𝔻ancing with the 𝔻evil ❪ ⁿ ˢ ᶠ ʷ ❫ ┆ reverie. & father figure

[reverie.]

. D A N C I N G  W I T H  T H E  D E V I L a roleplay by reverie.  &  father figure   C O N T A I N S  N S F W  E L E M E N T S   ​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   Audrie was used to bending the rules—sometimes even breaking them—but this time she might have crossed a line. And she knew it. But she was confident that she could get away with it. It wouldn't be the first time she had gotten away with something outrageous. Probably wouldn't be the last either. When her friends had started pestering her about throwing a pool party—after she'd mentioned spending a weekend by the pool—she'd been reluctant at first. But after learning that the house would be empty the following weekend, she'd eventually given in. The only problem was that it wasn't her pool. It wasn't even her house. She'd told her friends that she was allowed to use the pool whenever she wanted, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. They all met at the house that Saturday around noon, Audrie and her friends had a blast in the pool first, then by the pool, but when the evening settled in, they moved inside to the living room. Their swimsuits were spread across the living room, hanging over chairs and on cabinet knobs. They'd all changed into something more comfortable—something dry. Audrie was cuddled up in the corner of the couch in an oversized t-shirt with only a matching lingerie set underneath. Lauren and Mia sat next to her in their own pajamas, sharing a blanket. Chris and Benjamin—also known as Benji—sat on the other side of the couch without their shirts, while Will was currently seated in an armchair on the other side of the table in only his boxers. The chair wasn't supposed to be there, but he'd moved it for the occasion. Audrie would make sure it was moved back to its original location later. There was barely any space left on the coffee table. It was packed with tin cans, bottles, bags of chips, snacks, chocolate bars and all sorts of shit. Not to mention everything that was on the floor. They were in the middle of a round of Never have I ever when the doorbell rang. Audrie got to her feet. It had to be the pizza they'd ordered a while ago. "I'll get it!" She knew there was a chance that this pizza delivery guy was the one who was hot as hell and she wouldn't miss an opportunity to flirt with him. Maybe this time he'd invite her out. "Don't forget to wipe the drool off your chin!" Lauren called after her. Audrie flipped her off over her shoulder. The others chuckled. She had such great friends. The shock on her face when she opened the door was undeniable. She recognized the man standing on the porch in a split second. It was definitely not the pizza delivery guy. She never thought she'd live to experience the day she was scared to see her own uncle. A sliver of fear reflected in her eyes as she flashed him one of her signature grins, pretending to be happy to see him. And maybe—just maybe—she would have been. . . if it hadn't been his door she had opened. "Uncle Jerry," she greeted him, trying her best to conceal her initial shock. "What are you doing here?" As if she had the right to ask him what he was doing outside his own house. But what she really meant was what was he doing there now? He was supposed to be out of town. But if anyone should be asking that question, it was him. Because he was probably wondering what she was doing there. She and her small group of friends who she wished would shut the fuck up right about now. "Stop flirting with the guy—I'm starving!" Benji shouted from the living room. Audrie pretended she didn't hear it. Her eyes were locked on her uncle's as if trying to figure out exactly how pissed he was at her for borrowing his house to host a party without his permission. Audrie leaned against the doorframe, blocking the entrance. This might be his house, but there was just no fucking way she was inviting him in when they had thrashed his living room with booze, snacks and . . . wet clothes.​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   Jeremiah Milton was not a man easily taken by surprise. In his line of work, as a real estate investor, he had learned to anticipate every possibility. His weekend trip to Boston was supposed to have been another one of those ventures, an exclusive deal for a waterfront property that had seemed airtight. But deals could unravel just as quickly as they came together, and when the financing had collapsed at the last minute, there had been nothing left for him in the city but wasted time. So, he had returned home early, the thought of an empty house, a quiet evening, offering a faint reprieve from the frustration of the failed negotiation. Except, the house was not empty. Jeremiah Milton’s car rolled to a stop in front of his house, the slow crunch of gravel beneath the tires an unwelcome prelude to the sight before him. The house stood as it always had, tall and angular with its sharp lines and modern design but something was certainly amiss. There were unfamiliar cars parked along the street in front of his house and his hand immediately picked up his phone to begin dialing the police to report a potential break in before his brow furrowed. There was a brief second before his mind provided some context, realizing one of the vehicles belonged to his niece, Audrie Andrews. Jeremiah’s thumb hovered briefly over the icon to place the call before clicking his phone shut. A pulse of irritation surged beneath his skin. How dare she? Audrie knew the kind of man Jeremiah was, or at least generally his temperament which most would not find amiable. Jeremiah was not a man given to whimsical anger, nor was he prone to rash conclusions. His life was lived in careful calculations, a methodical existence driven by logic, investment, and measured risk. He owned properties by the dozen, and rarely did any of them present surprises. But this, his home, the one place that offered sanctuary from the world, was supposed to remain untouched, especially in his absence. His privacy was not something to be pissed away by an imbecilic twenty-something. The sanctity of his home was not the currency which they could spend so frivolously. Jeremiah stepped out of the car, his shoes striking the gravel with a deliberate, unhurried cadence. There was no hesitation in his stride as he shut the car door behind him. His frame, tall and lean from years of discipline, moved with a controlled, almost predatory grace. Each step was calculated, every movement precise, as though this small disruption of order had activated something sharper within him. He was dressed casually for the business trip that had not materialized. A fitted gray shirt that clung to his athletic form, the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, paired with dark slacks that spoke of efficiency, of someone who never allowed the details to slip. A pair of polished loafers completed the look, their shine dulling only slightly from the dust that collected as he crossed the drive. His eyes remained fixed on the house ahead, his jaw tight, dark hair slicked back with an almost military exactness. Jeremiah’s lips pressed into a thin line; the set of his mouth grim. He was not the type to raise his voice, to storm into a room full of people. That was not his style. But the certainty of eviction was there, cold and absolute, a foregone conclusion. This was his home. He didn’t need to shout to make that clear. And when Audrie answered the door, she could see every bit of his cold anger as he stood in the entryway, eyes narrowing and staring down at her. Willing her to show some measure of consternation, some show of apology. His voice was clipped, dangerous as he spoke a few simple sentences, and as he spoke a finger rose to point directly at Audrie’s chest. “Your friends leave, you stay. Take care of it. Now.”​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   Audrie didn't know what she had expected. It wasn't like she would be pleased to find out someone was having a party in her apartment without her knowing about it. But her uncle was supposed to be out of town this weekend, and his house was so big she honestly didn't see the problem in her borrowing a small portion of it—all right, maybe she did. She just didn't want to admit how wrong it had been even to assume it would be okay. The reason she hadn't asked in the first place was because she knew he would say no. But then again, he wasn't supposed to find out. But, it was clear as day that her uncle was not pleased with her and his reaction was perfectly reasonable. So, when he eventually opened his mouth to give her instructions, she knew she'd only make things worse if she tried to argue with him. "All right," she muttered under her breath as she turned her back to him. Her good mood was long gone when she made her appearance in the living room. "Where's the pizza?" Benji asked when he saw her show up empty-handed. Audrie took a deep breath before she said, "You guys need to leave." There was no need to beat around the bush. Her uncle wanted them gone and it was obvious that he wanted them out of his house right fucking now. Lauren looked puzzled, but Mia looked worried, "What do you mean, leave?" Will chimed in, "Yeah, we can't leave now—we haven't eaten yet!" "Guys," Audrie said harshly. "You need to leave now." She couldn't remember ever talking to her friends like this, but they had to listen. She didn't want to find out what would happen if they stayed. I wasn't like they needed to see or hear her uncle giving her a speech about how irresponsible she'd been. Because that was what she was expecting from him—unless he decided to call her parents. Fuck, what would they think? No, Uncle Jerry wouldn't tell them, not if she asked him not to. "Please," she begged her friends. "Grab your clothes and call a cab. I'll pay for it." Audrie picked up some empty tin cans from the floor and placed them on the table. "I'll clean this up and you can pick up the cars tomorrow. Okay? Please." After meeting Mia's gaze, Audrie added, "My uncle came home early." That seemed to be enough explanation to get the girls moving, but the guys didn't budge. "Oh, come on—he can join us!" Chris exclaimed, but Mia hit him in the shoulder from behind. "Come on, guys," she said, encouraging the others to move their asses. "We can continue at my place. Audrie can join us when she's done here—" Mia looked over at her friend with a faint smile. "If you want to, of course. No pressure." Audrie smiled back at her, "If I'm done cleaning up this mess before it's too late, I'll join you." But Audrie had a feeling her uncle wouldn't let her leave before this place was spotless, and God knew how long that would take. Picking up another bottle from the floor, she looked over at Chris and Benji who had finally gotten up from the couch. "Have fun, all right? I'm sorry, guys—I really am. I'll make sure the pizza gets delivered to you so you don't starve." She forced out a laugh, trying to meet her friends' gazes. They all grabbed their swimwear, their drinks, and the remains of the snacks before they headed for the door. If her uncle was still there, her friends didn't say much to him as they passed him. Mia might have muttered a nice to meet you, while Will would have raised his beer in a cheers! Audrie watched them leave, but she remained in the living room. Her uncle would join her shortly anyway, but she wasn't planning on staying around for long now that her friends were gone. The faster she could clean this up, the faster she could join them at Mia's place. She was bent over the coffee table, shuffling cans and bottles around to find out which ones were empty and which ones weren't, when she heard his footsteps approaching. "Look," she began, "I know what you're going to say, and I'm sorry. I know I should have asked. . ." It wasn't really an apology, but close enough.​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   There was cold and then there was ice cold. The wintry look in his eyes as the young men and women filed out of his house could have frozen the countryside with its sharp glare. They were the same eyes of a man who might have taken them all out into his backyard and put a bullet in the back of their heads before burying them, and that harsh mien would leave a lasting impression that might haunt them even into their older years. It was the look that said he was memorizing them in case he ever needed to come pay them a visit, that he would never forget their faces, the kind of dangerous gleam that hinted he might come calling in the middle of the night to remind them that there were ways they could be punished for breaching his sanctuary. There was no need for words to be bandied or shared, no requirement to raise his voice and reprimand them, for it was not truly them who had broken the sanctity of his home. It was Audrie, and it was she who would soon be paying the price for that little fact. Jeremiah simply had not determined what that price was going to be. Instead, he stood like a judgmental guardian, lips thinly pressed together, hands clasped tightly behind his back until all had left the home and he was alone with his niece. Then, and only then, did he step inside and shut the door behind him. And then he paused, hearing Audrie inside cleaning up, and his head tilted as he considered. There was something distinctly alien about the man, like he was disconnected in the moment from anything remotely human, and some kind of decision was made as he ran through the calculations. There was a seething anger beneath that cold logic though, a feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach, and it was not something he was used to experiencing. His hand came up to touch the dead bolt, fingers moving across it as if giving a simple caress before he clicked it into place. The decision made he moved to lock the knob itself, and then to put the chain on. Last he turned to the alarm system, turning it on with the air of a man having made a rather confidant decision. All evidence suggested that her and her friends had broken in without his permission, and if Audrie chose to leave the premises without his say so then the authorities would become involved. Whether she knew it or not. The sound of his footsteps was a tolling bell as they clicked down the foyer to join her, his eyes narrowing as he heard her words. Sorry? Maybe she was, but it did not quite seem it. It seemed more that she was trying to shirk her responsibility in this tragedy as quickly as she could. His voice held a small measure of that unforgiving sound, every word laced with it as he chose them with infinite care. Like he was speaking to a child. “Do you think a simple apology will suffice, Audrie? That would require you to be truly apologetic, but the truth is simply that you are chagrined to have been caught in the act. Like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar.” His eyes glittered as he watched her, a small snarl coming to one side of his mouth as his lips twitched upwards like he was near growling even though no other physical aspect hinted at a feral physicality. But then he asked the question that really mattered. The only important question to ask. “Where did your friends go in my home?” ​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   Of course, she didn't think a simple apology would be enough, but what more did he want? It wasn't like she could turn back time and do things differently—even if she could, she'd probably do the exact same thing. The only difference would be to make sure they cleaned up and left earlier, moving the party somewhere else before he showed up. Audrie met his gaze and straightened her back as soon as she saw his expression. If he'd had a gun, she had a feeling he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. Suddenly, she was very grateful for the short distance separating them. "You're right, okay?" she admitted, making her voice louder so she was sure it wouldn't break. "I thought I could pull this off, and I'm sorry. But it's not like I'm gonna leave it like this—" She waved a hand toward the messy table in front of her. "I'll leave it just like we found it. You won't even know we were here, I promise." It would take a bit longer to clean it up now that she didn't have her friends to help her, but she would make it spotless. But then he asked her a question she didn't quite see coming. Her expression changed from slightly apologetic and scared to straight-out confused. What exactly did he mean by that? Where did your friends go in my home? Why did it even matter? It wasn't like any of them were contagious. And after she was done cleaning, he wouldn't be able to tell anyone had been there. "I'm not sure how that's relevant, but let me walk you through our day, yeah?" She leaned backward and fell onto the couch, pulling her legs up and crossing them—not realizing how much of her thighs got exposed in that position. "We used the pool—" She waved a hand over her shoulder toward the pool outside. "Then we spent some time outside in the sun. We borrowed the sunbeds, some chairs, took some water from the fridge—wait, I think Benji actually grabbed a soda, but I'll pay you back for that, don't worry. And for the water. I was gonna replace all that stuff tomorrow anyway." She took a short pause, "Oh! And we grabbed some ice from the freezer." Perhaps he didn't want all the details, but she gave them to him anyway. "Then we went inside, and took turns in the shower—don't worry, we were quick. We used our own towels too." Another pause. "Then we changed into some dry clothes and have been sitting here ever since. I mean, we've been to the bathroom a few times, but that's it. Oh, and I think Will borrowed a bottle opener at some point, but I think he put it back." Her head turned to look towards the kitchen before they returned to him. "And this is yours by the way" she said, grabbing her t-shirt by the front—in case he hadn't recognized it yet. It was pretty basic so it might as well have been hers or someone else's. But since it was his and he hadn't given it to her, it meant she'd been in his bedroom where she'd gone through his wardrobe. She might even have opened more drawers than she'd needed to find something to wear, but she didn't tell him that. "Mia spilled her entire drink over me and I didn't want to sit in my underwear," she explained. "My clothes are in the bathroom." The young woman rested her hands in her lap and leaned back against the back of the couch, trying to read what her uncle made of it all. It must have been a lot to take in, especially if this wasn't what he'd wanted to know. "We've ordered pizza, so that's probably gonna be here any minute now." Now that she thought about it, she was fucking starving. ​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   The methodical rundown of the activities of the pathetic children that had invaded his private space was less a boon and far more irritating than Audrie intended it to be. It was an annoying litany that invaded his brain, made room inside of the back of his mind, like a parasite that began to grow into a sick disease that spread throughout his entire psyche. To have attempted to articular the cold dangerous anger that permeated his being would have been to give voice to something abhorrent, and so the man merely stood there and stared at her with unblinking eyes. Eyes that slowly turned from viewing Audrie as some mere nuisance and instead considered her as an actual problem that needed to be fixed. The intensity in his eyes as he narrowed them, how he stepped forward just slightly towards her as she leaned back, revealed a man who was bordering on some kind of break but refraining from indulging in the simplicity of merely yelling at the young girl. Something about that seemed far too kind to her, far too considerate of her own emotions and well-being when they had been so dismissive of his own. And if she was trying to discern what he thought, well, it was hard to know what happened behind that alien countenance. His hands though, they twitched slightly as she spoke of having gone into his bedroom, a nervous motion that hinted something was amiss. An eyelid twitched as he took a deep slow breath, as if trying to determine what he would say, what he could even say, that would settle this situation. That would let him know the state of his ire, but there was nothing that could even come close to that in the English language. And that was when he slapped her. His hand came back, moving like a swift snake, and with a stunning suddenness the palm connected across her face. He did not need to use his full strength, the act alone was remarkable in its expression of displeasure, and the aftershock of the event could be felt in the atmosphere of the room. As the sound ebbed away, leaving them in silence, his hand took her by the chin and forced her to gaze up at him, and for a brief second his eyes admired the look of redness spreading across her lovely pale skin. “Did you find anything else, Audrie,” he said through clenched jaw. He started to say more but then the doorbell rang, the interruption that she had been expecting. The imminent danger hung in the air, thick and tense, as Jeremiah stared at her. His patience a taut wire threatening to snap. Again, the chime of the doorbell cut through the rising storm between them. A finger came up, a small motion as he held it in front of her face, and he whispered. “Do not move, do not speak, if you do so, it will only get worse for you. There is nowhere to fucking go.” And without another word he pivoted on his heel, moving to deal with the disturbance so that he could return and once more impose order. The conversation, the anger, was paused but not forgotten, simmering just beneath the surface. His eyes, cold and focused, locked onto the door as he crossed the foyer. Audrie would have only a few spare moments to do anything before he returned. Would she use it to run? The sound of the alarm being turned off would be the only chance of reprieve she had.