#dark!lee bodecker

it's not entirely your mother's fault. you were raised in this bumfuck small town where everyone says that women should take care of men, so that's the teaching that has been instilled in you. when you see how your mother doesn't do that, you can't help but think: "i can do better."

with your mother taking on the graveyard shifts as a nurse two towns over, you're the only one home when lee leaves his shift for the day. you start feeling a little competitive almost, wanting to prove yourself as a good woman of the family.

as the woman of the family.

so you begin to take over the chores around the house. you're the one throwing together ingredients you purchased over the weekend into a delicious, warm dinner to greet lee when he comes home. he was caught off guard the first time; he hasn't returned to a home-cooked meal in a long time. you tell him to get used to it because you're going to start taking care of him. you tell him that you're going to keep that soft belly of his round and full at all times.

you're the one looking up ways to clean the bloodstains off his white shirts, ironing them until crisp and making sure they're hung ready for him the next day. you hem his pants, patch up his clothes, and make sure all he needs to do to leave for work in the morning is put on his clothes and kiss you goodbye.

it doesn't stop there. once lee thanks you, once lee begins to appreciate your efforts, you only become increasingly greedy.

you start to do your hair, curling them gently until they fall in gentle waves. you do your makeup to hide the weary shadows under your eyes and line your lips cherry red to make sure lee notices, because he adores the color on you.

you do what you can to be the perfect daughter for him.

the perfect woman for him.

but it simply isn't enough. apparently not for lee. your greed seems to be inherited because lee still wants more. unfortunately, he doesn't want it from you. no, he goes back to your mother.

it's the first time your mother has ever taken a day off and so the two of them are home when you come back from classes. the two are in the kitchen, completely unaware that you're standing in the doorway. you watch as lee's thick hands slide up her dress, raking up the fabric to grab a handful of your mother's ass. he's kissing her neck, whispering words you can't hear in her ear.

what does she do? she brushes him off, tells him she's tired and would rather catch up on some much-needed sleep. once again, he's left cold in the dust.

and you don't feel disgusted from seeing that. no, you feel... jealous.

you've done all the work. you're the one who's taken care of him. why don't you get to reap the rewards? what's going to make him look at you?

when your mother is gone, you enter the kitchen and sidle up next to him. your arms wrap around his, soft breasts pressing up against his broad arm. "anything i can do to help, daddy?"

lee only looks at you. eyes almost pitiful. "no, sugar. this isn't something you can help with." it's his turn to brush you off and disappear down the hall.

all you feel is irritation. how dare he? you're his daughter. you can do anything to help your dad. you can be a woman too. you can be his woman too.

instead of giving up, you improve your tactics. you start wearing riskier clothes; really scraps of fabric that barely cover your tits and your stomach, shorts that ride so high you could see the under curve of your ass and your bare legs. you start listening to when he comes home, pretending to stumble out in only your towel like you've forgotten your pajamas.

you watch his eyes roam your body. you watch his eyes widen in surprise, how his pupils darken the rest of his gaze. but he only pinches his lips and lets you go on your way.

it doesn't matter how much you brush up against him, how much you curl up into him on the couch when he's watching the television. he doesn't do a damn thing.

despite the many lines he is apparently willing to cross for work, to cross to support this family, he doesn't seem inclined to do it with you.

however, all your little efforts seem to culminate into this grand finale. the event that takes the cake. it's one of lee's monthly poker nights. you usually hide out in your room and let him and his friends take over the living room with booze and cigars and cards.

not this time. this time, you want to show him what he's missing out on, especially when he's got enough liquor in him to sway his sense of judgment.

after lee brings them all to the setup, you come prancing in. a little babydoll dress. it's not terribly indecent, but it's not exactly proper attire either. lee seems to think so judging by the scowl on his face.

"sugar, what are you doin' down here?"

"just wanted to help you and your friends, daddy. shall i prepare some snacks?"

before lee can reject your proposal, his deputy across the table is already leering at you. his gaze drags up your thighs like the ghost of a touch. "i could use a snack, honey."

"fuck off, phil. this is my daughter. she ain't your wife."

"well, she ain't yours either," phil smirks then shifts his eyes back to you. "you got any pretzels?"

you spend the night doting on them. putting together bowls of snacks, refilling their drinks, even lighting their cigars. they absolutely delight in your presence but lee is none too pleased.

"lighten up, sheriff," another one of his friends smirk. "it's nice to have a woman in the room for once. brightens up the place, don'tcha think?"

"you fuck right off to hell, gary. this ain't no ordinary woman. this is my girl. you better keep your grubby hands to yourself."

but men aren't very good at listening, are they? as you're pouring phil another glass, he skates his hands up your thighs, fingers skimming the edge of your panties. you don't say anything but you make sure lee notices.

"hands, phil," lee snaps.

when you swap out the bowl of chips in front of gary, he openly looks at your tits practically spilling out of your dress, even licking his lips.

"eyes on the game, gary."

it doesn't take too long before lee's patience snaps and his hands shoot out to drag you onto his lap. "daddy!" you gasp.

"you sit right here and behave while i play. be my good luck charm."

"but the drinks—"

"they can serve themselves," lee grunts and his determined tone has a finality to it. with a beefy arm trapped around your waist, he keeps you firmly on his lap.

his breath ghosts your skin as he hooks his chin on your shoulder to peer at his cards. the way he's holding you presses your arms and tits together to create a gorgeous cleavage for everyone else to see. everyone's clearly distracted and lee hates the way they keep trawling their eyes all over you.

"wanna try, sweetheart?" his last friend offers up his lit cigar to you with a smile.

your hand rises only for lee to snatch it back down, keeping it trapped in his. "don't even think about it, smokes. my baby girl ain't touchin' that. especially not when your filthy mouth's been on it."

"lee is testy tonight," smokes chuckles, taking another drag.

"can't imagine why," phil smirks, gaze flicking over to you. he nods. "you ever been with a boy, honey?"

both you and lee freeze where you are. you instinctively begin to squirm, wondering if there is a right answer to this question.

lee's hand slides onto your bare thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. "well? answer the man."

his liquor-laced breath tickles your nose and you turn to find his face in such close proximity to yours. his eyes are glossed over, darker in this light. lips glistening with the sheen of whiskey on his lips. you resist the urge to lean over and kiss that flavor clean off his mouth.

"maybe," you giggle, shifting back against lee's soft wide frame.

"never brought that boy around to your dear old daddy, did you?" gary chortles.

"which boy?" lee's voice is quiet but gruff in your ears.

your pulse skips in your throat. your body is warm all over as lee's grip tightens on your thigh. you can feel yourself begin to leak between your legs. a whimper slipping past your lips at the look on his face, at the stern cadence of his voice.

"alright, pack it up, boys. time to call it a night. if we stay any longer, lee's going to pull out his rifle," gary chuckles as he scrapes his chair back.

the two of you barely pay them any mind as they awkwardly make their exit, quietly thanking you for your hospitality on the way out.

you try to get up to clean but lee keeps you still on his lap. his arm tightens around your waist.

"tell me which boy, sugar."

you laugh almost nervously. "there's no boy, daddy. i was just playing with you."

"you lyin' to me?"

"no, 'course not."

"you like playin' games?" lee asks, but the underlying warning is clear.

you played a little too close to the fire tonight. you may have just gotten burnt.

"let me rephrase, you like playin' with me?"

and your answer is honest. "i love playing with you."

lee's lips curl into a devilish grin on his handsome face. your dad is just so thick everywhere. his neck, his cheeks, his shoulders, his arms, his thighs. his stomach that fits into the curve of your back when you arch.

"wanna play a game with me?" he murmurs as he tugs your hair to one side.

the flimsy strap of your dress slips down your shoulder. neither of you bother to fix it.

the air is wrought with tension. you can barely breathe. lee brushes his lips along the back of your shoulder and up your neck. he breathes in that sweet perfume you've sprayed on, one that belongs to your mother that lee gifted her one year. one that she hasn't touched in so very long.

"smell so pretty," lee mumbles. "look so pretty too. you dress up for the boys?"

"dressed up for you, daddy."

a groan wrenches out of his chest. "you like callin' me daddy, sugar?"

"that's what you are," you try to innocently say.

lee tugs at the other strap of your dress, letting it fall down your shoulders. with that gone, the lace falls down to your waist, leaving you bare.

"i could feel your ass on my cock the entire night," lee mutters. "could feel this gorgeous thing rubbing up against my chub."

you bite on your bottom lip, looking straight ahead. lee's hands slide up your sides until he's going under your arms to cup your breasts. you let out a small gasp as his fingers begin to toy with your nipples, pinching and pulling until you're writhing on his lap.

