddy said loudly. "I want Jilly to do it! Get
her in here! Jilly!"

    I didn't wait for my mom to come back. I got up from the table and
went to the den where my dad was waiting impatiently. He'd been
drinking. He was always drinking and always angry. In the beginning my
mom had tried to talk to him, me too, but that only made it worse, so
now we didn't say anything at all.

    Mom passed me in the hallway and offered me a bare smile. It was
meant to be reassuring, I suppose, but it was only sad. I blamed her
then for my dad's depression and for her own inability to fix it. I
blamed her for what was happening to us and every other thing wrong
with the world. A woman was supposed to be stronger than that,
especially a mom.

    "Jilly!"

    "I'm here, Daddy," I said, hesitating in the doorway for just a
second. I looked at him without looking at him, because he was
watching for any reluctance on my part, any hint of fear or pity.

    "About fuckin' time," he breathed, looking over his shoulder at
me. "I've been calling you for half an hour. Where you been?"

    "I'm sorry, Daddy," I walked towards him as he sat facing the bay
windows and the empty street outside.

    "My leg hurts," he told me. "I don't want your bitch of a mother
touching me anymore."

    "I know, Daddy," I whispered. "I'll get the ointment."

    "Where'd you go last night?" he asked, watching as found the
lotion for his leg. "I couldn't sleep. Bad dreams."

    "I'm sorry, Daddy," I knelt in front of his chair and lifted away
the blanket. Not all of it though, just enough to uncover what
remained of his right leg.

    "Take it off," he told me and I hid my frown beneath a veil of
long auburn hair as I pulled the blanket away completely.

    He was wearing a pair of old pants that Mom had tailored. The
right leg hemmed high and loose enough that we could expose the
withered stump of his thigh. Of course his penis was exposed now too,
deliberately released some time before so he could play with it, and
that was what he really wanted me to see. It jutted upright through
the open fly of his trousers, thick and ruddy, already moist with his
clear precum leaking from the tip. He wasn't wearing his rings and I
blamed Mom for that too.

    I swallowed hard and tried to ignore his erection, knowing that my
dad was staring down at me, enjoying this casual abuse. I understood
he did it only because he hated himself, not because he disliked me,
but it felt the same. I rolled up his right pant leg carefully,
wishing not to touch the man's flesh until I had no choice. His once
muscular leg was now a stump and what remained seemed hopelessly
shrunken, the sinews choked and ruined by self-loathing and neglect as
much as by the accident itself.

    "Rub it, girl," he demanded. "Fuckin' hurts so bad. You're the
only one can make it better."

    "I know, Daddy," I nodded slowly, focusing my attention on the
stump in front of me.

    The flesh was white like a corpse, and wrinkled with flaps of skin
that the surgeons had sewn together over the raw meat inside like a
sausage. It disgusted me and I tasted the bile rising in the back of
my throat. There was fear as well, not of my father or even of his
deformity, but the fact that such a thing existed at all. That it
could happen frightened me terribly and I had no greater dread than
that it could happen to me by nothing more than mere chance. Touching
that injury was like touching something worse than death.

    "That's it, better Jilly. Better now," my dad sighed as I worked
my hands over his stump.

    My fingers were slippery with an ointment that was little more
than a placebo. The physicians had assured my mom that the pain was
all in her husband's head. The nerves were dead and anything my father
might have felt, the distress of his condition or the pleasure of my
gentle hands, was all imagined.

    "The other too," he grunted. "You know what I need, Jilly."

    "Daddy..." I cleared my throat softly.

    "I said in your mouth, slut!" he yelled suddenly, making me jerk
back on my heels. "You spend all night sucking off your boyfriends?
You can spend all day sucking off your daddy too!"

    There was nothing I could do as his hands were already on my head,
his fingers digging into my hair and pulling my face towards his cock.
I should have sensed his mood better, that was my only fleeting
thought before my barely parted lips were battered aside by the
swollen head of his penis. My teeth scratched his flesh, but that
didn't matter to him. Daddy filled my mouth with his cock, pushing me
down until the glans hit the back of my mouth and I choked on it
painfully, coughing and retching against that rude sensation.

    "Fuckin' whore," he let me go then, satisfied that I was impaled
on his prick and would do as he desired.

