You asked for it

She's crying right now. It's soft, and barely perceptible, but you can hear it. At first you weren't sure, having fallen asleep after an exhausting evening and then having been disturbed by the noise. She probably thought you were still asleep.

“Are you all right?” You mumble shakily through a yawn. You don't know what hour it is, but it's still dark outside. At the sound of your voice, the quiet sobbing suddenly stops.

After a moment, she answers you. “I'm fine. Sorry if I woke you up.” She sounds calm and collected. You doubt she's slept much.

Well, since you're awake you may as well cuddle. You reach your arm across the bed and begin to scoot closer to her. It seems natural. That's what you've always done fore anybody who's crying, human or pony. You hug them. It also doesn't hurt that in your sleep hazed mind you want to feel the warmth of her flesh against your own. “It's all right.” you say.

As your arm wraps around her midsection and you pull her close, you realize it's not all right. She stops breathing when you touch her, and her body is rigid. It feels like she's shaking against you, like she is terrified of something.

You fully awaken from your stupor as your concern builds. She makes no effort to fight you, but it feels as though she's frozen up. Unsure of what to do, you let her go and back away. She seems to relax a little, and her breathing returns as you let her go. You have to know why. “What... what was that?”

Instead of answering you, she just begins to openly sob, loudly. Your concern turns into panic. What have you just done to make this mare cry like this? “Hey! It's okay. It's okay!” You try to comfort her and reach your hand to her shoulder again. This time she jerks away at your touch, neatly rolling out of bed and landing on her feet.

Her eyes are open wide, shining in the darkness as she turns her head left and right in a panic. You can see it on her face, she's terrified. Her sobbing has stopped now, and instead she stays alert. Like an animal searching the darkness for a predator. Her tears silently stream down her face until she takes a couple of deep breaths.

“It's just me, remember? It's okay...” You have no idea what to do for the poor mare. Obviously she didn't want to be touched, so you decide to stay where you are in order to give her some space.

At the sound of your voice, you see her begin to relax. She blinks some tears away and lifts a hoof to wipe the wetness off her face. She takes a few more deep breaths, and then lowers her head to the bed in a defeated posture. “I'm sorry...” Is all she says.

You can tell she's ashamed of her panic attack, and you want to comfort her. She looks so lonely right now, and you're so close. The best you can do is reassure her. “Hey. It's okay.”

She blinks and just looks sad for a moment before she responds. “If you don't want to pay me, I'll understand.”

You struggle for words for a second before you figure out how to respond. “I had an amazing time last night. You were worth every bit. You're still getting payed.”

You see her let out a held breath in relief. “Thank you.”

A smile forms on your face when you respond. “You don't have to thank me. This is a business transaction after all.” A fleeting grin graces her face, and you feel a little better. You both stay quiet for a moment while she lays stands there, resting her chin on the bed.

You've found that her face is interesting. She's oddly expressive, but she doesn't always express emotions the right way. You figure it's probably due to her blindness. Being unable to see probably means she never saw other ponies make expressions, so she had to figure them out herself. Most of the time her face is relaxed, and she appears calm. During her panic attack, her face had showed signs of terror, her unseeing eyes wide open and her head quickly turning as her jaw was tightly closed.

Happiness is brief on her face, flashing for just a moment and then she is back to her calm normal state. While you had a hard time reading her face, her feelings were expressed clearly through her voice. It was odd how so much emotion could be conveyed through pitch and tone, it seemed as though she tried extra hard for others to know how she was feeling. It was a shame she didn't talk much.

“Hey, if you're feeling better do you want to get back in bed?”

“If it's all the same, I'd like to stay like this for a while.” She sounds tired.

“Oh...” Is all you can say.

It must have sounded like you were hurt from her response, as her ears perked up and she climbed into the bed, snuggling close to you. “Sorry. I forget myself sometimes.” She sounds sad, but she presses her back against your chest, and you can feel her down the length of your body. She is warm and soft, and you blush for a moment remembering last night's debauchery.

You feel a nagging voice in the back of your head, telling you that she's clearly uncomfortable with the situation, and sigh as you back away from her comforting presence. You awkwardly lay there for a while watching the back of her head, but keeping a reasonable amount of space between the two of you.

“So... what just happened there?” Maybe it was a little too direct, but you were never exactly tactful. Now that she had calmed down, you might be able to talk this out.

