Welcome and enjoy your stay!
Glassy eyed
and
blinking as if it took effort to do so, Chloe sat on the floor and
studiously
colored the picture in her book. She was only peripherally aware of the
others
in the room, of the man and woman she now habitually called mummy and
daddy. He
was sat in his big armchair puffing away on a cigar as he stroked and
prodded
his iPad, and she lay on the sofa with a steaming mug of hot chocolate,
watching television.
And off to
one side,
silent and vigilant in a way that had once thoroughly unnerved and
intimidated
Chloe was Catherine. Catherine,
as far
as Chloe could tell, was the biological daughter of Miles and Grace.
She was
tall and poised and graceful even when, as now, she was motionless.
Catherine
was in her mid-twenties and older than Chloe by maybe 5 years or so
which had
helped the younger girl adjust to thinking of her as a big sister. And
so Miles
and Grace, her daddy and mommy, had their ideal family and Chloe had
what she’d
once dreamed would be her ideal life.
The reality
of being a
slave, and a slave in every way the word implied, had proven to come
with far
more thorns and much, much fewer roses than she’d always dreamed of,
but what
did that matter? The life Chloe had left behind had been futile and
pointless
and trivial and she’d futile and pointless and trivial living it.
Leaving it
behind had simply been a case of ‘how much worse can it get?’, and
though
initially it had seemed to get a great deal worse, Chloe had felt
herself
change and adapt to her new world and the new people in it. She guessed
it had
been her submissive side beginning to grow and, honestly, she felt more
love
and desire from Miles and Grace in their short time together than she’d
ever
felt in her whole life.
So when
Grace looked
up at the clock and exclaimed surprise that it had gotten so late –
‘Where has
the evening gone? It’s 8 o’clock already!’ – Chloe quietly closed her
coloring
book and got to her feet. The house was built on routine and bedtime
was one of
them.
Grace nodded
approvingly as Chloe rose from the floor. ‘Good girl, Chloe. You’ve got
into
your new sleeping routine very well,’ she said with shiny eyes. ‘Now,
Catherine
will put you to bed and I’m sure that if you ask nicely, daddy will
come up and
read you a story, won’t you darling?’
Miles looked
at his
wife over the top of his iPad and gave a mock sigh. ‘Well, if she asks
very
nicely…’
On cue,
Chloe tottered
over to her daddy and stood between his splayed legs. The man looked
her up and
down and a small part of Chloe wanted very badly to ask what he saw.
His
desires, she supposed, or at least a version of them. This outfit, her
entire
wardrobe really, with the exception of a few things she wore when they
went
out, was intended to make her look young and innocent and it was a role
she was
beginning to think of her life.
Standing
there before
him, hands clasped behind her back, biting her lower lip in a
coquettish way,
Chloe felt his eyes take her in. From the pastel pink heels that she
still felt
awkward in, up and over her pink fishnet hold-ups with the bows at the
top, the
scrap of silky fabric that was her panties and over the soft silk of
the pink
baby-doll with the see-through cups she wore. She was, of course,
suitably
made-up, something Catherine helped her with every morning and often
did for her,
and wore a matching frilly choker around her neck. Miles seemed to
devour her
like a starving man presented with a steak cooked to perfection.
‘Daddy?
Please? Can I
have a story?’ Chloe asked softly, her eyes flicking to meet his and
then away
again, seeing the bulge in his trousers along the way.
His smile
was kindly
and gentle but his eyes were those of a wolf with a lamb and Chloe felt
a
shiver of something complicated roll through her. Excitement and fear
she
recognized as familiar friends, but underneath was something else,
something
uglier that made Chloe suddenly feel like crying.
‘I’ll be up to tuck you in once Catherine’s got you ready,’ Miles assured her and, made a show of returning to his iPad. Dismissed, Chloe followed her big sister out of the lounge and to her room at the back of the big house she now called home.
