“Proper clothes,” he corrects himself and continues, “Meet me outside the house, and we’ll get out of here—you and me. I’ll take us far away, somewhere we can start over. Somewhere we don’t have to be Clementine and August Jackson.”
But what about Daddy?
“Clemmie, please...” August moves his hand to stroke my hair as if he can read my thoughts. “If you don’t go with me, I’m leaving without you.”
“I can’t go,” I whisper, “not yet.”
This house is all I know. I’ve spent my life roaming the long corridors, getting to know every dark corner of the grounds, and learning where the special spots are. It’s a beautiful place. Daddy modernized the house, but I begged him to keep some of the original features. I like them. They made me feel like a character in a storybook.
August can’t look at me. He leaves without making a sound or stepping on any of the creaky floorboards.
I retrieve my diary from under the mattress and return to bed. I’m no good at writing. I can never find the right words, but I like to draw. Sketched pictures bring my deepest fantasies to life. Things I’m not sure whether August will understand. He thinks he’s done bad things before, but it’s nothing compared to what I’ve done or want to do.
I add details to a medieval torture device. They’re one of my favorite things to draw. I giggle at the thought of the guillotine chopping someone’s head off and draw a ramp for it to hurtle down before transcending into an open cage of hungry rats. I shade in their jagged little teeth, then chew on the end of my pencil, pondering what other torture I can inflict on what’s left of the stick person’s body.
August doesn’t understand that Daddy keeping me here isn’t only for his benefit. He thinks I’m a prisoner, but Daddy gives me a safe environment to explore my urges in exchange for helping his friends.
Time passes, and I rise to look out of the window. August lounges on the hood of his car, looking up at me. There’s no one else around. We’re in the middle of nowhere. The guests won’t arrive until nightfall, and Daddy won’t stop working until late.
August’s eyes meet mine. I hope he understands. It’s a full-length window, and I press my hand against the glass as a peace offering. I might want to leave one day, but I can’t... not yet.
I need to give him a reason to stay.
I pull my nightshirt over my head. He doesn’t look away as I trail my hands over my breasts, then down to my hips and over my panties. I kneel and blow against the glass, causing it to fog. I use my finger to write ‘STAY’ as big as possible. It’s hard to write backward, but I think I manage it. The message won’t last long before it disappears. I stand up and grin, then tug my panties down. The message evaporates with each passing second to reveal more of my pussy.
August’s jaw clenches. He turns away and gets into the car. The engine revs as the wheels hurtle away, leaving a spray of gravel and dust behind and my naked frame trembling against the window. I’ve never felt alone here before, but the thought of him never returning fills me with dread.
Am I not enough for him?
I close the curtains to shut the sunlight out, drawing a deep breath to stop my anger from rising. I dive onto my bed and grab my teddy bear. One I’ve had for years. I hold its head and squeeze, imagining it’s August’s neck, and his face is turning purple. I turn the teddy’s head, wringing it until his sparse fur stretches and stuffing starts to leak from a hole in the stitches, then I stop.
Killing August would be like killing a part of myself. I couldn’t do that.
I smooth the fur, then stroke the bear lovingly. It was a birthday gift from Daddy. He made it just for me. I called him Mr. Darcey.
Mr. Darcey knows all my secrets, the good and evil. He has a hard nose and a snout made from a strange silicone-like material. It’s silky against my skin but not cold. There’s a switch on his back hidden by the fur. When I turn it on, his nose vibrates. There are different modes to change the speed. I slip Mr. Darcey between my legs and hold his snout to my pussy.
My body responds instantly to the stimulation like I’ve been taught to, but there’s an emptiness to it. Mr. Darcey can’t fill the hole August left behind, even if I unzipped his special pouch and pulled out the corkscrew-shaped dildo to fuck myself with. I don’t want to wash him today, so his nose will have to do. Besides, my pussy will be filled at the party later.
I come hard and fast. I hold Mr. Darcey in my arms when I’m done, hugging him to my chest. He’ll never let me down unless he runs out of batteries.
“What should I do, Mr. D?” I murmur. “Will August come back to me?”
His glassy black eyes stare vacantly, offering zero comfort or words of advice.
“I know you don’t care.” I sigh. “But what am I meant to do, Mr. Darcey? I can’t leave Daddy... I can’t leave this place... can I?”
I have no time to feel sorry for myself because there’s a knock on my door. I don’t bother trying to hide what I’m doing as Daddy walks in without an invitation and sees me cuddling Mr. Darcey.
Daddy smirks. “I see preparations for the evening are underway.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, positioning Mr. Darcey between my legs. His shiny nose and stitched smile grin at him. “We’ve been playing together.”
“Good,” Daddy says. The erection in his pants grows, making me feel better instantly. August doesn’t appreciate me how Daddy says men should appreciate a woman. August doesn’t like the way Daddy and his friends act. “I will see you this evening, Clementine. Don’t tire yourself out.”
“I won’t,” I chirp back, knowing Daddy won’t spoil me before the party.
At least I have something to look forward to now.