    I blinked back the tears filling my hazel eyes and moved my tongue
cautiously, licking weakly at the underside of his cock and lifting my
head just enough so that I would stop gagging. I had to massage his
stump blindly while I sucked his cock, struggling at times without the
benefit of being able to hold it with anything but my tightly
stretched lips. This was what my dad wanted me for and why he rejected
his wife. She'd have done it dutifully, even willingly as she should,
but the fire of my father's self-destruction required depravity to
feed it.

    "Oughta make you ride, cunt," he breathed. "Fuck that little hole
of yours. Slut. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Whore. How many boys
you fuck when you sneak out at night?"

    I didn't answer him. I couldn't. I was sliding my lips up and down
the shaft, washing his cock with my tongue and somehow finding the
determination to make it good for him. The sooner I could make him
cum, the sooner he'd be finished with me. I sucked his cock the best I
knew how, letting him feel my mouth warm and wet and soft all over. I
swallowed his precum and never let his penis slip from my sucking
grasp. I worked my fingers around his stump all the while, knowing he
couldn't even feel it. I could though and the revulsion was nearly
overwhelming.

    "All of it!" he demanded finally, growing closer to his orgasm.
"Open your fuckin' throat, Jilly."

    It took a few heartbeats to prepare myself and even that was too
long for my dad's growing urgency. He pushed down on my head with both
hands, jamming his cock into my throat as I tried to swallow beneath
him. It hurt and I felt a moment of panic, but then he was in and
holding my face against his trousers. His wiry pubic hair at the base
of his cock tickled my lips and I couldn't breathe or move. I was
frozen with my father's penis wrapped in the confines of my delicate
throat.

    "Gahhh! Fuck! Eat it, whore!" he was cumming and I felt his cock
pulsing rapidly as his ejaculate spilled into my stomach.

    I couldn't taste it or even feel his semen as anything but an
indistinct warmth, but I felt his cock and my throat was clasped so
tightly around it that I couldn't tell his spasms from my own. My body
was trying to expel him, or swallow him completely. My lungs burned
and labored uselessly as my racing heart demanded fresh air. It was
painful and humiliating and I was sobbing even before he let me go.

    I pulled my mouth from his penis with a wash of saliva and the
thin remains of my dad's orgasm. I tasted him then, bitter and salty
and I felt bruised, my lips and throat, my tongue thick and swollen. I
pushed myself away, shaking and standing on rubbery legs. I was
flushed embarrassment, nauseated with his incestuous sperm churning in
my belly, and the man said nothing at all, but only laughed drunkenly
as I stumbled from the room.

    Leaning against the wall beneath family portraits, strangers
framed in happier times, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I
hawked up phlegm and semen into my mouth and frowned, blinking my wet
eyes and forcing myself to swallow it rather than spit the slime onto
the floor and have to clean the memory up later. I caught my breath
slowly and wiped at my eyes, shaking my head and reminding myself that
it didn't matter.

    "I'm sorry you have to do that." My mom was there, wearing a thin,
silk pantsuit, salmon pink and clinging to her body. She was fitting
an earring into her left ear and her face was already made up.

    "I know," I looked down.

    "He's your father, Jilly," she said and that meant so little
coming from her. "He just needs..."

    "Needs me," I snorted. "Yeah."

    "Yeah," she sighed. "I'm, uh...I have to go out for a little bit
and..."

    "And what, Mom?" I lifted my eyes and she didn't turn away from
me. "Visit a sick friend again? Another Rubberware party? What's the
point?"

    "Jilly," she said. "This isn't easy for me either. I have needs
too..."

    "Just..." I waved at her. "Just let me know when you're not coming
back, okay? I don't need the surprise."

    "Jilly..." Mom was frowning and I slipped past her, going upstairs
to my room.

    Dad would fall asleep in his chair and he could get around by
himself anyway. He wasn't so crippled as he liked to pretend he was.
He had one good leg and when nobody was there to play fetch for him,
he used it. When he needed a new bottle. When he needed the bathroom
or something to eat. When he needed to find me in the middle of the
night, balancing over my bed in the dark and jerking off onto my face
while I pretended to sleep, just so I wouldn't have to take him in my
mouth. Oh yeah, Daddy wasn't a cripple at all, except in his soul.

    "...your hands off me!"

    "Bitch! Where do you think you're going?"

    "You're drunk! Stop it!"

    "Get your ass in here!"

    "Owww! Bastard! Ah!"

