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Kesi had never not been with her mother or brother. In the four years, her brother was at the circus and she was not, she had her mother by her side every day. In the four years, she was in the circus, either her brother or mother was around. There was never, not once, a time they both had left.
But in the early hours of the morning papa tasked them with something that would take them away from the circus until the next day. Kesi was not happy. She wished to go with them, but instead, she got slammed with meaningless tasks after meaningless tasks. Her mind felt numb and her body felt exhausted by the time the sun was setting and the moon was rising. For once, though, the work was not so bad as to leave her muscles aching. And after work was done, Kesi got to play. Delia made sure to spend time with Kesi, knowing that she would feel lost without her mother or brother. The drummers beat joyously on their drums while the people of the circus ate together. They laughed, they talked, they had a good time. The Liu sisters were squabbling over a move for their next set, performing one after another to raucous applause.
Kesi almost forgot the time. She jumped to her feet, food half-finished as she sprinted to go prepare her father’s tea. In all the fun she had forgotten her brother, her mother, her father and just… lived in the moment. She knew she would get hit for being late, but Kesi was expecting that anyway. He fished for any reason to hurt her. It would be over quickly, at least, and Kesi would be able to return to the party before anyone missed her. Today was a good day despite her two favorite people in the world, the two people she dependent on most, not being around. Some hitting wouldn’t be enough to ruin it. And after the party she still had to care for the snakes, her father never allowing her time to truly take care of them as part of her work at the circus. It had to be in her free time, never when he required her to do something. And he always required her to do something…
Kesi took a deep breath, ridding herself of her smile she had just moments ago. She didn’t want her father to think she was late simply because she was enjoying herself… even if that was a fact. A lie would be easier. Rekhmire asked for assistance with some venoms. Short, simple, not entirely implausible. And Papa liked Rekhmire, much more than he liked Kesi. (Which to be fair, wasn’t a hard thing to achieve.)
Kesi entered the tent, keeping her gaze down to the floor. She very quickly placed the tea in front of him as she always did. “I’m sorry for being late, papa.” She murmured, before heading to her corner where she sat on her knees, butt on her heels, as she always did. Her head was bowed to the ground. Kesi thought back to the last time she was late. It was only a few cracked ribs, nothing she couldn’t handle. And her father was younger then. Five minutes, ten tops before she was dismissed and could rejoin the others in the festivities.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Kesi had never not been with her mother or brother. In the four years, her brother was at the circus and she was not, she had her mother by her side every day. In the four years, she was in the circus, either her brother or mother was around. There was never, not once, a time they both had left.
But in the early hours of the morning papa tasked them with something that would take them away from the circus until the next day. Kesi was not happy. She wished to go with them, but instead, she got slammed with meaningless tasks after meaningless tasks. Her mind felt numb and her body felt exhausted by the time the sun was setting and the moon was rising. For once, though, the work was not so bad as to leave her muscles aching. And after work was done, Kesi got to play. Delia made sure to spend time with Kesi, knowing that she would feel lost without her mother or brother. The drummers beat joyously on their drums while the people of the circus ate together. They laughed, they talked, they had a good time. The Liu sisters were squabbling over a move for their next set, performing one after another to raucous applause.
Kesi almost forgot the time. She jumped to her feet, food half-finished as she sprinted to go prepare her father’s tea. In all the fun she had forgotten her brother, her mother, her father and just… lived in the moment. She knew she would get hit for being late, but Kesi was expecting that anyway. He fished for any reason to hurt her. It would be over quickly, at least, and Kesi would be able to return to the party before anyone missed her. Today was a good day despite her two favorite people in the world, the two people she dependent on most, not being around. Some hitting wouldn’t be enough to ruin it. And after the party she still had to care for the snakes, her father never allowing her time to truly take care of them as part of her work at the circus. It had to be in her free time, never when he required her to do something. And he always required her to do something…
Kesi took a deep breath, ridding herself of her smile she had just moments ago. She didn’t want her father to think she was late simply because she was enjoying herself… even if that was a fact. A lie would be easier. Rekhmire asked for assistance with some venoms. Short, simple, not entirely implausible. And Papa liked Rekhmire, much more than he liked Kesi. (Which to be fair, wasn’t a hard thing to achieve.)
Kesi entered the tent, keeping her gaze down to the floor. She very quickly placed the tea in front of him as she always did. “I’m sorry for being late, papa.” She murmured, before heading to her corner where she sat on her knees, butt on her heels, as she always did. Her head was bowed to the ground. Kesi thought back to the last time she was late. It was only a few cracked ribs, nothing she couldn’t handle. And her father was younger then. Five minutes, ten tops before she was dismissed and could rejoin the others in the festivities.
Kesi had never not been with her mother or brother. In the four years, her brother was at the circus and she was not, she had her mother by her side every day. In the four years, she was in the circus, either her brother or mother was around. There was never, not once, a time they both had left.
But in the early hours of the morning papa tasked them with something that would take them away from the circus until the next day. Kesi was not happy. She wished to go with them, but instead, she got slammed with meaningless tasks after meaningless tasks. Her mind felt numb and her body felt exhausted by the time the sun was setting and the moon was rising. For once, though, the work was not so bad as to leave her muscles aching. And after work was done, Kesi got to play. Delia made sure to spend time with Kesi, knowing that she would feel lost without her mother or brother. The drummers beat joyously on their drums while the people of the circus ate together. They laughed, they talked, they had a good time. The Liu sisters were squabbling over a move for their next set, performing one after another to raucous applause.
Kesi almost forgot the time. She jumped to her feet, food half-finished as she sprinted to go prepare her father’s tea. In all the fun she had forgotten her brother, her mother, her father and just… lived in the moment. She knew she would get hit for being late, but Kesi was expecting that anyway. He fished for any reason to hurt her. It would be over quickly, at least, and Kesi would be able to return to the party before anyone missed her. Today was a good day despite her two favorite people in the world, the two people she dependent on most, not being around. Some hitting wouldn’t be enough to ruin it. And after the party she still had to care for the snakes, her father never allowing her time to truly take care of them as part of her work at the circus. It had to be in her free time, never when he required her to do something. And he always required her to do something…
Kesi took a deep breath, ridding herself of her smile she had just moments ago. She didn’t want her father to think she was late simply because she was enjoying herself… even if that was a fact. A lie would be easier. Rekhmire asked for assistance with some venoms. Short, simple, not entirely implausible. And Papa liked Rekhmire, much more than he liked Kesi. (Which to be fair, wasn’t a hard thing to achieve.)
Kesi entered the tent, keeping her gaze down to the floor. She very quickly placed the tea in front of him as she always did. “I’m sorry for being late, papa.” She murmured, before heading to her corner where she sat on her knees, butt on her heels, as she always did. Her head was bowed to the ground. Kesi thought back to the last time she was late. It was only a few cracked ribs, nothing she couldn’t handle. And her father was younger then. Five minutes, ten tops before she was dismissed and could rejoin the others in the festivities.
Layla was old news.
The mother of Somgi's child was well past the point of her utility, always delving deeper and deeper into the shakes and lies that ruined what had once been something adjacent to love for her. As age slowly robbed the woman of her beauty, Somgi used some of the profits of his circus to pursue his pleasures, chasing the lofty peaks of intoxication and the heady, carnal pleasure that came with filling worthless whores with his seed.