Chloe’s
bedroom was
that of a little girl’s, white walls with the faintest hint of pink and
soft
pastels everywhere else. The only thing that didn’t seem to fit was her
bed which
was far from the single bed that might be expected and was in fact a
queen with
a plain wooden headboard and baseboard. It was a solid thing, high and
firm and
the drawers underneath contained all manner of toys and tools, a theme
that
recurred the more drawers and doors you opened. Her wardrobe had one
side full
of costumes and uniforms and lingerie, and the other the 3 ‘normal’
outfits she
wore when they left the house. And even then Chloe often wore much less
normal
clothing underneath.
Her room had
its own
good sized bathroom which made preparing for bed convenient if far from
easy.
As invasive and humiliating as the bedtime routine was, Chloe was
beginning to
adapt and, at least in part, enjoy.
It began
with Catherine
running Chloe a hot shower while Chloe undressed and put her clothes in
the
laundry. Then she would sit on the edge of the bed and watch Catherine
undress
in front of her. After the recent visit to Dr Banks, Chloe was
beginning to
understand why this was part of the ritual. She guessed that young
girls were
meant to be jealous of their older sister, to envy their development
and long
for the days when they would develop into a young woman. They would
look at
firm breasts and shapely backsides and long legs and wonder when it
would be their
time to look so beautiful. And Chloe was very, very jealous indeed.
Seeing Catherine
naked made her feel ashamed to be seen that way herself. She felt
clumsy and
awkward, a graceless, undesirable creature next to Catherine.
Because her
older
sister was, without doubt, beautiful, from the way she walked and
dressed with
poise and confidence no matter what she was wearing, to her stunning
body.
Large, firm breasts that sat high and proud on the girl’s chest, long
and
shapely legs leading up to the perfect swell of her ass, large, plush
lips, a
narrow waist and so much more. That Catherine had got this way due to
Dr Banks
was something Chloe understood very well, but if he could make her look
half
this good then the panic attack she’d felt during her ‘assessment’
might be
something to regret if it resulted in her not going back there.
Seeing her
big sister
like this was the one part of the routine Chloe genuinely became
aroused by,
but the moment didn’t last. With both of them now nude, Catherine took
Chloe by
the hand and went into the shower. If what followed was made into a
porno,
Chloe guessed it would be full of steamy mouths and perspiration
covered bodies
writhing and twisting as the water cascaded over perfect bodies.
The reality
was much
different.
It began
with an
enema, something she received as part of her morning ritual as well and
so was
familiar with. Chloe had always thought that an enema probably meant
anal sex
would follow, something she’d never experienced, but so far she’d been
spared
that. Miles, her daddy, was a well sized man and the thought of him in
her ass
usually left Chloe feeling the conflicting emotions of desire and fear.
She
knew it would happen one day, probably sooner rather than later, and
whilst she
didn’t think she’d enjoy it, she kind of wanted to get it over with and
the
thought of not enjoying it and having it happen anyway was one she did
enjoy,
confusing as it was to her. But all she got was an enema twice a day
and it was
as much a part of her life as peeing or getting dressed.
Nonetheless,
Chloe
still found it utterly degrading, even though she did nothing more
strenuous
than bending over the bed and accepting the soft, plastic plug on the
end of a
tube into her anus. The tube had a twist valve and, at the other end, a
plastic
attachment that clicked into a squeeze bag full of warm, scented water.
Catherine
would work the bag from top to bottom, forcing the water down the tube,
through
the open valve and into Chloe. The process took mere minutes and left
her
feeling uncomfortably full and bloated. Then Catherine would close the
valve,
remove the bag, leaving the plug and tube inside Chloe where it acted
as a
stopper.
And then,
with the
tube sticking out her, Chloe was washed. Catherine started by setting
about her
hair with such ferocity that Chloe’s eyes watered and then scrubbed her
until
her skin felt raw and glowed pink. And Catherine was very, very
thorough,
covering every square inch of Chloe’s flesh with the rough, soapy
bristles.
