I slip into her room and, by the soft glow of the nightlight, make out her huddled form under the bedclothes. She doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound, frozen like the rabbit in headlamps, terrified of what’s to come but powerless to get out of the way.

Facing the foot of the bed, mounted above the large, mirror, is the big, flat tv bolted to the wall. It has a built in dvd player and it swallows my freshly burned disc with what sounds like a hum of contentment. Even machinery can sound happy when it’s doing what it was meant to do. The remote is on her bedside table and I pick it up as I sit on the edge of the bed and rest my hand on her curled form. She’s warm and I feel a slight tremor in her flesh. I wonder if she’s crying again. I hope so.

‘Hey angel. Emma. Wake up for daddy,’ I whisper and gently shake her. ‘There’s something on TV I want you to see, ok? Come on… Wake up sleepyhead.’ I shake her a little more vigourously and she turns over, wide eyed and wide awake, sitting up against the headboard. Her eyes are puffy and red from the tears, black smudges under them from lack of sleep. Emma looks at me with as much resignation as fear and even that’s becoming too much effort for her now.

I pat the centre of the bed to show where I want her. She knows that place, knows I can put her there if I want to and where once there was a defiant shake of the head, now she takes a shuddering breath, gives a slight whimper and pads on all fours to where she belongs.

‘Good girl for daddy,’ I say and kneel behind her. She gives another whimper as I lift the hem of her silky nighties up to show her tight, pert little rump. The whimper turns to a kind of choked sob as Emma feels my hand between her legs, pushing them open, cupping the smooth swell of her sex. I stroke a finger between her little lips and feel heat but no real moisture. Well, one day perhaps, but for now there are ways and means and I lean over, open the cabinet drawer and take out the partly squeezed tube of KY.

I coat my already aching erection in the cold slickness and then generously apply it to Emma’s ass and cunt. She’s crying by the time I screw the cap back on and put it on the cabinet.

‘Now,’ I say, picking up the remote, ‘I’ve got something to show you. Something very, very special. I haven’t even watched it all myself because I wanted to share it with you.’

I press the button and the tv flicks on with a staticy click. A few seconds later static shows and I press another button to find the AV channel. The dvd menu comes up and there’s one file on the disc. I press play and news.avi begins to play. On the screen, a woman in a nice suit sat behind a big desk starts to talk.

 

At a news conference today, Southwest regional police made a further appeal for any witnesses who may have information in the disappearance of 7 year old Emma Austen. Emma has been missing for three daysafter becoming seperated from her parents at a local antique fair. Initial thoughts that she had wandered off quickly faded and police are now certain that she has been abducted. An extensive search was conducted, with local volunteers and police with sniffer dogs combing local woods and parks for any sign…

 

Behind her there’s a picture of Emma in her school uniform, which is nowhere near as sexy as the one I got her. She looks happy, carefree, a smile on her face. I’m sure that I’ll get to see that smile myself, once she adjusts. It’s a lot for her to take in and I like to think that things like this will make her understand there’s no going back for her.

I push the tip of my cock at the tight, puckered entrance to her ass and Emma gives a mewl of discomfort, though she’s well used to this by now. Fingers digging into her hips, I hold her in place, offering a deep, heartfelt sigh of pleasure as I push deep into her. She grips me like a fist and it’s hard to believe that once upon a time she was too tight to penetrate. It just hurt too much. But nowadays she’s still tight but, with plenty of lubricant, her little anus soon gives and before long I’m easing in and out of her.

I watch in the mirror and I see the look of discomfort on her face, that familiar ‘I don’t understand why this is happening’ look. I can see it changing a little more every time, becoming more resigned and accepting of her new place and purpose. I find that thrilling. It’s only right she should see sense.

‘That good, babygirl?’ I whisper as I move in and out of her little body. ‘Do you like when daddy fucks you?’

Again I see her in the mirror. She closes her eyes, bites her lip and nods silently. A couple of thick tears run in paralell down her cheeks. She’s achingly beautiful to me and as much as like to see her suffer, it’s nice she’s starting to appreciate me helping her become a good girl.

And speaking of making Emma suffer, I slide out of her and she gives a sigh of relief which is quickly caught when she feels me at the entrance to her little pussy. She’s starting to sob already and I notice her head drop in exhaustion. I reach forward, take a handful of her long, blonde hair and pull her head back at the screen. With my other hand I guide myself a little way inside her, feeling my way, pushing her soft, pliable flesh aside to make way for what’s to come.

On the tv, the photo of Emma drops away, replaced by a recording of a room full of reporters. At the end of the room, on a raised stage, is a table. Some people are seen taking their seats.

 

Emma’s parents, Samantha and Peter, made this heartbreaking appeal for the return of their daughter.

 

On the screen, a man and a woman huddled together like refugees speak into the crop of microphones arranged in front of them. Cameras flash and click as the assembled jackals sniff blood.