"you do this on purpose? is this what you want? you just want your daddy to touch you?"

"oh god," you moan.

"don't use the lord's name in vain. we're already going to hell for this, i don't need another reason for him to punish us," lee taunts. his fingers are skilled as they grope your tits, pushing them together, fingers digging into the pliant flesh. "look at these pretty tits. made 'em myself."

"daddy," you stop him with warmth creeping up your cheeks.

"me and your mom made this pretty girl right here. only right if i get to use her, right?"

you nod eagerly, "yes, use me. i'm just here to help you. here to make you feel good."

"such a good, obedient girl. you're too good to me."

"i wanna be good just for you."

lee sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck as he keeps one hand on your breast and the other falling between your legs. he spreads his knees, parting your legs along with him. when he cups your core, he lets out a surprised sound.

"you've been bare all night?"

"no, i slipped off my panties earlier," you confess, biting your bottom lip. "when i went to refill the pretzels."

"fuckin' hell. did you enjoy phil copping a feel? bet those guys haven't seen a body like this in ages."

"mhmm, but i like your hands more," you admit sweetly.

with a proud grin, he tweaks your nipple again. "where'd you learn to sweet talk me like this? always knew you were sweet, but not this sweet."

"i'm just telling the truth, daddy."

lee prods a finger in. it's almost too easy. how wet you are. how greedily your cunt swallows up his finger. your folds are slick as he pushes one fat finger in, your pussy clenching around him. then he adds another because it doesn't seem to fill you up.

"pussy's kind of loose, sugar. you been lettin' anyone else in here?"

your heart spikes. "no, daddy. i told you."

"then why is your pussy takin' me so easily? fit two fingers like it's nothing."

"i-i don't know. maybe it's just because i'm so wet."

"or maybe i made you with the pussy of a fuckin' whore. a pussy made to be fucked by fat cocks. i was worried you wouldn't be able to take mine but guess i never had a reason to," he chuckles. "this pussy's going to stretch around my cock just fine."

you moan as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the drag of his thick digits sparking a delicious sort of lightning throughout your body. his one hand is still playing with your tit, tugging and squeezing until it's sore and sensitive. lee laps at your neck like a dog, tasting your smooth skin with the rough graze of his tongue.

when you open your eyes, you find lee's fingers dripping with your juice in front of you. he presses the tips against your bottom lip first, then orders you.

"suck."

"daddy—mmph—" he pushes the fingers in, touching the back of your throat as you gag around the length and the flavor. every complaint that rests in your throat gets shoved back down.

it's icky. it's sloppy.

"clean my fingers, sugar, or i won't fuck you."

you whine but, once again, you're an obedient girl. you lick around his fingers, your delicate hands wrapping around his wrists to keep his hand steady while you suck on his fingers like a good girl. lee groans behind you, forehead against your back.

"good girl," he rasps.

then he lifts you up all too easily, pushing aside everything on the table so he can press your face down. your cheek is against the velvet surface and you hear the clink of his belt before you peek at him shoving his trousers down.

you yelp when his fingers grab your hips to drag you back towards him. the tip of his cock pokes at your entrance and you can feel how big he is. how thick he is.

"you asked for this, sugar. temptin' me all fuckin' month for me to stick my cock in this pretty pussy, now you've got it."

lee sheathes himself all the way in. cock buried to the hilt. the force of impact, the sheer thickness of him that stretches you out with a burn has you gasping for air. your fingers scratch at the table and lee quickly grabs your hands and pins it on your lower back.

"don't fuck up my table. just take it like a good girl."

he begins pistoning relentlessly, cock bullying your insides like he's trying to scramble every inch of you. the burn sears heat into your skin, but is quick to melt away to a delicious kind of stinging that has your mind buzzing alive.

lee grunts with every thrust, like he's putting all of himself into every jerk of his hips.

"fuckin' tight ass cunt. greedy pussy's takin' me so well. this cunt's better than your mother's, is that what you wanted to hear?"

you whine with his words, clamping down around his cock even tighter.

"i asked you a question, girl," lee growls, pushing your hands down harder against your back until you mewl in pain.

"y-yes," you stutter.

"pert tits so much better than your mother's. young, tight pussy for me to defile. god, i can't get enough of this pussy now that i've had a taste. i'm gonna make you cockwarm me every night, sugar. once your mother leaves for work, you're sittin' on my cock all night."

you gurgle incoherently, babbling an agreement in your stupor that you probably won't remember tomorrow.

lee fucks deep inside of you, every drag of his cock is the spark of a match that sets off another round of fire inside your gut. his thick belly presses against your back as he leans forward, knocking the air straight out of your lungs.

"my sweet daughter's pussy. i can't wait to fill this up. i can't wait to cream inside you."

"n-no, please. i'm not on any protection," you groan.

"now you wanna complain? after pushin' me to the edge. no, you're going to take it like a girl. if it takes, then it takes. gonna tell your mom how you've been whorin' yourself out so we have to keep you home. i ain't lettin' you go anywhere. you're stayin' right here with me."

"daddy, no. please."

but your protests fall on deaf ears. even worse, it seems to egg lee on. every cry from your lips has him fucking you harder, faster, deeper. the pain is numbing, the pleasure is blinding. your vision is blurry from the tears that have welled in your eyes from both the pain and pleasure.

"fuck you so good every night, sugar. i'm going to keep this spoiled little pussy filled. if you wanna act like a brat, i'll treat you like one too. you're gonna be my good little wife, aren't you?"

your heart slams against your ribcage. "mhmm."

"gonna be so good to me. take care of me. feed me. my perfect little girl becoming my perfect little wife. nobody else has to know. just you and me."

"daddy," you whine as your stomach tightens. you can feel the climax chasing after you, a sensation that has your legs tensing and back arching further.

"my dirty little secret. my sweet, sweet girl."

"w-wanna cum, please. please let me cum, daddy."

"yeah, that's it," lee rolls his hips intentionally slower, drawing out your climb.

you squirm against him, nudging your ass back until you're practically fucking yourself on his cock. "please, daddy, please please." drool's rolling down your chin. messy girl spilling everywhere. cunt leaking, mouth dripping.

lee tightens his hold around your wrists, strong enough to bruise, and grabs your hips as he fucks into you. he goes fast and hard and mean. so deliciously mean.

the orgasm crashes over you and drags you under like a tidal wave. you're left gasping for air as your pussy clenches around him and his own orgasm rocks through his body. his thick frame shudders as he spills warmth inside of you, painting every inch of your insides your shade of pure.

"that's good, that's my good girl," lee groans. "my perfect baby girl."

a whimpered whine leaves your lips again as you shake through the last of your pleasure. lee pushes in a little deeper, silently praying that some of it is going to stick. he may be old but he's hoping those little suckers still have some strength to them.

"i'm gonna carry you upstairs with me still plugging my cum inside your cunt. then i'm going to fuck you again in the shower and then again in my bed until your mom comes home. when she does, i want you to smile at her and ask her what she wants for breakfast. got it?"

"yes, daddy."

requested by anon: dad!lee bodecker with spoiled reader pls!! where she lowk has Electra complex lol a/n: after i finished writing this, i realized you said spoiled reader which i completely missed. i do apologize but i hope you enjoy this regardless, especially with the sprinkling of the electra complex! if you enjoyed this, please like/reblog/comment. kisses!

The scent of dirt and sap stains each breath, measured on concentration. You snap another photo of the unaware finch, hoping along the moss on an overturned trunk. You hit the shutter until the noise sends the wings flapping.

You pause and rest the camera on your lap. You sit back behind the brush that shields you from the sight of the skittish creatures. You make notes in the worn brown journal before wrapping it up in the leather cord. You skip it into your back and sip from your water as you check the time.

You can tell by the new colours in the feathers and different cuts of beak when the hours change. Night looms behind the hazy clouds as the morning birds go to find their nests and night birds start their calls. You should head back.

You remove the lens and pack up your camera on the hard-shell bag. You hike it up on your shoulder and slip your notebook in the large pocket of your canvas jacket. You stand as twigs snap under your weight.

You didn't venture too far from the cottage. It isn't exactly a five-star getaway. It's a place to sleep.

This isn't exactly what people would call a dream vacation. Not theirs. You relish in it. The peace, the stillness, the simplicity.

You hook the clasp on the screen door as you let the forest breeze in. You put your camera bag and belt pack on the brown sofa with the heavy canteen. You open the windows and listen to the cheeks and chirps you try to name. You're getting better.

A hobby, a passion, whatever you call it, others say it's boring and old ladyish. Well, you just so happen to be an old lady... By some standards. You don't feel ancient; you feel like you're just finding your stride. Forty-five isn't the end.

