Dawn saw, for the first time, that he had no toenails. As Dawn straightened her back, she sniffed and French-kissed his semi-erect penis, on her way back up. Now standing before him again, she handed the bar soap to Reuben. When she did so, he briefly feared that she was trying to subtly hint at something.
“Would you do the honors, Daddy?” she asked, in her irresistible, adolescent voice.
As Reuben took his time thoroughly washing and scrubbing her envied body of lust, Dawn gently closed her ocean-blue eyes, and thought to herself how far she had come, since first meeting him. Though she had behaved like a promiscuous harlot, she had never removed any article of clothing that wasn’t absolutely necessary to accomplish the dirty deed. So, though there were many horny men who came to know her in the biblical sense, none had ever seen her in her full birthday suit, other than him and her degenerate father. Though she had lived like a slut for so long, she had remained inhibited in certain ways…that was until now. Whether anyone knew it or not, Dawn was repulsed by being a whore, but she was used to it and had accepted that it was expected of her. Even though she had been around the block more than her share, she wasn't proud of it and never had any feelings behind it that weren’t nauseating. Reuben had been the first and only one, besides her biological Daddy, to completely see her in the full flesh…and the only one to be up her ass. Reuben knelt down behind her, and washed her delicious ass, with his sudsy hands. He had brought a washcloth to the shower with him, but hadn’t used it on her, as it would take away from the fun of showering with his one true love.
“Slap me some skin, Daddy?” she asked him.
“What?” Reuben questioned her, not sure what she meant by her request, and not wanting to assume anything when he may be wrong.
“Spank me,” she promptly cleared up any misconception or misunderstanding. “Since you’re down there, give me a good slap on the ass. You know you want to,” she added seductively.
Though this tempted Reuben to an extent, he didn't wish to do anything that had the potential of hurting her, and couldn’t live with accidentally messing it up or hitting her too hard, and therefore scaring her away and losing his one and only chance at love.
“Spank me, Daddy,” she insisted. “It’s alright. You won't break me.”
Though she had gone beyond the call of duty to prove her irrefutable love for him, Reuben still couldn’t get past how easy she was on the eyes, and how bewildered he was to be the lucky recipient of such undying, unconditional love. He wasn’t complaining, by any means, but just couldn’t understand how she could choose to give her priceless love to a beast like him.
Once Reuben had cleaned Dawn, so meticulously that one could eat off of her, she graciously returned the favor, pleasing him by devoting particular and scrupulous attention to his penile section. Before long, the two lovers were embracing again, holding each other as tight and as close as humanly possible, as if it were quite literally their last chance to do so. Dawn was only 5’7,” to Reuben’s six-foot-three stature, so her head rested on his chest, which he didn’t exactly mind. He continued holding her for as long as he could, while the showerhead kept spraying warm water on their naturally heated bodies. Eventually, the water temperature began to go frigid, which was their cue to go back to bed and warm each other up by other means.
“I’ll go first,” Dawn said. “Listen for me.”
“My hearing isn’t that good, baby,” Reuben responded. “My vision, unfortunately, isn’t so reliable these days either.”
Reuben could see her well enough, but he kept the fact that he was legally blind, to himself. His eyes worked, but not nearly as well as he would have liked. He often had to squint to see, especially when trying to read. His vision was blurred, and was much worse on certain days, or first thing in the morning. The only time he could see fairly well was in the dark, which somehow worked better for him.
“No, sweetheart,” she said, “I meant listen for me here,” she repeated, as she reached up and gently tapped the middle of his forehead. “We’ve spoken telepathically before, Daddy. Our special connection is obviously much stronger and deeper than we think.”
“Okay,” Reuben nodded in compliance, “but I think we’ve connected more here,” he said as he gently touched her in the center of her chest, right between her youthful and ample bosom.