​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   Even if her uncle had given her a fair warning, she wouldn't have been prepared for what just happened. A startled cry filled the room as he slapped her across the cheek, the sudden pain so intense she almost choked on her own breath. The small hand that flew up to comfort her cheek was blocked by the massive one he'd used to grab her by the chin. Audrie glared up at her uncle in shock and disbelief, her eyes wide and glistening with tears. She thought she'd experienced true fear before, but nothing could compare to what she felt at this moment when she saw the darkness—the fury—in her uncle's eyes. It was like he was no longer human. Okay, so maybe she should have asked for permission. No, maybe this idea shouldn't have crossed her mind in the first place. Audrie knew how much her uncle valued his belongings—his privacy. He'd told her several times growing up, don't touch that. Hell, he'd even told her that last month when he'd brought his new car to a family dinner. She should have known this wouldn't end well. Even if she hadn't caught her in the act, he would have found out something was amiss when he noticed a shirt was missing from his closet. Not to mention all the. . . other stuff she'd gone through when snooping around in his bedroom. She hadn't intended to, but when she'd opened the drawer it had just been there. And she had fucked up. Big time. Audrie prayed he didn't remember where everything had been because she certainly hadn't when she'd put things back after studying it. She didn't even know what half of it was and she could only imagine what it was used for. She wasn't stupid though, she knew it was her uncle's collection of sex toys, but she had no fucking idea what he was doing with it. She couldn't quite see him handcuffing himself to the bed. And last time she checked, he wasn't gay, so what did he need all those dildos for? Unless. . . How often did he have women over? And then there were all these other items she had no idea what was—some of them didn't even look like they were from this world. And certainly not meant for humans. As Audrie had closed the drawers, she was determined to take this secret to the grave, but when her uncle practically growled in her face, she had a feeling he already knew what she'd stumbled upon. Not that she was planning on telling him. "Nothing, nothing!" she squeaked. "I found nothing!" Perhaps she didn't sound very convincing, but she fed him the lie nonetheless. When the doorbell rang, her eyes darted to the side. She knew it was the pizza guy—it had to be. Relief flooded through her as the bell rang again. Someone had to get the door. When she met his gaze again, she could tell her uncle was thinking the same. He didn't seem particularly pleased with the interruption. Audrie, on the other hand, couldn't have been more grateful. She couldn't wait for Uncle Jerry to let her go. For him to get out of her fucking face. She cowered under his presence as he spoke, her eyes glowing with fear. A shaky breath escaped her lips after he'd let go of her and she finally placed her palm against her burning cheek. Her mind yelled at her not to move. And she had every intention of not moving too, she really did. She even thought she could do it, obeying him. He had made it pretty fucking clear that she was to remain where she was and not make a sound. But the moment his back disappeared behind the wall that separated the hallway from the living room, Audrie bolted from the couch as if the fabric had been set on fire. He was right about one thing though. . . there was nowhere for her to go. But she didn't go anywhere; she fucking sprinted. Through the living room, up the stairs at the end of the hall—Jeremiah was bound to hear her, if not see her if he turned his head—and into the bathroom at the top of the stairs. It was the first room that came to mind when panic settled in. The only room that wasn't too personal. She locked the door but kept her hand on the knob just in case. Because Audrie wasn't exactly hiding in there. No, she was just buying herself time. It wasn't like she believed her uncle would be less furious now, but at least he couldn't hurt her when she was in here. And maybe—just maybe—he'd be more inclined to work things out with her when he didn't have to resist the urge to strangle her.​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    monster   Jeremiah strode to the door with deliberate steps, the tension still thick in the air even if he was no longer present in the room. The sound of him curling his hands around the sleek handle of his door, swinging it open, and what did he find on the other side? Just a young man in a wrinkled uniform holding a stack of pizza boxes, his expression one of bored interest. The pizza had already been paid for, so the young man barely paid attention to who was answering the door, more focused on his phone than the man before him. The warm evening air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of melted cheese and garlic. An offensive contrast to the refined tastes Jeremiah tended to prefer. Jeremiah's dark eyes flicked over the boxes, their cheap cardboard radiating grease. He said nothing, there was no need, this was just another unwelcome intrusion. Another detail he had not approved. But then from the inside of the house came noises that would attract anyone's curiosity. The sound of desperation, running feet sprinting down the halls of his home, and the slamming of a door within. It was unmistakable, and it quickly changed the tenor of the delivery. Jeremiah's head had tilted, turning slightly over his shoulder as he listened, his eyes narrowing before gazing at the now rather attentive young man who was busy trying to decide what to do. And in that instance, capitalism saved the day. As the young man leaned to look inside, eyes squinty behind his glasses to try to ascertain if there was someone in danger, Jeremiah reached behind his back. With a practiced indifference he pulled out his wallet, the action merely mechanical, knowing that this was a problem that could be solved before returning to the real dilemma inside. His thumb opened it, revealing a large assortment of bills, and he quickly thumbed out two hundred dollars before pausing and tugging an additional hundred. Three hundred total, handed over in the blink of the eye, and one refined eyebrow rose as his other hand took the pizza boxes with a nonchalant air. Nothing to see here, that mannerism said, nothing to tell anyone about. Money talked; bullshit walked. And Jeremiah's eyes hinted that if the other man had a difference of opinion on the subject that it could be settled too. One way or the other. There was a brief hesitation from the delivery driver, holding the money in his hand like he was about to be burnt by it, but then the decision was made as he pocketed it and left. Neither of the men exchanged a single word of verbal dialogue, but they both understood. Discretion was sometimes the better part of valor, and this young man had decided not to find out what would happen otherwise. Better to keep his nose out of someone else's business. Summarily the door was shut, the lock and alarm reengaged, and the pizza was placed in a large trash bag which was promptly tied up. Jeremiah did not need the smell of it permeating his home. Nor did he seem to be in any kind of rush, there was no requirement to follow Audrie immediately. After all, it was not as if his niece was going anywhere. He would deal with her once he was ready. The older man walked over to the kitchen sink, unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves, and washed his hands to remove the grease from his fingertips. Jeremiah would not endure the slimy sensation upon his skin. Calmly he dried his hands with a washcloth, his features calm and nearly placid. An alien with human skin. And now to deal with Audrie. The sound of his footsteps carried as well, but unlike her there was nothing panicked about his behavior. It was like a horror movie when the killer knew exactly where you were hiding, and no amount of holding your breath could save you from his approach. Click, click, click went his shoes upon the hardwood stairs, the steady approach of her doom. There was a pause outside the door, as if he could hear her stirring, and his fingers came to rest on the doorknob though he was certain that he would find it locked. His measured voice spoke, clear and unrelenting. "Audrie. You are making this harder on yourself. Now, unlock the door and we can sit down and continue. Because if I have to break it down, and you know I can…," he let his words drag off, letting her imagination wonder exactly would be in store for her if he had to take matters into his own hands.​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   One would have thought that Audrie’s pulse would start to settle when Jeremiah didn’t come racing after her, but for some reason, him taking his sweet time only made it worse. Audrie clutched the handle with her right hand, even though the door was already locked and she couldn’t hear him on the other side of it. Her left hand was pressed against her red cheek, trying to cool the stinging pain that didn’t seem to ease no matter what she did. Perhaps some cold water would have helped, but she was afraid to move away from the door. There was even a moment when she thought her uncle had decided to leave her be, or at least changed his mind about coming after her, but deep down she knew that wasn’t the case. He would come, and when he did, it wouldn’t be pretty. When she heard steady footsteps coming up the stairs, her body froze entirely. She held her breath—as if he didn’t already know where she was hiding—clutching the handle so hard her fingers started to ache and. . . waited. But she didn’t know exactly what she was waiting for. She’d half expected him to bang on the door, demanding that she open it. Hell, she’d even expected him to kick it in. But when all she heard on the other side was silence, a new wave of panic surged through her. A wave that was replaced by a shock wave of pure terror a few seconds later when she heard his voice through the door. Without seeing her uncle's face, it was impossible to know whether or not he meant what he was saying. To know whether or not he was still furious. Because he sounded calm and collected, but his previous actions—and words—said otherwise. There was a part of her that wanted to believe him, a part that wanted to believe that they could sit down and have a conversation about this and sort things out in a civil manner. Then there was another part of her that was afraid that he would slap her again the second she opened that door. But there was also a part of her that knew what would happen if she didn’t open that door anytime soon—a slap on her cheek would be the least of her worries. Perhaps her uncle was sorry about that. . . Perhaps he hadn’t actually meant to hurt her. Surely, that must have been a mistake. He wouldn't hurt her on purpose. . . . would he? And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that he would do it again. And again. And again. Audrie didn’t want to imagine what he would do when—if—he found out she’d been going through his private collection. How much she'd seen—touched. There was a chance he would never know and Audrie would like to keep it that way. As long as she didn’t tell him, she’d be safe. As long as she didn't tell him, he would never fucking know. “Okay,” she said quietly, lowering her hand from her cheek to let it rest on the wall next to the door. “I’ll open the door—” But Audrie did no such thing. At least not yet. Instead, she leaned her forehead against the wood and continued. “But you have to promise that you’ll hear me out, okay? We can sit down and talk.” She took a deep breath before unlocking the door and turning the handle, starting to peek through a tiny crack in the door. A fraction of her face appeared in the narrow opening, her left eye meeting his. “Just talk,” she offered, trying to hide her fear behind the