alice march

“She was crying, begging me to stop, saying that I was hurting her. I just laughed, telling her she should be grateful to receive my affection, and that nothing in her life would compare to the glory of bearing my child. Galvin always told me that it didn’t matter what happened to the weak; it was our birthright to take what we wanted because we were superior in blood and magic. I wanted to believe him, because with him, I wasn’t alone. We had fun, we laughed, and we dismissed everyone and everything that got in our way. I wanted to believe that there was nothing wrong with us, even if, deep down, I knew the truth.

Her heartbeat raced wildly, and her breathing came hard through her nose as she sat there in silence with her lips wrapped around her father’s dick waiting for his orgasm to end. The cum had pooled at the bottom of her mouth, like a lake of magma that jiggled with each ragged breath. She dropped her tongue into it and lifted, letting it drip off the sides of her tongue. Finally, her father began to soften in her mouth, and she felt safe pulling away. She squeezed the head with her lips, making sure not to let a drop escape and with a final jerk his semi-flaccid penis slipped out, bouncing off her chin and back onto his thigh.

I left her there, naked and bleeding, and the next time I saw her, she was at the base of the west tower, having jumped to her death. Galvin told me not to concern myself with her, that she was simply a broken toy, and that I would find another. But I knew different. She wasn’t a broken toy, and though she made her choice, it wasn’t suicide; it was murder. I killed her. I hurt her, I violated her, and made her life so painful that I might as well have pushed her off that tower myself. I knew it, but I didn’t want to accept it.