“'I'd rather not talk about it.” She shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

You were beginning to get an idea of what was going on. Ponies were always weirded out when they met you. You were different, ugly to them. You had sharp teeth and looked like some kind of huge shaven and misshapen monkey. She must think you're some kind of monster. “It's okay, I'm not going to eat you or anything.” You had thought that maybe she was different, but you had been ignoring the signs. Clearly you make her uncomfortable.

She doesn't respond for a moment, and then rolls over so that she's facing you. Her eyes are squinting, as if she's thinking hard about something. It must be something serious. Eventually she speaks. “What? Why the heck would I think you were going to eat me?”

The confusion in her voice is mirrored in your mind. “Well, I mean... Uhh... Usually ponies... I mean...” You stumble over your words for a moment. “What I meant was, that usually ponies think I'm some kind of predator at first, and they are kind of nervous around me. Like you seem to be.” You're embarrassed at your confession. It just kind of comes tumbling out.

Her concern fades away to her calm face. “Oh. No. That's not the problem.”

“Well, then what is?"

She stays silent, and you start to get frustrated. This is stupid, she's just a whore, you shouldn't care about what she thinks about you. You tell yourself that it's a simple business transaction. You roll over to face away from her, not wanting to look at her at the moment.

After a second or two you feel a hoof on your back, and hear her scoot closer, feeling her warmth again. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just... I just don't like being touched.” She wraps an arm (Leg? What do you call their forelegs again?) over you and pulls herself tightly into you.

It's your turn to be confused. “What? How can you not like being touched?” While that clarifies some of the things you've seen, why would a mare torture herself like that?

“I have a hard time talking about it.” She holds you tightly and speaks quietly into the back of your ear. You stay quiet and try to process what she's saying.

She doesn't like to be touched, but she's a whore. Now all the weird responses you'd get when you put your hand on her made sense. It was uncomfortable for her. But why? And how did she function? You guess that might be the reason for her dire state when you approached her. You have a bunch of questions, but hold your tongue. She seems to sense your confusion.

“It's not touching. It's being touched. They're two separate things. It's why I can hold you like this just fine, but when you put you're hand on me I panic.” Well that made more sense you suppose. “It's also not bad if you warn me.”

Now you kinda feel like a dick. All those times you unwittingly surprised her. She can't see, you numbskull. She doesn't know you're going to touch her unless you tell her. “Oh. I'm sorry.” You feel sheepish.

“It's fine. I never told you.” She sighs and then mutters. “I've never told anyone.”

You let her hold you for a while, enjoying her presence. All the while thinking about her, and what could have caused her to be like this.

“Hey, can I turn around and hold you, too?” You wonder if being held is still comforting for her, or if it's unpleasant.

“Sure...” She says.

You roll over slowly, and work your arm under her body, putting your other arm on top of her. She doesn't tense up. As you pull her into you, she relaxes in your grasp and nuzzles her head into your shoulder. You can tell that she likes this.

She quietly speaks into you, pressing herself against your body as you hold her. She sounds amused. “Usually I'm fucking somepony when I'm like this with them.”

“We already did that. How about we just stay like this a while instead?” You smile as you speak.

“Yeah. That sounds nice. I like that.” You can hear the happiness in her voice as you hold each other in the night.

It's been hours, you're not sure how many. It's still dark outside. She seems to have fallen asleep in your arms, but you just don't feel tired anymore. Something about this is satisfying. The sex scratched an itch that had been bugging you for a while, and that had felt pretty damn good.

This was something else. This was satiating you on a different level. Right now you were feasting on something you hadn't even realized you were hungry for. Affection, love, you weren't sure what it was. But it felt good just being there, holding her.

Sometime during the night you had rolled onto your back, and brought her on top of you. She had stayed asleep, and now rests her head on your chest. Her warm body presses tightly on you and you gently stroke her back. She seems content right now as well. Maybe she was hungry too? You can't tell what was going through her head. She's a bit of a mystery really.

As you're pondering her, she slowly opens her eyes and yawns wide. Her cute little face looks nothing like the dirty whore you took to bed with you. Instead she looks adorable. You stop stroking her back for fear of aggravating her condition.

“It's okay. I liked that. Can you keep doing it?” She asks sweetly.

“Yeah. I can.” You rub your hand gently down her back, scratching it into her ful a little as you go.

“Ooh. That's nice.” She smiles and then leans forward and closes her eyes again, just relishing your touch. “It's not always an issue you know. Sometimes when I feel safe, it goes away for a little bit.”