door along with the rest of her body. ​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   His niece was naïve. That was not to say he could blame her. While Jeremiah did not seem reasonable, in fact he seemed downright dangerous, the long history of their relationship had created a dynamic that undermined the caution that Audrie was feeling. Surely her Uncle would never hurt her, not really, and even if he seemed like he was furious enough to touch her, it would not be to the point of harm. At the utmost all he would do is what most men did when they decided to play the big bad role of masculinity. Stomp around, shouting and yelling at the sky, maybe grabbing a woman by the arm, and pointing a finger in their face, but they would stop shy of ever committing a crime. But when Audrie opened the door, her expectation was swiftly shattered, a cold dash of reality that one should never trust someone who had shown such violent tendencies, even if they had known them for their entire life. Jeremiah’s hand reached out to grab her dark hair, jerking her harshly and through the slight opening of the door so that her shoulder slammed against the wooden frame with a sickening thud. And yet that manhandling was not the worst aspect of it, not in the slightest, but it was the sheer virtuosity at which Jeremiah approached the subject matter at hand. His hands on her were confident, self-assured, as if he had done such things to the flesh of a woman before. Except this time the woman in question was the lovely Audrie. Jeremiah dragged her down the hallway to his bedroom, a sanctuary that Audrie had already breached and soiled with her presence, his hands unrelenting as he ignored any attempt of the young woman to free herself from his assault. The peaceful simplicity of the room was shattered when he threw open the door, tossing her bodily across the space and onto the king-sized bed. The low frame, made of black steel, gave a small shudder as her weight was tossed upon the pristine crisp white sheets and grey blanket. Audrie had already been here before, just not from this vantage point. The walls were a deep slate gray, cool and muted. A single expansive window dominated one wall, framed by heavy curtains, that when drawn would seal the room in a cocoon of privacy and darkness. Against one wall was a sleek dresser and against the other a television hung. There were no paintings, no family photos or decorative knick-knacks. A single floor lamp stood in one corner. It was so fitting Jeremiah and his personality, a reflection of his obsession with order and control over his surroundings. It was that control that Audrie had broken, leaving him feeling powerless, and there was only one way for him to redress that sense of loss. His hands came down to his belt. “Now,” he began as he unhooked his belt and slid it free of the loops on his slacks, the sound of the expensive leather a slow rustling as it came free. “You know, but I suspect you only know the tip of the iceberg. Otherwise, you would have called the police. But I can see it, in your eyes, that you found some of the tamer toys.” An eyebrow rose as he doubled the belt over in his hand, giving it a firm slap against his palm. “Which is good, it means you might leave today capable of walking.” In some fantasy he would have spanked her at that point, some fantastical retelling where she stuck her ass in the air for him and he reddened her backside. But this was the real world. The belt began to come down, steady swishes through the air that ended with a crack on Audrie’s flesh. He did not seem to care whether he caught her arms, or her thighs, or her tits. Though he did avoid hitting her face, not wanting to mark her so openly. And his voice hissed with quite deliberation. “Apologize. Beg. Make me believe you.” ​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   Audrie had never been more wrong in her entire life. To think that her uncle was anything but a liar—a monster. This was not the same man who had once let her sit on his lap while reading her bedtime stories. No, the man outside the bathroom door terrified her. She should have known her uncle wouldn't play fair. That she couldn't trust him. That he would grab her the moment she opened that door. And he fucking did. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her through the narrow opening, bruising—if not shattering—her poor shoulder in the process. The cry that escaped her lips after the sickening thud echoed down the hallway. "Stop—Let go!" No matter how many times Audrie begged him to let go, he didn't. So he had either gone deaf all of a sudden or he simply didn't care that he was hurting her. The fact that she knew it was the latter only fueled her growing fear of her uncle—what had he become? But maybe the question she should be asking herself wasn't what, but rather. . . how long? How long had he been this monster? How many women had he dragged to his bedroom? She knew she couldn't be the first. Because the way he dragged her along, it was with such ease that he must have done it at least a dozen times before. Or at least enough times to perfect the act. Because he left Audrie with no choice but to keep her legs moving unless she wanted to end up being dragged along the floor by her hair. And that was not happening. ​ By the time he tossed her on his bed, her shoulder was throbbing and her scalp was aching. One would have thought that landing on something so soft couldn't possibly cause any harm, but Audrie landed on her bad shoulder, and the excruciating pain that shot through her body made her wail in agony. She jolted up into a sitting position, her good arm reaching up to clutch her shoulder as if that would somehow decrease the pain, but she could barely touch it without wincing. The pain was about to take over her fear when her uncle's voice filled her eardrums, pushing her fear to the surface again. Her eyes landed on his hands as they unbuckled the belt he was wearing, and widened slightly when she realized what he was planning on doing with it. She was almost so focused on his hands, she didn't pay attention to his words, but she heard them. She just didn't make any sense of it. Should she have called the police? For what? Tamer toys—that part she understood. She had found some. . . toys. Some she knew what was and some she had no clue how was used. Fear practically radiated from her eyes as she watched him give his palm a slap with his belt. Audrie knew he was going to use it on her next. His threat told her that much. But at least she'd be leaving. . . But what if she could prevent him from using his belt on her? What if she convinced him she didn't know what the fuck he was talking about? "Uncle Jerry, I swear—" He didn't even give her a warning. Audrie screamed. The stinging pain that erupted as the leather struck her bare thighs was ten times worse than she could have ever imagined. She knew the blow was coming, and yet no warning could have prepared her for the pain that followed. Her hands flew up to cover her face as he drew his arm back to strike again. She moved her body from side to side, arms up and down, trying to avoid being struck, or at least soften the blows, but that belt still hit her every damn time. He had set her body ablaze, inside and out. Her thighs, her forearms, her hip, her shoulder, her tits. It fucking hurt. And the fact that her shoulder throbbed from earlier certainly didn't make moving any easier. "Stop, please!" she begged. "Just stop!" A combination of cries, sobs, and pleas filled the room as her uncle let his belt rain down on her like acid rain on her delicate skin, burning her. Vicious lashes she couldn't escape no matter how hard she tried to get out of the belt's way. "For fucks sake—stop!" She was frantic now, out of breath. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I should have—" Another loud scream escaped her lips, cutting off her own words. Black tears now stained her rosy cheeks. "Okay, fine! I saw it, I saw it!" she confessed, trying to block his next blow with one arm. "I won't tell anyone, I swear! I'm sorry! I don't even know what I saw!" she bellowed. Well, that wasn't the whole truth, but she was desperate. He had to stop before her skin started falling off and it was already on fire.

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   No amount of pleading seemed to sway the cruel maliciousness of the man above her, and why would it when her agony had transformed his fury into something far more disgusting. He was pleased with the result, her begging, her pain, her confession even. Purifying himself by scourging her. There was a glint in his eyes, the glint of the sadist, who reveled in the suffering of others. The true nature of her uncle came into being in that moment, but his cruelty was not impulsive or reckless; rather it was rooted in a deep desire for dominance and mastery over his environment and the people within it. His sadism was woven into the fabric of his meticulously ordered life, where power was derived through manipulation. Subtly inflicting discomfort, fear, or humiliation with measure precision. It was the latter which he had elicited from Audrie in her blubbering foolish attempts to sway him, a humiliation of the soul that she would remember from this day forward. And it was that lone which brought the actions to a halt. He stood there like a man entranced by his own artwork, gazing at her dark tear-stained face, and she was exquisite. Broken, desperate, and aching. Those eyes of his were wide, like lenses on a camera, trying to capture the moment in picture perfect clarity. “Don’t even know what you saw?” The words came out dripping with sarcasm, a tongue lashing without even trying. They were mingled condescension and humor, a man who was looking down on her like she was a bug, and each word seemed like a blow of the belt itself. Don’t…even…know…what…you…saw? He was laughing at her, but it never left his eyes, a sincere and absolute humor like some errant child had told him that she had not stolen a cookie out of the jar. Oh, you didn’t little girl? Then where is it? Maybe some monster came in and stole the cookies while I was gone? Is that it? Except that this time the monster was Jeremiah Milton, and his voice continued to radiate that terrible despisal of Audrie. Certainly, he had been cold to her in life, certainly he had been dismissive, but he had never been so outwardly abusive. Never even laid a hand on her, until now. “You don’t know what you saw? I’m sorry, Audrie, I really am. I thought I was talking to an adult, about adult topics. I did not realize I was speaking with an innocent little girl. If that’s the case, then we are doing this all wrong.” Suddenly one leg came up onto the bed with her, bracing, his fingers taking her by her dark strands and he pulled her up and off. It was done with primal physicality, uncaring about whatever defenses the young girl might put up. There were many in this world with the imbecility to imagine that a woman could stand up to a grown man, could somehow stop him from doing what he chose, but this was reality. This was not some Hollywood movie. People spouted those views because they lived in delusion protected from repercussions. Protected by the men who chose not to abuse them. Jeremiah had no compunction about the subject matter, and he quickly taught Audrie how much of a child she was in his