DNA (fic)
Rating: NC-17 for sex and violence. No candy though. We don't let our whores eat sweets. It rots their teeth
Word Count: 1290
There has always been some sort of debate on how a child learns certain behavior. Is it genetically encoded into their DNA or is there some sort of behavior that they learn while they are young that makes them turn out a certain way. For a long time Jimmy Deakins tried to keep everything he did from his daughter in hopes that it would make up from the genetic grab-bag of violence and sociopath tendencies he had given her in being her father.
Olivia of course remained blissfully ignorant of everything that went on around her for a long time, until she figured out that there was still a portion of the duct work that remained unfinished and that she could fit into. It wasn’t that she was nosy, just curious, and she thought it was awfully funny how her daddy’s voice echoed through the thin metal walls around her. She heard a lot of things, a lot, some surprised her and others connected the pieces that hadn’t made sense before.
Whatever she heard, she kept secret - some of it she could recall easily, others she forgot entirely, because there was no reason for a little girl her age to remember it. It wasn’t until one night when she stumbled upon the mysterious “guest” room that remained closed, even to her. She crawled forward, peeking through the vents into the room so she could watch her father with a woman she had never seen before. That wasn’t surprising, there were many women that came in and out of the restaurant she didn’t know, and then never saw again.
Half of them she knew were whores, at least that’s what the boys called them - and so she took their word for it. The way her father used these whores she had a sneaky feeling that her mother might have been one too - of course she had no proof of it though. That was the one thing that was rarely ever discussed in the house.
She had never actually seen him with one though - had never actually seen her father take off another persons clothes. He helped her get ready for bed, but this looked like he was angry, and she could hear the fabric tearing and the girl below give a little squeak and cry. She couldn’t understand why he was scaring this woman; she didn’t seem to like it, though she started making different noises as soon as his mouth was at her neck and his hand between her legs.
This went on for a few minutes, whenever he moved his head he left bright red marks that bruised a little bit from what she could see. It was then that she realized that he was biting her, and the rougher his bites got the more noise she made. She was sure he didn’t like the noises that the woman made because he hit her across the face and then flipped her over on to the bed. The bites to the whores shoulder and back started to bleed and Olivia could hear her crying on the bed below. It almost compelled her to pull away, to hurry to her bed room and forget about it - but the force that told her to stay put was stronger.
She only could assume what he did to her next would be sex, but she had no real idea. She would hear the boys joke about crude things like blow jobs, fucking, screwing and eating women out - but they wouldn’t tell her anything more about it. Olivia simply assumed that it was all just words for sex, and sex was something that a man and a woman had when they really liked each other. It was something chef told her and it seemed to make sense to her - however she didn’t think that her daddy liked this woman, or care much about her because she was crying and screaming louder then anything Olivia had ever heard.
Her dad however seemed to enjoy it, and she watched him move over the woman, thrusting into her - his chest shiny with sweat, and his scars standing out against his torso. She wiggled in the vent, holding her breath in fear that he would look up and magically see her hiding from him. He didn’t though, he made no other noises besides grunts and growls, and certainly none of those indicated that he knew she was up there.
The show was getting almost boring besides the growing heat around her and between her legs as she watched her father grab for his pants. He took out a long switch blade that she had seen him use once or twice when they went to the beach or out the country house for a weekend. He told her that it wasn’t a play thing and she must never touch it, he had told her that he had got his scars from stupid men playing around with knives when they shouldn’t have. She wondered what he was going to do with it there, he didn’t have to cut anything like a piece of loose thread. It didn’t take long for her to find out what he needed to do with it.
He cut the whores back, and she screamed - bucking like a wild horse - trying to dislodge him as he made a snarl that sent a shiver down Olivia’s back. He cut her twice more, before he shoved himself down on top of the writhing whore - and he rubbed against the blood that spilled down her back and coated his chest. Olivia could smell it in the vent, and the scent of it made her eyelids droop, and her tongue flick out to wet her lips. Deep in the back of her mind a little voice whispered what he was going to do next, but she didn’t want to listen to it - she didn’t want it to be right, to give away the end of the movie.
But it was right, she watched her father cut the woman’s throat, and the spray hit the bed covers, pillows, and headboard of the bed. He gathered a hand full of the blood and spread it over his face and shoulders while the woman twitched and wheezed under him, her legs twitching as she bled out on the bed. After a few more thrusts, her father finished and a wave of heat and pleasure hit Olivia, something she hadn’t felt before - but it made her body twitch and her eyes roll back into her head as the walls around her got brutally hot. Biting her bottom lip she stayed despite the heat, her eyes half opened as she watched her father stare down at the dead whore and then wipe his blade on his arm - leaving a long smear of blood over his bicep.
When he walked out to the bathroom, she finally backed out of the ducts and quickly hurried to her bed room. She had no idea what had just happened but it had felt good, and despite the threat of being caught and the beating she knew she would get if she was caught - she wanted to see it again. Eyes shut tight, she pretended to be asleep - and waited for her father to come in and check on her. He never came, on nights she witnessed him go into the room - he never did.