But, in the early hours of the morning, there were no whores prowling around the circus. The ringmaster was still awake from the night before, red-rimmed eyes squinting under the terrible light of a rising sun. Sleep wouldn't come so easily to the man, who had steeped a tea made from special leaves imported from lands so very far to the west that the name was unintelligible to the Coptic tongue. But, he didn't care what the ooga booga people were called, they found a good score and it was exactly what Somgi of Cairo needed.
He felt the delightful chill roll up and down his spine, his mind abuzz with the countless tasks that needed doing in the Tempest of Set. Of course, he wouldn't help any of the lowlives that worked under him, merely barking orders at slaves and performers alike. It was exactly the way things should be, and Somgi licked his lips in anticipation of a day under the thrall of his lacking inhibitions. Layla was sent away on menial tasks in the town, groceries for their next travel and the boy, Amenemhat, was instructed to help her. Neither of them need be present for what Somgi had in store for the day.
The bitch, Kesi, was all that was left of his psychotic little family on the grounds. If she could even be called that. She was an impostor, a facsimile of his real daughter, a girl he'd never had the opportunity to bury. For years, he'd made a whipping post of her, little more than a slave for him to command and shoo away. He wasn't quite sure how many years he'd had the girl in his house, leeching off the disaster that was Layla's unidentified ailment. But, once she came to the circus, she was an eyesore among a collection of winners.
With so much to prove, it would be impossible for the young woman to satisfy his desires. Or... was it? He supposed he'd find out. The ringmaster had his way with some of the performers, but the power trip that'd come with pushing his fake daughter over that ledge... it was something he couldn't help. He'd watched her grow from a tiresome child to an equally tiresome, but rather attractive young woman. So, he'd have his taste and see how she was.
With his intentions in mind, he called his false daughter over to his tent. She entered his tent, falling to her knees in a corner, whimpering her pathetic apology. The man was finishing another cup of mixed tea, feeling the rush of sleepless intoxication course through his stomach and through his blood. His lips were curved into a practiced smile.
His free hand lowered, intent upon grasping the girl's exposed breast, rough and calloused hands paying no mind to his use of force as he told her,
"Stand up."
"Were you late? I hardly noticed," he said, never once looking at the girl up until the moment he drew closer. He'd keep his gaze trained at the crown of her head as he reached down, intent upon curling his digits about Kesi's throat as he said,
"In any case..."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Layla was old news.
The mother of Somgi's child was well past the point of her utility, always delving deeper and deeper into the shakes and lies that ruined what had once been something adjacent to love for her. As age slowly robbed the woman of her beauty, Somgi used some of the profits of his circus to pursue his pleasures, chasing the lofty peaks of intoxication and the heady, carnal pleasure that came with filling worthless whores with his seed.
But, in the early hours of the morning, there were no whores prowling around the circus. The ringmaster was still awake from the night before, red-rimmed eyes squinting under the terrible light of a rising sun. Sleep wouldn't come so easily to the man, who had steeped a tea made from special leaves imported from lands so very far to the west that the name was unintelligible to the Coptic tongue. But, he didn't care what the ooga booga people were called, they found a good score and it was exactly what Somgi of Cairo needed.
He felt the delightful chill roll up and down his spine, his mind abuzz with the countless tasks that needed doing in the Tempest of Set. Of course, he wouldn't help any of the lowlives that worked under him, merely barking orders at slaves and performers alike. It was exactly the way things should be, and Somgi licked his lips in anticipation of a day under the thrall of his lacking inhibitions. Layla was sent away on menial tasks in the town, groceries for their next travel and the boy, Amenemhat, was instructed to help her. Neither of them need be present for what Somgi had in store for the day.
The bitch, Kesi, was all that was left of his psychotic little family on the grounds. If she could even be called that. She was an impostor, a facsimile of his real daughter, a girl he'd never had the opportunity to bury. For years, he'd made a whipping post of her, little more than a slave for him to command and shoo away. He wasn't quite sure how many years he'd had the girl in his house, leeching off the disaster that was Layla's unidentified ailment. But, once she came to the circus, she was an eyesore among a collection of winners.
With so much to prove, it would be impossible for the young woman to satisfy his desires. Or... was it? He supposed he'd find out. The ringmaster had his way with some of the performers, but the power trip that'd come with pushing his fake daughter over that ledge... it was something he couldn't help. He'd watched her grow from a tiresome child to an equally tiresome, but rather attractive young woman. So, he'd have his taste and see how she was.
With his intentions in mind, he called his false daughter over to his tent. She entered his tent, falling to her knees in a corner, whimpering her pathetic apology. The man was finishing another cup of mixed tea, feeling the rush of sleepless intoxication course through his stomach and through his blood. His lips were curved into a practiced smile.
His free hand lowered, intent upon grasping the girl's exposed breast, rough and calloused hands paying no mind to his use of force as he told her,
"Stand up."
"Were you late? I hardly noticed," he said, never once looking at the girl up until the moment he drew closer. He'd keep his gaze trained at the crown of her head as he reached down, intent upon curling his digits about Kesi's throat as he said,
"In any case..."
Layla was old news.
The mother of Somgi's child was well past the point of her utility, always delving deeper and deeper into the shakes and lies that ruined what had once been something adjacent to love for her. As age slowly robbed the woman of her beauty, Somgi used some of the profits of his circus to pursue his pleasures, chasing the lofty peaks of intoxication and the heady, carnal pleasure that came with filling worthless whores with his seed.
But, in the early hours of the morning, there were no whores prowling around the circus. The ringmaster was still awake from the night before, red-rimmed eyes squinting under the terrible light of a rising sun. Sleep wouldn't come so easily to the man, who had steeped a tea made from special leaves imported from lands so very far to the west that the name was unintelligible to the Coptic tongue. But, he didn't care what the ooga booga people were called, they found a good score and it was exactly what Somgi of Cairo needed.
He felt the delightful chill roll up and down his spine, his mind abuzz with the countless tasks that needed doing in the Tempest of Set. Of course, he wouldn't help any of the lowlives that worked under him, merely barking orders at slaves and performers alike. It was exactly the way things should be, and Somgi licked his lips in anticipation of a day under the thrall of his lacking inhibitions. Layla was sent away on menial tasks in the town, groceries for their next travel and the boy, Amenemhat, was instructed to help her. Neither of them need be present for what Somgi had in store for the day.
The bitch, Kesi, was all that was left of his psychotic little family on the grounds. If she could even be called that. She was an impostor, a facsimile of his real daughter, a girl he'd never had the opportunity to bury. For years, he'd made a whipping post of her, little more than a slave for him to command and shoo away. He wasn't quite sure how many years he'd had the girl in his house, leeching off the disaster that was Layla's unidentified ailment. But, once she came to the circus, she was an eyesore among a collection of winners.
With so much to prove, it would be impossible for the young woman to satisfy his desires. Or... was it? He supposed he'd find out. The ringmaster had his way with some of the performers, but the power trip that'd come with pushing his fake daughter over that ledge... it was something he couldn't help. He'd watched her grow from a tiresome child to an equally tiresome, but rather attractive young woman. So, he'd have his taste and see how she was.
With his intentions in mind, he called his false daughter over to his tent. She entered his tent, falling to her knees in a corner, whimpering her pathetic apology. The man was finishing another cup of mixed tea, feeling the rush of sleepless intoxication course through his stomach and through his blood. His lips were curved into a practiced smile.
His free hand lowered, intent upon grasping the girl's exposed breast, rough and calloused hands paying no mind to his use of force as he told her,
"Stand up."
"Were you late? I hardly noticed," he said, never once looking at the girl up until the moment he drew closer. He'd keep his gaze trained at the crown of her head as he reached down, intent upon curling his digits about Kesi's throat as he said,
"In any case..."
He smiled.
The smile was fake, Kesi knew that. Her father didn’t smile. He wasn’t a happy, kind man. If he did smile, it was never towards Kesi. She was used to his anger, his scorn, his disgust. Even if it was practiced, having to smile in front of a crowd and the different members of the circus, when it was directed towards Kesi it was… unnatural and wrong.
It was odd when his hand wrapped around her breast. Kesi’s mind, that seemed to always be moving at a rapid pace, slowed to a complete stop. What? She didn’t react. She didn’t push the hand away. She didn’t wince at his firm grasp. She just froze, unsure as to how to react.
Stand up. She heard his voice but her mind was still stalled. That was, at least, until his hand was around her throat. Kesi was afraid of her father. She didn’t like pain. But it had been a long time since he brought an involuntary tremble from the girl. Her legs worked while her mind remained frozen, lifting from the floor with her father’s hand rising with her.
This wasn’t normal. He hadn’t slapped her yet. He hadn’t kicked her ribs. He just… did something that made Kesi very uncomfortable.
Another shudder reawoke the girl’s mind. One hand raised to her father’s grip on her throat. It wasn’t constricting her airway, but it very much could. Once her father released her breast, the other arm went to cover them. She… didn’t like his grip near them. At all.
He hadn’t looked at her until he was close. That should have made Kesi feel small, but it was his gaze when he was close that succeeded in that. Her own eyes dropped down to the small space between them. Her cheeks tinged pink and she naturally took a step back fighting against his grip until she had managed to free herself. She took a second step back, and her other arm joined the first, crossing themselves over her chest.
Kesi always had a desire to run when she was in her father’s presence, and in fact, she had tried in the past. It only took a few harsh beatings to teach her that running would only add to her problems. But her father just seemed so… unusual this time. Every instinct was telling her to run. But… where would she even go? She had… no one to run to. No mama, no Nem, nobody.
She was alone.
A third step now, and then a fourth. They were slow and steady as if sudden rapid movement might spook him. Just as slow, she raised her eyes back to her father, breath hitching for a moment when she recaught his gaze, “Papa, if you didn’t notice then… maybe I wasn’t late. Maybe I was good…” Fifth… sixth…
“If that is all, may I return back to the circus?”
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He smiled.
The smile was fake, Kesi knew that. Her father didn’t smile. He wasn’t a happy, kind man. If he did smile, it was never towards Kesi. She was used to his anger, his scorn, his disgust. Even if it was practiced, having to smile in front of a crowd and the different members of the circus, when it was directed towards Kesi it was… unnatural and wrong.
It was odd when his hand wrapped around her breast. Kesi’s mind, that seemed to always be moving at a rapid pace, slowed to a complete stop. What? She didn’t react. She didn’t push the hand away. She didn’t wince at his firm grasp. She just froze, unsure as to how to react.
Stand up. She heard his voice but her mind was still stalled. That was, at least, until his hand was around her throat. Kesi was afraid of her father. She didn’t like pain. But it had been a long time since he brought an involuntary tremble from the girl. Her legs worked while her mind remained frozen, lifting from the floor with her father’s hand rising with her.
This wasn’t normal. He hadn’t slapped her yet. He hadn’t kicked her ribs. He just… did something that made Kesi very uncomfortable.
Another shudder reawoke the girl’s mind. One hand raised to her father’s grip on her throat. It wasn’t constricting her airway, but it very much could. Once her father released her breast, the other arm went to cover them. She… didn’t like his grip near them. At all.
He hadn’t looked at her until he was close. That should have made Kesi feel small, but it was his gaze when he was close that succeeded in that. Her own eyes dropped down to the small space between them. Her cheeks tinged pink and she naturally took a step back fighting against his grip until she had managed to free herself. She took a second step back, and her other arm joined the first, crossing themselves over her chest.
Kesi always had a desire to run when she was in her father’s presence, and in fact, she had tried in the past. It only took a few harsh beatings to teach her that running would only add to her problems. But her father just seemed so… unusual this time. Every instinct was telling her to run. But… where would she even go? She had… no one to run to. No mama, no Nem, nobody.
She was alone.
A third step now, and then a fourth. They were slow and steady as if sudden rapid movement might spook him. Just as slow, she raised her eyes back to her father, breath hitching for a moment when she recaught his gaze, “Papa, if you didn’t notice then… maybe I wasn’t late. Maybe I was good…” Fifth… sixth…
“If that is all, may I return back to the circus?”
He smiled.
The smile was fake, Kesi knew that. Her father didn’t smile. He wasn’t a happy, kind man. If he did smile, it was never towards Kesi. She was used to his anger, his scorn, his disgust. Even if it was practiced, having to smile in front of a crowd and the different members of the circus, when it was directed towards Kesi it was… unnatural and wrong.
It was odd when his hand wrapped around her breast. Kesi’s mind, that seemed to always be moving at a rapid pace, slowed to a complete stop. What? She didn’t react. She didn’t push the hand away. She didn’t wince at his firm grasp. She just froze, unsure as to how to react.
Stand up. She heard his voice but her mind was still stalled. That was, at least, until his hand was around her throat. Kesi was afraid of her father. She didn’t like pain. But it had been a long time since he brought an involuntary tremble from the girl. Her legs worked while her mind remained frozen, lifting from the floor with her father’s hand rising with her.
This wasn’t normal. He hadn’t slapped her yet. He hadn’t kicked her ribs. He just… did something that made Kesi very uncomfortable.
Another shudder reawoke the girl’s mind. One hand raised to her father’s grip on her throat. It wasn’t constricting her airway, but it very much could. Once her father released her breast, the other arm went to cover them. She… didn’t like his grip near them. At all.
He hadn’t looked at her until he was close. That should have made Kesi feel small, but it was his gaze when he was close that succeeded in that. Her own eyes dropped down to the small space between them. Her cheeks tinged pink and she naturally took a step back fighting against his grip until she had managed to free herself. She took a second step back, and her other arm joined the first, crossing themselves over her chest.
Kesi always had a desire to run when she was in her father’s presence, and in fact, she had tried in the past. It only took a few harsh beatings to teach her that running would only add to her problems. But her father just seemed so… unusual this time. Every instinct was telling her to run. But… where would she even go? She had… no one to run to. No mama, no Nem, nobody.
She was alone.
A third step now, and then a fourth. They were slow and steady as if sudden rapid movement might spook him. Just as slow, she raised her eyes back to her father, breath hitching for a moment when she recaught his gaze, “Papa, if you didn’t notice then… maybe I wasn’t late. Maybe I was good…” Fifth… sixth…
“If that is all, may I return back to the circus?”
She backed away. She covered herself. Was the little doppelganger catching on to what he wanted from her? He didn't need to hide it, the intention within his cursory gaze, the movement of his hands as he kneaded her breast and felt the delicate thump of her pulse. How it waxed, the rhythm growing faster and faster, as if her veins would tear from her throat, or her heart from her chest. How he might've lamented that, to be robbed of the thrill he was after. The girl's life? It meant nothing to him, and burying her... it would be a relief.
She wrenched herself from his grip, the strain a wear through his palm and along his forearm. He flexed his fingers, clenching the hand into a fist. It was difficult to control the strength of his grip. The years wore on, and he found that using less force, balancing between keeping the girl's airway open and feeling her pulse... He seethed, not audibly, but there was a shudder that moved his shoulders when she backed away, She took two steps back. He bridged the difference. She took another two, and he let her have them.
Dark eyes met the cross of her arms around her chest, only rising when she let began to speak. Their gazes met, and her dismissive little question elicited a low laugh from his lips. His strides were longer than hers. Where she took seven steps, he need only take five. He shook his head,
"You? Good?" he began, but he did not punctuate the question with elaboration. No, he took his swing, intent on crashing the back of his hand to the right side of her jaw. Then, towards the table he used for the odd bit of writing he needed to do. There was nothing there, now. No papers, no nibs or tools. He'd ordered everything taken away and packed for when they were due to leave. The show was going on, with the slaves scattered. No one would hear this girl scream for very long. But, he'd ensure it.
"Good for nothing," he added, just as both hands moved to shove her, intent on having Kesi hit the table. He joined her soon after, nails digging into the flesh of her shoulders, raking at the paint, letting it cake underneath his fingertips as he sought to rend it from her flesh. Angry red lines might bloom tiny streaks of crimson in their wake.
"May I return to the circus?" he mocked, shifting his focus once again. One hand raked those nails along the flesh of her thigh, intent on meeting the pleated fabric of the circus skirts. Ripping these fabrics was always a shame, expensive as they were. But...
Rip. Undone and torn in a vertical path, the garment would fall, with Somgi's grip clinging to a sliver that he brought up to Kesi's mouth.
"Shut up," he said pre-emptively, applying pressure with his free hand. Somgi of Cairo sought to pin the doppelganger to the surface of the table, with his legs leaning on her own, his hand ripping away the defense of fabric as he used a sliver for...
"Open your mouth. Stay quiet," he demanded. If she failed to obey, he'd wring the life from her until she did. The dark pebbles of his irises reflected none of the torchlight, showed no hints of mercy within them.
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She backed away. She covered herself. Was the little doppelganger catching on to what he wanted from her? He didn't need to hide it, the intention within his cursory gaze, the movement of his hands as he kneaded her breast and felt the delicate thump of her pulse. How it waxed, the rhythm growing faster and faster, as if her veins would tear from her throat, or her heart from her chest. How he might've lamented that, to be robbed of the thrill he was after. The girl's life? It meant nothing to him, and burying her... it would be a relief.
She wrenched herself from his grip, the strain a wear through his palm and along his forearm. He flexed his fingers, clenching the hand into a fist. It was difficult to control the strength of his grip. The years wore on, and he found that using less force, balancing between keeping the girl's airway open and feeling her pulse... He seethed, not audibly, but there was a shudder that moved his shoulders when she backed away, She took two steps back. He bridged the difference. She took another two, and he let her have them.
Dark eyes met the cross of her arms around her chest, only rising when she let began to speak. Their gazes met, and her dismissive little question elicited a low laugh from his lips. His strides were longer than hers. Where she took seven steps, he need only take five. He shook his head,
"You? Good?" he began, but he did not punctuate the question with elaboration. No, he took his swing, intent on crashing the back of his hand to the right side of her jaw. Then, towards the table he used for the odd bit of writing he needed to do. There was nothing there, now. No papers, no nibs or tools. He'd ordered everything taken away and packed for when they were due to leave. The show was going on, with the slaves scattered. No one would hear this girl scream for very long. But, he'd ensure it.
"Good for nothing," he added, just as both hands moved to shove her, intent on having Kesi hit the table. He joined her soon after, nails digging into the flesh of her shoulders, raking at the paint, letting it cake underneath his fingertips as he sought to rend it from her flesh. Angry red lines might bloom tiny streaks of crimson in their wake.
"May I return to the circus?" he mocked, shifting his focus once again. One hand raked those nails along the flesh of her thigh, intent on meeting the pleated fabric of the circus skirts. Ripping these fabrics was always a shame, expensive as they were. But...
Rip. Undone and torn in a vertical path, the garment would fall, with Somgi's grip clinging to a sliver that he brought up to Kesi's mouth.
"Shut up," he said pre-emptively, applying pressure with his free hand. Somgi of Cairo sought to pin the doppelganger to the surface of the table, with his legs leaning on her own, his hand ripping away the defense of fabric as he used a sliver for...
"Open your mouth. Stay quiet," he demanded. If she failed to obey, he'd wring the life from her until she did. The dark pebbles of his irises reflected none of the torchlight, showed no hints of mercy within them.
She backed away. She covered herself. Was the little doppelganger catching on to what he wanted from her? He didn't need to hide it, the intention within his cursory gaze, the movement of his hands as he kneaded her breast and felt the delicate thump of her pulse. How it waxed, the rhythm growing faster and faster, as if her veins would tear from her throat, or her heart from her chest. How he might've lamented that, to be robbed of the thrill he was after. The girl's life? It meant nothing to him, and burying her... it would be a relief.
She wrenched herself from his grip, the strain a wear through his palm and along his forearm. He flexed his fingers, clenching the hand into a fist. It was difficult to control the strength of his grip. The years wore on, and he found that using less force, balancing between keeping the girl's airway open and feeling her pulse... He seethed, not audibly, but there was a shudder that moved his shoulders when she backed away, She took two steps back. He bridged the difference. She took another two, and he let her have them.
Dark eyes met the cross of her arms around her chest, only rising when she let began to speak. Their gazes met, and her dismissive little question elicited a low laugh from his lips. His strides were longer than hers. Where she took seven steps, he need only take five. He shook his head,
"You? Good?" he began, but he did not punctuate the question with elaboration. No, he took his swing, intent on crashing the back of his hand to the right side of her jaw. Then, towards the table he used for the odd bit of writing he needed to do. There was nothing there, now. No papers, no nibs or tools. He'd ordered everything taken away and packed for when they were due to leave. The show was going on, with the slaves scattered. No one would hear this girl scream for very long. But, he'd ensure it.
"Good for nothing," he added, just as both hands moved to shove her, intent on having Kesi hit the table. He joined her soon after, nails digging into the flesh of her shoulders, raking at the paint, letting it cake underneath his fingertips as he sought to rend it from her flesh. Angry red lines might bloom tiny streaks of crimson in their wake.
"May I return to the circus?" he mocked, shifting his focus once again. One hand raked those nails along the flesh of her thigh, intent on meeting the pleated fabric of the circus skirts. Ripping these fabrics was always a shame, expensive as they were. But...
Rip. Undone and torn in a vertical path, the garment would fall, with Somgi's grip clinging to a sliver that he brought up to Kesi's mouth.
"Shut up," he said pre-emptively, applying pressure with his free hand. Somgi of Cairo sought to pin the doppelganger to the surface of the table, with his legs leaning on her own, his hand ripping away the defense of fabric as he used a sliver for...
"Open your mouth. Stay quiet," he demanded. If she failed to obey, he'd wring the life from her until she did. The dark pebbles of his irises reflected none of the torchlight, showed no hints of mercy within them.
The slap was more of what she expected. That much was familiar territory. He hit his mark, head snapping to the left as the force of the back of his hand collided with the right side of her jaw. It was enough to set her off-balance, something he took advantage of very quickly as he shoved her towards the table. The corner jutted into her back and left a bruise that would likely be there for days. Kesi suspected by the end of the night, that bruise would be the least of her worries.
Good for nothing. She wasn’t good for nothing, but Kesi didn’t even have time to think more of that before his nails ripped at her flesh. Blood bubbled from her shoulders, and Kesi let out a cry of pain. She was used to him hitting her, kicking her, even throwing her around, but now he was adding clawing to the repertoire? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with her? What did she do so wrong this time? Why was he so… angry?
The answer was simple. He was always angry, or he was at least when Kesi was around. But this was at an entirely new level. For a girl who so often lacked logic, her mind was whirling trying to find any sense to this. It jumped from conclusion to conclusion, none explaining why her father was suddenly so much worse than usual… except for one.
He wanted to.
It was as simple as that. Kesi could see in his dead eyes as he had her pinned to the table. The sight of him above her was not something unusual to Kesi. Somgi was always above Kesi. He towered over her, a constant menace, a reason for Kesi’s misery. What was different was the proximity. It was this proximity that made Kesi feel like her heart was going to rip from her chest. His legs pinned hers down, further constricting her ability to move. He had torn her skirt, but Kesi’s mind wasn’t paying much attention to that. It was focused on how close the two were.
Kesi had a fear of tight spaces, born from the man before her. With him using his body to limit the movement of her legs, what else could he constrict? The space wasn’t so small yet to truly bring her to the brink of her panic, but she was quickly approaching it. It was to the point that her arms moved in a fashion they never typically did. They tried to push against him to create more space before there was none.
Kesi never fought her father, not since she was a child, first taking her beatings. She knew the wrath it brought, and she knew it was futile anyway. The man may be aging, but he was not weak. He had the ability to bring her unimaginable pain, and no matter how hard Kesi worked, she would never be able to overpower him. She was not like Nem, muscled, and tall, with power; her father could not rival. While Kesi was toned, she was small and thin. Her body was built to be flexible and fluid, not muscular… not like her brother, nor her father. Shut up. Kesi hadn’t said anything, but it was quickly followed by a demand to open her mouth. Typically the girl would listen to her father, but this night was not typical. The hands that had tried to push him away now moved to his as they wrapped around her throat, constricting her airway. She wanted to thrash, she tried to thrash, but his legs’ weight kept her movement minimal. She attempted to loosen her grip in any way she could, but it was to no avail.
Kesi’s lungs were on fire, desperate for some air. A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye. When she opened her mouth the cloth from her skirt was stuffed inside, causing the girl to gag against it. Her nose flared as it recaptured the air that had been restricted, and the fire in her chest subsided, but a new predicament was introduced to Kesi. Feeling the saliva as it pooled at the cloth in her mouth, Kesi realized just how… exposed she really was. Constricted from much of her movement, Kesi was stuck naked underneath her father, without even the ability to scream.
A part of her brain knew the intention, but a large portion just couldn’t believe it. Being naked underneath Somgi was just incomprehensible. She would think this was a joke, that this fear tactic was the punishment itself, was it not the reflection in his eyes. Merciless didn’t begin to describe them. She knew her father lacked mercy, evident from the countless beatings she had across her lifetime. But these eyes didn’t even look like they belonged to a human. Or maybe they looked at Kesi like she wasn’t human. He had thrown terms like worthless and good for nothing at her before, but staring into those dark eyes made Kesi realize: To him, she was.
He’s going to rape me. Kesi felt frozen. It should be obvious that this was the case. Somgi of Cairo never cared for Kesi. But he was still responsible for his daughter, was he not? This was a line that he should never cross. But then again, when did he ever seem interested in lines? How many times did he bring Kesi to the point of wishing for death? How many times did Kesi believe that all she would ever feel in this lifetime was pain? He had trapped her in chests, in closets, beaten her until she lost consciousness. She was a slave to him. Masters do this to slaves, so why would Kesi be any different?
Somgi of Cairo was absolutely capable of raping his own daughter. And with no one here to save her, not her brother nor mother, Kesi would have to try to save herself. Her hand whipped towards her father, trying anything desperately to shove him away from her. She squeezed her own eyes shut, unable to look at his eyes anymore, terrified of what was about to come.
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The slap was more of what she expected. That much was familiar territory. He hit his mark, head snapping to the left as the force of the back of his hand collided with the right side of her jaw. It was enough to set her off-balance, something he took advantage of very quickly as he shoved her towards the table. The corner jutted into her back and left a bruise that would likely be there for days. Kesi suspected by the end of the night, that bruise would be the least of her worries.
Good for nothing. She wasn’t good for nothing, but Kesi didn’t even have time to think more of that before his nails ripped at her flesh. Blood bubbled from her shoulders, and Kesi let out a cry of pain. She was used to him hitting her, kicking her, even throwing her around, but now he was adding clawing to the repertoire? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with her? What did she do so wrong this time? Why was he so… angry?
The answer was simple. He was always angry, or he was at least when Kesi was around. But this was at an entirely new level. For a girl who so often lacked logic, her mind was whirling trying to find any sense to this. It jumped from conclusion to conclusion, none explaining why her father was suddenly so much worse than usual… except for one.
He wanted to.
It was as simple as that. Kesi could see in his dead eyes as he had her pinned to the table. The sight of him above her was not something unusual to Kesi. Somgi was always above Kesi. He towered over her, a constant menace, a reason for Kesi’s misery. What was different was the proximity. It was this proximity that made Kesi feel like her heart was going to rip from her chest. His legs pinned hers down, further constricting her ability to move. He had torn her skirt, but Kesi’s mind wasn’t paying much attention to that. It was focused on how close the two were.
Kesi had a fear of tight spaces, born from the man before her. With him using his body to limit the movement of her legs, what else could he constrict? The space wasn’t so small yet to truly bring her to the brink of her panic, but she was quickly approaching it. It was to the point that her arms moved in a fashion they never typically did. They tried to push against him to create more space before there was none.
Kesi never fought her father, not since she was a child, first taking her beatings. She knew the wrath it brought, and she knew it was futile anyway. The man may be aging, but he was not weak. He had the ability to bring her unimaginable pain, and no matter how hard Kesi worked, she would never be able to overpower him. She was not like Nem, muscled, and tall, with power; her father could not rival. While Kesi was toned, she was small and thin. Her body was built to be flexible and fluid, not muscular… not like her brother, nor her father. Shut up. Kesi hadn’t said anything, but it was quickly followed by a demand to open her mouth. Typically the girl would listen to her father, but this night was not typical. The hands that had tried to push him away now moved to his as they wrapped around her throat, constricting her airway. She wanted to thrash, she tried to thrash, but his legs’ weight kept her movement minimal. She attempted to loosen her grip in any way she could, but it was to no avail.
Kesi’s lungs were on fire, desperate for some air. A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye. When she opened her mouth the cloth from her skirt was stuffed inside, causing the girl to gag against it. Her nose flared as it recaptured the air that had been restricted, and the fire in her chest subsided, but a new predicament was introduced to Kesi. Feeling the saliva as it pooled at the cloth in her mouth, Kesi realized just how… exposed she really was. Constricted from much of her movement, Kesi was stuck naked underneath her father, without even the ability to scream.
A part of her brain knew the intention, but a large portion just couldn’t believe it. Being naked underneath Somgi was just incomprehensible. She would think this was a joke, that this fear tactic was the punishment itself, was it not the reflection in his eyes. Merciless didn’t begin to describe them. She knew her father lacked mercy, evident from the countless beatings she had across her lifetime. But these eyes didn’t even look like they belonged to a human. Or maybe they looked at Kesi like she wasn’t human. He had thrown terms like worthless and good for nothing at her before, but staring into those dark eyes made Kesi realize: To him, she was.
He’s going to rape me. Kesi felt frozen. It should be obvious that this was the case. Somgi of Cairo never cared for Kesi. But he was still responsible for his daughter, was he not? This was a line that he should never cross. But then again, when did he ever seem interested in lines? How many times did he bring Kesi to the point of wishing for death? How many times did Kesi believe that all she would ever feel in this lifetime was pain? He had trapped her in chests, in closets, beaten her until she lost consciousness. She was a slave to him. Masters do this to slaves, so why would Kesi be any different?
Somgi of Cairo was absolutely capable of raping his own daughter. And with no one here to save her, not her brother nor mother, Kesi would have to try to save herself. Her hand whipped towards her father, trying anything desperately to shove him away from her. She squeezed her own eyes shut, unable to look at his eyes anymore, terrified of what was about to come.
The slap was more of what she expected. That much was familiar territory. He hit his mark, head snapping to the left as the force of the back of his hand collided with the right side of her jaw. It was enough to set her off-balance, something he took advantage of very quickly as he shoved her towards the table. The corner jutted into her back and left a bruise that would likely be there for days. Kesi suspected by the end of the night, that bruise would be the least of her worries.
Good for nothing. She wasn’t good for nothing, but Kesi didn’t even have time to think more of that before his nails ripped at her flesh. Blood bubbled from her shoulders, and Kesi let out a cry of pain. She was used to him hitting her, kicking her, even throwing her around, but now he was adding clawing to the repertoire? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with her? What did she do so wrong this time? Why was he so… angry?
The answer was simple. He was always angry, or he was at least when Kesi was around. But this was at an entirely new level. For a girl who so often lacked logic, her mind was whirling trying to find any sense to this. It jumped from conclusion to conclusion, none explaining why her father was suddenly so much worse than usual… except for one.
He wanted to.
It was as simple as that. Kesi could see in his dead eyes as he had her pinned to the table. The sight of him above her was not something unusual to Kesi. Somgi was always above Kesi. He towered over her, a constant menace, a reason for Kesi’s misery. What was different was the proximity. It was this proximity that made Kesi feel like her heart was going to rip from her chest. His legs pinned hers down, further constricting her ability to move. He had torn her skirt, but Kesi’s mind wasn’t paying much attention to that. It was focused on how close the two were.
Kesi had a fear of tight spaces, born from the man before her. With him using his body to limit the movement of her legs, what else could he constrict? The space wasn’t so small yet to truly bring her to the brink of her panic, but she was quickly approaching it. It was to the point that her arms moved in a fashion they never typically did. They tried to push against him to create more space before there was none.
Kesi never fought her father, not since she was a child, first taking her beatings. She knew the wrath it brought, and she knew it was futile anyway. The man may be aging, but he was not weak. He had the ability to bring her unimaginable pain, and no matter how hard Kesi worked, she would never be able to overpower him. She was not like Nem, muscled, and tall, with power; her father could not rival. While Kesi was toned, she was small and thin. Her body was built to be flexible and fluid, not muscular… not like her brother, nor her father. Shut up. Kesi hadn’t said anything, but it was quickly followed by a demand to open her mouth. Typically the girl would listen to her father, but this night was not typical. The hands that had tried to push him away now moved to his as they wrapped around her throat, constricting her airway. She wanted to thrash, she tried to thrash, but his legs’ weight kept her movement minimal. She attempted to loosen her grip in any way she could, but it was to no avail.
Kesi’s lungs were on fire, desperate for some air. A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye. When she opened her mouth the cloth from her skirt was stuffed inside, causing the girl to gag against it. Her nose flared as it recaptured the air that had been restricted, and the fire in her chest subsided, but a new predicament was introduced to Kesi. Feeling the saliva as it pooled at the cloth in her mouth, Kesi realized just how… exposed she really was. Constricted from much of her movement, Kesi was stuck naked underneath her father, without even the ability to scream.
A part of her brain knew the intention, but a large portion just couldn’t believe it. Being naked underneath Somgi was just incomprehensible. She would think this was a joke, that this fear tactic was the punishment itself, was it not the reflection in his eyes. Merciless didn’t begin to describe them. She knew her father lacked mercy, evident from the countless beatings she had across her lifetime. But these eyes didn’t even look like they belonged to a human. Or maybe they looked at Kesi like she wasn’t human. He had thrown terms like worthless and good for nothing at her before, but staring into those dark eyes made Kesi realize: To him, she was.
He’s going to rape me. Kesi felt frozen. It should be obvious that this was the case. Somgi of Cairo never cared for Kesi. But he was still responsible for his daughter, was he not? This was a line that he should never cross. But then again, when did he ever seem interested in lines? How many times did he bring Kesi to the point of wishing for death? How many times did Kesi believe that all she would ever feel in this lifetime was pain? He had trapped her in chests, in closets, beaten her until she lost consciousness. She was a slave to him. Masters do this to slaves, so why would Kesi be any different?
Somgi of Cairo was absolutely capable of raping his own daughter. And with no one here to save her, not her brother nor mother, Kesi would have to try to save herself. Her hand whipped towards her father, trying anything desperately to shove him away from her. She squeezed her own eyes shut, unable to look at his eyes anymore, terrified of what was about to come.
Somgi of Cairo wondered when, at last, Kesi would arrive at the conclusion he wanted her to. The obvious one that any reasonable woman might've seen ages before. There was this satisfaction in seeing the life drain from Kesi's eyes. First, it was the stuffing the girl in coffins. He was well-aware of her natural aversion to tight spaces. It was normal enough, but hearing her claw at them until her hands bled, or the muffled screaming until she grew silent...
Eventually, it got old. Dated. He reveled in the suffering he could cause this doppelganger, this pale imitation... until the stakes needed to go higher. She'd grown into a fine enough looking woman, at least... lovely enough to stoke his interest, and so his game of terrify the doppelganger grew to include that. He loomed over her now, hungering for the signs of her rightful terror.
