akari inori

She sits on the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide. Volo sits between her legs, on the floor, humming softly as she braids his hair. Her eyes are closed - there's hardly any light in the basement anyway, so they've learned how to exist in the dark.

Cynthia is on the mattress beside her, and Indigo's jacket is wrapped around her - she's been down here the longest, so she needed the warmth more than Indie did. Indigo gets taken out every other day, after all. And she gets rewards like the jacket regularly. So it's okay if she gives it to Cyn. She'll have another chance - her big sister won't.

Soon, Volo's hair is fully braided - now, it's hanging just above his waist rather than all the way down to his knees. Indigo ties it off with a band from around her wrist, and claps twice, smiling. She signs *all done* against her brother's cheek, not wanting to break the silence, and he nods, leaning against her leg.

She presses herself down, her arms folding around his shoulders, and puts her chin on his head. She rocks back and forth softly while he hums.

After a few minutes, he gently removes her hands, then slowly moves to the mattress, pulling Indigo's jacket off of their sister and handing it back to her before wrapping himself around Cyn from the back, folding himself over her to replace the coat. "In case Father comes," he whispers to Indigo. Cynthia shifts, whimpering in her sleep, and Indigo's throat and chest tighten, her cheeks burning and her shoulders hot, while she forces herself to nod and wrap the jacket back around herself.

While the other two fall into a light sleep, she stays up, undoing and redoing her braids, staring at her fingers in the dim light, and when all else fails, opening the Book of Sinnoh to read by the lamplight. Time passes, though she's not sure how long.

She's five chapters in when a click startles her out of her daze, but not out of her exhaustion - she's been awake for a very long time now, watching over her older siblings and making Father happy so he doesn't hurt Cyn. She closes the book and forces down a yawn, standing from the mattress and smoothing down her old, ratty nightgown skirt. It's full of holes, but that's fine. Everyone in this house has seen what's down there anyway - she's not really ashamed anymore.

She sees Father descending the stairs, cast in the dim light of the laundry room as he makes his way down. His eyes flit over Volo and Cynthia holding each other on the bed, but Indigo steps forward and lets herself yawn. He turns to her, attention snapping to her tiredness, and steps forward.

His hands grab her braids and he pulls, and she cries out, keeping it as soft as possible so the other two can keep sleeping. "Look at me," Father growls, but she forces her gaze down and keeps it on the floor, on her toenails, the pink polish that Mom applied during one of her lucid days when Father couldn't hurt them already chipping away from walking on concrete floors so much.

After a moment of her staring at the floor, his grip relaxes slightly, and her shoulders drop a millimeter. "Good girl," he mutters. "Now, come." He turns, leading her out of the basement by her braid. She follows, a dog on a leash - a bitch, specifically.

He pulls her up the stairs, closing the door and locking it. It's covered by a painting, so it's unnoticeable unless you know what to look for. She doesn't. No matter how many times she's been up into the main part of the house, she's never looked up from the floor before Father has her where he wants her. She's not supposed to be more than a doll - she's not supposed to see. So she doesn't. It's what the Creator made her for.

Father takes her through the halls, up the stairs, her feet finding the familiar path comforting even as she dreads the pain she's going to go through in a moment. Father always hurts her, but... He calls her good. He says she's special. So she smiles through it. He doesn't hurt her as much as the other two, after all. Doesn't loan her out to the church to break her. He keeps her all to himself. The thought gives her some peace even as Father locks the chains around her wrist, lowering her head to the pillow and pulling off her jacket.

His hands, warm after the cold basement, trace over her thighs. She immediately feels colder in the rest of her body, her nipples doing the weird stiff thing that happens when she gets chilly. Father hums, moving one of his hands to rest on her chest, thumb idly tracing her erect nipples through the thin fabric of the nightgown. She squirms a bit, but the hand still on his legs slaps her thigh, and she squeezes her closed eyes tighter, nodding once.

He sighs, then stands. She hears the zipper of his pants and the slide of leather against denim - he's going to whip her today... She bites her tongue to keep from crying out, but a small whimper escapes anyway, so she switches to the inside of her cheek, biting down as hard as she can without breaking flesh.

There's a scraping sound as the button on his jeans hits the hardwood floor, and a scuffling as he turns back to her. One hand reaches out, his wide palm and slim fingers grabbing the hem of her nightgown and pulling it up so her tummy is bare - she didn't have panties on, so the entire expanse of scarred skin is visible. A scabbed-over cut from three days ago starts to itch, but she focuses on the parts that don't and forces herself to disconnect from the itchy skin so that she doesn't try to fight the restraints to get at it. If she does, Father will just punish her more.