That done, Chloe was rinsed off and made to stand on a bathmat while
Catherine
smoothed a cool, thick body cream onto her skin from top to, literally,
bottom.
Once it had been absorbed, she was again rinsed and then positioned
over the
toilet so that Catherine could open the valve on the tub and allow
Chloe to
empty herself. Even when there was no more to squeeze out, Catherine
simply
stood her up to remove the tube and plug altogether and then sat Chloe
back on
the toilet properly to let go of any remaining drops.
And when
Catherine was
satisfied she stood Chloe back on the map and, very thoroughly, rinsed
her off
one last time.
Once she’d
been dried,
Catherine brushed out Chloe’s hair and fixed it into a cute but simple
style,
usually with a ribbon or bow and gave her a light touch of make-up.
Then she
would slip into a pair of panties that tied up at the sides, making
their
removal easy and quick, and then into a short, revealing nightie. This
would
usually be pink much like her baby-doll, but much simpler in style and
usually
satin or silk.
Catherine
stepped back
and ran a critical eye up and down Chloe and nodded her approval.
‘Let’s get
you into bed,’ she said with a thin smile and pulled the quilt aside
for Chloe
to slip into bed. The younger girl immediately, almost instinctively,
turned on
her side and pulled her knees up.
Catherine
smiled and
Chloe thought it looked cold, even cruel. She looked up at her new
sister and
the same, unfamiliar feeling she’d felt stood before her new daddy
bubbled up
into her consciousness again.
‘Sleep well,’ Catherine said, picking up the neat pile of her carefully folded clothes, turning off the light and leaving the bedroom, softly clicking the door shut behind her. Chloe lay in the soft, low glow of the night light on her pastel colored dressing table and pulled her knees up tighter.
It was maybe
an hour
later when Chloe, who wasn’t even feeling remotely sleepy, heard her
bedroom
door open and light from the passageway spilled into the room for the
few
seconds before it was closed again. She kept her eyes closed as her
daddy moved
round to the empty side of the bed and she heard him slip from what she
guessed
was his dressing gown. Then the bed moved and shifted as he got in
behind Chloe
and she almost shuddered when she felt his chest against her back and
the hard
heat of erection against her rear.
‘Relax,
angel,’ he
whispered into Chloe’s ear and she smelt the cigar on his breath. Her
daddy
slipped his arms around her and eased her arms aside to fondle Chloe’s
small
(but probably not for much longer) breasts as he moved his hips to rub
his
hard-on between her ass-cheeks. He slid smoothly across her flesh and
Chloe
realized his shaft was lubricated. She squeezed her eyes even more
firmly
closed.
He squeezed
her
breasts and twisted her nipples for a few seconds, Chloe simply
allowing it to
happen, laying their unresponsive and feeling absurdly like crying.
Then one of
her daddy’s hands moved from her breasts to her arm, stroking downwards
even as
he kissed her neck and nibbled her air. She felt him shift and then
gave a
small, involuntary gasp as her daddy pushed the blunt, hard tip of
himself
against her anus. Then Chloe felt fingertips push around his erection,
and then
felt them push inside her with an urgent indifference, wiping the
lubricant
from his cock to her anus. Once more he pressed his tip against the
resisting
muscle and Chloe felt the pain of his pressure begin to tell.
When she
gave and he
jabbed inside her properly, it was with an eye-watering splitting
sensation, as
if she was tearing more than simply stretching. Chloe gave a gasp mixed
with a
sob, a sound of dismayed surprise and then he was pushing harder still,
forcing
himself into her body and this time Chloe began to cry, hot tears full
of shame
and remorse and doubt slid down her cheeks as harsh, ragged breaths
began to
burn in her lungs.
‘Sshhh,
angel, Sshhh,’
Miles whispered, running the same oily fingers through her hair as had
only
just been inside her ass. She gave a shudder, felt nausea and dizziness
crowd
her sense at the slick touch and the feeling that had been tormenting
her,
lurking just out of reach of her identifying it, suddenly came into
clear
focus.
Revulsion.
As her new
daddy drove
himself in and out of her with hard, hungry thrusts, Chloe felt her
skin crawl
and her mind trying frantically to distance itself from the reality of
her
situation. A small part of her realized that this was what people meant
when
they said ‘find a happy place’, but she also knew she wouldn’t be able
to. This
world, this new reality, had filled every part of her life. How she
slept, ate,
bathed, dressed, behaved, spoke and much more besides was now done on
the whims
of her mommy and daddy and that reality had swallowed everything. The
life
she’d once lived had been one she’d so thoroughly rejected and felt
apart from
that there was nowhere in her memories for her mind to retreat to. All
she had
was what she was trying to hide from in the first place.
And she
broke.
Sobs gave
way to
wails, tears flowed and she began to tremble and shudder, and still her
daddy
fucked her, still he sodomised her and still he offered those same
meaningless
soft whispers of what might have been comfort.
‘Sshhh,
baby, it’s ok.
Daddy loves you, so much. Good girl for daddy, good girl. Sshhh, angel.
Daddy
loves you, daddy loves you,’ he went on and on and his breathing became
harsher
and louder. At one point he sucked her earlobe, bit the soft flesh, and
Chloe
had felt a scream, a genuine shriek of pure and consuming horror,
briefly rise
up from some darkness inside her but she bit it down, quashed it. Part
of her
understood that allowing that scream might be the first step to losing
her
mind.
And then he
was gone
from her and kicking the quilt off the bed entirely. She thought for a
second
or two that he was done but then he was pulling her bodily towards the
centre
of the bed and rolling her face down.
‘On your
knees now,
angel. Be a good girl for daddy,’ he said and his voice was cold and
hard,
angry even. Chloe didn’t move, just lay there in frozen fear,
overwhelmed and
unable to make her body obey. She wanted to get on her knees, wanted to
please
the man who owned that frightening voice, but she couldn’t.
‘You… cunt!’
he
shouted. ‘You fffucking… c-cunt. Cunt!’ and Chloe winced at how furious
he
sounded. She was, simply, terrified.
The bedroom
door
banged open and the light went on.
‘What’s
going on in
here?’ Grace demanded.
‘This…
cunt!’ Miles
hissed. ‘She’s not doing what he daddy wants. Fuck-fucking cunt!’
‘Catherine!
Get in
here!’ Grace cried out and Chloe found herself wrapping her arms around
her
head, crying in great wrenching sobs, trying to block it all out.
A few
seconds passed
and the Chloe heard Catherine. ‘Yes, mother?’
Your
sister’s being a
bad girl for your daddy. Find a belt for me, there’s a good girl.’
Miles’ mouth
was
suddenly an inch from her ear. ‘Hear that, cunt? A belt for me to make
you see!
Make you understand! Stupid cunt, stupid fucking c-cunt! You have to be
a good
girl for me, and for your mommy. Good girl’s get love, see, they get
nice
clothes and toys and the all the other things little whores like.’ His
words
were a rush, breathless and full of rage. ‘Bad girls get punished.’
‘It’s okay,
love,’
Grace whispered to her husband. ‘We’ll make her see what kind of little
girl
her daddy deserves.’
‘Is this
what you
want, mother?’ Catherine asked.
‘Perfect!
You’re such
a good girl, Catherine. Such a very good girl, not like your little
sister.’
When Miles
wrapped the
fingers of one hand in her hair and tried, again, to pull Chloe to her
knees,
she tried, briefly, to fight. She didn’t know what she expected; to be
yelled
at some more, maybe held down or maybe even tied down. What she got was
an open
palm slammed against the side of her head and the world briefly went
black and
white while her ear rang with a single, high pitched note.
‘Try that
shit again,’
Miles said, ‘and the next time it’ll be a fucking fist,’ and this time
his
voice was empty of emotion, cold and flat and truthful.
‘Don’t worry
about
her, love. She can be punished as she is,’ Grace said.