But, he didn't get to see it in her eyes. She squeezed them shut, as if her being blind to his advances would change anything. He could see the struggle, futile as it was, as she sought to swipe her hand at him. He allowed it, but her blindness didn't take well to him leaning forward into her strike. The inside of her elbow connected with his neck, her strike harmlessly deflected by the movement as hands dug into the flesh at her sides. Just beneath the curves of her breasts, his touch drew lower, and lower, until her hips were raked by hia nails, and her thighs were manipulated, pried apart. If she resisted him, he struck her, again and again until the flesh of her thighs were red and bruised from his assault.
"The less you move, the quicker this goes. But, by all means, resist."
His voice lowered, his beady black eyes following the path of blood and scratches, hugging the bruises on her flesh up until he repositioned himself between her thighs. Somgi of Cairo licked his lips and for a single moment, he hesitated.
He felt the familiar throbbing in his loins, a somberness stewing in his features, one he hoped for Kesi to open her eyes to. But, he didn't wait. The expression was sullied, replaced by the widening grin that caught his lips just as he guided the bulbous head of his length. There was no consideration for his fake daughter's virginity, nor the pain that his intrusion would force upon her.
The first stroke. Somgi pierced Kesi with the head of his cock, his thrust pushing him, inch by inch, into her. There was but a moment's discomfort, for there was no arousal from the girl. But her pain and her blood would act as the lubricant with which he violated her. In slow, deliberate strokes, he laid his claim to the girl, his hands snaking out to claim her wrists, guiding them to settle beneath her back as his pace increased.
As Somgi ravaged his daughter, he pulled one hand back, reading for the shendyt he'd abandoned and producing from it a tablet that he crushed between his teeth.
"None for you," he said, his low laughter echoing against the dense tarp of the tent, just as he began to feel the waves of pleasure, the pressure around his length, the rabid conquest of tearing this doppelganger's hymen and forever sullying her. Whatever wayward dreams she held about his son...
I wonder how long she'll see my shadow behind him.
He hoped it was forever.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Somgi of Cairo wondered when, at last, Kesi would arrive at the conclusion he wanted her to. The obvious one that any reasonable woman might've seen ages before. There was this satisfaction in seeing the life drain from Kesi's eyes. First, it was the stuffing the girl in coffins. He was well-aware of her natural aversion to tight spaces. It was normal enough, but hearing her claw at them until her hands bled, or the muffled screaming until she grew silent...
Eventually, it got old. Dated. He reveled in the suffering he could cause this doppelganger, this pale imitation... until the stakes needed to go higher. She'd grown into a fine enough looking woman, at least... lovely enough to stoke his interest, and so his game of terrify the doppelganger grew to include that. He loomed over her now, hungering for the signs of her rightful terror.
But, he didn't get to see it in her eyes. She squeezed them shut, as if her being blind to his advances would change anything. He could see the struggle, futile as it was, as she sought to swipe her hand at him. He allowed it, but her blindness didn't take well to him leaning forward into her strike. The inside of her elbow connected with his neck, her strike harmlessly deflected by the movement as hands dug into the flesh at her sides. Just beneath the curves of her breasts, his touch drew lower, and lower, until her hips were raked by hia nails, and her thighs were manipulated, pried apart. If she resisted him, he struck her, again and again until the flesh of her thighs were red and bruised from his assault.
"The less you move, the quicker this goes. But, by all means, resist."
His voice lowered, his beady black eyes following the path of blood and scratches, hugging the bruises on her flesh up until he repositioned himself between her thighs. Somgi of Cairo licked his lips and for a single moment, he hesitated.
He felt the familiar throbbing in his loins, a somberness stewing in his features, one he hoped for Kesi to open her eyes to. But, he didn't wait. The expression was sullied, replaced by the widening grin that caught his lips just as he guided the bulbous head of his length. There was no consideration for his fake daughter's virginity, nor the pain that his intrusion would force upon her.
The first stroke. Somgi pierced Kesi with the head of his cock, his thrust pushing him, inch by inch, into her. There was but a moment's discomfort, for there was no arousal from the girl. But her pain and her blood would act as the lubricant with which he violated her. In slow, deliberate strokes, he laid his claim to the girl, his hands snaking out to claim her wrists, guiding them to settle beneath her back as his pace increased.
As Somgi ravaged his daughter, he pulled one hand back, reading for the shendyt he'd abandoned and producing from it a tablet that he crushed between his teeth.
"None for you," he said, his low laughter echoing against the dense tarp of the tent, just as he began to feel the waves of pleasure, the pressure around his length, the rabid conquest of tearing this doppelganger's hymen and forever sullying her. Whatever wayward dreams she held about his son...
I wonder how long she'll see my shadow behind him.
He hoped it was forever.
Somgi of Cairo wondered when, at last, Kesi would arrive at the conclusion he wanted her to. The obvious one that any reasonable woman might've seen ages before. There was this satisfaction in seeing the life drain from Kesi's eyes. First, it was the stuffing the girl in coffins. He was well-aware of her natural aversion to tight spaces. It was normal enough, but hearing her claw at them until her hands bled, or the muffled screaming until she grew silent...
Eventually, it got old. Dated. He reveled in the suffering he could cause this doppelganger, this pale imitation... until the stakes needed to go higher. She'd grown into a fine enough looking woman, at least... lovely enough to stoke his interest, and so his game of terrify the doppelganger grew to include that. He loomed over her now, hungering for the signs of her rightful terror.
But, he didn't get to see it in her eyes. She squeezed them shut, as if her being blind to his advances would change anything. He could see the struggle, futile as it was, as she sought to swipe her hand at him. He allowed it, but her blindness didn't take well to him leaning forward into her strike. The inside of her elbow connected with his neck, her strike harmlessly deflected by the movement as hands dug into the flesh at her sides. Just beneath the curves of her breasts, his touch drew lower, and lower, until her hips were raked by hia nails, and her thighs were manipulated, pried apart. If she resisted him, he struck her, again and again until the flesh of her thighs were red and bruised from his assault.
"The less you move, the quicker this goes. But, by all means, resist."
His voice lowered, his beady black eyes following the path of blood and scratches, hugging the bruises on her flesh up until he repositioned himself between her thighs. Somgi of Cairo licked his lips and for a single moment, he hesitated.
He felt the familiar throbbing in his loins, a somberness stewing in his features, one he hoped for Kesi to open her eyes to. But, he didn't wait. The expression was sullied, replaced by the widening grin that caught his lips just as he guided the bulbous head of his length. There was no consideration for his fake daughter's virginity, nor the pain that his intrusion would force upon her.
The first stroke. Somgi pierced Kesi with the head of his cock, his thrust pushing him, inch by inch, into her. There was but a moment's discomfort, for there was no arousal from the girl. But her pain and her blood would act as the lubricant with which he violated her. In slow, deliberate strokes, he laid his claim to the girl, his hands snaking out to claim her wrists, guiding them to settle beneath her back as his pace increased.
As Somgi ravaged his daughter, he pulled one hand back, reading for the shendyt he'd abandoned and producing from it a tablet that he crushed between his teeth.
"None for you," he said, his low laughter echoing against the dense tarp of the tent, just as he began to feel the waves of pleasure, the pressure around his length, the rabid conquest of tearing this doppelganger's hymen and forever sullying her. Whatever wayward dreams she held about his son...
I wonder how long she'll see my shadow behind him.
He hoped it was forever.