hands. In a scant handful of second she was facedown into the sheets, the shirt riding up to show the curve of her bottom, ready to be punished. This time though he did not start wailing on her, this time was definitive punishment. A determined approach like he was scolding her, teaching her a lesson, and in a way he most certainly was. “You…have…been…very...bad…,” each word was emphasized with a strap of that belt across her bottom, reddening the cheeks beautifully. The punishment continued. “I…bet…a girl…like you…knows…exactly…what…she…saw!” ​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   Audrie had definitely said the wrong thing. She could hear it in his voice, see it on his face. In the blink of an eye, she regretted her decision to play dumb. Audrie knew what kind of collection she'd stumbled upon, she knew what the majority of the toys were, even though there were items she'd never seen before. They both knew she wasn't that ignorant. Audie might be half his age, but she was not a virgin. Nor was she inexperienced, despite what her parents might think. But she had never used any of the toys she'd found in his collection. Hell, she'd never really seen much of it with her own eyes either, only pictures and explanations online. But that wasn't the root of the issue at hand. No, her uncle claimed he wanted to talk, and yet he gave her no opportunity to open her mouth to explain herself. Audrie wanted to speak about this. One adult to another. But he'd burned that bridge the moment he struck her with his belt. And he hadn't even stopped there. If he had, perhaps she'd been able to forgive him. But that ship sailed when he'd pulled his hand back to strike her again. And again. And again. Audrie would never forgive him for this. Never forget it. The pain he inflicted on her would be an imprint burned into her skin. A constant reminder of what he was capable of, but also what he had done. What happened next happened too fast. One second she was still trying to avoid his belt, begging him to stop as the leather continued to bruise her skin, and the next she found herself face-down on top of the sheets with her ass bare save for the thin fabric that hugged her hips. It was a cute pantie, but if she'd known she was going to get her ass spanked, she would have picked one that covered more of her cheeks. She didn't have time to move or adjust to her new position before the belt struck her exposed bottom and another sob escaped her lips. Her hands automatically tried to cover her cheeks, but she quickly withdrew them after he struck them too. "Jerry, stop!" More tears rolled down her face as she desperately tried to wriggle her ass to avoid the belt, but it only resulted in the belt hitting untouched skin. It didn't take many lashes before her ass was on fire, and she just wanted her uncle to stop. Some of her sobs transformed into agonizing gasps whenever he hit a sore spot. "Please, stop! Just stop!" She continued to squirm on the bed, her body reacting to the pain and humiliation her uncle put her through. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She attempted to push herself up on her elbows so she could look back at him, her face a wet, stained mess. "I know, I know, okay!? I know what I saw! But I won't tell anyone, I swear! Please, I swear!" Who would she even tell? Her friends? Her family? What would she say? Hey, did you know Uncle Jerry has an enormous collection of sex toys? I wonder what he does with it. As if that wasn't obvious. If he could inflict so much pain by using his fucking belt, surely he knew how to use the other items in his collection. Audrie couldn't help but wonder how many women had been in her position. Perhaps not for the same reason, but going through what she was going through right now. She wondered if any of them had volunteered. She certainly hadn't.​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   Mercy came. Was it because of the begging, the way that she desperately tried to get away from Jeremiah even as he jerked her back into place to continue that brutish strapping of her young rear end? For a moment, as Jeremiah stood muted, the cries from Audrie echoing faintly as he considered taking it easy on her. The thought arrived like a brief flutter of something foreign, almost distant, as though a part of him, buried under years of sharpened control, was trying to surface. Audrie was young, careless, like most at her age. She had grown up in a world where boundaries were never clearly defined, where the consequences for crossing lines were often vague, if they existed at all. It was not entirely her fault, he supposed. And for just a second, Jeremiah let himself imagine what it would feel like to forgive her. The belt hung limply in one hand as he looked away, no fear in his frame to the thought that she might attempt to retaliate, he was quite certain he had put the fear of God into her little soul. The disorder she had brought into his abode irritated him, but underneath that irritation, something softer stirred. She was family. She was not just another person to dominate or break under his scrutiny. Maybe it would not be the worst thing to simply let this one go, to let her mistake wash over him like a passing inconvenience. After all, it was not like she had meant any actual harm. The notion of forgiveness unraveled the more he turned it over in his mind, like the fraying edge of a fabric too worn to be mended. Jeremiah’s fingers tightened on the belt, the well-made leather creaking beneath the pressure. He let out a slow, measured breath, as though trying to exhale the soft sentiment he had momentarily entertained. But it lingered in the air, refusing to dissipate fully, and it gnawed at him. Forgiveness. It was a dangerous word, far too slippery, too prone to let things slip through cracks where they did not belong. He had always believed that once you started making exceptions, your control began to erode, piece by piece. People, when forgiven, saw weakness. They mistook clemency for permission, and Jeremiah had no room in his life for that kind of error. Not now. Not with Audrie. She had already stepped too far into his space, into his life, without understanding the boundaries that held his world together. He could not allow her to think this was a simple mistake to be forgotten. No, he needed to be sure she understood. Utterly understood. When he finally moved, it was sudden, decisive. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist with a firm, unyielding grip. Regardless of the young girl’s actions, Jeremiah's grasp held her fast. There was no room for negotiation in his touch, just the raw certainty of what needed to be done. He began to pull her toward the closet, his steps calm, measured, as though this was just another routine decision in his carefully structured life. Any detraction from that goal was made with swift reprimand, his other hand still holding the belt, and his willingness to use it to subdue any outbursts became harshly apparent to the poor soul in his care. There would be no tender mercies for Audrie. Without a word, he swung the door open, the dim light from the room casting long shadows into the space. A space remarkably larger than Audrie might have expected to find. "You need to calm down," he said, his voice low and steady, as though he were discussing a minor inconvenience rather than what he was about to do. And then he flicked on the light, and Audrie saw the potential horror of what was awaiting her. No wonder, no wonder her Uncle had been so upset that she had invaded his private space. Because that walk-in closet had been repurposed. Jeremiah Milton had a very well-appointed bondage room, and on the far wall stood their destination. A St. Andrew's Cross. ​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   Calm down, her ass. Audrie was anything but calm. There was a raging storm inside of her as she tried to break free from her uncle's unyielding grasp. Her butt burned like she'd just gotten up from sitting on coal and he was dragging her by her wounded shoulder. The pain was making it hard to think straight. "Please, stop," she pleaded from behind him. She tried to fight him, she really did, but Audrie was no match for him—or any grown man for that matter. For the first time in her life, she felt weak. And she'd even put in extra hours at the gym these past couple of months. "Please, Uncle Jerry." Her begging didn't just come in pleading words but also in whimpering sobs and painful cries. A startled gasp filled the room as he struck her with the belt to silence her. "Will you just listen!" she yelled at him, wincing at the pain in her shoulder as he dragged her through the door to his closet—the one that had been locked when she'd tried it a few hours earlier. Now, she'd wondered what was in there, and why it was locked. She had no idea what to expect, but it was not this. When her uncle turned the lights on, she could see that his closet was much bigger than she'd imagined, but that was not all. She hadn't expected him to drag her into his closet to make her put on one of his suits, but she sure as hell hadn't expected to see that inside his closet either. Her eyes went wide as she took in the sight in front of her. Audrie had no idea what it was, but she could guess what it was used for. And when she saw the straps dangling from every corner, she just knew he was going to strap her to it. "No, no, no, no, no, stop!" she pleaded, shaking her head violently as she tried to back out through the door instead of letting him drag her forward. Not that she got anywhere. He only pulled her closer and closer to that terrifying cross. Her stomach turned, and it was not because she was hungry. The thought of being strapped to that cross made her sick. Dizzy, even. It wasn't necessarily the thought of being strapped to something that scared her—in any other setting with any other man she might even have liked the idea—but rather. . . being strapped in that position. She would be spread out like a fucking starfish. Vulnerable. Exposed. Not to mention, at her uncle's disposal. "Please, don't, please!" Panic glistened in her tear-filled eyes as she fought him. But it was like fighting a mountain—completely useless. "No, stop!" Her body writhed against him as he lifted her arm to strap her wrist to the cross. Even with two strong shoulders and a butt that didn't burn, she wouldn't have been able to stop him. Audrie desperately tried to pull her arm down, the strap digging into her wrist. "Please don't do this," she sobbed, trying her best to prevent him from aligning her other wrist with the strap on the other side of the cross. "Please, please!" she begged, realization really starting to kick in as her body went limp with terror. Or maybe she was just exhausted. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I'll never do it again, I swear—just please. . . please, please please let me down." Her voice trembled with fear and anticipation. She tried to meet his gaze through her blurry vision. Her once pretty face was not so pretty anymore now that her eyes were red and swollen and her cheeks were covered in black tears.