Needles 2

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

This is a flash story. And a very unhappy story at that.

*.*.*

She lay on the filthy motel mattress, stomach cramping horribly. Her girlfriend had left an hour, maybe two or three hours ago to try to score.

Maybe it was only ten minutes ago. The light through the grimy window did not indicate whether it was late in the morning or late in the afternoon.

The cramping seemed to grow in intensity. She then felt a cool breeze suddenly sweep over her sweaty flesh; someone had entered the room, letting in the October air.

She didn't look up to see if her girlfriend had come in; she couldn't seem to pull her head up.

Then she heard a muffled scream and some thumps. She heard a thud, followed by another thud, then heard a groan.

And then he was there.

"Hey, Sugar Boo," Daddy said in his gravelly voice.

She looked up, then closed her eyes.

"Baby, you should have known I would find you," he crooned, pulling her filthy red hair away from her ear.

He kissed her ear, even though she stunk from not having bathed in days.

"I always do," he crooned.

"Daddy, I hurt," she wined.

"I know, Sugar Boo, and I got it right here," he soothed and held up a small plastic bag.

"Can I have..." she begged.

"Why sure you can," he said, unzipping his uniform trousers.

She was in no mood to suck his sweaty, urine tinged cock, but he held up the small bag and she opened her mouth and swallowed his cock.

"Yeah, you always were good at this," Daddy chuckled as he fucked her face.

Soon he was grunting and pumping his slimy semen into her mouth.

"Swallow, Daddy likes when his little girl swallows," he said.

Then he was fixing her a syringe and she eagerly grabbed the needle and shoved it in.

"Good, Baby?" he asked as she sighed.

"Yeah," she moaned as the cramps eased.

"Cops know who's got the good shit," he chuckled.

She managed to sit up in the bed now.

"Want some more?" Daddy asked.

"No, no, I'm cool," she said.

"Not now, for later," he chuckled.

"Huh? Oh! Oh yeah, I'm want me some more," she agreed.

"Put on some pantyhose, huh?" Daddy asked.

He leaned against the headboard.

"You know Daddy likes his baby girl in pantyhose," he said.

"Daddy, shit, I don't even know..." she protested.

"Hey Baby?" he asked, pulling a plastic grocery bag from behind his back.

He pulled out a package of cheap pantyhose.

"Ta-dah!" he said and they both chuckled.

She stripped out of her tee shirt and blue jeans and eased the pantyhose up her painfully thin legs.

Then she marched back and forth, showing off her pantyhose covered pussy, pantyhose covered ass.

"Come here, Sugar Boo," he ordered as his cock began to swell.

She crawled back onto the bed and knelt in front of him.

She closed her eyes as she felt the bed sag behind her. Then his rough, calloused hands were pulling down her pantyhose to just underneath her bony buttocks.

She fought down her nausea when she heard him spit and felt the spittle strike her flesh, just above her tightly clenched anus.

That glob of spittle was the only lubricant he used as he jammed his cock into her bowels.

She gasped in pain as he roughly jammed his entire length into her protesting rectum.

Then he was steadily, forcefully fucking her, sodomizing her.

Then he bellowed and pumped his semen into her.

He used her tee shirt to wipe his soiled cock clean and dropped the garment onto the floor.

For several long moments, father and daughter sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

"How's uh, how's Mom?" she finally asked.

"Hmm? Oh, she's all right," he said.

"And uh, Clarissa?" she choked out.

"Oh, she's good, she's good," Daddy said, smiling. "Yeah, Mommy, you'd be proud of your little girl. God! She's so pretty! Got that long red hair like you, got them beautiful blue eyes."

He kissed her on the top of her head, even though her hair was matted, greasy.

"Yeah, and smart too; got all as last report card," Daddy said.

He chuckled again.

"And loves her Daddy," he said. "That's what she calls me, calls me Daddy."

"Gets up in my lap and I tickle her," Daddy went on. "Like I used to do with you, remember? You used to love getting your tickles."

She had hated it. Dreaded it. Daddy would tickle her without mercy.

Then when she reached eighteen, on her eighteenth birthday, he had tickled her. Pulled her onto his lap and tickled her.

"Baby Girl, you getting too old for tickles," he murmured.

And then there was a horrible pain. And she was bleeding. There was a horrible burning in her crotch and she was bleeding from her crotch.

He let her drink some of his whiskey and that did kill some of the pain. Then she stole some of Mom's pills and that killed some of the pain.

She didn't bleed the next time Daddy pulled her into his lap, but it still hurt, it still burned.

And it took more of his whisky, more of Mom's pills to kill the pain.

Then she discovered marijuana and that almost made the pain bearable. But it did nothing to kill the shame.

"Daddy?" she suddenly whimpered.

"Yeah, Baby?" he asked.

"Daddy, I think it's time," she said quietly.

"Think it's... You sure, Baby?" Daddy asked.

"Yeah, Daddy, I... I just can't keep going like this," she admitted.

"Be right back, Sugar Boo," he promised.

She heard a groan as Daddy closed the motel door.

She looked over the side of the bed and saw her girlfriend, her lover laying on the floor in a puddle of blood and vomit. There was no light in her girlfriend's eyes, just raw pain.

Daddy came back into the room.

"Reported this stolen, God, what? Three years ago?" he chuckled as he handed her a snub-nose .32 pistol.

"Daddy, I'm scared," she admitted.

"I know, Baby Girl, I know," he soothed.

He sat on the bed again. He eased his aching, throbbing cock out of his police uniform trousers.

"You, you'll hold my hand?" she begged.

"Baby Girl!" he said, cock twitching. "Would I ever let you do this without me?"

She took the gun in her left hand, using the two remaining fingers to balance the gun.

She'd shot up some bad dope, had gone too far with the needle and had actually killed the nerve. Two days later, as her thumb, ring, and pinky fingers were turning black, she had gone to St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center.

There, the unsympathetic ER doctor simply amputated the junkie's fingers, gave her some Tylenol and sent her on her way.

Now, she balanced the gun in her left hand and brought it to her mouth.

"Just suck on it like it's a cock," Daddy chuckled, stroking his erection. "Then pull the trigger and, Baby? There'll be no more pain. You'll never have to use drugs again. You'll never have to fuck mother fuckers for dope ever again."

"I love you, Daddy," she said and again put the gun in her mouth.

"Oh and I love you too," he groaned, close to ejaculation.

The look of shock on his face almost made her giggle.

He had not expected her to pull the gun out of her mouth at the last second and put two bullets into his grinning face.

Then, dressed in only pantyhose, she walked out of the dank, foul smelling motel room, down the rickety metal steps, and into the lobby.

"Madre Dias!" the clerk screamed, seeing the bone thin red head enter the lobby, carrying a pistol.

"Call the cops; there's been a murder in room two oh three," she said then sat down on the floor of the lobby.

At first, it took forty minutes for the first squad car to arrive at the unnamed motel. But the moment they determined that one of the two victims in Room 203 was one of their own, the other four police cars arrived within minutes of each other.

"I did it for Clarissa," was all the bone thin red head said when the nine police officers surrounded her in the lobby of the motel.

She handed over the pistol, and allowed an officer to drape a blanket over her nearly nude form.

"I did it for Clarissa," she repeated when she was read her rights.

THE END

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you for reading my stories.

Have a swell day.