Daddy's Girl : An Extreme Psychological Horror

by Anton Palmer

  He grabbed her, pulling her tight against him, his tongue seeking hers before their lips had even touched. Victoria allowed him a few seconds of pleasure before pushing him away. “Not here, Marcus. Take me to my old house – now!”

  20

  Marcus drove like a bat out of hell, desperate to get to Victoria’s father’s house as quickly as possible before his wife had a chance to change her mind. The bulge between his legs had been clearly apparent since they’d left their bedroom, Victoria stroking his thigh throughout the journey, allowing the back of her hand to brush against his erection every so often just to ensure his kept his state of high arousal - remaining under her spell.

  Leading Marcus around to the rear of the house she opened the back door and led him into the kitchen. She didn’t want him seeing the mess in the living room and thinking that maybe everything was not as well as he thought. The kitchen was clean and tidy, just as she had left it when she moved out on their wedding day - except for the shiny steel saucepan that sat alone on the work surface.

  Marcus grabbed her by the hand and dragged her towards the living room door.

  “No. Stop!” Victoria tugged her hand free and Marcus whipped his head around to see what was wrong. Assuming she had changed her mind, a spark of anger suddenly flashed in his eyes.

  “What’s the matter, baby?” His words were a tight-lipped snarl.

  “Nothing’s that matter, my darling. I just…want you to kiss me.”

  Marcus’s mouth relaxed again as he pulled her close, placing a finger under her chin to lift her face towards him.

  “No…wait…” Victoria had thrown a simple dress on for the journey over and now she hitched it up above her waist to reveal her black lace panties. “I want you to kiss me…down there…”

  Marcus’s eyes widened.

  “I want you to kiss my…pussy.”

  He could barely believe this was happening. For a fleeting moment he thought he must be dreaming.

  Was this really his wife? His frigid, repressed Victoria, using dirty words and actually demanding that he perform oral sex on her?

  Whoever this Dr Carr was, Marcus thought, he was going to have to buy them a big fucking thank you present. He knelt on the floor tiles in front of his wife and pressed his face into her crotch, enjoying the sensation of the sheer material against his skin as he inhaled her musky scent.

  Victoria faked a sigh of pleasure as she felt his tongue flicking under the edge of her panties and pulled the garment to one side exposing herself to him fully, eager to keep him distracted as her other hand reached across the worktop and grabbed the handle of the saucepan. As Marcus ran his tongue between her lips, murmuring his delight at her taste, she brought the base of the heavy pan down hard on the top of his head. He immediately fell to the floor, semi-dazed and clutching at his skull. Victoria hit him again, the sound of metal on bone clanging loudly around the kitchen. This time her husband lay still.

  Adjusting her underwear and pulling her dress back down, she stared at Marcus’s prone body, looking for signs of life. If he was dead then that could not be helped, but he would have died enjoying himself and that was not part of the plan at all. As she continued to watch, Victoria saw his chest rise and fall slowly.

  Good, he was still alive.

  She opened the basement door in readiness and pushed Marcus’s unconscious form across the floor towards it. The tiles were smooth and shiny, making the job much easier than if there had been carpet, but the effort required was pushing at the limits of her strength. She shed her shoes hoping that her bare feet would help her gain more purchase on the floor, and, sweating from her labours she slid him to the top of the basement stairs, gratefully allowing gravity to take over as he bounced and rolled down the steps onto the dirt below.

  Aware that she may not have much time before he came to and not wanting to hit him again, as another blow might certainly finish him off prematurely, she quickly descended the stairs and hurriedly removed all of her husband’s clothes. As she slipped off his boxers, she was distracted by his penis. Now flaccid, she wondered if she would be able to arouse him while he was unconscious.

  Would that even work?

  If so, maybe she would be able to take him inside her? With him unconscious and her being in control…with no condom, so this would be sex purely for procreation and not for pleasure…

  Victoria grabbed her husband’s member and began to masturbate him. Her hand moved slowly at first, worried that she might wake him if she was too forceful, but nothing seemed to be happening. She massaged him faster and harder, but still he remained limp beneath her fingers.

  Perhaps if she…

  The very thought revolted her, sickened her to the core.

  But if it worked…?

  She lowered her head towards Marcus’s crotch, her eyes half closed with disgust, and prepared to take him into her mouth. Just as her lips touched his shaft he gave a murmur. It was too late now, he was starting to come round and she had more work to complete before that happened. Besides, she consoled herself, it was the wrong time of the month – her chances of conceiving would have been slim anyway.

  Victoria grunted and gasped as she heaved Marcus across the dirt to the chains hanging down from the joist and, pulling them down to ground-level, secured the handcuffs around her unconscious husband’s wrists. Grabbing the other end of the steel chains she pulled with all her strength, the pulley through which the chains ran taking some of the strain as she hauled Marcus upright, his wrists bearing most of his weight, his toes only just touching the ground.

  Shedding her dress to keep it clean, Victoria grabbed her ‘discipline’ from its hook on the wall and waited for her beloved husband to wake up.

  ***

  The throbbing in his skull was almost unbearable as Marcus came to.

  Dizzying pain filled his head and his vision swam. Struggling to focus, he felt his stomach lurch and gagged as the taste of hot bile filled his mouth, a spew of vomit spilling down his naked chest.

  He breathed deeply against the pounding in his brain and slowly his vision began to clear.

  Victoria stood in front of him, the dim basement light and his foggy vision rendering her just a shadowy apparition at first but, as his eyes adjusted, his disbelief at what he was seeing was almost enough to distract him from his pain.

  His wife, her face a mask of sheer hatred, stared back at him. Dressed in her black lace underwear, she held what Marcus could only describe as a Cat O’ Nine Tails down beside her leg, its knotted cords dangling in the dirt floor. In spite of the pain in his head, his overactive libido was still firing.

  Was this some kind of BDSM shit? Had she flipped out and gone from frigid to kinky in one step? While Marcus’s common sense found it hard to believe, his cock was perfectly willing to, and rose quickly in expectation. Marcus attempted to grab his penis, stroke himself even harder, but his hand refused to budge. His semi-concussed brain had failed to comprehend his predicament until this moment and now panic set in as he realised he was chained, naked and helpless in his wife’s father’s basement – and the look in Victoria’s eyes was not that of a woman intent on pleasuring him.

  “What’s going on, baby?”

  “What do you think is going on, my darling husband? You are naked and chained up, and I am dressed in sexy underwear - like some kind of filthy slut.”

  “An S and M session?”

  “Marcus – I only have the vaguest of notions of what an ‘S and M session’ entails – but I promise you, that is certainly not what I have in store for you…” She flicked the ‘discipline’ - its knotted ends stirring up a cloud of dust.

  “So…what’s going on then?”

  “I’ll give you a clue. Just one word…a name in fact. Anna!”

  The word hit Marcus hard. His body visibly sagging for a moment, his penis immediately softening.

  “I’ve heard all about your affair, and you know what? I was willing to accept the blame and let you have a
divorce. Just walk away and chalk it up to experience. But then…then I found out that you’d…FUCKED her in this very house…in my bed!”

  Victoria walked behind him and flexed her ‘discipline’, smiling as Marcus twisted and writhed on his chains, trying to turn around to see what she was doing.

  He screamed as the knotted cords struck the flesh of his back.

  “Oh, dear me, Marcus. That was just a tickle, my darling. Just me getting my distance set. I think I need to stand just a few inches closer…and…”

  The cracking of the whip resounded off the brick walls as the knots bit into Marcus’s flesh like the stings of a thousand angry bees. He screamed again, his head sagging forward as his brain registered the difference between this lash and the first.

  “Please, Vic…can’t we just talk this over?”