​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   Such absolute broken beauty. Jeremiah Milton dragged Audrie towards what very well might be her final resting place, the sound of her desperate pleas echoing in the small, confined walk-in closet. The sound of her tears burned with powerful vulnerability, with the depth of emotion it seemed to contain, a rawness that felt almost otherworldly, as if manifesting a universal truth that someone like Jeremiah could barely comprehend. His gaze, sharp and calculating as ever, softened mildly, appreciation of the sheer gorgeous artistry as Audrie gazed up at him with tear-stricken cheeks, the complexity of color bleeding into form as her makeup smeared against her pale skin. It was, without question, the most beautiful piece of artwork he had ever encountered. But it was not her beauty in the traditional sense that held him captivated. Jeremiah was not moved by simple genetic expression of aesthetics; those were details and ultimately hollow without something more. What drew him was the desperation accentuated in every fiber of Audrie’s being. As he slammed her hand against the wood, tightening the strap to keep her in place, their actions were a dance between control and surrender. And for a moment, just a moment, Audrie could see the unraveling of tightly wound layers that her Uncle kept sealed from the world. Yet he did not speak to her, not until the task at hand was accomplished. Nor did the begging provide relief from his cruelties, his hand slapping the young woman across the face, fazing her briefly so that he could continue his work unimpeded. And work it was, practiced and performed with a steady hand that underscored how often Jeremiah must have done such a deed. Up came her other arm, lashed properly, and when she began to inevitably try to kick him away from placing her ankles firmly against the cross, he batted her strikes aside like she was a weak ineffectual child. And in truth she was, at least to a grown man such as Jeremiah. It was simply the nature of the beast, a middle-aged man who had maintained his physique was hardly impeded by a young woman’s flailing limbs. Flesh felt the cruel bite of the leather straps, metal slid into place as he properly latched her, and he straightened to gaze at her once more, like a man enraptured. Oh, how terribly lovely she was. And for the first time he smiled. “Your apology is unnecessary, nor will it avail you of what is to come.” His hands smoothed his ruffled clothing. “I am going to hurt you, Audrie. And you might be asking yourself why, which is a relatively fair question. You might even think at this stage that it is meant to punish you, but we have moved past that. I want you to know that I am doing it only for myself. Taking my pound of flesh, so to speak. It will please me to hurt you, and I never would have done such a thing to you, not once would I have even remotely considered it. Until you invaded my privacy.” Jeremiah walked over to the door, his hand coming up to touch it, letting it swing close. The movement was precise, as though nothing in his world could ever be rushed. His calmness was unsettling in its intensity. The soft creak of the hinges broke the silence as he shut it with a smooth controlled motion, and he reached up to slide the deadbolt into position with a definitive click. Her Uncle had a lock on the inside of his closet. How often had he kept a woman locked in there with him? And now, with the door closed, it was as if he had closed off another part of his meticulously ordered life. The house restored to normal functioning, and Jeremiah’s breathing remained steady, his control unbroken. Milton turned to regard his niece, his eyes wide as if recognizing her for the first time and he spoke with a soft caress. “Paddle, flog, cane, or crop. Decide or I will decide for you.” “And you might not prefer if I did.” ​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   Audrie didn't stand a fucking chance against her Uncle. She tried to fight him with everything she had, but it wasn't enough. As soon as he secured the strap around one wrist, she was stuck. The second slap did little to stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. Only this time she had no palm to cool down the stinging pain. With only one hand free, Audrie didn't have the leverage to prevent him from fastening the strap around her other wrist. Not that she'd been able to stop him when both her hands had been free. Audrie was simply no match for her uncle, period. Her frail body writhed against the cross and against him as she tried to free herself from the straps, wincing at the pain that erupted when she pulled too hard. "Stop! Please, don't do this!" she pleaded. Her voice wavered but was still loud enough to fill the small room. She continued to fight against the restraints—against him. "Jeremiah, please! I'm sorry!" She rarely used his full name, but at this point, she was desperately trying to get his attention. He had to stop. Her t-shirt—his t-shirt—was still intact, but with her arms raised and spread, the fabric didn't cover as much as it used to. And when he secured the straps around her ankles too, spreading her legs despite her panicked kicks, she felt more exposed as she did in a bikini. No matter how hard she tried, her legs would not close. Even her knees refused to budge. Panic and fear clouded her mind as she tugged at the straps as if she somehow had the strength to get out of them if only she pulled hard enough. They both knew it was a lost cause. "Please, don't do this!" she begged again, her voice cracking at the end. Then her uncle finally spoke. And her body stilled. Audrie just stared at him, eyes widening with terror as her mind grasped the words he was saying. I am going to hurt you, Audrie. She continued to stare—to listen—while the little color she had left drained from her already pale face. I want you to know that I am doing it only for myself. Her uncle didn't make any sense. What exactly was he saying? That he was going to hurt her. . . because he wanted to? No. This had to be some sort of punishment. It had to. For throwing a party at his residence without permission. For invading his privacy. For going through his sex toys. It will please me to hurt you. She could feel her stomach twisting and turning, but her body remained still as she listened to his speech. Until you invaded my privacy. There it was. The reason for this punishment he claimed wasn't a punishment. "I'm sorry," she said when he turned his back on her, her voice calmer this time. Vulnerable. "I'm so so sorry." But then she heard him turn the lock and a cold shiver ran down her spine. "What are you doing?" she asked out loud, her tone no longer pleading but concerned and demanding. Why would he need to lock the door? Why did he even have a lock inside his walk-in closet? Confusion spread across her face as he spoke again, his words foreign to her ears. Paddle, flog, cane, crop. Audrie had no idea what those words meant. What exactly was she deciding? "I have no idea what you're talking about," she admitted. "Paddle?" It sounded more like a question than a decision. "No, cane. . . Wait—I don't know!" she exclaimed. How was she supposed to decide when she had no clue what her options were? She tugged at the straps holding her wrists again, trying to break free. "Please, just let me down!" she begged, her eyes watering again. Something bad was about to happen and she didn't want any part in it. Because whatever he was planning—whatever he was making her choose—it couldn't possibly be something good. ​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   Jeremiah’s brow furrowed slightly, a faint crease appearing between his eyes as he tilted his head, studying her as if she were an unfamiliar puzzle. His gaze narrowed, drifting over her face, and lingering on her eyes, as if trying to decide if her rambling attempts at pleas made any coherent sense to him. His shoulders remained perfectly still, his posture upright but with a subtle lean forward, as though drawn closer by sheer curiosity. Was it truly puzzling to his alien mind as to why she was so desperately trying to curtail what was occurring or was it simply that he found the outburst of emotion to be so downright pitiable that he simply did not understand it. Her Uncle had always been the strangest sort of duck, unusual in every sense of the word, but even more so now as he seemed to inhabit a completely different space entirely. Whomever the man was that she had known her entire life, he had disappeared in the space of an instant, or in truth had never existed at all. A brief flicker crossed his eyes, his mouth moving into a thin line, and he blinked slowly, his expression shifting towards a decision. But what came out of his mouth was truly deflating, because her Uncle had not been trying to ascertain anything whatsoever about her and had been coming to a decision in lieu of Audrie’s inability to do so. “Clamps.” With the answer having been given fruition Jeremiah turned and crossed the small space of the closet to one of the shelves, idly opening a well-kept wooden box in which he began to sort through. The man had muttered clamps; how many were within? Finally, he made an approving noise as he settled upon a set, raising them up so that they glittered in the dim light. Strangely they were not just utilitarian, but beautiful, a dark metallic steel grey with three refined chains of the same material connecting the two. There was no plastic, no change in the metal to soften the clamp itself. These clamps would be painful. No discussion was given as he returned to her, seeing her struggling to no avail, and Milton took charge of the situation with the aplomb of a man resolved to his course of action. What more was there to say, to do, at this stage? Her Uncle was going to have his way, and it began to moment his right hand came out to press flat against her chest and he forcibly held her back flush against the wood behind her. The hand holding the clamps came up under the shirt, sliding along and dragging the material with him until it bared her right breast. Such a perfect little bosom little Audrie had, but Jeremiah’s eyes were locked on her face as the clamp bit into the skin of her nipple. First one, and then dragging the tip of the other leisurely across the expanse between her breasts before placing the second. He let go, letting the metal hang, the triple chains heavier than anticipated, adding some weight to tug on her areolas. His head tilted, watching the reaction across her lovely face, before hooking one finger through the chains and giving a slow determined pull. Raising it up and away from her torso as he whispered. “Would you like to kiss me, Audrie,” he asked curiously. “I’ve had women before who needed it. It comforted them to feel my lips. It helped them think I cared. I can do that if you need it too.” ​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   What did he mean, clamps? Her eyes widened slightly, newfound panic glistening in the dim light. That hadn't been an option. Audrie watched him go through the contents of a wooden box, and although she couldn't really see its contents, Audrie knew what was hidden in it. She might not have been familiar with the other options he had provided her, but she knew what clamps were. She also knew where they went and what they were meant to do—hurt. And Audrie did not want to experience more pain. "Please," she whispered as he approached her again. Her eyes studied the chains dangling from his fingers and the metal clamps on each end. The closer he came, the harder she tugged