When a person is slapped by a lover, the pain is exciting. When a person is slapped by their Daddy, the feeling is distressing.
Mary didn't know which applied to her.
She didn't know how to feel, anymore.
Mary lay in Daddy's arms, his hand cupping her breast and his cock pressed snugly between her ass cheeks.
A moment ago, she felt she was in some kind of hedonistic heaven, embracing a love that was as special as it was forbidden. The pain of her lover's rough love and the abuse he dealt her while he was consumed by passion was like a thrill ride leading to a gentle ending.
Now, her bruises merely hurt. The exotic flavor in her mouth tasted foul. Daddy's hand on her breast felt clammy and disgusting. The feeling of his cum dripping out of her damaged pussy was like a nightmare.
Mary wept quietly in his arms, horrified by what she had done.
She did not blame Mary Marvel, anymore.
She finally recognized that Mary Marvel had always been inside of her, often deeply suppressed but she had always factored into Mary's decisions. Mary had always admired heroes, but when given the opportunity to become one, she had chosen to be Mary Marvel instead.
Now, there was nothing to be done. Mary Marvel was not like a shadow that will disappear when exposed to the light. Instead, she was like a skeleton that was pulled out of the closet. The light does not drive skeletons away, because unlike shadows, skeletons are not illusions. They are real and usually tell a sad story. They cannot be stuffed back in the closet.
But if Mary Marvel was a skeleton, then Daddy was a live monster. He brought the shadows and the skeletons into being. He created the drama that had controlled all of Mary's life.
Every second Mary spent in Daddy's bed was killing her spirit.
She was afraid that she would have to choose between herself and Mary Marvel. She was afraid that one of the Marys must die for the other to ever be happy.
But Mary Marvel was the only part of herself that was ever truly happy.
Mary couldn't just give up her life so that Mary Marvel and Daddy could live happily ever after.
Mary Marvel needed her as much as she needed Mary Marvel.
When Daddy eventually rolled away from Mary and snored on the other side of the bed, Mary slipped out from under the covers.
She looked around for her pajamas, but she couldn't find any. She didn't see her Mary Marvel costume either. She didn't understand where her clothes went, because she never took off either set of clothes.
Maybe they disappeared because Daddy's hands were all over her when she changed.
Whatever. I didn't matter. She tiptoed silently across the room and slipped through the door.
She made it down the hall and to her bedroom only to be met by the locked door that had forced her onto Daddy's bed to begin with.
It was just as well. Tired as she was, she couldn't go to sleep or even lay on her bed while feeling so filthy.
She walked further down the hall to the bathroom.
As luck would have it, Daddy's keys were on the bathroom counter. Now she could easily go to bed if she wanted to, but her mind was now set on washing away her sins, if that were even possible.
She started the water in the shower and looked at herself in the mirror while waiting for the water to heat up.
Her eyes were caked in her own dried tears, but those were quickly replaced by fresh ones. Daddy's thumb prints were bruised into her shoulders. His cum left a sticky residue on her breasts. A dark line of red and brown was drying on her leg. It ran all the way from her pussy to where Mary Marvel's gladiator shoe straps had pressed into her calves. Then the mix of cum and blood cut horizontally around her leg.
Mary closed her eyes; she couldn't bear to look at herself.
What if she was pregnant? What if this pain never goes away?
When Mary opened her eyes again, she didn't see herself. She saw Mary Marvel instead.
Mary Marvel's hair was a mess, too. Residue of cum and blood and tears covered her as well, but somehow she made it look good. The worst of the worst merely adorned her body.
"I'm sorry," Mary Marvel said from the mirror. "I never meant to hurt you."
"You didn't hurt me," Mary replied angrily. "He hurt us both."
"But I let him hurt us," Mary Marvel countered. "I thought this is what I wanted. I thought this was what WE wanted. I don't know what I want, anymore."
"I don't, either," Mary replied tearfully.
But Mary Marvel always rebounded quickly. "Bring me back and I'll take away the pain. We'll do it together. If we stand together, we can do it. You can make the choices. You are better at that. And I can make everything alright."
Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath before saying, "Shazam!"
The pain and regret did not go away, but it lifted like only time had ever done before. But this time it was instantaneous. Mary Bromfield didn't disappear, and Mary Marvel didn't take over. The two came together in one person. She felt all of Mary Bromfield's regret without the shame. She felt all of Mary Marvel's confidence without the recklessness.
She opened her eyes again, and she was startled by what she saw.
She was Mary Marvel again, and she was as beautiful as ever, but she looked different.
Her body was now sparkling clean, as though all of the sex and abuse she had experience that night had never happened.
She was an inch taller and more muscular, like the two bodies had morphed together. Her costume had turned white with a slightly longer skirt and loose cotton folds that were not as revealing but very cozy. The sexy gladiator sandals were gone, replaced by simple, golden shoes with kitten heels.
Now, her image in the mirror reflected her own ideal of beauty, meant to please herself rather than pleasing Daddy.