You turn on the gas stove and heat up the prepared foil packet you prepped tediously before the nearly day long trek to nowhere. No wifi, no cell service, just you and the trees. No insta posts or AI captioned posed shots of the perfect life.

You eat alone. That's not unusual. Age makes you more comfortable with it. You even enjoy it.

You end the night with tea and more notes on your journal. You lock the windows and doors and turn on the gas heater as the night sets in with frost. You sleep on the sofa amid the outside noises of bats and unseen creatures.

The morning arrives with the sharp tweet of robins. You wake and brew coffee with the pour over. The slow process holds the calm. You sit and drink with the same patience.

You get ready with more urgency, eager to get a start at exploring. You might not take the big lens out right away. A few quick snaps as you chart out the territory will do. You have a week in this paradise and you will savour every moment.

You keep notes of landmarks to track your path. You’ve never been the greatest with direction. The jagged map wouldn’t make sense to anyone else.

You get to a pond and pause to watch the ducks skimming over the surface, some dipping their heads and shaking off the excess as the bob back up. You move slowly, setting the notebook down as you pull your bag around your front. You unzip carefully then bring out your camera.

You take several shots of the round headed ducks. You don’t get these kind down in the city. You lower the lens and sigh. You watch dreamily as rings radiate from their kicking feet and little trails ripple behind them.

There’s a crack to your left. A few ducks change course and you glance over. Leaves quiver on a slender bush but you don’t see anything. Probably a curious squirrel or chipmunk. You aim your camera over to get a closer look. You don’t see anything. You snap a photo anyway.

You loop the camera strap over your neck and fix your bag on your back. You grab the notebook and press on, your stubby pencil scratching each step into the page. You get more snaps as you go; birds, flowers, trees, a rabbit…

The sun rises higher and burns down between the tops of trees. You sit and unpack your lunch. You drink tea from your thermos and watch the clouds pass by the great beacon.

You chew on the last crust of your sandwich and sense movement behind you. You don’t hear anything, you have that feeling. You turn to look into the shadows between slanted trunks and bulging bushes. Nothing…

It’s probably not wise to be eating chicken in the middle of the wilderness. It’s a sure fire way to meet a bear. You swallow up the crumbs and stand as you chew. You sling your bag from your shoulders, check your belt pack, and hook your thermos on your canteen strap.

The day passes like honey slowly oozing from a comb. You stop to capture a regal egret couple and find a splendid looking jay with the brightest coat you’ve ever seen. You walk in circles, plotting to go further the next day. You’re still a bit nervous of getting lost.

The way back to the cottage isn’t as straightforward. You get there before dark again. You laze on the porch and go through your notes. The map provided by the owner is enough to get you there but isn’t very helpful for your ventures.

You go inside and warm up another prepared meal. Your plan was for everything to be easy. You didn’t want to think too much about cooking or cleaning. Better to keep in one room than spread out your existence across the cottage.

You lock up and turn on the electric lantern to read a chapter from your novel. You doze off with the pages against your chest. You lurch awake and the book falls into your lap as the echo of a sharp noise pulses in your head. You look around the empty cottage; at the corners full of shadows and the pitch black between the drawn curtains.

You close up the book but leave the lantern on. It’s eerie how much darker it gets out in the wild. You never thought you’d miss the noise of traffic and glare of street lights. 

You settle back down and close your eyes. It takes some time for the adrenaline to recede. You fall into a shallow sleep that offers little renewal.

You fill your thermos with coffee instead of tea that day. You twist the lid on your canteen full of filtered water, check your camera bag, and pick out lunch for the day. You eat before you go, hoping to stave off the distraction of your appetite as late as you can.

You go in the exact opposite direction as the day before. You come up on a drop-off then wind down the crooked path on the other side. There’s an offshoot of the lake just beyond. You make note. A night time journey might happen upon some loons, though you’re unsure of any nocturnal adventures.

To the west of the water, you tread off through the trees. You stop to capture a group of warblers lining the branches of a walnut tree. Then some ducks flying overhead in a vee and crows gathered in a squawking meeting across a rut of rocks.

Like the day before, you wander. You go back to the lake to eat and re-read the last chapter of your novel. You stare at the water. You could try swimming… You didn’t pack a suit but there’s no one around.

You return to the cabin to leave your camera and all. You take a towel with you and wind back around to the lake. You keep your panties and wireless bra on and dip in to your shoulders. The moss silty tickles your toes. You wade and float, the sun beaming down on your head and rippling across the water.

A sudden burst of noise startles you. Your eyes snap open and a scatter of birds flutter overhead in a panic. It was distant but loud. Like a gunshot. Your heart picks up as you retreat to shore.

You gather up your clothes and watch the flurry of feathers fleeing. There could be hunters out here… They wouldn’t exactly be out in plain view. You didn’t think of that but who else would want to be all the way out here. Other than eccentric bird ladies and grizzled hunters.

That’s a good sign to call it a day. You go back to the cabin. You let the warmth in through open windows and the screen door. You put your memory card in your laptop to review your shots so far. You’ll need to do a bit of editing.

You flick the arrow key as you go through frames. There’s a novice contest for wildlife photography. It might be worth the fee.

Your fingers hover as a shot of trees spreads across the screen. You check the time stamp then focus on the image. You tap the zoom, little by little. You remember this shot. Seemingly random. When you had lunch your second day and thought there was something around…

The silhouette of a man blurs between the thick oaks and slanting elm. It could be a trick of light but you swear…

POP. You nearly tip the chair as you sit up. You stand and hit the table with your hip. What the hell?

You rush to the front door and swing it open. You go out and find the clearing barren. Only the trees watch you. You search in the dense brush but see nothing but the wind blowing through the leaves.

You cautiously descend and walk around the perimeter of the cabin. You stop as you near your car parked in the back. Shit. Tire’s flat. You can’t find a hole but the treads are worn down, it was only inevitable. You don’t feel like patching it right now.

You go back inside. You lock the door. It’s nothing. Coincidence. The isolation is just getting to you.

You close the laptop. You’ll wait until you’re home to choose a shot. You still have some days to go.

🌲

You focus through the camera. You watch the owl on its perch, eyes closed, unmoving. You do your best to fit the branch and leaves in just the right way before you hit the shutter. Perfect.

You take at least a dozen. You want to have some variety. You straighten your neck and stretch it, vision fuzzy for just a moment as you readjust to see through your own focal point. You blink and yawn.

A red finch hops across a stump just beyond the camouflage of bushes you hide behind. You adjust your lens and lift the camera. Before you can catch a shot, the bird flaps away. You frown.

Twigs snap and your lens narrows in on a boot as it steps onto the stump. You bite down on a gasp and lift your head. You lower your camera as a man stands across from you, one foot propped up on the roots of the dead tree, the other firmly planted. He grips one hip as a long shotgun hangs over the crook of the opposite elbow.

You gulp and stare, stunned at the sudden appearance of human life. It must be a hunter. His thick hair is swathed in streaks of brown and grey and his thick beard tufts out, overgrown. He wears faded beige plaid and well-worn jeans, along with a pair of thick soled boots.

“Uh, sorry…” You utter dumbly.

“Now…” he drawls as he tilts his head. “What’s a lady doin’ all the way out in these parts?”

The question is natural. Anyone might wonder. Yet his tone unnerves you.

“I… I’m a photographer. I’m just… taking pictures of the wildlife.” You lower the camera and go to stand.

He clucks and raises the end of the barrel. “No, don’t do that.” He warns.

You stay on one knee. “Huh?”

“Don’t be movin’ too fast, sugar.” He aims the shotgun at you with one hand.

“Excuse me? I… Sir… I…”

“I know who y’are. Must be married to that city bodunk think he own the trees and like. The one fixed up that old shack.” He drags his foot off the trunk and takes a step toward you.

“I… I rented a place but…” you sniff. “Sir, I don’t know whoever you mean. I just paid for the airBNB.”

He scoffs. “Fancy camera.”

You stare at the gun as he brings his other hand under the barrel. Aiming firmly.

“You can have it. If that’s what you want.” You quaver.

“Mmm,” he hums into a soft snicker. “Ain’t what I want.” He slowly approaches. “Stand up. Slow like.”

You don’t look away from him. You let the camera hang and set your foot.

“Hands where I can see.” He tuts.

You show your palms and waver as you get to your feet. He twitches the barrel.

“Step out.” He gestures with the gun to the ground. You obey, a fiery cluster of nerves in the nape of your neck. “Mm mm, you hidin’. You don’t move now.” 

He waits until you nod before he gets closer. He comes forward and pulls open the unzipped front of your thin jacket. He drones as he checks out the loose tee you wear underneath. He tugs on it with another cluck.

“Ain’t no lady be wearin’ that,” he comments as he feels your canteen and bag. “Out here in the forest… got no protection.”

“I’m just taking pictures.” You murmur.

He slips his finger in the belt of your jeans and grins. “You just wandering around where you shouldn’t be.”

You tremble. He lets go and backs up. He points the barrel at you again.

“S’alright. I don’t like hurtin’ ladies. So you don’t give me no reason to.” He angles slowly. “You walk that way, keep your hands high, head straight.”

“Sir. I didn’t–”

“Ain’t about what you did.” He smirks. “It’s about what I need.”

-

You’ve lost track of the trees, the dips, the bends. You have no idea where the man is taking you but he seems certain. There’s nothing you can do but walk ahead of the double barrel and pray he doesn’t pull the trigger.

“Hard right.” He commands from behind.

You turn and through a wall of trees, you see old wooden planks and a splintered door. The old cabin looms just on the other side of the thick bark. The man directs you between two great oaks as the din shifts with the sun’s changing face.

“Home sweet home,” he declares.

You’re silent. You’re too stunned to beg. Somehow, you don’t think that would affect him. Whoever he is.

“You stop right there.” He says before you can reach the porch. “You put down your things. Right in the dirt.”

You do so slowly. You belt pack, camera bag, lunch bag, canteen, and finally, your camera.

“That’s a good girl.” He praises as he nears. “Walk up, open the door.”

You do it. What else can you do? Sure, you want to scream and fight but for what? Buckshot if you’re lucky, a horrid death if you’re not.

You enter the cabin. The floor groans under your weight. The man follows.

Inside, there’s a large rectangle table near a vintage firestove, a fridge older than you, and a deep steel sink. There’s a rug beaten down by time and feet, a fireplace with an old iron stove with a foggy glass window, a sagging sofa, and tattered armchair. It’s bigger than the cabin you paid for.

“Alright, sugar, sit.” He kicks a chair near the table. You sit. He goes behind you and lowers the gun. “Hands down.” You drop your arms. He pulls your wrists around the back of the chair. Metal jingles and he cuffs one wrist, looping the chain through the slats of the chair before locking the other in place. Shit.

“Stay.” He commands.

You nod. You close your eyes as he walks away. You tense as you test the cuffs gently.

This doesn’t happen to women like you. Not the old ones. Only the young precocious ones.

He comes back. He puts your things on the table. He doesn’t say a word as he examines them. He searches through your bags, pausing to snack on the nuts and berries, chewing as he looks over your camera. He smiles and aims the lens at you. He backs up and clicks. You blink.

“Must be a pretty penny.” He muses as he sets it down.

“You could sell it for almost same as new,” you offer.

“I ain’t care about money.” He inhales and steps around the table. “Ain’t what I want… or need.”

You stare at him. Your throat tightens. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles along your cheek.

“You got no ring.” He says.

You nod.

“No husband?” He asks.

You shake your head.

“Now that’s sad. Not to be claimed.” He heaves. “Lady like you.”

Your teeth chatter and you clench them. You’ve never been more afraid. You always thought you would fight. In the long shot that something ever happened, you hoped you’d be braver.

“It’s alright. I need someone to claim.” He grins as his fingers drag down to the top of your tee shirt. He pulls it out and leans forward to look down your shirt. “And you got a lot to claim, ain’t ya?”

You shiver. He licks his lips and lets go of your shirt. His large hands spread across your chest and he squeezes. You whimper.

“I ain’t a bad man. I’m just a lonely one.” He groans. “I won’t ask for much.”

Your eyes sting as he groups you, fingers digging in until you can barely keep still. He lets out a low growl. His hands trail down your sides and he grips your hips. He bends look you in the face.

“I smelled that home cooking.” His thumbs stretch across your pelvis. “I’d like some of that.”

Your eyes glisten and you flick your lashes. You nod. “What should I cook?”

“Mm, I got some duck. Freshly plucked.” He grips your thighs. “You think you can fix it up nice for your man?”

Your lip trembles. Do something! Stomp his foot! Scream! Bite his nose!

Then what? Then you’re still stuck to this chair and in the middle of the woods as night falls. Sure, you’d choose the bear over the man, but you don’t think you’d get that far.

“Yes, sir.” You say.

He rubs your thighs, forcing his thumb between them. “You call me honey, sugar.”

“Yes, honey,” you eke out.

“Mmm, I like that.” His blue eyes scale down your body. “And what’s for dessert?”

Your cheeks pinch and you shrug. You can’t speak.

You're as sweet as you look, getting along well with just about everyone. He almost pulled his gun on the young Arvin fella when he shook your hand. Lee's got it bad for you and he knows it. If he wasn't already married he'd pick you up in a heartbeat. As it is, he's looking forward to getting the benefits without the hassle of a wedding.

The fact you live alone almost makes it too easy for him. Good thing he's never had a problem with taking the easy way. Besides, he can be nice, if you'll let him.

There's a knock at your door and you rush from the kitchen with a cheerful, "who is it?"

"Sheriff Bodecker, ma'am."

You open the door with a small frown that brings out the cutest lines in your face. "Can I help you, Sheriff?"

"We got some reports about Ol' Bob doin' a bit o' thievin'." He lays the accent on thick to get you to lower your guard thinking he's just a good ol' boy.

"Oh no!" your hand flies to your face in concern.

"Bein' new in town you're more'n likely to be a victim," he explains, leaving out the fact that there is no Ol' Bob. "Do ya mind if'n I check to make sure your place is secure? I'd hate to have him take somethin' precious o' yours."

"Of course, Sheriff! What do you need from me?"

"With yer permission I'll check the locks on these here doors and windows. Did ya have 'em changed before movin' in?"

A look of concern crosses your features. "No, I...I didn't think to!"

"Well fer now I'll go ahead and check 'em. But tomorrow you best be headin' to Billy and Ralph's hardware to get some replacements. I'll even come by and make sure to help you install 'em properly."

"Thank you, Sheriff, but you won't need to do that. I'm pretty handy."

Lee fights the irritation he feels at your comments. Just as figured, you're an "independent" type. He's gonna have to fix that.

"May I still come in an' check on your windows?"

"Oh, yes! Of course!" You smile widely as you gesture for him to enter.

"Thank you," he nods, smiling at how easy you're making all of this.

He makes a good show of checking some of the windows, giving himself a better idea as to the layout of the little house. He can't have you hiding from him when he's hungry for a rendezvous.

Your kitchen is smelling heavenly, he thinks. It's a damn shame you're not looking for a man, you'd be getting all the good, and bad, men courting you. But since you'd rather be all alone, he gets to treat you like a whore.

"You mind me askin' what your cooking? Smells divine," he praises, getting you to walk closer to the counter.

"Oh, it's just a strawberry pie," you coo. "Though it is about time to get it out of the oven."

Lee steps away as you put on some oven mitts and bend over to get the pie. He licks his lips and readies himself.

As soon as you close the oven door and set down the pie, Lee pulls back his arm and smacks your ass. You let out a yelp and turn to him, eyes full of confusion and fear.

"You've got quite the peach," he purrs. "Been wanting to get my hands on it since you moved in."

"Sh-sh-sheriff, that's not--"

He crowds closer to, pushing your back into the counter.

"Not what, darlin'?"

"Not...not right! You're the sheriff!"

"Which means I'm the man in charge," he replies. "I get to choose which rules get enforced and which ones can be ignored, and by which people."

"But...but..."

He chuckles coldly. "And ain't nobody gonna believe you, either. An outsider to the community? A woman living on her own? They'll be marching you through town with a scarlet A on your chest."

"I...I can go above your head!" you argue, tears forming in your eyes. "State police, FBI, even!"

"Even if they would listen, you'd never get to 'em before my boys get to you, hurt you badly, and leave your body where no one will find it."

"Your deputies are in on it?" you gasp.

He laughs, "not them. People much worse than them. Ruthless people who, if you're nice for them, will give you a quick death instead of a slow one at their hotel with them other girls."

A sob escapes your lips and Lee starts fondling your breasts.

"And damn you'd make those O'Donovan boys a lot of money."

"O'Donovan? The...they run the Heavenly Rest?"

"They're the ones. And they get one notice from me that you're trouble, they will make you wish for death."

"Roger that!" you shout, making him pause long enough for you to headbutt him.

Lee staggers back a few steps before charging towards you, ready to hit back. You easily dodge the blow and head towards the front door, Lee giving chase.

The second he steps outside, though, he's greeted by a couple of State Police vehicles. Some of them with open doors and officers pointing guns at him.

He angrily raises his hands in surrender.

The tallest officer steps forward and Lee recognizes him.

