Another of his games took place in my room. It wasn't like a little girl's room. It was still decorated as though my Aunt R still lived in it. Pictures of her old friends from college, her baseball stuff, books and papers. The walls were purple and the bed was way too big for me. It was a double bed and i barely made a lump when i laid in it. For this game, i would be tied spread eagle on the bed. He had to use old sheets since my arms and legs didn't reach anywhere near the edges of the bed. Once i was immobile, he would poke me with the tip of his pocket knife while laughing and whispering "Tickle, tickle." He usually began with my chest and belly, and moved into scarier areas. The pokes weren't life threatening. Just enough to draw blood. But, i was always scared that this time... this time he would be tired of his cunt, and do away with it. Usually before he had even made it to my genitals or my throat, i would begin to beg to "be a good girl." Which meant suck his cock. Once my pussy was bleeding, i'd beg him to fuck me. Anything, anything to keep him from cutting my throat. As he would force his cock into his chosen orifice, he would curse me for a whore. Telling me that good girls didn't beg for cock. That he would have to hurt me. And, he always did.