You feel better about things when she tells you this. But you still have some questions, and she is awake. “Hey... so why do you... you know... do what you do?”

She smiles seductively, scooting forward towards your face. “You mean why am I a dirty whore?” You stop scratching her back as she inches further forward, almost touching your face. “You mean you're asking me why I am a cock sucking little pony who will let you put your cock anywhere in her body? A whore who will do anything for a few bits?”

You suddenly feel a intimidated by this little pony, and aren't sure you know what to say “Uh... I guess?”

She relaxes back down and rests her head next to yours so she can whisper in your ear. “I haven't told anypony my story before. Why should I tell you?”

You still aren't sure what to say, something about her demeanor has changed. She went from being a relaxed and content little pony to a very seductive female. “Maybe... It will help? Sometimes you need to talk about things to... help them?” You can hear the nervousness in your own voice. It's embarrassing.

“Maybe you're right then. Only one way to find out.” She licks just under your ear, and slowly draws a small trail of saliva to the center of your chest. Her tongue is warm and soft, but leaves a cool wet path on your skin.

You feel her shifting on top of you, repositioning for something. “But first I want you to scratch an itch for me. I'm afraid I can't reach it, and you have such long arms.” Her face is over yours now, her vacant eyes half lidded and her warm breath covering your face.

You put your hands on her back,and dig your fingers into her her fur again. She coos at you, “That's nice... but it's a little lower.” She smiles seductively, waiting for you to make your move.

Carefully, you keep scratching down her back towards her tail. All the while she grins salaciously at you. As your hands get closer you see her raise her tail, and she whispers down to you, “It's lower still. I think you'll know it when you find it.”

You didn't think there was anything left in you, but it seems the few hours of rest you've had have been enough for your body to recuperate a little. Her aggressive behavior is turning you on, and you feel your flaccid cock start to grow. As your hands dip past her tail, you slide them down around her tail hole, and towards the lips of her honey pot.

Her lips are swollen and warm, and you tease the outside with your fingertips, lightly tapping along the edge. Her smile turns into a pout. “I think you're going to need to scratch a little harder for this itch.”

You oblige the suddenly needy mare, and slip your right hand into her waiting, quivering flesh. It's hot. Not just warm, but practically burning. Your hand slides in easily, she's slippery and wet inside. Spreading your fingers, you stretch her pliant flesh, and she moans in response, lowering her head into your chest.

Your other hand drops to the fleshy nub at the tip of her cunt, and you give her swollen clit a squeeze. She shudders into your chest, pressing herself into you as she stifles a cry. Her cunt leaks onto your groin, moistening your now hard cock.

She was wet last night, but not dripping. Not like this. You feel strangely powerful as the mare squirms into your chest, moaning and gasping with each touch. You work up a pattern, three deep stretches and two hard squeezes followed by playing with her inner lips while you run the length of your hand across her sopping wet clit.

The squeezes make her gasp, and the rough texture of your hand causes her to squirm. She starts to anticipate your movements, leaning into you when you play with her and bracing against your chest when you fill her with your hand.

Playing with her body like this, watching her respond so readily is getting you more than just a little worked up. You lean your head forward and give her forehead a kiss in between the part in her dark brown mane. She tilts her head back and dives into your lips, wrapping her arms around your neck and holding you close to her.

Her tongue splits your lips, and slides into your mouth. It's strong, stronger than it's size would lead you to believe. You push it back into her mouth, and let it dance with your own. Her eyes are closed now, pressed tightly as she moans into you. You can feel her heat and wetness dribbling onto your cock, lubricating the space between your two bodies.

She shudders and pulls out of the kiss to put her head next to yours as she's rocking back and forth. “Make me cum...” You can't tell if it's a request or a command. Either way, you don't plan on disappointing her.

“Is my dirty whore having a good time?” You feel her shudder when you speak, her muscles squeezing against your hand inside her.

“Yes... Your little filly is having a good time.” She pants it out desperately. You smirk as you grind your cock against her body. She used an interesting choice of words.

“Do you want to be a good little filly for me?” Her eyes shoot open wide in surprise as you turn her words back on her. You can feel starting to shake and quiver as she sputters out a response.

“I want.. I want to be a good little filly, sir.” You know that she can't see you, but she still turns her blank face to look directly at you with eyes wide as saucers. She's squeezing your hand tightly with her cunt, and it's more slippery than before.