"Captain Rogers," he spits. "Fucking golden boy. Since when do you send innocent women to do your dirty work?"

"The Detective here was only too happy to sign up," he shrugs. "And I can't argue with the results. She even got you to give up your partners."

Lee's eyes furrow in confusion for a moment before turning into rage. "Recording device?"

"Yup," Rogers confirms. "We were expecting this to take a lot longer but, lucky for us, you're too easy."

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doin’ walkin’ the streets alone at night?”

“Hi, Sheriff,” you greet, politely. “Just trying to get home.”

He taps two fingers onto the passenger seat before leaning out the car. “Why dontcha hop in, lovely? These roads ain’t safe at night, even for my kind of company.”

You adjust the books under your arm and push a loose strand of hair away from your face. “Oh, that’s all right, Sheriff,” you say. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Now that ain’t right, sweetheart,” Lee replies, frowning slightly before pulling his lips back up into a smirk. He reaches over and pushes open the passenger door. “Turning down help from your sheriff? C’mon, sugar—no sense bein’ stubborn when there’s a perfectly good seat right here.” He pauses, and then, his voice drops to something sickly sweet and he gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Or do I gotta ask twice?”

You look up and down the road. You’re not really comfortable with this but you don’t have much of a choice considering you wouldn’t put it past him to bring the car to a crawl and follow along beside you. You bite your lip and then reluctantly climb into the car. “Thank you, sir,” you say as you settle the books on your lap and fasten your sealbelt.

“No problem, princess. It’s my job to keep this town safe.” He smiles and then shifts the car into gear and jerks it forward. The streetlights cast streams of warm light across your face every few seconds, and Lee looks over at you with a dark gleam in his eyes before turning back to the road. “Mind if I ask what you were doin’ out so late, princess?”

You sigh and adjust your sitting position. “I lost track of time at the library. They stayed open longer for me but then nearly locked me in.”

Lee barks out a laugh and reaches over one hand to pat you on the knee, a little too hard to be friendly. His thumb digs in just enough for you to feel the imprint through your jeans. “The library? Hell, that’s cute.” He chuckles again. “I oughta go down there and thank ’em for keepin’ such sweet company past bedtime.”

“You’re very kind, Sheriff.”

He smiles and lets his hand drift up a little further as he shrugs. “I try, honey. I try real hard.” Lee turns another corner through the winding roads, heading into the suburbs. He lets the silence sit for a while before returning his hand to the wheel and clearing his throat. “You got anyone at home waitin’ for ya? Boyfriend, husband, family?” “Just my momma,” you confess as you shift the books around on your lap.

His grip on the steering wheel loosens and his grin softens into something more gentle, like relief. “Well, ain’t that lucky for me. Moms? They keep you in line better than a sheriff ever could.” He slows down when he reaches the neighbourhood and you point him to your street. When he asks which house is yours, you shake your head as you settle your hand on the buckle of your seatbelt.

“You can just drop me off here, Sheriff. Thank you for the ride.”

Then, he shakes his head and furrows his brows, but he does kill the engine, and with the hum gone, the weight of the rejection feels even thicker. “It’s late as hell.”

“It’s just down the street, sir—”

Lee holds up a hand to cut you off. “I don’t care if it’s around the damn corner, girl. Your momma’d skin me alive and wear my hide as a jacket if anything happened to you on my watch, so you’re stayin’ put right up until I walk you to your front door, you hear?”

You sigh and let go of the clip. “All right, Sheriff. It’s number 19.”

He nods and drives down the road until he parks right by your curbside. Lee climbs out, his boots sort of menacingly crunching against the gravel as he makes his way to your side, opening the door. “Let’s get you inside quick, princess.” He holds out a hand to you.

You scramble to climb out and secure the books back under your right arm before taking his hand with your left and letting him help you out of the car. “Sheriff, you really didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

His warm, calloused hand steadily grips your gently shaky one and he scoffs. “Don’t get shy on me now, darlin’. It’s no trouble at all, just doin’ my duty as sheriff.” Even after you’ve climbed out and kicked the car door shut behind you, Lee doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re both standing directly in front of your door.

You clear your throat and push a strand of hair away from your eyes. “Thank you so much, Sheriff.” “You’ve thanked me enough, sweetheart. How ’bout as a thanks you stop staying out so late, y’hear? But if you can’t stay away from that little library, I’ll be happy to pick you up.” He winks and steps back, giving you a little space that you’re secretly grateful for. As you tug your keys out of your pocket, Lee keeps talking, watching the keys jingling. “You got a number, sweetheart? In case you ever need a ride again.”

“Oh! I– I–” you stammer before levelling your voice once again. “I do but, you know, it’s the house number. Don’t want you to get stuck talkin’ to my mother.”

Lee just chuckles and pulls a yellow notepad out from the inside of his jacket before clicking a pen and handing it to you. “Write it down for me, sugar,” he coaxes when you don’t move to take it from his hand. “Or would you rather I just remember that sweet voice of yours.”

“All right,” you reply and scribble your number down on the legal pad. “Thanks again, Sheriff.”

Lee rips the paper off from the pad and folds it delicately before tucking it back in his pocket along with the sheets and his pen. “Any time, princess. Stay out of trouble, ya hear?”

“I hear. Goodnight, Sheriff.”

He tips his hat to you before heading back to his car. He lingers by the curb long enough to watch you unlock the door and head safely inside. Once you’re out of sight, he climbs into the cruiser with a smile on his face. You are just adorable.

***

It’s before 10 AM the next morning when you knock on Lee’s open door holding a basket of muffins.

He looks up from his pile of paperwork seemingly tired but once his eyes meet yours, it’s like you rejuvenate him, and he suddenly looks like he could go for a ten mile jog. That is to say, it’s like you… awaken something in him.

“Well, sunshine, what’re you doing up at this ungodly hour.”

“It’s nearly ten in the morning, Sheriff,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes.

Lee chuckles. “I thought a pretty thing like you’d need her beauty sleep, but you’re a sight for sore eyes with or without it, it seems.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile and decide not to respond to the comment, shifting on your feet. “Uh, I brought you some muffins to say thank you for last night. I hope you like them.”

You take a step towards his desk but he stands instead to meet you at the door, stalking towards you slowly. You take a small step back but soon find you’re unable to move your feet anymore until he’s right in front of you. Lee leans down, his face now awfully close to yours, you can smell the coffee on his breath, before he reaches an arm out behind you. He pushes the door shut and the steps away, and you can’t hide your visible sigh of relief and relaxed posture. Where you expect him to be offended, Lee merely smiles before turning around and making his way back to his chair.

“You’re very kind, miss,” he says and then gestures to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Please, sit.”

You obey, placing the basket on the table. He pulls it towards him and reaches in for one, letting out a moan that makes you uncomfortable when he takes a bite, causing you to slightly shrink into your chair. 

“Why, these are mighty good! Your momma make these?”

“No, Sheriff,” you confess. “I did.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really? Well, someday, your husband’s gonna be a lucky man, I’ll tell you that.” 

“You’re very kind, Sheriff,” you echo your earlier sentiment, and you’re sure you remember saying those exact same words last night.

“Say, what’re you up to right now, sweetheart? The library, I assume? What kinda books you like over there?” “I’m actually volunteering today, sir, so no getting lost in the books for me.”

“What time do you have to be there?” Your eyes widen as you realise where this is going. “Oh! I just came to drop these off real quick, I’ve gotta be there in 20 minutes.” 

“That’s enough time to go for a little walk, then, right, sunshine?”

“I guess…” You stand when he does and he leads you out. No one pays any attention to you when you pass the front desk, and something in you really, really wishes you had a witness. Lee walks you out of the station, out the empty parking lot and to the woods on the other side of the road. When he crosses the street, you hesitate. When he notices you’ve stopped he simply turns his head back. “Come on, sunshine. I’ve got something I want you to see.”

You look up and down the street: not a soul or car in sight. Reluctantly, you cross the road to join him in stride, crossing into the backwoods. You never go past the street into the trees because the trail soon cuts off, but Lee takes a turn you’ve never taken before that leads you to a small clearing. A deer runs off into the thicket as you enter.

“I never knew this was here,” you admit, looking up at the high branches blocking the light.

“I call this part the Bodecker Backwoods. Only I know about it, or at least I hope so, because I’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble if anyone ever caught onto this.”

You furrow your brows and slowly turn around.

“What do you—”

He pounces and you fall onto your back, pinned to the cold forest floor, the grass still damp with the morning dew. Cruelly, your scream is drowned out by the flutter of a dozen bird wings flying into the sky, and once they’re gone, Lee makes quick work of tugging your shirt down. You shriek and desperately wiggle, trying to fight him off. He leans back and for a split second you think maybe this was some joke, some test of your reflexes to see if you’d keep safe like he told you to, but he only removes his jacket and proceeds to pull his pistol out of his holster.