Dawn smiled fondly at her magic man, before making her way back to her room. She could see that the staff nurse, stuck with the graveyard duty, had returned to her desk, but that she had once again chosen to join her shift mates on catching up on some indubitably deprived sleep. Once Dawn was theoretically safe in her room, she psychically summoned her beloved Reuben. He was once again keeping and enjoying her company, mere minutes later. Without even having to ask, the two intimate strangers began slow dancing, to music that wasn’t actually playing and that only they could hear.
“Are you going to take me to a night club, when we get out?” she asked him.
“I suppose that’s a possible option,” he answered. “Just as long as we don’t stay out too close to sunrise. My skin can’t handle prolonged exposure to the solar radiation.”
“I’d like to boogie with you sometime, at a roller disco or something,” she said, “I think that would be pretty groovy. Or, not…honestly, it wouldn’t matter what we’d do or where we’d go…just as long as we are together.”
“Dawn,” he said, “I should really get back to my own room now. We don’t want to risk being seen mauling each other like this. I don’t know how many strikes we’re going to get before Nurse Carl manifests his wrath in ways we’d rather not be around to see…or worse, not be able to recover from. If anything bad ever happened to you, and I wasn't there to…I…I don’t know what I…”
“I know,” she agreed, touched that he loved her that much. “I know, Daddy. I can dig what you’re saying. Just hold me for a few minutes, while I fall asleep. Please, Daddy,” she begged, showing her sweet but addictive co-dependency even further.
“I’m pretty tired too,” he admitted. He remembered how he would sleep through the day, and how it was the only time that he could dream of a different and better life...one where he wasn’t abundantly cursed and forsaken by God, and not afflicted with permanent sickness, ugliness, inadequacy, isolation and rejection. Those days were over now, and he only had her to thank. He was undeniably dependent on her love, for his very survival.
Reuben accommodated her wishes and laid with her in the hospital bed, which was strangely significantly more comfortable than the one he had been given to sleep on. He had every intention of retiring to his own room, the second he felt Dawn begin to dose off. However, much like how truck drivers convince themselves that they can stay alert through fatigue, Reuben was only setting himself up for a rude awakening.
“You’re not inadequate,” she said, successfully reading his mind. “You’re not ugly. You’re not alone anymore, and for what it’s worth, I need you, Daddy. I’m very dependent on you...and I certainly will never reject or replace you.”
Little did Reuben realize that he had good reason to worry about losing her, as lightning never struck twice. Dawn, unlike most young women, actually meant her vows and had no selfish or deceptive agenda behind them. Being so close to her like this, they couldn’t abstain from making out again, as if it were second nature at this point to submit to the irresistible temptation. Going at it like a pair of sex junkies, they impatiently removed each other’s clothes, like rabid dogs in heat, and Reuben slipped inside of her…this time entering her bloody vagina. Dawn remained on her back this time, while Reuben experimented with the classic missionary position, which was highly appropriate, considering the words to come out of his mouth shortly thereafter.
“Oh god…oh god…I’m sorry, baby” Reuben told her, as his breath grew faster and heavier. “But since our first time together, all I can ever think about is scoring with you.”
“It’s okay, Daddy,” she said, “I want to be your end zone. Jump
my bones, Daddy,” she begged. “Let me get on top though,” she asked; now breathing as heavily as her male suitor. “I want to ride you. I want to sit on it,” she pleaded, like a stoner who desperately needed a fix.
“No,” Reuben immediately denied her, “The only thing you’re allowed to ride is my face. You’ll get it from behind, or this way, but I’ll be the one taking control,” Reuben said, while he playfully reached up and squeezed her mouth, pushing her pouty lips together in a vertical way.
Starting off slow and gentle, he progressively got faster and harder. He wanted so badly to savor the feeling and hold in his cum, to prolong the duration of the intercourse, but she didn’t make it very easy. As he pounded away at her wet pussy, like there was no tomorrow, the shaking of the mattress pushed out her silver flask, which she had been keeping underneath. Reuben heard it hit the stone floor, but continued making love to her, until they inevitably came together this time. As the sweaty Dawn continued moaning and panting from their mutual climax, Reuben, who was also perspired, rolled over to the edge of her bed, and reached down to the floor with his arm.