    The dull sound of my mom being slapped around floated through the
floor and it was a familiar tune. I barely heard it anymore. She
should have snuck out, the way I often did, and Dad wouldn't have
known she was gone until it was too late. I put my earphones on and
turned on my Opid, just glad that it wasn't me again. I'd made him
happy, now Mom was making him mad and the world kept turning.

    I'd have to lock my door later, even though that would just make
it worse probably, because when my dad woke up he'd be horny. If
that's really the word for what he felt. Mom would be gone all night
and that would piss him off too, so he'd be looking for someone to
blame. Locking the door wouldn't keep him out, but at least the
pounding would wake me up, instead of some of the other ways he liked
to do it. I'd be a little more ready for him then, except I never was.

    That was when I found the door in my closet. There was nothing
else special about it, so I don't know why the door was there that
night and not some other one. I guess if it was gonna happen anyway,
one particular time instead of another didn't really have anything to
do with it. That's about all the explanation I can think of.

    I was looking for an old purse, remembering some pink fingernail
polish I thought I had, but when I opened my closet door I saw my
bedroom. Not exactly mine though, it was different, but it was the
same size and everything. The carpet was the same dull beige, but the
walls were a pleasant light blue, instead of a dingy off-white like
mine were. I didn't know what to think and I just walked in. The air
was warmer, I noticed that, and it smelled better too. Not like
anything really, it just smelled fresh and clean. A few feet into the
room I looked over my shoulder, and through the open closet door I
could see my bedroom on the other side.

    It looked ugly compared to this new one.

    Yeah. This room was better. The bed was the same size, but made up
with clean sheets and the pillows had pillow cases on them. There were
curtains on the windows, simple white ones, but they were nice. There
were some posters on the wall of bands I never heard of. The Rolling
Stones? What kinda name was that? I figured it was some stupid boy
band and the tongue thing was seriously pornographic! It made me blush
just standing there and I looked away from it quickly. There was
another poster, it said New York Yankees on it and I didn't even know
what that meant except some guy was holding a club or something. I
guess that was the name of the album because Derek Jeter seemed to be
the singer's name. He was cute anyway.

    There was other stuff, boy stuff it looked like to me, but I
didn't know what all of it was. There was a model of a cloudcar half
assembled on a desk, but I never saw one with wings before and it
looked kinda cool. The box said it was a Spitfire and '...one of the
greatest airplanes of World War 2...' and I guessed that was a movie or
a book or something. Probably a comic book, I figured, because that
cloudcar didn't look like it would get ten feet off the ground without
crashing. I didn't like comic books really, but my boyfriend did and
he was always trying to get me to look at weird stuff like that.

    There was an aquarium in the room and I smiled when I saw that.
I'd had a little fishbowl once, like every kid does probably, but of
course my little goldfish hadn't lasted long. This was a real fish
tank though, with blue-green gravel and a little box that made bubbles
when the lid opened. The fish were cool and I'd never seen anything
like them, sort of flat with disk-shaped bodies and long flowing fins.
They were pretty too, all black and white and yellow, and I tapped the
glass for a moment just enjoying the way they seemed to hover in the
water.

    I walked around slowly without touching anything else, just
looking, and I saw there were a lot of pictures stuck in the frame of
the dresser mirror. They were mostly girls, a few boys, but a lot of
girls and they looked like school pictures mostly. I pulled one out, a
picture of a girl who looked a lot like my boyfriend Mahk. I mean,
they were different obviously, cause Mahk is a total guy, but they
were both blonde with the same color hair, and the same blue eyes too.
I'd know Mahk's eyes anywhere and this girl had them. It was strange
and I turned the photo over.

    "For Jimmie! I'll always love you! Forever yours, Mandy," I read
out loud. Those were sort of weird names, I thought, but not
completely weird I suppose. I'd just never heard them before.

    It was weird.

    "Who are you?" a voice asked and I jumped, dropping the picture
and looking over my shoulder in surprise.

    There was some guy standing in the open bedroom doorway and I ran.
I didn't think about it. I just ran back to my own bedroom and slammed
the closet door shut behind me, jumping on my bed and hugging my knees
to my chest. I stared at the door, waiting for it to open and that guy
to chase me. He didn't though and it took about ten minutes before my
heart slowed down and I could breathe again.

    I kinda wanted to open that closet door and take a little peek,
but I was too scared.



To be continued...

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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