Mated With My Father

Mated With My Father: 4

Three weeks had passed. Laric number 28 never showed up again. I bet it was acid from throwing up that got him killed. I knew the original werewolf wouldn't let it pass. I tried luring the new laric in a conversation, but I have had no success so far. He was probably warned I was dangerous. Advised to ignore me. I couldn't pin point the exact number he was but I sensed he was a higher-ranking one. I had nothing to do but to stare at the gray, cold walls. My body was the only heat radiating in this room.

I had given a lot of thought to the whole father-daughter thing, since the mate thing was too shameful to even think about. At least that part didn't surprise me. I knew it for as long as I can remember. That I am, indeed, his daughter.

I have a distinct memory of his distanced piercing blue eyes. He was holding me like a newly born baby. We were surrounded by other larics. They were on their knees, lined in a circle around us, with their heads bowed to the ground.

He was holding me in his arms. I followed his gaze, which was focused on me. I was smiling. He was not. I was stretching my small arms up for him to grab them. Instead of my arms, he grabbed my neck.

I was never quite sure if it was a dream or a memory. I couldn't remember his face. Only the feeling of his fingers wrapped around my neck. He wanted to snap it. He should have. How shameful it is that your strongest instinct is to fu*k none other than your own daughter.

This cell of mine is his compromise between his desire to kill me and to have me. Does he expect me to thank him for that? Does he consider himself merciful for condemning my life to thirty square meters?

Suddenly, my ears caught a sound of hurried footsteps coming down my way. My body tensed as if on alert. The number 26 appeared in front of my cell. Hurriedly he started unlocking the bars. The bars were closed for eighteen years.

"What is happening?" I whispered, the panic suddenly entering my body.

I dreamt about this cell opening but now, when it was happening, I realized, I was much more comfortable on the other side of the bars. This thirty square room was all I have ever known.

"He Is coming."

"Who is coming?" I asked with a lump forming in my throat.

"Master." I gulped at his response.

"What does he want?" I sensed fear in my own voice.

What does he want after eighteen years? Did I cause too much trouble down here? Maybe this time, he is coming to do what he should have a long time ago. Killing me.

"I don't know" Number 26 truthfully answered.

"You were never of any use to me." I snarled back as a mad dog.

Distressed, I looked around the cell, without bars in front of me, feeling strangely exposed.

"Do not look at his face." He hurriedly instructed me.

Before he went rushing out of the dungeon, he stopped for a brief moment. "Actually, don't bother. You won't survive it either way."

After he left, the silence engulfed me. The bars were wide open, tempting me to flee before it was too late. But I stayed still. If I had any chance of surviving the escape, they wouldn't unlock it for me. Suddenly I realized. The bars were never there to prevent me from escaping. They were here to protect me from the outside world. And now they are gone. Exposing me. For the first time in those long years, I am not free but vulnerable. Touchable.

The air became cooler by a couple of degrees. My heart stopped beating. Something malicious invaded the air. I could feel it before I could see it. The temperature dropped further and my throat went dry. My light bulb suddenly stopped functioning and darkness engulfed the entire space. I couldn't see anything, not even my own body.

Some of the air left my lungs as if it was escaping from what was about to come down here. Leaving me all on my own. For the first time, I felt like I couldn't endure what was about to happen.

I remembered the words of number 28 "He feels like a void. Emptiness."

Then I remembered his piercing blue eyes, they looked like a clear sky. I remember his arms around my body. His fingers gripping my neck.

Does dying feel like this? Sweaty palms and useless memories rushing into your brain.

Before I heard his footsteps, I could smell him. I froze. He smelled of a widespread fire, destroying everything that needed centuries to be created. He smelled of burned human flesh and their amputee limbs penetrating their way inside of my womb. Agony entered my body as the only food my body could feed off from now and forward. My mind could barely contain it all. So much sadness he caused, so much death. It was given to me, for the first time, to feel what I myself was made of.

His scent was too much to handle. My body submitted to it. Involuntarily, I started urinating the full streams, wetting my panties and jeans. I wanted to stop but I couldn't. Trying to resist and stop the urine only resulted in an orgasm-like stimulus. I fell to my knees, still urinating with legs wide spread. I needed his tongue to lick me. To press his mouth on my pus*y and drink all of my pee.

Then, suddenly, I knew. Even though I couldn't see anything but darkness, I knew. He was inside, standing a few meters in front of me. His eyes were on my body that was folded on the floor. I couldn't feel the heat from his body. Nor could I feel his excitement. I couldn't feel anything coming from him. Only his sole presence.

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The knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark.

Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark.