Little Lamb
“Dear Delia”
Chapter 1
Once upon a time, a girl fell in love with a man. He tied her to a chair the day he took her virginity, and she had been fucked ever since.
That night was Christmas Eve. In a house full of relatives, secret Santas, mistletoe, and eggnog, he dressed up as Santa, and I wore a red dress and striped socks to be Santa’s girl, just like we always did.
Except this year, I had slutty lingerie under my innocent Christmas dress. I found them under my stepmother’s pillow earlier that day, where he’d discreetly hidden them.
My lips? They were the rich, berry red he liked. And when I went into the room to blow out the candle, I caught him pressing a hand to his crotch with a bit of desperation, as if he’d been thinking about my mouth blowing something else all night.
The flame flickered.
The room dimmed.
I blew that candle thinking about the same thing while my stepmother lifted her instant camera and took a photo of me looking at him, sealing the moment in frame.
A few seconds later, he came to my side with the perfect fatherly smile on his face, his Santa hat tilted to the side. He pressed a hand on the knife to cut the piece, while the other reached behind me.
My face flushed almost immediately.
“Don’t think I didn’t see you sneaking into Delia’s room this morning,” his voice clipped, edged with warning. “I taught you better than to be a thief.”
My hand trembled, dropping the match. I bit my lip, bending over to pick it up. While I did, he gripped my butt cheek, his fingers brushing the smooth fabric of my red dress.
When I stood up, his fingers had slid underneath my dress, his knuckles gliding lovingly up my thigh.
“Did your stepbrothers see you?” he said in a cold whisper, his eyes raking over our relatives.
“I don’t know,” I murmured.
He clenched my thigh—it almost hurt.
Then his hand left.
My heart dropped at the absence, but before I could do anything about it, a sharp but muted smack landed on my cheek, dragging a moan from my tight lips.
“Did your stepbrothers see you?” he asked again.
“No, Daddy,” I panted, with my knees pressed together, breath stuttering, my core simmering under his touch.
“Are you going to return it?” he asked.
“Return what?” My voice trembled.
“What you’ve stolen.”
His eyes landed on the red lingerie sticking out from my innocent Christmas dress, tightly wrapped around my breasts, ripe but still untouched.
My chest rose and fell.
“Make me…” I whispered, breathless.
He leaned in but didn’t speak. His breath dragged across the back of my neck, heavy but measured.
His knuckles climbed up my thigh, inch by inch.
My breath halted. My heart raced.
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