The Siren


My stepfather was a man of God.

"I can't help doing this to you," he said.  "It is the evil
inside you that makes me do this."

#

In the years to come, he appeared in my nightmares.  Always,
I would awaken aroused and ashamed in sheets damp with sweat.

#

His eyes were wild, feverish.

"Take off your clothes."

He fingered the leather thongs on the whip.

#

A boy once asked me why I wouldn't go out with him.  I said
I didn't deserve him.

Hours later, in bed, he held me in his arms, whispered that it
wasn't true.  I didn't argue, said nothing.  A breeze blew in
the darkness of the room and the curtains billowed.  Outside,
the wind howled softly through the branches of the trees.

I refused to see him again.

#

My stepfather tapped the whip against the palm of his hand.

I knelt, naked, on the hard wood floor and pressed my thighs
together.  The cool air made my nipples ache and tighten.
The moon lit the room in an even glow that allowed no shadows.

I recounted my sins aloud and asked for forgiveness.

#

At school, my mind wandered and I did poorly.  I masturbated
in the bathroom in between classes.

#

"Count to ten," he said.

The lash fell between my shoulder blades, a sharp sting.
The sensation pooled in my sex.  I squeezed my legs together
to ease the ache.

"One," I whispered.

#

I was caught shoplifting.  The store owner spoke to my
stepfather.

"She is a spoiled child -- she needs discipline."

#

"Do it," he said.

My left hand moved to my sex.  I was already wet.  Two fingers,
moving in and out.

He put the handle of the whip in front of my lips.

I opened my mouth.

#

I slept around.  The boys tried to taunt me, called me a slut.
They only confirmed that I was who I thought I was.

#

Later, face down on the floor, I felt his weight press down
on me.

His cock began to open my ass.  The muscles cramped around him.
He pressed harder.

"The devil's child," he said.

My hands turned to claws, scratched the floor.  The head of
his cock slipped in, and the pain became unbearable.

"Yes, take it," he whispered.

His breath warmed the back of my neck.

#

Somewhere far away, a young woman with my name was crying, but I
only felt the obscene pleasure of his cock thrusting up my ass.

#

I only slept with the boys I hated.  That was what I deserved.

#

The boy was my age, fifteen.  I knelt, took him in my mouth.

He was a virgin, but one day he would be a man like my
stepfather.  He would sleep with other women, make them long
for his hardness.

I felt him spurt into my throat, strong and salty.  At that
instant, I felt I had a certain black power over him, not
entirely unlike love.

#

I wanted to get married, have a normal life, but I knew it
was denied to me.  Instead, I slept with married men.

#

Another nightmare: my stepfather burned me with a cigarette,
but instead of pain I felt sexual pleasure.  He burned my clit,
and I orgasmed.

#

Another lover, fucking my ass.  I felt his pubic hairs press
against my buttocks.

I felt stuffed, it was too much, and I moaned.

"Yes, take it," he whispered.

My orgasm took me by surprise.  I slipped my hand between my
legs, felt myself pulsing.

"You are so beautiful right now," he said.

#

I got a job, my own apartment.  My stepfather tried to get
me fired.

"You can't leave me," he said.  "You will never leave me."

I saw a hint of pain in his eyes, and I smiled.

#

I met Adam in a health food store.  Wholesome, husband material,
thick forearms and a tight rear end.

I asked him out, slept with him on our first date.  For a while,
I stopped having nightmares.

#

I knew I would wound Adam terribly.  I had to save him from
myself.

I started picking fights, showing up late to our dates, but
that only made him love me more.

"I want to save you," he whispered.  He clung to me like a
martyr seeking his own death.

#

I started seeing other men.  I went to Adam with my sex still
wet with their semen.

He struck my face, pulled down my jeans, forced his way into
my anus.

"Whore," he shouted.  And then, softly, "I love you."

"I love you, too," I whispered.

He started crying, great heaving sobs.

#

It became a ritual between us.  I would sleep with a man,
then go to Adam.

"Fucking whore," he said.  He fucked my ass and hit me.

But it was too much for him.  He couldn't sleep, started having
nightmares, and so did I.

I knew I had to end it.

I called my stepfather, asked him to come a few minutes before
Adam would be home from work.

#

My stepfather's cock pushed into my anus.  I started crying;
I knew how much it would hurt Adam.  "Hurt me," I said.
"I deserve it."

"Count to ten," he said.

The whip fell across my back.  I cried out in pain.  "One."

Adam entered the room.

His eyes turned glassy, wet.  Without a word, he turned and
ran away.

"You can't leave me," my stepfather said.  "You will never
leave me."

#

I got up, went to the bathroom.  I found Adam's razor blades
and took one.

Slowly, while my stepfather watched, I carved Adam's name into
my arm.

My stepfather left, and I never saw him again.

#

The years passed.  I slept with countless men, and a few women.
I knew little about them, and they knew nothing about me.
Sometimes, they were curious enough to ask about the scars on
my arm, but more often then not, they did not notice.

A handful, fooled by the illusion of love, pursued me; in
honor of my memories of Adam, I left them quickly.

But the nightmares remained.  I dreamed about Adam making
fierce and tender love to me.  Just before my orgasm, his
face would turn into my stepfather's face.  He would whip me,
fuck my ass, and I would come, crying.


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