You let out a little yelp of shock when he brandishes it, the cold black metal catching the only stray beam of light and hitting you directly in your right eye. You squeeze that eye shut and use the other to squint up at the policeman currently straddling you to the dirt. His eyes are wide and his nostrils are flared, chest rising and falling heavily. You’d only struggled for a few seconds and that had set him off, he’s fuming above you. It strikes fear into your heart about what he’ll do if you resist anymore. Like he’s read your mind, he cocks his gun and presses it to your chin, tilting your head back enough that you have to arch your back, which only makes him press his hips down harder, his cock straining against his tight pants.

“Sheriff, please—” you begin, but your sentence is cut off by a harsh whimper when Lee digs the barrel of the gun further into your skin, leaving a circular indent you’ll surely see the marks of tomorrow. 

“I’ll give you a piece of advice: don’t speak, because your beggin’ only makes me harder, honey.”

Tears blur your vision and you’re secretly grateful for your temporary loss of sight, hiding your mind from the evil look Sheriff Bodecker has in his eyes, but he uses his calloused left hand to wipe your tears away, so you can see his ugly grin.

He’s done this before, it hits you. Even if he hadn’t implicitly stated so moments ago, his movements are quick and precise, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. He wiped your tears away roughly, like he wanted to make sure you saw him, and you knew who was doing this to you. Little things to turn this already godawful situation into a horror film.

Despite his advice, you can’t stop yourself from trying to get through to the man. “Sheriff, I swear I won’t tell no one—”

“Who would believe you? Listen, sweetheart…” He leans down, his warm breath fanning over your face, but the barrel of his gun keeps you from developing the courage to turn your head away. “There’s a dozen women I’ve done this to and I bet you haven’t heard of a single one of ’em, huh?”

That freezes your rapidly beating heart for a second. You don’t know if he means they’ve kept quiet themselves out of fear or if he’s done something more permanent to make sure they can’t say anything about it. 

He continues, “You move and I’ll fuck you with the gun instead. But it’s only a little thicker than me, doll.” He winks down at your before expertly freeing his cock with one hand, the other keeping a firm hold on his pistol. He spits in his hand before slowly running his hand up and down himself and spits in your face when you open your mouth to protest, right down your throat. You cough and try to sit up to stop yourself from choking but his firearm pressing deep into your skin quickly pushes you back down. 

Lee grunts as he wrestles your long white skirt up so he can comfortably position himself between your thighs. Tugging your underwear to the side, tearing the seam in the process, he slowly pushes into you. When you cry out and arch your back, he abandons holding your panties to the side in favour of covering your mouth, pressing down so hard on your lips you feel the circulation cutting off around your cheeks.

“I’m tryin’ to be nice, darlin’, ya see? Because if I heard you cry I’d make this a whole lot more painful to hear it again. Appreciate me, fuckin’ bitch.” He can hardly speak through his laboured breaths and deep grunts as he pushes in and out of you, simultaneously frustrated by how dry you are but also enjoying how rough he has to be to push all the way in and hit your cervix.

Delusional man he is, he somehow goes on, demanding you to thank him for this. “Fuckin’ appreciate I don’t blow your brains out through your chin right now. Could be a whole lot worse.” 

Your struggling is beyond useless and seems to only spur him on so you stop viciously twisting your hips and try to limit your whimpers and cries, though you can’t stop the tears from rolling down into your hair. When he notices, Lee smirks and somehow you can tell he has to restrain himself from leaning down and licking a stripe up from your jaw to your lash line to lap at your tears.

You don’t know if staying still is even the right call. On the one hand, while struggling seems to make him more determined, it seems like it would at least be over sooner given how much it turns him on, and while remaining motionless beneath him gives him slightly less satisfaction, he’s fore sure going to have the stamina to keep this going a little while longer. Luckily, he falls silent after his insane request for you to appreciate being raped on the forest floor and soon the only noises echoing against the trees are Lee’s grunts with only the birds and the deer to hear. The bushes rustle and the branches sway but none of them reach out to help you, laying helpless below the chief sworn to protect you. Knockemstiff has never been the most noble town, but the depth of corruption had never struck you this deeply before — now, it literally strikes deep inside of you, Lee spilling his evil right into your womb. 

✯

Maybe if you had someone looking out for you, they’d keep you safe from-

“Open up, sugar! I know you’re in there!” you heard from the other side of the door. “Ain’t polite to keep the sheriff out in the cold, so show me some hospitality and lemme in.”

You swallowed. Lee Bodecker. People either feared or respected him, or both for some. He thought he ran the town just because he had a badge, and maybe he did. 

But he never inflicted any kind of power over you. He was kind when he stopped into the diner at the same time and day every week. Used his manners with you, always left you a nice tip. So you started bringing some pie you baked from home and gave him a slice to go with his meals. You were just being polite. Nothing more.

You should’ve known he’d take your kindness as some form of courting.

“Bet you’re sweeter than any slice of pie, sugar,” he once said, lust in his eyes that he didn’t bother to hide before he tipped his hat and left.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, resting your hands against the door as if it would keep him out.

“I was hungry and wonderin’ if you had any of that pie for me to eat,” he said. Your stomach rolled as you imagined him licking his lips. “I know you bring ‘em from home just for me.”

“I was being nice,” you said, shrieking when he slammed his fist against the door.

“So was I. ‘S’why I kept them boys off your tail. Smart girl, don’t tell me you forgot?” he snarled. “Time to pay up.”

You closed your eyes. Some guys were giving you a hard time one night during an already painful shift. You mistakenly asked Lee if he could politely ask them to leave. He did. And while they didn’t care to listen to you, they shut up pretty quickly when Lee showed his gun. He made sure they all left you a nice tip, too.

“You know I’ll always take care of you, sugar,” he promised, leaving just a few moments after the group did. 

You found out the next day that Lee arrested them. Something about open alcohol containers and harrassment and resisting arrest. None of the guys around two looked at you twice anymore. You heard the whispers and saw the sneers from some of the women. Everyone thought you belonged to the sheriff.

That was the problem. You weren’t anyone’s property, and Lee would own anyone who ended up with him. That couldn’t be you.

“I didn’t forget. It’s just…” you tried to come up with an excuse. “It’s late, and I’m going to bed.”

“Just lemme in, sugar.” You froze when the door handle jiggled. The unamused chuckle that followed almost made you run. “Open the door and open them legs for me. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You backed away when the handle jiggled again, your heart leaping to your throat. “Please, just go, or I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Call the cops? I am the law, Sugar,” he reminded you. He was right, and none of the deputies would help you. “Will you run? Hide? Go ahead! Lock your doors, change your phone number. I’ll still find you.”

You covered your mouth, but it did little to contain the scream you let out when Lee kicked the door open and stepped inside like he owned the place. You couldn’t back away or run as tears spilled over. Your body knew he was going to own you before the night was over, and you couldn’t fight even as your mind screamed.

“Makin’ me work for it? Not very nice, sugar,” he rumbled, strolling forward and gripping your arm. 

“Please…” you prayed. God wasn’t listening. Not today.

“Wasn’t gonna use the cuffs on you ‘til later,” he smirked, digging his finger in until you whimpered. “But I guess we’ll start tonight.”

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Paul looks over your tired and exhausted body.  Everything had gone perfectly.  The doctors were astounded at how well things went.  Said that it was the easiest heart transplant they’d ever perform.  The nightmare of living with a battery pack on your hip, and plugged into a machine at night is over.  

You stir in your sleep, moving your gown, and exposing the surgery dressing.  A part of him wants to cover you back up, and the other part is stuck in a trance.  You’d have a large scar, but it’s one you already bore.  But this time it’s different.

It’s extending your life by decades.  It’s giving you a life of more freedom, and longer days with him.  Maybe even a family.  He can grow old with you.  He’d never admit it to you, but the past few years have been terrifying to him.  It’s why he hung on so tightly, and why he didn’t want to spend any time away from you. 

He can’t imagine a life without you, and now he won’t have to.  He lifts his eyes up and says a silent thank you to the soul that gave you another chance.  A chance to be normal again.  With a transplant comes never ending medication, and doctors visits.  But you’re no longer trapped in your own body. 

“You look like shit,” Paul turns his head to the doorway, and barely smiles at Lee before he looks back at your sleeping form.  “How she doing?” Paul just shrugs.  He can’t even put into words the life changing moment he’s going through, and he can’t even begin to fathom what it is going through your head.  

