Chapter 22
Violet
Clean me with his tongue?
My cheeks blaze. I need a shower before I do anything sexual. I might be restrained in a crib cage, covered in shit, spit, and vomit right now, but I still have my standards.
My blood boils. Panic pushes me under.
What the fuck am I going to do?
“You can’t!” I shake my head. “Please. I need a bathroom—”
Dr. Ambrose’s lips suction to my nipple, his hot, rough tongue swirling over my areola, tickling me. I gnaw on my inner cheek and close my eyes.
“Please,” I whisper.
His tongue lathers and relaxes me.
He’s my father, but he didn’t raise me. This is just—
His lips move lower, leaving a trail of saliva along my skin until he reaches my clit. His warm muscle circles my bundle of nerves, and a flash of pleasure dances through me.
I thrust my hips. I need more of his tongue.
“Please,” I cry. “I haven’t cleaned myself yet—”
“I can tell. You’re simply acrid.” He smacks his lips. “The piss dried on your cunt hole…”
He lowers his mouth again, suctioning to my folds and stretching the flaps with his teeth.
I can’t help it: I moan.
“Disgusting creature,” he says as he shoves two fingers in my pussy. My body molds around him. He grins. “Lying in your own filth, and you’re still getting wet?”
“Please,” I cry.
He rubs himself with his free hand and raises a brow. Then, while keeping his gaze cast between my legs, he unlocks my ankle restraints.
“Don’t worry, love,” he says. “I’ll lick your ass clean too.”
Before I can say another word, he scoops up my hips and tongues my asshole, the wet, fat muscle skimming over the clumps of shit. I twitch and gag; Dr. Ambrose digs his nails deeper into my flesh; the pain keeps me still.
His eyes lock on mine. A brown chunk sits between his teeth. His tongue flicks over the lump; it disappears. His throat bobs.
He actually swallowed my shit. How is it my literal shit won’t stop him from taking me?
“Now, beg me to fuck you,” he growls.
I scrunch my eyes shut. I hate this, and yet my pussy pulses, needing to be filled again. Needing him.
And he needs me.
“Please,” I try. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to accept this completely. “Please, I can’t—”
“You had so much fight. Had, that is.” He chuckles. “All it took was a few restraints and forced uncleanliness, and now you’re willing to play nice. Look! You even have your legs free, and you won’t use them to hurt me. You could never hurt your father now. Isn’t that right, sweet one?”
He bends down until we’re inches apart. My vision burns with the scent of his molten breath: sulphur, mold, and rotting fruit.
But I still want his cock in me.
“Please,” I whisper. I’m drowning.
He scowls down at me. “You can beg better than that.”
My pussy constricts. The words tumble out.
“Please fuck me, Daddy,” I shout. “Fuck your slutty little girl.”
“Ah,” he croons. “I like when you call me by my familial title, but you’re not a little girl, are you? Let’s fix that.” He winks. “Change it to ‘freak,’ then say it again for me.”
I press my lips together, gathering strength. I hate that word so much that it makes me see red.
But I’m powerless right now.
The poison. I forgot about the poison pills. He took my clothes; did he keep the pills? Is there still a chance to kill him?
Strength swells inside my chest. I just need to get through this.
“Please. Fuck me, Daddy,” I whisper. “Fuck your slutty daughter.”
His fingers brush my folds. “That’s not what I ordered you to say, is it?”
I grimace. Fine. “Fuck your slutty freak.”
“Not yet.”
My shoulders deflate, disappointment blubbering in my throat. He made me say those awful words, and he’s not going to give me what I want?
“You’re sopping cunt needs to learn delayed gratification,” he says. “And besides, your holes are covered in feces right now. You don’t want Daddy getting your shit on his cock, do you?”
“You just—” I can’t even say it out loud. “You just licked my—”
Three fingers stab into my pussy. I gasp. As he fingers me, he reaches his thumb to my clit. My limbs quiver, and my vision blurs. I’m sore, but it feels good, and I don’t know what to do. How much more of this can I take?
“What a useless woman. Good for nothing unless you’re being used,” he says.
I weep. His fingers jab my insides. I writhe, but he forces my clit to endure his rapid touch.
“Today’s lesson is a unique one,” he says. “Today, you will learn how to endure my mark.”
I thrust my hips forward. He spits on my pussy, his saliva dripping into my hole.
“Disgusting freak,” he snarls.
My nipples pebble. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip. He’s the most vile man I’ve met, and yet I want him to use me. It’s the only thing that will erase my thoughts.
“Please, Daddy,” I cry. “Clean me now, then fuck me. I need your cock—”
He stands, removing his hands from my pussy and clit. I’m throbbing and empty. My heart bursts. I might die right now.
He unzips his trousers and holds his length.
I spread my knees as far as they’ll go, the cage bars digging into my kneecaps. He spits on his cock, lubing it up. But my pussy is drenched. He doesn’t need to lubricate his cock.
Which means he’s putting his cock somewhere else.
“No!” Panic floods me. I kick my feet. “Please don’t—”
He smacks my legs down, then mounts the cage.
“I can use whatever fucking hole I want,” he rasps. “And right now, I want your nasty shit-covered asshole.”
His cock pushes against my bottom hole, and in one strong thrust, he impales me. I’m shredded apart. Coals ravage me, and I become an inferno.