“What’s this?” he asked her, showing her the flask he now held in his hand.
“I haven’t taken a swig since we...Well, since you sodomized me,” she lied, embarrassed to have her self-destructive vice discovered, by the last person she wanted to find out.
“Look, Dawn,” Reuben started, in a soothing voice, “I’m not judging you, hun. I’d be a hypocrite if I did. I mean, the way I crave you, could very easily and fairly be called an addiction. We all have them. Just, please, don’t let it drown you. You’re so young yet…and you shouldn’t be touching this stuff. I’m not judging you, I’m just worried about you.”
“I know, Daddy,” she said. “I know you’re worried about me, but I’m okay. I appreciate your concern though. It makes me feel warm inside to know that you care so much about me.”
“I just don’t want to lose you,” he said, “especially to something like terminal liver damage.”
“You won’t, I promise,” she pledged, unsure herself if she could really keep that oath, “I just used the liquor to numb the pain.” Hearing herself say this, she realized that her reason…though honest and justified…wasn’t painting her in such a good light.
“You don’t have to feel pain anymore,” he told her, “You have me now. I’m here for you baby, if you’ll just let me in.”
“I know,” she said, “and you are in.”
Dawn took the silver flask from his hand, and rolled him back on his back. She put the flask under her pillow, in hopes that he would somehow magically forget that he even saw it. She positioned herself next to Reuben, so that she was lying on her stomach, and her face was over his shoulder. Using her hand to take his arm and lift it over his head, she began licking his armpit, lapping it like a dog. Reuben was staggered by this, but didn’t do anything to stop her. As obscurely taboo as this was, it was actually pretty kinky, and felt oddly pleasurable.
“I should have done this before the shower,” she said, astounding him even more. “You would have tasted better.”
“I wish I had a dozen red roses,” Reuben told her, “If I did, I would pick off all the pedals and spread them all over your bed, before lying you down on it.”
“Wow,” she said, overcome with his thoughtful romantic gesture, “Though I appreciate the sweet sentiment, Daddy, I’m kind of glad you don’t have those red roses.”
“Why?” he asked. “Too much?” he inquired; worried that maybe he had tried too hard or taken things too far somehow.
“No. It’s not that. It’s really very sweet that you even want to do that for me, but...I’m highly allergic to roses. I’m deathly allergic to them. It’s actually quite a nightmare. I break out in hives, and swell up, and if it’s untreated for too long, I eventually can’t breathe. Last time I came into direct contact with red roses, my parents had to rush me to the local Emergency Room.”
Reuben got very comfortable with her on the bed, and let Dawn rest her head on his bare chest, as she looked down at his blood soaked penis. Reuben stroked her hair this time, while she twirled and played with the scraggly hairs that were sprawled out on his white chest.
“Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” she asked, eager to know all she could about him, and as soon as possible, as if their days together were numbered.
“When I was young, I never left the house,” he told her. “I couldn’t. It was more dangerous for me out there than it was living under my parents roof.”
“Were you home schooled?” she asked, not sure she understood what he meant.
“Not quite in the way you’d expect. I got an education, but it wasn’t an academic one. My parents were ashamed of me. My mother often told me that she wished she had lost me in a miscarriage. She’d stand by, and look the other way, while my father beat me mercilessly with his leather belt. He’d put these black leather gloves on, tie my wrists with barbwire, and then wallop on my body, taking out the anger on me that he felt for himself, for having such a hideous son. My mother used to watch him pulverize me, and then while I laid there bleeding, she’d lay a wooden crucifix on my chest or sprinkle my body with ‘blessed water’ that she would steal from our church, and tell me she’d pray for me. They were committed Catholics, and believed me to be some sort of curse from God, as punishment for their past unforgiven transgressions. They didn’t even have to pawn me off as being a scooby, since they knew I’d never leave the cellar. There were crucifixes hanging on the walls, throughout the house, even down in the basement, where I spent most of my life. My parents also verbally crucified me for wearing black all the time. Yet, they were the ones to buy my threads, since I couldn’t venture outside and take care of myself. I was a burden, because I was too dependent on them, for my needs. The most color I’ve ever worn was the faded blue on my hand-me-down denim. They made me feel like there was something wrong with me, because I was drawn to darkness, when it was God who made me this way. They were also the ones who put black light bulbs in the cellar.”