at the straps securing her wrists. "Please don't." She did not want those clamps anywhere near her nipples. Tears threatened to surface again as her body writhed against the cross, getting nowhere. "Jeremiah, sto—" A panicked whimper slipped past her lips when he pressed her back against the wood. It wasn't like she was getting anywhere without the additional weight holding her in place, but now she felt utterly defenseless. As soon as he started pulling up her shirt, her body writhed against him once more. "No, no, no, stop!" Her voice was loud and desperate, but so close to its breaking point. But despite her pleas, Audrie couldn't stop her Uncle from dragging the fabric all the way up. She couldn't stop him from exposing her small, perky breast—or her cute panties. The clamp was so close, but she couldn't wiggle herself out of this. No matter how much she wanted to and how hard she fought, she couldn't escape the metal. "Please, don't. No, stop, please don't—" A painful cry cut through the air as the metal pinched her already hard nipple. A distorted grimace spread across her face as she hissed at the sharp pain. She'd expected it to hurt, but not like this. The piercing pain was unlike any pain she'd ever experienced. "No, please!" Wincing through clenched teeth, she barely had time to prepare for the next clamp. It hurt just as much as the first if not more now that the pain erupted from both nipples. It was almost too much for her frail body to handle. Audrie almost choked on the air around her when he let go of the chain, allowing the weight of it to tug her nipples. Who would have thought that three slim chains could be so fucking heavy? The poor girl barely had time to comprehend what he was about to do as he hooked a finger around the chain and pulled. Audrie didn't have time to prepare herself or beg him not to do it before it happened. Agonized sounds escaped her lips as a new wave of pain surged through her body. She couldn't stop the tears from falling anymore. Her body trembled with pain and desperation. Fear and panic reflected in her watery eyes and on her painful expression. The restraints around her wrists prevented her from following the tug of the chain like she wanted to, causing her nipples to blossom in pain. Ripples of pain coursed through her body as he pulled the chain further away from her chest. "Oh God," she sobbed, attempting to withstand the torment her uncle was putting her through. The moment he asked if she wanted him to kiss her she shook her head violently—not that it made her nipples hurt any less. "No," she said loudly, her voice shaky. She did not want his lips anywhere near her lips. "Please just stop. . . it hurts." Another heart-wrenching sob escaped her lips, before she added, "so bad." His lips wouldn't help at all. If anything, it would make it worse. Why would Audrie want to kiss her Uncle under any circumstances? She didn't need a kiss. What she needed was for him to stop hurting her—sooner rather than later.​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   Jeremiah’s eyebrow arched subtly, a glimmer of dry amusement flickering in his eyes as he watched her response unfold. the faintest hint of a smirk, a sharp, controlled expression that barely touched his face, as if her reaction were a particularly amusing line in a book he had no intention of finishing. There was also a small measure of disdain as he tilted his head, studying her from a new angle, as though she might appear differently with a slight shift in perspective. Milton leaned close to the young woman, his hand coming up to braced against the wood of the St. Andrew’s cross and his fingers began to drum a slow, thoughtful rhythm, a restrained gesture of curiosity. His gaze traveled over her, taking in each frantic motion, each exaggerated expression, with the detached intrigue of an observer dissecting a lab specimen. A glint of analytical interest growing in his eyes, sharp and piercing, as if he were filing away each detail for later use. And maybe he was, maybe her Uncle had done this sort of thing numerous times, the kind of action only the truly insane could ever indulge in. A Sociopath, though he had never been diagnosed as one and might not quite qualify for the designation. Yet, the absurdity of her display barely registered on his face; instead, he regarded her with a cool, distant fascination, as if Audrie were an anomaly he was almost tempted to understand. And yet the artistry of her suffering was enough to keep his interest. His other hand remained near those chains, giving a small brush with the tips as if he intended to tug once more to elicit further reaction, but there was no need. The mere act was one designed to encourage panic. The desperation in her pleading seemed to do little other than to amuse the older man, and with calm deliberation his fingers took hold of Audrie’s chin, forcing her to hold still as he provided that rather unwanted kiss. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing to signal his control, and when his lips met hers where were deliberate, exacting. Devoid of passion, yet undeniably commanding. It was a calculated power play, abusive and clinical, and far less an act of intimacy than it was an assertion of his dominance. And strangely unsettling in how good her Uncle was in the act, even lacking the rapport most would have wished. The kiss broke and he smiled once more. “It hurts,” he mimicked in query. “But, surely better now. Isn’t that what they say about kisses?” His eyes grew thoughtful as his fingers continued to drum their beat upon the wood, and with another decision made he moved back to his shelf, idly perusing the small containers before picking another. This he came over to sit down on the floor in front of Audrie, going down on one knee as he did so, and to the young girl’s horror the next stage of what he intended was revealed. A box of nothing but wooden clothespins. What in God’s name did he intend to do with such a thing? Perhaps to a naïve mind such as his nieces there would be confusion, but any ardent practitioner of BDSM understood the purpose behind his acquisition. Jeremiah reached to tug Audrie’s cute little panties to the side, baring her to his sight, and there was the smallest approving noise at the sight. A tiny laugh exited his throat as one finger brushed across her labia. “Lovely Audrie, it seems as if part of you, at least, enjoys this as much as I do.” And it was not long before, despite whatever protestations his niece shouted to the skies, Jeremiah began to affix clothespins to the lips of her sweet slit. At first there was an immediate, sharp pinch as the narrow wooden jaws dug into her flesh, but the pain was small, intense and gone in a moment. What was left afterwards was pressure that settled into a persistent, throbbing ache. The skin feeling compressed and hot, as all the blood rushed to the surface beneath the clamp, trapped by the relentless squeeze. The wood was rough against the skin, a friction of discomfort that radiated the pain in pulses, making the surrounding nerves hypersensitive. One clothespin, two, and soon enough three along each side of Audrie’s perfect little pussy. ​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   Audrie should have known her uncle wouldn't give two flying fucks about her misery—he relished in it. He would not release her anytime soon despite her pleading. He was enjoying himself way too much to show her mercy. And Audrie was too weak to break free from the restraints. She was stuck there—arms and legs spread wide—until her uncle decided she had suffered enough. God knew when that would be. If it was up to Audrie, she'd had enough already. But her uncle seemed to have a different opinion on the matter. Not that they'd ever seen eye to eye on anything. Perhaps it was no longer about her suffering but about her uncle's pleasure. Because he was enjoying this—the evidence was written all over his fucking face. Audrie would never be able to look at him like she used to. His smug expression would probably haunt her dreams forever. He didn't need to tug the chain to draw a reaction out of her; her nipples were already on fire. And the fear of experiencing the agonizing pain again was enough to make her body panic. Audrie was just waiting for him to pull that goddamn thing, and the anticipation was killing her. He locked her head in place, his fingers pressing into her chin. He was going to kiss her despite her telling him no. But her uncle hadn't seemed to care about her consent earlier, so why would he care about it now? Her eyes glistened with panic and fear as his face came closer and closer. "Please," she whispered before his lips collided with hers. Sparks ignited in her core as his lips took ownership of hers, showing her who was in charge. He was. Even if all of her limbs had been free, he'd still overpower her. She didn't want to enjoy the kiss—some parts of her didn't—but her body responded as if he was a former lover. As if she had longed for his lips for a long time when she'd never longed for them at all. Perhaps he had that effect on all the women he'd kissed, his dominance enthralling them. Her body succumbed to his touch, her core tingling with unwanted arousal. When he pulled back, an abrupt wave of disappointment washed over her. What had he done to her? Blood rushed to her cheeks as she glared at her uncle in disbelief. She tried to convince herself the kiss had been awful, but deep down she knew that wasn't true. Thankfully, the disappointment didn't last long. The moment he mocked her, anger rushed to the surface and she narrowed her gaze. "Fuck you," she spat. It had been better, but now the feeling was long gone. Only the pain remained. The fear. Audrie tugged at the restraints again, groaning in frustration when they wouldn't budge—not that she'd expected them to. Relief flashed in her eyes when he turned his back to her again, only to be replaced with pure horror when he crouched down in front of her. Her eyes landed on the box, or rather the clothespins inside of it. "What are—" she started to ask, but then she realized what he was about to do and she panicked. "Stop!" she called out, frantically tugging at her restraints in an attempt to close her legs. No matter how hard she tried, her legs would not close and his fingers pulled her panties to the side. Tears welled up behind her eyes again. She felt his finger brush against her pussy and a heartfelt whimper escaped her lips, "Please." Her eyes watered as she looked down at him. At this point, there was more mascara around her eyes than on her eyelashes. She did not enjoy this. Nor did she enjoy what he did next. The pain that radiated from her pussy when he attached the clothespin to it was unlike any she'd ever experienced. "Oh my God, please!" she begged, squirming as much as the restraints allowed her. "Take it off!" she sobbed, trying to break free from the cross. She watched him pick up another pin, teary eyes widening as she realized the pain was about to get worse. "No, no, no, not another, please!" But her words didn't stop him, his hand reaching out to add another pin to her pussy. Neither did her sobs, whimpers, or pleas. By the time he attached the last clothespin to the collection, the agony was almost unbearable. Her pussy throbbed—burned—and if it wasn't for the cross, she probably wouldn't be standing up straight. Audrie