Dr. Ambrose covers me, his pock-marked, burned face next to mine. His body rubs my clit. The biggest burn on his cheek wrinkles as his mouth twists in pleasure.
Pleasure from my ass.
From me.
I gave him pleasure.
“There she is,” he murmurs. “A good trash doll taking my cock up her ass.” He presses his lips against my ear.
“Your mother would be so disappointed in you. At least she resisted my advances on her asshole, but you”—he thrusts, his cock coaxing me, practically turning me inside out—“you, my stupid freak, you are so much more of a slut than her. You like being used. You like knowing you could be covered in every fluid imaginable, and I still want to use your worthless fuck holes.”
Logic rails inside of me. “Worthless?” I pant. “If you’re using me, then I’m not worthless!”
He stops his hips, and his tongue flickers over his bottom lip. A smile brightens his face.
“You’re right,” he says. “Damn it. You are absolutely right. Your entire purpose is being my fuck-hole of a daughter. Is that what you want to hear? Is that what makes you worthy?”
He yanks himself from my ass, and my back hole gapes. My mouth drops open.
I didn’t get to cum.
“D-Dr. Ambrose,” I stutter. “Daddy—”
He lifts the lamp from the floor. The fabric shade glows a dull red, masking most of the light.
“These lightbulbs are of an older variety,” he says, marveling at the fixture. “Our facility has gone through several renovations over the years; I personally prefer these bulbs. They burn hotter than recommended and are often the cause of fires.”
My body clenches, and my mouth runs dry. Numbness fills my pussy.
“What are you going to do with that?” I croak. Do I want to know?
“I want you to experience pain like I do, sweet one,” he says. “I want to mark you in the same way I’m marked.”
I glance at his cock. A thin greenish-brown mucus covers the wound on the tip, and the white scars patch his purple cock.
That’s when it dawns on me.
He’s used the lightbulb to burn his cock.
He’s going to brand me with it.
“No!” I scream. “Daddy, don’t—”
With one hand gripped around the lamp, he rams his other fingers inside of my pussy and ass, and my mouth drops open in a silent scream. His cock hangs between his legs, the purple veins so full, they might pop.
He removes his fingers from me, then balances the lamp on the corner of the cage.
I can’t think.
None of this feels real.
Is he really going to burn me?
He will. And that means we’ll be closer. We’ll be the same.
No. No. No!
I howl. He untwists the lightbulb, his fingers undisturbed by the heat.
The lamp crashes to the floor.
“Take it, you stupid cunt,” he says.
The lightbulb presses to my clit, and my skin sizzles at the contact. The pain is a blinding light. The air is ripped from my lungs until everything fades. My gut twists, my body collapsing on itself. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything.
I am pure pain.
Fingers penetrate my pussy and ass as burning glass rocks across my aching clit. I’m forced back into my body. I gasp.
Dr. Ambrose growls as he fingers me. “Cum for me, you little bitch.”
And I do. I cum so hard, I choke on air. Tears rush down my face, my clit throbs, and everything inside of me hurts and burns and feels good, and I don’t know who I am or what I want anymore.
Eventually, I ease down to earth.
My staggered breathing returns to a steady rhythm. I tremble, my bottom lip quivering and tears painting my cheeks.
“Why are you crying, sweet one?” Dr. Ambrose murmurs. He drags his damp fingertips across my lips. “Is it because you want Daddy to cum for you too?”
A cry tears through me. Dr. Ambrose laughs and raises the lightbulb in the air.
A thin film of my musky need streaks the glass.
He clutches it in his hand, tightening his fist until the bulb shatters. Tiny glass shards and drops of blood explode across the room.
He picks up a piece of glass from the floor, then brings it to my clit. He pokes me with the jagged edge.
“Please,” I cry. It’s the only word I can think of. I don’t know if I’m begging him to do it or begging him not to do it; I just need him right now.
“You are so much easier to train than I first expected,” he says. “It’s a pity. Your mother was more stubborn. It’s a shame your training time will pass quickly.”
He strokes his cock, his length wet with my ass mucus. His fingers push the glass forward, the sharp edge digging into my clit.
Pain surges through me. My pussy is already on edge.
“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” He laughs. “Such an obedient whore, ready to cum for Daddy at a moment’s notice.”
I’m too empty-headed. Why is it so easy for him to make me cum? What does it mean?
I sob. “Please. Please. I need—”
He palms his cock with one hand and cups my pussy with the other, the shard between us.
As I hump his palm, there’s enough friction—the glass and his rough hand—that I’m there, jumping off into nothingness.
He throws the glass, mounts the cage again, spits into his palm, and angles his cock into my back hole.
I wail. He should reject me. He should push me away.
He shouldn’t want anything to do with a disgusting freak like me.
But he wants me.
He cums, and my entire body convulses with him. Relief swallows me whole. I let it all out. Each breath dissolves into a shudder.
He pulls out of me, then slams the cage closed. The lock echoes through the room.
He’s leaving already?
Fuck!
“Please,” I sob. “Don’t leave. Please—”
He winks. “No matter how hard you beg, you’ll have to wait until I’m ready to use you again.”
As he exits the room, semen dribbles out of my asshole. I try to comfort myself, and I end up repeating the same lines over and over again to myself.
I made him cum.
I made him cum.
I made him cum.
I did well.