Word Count: 1290
There has always been some sort of debate on how a child learns certain behavior. Is it genetically encoded into their DNA or is there some sort of behavior that they learn while they are young that makes them turn out a certain way. For a long time Jimmy Deakins tried to keep everything he did from his daughter in hopes that it would make up from the genetic grab-bag of violence and sociopath tendencies he had given her in being her father.
Olivia of course remained blissfully ignorant of everything that went on around her for a long time, until she figured out that there was still a portion of the duct work that remained unfinished and that she could fit into. It wasn’t that she was nosy, just curious, and she thought it was awfully funny how her daddy’s voice echoed through the thin metal walls around her. She heard a lot of things, a lot, some surprised her and others connected the pieces that hadn’t made sense before.
Whatever she heard, she kept secret - some of it she could recall easily, others she forgot entirely, because there was no reason for a little girl her age to remember it. It wasn’t until one night when she stumbled upon the mysterious “guest” room that remained closed, even to her. She crawled forward, peeking through the vents into the room so she could watch her father with a woman she had never seen before. That wasn’t surprising, there were many women that came in and out of the restaurant she didn’t know, and then never saw again.
Half of them she knew were whores, at least that’s what the boys called them - and so she took their word for it. The way her father used these whores she had a sneaky feeling that her mother might have been one too - of course she had no proof of it though. That was the one thing that was rarely ever discussed in the house.
She had never actually seen him with one though - had never actually seen her father take off another persons clothes. He helped her get ready for bed, but this looked like he was angry, and she could hear the fabric tearing and the girl below give a little squeak and cry. She couldn’t understand why he was scaring this woman; she didn’t seem to like it, though she started making different noises as soon as his mouth was at her neck and his hand between her legs.
This went on for a few minutes, whenever he moved his head he left bright red marks that bruised a little bit from what she could see. It was then that she realized that he was biting her, and the rougher his bites got the more noise she made. She was sure he didn’t like the noises that the woman made because he hit her across the face and then flipped her over on to the bed. The bites to the whores shoulder and back started to bleed and Olivia could hear her crying on the bed below. It almost compelled her to pull away, to hurry to her bed room and forget about it - but the force that told her to stay put was stronger.
She only could assume what he did to her next would be sex, but she had no real idea. She would hear the boys joke about crude things like blow jobs, fucking, screwing and eating women out - but they wouldn’t tell her anything more about it. Olivia simply assumed that it was all just words for sex, and sex was something that a man and a woman had when they really liked each other. It was something chef told her and it seemed to make sense to her - however she didn’t think that her daddy liked this woman, or care much about her because she was crying and screaming louder then anything Olivia had ever heard.
Her dad however seemed to enjoy it, and she watched him move over the woman, thrusting into her - his chest shiny with sweat, and his scars standing out against his torso. She wiggled in the vent, holding her breath in fear that he would look up and magically see her hiding from him. He didn’t though, he made no other noises besides grunts and growls, and certainly none of those indicated that he knew she was up there.
The show was getting almost boring besides the growing heat around her and between her legs as she watched her father grab for his pants. He took out a long switch blade that she had seen him use once or twice when they went to the beach or out the country house for a weekend. He told her that it wasn’t a play thing and she must never touch it, he had told her that he had got his scars from stupid men playing around with knives when they shouldn’t have. She wondered what he was going to do with it there, he didn’t have to cut anything like a piece of loose thread. It didn’t take long for her to find out what he needed to do with it.
He cut the whores back, and she screamed - bucking like a wild horse - trying to dislodge him as he made a snarl that sent a shiver down Olivia’s back. He cut her twice more, before he shoved himself down on top of the writhing whore - and he rubbed against the blood that spilled down her back and coated his chest. Olivia could smell it in the vent, and the scent of it made her eyelids droop, and her tongue flick out to wet her lips. Deep in the back of her mind a little voice whispered what he was going to do next, but she didn’t want to listen to it - she didn’t want it to be right, to give away the end of the movie.
But it was right, she watched her father cut the woman’s throat, and the spray hit the bed covers, pillows, and headboard of the bed. He gathered a hand full of the blood and spread it over his face and shoulders while the woman twitched and wheezed under him, her legs twitching as she bled out on the bed. After a few more thrusts, her father finished and a wave of heat and pleasure hit Olivia, something she hadn’t felt before - but it made her body twitch and her eyes roll back into her head as the walls around her got brutally hot. Biting her bottom lip she stayed despite the heat, her eyes half opened as she watched her father stare down at the dead whore and then wipe his blade on his arm - leaving a long smear of blood over his bicep.
When he walked out to the bathroom, she finally backed out of the ducts and quickly hurried to her bed room. She had no idea what had just happened but it had felt good, and despite the threat of being caught and the beating she knew she would get if she was caught - she wanted to see it again. Eyes shut tight, she pretended to be asleep - and waited for her father to come in and check on her. He never came, on nights she witnessed him go into the room - he never did.