Do you know that moment when you are staring at a dying fire? At first, the flames grow smaller. No longer do they lick the wood that once fed them. All that remains is the beating of embers. They glow red, pulsing just like a heartbeat. But eventually, they too die. That moment the last of the red fades to black is when you feel the coldest, the most empty. The moment hope dies.
As a child, Kesi was the flame, slowly being starved and forced to dim. With each hit she took, her light flickered. But she was desperate to keep going. She told herself that she just needed to go to the circus, to prove her worth. Then she could grow, she could make her father proud. Kesi had hope.
But then she went to the circus and her life, in terms of her father, only got worse. She grew used to the taste of iron as blood leaked from her mouth. The bruises on her ribs could be used to match the paint. She worked to exhaustion- and her mind justified that she hadn’t proven herself yet. She would just have to be better, to be something of worth.
Kesi’s eyes flew open in pain and shock. It was at that moment that if Somgi looked he would see it. The last ember finally dying out.
She screamed into the gag, but no one would be able to hear. Tears poured from her eyes. The only solace was that it blurred her vision and helped hide the horror that was in front of her. But even with the tears that blinded her Kesi knew what was in front of her. A monster, more terrifying than the Nile itself. Kesi did not know what she did to deserve this punishment from her father. She did not know what she did to make him hate her. She’d wonder later in the night if this was all she was good for. She’d wonder if the purpose she was looking for all her life was to be her father’s toy- the toy of a sadistic madman.
But that was later. Right now all Kesi could think about was the pain as she felt herself get forcibly filled by her father. There was friction there at first as he entered her with no lubrication. It almost felt like something was ripping, her body at first not ready for the sudden fullness her father’s cock gave. But with each thrust, it got smoother and smoother, as blood mixed with her own body’s lubricate. The body was a mysterious thing- to draw wetness from such a terrible act. To be able to physically react to it, when mentally she was terrified. The pain, however, did not cease, both physically and mentally. It felt like a punch to the gut each time. Kesi felt vile to begin to climb up her throat only to be forced to choke it back down.
He told her not to move, that it would go faster. But she reacted with instinct, trying so hard to twist her wrists out of his grip. She wanted to wiggle away, to escape, to rid herself from this situation. I don’t want to be here. Kesi thought, but no shard moved forward. None were equipped to handle this. None one personality could withstand abuse of this nature- they never had to. Kesi would have to break again.
Somgi of Cairo shattered his daughter once more; Shattered her to pieces.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Do you know that moment when you are staring at a dying fire? At first, the flames grow smaller. No longer do they lick the wood that once fed them. All that remains is the beating of embers. They glow red, pulsing just like a heartbeat. But eventually, they too die. That moment the last of the red fades to black is when you feel the coldest, the most empty. The moment hope dies.
As a child, Kesi was the flame, slowly being starved and forced to dim. With each hit she took, her light flickered. But she was desperate to keep going. She told herself that she just needed to go to the circus, to prove her worth. Then she could grow, she could make her father proud. Kesi had hope.
But then she went to the circus and her life, in terms of her father, only got worse. She grew used to the taste of iron as blood leaked from her mouth. The bruises on her ribs could be used to match the paint. She worked to exhaustion- and her mind justified that she hadn’t proven herself yet. She would just have to be better, to be something of worth.
Kesi’s eyes flew open in pain and shock. It was at that moment that if Somgi looked he would see it. The last ember finally dying out.
She screamed into the gag, but no one would be able to hear. Tears poured from her eyes. The only solace was that it blurred her vision and helped hide the horror that was in front of her. But even with the tears that blinded her Kesi knew what was in front of her. A monster, more terrifying than the Nile itself. Kesi did not know what she did to deserve this punishment from her father. She did not know what she did to make him hate her. She’d wonder later in the night if this was all she was good for. She’d wonder if the purpose she was looking for all her life was to be her father’s toy- the toy of a sadistic madman.
But that was later. Right now all Kesi could think about was the pain as she felt herself get forcibly filled by her father. There was friction there at first as he entered her with no lubrication. It almost felt like something was ripping, her body at first not ready for the sudden fullness her father’s cock gave. But with each thrust, it got smoother and smoother, as blood mixed with her own body’s lubricate. The body was a mysterious thing- to draw wetness from such a terrible act. To be able to physically react to it, when mentally she was terrified. The pain, however, did not cease, both physically and mentally. It felt like a punch to the gut each time. Kesi felt vile to begin to climb up her throat only to be forced to choke it back down.
He told her not to move, that it would go faster. But she reacted with instinct, trying so hard to twist her wrists out of his grip. She wanted to wiggle away, to escape, to rid herself from this situation. I don’t want to be here. Kesi thought, but no shard moved forward. None were equipped to handle this. None one personality could withstand abuse of this nature- they never had to. Kesi would have to break again.
Somgi of Cairo shattered his daughter once more; Shattered her to pieces.
Do you know that moment when you are staring at a dying fire? At first, the flames grow smaller. No longer do they lick the wood that once fed them. All that remains is the beating of embers. They glow red, pulsing just like a heartbeat. But eventually, they too die. That moment the last of the red fades to black is when you feel the coldest, the most empty. The moment hope dies.
As a child, Kesi was the flame, slowly being starved and forced to dim. With each hit she took, her light flickered. But she was desperate to keep going. She told herself that she just needed to go to the circus, to prove her worth. Then she could grow, she could make her father proud. Kesi had hope.
But then she went to the circus and her life, in terms of her father, only got worse. She grew used to the taste of iron as blood leaked from her mouth. The bruises on her ribs could be used to match the paint. She worked to exhaustion- and her mind justified that she hadn’t proven herself yet. She would just have to be better, to be something of worth.
Kesi’s eyes flew open in pain and shock. It was at that moment that if Somgi looked he would see it. The last ember finally dying out.
She screamed into the gag, but no one would be able to hear. Tears poured from her eyes. The only solace was that it blurred her vision and helped hide the horror that was in front of her. But even with the tears that blinded her Kesi knew what was in front of her. A monster, more terrifying than the Nile itself. Kesi did not know what she did to deserve this punishment from her father. She did not know what she did to make him hate her. She’d wonder later in the night if this was all she was good for. She’d wonder if the purpose she was looking for all her life was to be her father’s toy- the toy of a sadistic madman.
But that was later. Right now all Kesi could think about was the pain as she felt herself get forcibly filled by her father. There was friction there at first as he entered her with no lubrication. It almost felt like something was ripping, her body at first not ready for the sudden fullness her father’s cock gave. But with each thrust, it got smoother and smoother, as blood mixed with her own body’s lubricate. The body was a mysterious thing- to draw wetness from such a terrible act. To be able to physically react to it, when mentally she was terrified. The pain, however, did not cease, both physically and mentally. It felt like a punch to the gut each time. Kesi felt vile to begin to climb up her throat only to be forced to choke it back down.
He told her not to move, that it would go faster. But she reacted with instinct, trying so hard to twist her wrists out of his grip. She wanted to wiggle away, to escape, to rid herself from this situation. I don’t want to be here. Kesi thought, but no shard moved forward. None were equipped to handle this. None one personality could withstand abuse of this nature- they never had to. Kesi would have to break again.
Somgi of Cairo shattered his daughter once more; Shattered her to pieces.