 

‘Please, whoever has our little little girl, please, let her go,’ the man says, his voice holds true and even, sounding detached and disbelieving. ‘She’s just a little girl who should be home with her family, who love her and miss her very much.’

‘But I love her now,’ I say, and I push hard into Emma’s cunt and she gives a scream of pain. I’ve not been inside her this deep before. It’s mainly been fingers and slim toys and the tip of me. But now, well lubricated as we both are, and to mark this special occasion, I grit my teeth against the pain of her body clenching around me and push.

Emma’s scream tapers off into a wracking sob and I feel a thrill of pleasure seeing her hands gripping the bedclothes, white knuckled. In the mirror her head’s dropped again and I realise that I’ve let go of her hair in order to better hold her in place for me to make love to her.

I’m deep enough in her now that I can afford to take her by the hair again. I pull her head sharply back and drive forward again.

‘Good girl,’ I whisper, breathless. ‘Good cunt for daddy. Good little cunt.’ Her wailing means she probably doesn’t hear most of me telling her how I feel so I make sure she understands, pulling her head hard back and over so she can see me.

‘I love fucking you, Emma. I love it and you have to learn to love it too. You have to love me.’ She looks terrified and I sympathise. I’m asking a lot of her but I have faith and I think that, together, when can get her where she needs to be.

I look at the screen, smile at what I see, and turn her head back to look.

Her mum’s a pretty girl and I can see a lot of Emma in her; same cute nose, same pouting lips. But the biggest similarity is the eyes and it takes me a second to realise why, to understand that they both have the same red rimmed, puffy, sleepless eyes. Haunted almost. Afraid. That makes me smile.

 

‘Please, whoever you are… don’t… please… don’t hurt her. Please. Just bring her back. Let her go. Please. I just want my little girl back. I just want-‘ and the rest is lost in great heaving sobs and I think they share some similarities in that, too.

‘Mummy…’ Emma says and I see in the mirror as she looks with big, glassy, wet eyes at the woman. I pause the playback and she’s frozen there. ‘Mummy… please… Mummy…’ Emma says, and her words are distorted by sobs and gasps.

And it’s ecstasy. I drive in and out of her tight, sweet little cunt, short, sharp jabs, over and over. She gives bit by bit and I sink incrementally deeper.

‘You’re never going to see her again, Emma,’ I say and the little girl gives a great screaming cry of anguish, hope ripped from her as I let of her head to grip her perfect little ass and hammer into her.

I don’t feel pain, even though later I’ll find out I bled because of it. I like that I did, that I left my blood inside her cunt. Cum, piss, spit; she’s experienced all of them, why not a little blood?

By the time I cum, Emma’s collapsed forward, her ass supported only by hands, and the only sign of life as I pound away is the racking breathes she takes with each thrust. I flood into her, pulling out to send the last few spurts over her slick, used asshole. With a euphoric gasp, I fall forward alongside her, turn on my side and pull her into me.

‘You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl…’ and she says nothing. That’s ok. We’re both tired and it’s been a traumatic night for her. I fumble for the remote, kill the tv, eject the disc.

‘Now, bed for you young lady. Big day tomorrow. SomeoneI want you to meet. One of daddy’s new friends. And they’re all very keen to meet you.’

I tuck her back under the covers and her glazed eyes barely do anything other than blink. So tired, poor girl.

 

After locking the door, I go to the study and put the disc of the news conference back with the others in the set. An awful lot’s happened since I took Emma, but then it’s been almost two years. She still has a lot to catch up on and I think she’s ready for it. I think it’ll be good for her to see that her old life is gone.

And it is, it really is. Long gone.

You see, it couldn’t have worked out better. Daddy got the blame. Police found a bunch of kiddy porn on his home computer, though none of it of Emma. But there was some of her brother, Sean, who was only 5. No details but, you know, a boy of 5… whatever it was, it was wrong. Just wrong. He hung himself in prison and it’s hard to imagine he did it alone, you know? Poor guy but hey, 5 year old boy… Enough said.

That was about 6 months ago. Shortly after, mommy took an overdose. Left a note saying she blamed herself for not seeing it, not knowing her husband and the father of her children was a man capable of such things. She’s not dead but that’s only because of life support. She’s vegetative and that’s not going to change.

Sean’s no doubt adjusting to his new parents and I hope he’s happy. After having such a rotten dad, he deserves to be. I’m only glad I got Emma away in time. I know it’s hard for her but in time she’ll understand and I’ll help her in every way I can. That’s why I’m letting Adam meet her. He knows about helping little girls settle into knew homes and how to help them blossom and grow. He’s a doctor, well a plastic surgeon, and he’s spoken about medication regimes, hormones and even a little surgery.

 

Sounds promising and I think it might help. Really, whatever it takes to make this easier for us both can only be a good thing. Anything for my beautiful Emma.