tried to break free from the cross, her wrists aching from the tugging. "Please, please, please, just take them off!" she sobbed. Her body was trembling, but whether it was due to pain, cold, or fear was hard to say. A combination perhaps. "Jeremiah, please!" The way she begged him made it sound like he was punishing her for something far more severe than borrowing his pool without asking. Her uncle had gone too far this time. She would never forgive him—never forget. ​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   Jeremiah blinked, slowly, as if processing the words required more time than usual. His head tilted just, the movement deliberate, like an owl studying prey from an unfamiliar angle. For a moment, he said nothing, his dark eyes narrowing as they settled on her, unblinking. The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smirk, not quite annoyance, but something closer to curiosity, as though her defiance were an unexpected data point in an otherwise predictable equation. It was one thing to have seen her beg, and of course the begging soon continued as he plied his chosen hobby, but he had not anticipated her ill-mannered retort and antagonistic behavior. "Interesting," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice calm, devoid of the anger she might have expected. His gaze lingered on her, tracing her expression, the way the words seemed to hang in the air between them like a challenge she did not fully understand. His fingers tapped lightly against his thigh, the only outward sign of the thoughts ticking behind his composed exterior. Did she genuinely want to encourage more cruelty from his hands? "After everything," he said finally, his tone almost clinical, as though he were dissecting the very concept of her response. "That is the direction you choose to go." There was no venom in his words, only quiet intrigue, as though he found the act more fascinating than insulting. His eyes gleamed with something unreadable, a sharp, analytical light that turned her rebellion into a subject of study rather than a source of offense. Jeremiah leaned forward slightly, his presence menacing, his voice weighted. "Tell me, Audrie," his lips curved faintly, the barest hint of amusement in the edges of his expression. "Do you think that was wise?" Of course, what came next ensured that the young lady recognized that she lacked in the department of common sense. His eyes, dark and unrelenting, pinned Audrie where she stood, their intensity making the small space around her feel even smaller. "Perhaps I should let you go," he mused, his tone light, almost conversational, as though he were entertaining a whimsical idea. He tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful, but there was a glint of mockery in his eyes. "It would be a decent thing to do, wouldn’t it? To release you, to open the door, step aside, and let you walk away, no worse for wear. Well, relatively. Given a second chance. Doesn’t that sound fair to you?" "But then again," he continued, his voice softening to something almost intimate, almost conspiratorial. "What would you do with that freedom? Run off to tell someone, maybe? Or pretend you could forget any of this happened, only to let it eat away at you, bit by bit, until you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror?" He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, as if savoring the effect of each syllable. He chuckled softly, the sound low and cold, shaking his head. "No, Audrie. I don’t think letting you go would do either of us any favors. You see, freedom isn’t as simple as you think it is. Sometimes, it’s a heavier burden than you’re prepared to carry." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And I don’t think you’re ready for that weight." Jeremiah’s face was mere inches from hers as he looked into her lovely eyes as one hand came down between her thighs, pressing so that his fingers began to rub her clitoris. Her rather hardened and aroused clitoris, through no fault of her own of course. It was simply the nature of all the heated blood rushing to the area being tortured. His eyebrows rose as he watched her face. “Or you can give in. Let yourself feel pleasure. It will be so much better than the pain. You can tell yourself you have no choice, it's all right. If it makes you feel less guilty.” ​

 

[reverie.]

..

audrie andrews. ʙ ᴇ ɪ ɴ ɢ  ɢ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ  ᴅ ᴏ ᴇ ꜱ ɴ ' ᴛ  ɢ ᴇ ᴛ  ʏ ᴏ ᴜ  ᴀ ɴ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ɢ .   niece    //    22    //    waitress   No. It had not been wise. But it was too late to take the words back, and Audrie had no plans to apologize for them either. He'd deserved it. She'd probably repeated the words too if it wasn't for the fact that she was still strapped to the cross and he held all the power. Audrie was already squirming in pain, and she doubted another fuck you would make him release her out of the goodwill of his heart. Instead, she blinked up at him, the back of her head resting against the wood. His eyes were dark; hers were blank with unshed tears. "No," she muttered eventually, agreeing with him. It had not been wise. And then he said something that made her eyes flicker with hope. The thought of being released—of being free from the misery he'd put her in—almost made her thank him right there and then. But as she parted her lips to plead, she saw the mockery in his eyes. Her stomach twisted as she held back the two words she was dying to say to him. It would be a decent thing to do, indeed. He should let her go. She didn't deserve any of this; no one did. As he came to the end of his little speech, she couldn't keep quiet any longer. "A second chance?" she shot back at him in disbelief. If anyone needed a second chance, it was him. And Audrie would not give him one. Not in this lifetime at least. "There are—" She drew in a sharp breath, "Clothespins on my fucking pussy." Clothespins that were causing her more pain than she was willing to show him. Clothespins he had attached to her. And he wanted to talk about what was fair. Fucking asshole. She wondered how much trouble she'd be in if he could read her mind. Or perhaps her expression gave it away. She let out a frustrated grown in the middle of his new speech. "I won't tell anyone!" They'd already been over this. She wouldn't tell a soul, but she would never forget. Never forgive. Audrie prayed he would conclude to let her go, but the more he talked, the more she realized that was not going to happen. The fear in her eyes grew with every word he said and eventually, a new tear rolled down her already stained cheek. He was not letting her go. "Jeremiah, please." Her voice was barely audible as she blinked away tears to clear her vision. "You've already—" Her entire expression changed in a split second. Shock and disbelief—panic—was now written all over her face. The faintest moan escaped her lips right before she clenched her jaw, grimacing at the pleasure he was forcing her to experience. Her legs trembled as she held his gaze, her eyes wide and full of tears. It felt both good and bad at the same time; she wanted it to end but also never cease. Before she could stop herself, she pushed her pelvis forward in an attempt to make it feel even better. Her body wanted this; her mind did not. "Please, stop," she whispered, her body writhing against the cross. Grimacing once more, Audrie tried to hold back another moan, "I don't want this." He might have believed her too. . . if it weren't for the fact that she was grinding against his hand. ​

 

[Father Figure]

..

jeremiah milton. ᴘ ᴏ ᴡ ᴇ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ɴ ɢ ꜱ  ᴛ ᴏ  ᴛ ʜ ᴏ ꜱ ᴇ  ᴡ ʜ ᴏ  ᴛ ᴀ ᴋ ᴇ  ɪ ᴛ .   uncle    //    46    //    investor   “Nobody wants this, slut.” Jeremiah’s head tilted every so slightly as the young woman spoke, her tone betraying a flicker of excitement, an emotion for her that was unwarranted and unwanted. His gaze sharpened, narrowing on her face like a scalpel drawn to a single, delicate point. Oh, how delightful, the act of making another human being feel something against their will. The grinding of her lovely cunt against his fingers was testament to the fact that her body was betraying her, but it was underscored with the delightful mechanic of her hate. Her despising the response. It was as if a door had opened somewhere in her that she had not intended to reveal, something brought to the surface through his actions that she would always remember. From this day to her dying day. “Hmm.” The sound was soft, almost dismissive, but his expression betrayed a flicker of curiosity. His dark eyes lingered on her, dissecting the unguarded moment with clinical precision. The finger pad of his fingertip stopped, perfectly poised as his eyes studied her face, lovelier now in the tableau of suffering and arousal than it ever had been. Giving her the same appraisal he might give a piece of artwork or a complex deal. “Nobody wants it, but they always like it,” he said, his tone almost detached, yet tinged with a hint of his own appreciation. His lips curved into the faintest smile, though it lacked warmth. “Interesting,” he murmured, the word hanging in the air like an unfinished thought. His gaze flicked briefly downward to the abused flesh of her hot little slit before returning to her face, his attention sharp and relentless. “Of all things, that’s what gets you off? A little pain?” His tone was calm, almost thoughtful, but there was a smug satisfaction to his words, as though he were testing them for her reaction, like a cat toying with prey. His eyes glittered, a predator’s gaze. “Tell me,” he said, his voice coaxing. “What is it you find so…compelling?” The hand below adjusted its activities, moving to grip one of the clothespins and he began to tug. Inexorably he pulled, the wooden teeth dragging along her labia, stretching it taut as he applied the pressure until with finality it popped off. Freeing her from at least one of the torturous accessories achingly clamped into her sex. His eyebrow rose, he knew exactly what he was doing, and he seemed to expectantly await her reaction as he took hold of a second one and began again. The pressure was unrelenting, the biting ache radiating from the spot where the clothespin had attached to the skin. Every nerve in the area seemed to thrum with heightened sensitivity, the wooden jaws pressing deeper with every moment it stayed in place. As Jeremiah’s fingers curled around the clothespin the anticipation of its removal was almost worse than the pain itself. There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, before the tug. The sensation was immediate, the wooden edges scraping against the tender skin, flesh seeming to protest and throb as though it had molded itself to the pressure, unwilling to let go. The tension grew, a crescendo of pain that made the inevitable release both welcome and dreadful. Then, it snapped free, with a swift almost violent pop. A sudden rush of relief, coupled with a searing sting as blood surged back into the pinched area. The skin was raw, exposed, a pulsing ache lingering as the imprint of the clothespin’s bite remained, an angry red mark in her the folds of her cunt. And her Uncle, that bastard, merely smiled as he whispered. “What could you offer me that would convince me to let you go, other than the pain you feel right now?” ​