The temptation becomes too much, and you pull your hand out. She whines at the loss, pleading with you. “Please! I'll be a good filly. Just let me cum.” You shut her up by kissing her as you line up your dick, and slide it in. She's loose, but absolutely soaked and hot as the sun. You thrust your dick all the way in, burying yourself in the moaning whore as you pull away from the kiss.

“Be a good little filly and make yourself tight for me.” You tell her what you want, and she does it instantly. She squeezes your dick hard, it would be impossible to fuck her like this except she's so wet you can slide right into her. She shudders as you put your hand resting on her clit back to work. “Good little fillies get rewarded.”

Your throbbing, rock hard cock spears into her over and over again as she babbles incoherently into your chest. It's sexy as hell, but you've already blown your load plenty this night. It'll be a while before you're done. Deciding to make things move along faster, you sit up and roll her over so she's under you and you're facing down on her.

Watching her face, you realize that she's close. Much closer than you. You know how flexible she is, so it doesn't bother you to take her arms and pin them to the side of her head with your free arm. She squirms a little, but you can see her shaking and holding her breath as well. You have your other hand start stroking her clit in a long smooth and slow motion as you slow down your thrusting.

She's arching her back to meet your slow thrusts as you rock into her. “Does my dirty whore like being fucked this way?”

She moans her response between held breaths. “Yes... Sir...” It's odd how she suddenly started calling you sir. You'll have to ask her about it later. She clearly has some kind of kink where she likes to pretend she's younger than she is. Maybe she's pretending you're somebody else, somebody who she would have to call sir?

Well, screw it. Every time your last finger slowly crosses the edge of her clit, she gasps and tightens a little around you. So you time things to line up to that as you lean down to tell her what you want.

You grin like the Devil himself. “Be a good little filly, and cum for daddy.” Flick.

She screams, and you can feel her start to convulse, pressing up against your pinning arm almost like she's trying to escape. You press the weight of your body into her, holding her down and trapping her in a kiss. She begins to thrash about wildly, but your heavy weight keeps her pinned under you and you in her. She's screaming into your mouth, and her eyes are open wide, almost like she's terrified. After a moment of or two of this, you feel her convulse harder, this time into you, and something warm and wet gushes from her cunt.

She tears her head away from yours and does it again with a strained groan, more of a guttural scream. As the hot fluid drenches you all the sensations become too much to bear, and you feel yourself let go inside of her. You thrust deep into her squirting flesh and she lets out an exhausted sigh. Her body melts, easing back into the bed as you fruitlessly ejaculate inside her.

Your body is trying, but it seems like you're empty. Each dry squirt is really more painful than not, but the sensation is still satisfying. Grunting and sweating you collapse on top of her, and pull her into a kiss. She's completely unresponsive, letting you open her mouth and put your tongue into it.

After a moment, she turns her head to the side in order to gasp some air. You let her breathe and get up off of her, sliding your now shrinking dick out of her wet hole. She rolls over under you in order to face away, and you back off from her a bit. You're not sure if you can touch her right now or not.

She seemed to enjoy that a lot. You hadn't seen her cum like that yet, it was new. And hot. At the same time, she was acting weird. She hadn't said a word, and as far as you could tell was ignoring you. You began to get worried, had you done something wrong?

“Are you okay?”

She doesn't answer for the longest time. You begin to get really concerned that maybe you've hurt her. Is she even conscious? It's hard to tell when she's limp like that, since her eyes don't really tell you much. You just lay there in mental agony for a while, unsure of what just happened.

Eventually, she speaks. “I said I'd tell you... what was wrong with me.” Her voice is monotone again, as though she feels just as empty as she looks. You want to hold her, to touch her.

“Can I hold you? Are you all right?” Your worry bleeds into your voice.

Her response is terse, and cold. “No.” Just No. You wait for an explanation, or something like one. Instead she turns completely on her side, so that her back is to you. It's a long while of awkward silence.

You lay back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Somehow you've gone and fucked this up. You're not sure exactly what you did, but it's clearly pissed her off.

Minutes, maybe an hour later, you hear her speak again. “I said I'd tell you my story.”

You feel kind of angry about being ignored for so long, so your response is bitter. “No. It's all right.”

She turns to look at you, and you see tears streaming down her eyes. She's been crying the whole time. Silently, and facing away from you so you wouldn't notice. You feel like you ate a bag of rotten apples. “I'm sorry.”

