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

[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   If nobody wanted this. . . how come her body was so desperate for his touch? How come her hips moved in sync with his fingers when all she wanted was to stay still? Audrie was not supposed to enjoy this—she convinced herself she didn't—but her body hungrily devoured the small amount of pleasure he fed to her. It even longed for more. His niece was trying so hard to hold back the whimpers her body wanted her to express, but she could not stop them all. Perhaps it was the pleasure, perhaps it was the pain; whatever it was, it made her vocal cords sing. And she hated every sound she made. Her moans weren't loud by any means, but they indicated that she liked this when she clearly didn't. How come it was so fucking difficult to keep her mouth shut? Why couldn't she be screaming in pain instead? At least then she wouldn't be so embarrassed. But despite how much she wanted to hate this, disappointment washed over her when his fingers stopped moving. It was right before she opened her mouth to beg him to continue when the pain she'd suppressed started to overwhelm her again, bringing her back to reality. "I don't like it," she gritted out, sounding almost out of breath. Now that she didn't have any pleasure to distract her, the pain from the clamps and the clothespins was almost unbearable. And his smug face and calm voice certainly didn't make it any better. "Are you even listening to me?" she said, her voice getting louder. "I don't—ahnngh!" For some reason she didn't quite understand, the removal of the clothespin hurt more than it just hanging there. Wincing at the pain and squirming against the cross, Audrie tried to adjust to the new, sharp pain radiating from her pussy, but when he started pulling another pin, it became too much. "No, stop!" she cried, panting as she looked at him. "Please just stop." Of course, her uncle did no such thing. He just slowed down, prolonging her suffering. She knew the pain would come the moment the pin was released from her flesh, but it was nothing she could prepare herself for. The pain that followed the last pop was so intense she thrashed against the restraints holding her in place. "Please!" she begged, her breathing shallow and her eyes glistening with new tears. "Just take them off!" She was swimming in a sea of pain when he offered her a way out, her ears barely registering his words. What exactly was he saying? What could she offer him? She grimaced as she tried to come up with something clever, but the pain was making her foggy. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice bordering panicking. "What do you want? I've already told you I won't tell a soul, and that I'm not gonna do it again. So, what more do you want? I'm bound—" She rattled her wrists to prove her point, "To a fucking cross. You've—" She had to pause to draw in a sharp breath before she continued, but she didn't need to speak the words for him to understand what she was referring to. "Please, tell me. What more could you possibly want from me, Jeremiah?" Forcing herself to calm her limbs, she blinked away a few tears. Perhaps she had to change her strategy, offering something he had to refuse. "Do you want to fuck me? Is that it? Hm?" Her voice was calmer now, more deadly. "What's stopping you? Me?" The hatred in her eyes was real, but so was the fear. "Go on then," she taunted him, not really believing he would do such a thing. She was his niece, after all. And he'd already seen—touched—parts of her he shouldn't have. "If you want to fuck me, fuck me. Go on, Uncle. Show your niece how you like to fuck." The way she said it was as much of a warning as it was a challenge. There was no way he was going to take her up on the offer; he wasn't that fucking stupid. He might have slapped her, spanked her, masturbated her, but. . . He wouldn't stick his dick in her. Just the thought of his dick being anywhere near her made her shiver. Jeremiah had already crossed a lot of lines, but this was a line she knew he wouldn't cross. And that was exactly why she was rubbing it in his face. ​

 

[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   That alien gaze merely gazed at her implacably as Audrie began her rather heavy-handed attempt at manipulating the situation she regrettably found herself in. It was the kind of steady, unwavering, and almost contemptuous look that Jeremiah might have given a child who was crying about how unfair life was. It might have been a relief if the man before her was merely cruel for his own pleasure, like so many bastards that existed in this world, but Jeremiah’s cruelty was born from a different drive. A drive to feel, a drive to understand, a drive to comprehend the myriad complexities of sexuality. It was not the mere physical act of intercourse that provided relief to the man, but watching his victims squirm like butterflies impaled upon a needle, which gave him a modicum of satisfaction. And as the turn of her language moved from pleas for compassion to encouragement to indulge in carnal lust, Jeremiah’s features grew speculative. There was only one true reason that Audrie would pursue this line of thinking, and it was with the hope that once her captor was sated, she would be released from her torment. Her uncle could not fault her for such a strategy, and while it might have worked on a lesser man who would have given into such proclivities, Jeremiah’s lips merely pressed together in a musing expression before he responded to her entreaty. “Not as of yet, I would think you would wish to contemplate such a decision. After all, this is of grave importance don’t you agree?” His hand gave her cunt a little pat, admiring the sensation of how wet his niece had become through the torture and tribulations she had endured under his not so tender mercies. The very idea that she was not capable of understanding quite yet how far he was willing to go was something that made him wonder if she had properly been paying attention. Though, in truth most victims did not have the wherewithal to indulge in thinking about the future. So wrapped up in the moment, so patently fixated on the present, they could not comprehend the enormity of what the situation entailed. There were limited possibilities that could lead to him continuing his life with unabated interference and perhaps the young woman might find her way to grasping that if he gave her time enough to consider the options available to him. “Audrie, I am going to text your parents to let them know you and your friends had a party here. Not that you did so without my permission, but that you asked for it and I granted it. They will not question this,” he said with absolute certainty on the subject matter. “Why would they when everyone understands who and what I am, and they all grasp I would never harm a single hair in your head.” As he spoke, he turned, idly considering the plethora of boxes to choose from, and after a moment he gave a small nod of approval and opening one he fished out a small black case and opened it. Within was a small pink toy in the shape of a U, one end bulbous and the other rigid and slender. It would take only the most naïve soul to fail to recognize a vibrator and clitoral stimulator, and neither of them qualified in that regard. Stepping back, he held it before her eyes, turning it before pressing the button, the buzz of the device highlighting its intensity. And then her Uncle, the very man she had just challenged to fuck her, placed it against her over sensitized labia. Holding it there he let her feel the almost horrid pain in her already ravaged nerves, and then with no further ado he pushed it inside of the young woman. A remarkably easy action considering how naturally lubricated she already was. It slotted in perfectly, pushing until that pliable U shape conformed to her slit, the other end snug against her clitoris and he raised his eyebrows at her. And then he began to leave her, his voice trailing behind him. “Think about it. I’ll come back later. And Audrie, if that toy slides out and onto the floor by the time I return…,” he did not elucidate the thought. It was plain enough what might occur, and Audrie’s imagination would do an adequate job of conveying the thought. And then the light went off, and the door shut, and lovely little Audrie was left all alone with the muffled sound of the toy inside of her as her only companion. ​