Lee glares at Paul’s back.  The stupid man should be able to say something.  Should be thanking the person that gave you the heart.  Paul can’t understand the sacrifice that Lee made just for you.  And eventually your sacrifice to be with Lee.  Paul will never get to experience that.  Maybe enough to realize that he fully lost you and that you will move on.  Once you know what’s good for you. 

You should see that Lee would do anything to keep you alive.  All he wants is for you to need him, and acknowledge how much you need him.  Let him take care of you in a way that only he can.  Paul can’t take care of you.  He’s just a damn deputy, and won’t do anything to make extra money. 

No, Paul is nothing but a sissy ‘good cop’.  Lee rolls his eyes as he stares too long at your exposed surgery location.  It’s covered up, but eventually there will be a long scar.  People will know what a good man he is because he stayed by your side in recovery.  

“I don’t even know who died to make this possible,” your husband looks at your sleeping body.  He adjusts your gown over yourself more, causing Lee to snarl.  He wants to continue to stare at what he made possible.  The sacrifice he gave for you to live happily with him.  Judith’s heart will heal you, and you won’t even care about Paul, you’ll love Lee. 

He’ll get you pregnant right away.  No need to wait.  

“I’m just thankful that I have her,” oh god, this stupid man is going to monologue.  “We were high school sweethearts.  I’ve never loved anyone like I do her.  She saved me. She’s the reason I went into the police force.  The reason that I wake up every morning.  And I can’t imagine my insignificant life without her.” 

Annoying.  That’s exactly what Paul is.  The bane of Lee’s existence.  He’ll rid the world of this sap soon enough.  

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, wiping away his tears.  Finally Paul gives Lee the attention he deserves, and he turns to look at his superior.  “I haven’t even asked you how Judith is doing.” 

“She — she didn’t make it,” Paul’s eyes blow wide open, and his body shifts in the chair.  

“I’m sorry to h-hear that, Lee.  I didn’t know.” 

“It’s fine really.  Judith finally did something right in her life,” Paul’s brows furrow, and he glances back at your sleeping body.  “You have a good evening, Diskant.” 

“Was — was Judith an organ donor?” 

“Take care of her heart,” Lee smiles as he steps back, and walks down the hall.  He leaves Paul with too many thoughts in his brain, and instead of just rejoicing that you live, he’s got scenarios in his head of Lee’s wife being the reason you get to live.  To give the two of you a life again.  

But also he wonders if Lee is going to hold resentment over him.  If he’s going to expect to come around more.  You already were at the point that you didn’t want Lee around you.  Is he going to expect that to continue?  Lee had been developing a weird obsession with you.  Hadn’t stopped asking questions about your health status, and how you’re feeling, what all needs to be done for the LVAD.  It’s unsettling the obsession he feels. 

And now you could have Lee’s wife’s heart.  A heart transplant was always a wish for the future, but both of you feared a perfect match wouldn’t come.  There’s so many variables when you can’t have a live donor.  

Paul worries that the ultimate blessing could become his worst nightmare.  

“You don’t have to stop the car like that,” you giggle over towards Paul.  You knew Paul had changed his way of driving to accommodate the heart pump in your body.  You’d complain that if he slammed on the brakes, and you could feel the pump try to exit your body.  It was dramatic of course, and it was a weird feeling, but Paul took it seriously. 

“You’re still precious cargo,” months have passed, and your new heart is functioning perfectly.  The only thing that isn’t working perfectly is your husband's libido.  He went from needing to fuck constantly to making sure everything has been healing properly.  

“Your dick is precious cargo,” you tease.  Releasing the hold of his hand, you slowly start to palm his crotch.  “And I believe that it’s time.” 

“As an officer of the law I need to tell you that your hand trying to get me hard while I’m driving is very frowned upon.” 

“Then pull over.” 

“I need to get back to work,” you sigh, and sit straight in your seat.  Keeping your eyes out in front of you, but your hand still teases Paul.  “What?” 

“You should fuck me.” 

“You’ve been healing.” 

“And now I’m healed.  You heard the doctor.  Everything is perfect.  Everything.  We can start trying for a baby,” you glance over towards Paul, and you can see the struggle he’s having with the serious conversation coupled with your roaming hand.  “I want you to fuck a baby in me.” 

“You can’t say things like that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because.” 

“Because why?  This has been our goal.  We have made it.  Now we can try,” Paul says nothing.  He keeps his hands perfectly on the wheel, and his eyes on the road, “You don’t even hold my hand when you drive anymore,” as if only to appease you, he drops his right hand, and pulls yours away from his midway to hard cock.  “Thanks,” you deadpan.

“You want to talk about it?” 

“About how my husband doesn’t want to fuck me?” He lets out the longest sigh you’ve ever heard.  He’d been doing this a lot recently.  He just didn’t get how good you feel.  “Well, you don’t.” 

“You were just cleared less than an hour ago.” 

“And the old Paul would have fucked me before we even left the parking lot.  You’ve avoided every advance.  The old Paul would…” 

“The old Paul didn’t see you laying on a hospital bed with your chest sewed back up.  The old Paul didn’t have to have the thought of losing you,” that’s humbling.  In all of this, you didn’t think to consider all that he has been going through.  “Do you know what it’s like to wonder if you’re going to lose me?” 

“Yeah,” your voice is so soft as you turn to look at him.  “I’m married to a cop.  The thought is always in my head when you’re not with me,” Paul slows the car to a roll as he pulls into the driveway.  There have been so many changes in such a short time since moving here.  “I’m sorry that I haven’t taken your feelings into consideration.  I’ve never had to see you laid out on a hospital bed, and you’ve seen me too many times like that.  But all jokes aside, I need you to still want me.” 

“I’m always going to want you.  I’ve never loved anyone like I have loved you,” Paul leans forward, letting his lips softly caress your temple.  Creating a trail all the way to your ear, “You are my best friend, and the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“I don’t want to wait with you anymore.  We’ve waited and waited, and I just want to enjoy my husband unabashedly.  I want to move into different positions and not worry about a damn cord getting in our way.  I want to be our fun normal selves again.” 

“And I want to make a baby with you, too,” some could call it selfish, or ill fated, maybe even a stupid idea.  But when you’ve spent the years that you have with Paul, you’re tired of waiting.  Tired of trying to follow the rules.  You’ve had a lifetime with Paul.  You know this man better than you know yourself.  Waiting now just seems like the worst thing that you can do.  

Paul abruptly gets out of the car, and is sprinting to your side of the door.  He opens it, and lifts you up into his arms, letting you koala around him.  No wires, no cords, no batteries keeping the pump that keeps you alive working.  You have someone to thank for their heart.  And as if by divine design, your love and desire for Paul is larger than ever.  There’s a raw energy to just have him that you have never felt before.  

You don’t even make it into the house before you’re grinding on him.  Kissing every inch of his exposed skin and what you can’t reach with your lips, your fingers are ripping and pulling apart.  You want his skin on yours.  Truly having nothing to separate the two of you.  You reach for the buttons on your own dress, and pull it apart.  Greedily pressing yourself against him.  

“Right here,” you moan.  When was the last time that you guys needed each other so much that you just start fucking in the middle of the floor?  Paul’s skills are on full display as he starts to let you down to the floor.  His own body pushing apart your thighs as you desperately try to remove your panties.  Ready to take your husband in a way that you haven’t in years. 

Paul surprises you as he reaches under your dress, ripping the flimsy material off you.  “I don’t like this dress,” you whimper, and he understands.  Clawing at the material that’s left on your body.  Tearing every piece of fabric that separates you from him.  Not even trying to be sexy when he pulls off his shirt.  Crawling to you only pushes his pants down, but it’s enough to free himself.  

Your back arches, and you spread yourself wider as he enters into your body, and you breathe a sigh of relief.  You had him.  All of him, and all of you, just the way it was supposed to be.  No pump inside your body is jostling around as he pistons himself into you.  No wires are getting tangled up, just your limbs as you entwine your body with his.  

His weight bears down on you, and the sounds out of your mouth are pure bliss.  It’s like before the heart problems.  It’s primal.  It’s a need to just have every ounce of his flesh on yours.  Solidifying that you were truly meant for him.  Nothing else has ever mattered to you but him.  And your deep desire for an eventual family with him has always been your goal.  

Your fingers cling to him, scratching down his back as you let the feeling of having him take over your body.  There’s no thoughts, just the pleasure he’s able to bring you.  Becoming completely pliable to him.  You trust Paul fully, but he could do whatever he wants at this moment, and you wouldn’t care.  You wouldn’t dream of denying him what he’s needed as well.  

“I love you so much,” he pants into your ear.  His entire body has encapsulated you, and you take so much comfort in him being able to relax and truly let go.  “You want us to have a baby?” 