“Why didn’t you runaway?” she asked him.
“I thought about it, even fantasized about it, but it just wasn’t in the cards. My blood disorder made life significantly difficult. It’s what makes me look like this. It also makes me dangerously sensitive to ultraviolet rays. My father was prone to skin cancer, and was always back and forth to the doctor to have it removed. My mother was anemic. It didn’t take much effort for her to hurt herself, and when she bled, she bled quickly and profusely. Because of this, she was very dependent on my father for nearly everything. My mother was never faithful to my father, but he didn't really care as long as she continued to come home to him. She was physically lush, but cold around the heart. He was financially wealthy, as a successful criminal attorney.”
“Is your condition fatal?” Dawn asked him, worried that his illness may take him from her. “I mean...is this...will this condition of yours get worse?”
“From what I’ve read about porphyria, there’s a good chance that, the longer I live with this, the higher the odds that I will eventually have to resort to drinking blood, just to keep me sane, and breathing,” Reuben answered.
“You would never hurt me,” Dawn said, trying to convince them both of her wishful thinking.
“Of course not,” he reassured her. “If it ever gets to the point of no return, we’ll find a way to live with it. I just might need you to trap small animals for me,” Reuben said with a smirk, trying to make light of the subject, and ease her concern. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he said, trying to veer the emphasis back on her, “what makes your body hair the way it is?”
“I have what’s called Hypertrichosis, also known as the Ambras Syndrome. Some cases happen to the person later in life. Mine was congenital. This disorder is more often found in males, and only in rare cases found in females. Mine is also highly unusual, because in most cases, the person isn’t affected in the pubic region, b
ut is affected in the face. It’s the exact opposite in my situation. Thank God for small favors, huh?”
“God hasn’t done either one of us any favors. You said, in group, that you believe you’re here because you assaulted someone?” he began. “Why here, instead of jail? I mean no offense. I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer, if...”
“No, it’s okay,” she said, “They say it was the way I went about it. I chased the guy, and pounced on him. They found severe scratches and deep cuts on his body. I also bit him in the neck, which was what landed him in the ER. The doctor who gave me the psychiatric evaluation diagnosed me as suffering from lycanthropy?”
“Lycanthropy? The fictional disease that causes one to become a werewolf?”
“Actually,” Dawn said smiling, “Lycanthropy is originally an ancient medical term, used to describe a mentally ill person who believes, in their delusional state, that they can transform into an animal.”
“Do you believe that you can change shape, and become an animal?” Reuben asked.
“I don’t think I can change shape, but I think I’ve proven to you that I can be an animal...at least in bed, right?”
Reuben smiles, and nods his head, as if to blush.
“It’s just a label, sweetie,” she added. “Let them think what they want. People will believe what they want. It doesn’t mean that it has to affect us or our life.”
“I don’t care what people think of us,” he confirmed.
“Good,” she said, relieved to hear that.
“I do care, however, that you are fooling around with other men. If you’re going to be with me, I need to know that you will be mine, and mine alone.”
“Reuben, that’s my past,” she said swallowing her saliva in shame and regret. “When you took me on my bed that first time, that all changed. You don’t have to worry about another man snaking me from you. I’m yours, and only yours. Nothing and nobody will ever come between us…I promise. You have my infinite devotion. I belong to you, Daddy, as long as you want me.”
Dawn's Tale Page 10