"If the connection between abuse and "love" is made early in life, the feelings of shame and anger, which naturally happen as a consequence of the abuse, can become mixed up with sexual feelings, leading to confusion in the person who experienced the abuse. These feelings may become interpreted as feelings of love and passion, and can lead to sexual arousal."
-Elizabeth Hartney, PhD - from the article The Cycle of Sexual Abuse and Abusive Adult Relationships
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Chapter Four
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{o}-{o}-{o}
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The last house Suzie and Daddy Ken lived in together was rented as "furnished," but the furniture was cheap and most of it about ready to fall apart, or just filthy. The mattress in her room had been a horrible, stained mess that even Daddy Ken said was disgusting, so he bought a new one, very cheap, but better than the one that had been there. He had replaced the mattress in his room too, with one much finer. She knew that because she sometimes spent the night in his room. The three of them, Daddy Ken, Uncle Sean and herself painted her room though. It had been an ugly Hunter green when they took the house, which made the small room seem even smaller and darker. They painted it pink of course, even though she would have preferred any color but pink.
"Can't we paint it a nice, pastel blue?" she suggested. Blue was her favorite color. It was the color of the sky, the color of freedom. Pink was the color of sex in her mind. Pink was the color that drove it crazy.
Daddy Ken laughed, a real laugh, too, showing he had no intention of taking her request seriously. "You want it painted like Timmy's room, don't you?" When she shook her head, he laughed again. "You don't have to be shy about it, baby girl, he was your first and your first will always be special." They were taping the woodwork in the bedroom in preparation for the painting, waiting for Uncle Sean to come over and help. "He treated you really good, Suzie, I know he did, I saw it."
She forced herself to smile. By their standards, "Little Timmy" had treated her well. He had done everything he could to make sure he was gentle, that he wouldn't hurt her too badly. But she was tired of the jokes. She was ashamed of that time, ashamed with how she had responded to Timmy's gentleness. She didn't have any defenses in place then, she had let him make her vulnerable. And honestly, she didn't even remember what color Timmy's room was, because unless the movie lights were on and they were filming, the walls looked like some washed out gray color.
Daddy Ken must have seen she was upset, even behind the smile, because he put down the tape he was using, scooped her into his arms. He placed her on the bed, which was covered with plastic and moved to the center of the room. Then he got on top of her. She automatically moved her legs so he could lie between them as she had been taught. He started rubbing himself along her, whispering in her ear. "He's your first, but I'm the best, right?"
"Yes, Daddy," she said, rocking her hips so she was pressing into him, another thing she was taught to do. The protective plastic on the mattress made the bed slippery. Teeth, she told herself. I have teeth down there and they're all razor sharp. The next time he puts it inside of me, I'm going to bite it off. The thought of it made her moan, thinking of herself covered with his blood, imagining his eyes going wide, trying to protest but being unable to, because he was bleeding out. It was a really good fantasy and she found herself rubbing into him a little more eager than normal.
"Oh god, Baby, keep that up and I won't be able to stop myself," he said, "My little baby slut," He balanced on one elbow and pushed her t-shirt up, so he could touch her breasts, which were very small, but they were there, unlike when they had first taken her. She almost regretted that she had been allowed to wear pants to protect her clothing from paint. If she'd been wearing one of her dresses, she'd probably be able to fantasize about biting a finger or two off first.
She was actually thinking about moving his hand to her crotch, hoping he'd say to hell with it and undo the button on her jeans, but Uncle Sean walked into the room, and when he saw the two of them, he shook his head. "Enough, you two," he said, his voice businesslike, but not mean. "We need to get this room painted."
Daddy Ken groaned loudly, and Suzie thought he might suggest Uncle Sean join them and have themselves a "quickie" before they painted. I can bite two of them off, she thought. But Daddy Ken got off of her, standing up and adjusting the loose sweatpants he wore. "Sorry, baby girl," he said, his gaze still hungry as it took in her body. "I'd really love to fuck you right now, but your Uncle Sean is right, we have to get this room painted."
She smiled, her most adorable, I'm-such-a-naughty-little-girl smile. "That's okay, Daddy. It won't take that long to paint this room." Like the girl she'd been taught to be, she licked her lips.
It hadn't taken long to paint her room, and before the paint had a chance to dry, she got to imagine both of them bleeding to death as her imaginary razor sharp teeth below bit it off. It's not that, she told herself when they spent themselves, falling on top of her, groaning loudly. It's their blood, spilling out of them.