  “No talking to be done, my darling. I am going to keep on whipping you until I am certain that you will never cheat on me again.”

  “I won’t, Vic. I promise…I’ll never do it again…ever!”

  “Hmm…you misunderstand me, Marcus. When I say ‘until I am certain’ what I mean is, certain – because you’ll be dead.”

  The blood-stained cords ripped into his flesh once more, his screams of agony becoming weaker with every lash until his back was virtually flayed of all its skin, strips of muscle gleaming red in the light, and the dirt beneath his feet stained crimson with blood.

  Victoria stepped round to face her husband. He sagged heavily in his chains, his breaths coming in short gasps as the almost dead-weight of his body constricted his chest muscles, slowly suffocating him. She lifted his head and stared into his glazed eyes. There was little response. She slapped his face hard and saw his muscles stiffen.

  “How are you feeling, Marcus? Do you think you’ve been punished enough?”

  “Please, Vic…please let me go. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Oh I don’t think so, my darling. That pain your experiencing right now…that’s just the appetiser. You can have a few minutes to ‘let it digest’ then we’ll get on to the main course.”

  She walked over to the racks of shelves and fumbled around for a few seconds before holding up a hammer and a box of six-inch nails for Marcus’s dull eyes to comprehend. Laying the ‘discipline’ on her father’s battered workbench she began to carefully hammer nails into each of the knots. When finished she stood back from the bench and cracked the whip towards it. The nails struck the wood, splintered chunks flying through the air.

  “Perfect!” Victoria exclaimed as she turned to face her husband.

  “Oh god, Victoria, please. This has gone far enough…”

  “I’ve already told you how far it’s going to go, Marcus – until you are dead. So…the sooner you die, the sooner it will be over…”

  “Victoria, I’m begging you…I’ll give you a divorce - if that’s what you want - give you half my money. I won’t say a word about any of this, I promise…”

  “I’m sorry, Marcus. But this is where it ends.”

  As the steel nails raked his chest, Marcus’s screams filled the basement.

  “Again, my darling that was just a tickle.” Victoria laughed.

  She stepped forward slightly and cracked the whip-cords against his chest for a second time. The nails bit deep, tearing into his flesh, leaving strips of skin, hanging in bloody ribbons. She closed the gap between them by a few more inches and thrashed him again. The nails clawed deeper still, the razor sharp points stripping away strands of muscle as well as skin, exposing glimpses of the gleaming white ribs beneath. After a few more lashes Victoria had to pause to get her breath back, sucking in huge lungful’s of air as she cast her eyes over her handiwork; Marcus’s chest hung in tatters, his skin was all but gone in places, ravaged pectoral muscles clearly visible and the glint of blood-spattered bone beneath catching the light of the dull bulb. As she recovered from her exertions, Victoria’s attention was caught by the sight of Marcus’s genitals. His penis had shrivelled under the barrage of her ‘discipline’ and the sight of it – pathetic and impotent – raised the anger within her still further. She stepped back a little, adjusting her aim for the next round.

  With a loud crack, the nails ripped into Marcus’s abdomen, tearing away slivers of skin and pubic hair, but his pain-shrivelled genitals remained intact.

  I wouldn’t have missed the stripper’s cock…

  She edged forward an inch closer and let fly with the whip once more. This time she found her mark and squealed with delight as a nail tore down the shortened length of his shrunken penis, tearing the urethra from its fleshy home. She cracked the whip again, a nail impacting his scrotum and sending a testicle, its spermatic cord trailing behind it, flying across the basement, landing with a soft, wet plop in the dirt. She put all her effort into a third attack on his manhood, several nails finding the target and tearing the remainder of his masculinity into blood soaked spaghetti.

  Marcus was sagging once more, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow - the Good Lord blessing him with the gift of unconsciousness. Victoria pondered for a moment whether she should rouse him again, but if God himself had granted him sedation – who was she to question the Almighty’s judgement?