She lifted her skirt, expecting to find a change there as well, only to see that her bare bottom was still pantyless.
She giggled friskily. At least part of her still felt naughty.
The costume was still very sexy and prone to accidental or intentional exposure, but now she could choose how appropriate or inappropriate she wanted to be. That appealed to both of her personalities.
But who knew how she would feel tomorrow? Right now, the two Marys were on the same page, but maybe tomorrow she would like a different look. Was this her costume from now on, or will it change depending on how she felt. Maybe she will have a wardrobe of costumes that change at random. That thought was both scary and exciting.
Whatever plans the perverted gods had for her, they wanted the unstable girl to make her own decisions. That was something Daddy never let her do.
Mary looked up at the ceiling and thanked the gods. She felt good knowing they were on her side - whichever side that was!
Not needing the shower any longer, Mary turned off the water.
She grabbed the keys from the counter and yawned.
She unlocked her bedroom door, kicked off her shoes, and dove onto her bed fully costumed. She lay on her back smiling with her head resting in Tawky Tawny's lap.
She was exhausted after such a long and crazy day. She was too tired to stay awake, but too much had just happened for her to fall asleep.
There was no way to forget the unthinkable things she had done, but the only person she had hurt was herself. One of the very few super powers that Mary Marvel still had was the power to forgive herself.
She was eager to understand herself better, both her slutty and her reserved sides. Tomorrow, she would make better choices. She would be a better person. She would be the daughter that Daddy needed, but not the daughter that he wanted.
She cuddled up with Tawky Tawny. She had always felt safe while laying on this bed. She closed her eyes.
If given a little more time, she might actually have fallen asleep.
# # #
She was almost there when, for the second time that night, someone came barging into her bedroom.
Daddy shook the bed and yelled, "What the fuck is this, Mary?"
Mary rolled onto her side and shook off the cobwebs in her mind. "Daddy? What's wrong?"
He grabbed her leg and pulled her to the edge of the bed, forcing her skirt to slide up her body.
"You belong with me in my bed!" he yelled.
Mary clung to her stuffed tiger, but that did nothing to stop her legs from being pulled over the foot of the bed, or to keep her body from quickly being exposed to Daddy yet again.
"No, Daddy!" she shouted. "Please! I want to sleep in here!"
"You are mine!" he insisted. "There is no going back!"
"No, Daddy! It isn't right! Please let me go!" Mary begged, now trying to kick his hands away, but he surrounded both of her ankles with large, powerful hands. She was a little stronger as Mary Marvel, but in either body, he was still almost twice as heavy and strong as she was.
She turned over and tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her hips and lifted her back end off the mattress. Then he sat on the bed and laid her body over his lap again, ready to continue the spanking he had started earlier.
It didn't matter which Mary she was, anymore. It didn't matter how confident or determined she had felt ten minutes ago. It didn't matter what gifts the gods had given her. She gave up quickly, and started crying. That was the girl she was at the core.
He lifted her skirt and began caressing her ass and stroking her pussy.
"I know you liked it, Mary, so stop fighting me," he said more softly now. "Or maybe that is what turns you on – playing hard to get!"
Mary's mouth dropped from how stupid that sounded. Did he really think that she was playing some kind of game? Could he really not tell when she was flirting and when she was serious? For a brief moment, her anger overwhelmed her fear, and she surprised herself by yelling, "I hate you, Daddy!"
Two seconds later, his gentle caresses on her ass cheeks changed to a heavy spanking that made all of his previous spankings seem unserious by comparison. The skin of his hand smacked her already sore ass and pussy so hard, she could barely cry out.
"I'll teach you to defy me, you little whore!" he spat while Mary convulsed between each of his slaps.
She felt his cock hardening against her belly again, and despite the terrible punishment, she felt the pain becoming a longing.
"Stop..." she begged, afraid that she would give into him as she always had. "Please stop..."
But she couldn't hear her own pleas as the air seemed to fill with a roaring sound.
At first she thought the sound was all in her mind.
But the sound made Daddy stop slapping her and look behind him on the bed.
Then Mary looked, too.
Where there once was a giant stuffed tiger, now crawled an even larger, live tiger, and its eyes were fixed directly on Daddy's throat.
Daddy pushed Mary off of his lap frantically, instantly going from predator to prey. He stepped over her body and ran out the door at an almost inhuman speed, slamming it behind him.
When Mary climbed back onto the bed, Tawky Tawny was a stuffed animal again.
She snuggled with the tiger and tried to forget what had just happened. She couldn't ignore the pain on her ass, but the tiger's warm, furry body was comforting.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you from Daddy," the tiger purred. "And I'll protect you from yourself."
She closed her eyes, and sleep came easier than it had before. In fact, she slept easier and deeper than she had slept in months.
Telling Daddy that she hated him felt like she had extracted a stone out of her chest that had been in there for so long that she wasn't aware. But now that it was gone, its absence was a huge relief!