She answers slowly. “It's fine. I just think you should know. I've never told anypony before.” She scoots a little closer to you. “I wouldn't mind you holding me while I talk, but please don't interrupt me.

You wrap your arms around her, and she snuggles into your chest. It's nice.

She starts her story quietly, but she picks up confidence as she talks. “Some ponies would start a tale like this by saying, 'I wasn't always like this.' I can't start this story that way. Because for as long as I can remember, I've been this way. Afraid to be touched. But it's not without reason. Because he was there in the beginning.”

Your heart drops like a rock. You can tell what she's going to say before she says it.

“My Daddy.”

Fuck.

All of my first memories are of him. As soon as I could walk, I learned to fear him. I was born blind, and my mother died in childbirth. Daddy was a unicorn, mommy too. But I was born a blind earth pony. He blamed me for Motherss death. I was useless to him, simply a mouth to feed. So he made me useful.

At nights, he would hurt me. It wasn't just painful either, it was embarrassing and awful. I hated baths as well. That's when he would play different games with me. It didn't hurt much, but I couldn't really walk right after them either.

I was completely at his mercy, he raised me. Taught me to speak. Kept me at home away from other ponies. If I did anything he didn't like, I was beaten. He didn't like anything I did. Sometimes I couldn't walk from the pain of beatings and playtime.

Once, maybe when I was about seven or eight, I asked why he hated me so much. At first he didn't say anything. Then he led me somewhere and strapped my back hooves into something. I was scared, but I knew better than to try and run. There was no where to run to. He hoisted me up, hanging me upside down. Then the straps spread my legs wide. He beat me with a whip, a paddle, and his magic.

It hurt down there for days afterwards, but he still played with me at night and made me take baths. It was awful. But he did tell me why he hated me. Because I was a filthy mud pony. A dirty little worm who would only ever be good for one thing. I had no magic, and no sight. I was less than useless, I was a burden. And in order to get me, he had traded his wife, my mother. A talented unicorn mage.

I understood where I was in life at that point. Life had been suffering and misery, and that's when I realized it would always be suffering and misery. I used to fantasize about being a princess or being rescued from Daddy. After that night, I stopped. Mud ponies didn't have futures like that. Blind ones less so. I was wasting my time thinking about that. I was better off thinking of ways to make Daddy happy, so he didn't hurt me as much. I got very good at making Daddy happy.

Puberty was difficult. I grew. I grew enough where it didn't hurt anymore. I'd been... enjoying... it forever, I don't know when my first orgasm was. Just that they always made me feel dirty and awful afterwords. But after puberty, I wanted his touch for more than just attention.

My life had been nothing but suffering with brief bouts of awful pleasure. So of course I favored the pleasure by this point. It was better to make Daddy feel good and for me to feel sick later than to get beaten until everything hurt, then being forced to make Daddy feel good and for me to still feel sick later. But at about maybe twelve or so, I actually started wanting it.

When he was working, I would bother him. If he was at his desk, I would go under it and put him in my mouth. Just to feel him finish inside of me while I played with myself. Puberty is when I became his little whore.

He sometimes used me to test spells. One time, he told me he was going to “fix” me. I didn't know what he meant at the time. It burned inside me so bad, I cried and then threw up. I had a pretty high pain tolerance by this point, so that was awful. Once the spell was over, he laughed at me. He told me that he made me sterile, but left me hormonal, so we could fuck all through my first season. We did.

Daddy and I didn't even shower that week. It would have been pointless. I was constantly wet, and he was constantly buried in me. I would wake him up multiple times during the night, and ride him until he came. Then we would both pass out for a few minutes until I woke up again. During the day, we hardly left the bed. He had a spell he'd use to make himself ready to go at any time, and after he 'fixed' me, my season wouldn't end no matter what happened to me. At the end of the week, the bed was soaked through with bodily fluids from us. Daddy threw the bed away, and made me clean the floor while he watched. Every year we'd spend my season like that, it was like a celebration for us.

During my early teen years, I was rebellious. That's when he started mixing the pleasure and pain in earnest. I might spend a day strapped to a machine of his that made me cum until I wanted to die. Or he would beat me with a whip and call me names until I came. I didn't stay rebellious for very long. I wasn't sure if I was getting rewarded or punished anymore, and I don't think I cared.