He snaps his belt, and despite her best efforts, she flinches. His laugh echoes through the room but it's not happy - it's satisfied. It makes a deep feeling settle in her gut and lungs. She wants to disappear.

But he brings down the whip on her, and the burning pain erases everything else as her teeth clamp down on her mouth, tearing through flesh as she prevents herself from yelping. Her legs spread, muscles tightening at the impact. Her father's voice, unmistakable, cuts through it all - "Whore." He laughs again, and whips her again.

She's not sure what's happening, but it hurts. She doesn't want it to hurt. Her hands don't hurt, so she becomes her hands. They're still, held in place by the shackles, and they don't get hit. People see her hands. They never get hit.

When she feels safe enough to come back to being her body again, she's being stretched out by Father's penis inside of her. It's more than she's felt before, but that's okay. She's been working on fitting more in - Cynthia and Volo can both fit inside her now. So it doesn't hurt as much to fit this much of Father's erection anymore. She presses up into his warmth, and he slaps her hip. She bucks up, pushing another inch of him inside. His hairs are tickling the soft skin of her privates, now, and it's the only thing that feels gentle about this entire experience.

That clearly wasn't the reaction Father wanted, though - he squeezes her hip and pushes it back down the inch she forced into herself. Then, he makes a disapproving sound. "You know you're a whore for wanting it," he scolds. "Don't be a whore or I'll have to punish you. And I don't want to punish my special girl."

She nods. He pulls back his hips a little, before shoving himself in another inch and a half - deeper than before. She yelps softly, then bites her lip, shaking her head-

But Father is already shoving the belt between her teeth. "Don't wake your mother," he warns. "If you can't control your noises, then I will." Tears come to her eyes as she bites down on the leather. He wipes them away, his calloused thumb brushing across her cheek.

Then, he starts to rock back and forth, slowly at first, but getting faster. In and out, just like they've practiced. She stays still, not letting her muscles tighten but keeping them relaxed. Heat floods through her but she ignores it, ignores the pulsing in her gut as he thrusts into her.

She loses control the same way a glacier starts to move - slow, then faster, then all at once. First, it's her flower. It tightens around Father, and he groans, grip tightening on her hips as he goes faster. Next, her thighs squeeze, and she tries so hard to relax. But as she tries to relax, everything just tightens.

Last, it's her entire self. She feels Father filling her, feels him spilling inside her, the sticky white liquid that comes out of him warming her from the inside, and she moans around the belt as her whole body shudders. This earns another slap from Father, but the pain makes her tighten even more, leading to another wave of pleasure as she relaxes fully. She can feel him thrusting in a few last times, and squeezes around him, pulling out the last drops of cum.

When his penis finally leaves her cunnie, she lets her head fall to the side and opens her mouth. The folded-up belt falls onto the mattress and she pants as she catches her breath without anything to restrict it now. Father takes the belt - she feels it lifted from the mattress beside her, and moves her head towards the movement.

After a moment, Father's hand finds her head, and he pets her. Her lips softly curl into a smile, and she presses into him, humming happily. "My special girl," he murmurs. "You really need to work on ridding yourself of your wants... You know you don't matter, right? Your purpose is not to want, but to fulfill the wants of the one who owns you..."

She nods, desperately wanting to open her eyes and look at him. He's always so pretty when he's talking about her. His face gets soft and tight, like he's worried. It makes her feel fuzzy and warm inside. But if she opens her eyes, he might scold her, and that would be no good. She doesn't like being scolded. It makes her feel small.

After a moment, she hears a couple of clicks and feels the locks around her wrists open. Father pulls her nightgown down, bringing her hands to her sides. His grip on her wrists is warm and firm, and she likes it.

He slides an arm under her neck and pulls her to a sitting position, then pulls her into his chest so that her forehead is resting against him. She squeezes her eyes tight as he strokes her hair. "You're going to be such a good little one for me once you're fully trained," Father tells her, and she nods. She wants to be! She loves her Father - he only wants what's best for her. And he only loves her. She likes being special - as a triplet, and the youngest one, too, she's so often considered as one of three. But Father treats her as her own person. She likes that.

He lifts her onto his lap, and tilts her chin up. "Indigo," he says. His voice is light. "Look at me, love." She perks up, forgetting all about the pain on her stomach as she opens her eyes, taking in the sight of her father's face. The stubble on his chin, his long hair pulled into a bun, his forehead beaded with sweat.

She tilts her head, and he laughs. This time it's real, and her heart skips a beat at the sound. He leans down to kiss her forehead, and she smiles. "Father... I love you," she whispers.

"Good girl," he says. "I think you've earned your bed tonight."

She fights her widening smile as he picks her up, standing to carry her to the bedroom that she should share with her siblings - but that, tonight, is all her own.