‘Hold her
down,’ Miles
said, conceding the point.
Chloe turned
her head
to see Catherine shuffle onto the bed where she gripped Chloe’s hands
in her
own and laid across the girl’s outstretched arms. Chloe looked into the
older
girl’s eyes and saw blank indifference. She felt her ankles similarly
held and
guessed it was by Grace.
And then she
was
punished.
Chloe
already had many
reasons to want to be a good girl for her new family. Miles’ quick
temper, for
instance, or the depths of the fury she’d heard in his voice. That he
had but
to call out and Grace would come running was another, and that she was
as quick
to anger as her husband was yet one more reason. But being punished by
her
daddy introduced her to another thing she wanted to avoid; his aim.
As a child,
she’d been
disciplined with a spanking or a wooden spoon. Not too long ago she’d
been
mildly caned. Those limited experiences made her think punishment was
precise
and considered and, most importantly, finite. At some point, she’d
believed, it
would stop. A number of strokes were decided on, they were delivered
and the
punishment was finished. But what she got from Miles wasn’t that.
She lost
count at
maybe 8 or 9, mainly because the pain smashed her senses into pieces
but also
because the lashes of the heavy leather belt were too fast and all over
the
place to count. By the time she’d stopped doing anything more than
flinching
numbly at each impact, she had masses of livid, raised welts from her
back to
her calves and everywhere in between. When Grace said simply ‘that’s
enough for
now, love’ and she’d dimly been aware of a breathless, panting Miles
dropping
the belt to the floor, she was beyond doing anything more involved than
breathing and occasionally blinking. She felt destroyed, literally,
damaged and
probably beyond use.
Miles
dragged her
halfway off the side of the bed, knees on the floor, body on the
mattress. He
pulled her legs wide apart and then knelt behind her. For a second she
felt the
tip of his cock at her asshole and then, with a single, brutal thrust,
he was
embedded inside her. Chloe cried out, gasped in pain, but Miles was
indifferent
to her suffering and was soon shoving in and out and almost as quickly,
Chloe
found herself oblivious to his violation of her body. The pain spiked
and then
settled to a dull, consuming agony that swamped her senses, but that
pain was
nothing now, not compared to the belt. Chloe knelt there and, a few
sobs and
chokes aside, accepted her daddy’s will as best she could.
Even when
Miles pulled
her back towards him by the hair so that Grace could slide on the bed
in front
of Chloe, rucking her nightie around her hips and exposing her smooth
pussy,
Chloe didn’t really notice beyond doing what was expected. That seemed
the best
thing to do. She lowered her head and began to suck and lick and finger
her
mommy’s pussy in a way she hoped was pleasing, that would make Grace
think of
her as a good girl again.
The older
woman ran
her fingers through Chloe’s hair and sighed with deep contentment.
‘That’s
better. No more tears, no more upsetting your daddy, eh? That’s it,
sweetheart,
show mommy and daddy what a good girl you can be,’ and her voice became
thick
with pleasure.
Off to the side, Catherine watched this with flat, passionless eyes.
Chloe was
put back in
bed with her daddy’s seed in her ass and her mommy’s taste in her
mouth. They’d
both said it was her reward for making them happy and proud of her and
that
she’d shown them that she could become a wonderful little girl. It
might take a
lot of time and effort and discipline, they admitted, but neither of
them had a
doubt that they could make her into something wonderful. And that was
the word
they’d used; something, not someone.
She lay face
down in
bed by the glow of the nightlight, afraid to lay on her back because of
the
raw, throbbing flesh from Miles’ belt, feeling a constant, dull agony
from her
anus that occasionally flared into an eye-watering spasm, and cried
herself to
sleep.
There was no regret, not
that night anyway;
she was too exhausted and traumatized. She just cried softly,
pitifully, until
sleep took her. She dreamt that she was in an empty field under an
empty sky
and that she wanted to go home. In the dream, she realized she didn’t
know
where home was anymore.