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Daddy Ken and Uncle Sean owned guns and they had knives they used in the kitchen, but they were always kept locked up when Suzie was around. If her food couldn't be cut with a butter knife, they would cut it for her. Suzie didn't think about it at first, life had been too awful to realize what was going on. But, it did hit her eventually, that they did that because they didn't trust her. No matter how much she pretended that she didn't mind this life, that she actually enjoyed it, they didn't quite trust her around weapons. While she didn't like it, she thought it was pretty smart of them. Had she been able to shoot or stab them, she might be able to get out of there faster.
But when the kitchen table at that last place with all its cheap furniture fell apart, she realized she hadn't been thinking about weapons correctly. The table fell over and one thick, heavy, leg rolled across the kitchen. The food Uncle Sean brought over had fallen to the floor, but it was all still in its containers, so they would be able to save it. Trying to be helpful, because being helpful made Daddy Ken more trusting, she went over and picked up the table leg.
The weight felt good in her hands and as she held it, she looked at Uncle Sean and imagined her holding it with both hands, raising it above her head and then bringing it down, slamming it into Uncle Sean's skull with such force that his head would split open like a ripe melon. She drew in a sharp breath, realizing this was more satisfying as her fantasies about killing him with sex.
"Baby, what's going on?"
She heard Daddy Ken's voice as if it were far away and she had to shake her head hard to snap herself back into reality. The table leg was still in her hand, she hadn't grabbed it with both hands and raised it above her head, ready to make fantasy a reality, but she must have had the wrong look on her face, because both Daddy Ken and Uncle Sean were looking at her with almost wary expressions. She saw a spot on the wall across the room and thought quickly. "There's a roach on the wall!" she said, sounding both afraid and angry. "I hate roaches!"
She didn't have to pretend, she did hate roaches and they both knew it. Daddy Ken went over and looked at the spot. "It's not a roach, baby, it's just a grease spot."
Uncle Sean took the chair leg away from her. She hadn't wanted to give it up, but she let him take it easily. "I hate roaches!" She said again, then burst into tears. "They scare me!"
She was scared of roaches, but she wasn't afraid of them. Being able to cry on command had made her very popular in her movies, but they still fell for it. Instead of worrying that she might have had some bad ideas of what she could do with that chair leg, they rushed to comfort her, to assure her that it was all right, and they would get an exterminator into the house as soon as possible to make sure the house was free of those nasty roaches. And until they were all gone, Daddy Ken would be there to take care of her. Uncle Sean promised to go out right after dinner and come back with roach spray and traps so they could spray her room that very night.
She felt so stupid for not having thought of it sooner, but she couldn't change it. All she could do was be grateful that late as it was, she had finally realized, a weapon doesn't have to be sharp, it doesn't have to shoot bullets, all it has to do is to be long and heavy enough that I can give it a good swing and bash them in the head.
They ate their dinner in the living room and when they were finished, Daddy Ken and Uncle Sean took the table into the garage and put the leg back on and fixed it up so it wouldn't fall apart again. They wouldn't let Suzie help them, maybe they were afraid she'd see too many things that would make great weapons. But she knew her time was coming. All she had to do was to keep being good little Suzie, and be on the lookout.
Uncle Sean went out to get the spray and the traps and when he returned they let her watch TV, while they sprayed the room, and put down the traps. When they finished, they came out and told her she probably shouldn't sleep there that night, that the spray they used was strong.
She looked up and smiled. Her TV watching was carefully monitored, but Uncle Sean had ways to make sure the "adult" channels on cable were unlocked and she could watch those. She had turned to one of those and pretended she was engrossed in whatever was on. "It's okay," she said brightly. "I didn't want to sleep with those nasty paint fumes anyway. Can I sleep with you, Daddy? And can Uncle Sean spend the night with us, too?"
She was not at all surprised that both of them thought that was a great idea. And, just in case they still had doubts about her with that table leg? She went out of her way to be extra good to them, to let them think that what they were doing to her was her favorite thing in the world and she was in ecstasy the entire time.
And they died several deaths in her mind, each one more horrific than the last.
Author's Notes: As of the next chapter, this story will go up to an "M" rating. I'm warning folks because I tried at Chapter 2 and folks told me they didn't realize there was a chapter 2 until I posted chap. 3 with a T rating. So, if you are enjoying the story and don't normally read M stories, you might want to follow it.
It's not that I feel anything I'm writing is something a teenager shouldn't read. I'm not trying to glorify child abuse in any way, I'm trying to show it as a horrible thing. But, FFnet has strange rules and a T rating seems to be more "Not suitable for preteens and lower" rather than teenagers.