Message-ID: <22206asstr$947380200@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: Mr Slot Lines: 129 X-Original-Message-ID: Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit NNTP-Posting-Date: 8 Jan 2000 06:08:45 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Jessie {Mr Slot} (Mf pedo rape caution) Date: Sat, 8 Jan 2000 20:10:00 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, newsman The following is a work of fiction consisting of adult concepts and possibly sex. Do not read if you are not legally permitted. I don't want the police on my front doorstep. You are welcome to read but please don't distribute without my permission. Feel free to make any comments to the author. Send E-Mail to dalech33@hotmail.com This story uses a combination of story telling styles. I hope it works. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Inspired by The Siren by Margie Donnadieu If you havn't read it then do so. It is brilliant. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jessie. Short, sharp pain One finger dies Moonlight glints on metal Jessie cries The young girl hides under the blankets of her bed. Her former sanctuary betrays her now. Her quiet sobs echo in her ears under the mountains of warmth. She should be safe here. But she is not. The monster has found her sanctuary, has violated it. She is no longer safe here. She is no longer safe anywhere. Sobs rack her small, delicate body once more. Slick fingers grip the life giver Sharp pain once more Moonlight is dulled The circle is completed If only she was bigger, stronger. If only she knew the right incantation. If only she knew the right chant that would stop the monster. But she doesn't. She knows it is futile. It is a very adult thought for a six-year-old girl. Hands turn in the dark Eyes search for perfection Matching bracelets Life giver falls Jessie had a little brother. Tommy was only four when the monster came for him. Sweet, innocent little Tommy. His cheeky gap-toothed grin always shone with a radiance that defied the horror around him. Jessie misses him so much. He seemed to fill a gap within her. Now he was gone, and the gap is back. Slowly turning Falling Striking the concrete Sound tinkling in her ears "Why does he hurt us so Jessie?" "He is a monster Tommy. It is his nature." "Doesn't he love us?" "Monster's can not love." "Will someone save us?" "No." Tongue darts Lapping Tasting The taste of pain Tommy died on a Sunday. Birds sang. Dogs barked. Cats slumbered in the sun. Jogger's jogged. Lover's loved. People prayed to a God with no mercy. Tommy lay in her arms, gazing at her with eye's that could no longer see. Blood seeped from his ears and dripped on his Whinnie the Pooh pyjamas. Heart beats Pain throbs Fists clench Life ebbs faster Tommy was layed to rest on a Tuesday. The grown ups told her that it was a terrible, terrible accident. Jessie knew better. She knew the monster took him. That night she hid in her sanctuary, her breathing shallow. She heard her bed room door open. Heard its footsteps on the carpet. The blankets pulled back and the monster stood above her. Tired Head droops Back slouches Arms fall to her sides "I miss him too." "You killed him." "It was an accident." "You killed him." "Please give me what I want." She rolls onto her stomach and waits for the pain. Memories Mummy Daddy Tommy She feels the monster pull down her pyjama bottoms. His big, rough hands roam over her tiny bottom. She feels moisture on her back and knows without seeing that it is saliva. The monster always drools when he does this. She feels her legs parted. And then the pain comes. Sunny days Cool nights Warm summers Cold winters Incredible pain. A knife of jagged glass rips her open, tearing through her spine. She feels her blood start to mix with the sheets and screams into her pillow. The monster pushes down on her, forcing her deeper into her so-called sanctuary, making a mockery of it. It grunts once, twice, then spills it's seed into her. It turns her over and kisses her lightly on the forehead. She looks but sees nothing. And then she is alone again. The gap within her grows. Life dissipates One last breath She says its name "Daddy" Satan Clause, he's out there, and he's just getting stronger. --- Bruce Willis, The Last Boyscout. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+