  She stepped up to her mark once more and continued flogging Marcus’s limp torso. The nails peeled away more and more flesh, strips of skin and muscle piling up in a bloodied heap on the ground. As she stared at his wilting body she could sense the end was near. With a renewed strength she set at him again, cracking the nailed knots against his body over and over until, with her energy levels flagging, fatigue setting into her arms, she flung her ‘discipline’ in one final almighty arc. The nails caught behind an exposed rib and Victoria was forced to pull on her whip with both hands in order to break it free. With her full body weight behind it, the rib snapped off from the sternum with a sickening crack, a cloudy flux of blood, muscle, sinew and bone following its expulsion.

  Victoria dropped the ‘discipline’ to the floor and collapsed to her knees, exhausted, spent. She breathed hard and deep for a moment then raised her face to her husband’s withered and raw body, looking for signs of life. Her eyes roved over his ruined torso, the flesh bloody and glistening wet. Taking in the full extent of her revenge, her attention was captured by the sight of his heart, shrouded in its membranous sac, beating slow and subtle through the gap in his rib-cage.

  It was all too neat – he had broken her heart and now, here was his, exposed for her to do with as she willed. She scanned around the basement shelves, looking at the various tools, trying to think of some fitting way to end his life. But Marcus was unconscious, unable to appreciate whatever poetic justice she might think of, and she was tired - just wanting it over and done with. She stretched her fingers slowly between his ribs and wrapped them around his beating heart. As his life pulsed weakly in her hand the gravity of what she was about to do suddenly hit her.

  This must be what God himself feels like. Omnipotent: the power of life or death at your fingertips.

  But the Lord could be merciful too. Would he forgive Marcus his trespasses?

  Should she forgive his trespasses against her?

  She leant towards Marcus’s drooping head and whispered in his ear, “I am the Alpha and Omega…” and as she tightened her grip, warm blood running through her fingers, she felt the power of the Father filling her with his strength, “Fuck off and die!”

  She yanked her hand out from Marcus’s broken ribcage, laughing and screaming hysterically as a fountain of arterial blood sprayed into the air, coating her in a glistening, deep red sheen, liquid life dripping from her hair, soaking her underwear, filling the valley between her breasts. Her husband’s hot, precious blood, running down her skin and soaking into the dirt.

  21

  Victoria released Marcus’s body from the handcuffs and rolled the corpse to the back wall of the basement. Grabbing up the pile of his clothes, and her dress, she took the bundle of garments up to the kitchen, wincin
g under the glare of the brighter light.

  Almost as soon as she ascended the steps from the underground room she felt a vibration emanating from Marcus’s clothes – his phone. She placed the heap of garments on the kitchen worktop and quickly rummaged through his suit jacket to locate the mobile device.

  A text message was displayed on the screen – from Anna:

  Need to see you soon.

  Got exciting news for you XX

  Victoria felt her heart racing, anger boiling in her blood, almost as if this was her first inkling of her husband’s adultery. She scanned through Marcus’s text history, searching for the evidence of their affair, stopping to read certain messages when particular words or phrases caught her eye:

  A - Last night was fantastic.

  Can’t wait to have your cock inside me again X

  A - Been thinking about you all day. My pussy is dripping wet lol XX

  M - Woke up with the scent of your juices on my fingers.

  Stuck them in Victoria’s mouth while she was sleeping lol X

  A - Can’t believe we fucked on Victoria’s old bed. Such a turn on!

  Great idea to video it. I’ve been watching it in the toilet at work while rubbing my clit. XX

  A video?

  They recorded their filthy liaisons for posterity?

  Victoria hurriedly swiped through the Apps on Marcus’s smart-phone, looking for the one that played videos. The Apps were in alphabetical order and she had to swipe several times to get to the last page where the video player was located. She clicked on the icon. Several still frames from various movie clips appeared on the screen.