The house was huge. To me it looked like an exotic castle from the east. A home suited to a sheik or something. The word that echoed over and over in my mind when i saw it was opulent. It had taken us about 2 hours to get there, and we were far from anywhere i knew well. John fed me a few more tic tacs from his palm then came around and got me out of the car. He held my hand tightly, and i have no doubt next to his giant frame i did look rather small and weak. i weaved and staggered, but he managed to guide me up the lighted walkway. A young man met us at the door and sent John away. He was told to come straight in the back door when time was up and get me. Mr. Catlette had a way of loosing track of time the young man said. John nodded, patted my ass and was gone. "You don't look Father's type," the young man told me. i shrugged and followed him. He took me through a nice dining room, down a long hall and to a door with sticker ballet shoes on it. He opened this door with a key, because it had a padlock on it. He shoved me unceremoniously into the room and slammed the door behind me. i heard the lock being engaged. i looked around the room. It was large, and brightly furnished with sunny yellow ruffles and white whicker. At the vanity i found pictures of a girl of about 13 years. She was posed with friends, posed in her cheerleading uniform, posed with a gorgeous horse. In every picture her eyes were dead. The lips smiled brightly, with beautiful teeth flashing, but the eyes were old and cold and dead. i backed away from the vanity, and the living dead girl pictured there. i backed over to the bed and sat down. Dreading what was to come, but wanting to be done with it. i've always hated waiting to suffer. Let's be done with it already. Some time later, i was getting dangerously sleep and had laid my head against the post of the bed and was drowsing when the door burst open. It was the old man. He grabbed me off the bed and slapped me smartly across the face. "You can't get away from me, you little bitch. Nothing can save you. Not even death." i had no idea what he was talking about. i hung limply as he shook me like a ragdoll. Looking at that enraged old monster i blessed John and Benny. i felt so numb and removed. That blessing lasted through being thrown to the floor. Through watching him drag his belt off. Even through the beating. Through the bites, but it began to fade by the time he opened the drawer and pulled out the knife. It faded more as he pulled my nightie off and began to poke at my tits with sharp point of the knife, causing little rivulets of blood to flow. When he leaned down and licked at the blood with his disgusting old tongue my cloud of numbness abandoned me altogether. i began to whimper. "Ahh, yes, my sweet. Cry for me. Scream. Moan. But, utter a word I don't ask for and I'll cut your sweet pink tongue out." What he was doing was so reminiscent of my grandfather, his tone so like his, i knew unequivocally he was telling the truth. So i kept this warning at the forefront of my mind. And, i held on. i held on through his light stabs to my pussy, and licking of the blood. i held on as he wiped my blood into his palms and made me crawl across the room licking it off. i gagged and choked and nearly puked, but i held on. But, when the noose went around my neck, suddenly all i saw was the dank dirty and dark basement of long ago. And, as i tried to balance on tiptoe so as to choke less, i heard another old gravely voice call me cunt. And, when the noose pulled me off my feet, i found the hole in the wall in front of me and escaped.
i don't know what young part of me was left with this monster. i know that they must have told him quite a bit because eventually after several more visits, i was no longer taking to the room of his daughter, but to my own room, which lead to a basement. In the end tasting my old pain would be even more delicious than reliving what he did to his daughter. Who i eventually learned committed suicide at 13.
