The Oubliette ~ beneath Club PG (Closed)

[The_PG]

She's asking too many questions. One side of my mind says. Destroy her.

This is your beautiful, new, frightened little girl. Says the other. Don't fuck up.

"That's..." I look around and smile, "True." I shrug as if it is nothing. Deciding another lie is not worth the effort. In fact the more lies that come out of our talks, the easier it will be to ruin this entire thing. Until I can make her not care about those sorts of things, or make her understand that they simply don't matter, I need to be careful with my little girl.

"It's summer. Two thousand eleven. May 21st, I think. Hehe, I'm pretty horrible with time... But I do know it's getting late, and you're probably getting tired. Tomorrow we're going to the doctors, so we should probably hit the bed early tonight. It'll be a big day, and I'm sure everything will go well... In fact, you'll probably have so much fun, that you'll be exhausted... All over again."

I grin, and kiss just above her navel. Stupid move, since my cock swells up again. In order to gain a little more time I look up at her and speak softly. Concentrating so hard on what I'm saying, and how she'll react to it, that I can ignore the pressing needs of my other self.

"I know you don't remember... But I've not always been there for you, and I want to make it up. This... What happened, just... Brought everything to light. I needed you, but moreso... My little girl needs me, she needs her daddy, as much as you might think you don't." Giving a little wink, I find my hands rubbing over your stomach, and even straying down to her hips. But it's not sexual, surprisingly, I don't even feel a rise. So long as I don't think about it. "I know you can't remember, and I don't expect you to, but I hope we can start over... I can do things right. I'm sure of it."

 

[fuckmeat]

His hands on my stomach and hips aren't creepy or weird as such but his touch is... possessive. I know he wants to make things up to me but spending all my time shut away in this room is not the way to accomplish that. Again I feel the mental lurch of thinking that I know what's best for me, even though I'm supposed to trust in and defer to my father. But those feelings make me believe that what he says is true; that he hasn't been around. It would explain my lack of automatic trust in him and how the way treats me jars with my personality.

I move away from him, disengaging from his constant touching, which is becoming a little oppressive, adding to my reservations about the windowless room and making me claustrophobic. Daddy seems to get the message because he lets me go. His eyes betray disappointment however and I suddenly feel guilty for reacting so coldly to his speech about making things up to me. I reach out and stroke his hair gently, keeping him at arms' length.

"I know you want to make things up to me and there'll be lots of time for that. I need to see the doctor and then I'm going to need a new school, I guess. There's going to be lots of time for us to get to know each other again."

The subtext is clear; 'slow down a little because you're overwhelming me.'

I only have his word for it that it's late now. I don't even remember seeing a clock anywhere since I woke up. That irks me, but I push the annoyance aside, not wanting to find fault and then have to fight him. This whole room, which comprises my entire world right now, it's all wrong for me. I'm too old for disney characters and bright pink stuff. I'm going to have to get him to change everything but today is not the day to say so. I look around for the nightie I discarded earlier to bathe and then rise to pick it up. I haven't yet been alone and awake in order to mull things over without his influence. How many dad's spend half as much time in a teenager's room? Doesn't he have other stuff to do? How does he make all the money he has?

More questions. Always more questions.

I decide the answers can wait a night.

"So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" I say, twisting the nightie in my hands unconsciously. I remember that I had nightmares the last time I slept. I wonder if he'll allude to a job or even a partner in his reply. What has he been doing with himself in the years I haven't been in touch with him? It's perfectly possible that he could have a new girlfriend... even new kids.

There is still just so fucking much that I do not know. I decide that explains the low grade apprehension writhing in my guts... that and my rather more immediate fear of sleeping again.

 

[The_PG]

I smile, feeling the tension grow. It's completely out of my control, but I can fix this just like I fixed her before. I glance at her nightie, and the smile quickly turns from reassuring to warm and realizing when I look back up. She can see the difference, and relaxes a bit subconsciously. Nodding my head, "Of course... Goodnight baby."

I lean over and kiss her on the forehead, give her a little squeeze on the shoulder, and slip out of the room. It locks, silently, behind me. Tomorrow she'll almost certainly be asking why she's locked into her room, and I cannot really knock her out everytime she needs to come and go. Either I can do one of two things at this point. Give her a normal life, move her out of here, and let things develop entirely in the natural. Or... I can make her my little whore. I've done it before, but it never turns out quite right.

Suddenly, an idea springs to light. One I have not thought of, ever.

I turn around slowly, and virtually watch myself reach for, and unlock the door.

Then I vanish to my office.

It is a chance, but if it goes the way I think it might... She could stumble upon what I do, and how I do it, and like it. Or at least be curious, obviously her daddy would never be the man that he truly is. This is just his business, his lively hood, maybe he's just a little... Weird? The thoughts that could go through her mind will keep me up all night, so instead of turning in as I mention her needing to. I go to the fourth floor, and pick out one of the girls who wants to party, but is just a bit too nervous to go anywhere else. I take her up to the seventh floor and begin the process of turning her into my little slut. Just like I'll do to the little girl deep in the basement, if things don't go the way I'm planning them to go. Even if my plan is... Letting her "choose" what she sees.

The next morning, I knock softly on the door, perhaps she just stayed in? The security team would have told me, if she tried to leave.

Entering, I speak softly, "Baby... You awake? Time to go to the doctor's office..."