I got out once. It was accidental. Daddy had left the basement door open, and I wandered upstairs. I got outside somehow, fumbling with doors and whatnot. Outside at the time was warm and breezey, and I was greeted by a new voice. One that wasn't Daddy. It was small, it sounded more like me and less like Daddy.

It asked me if I wanted to play. I said yes. When the filly got away from me, she called me a freak. She told me to go home and never come outside again. So I turned around and went back. This world outside wasn't for me. I was a mud pony. Daddy found me crying in my room. I asked him to play with me. He beat me instead for going outside. I never went outside again.

I hated Daddy. I loved Daddy. He was my world, the only thing that I had lived for during my entire existence. So I was confused when he died. I didn't understand. I thought he was punishing me somehow. He hadn't come down to play with me in a while, and I was getting hungry. So I went upstairs to find him, and the door was unlocked. As I was wandering around his house, I bumped into him. He was hanging from something.

He wouldn't answer me when I called to him. He just swung back and forth. I tried to wake him up by giving him a blow job. Can you imagine that? I don't even know how long he was dead, or how long I tried to wake him up. Eventually some stallions came to take his stuff, he had owed them money. I imagine they were surprised when they found a blind teenager fellating a several day old corpse and crying.

They took me in, as I was one of Daddy's things. They were nice. All they wanted to do was play with me. Not even as much as Daddy did. Once in a while I would panic, thinking Daddy was back to punish me. I would cry and scream, and they didn't know what to do with me. So they took me somewhere else. They sold me to a whorehouse.

There were other mares there. They taught me how to speak like a regular pony, and about the world proper. I spent several years there, I liked it most of the time. The dirty feeling never went away, but stallions would come and play with me. I learned how much a bit was worth, and how to get them. Ponies traded bits to fuck me. They liked me at the whorehouse, because I was one of the better whores. I never said no to anything. Sometimes I would panic and cry, but they would just put me in a room until I stopped. I'd tell them when I was okay, and they would let me out.

But then, one day I was talking with a new girl, and she talked about how she told somepony no because they wanted to stick something in her butt. I asked her why she told him that, and she just said that she didn't like it when they did that. That's when everything changed.

The next day, anytime somepony touched me, I'd tell them no. And it worked. I didn't do anything I didn't want to that day. It was a brand new world. I meant something, if only enough to keep ponies from touching me. The day after, somepony touched me and I said no. But they didn't stop. I panicked, thinking they were Daddy. I think I bit them or something. I don't remember. They locked me in a room, and didn't let me out when I said I was okay.

Eventually, some ponies from the government came. They put me in a house where ponies helped take care of me. I took classes, and learned how to act like an adult. I learned about personal boundaries and what's okay to say and not to say in public. I learned a lot about how to function in society, but I knew I'd never be useful. As time went on, it became clear to me that I only had one skill, one thing I was good at.

I asked some difficult questions about zoning laws, and what's legal where. I bribed a pony with a hoof job, that's 5 bits, to write a sign for me, and take me to a place where I could do what I was good at, but not be near too many ponies.

There have been lot's of mean ponies. But not all of them are bad. Every few days I can usually get a customer for something. Somepony brought me a box to live in, that was nice. They pretended to just throw it away, but I know better. It's difficult to throw something like that away on a sleeping mare without waking her up.

Ponies still touch me, they still make me do things that make me think of Daddy. They still make me flinch and hate myself. But they do it on my terms. Those are my prices. I can be bargained with, or haggle, but I get to make a decision on it. And that's what's important. It's hard, some days I spend the whole day thinking about what an awful pony I am. I am a mud pony that lives in the mud, and I do dirty things.

That was yesterday. I hated myself. I was hungry and sad. I think I know why Daddy killed himself. Yesterday I was thinking about how life is just awful, and everything is suffering. I was thinking about doing what Daddy did. I'm good at one thing. And I hate it. It makes me feel sick inside, but it's all I have to trade.

Earlier, I was crying because I had been thinking of Daddy. I thought of daddy when you made me finish. You know, I tried to get away. I was scared for a moment. But then you made me cum. Just like Daddy used to.

Holy hell. Mother of flying fuck.

Well, at least you know something that holds true between dimensions. The better in bed they are, the more fucked up they are. What the heck are you going to do now?

Author's Note

I didn't really want to do it. But you asked for it. Have some backstory, and I'll take my thumbs downs in stride. Also, I think the title is clever. And I think that now I can comfortably keep the dark tag. Whew. I'm glad that's settled.