“Yes!” Being tired of waiting doesn’t even compare to the things you feel.  You’re frustrated, and over not having him growing inside of you.  Irritated that you’re in this middle of nowhere place, but you want a family with him. 

“You want me to fuck a baby in you?” Paul didn’t realize the relief he would get from having you in this vulnerable state.  How you are on another plane of existence.  He could come up with some weird shit, and you would probably say yes.  You look beautiful trusting him in this way.  

“Paul, fuck a baby in me!  Please!” 

His thrusts go harder.  Deeper.  Stabbing into you with the need that he’s had for the years you’ve had a heart pump.  Every jolt and push into you is so urgent and needy that you black out.  He’ll take care of you.  He always does.  He always makes sure to give you exactly what you need.  Paul is a man that would sacrifice his morals to protect you.  You know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make sure that you are okay.  

You fully trust him.  You fully feel him.  You fully want him.  

One more deep, hard thrust has his warmth spurting and spreading inside of you, and your eyes go glossy as your cunt milks every last drop from him.  Breathlessly you stare up at the most beautiful human you’ve ever met.  You’d repay him the kindness of your dying breath as well.  But now you don’t have to.  Now you’re whole again.  

You choke back a tear, and Paul is already brushing his lips against your heated skin.  “I have begged and pleaded for these moments again.  I won’t lose you like that again.” 

“You never lost me, Blossom,” no, but it wasn’t like this.  It wasn’t without care or fear of harming you.  It was calculated, and only just enough.  

“You have to get back to work.” 

“I can call in.  Say you’ve had a hard time after the checkup.” 

“I think it was you that had a hard time,” you giggle, trying to make a joke.  If you could have him just lay on you with his cock inside you, that would be heaven.  “Go on.  I’ll see you when you get home.” 

He grimaces as he pulls himself out of you, and stares down at your messy and spent body.  “Keep that in there.  It just may take,” he chuckles.  He stands up to dress, but keeps looking at your immobile body.  Your scar is on full display, but it's where his body was just seated that has his attention.

“Stop staring at my pussy, and get to work.” 

“You’re going to be okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m going to walk around naked with your cum dripping down my leg.  Then I’m going to take a really long bath again,” baths weren’t a privilege you got to have when you had the LVAD.  

“You’re making it harder to leave.” 

“Don’t get harder.  But do come home, and fuck me awake, okay?” He gulps, but nods his head.  “Be careful.” 

“MOTHER FUCKER!” Lee slings his phone into the floor of his cruiser.  He couldn’t stare at you just laying on the floor with your legs spread wide, and dripping of Diskant.  He couldn’t stand the thought that he waited until you healed, and now that douche of a man is trying to impregnate you!  That is his job!  That is his will!  

“Fuck her awake.  I’ll show her fucking her awake!  Stupid ass ungrateful bitch,” he reaches into his dash for his secret phone, calling the least desirable man other than Diskant.  “I need that idiot dead!” 

“How do you suppose I do that, sweet cheeks?” 

“I don’t care if you shoot him through the fucking head!” 

“It is because he was just fucking that delectable pussy?  Had her begging him to fuck a baby in her,” the asshole!  Lee is aware that Lloyd has hacking abilities, but hacking into his computers and cameras is not okay.  “You think you could pound into her like her skinny husband?  I don’t think that heart has fallen for you.” 

“The asshole didn’t tell her it was Judith’s heart.  I basically told him, and he hasn’t said dick to her.” 

“Oh, he said dick.  Made that bitch cry out from pleasure.” 

“We’re moving up the plan!” Lee demands.

“No, we’re not.  I own you, sugar tits.  You may want that sweet piece of damaged ass, but I’m going to tell you how this is going to work.  You’re playing my game.  I killed your wife, now I need you to do something for me.” 

“Oh, yeah?  And what’s that?” 

“Let me fuck your Frankenstein.” 

“No, you don’t even want her.” 

“You don’t either.  You just want to own her.  Get back with me when you’ve made up your mind, pumpkin.  I don’t play fair or by the rules.  Have fun with your pathetic existence.  Oh, and Lee, you try to break into their house and fuck her, I’ll be watching.”

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“Leavin’ so soon, Sweetheart?” His voice echoes through the night air and you turn to face him, watching as he slowly walks up to you.

“It’s gettin’ late, Father.” You tell him with a smile, doing your best to hide the fear that begins to bloom in your core. “My daddy wouldn’t want me stayin’ out too long. Says it ain’t safe for a lady bein’ alone in the night.” You explain, hoping that the mention of your daddy would keep him at bay.

“But you’re in the house of God with your priest. Ain’t nowhere safer than here, right?” He’s closer now, intense blue eyes trained on you and the smirk he sends your way brings a chill up your spine. You look away, not wanting him to see your dread, and focus on the white tab tucked underneath the collar of his black shirt.

“I hear you singin’ with ‘em kids—such a lovely voice you have.” You take his compliment but keep your guard up as you cradle your purse in your arms, keeping the bench between the two of you. “I want to hear it again. One of ‘em hymns for tomorrow’s mass.”

“I’d love to, Father, but—”

“You know, disobeying the will of the priest is equivalent to disobeying the will of God.” Your hand trembles with how he says those words, swallowing thickly as you try to calm your nerves. “You wouldn’t want that, do you? To disobey the Lord?”

You shake your head.

“Good girl.” The praise makes you feel nothing but disgust. “Now, why don’t you get back in that chair and start playing?”

And just like that, you do as you are told; setting down your purse on the side of the piano and taking your seat once more. Your spine tenses and your hands shake upon setting them over the keys when he goes to stand behind you, feeling the excess of his stomach brushing against your arm.

Just play, you tell yourself, and you hope then when you do, when you’ve done what is being asked of you, that he will leave you alone.

Ever since Father Bodecker - Lee as he likes to be addressed - arrived in your quaint town as the new priest, things for you have never been the same. The sense of trepidation never once came across your mind when you were first within his presence, but it soon blossomed, quite strongly, in your opinion, when you saw the way he looked at you each time you stayed behind to practice the songs for the mass. 

How his hands would mindlessly touch you, innocently from the outside looking in, but you know to yourself that they’re beyond appropriate especially for a woman as yourself and even more for the man of God. His lips utter words of vulgarity, ones you know someone of his profession should never say.

But what had you fearing his presence was once, before Sunday mass, while you were practicing the psalms on the podium, you saw him enter from your periphery and stood behind you, too close for your liking. You thought he was simply curious about what you were reading but such thoughts ultimately vanished when he pressed his hands on the wooden surface of the stand and you felt something hard dig into your backside. 

You’d only ever escaped when one of the parish volunteers arrived earlier than expected and you heard the growl of disappointment that he emitted. Yet you know deep down that won’t be his last attempt, especially after seeing the determination in his sapphire eyes, a promise of a next time. 

As you reach the end of the song, you startled upon feeling his hands rest on your shoulders, his thumbs massaging your muscles and his warm breath scattering against your cheek.

“You play so beautifully, Sweetheart. Singin’ those praises like an angel.” He’s so close and you feel your heart pounding wildly against your chest, panic completely setting into your bones. “Why don’t you sing another praise—for me this time.”

“I’d love to, Father, but it is already getting late.” You tell him as you move to stand from your seat but his hands keep you firmly still and you gasp in shock when he leans you forward, pushing you against the keys that cry upon being pressed. “Father—what are you doing?” You ask frantically, eyes wide in fear as you struggle against his hold.

“I just want to hear that sweet voice of yours.” His voice is laced with darkness and your knees almost buckle when he pushes away the bench from underneath you, hand lifting the skirt of your dress. “I wonder what other sounds you can make, huh? I’m dyin’ to hear.”

You claw your fingers against the piano when you hear the sound of his zipper being undone, struggling much more to set yourself free. But you’re rendered helpless against a man his size, his feet pushing your own apart and a gasp wretches from your throat when in one swift move, he’s inside you—your walls stretching in pain from his girth.

Tears spill from your eyes as he moves his lips in a sadistic pace, each of his thrust sending you shivers of agony, making every second of his assault unbearable. His groans mix with the sound of ivory and your pleas for him to stop, Father Bodecker panting and mumbling a slew of curses when he continues to plunge, harder and faster, unrelenting of his sinful intent. 

You beg once more, your nails digging into your skin as you try to push him back, but such a gesture is futile—benefiting him further as it allows him to slide deeper into your core that begins to grow damp with each torturous second. 

He calls out your name in the flurry of notes, his hips moving erratically that you feel something foreign, something new, something forbidden pull at you from within. You grit your teeth and shut your eyes as you endure the sins he brandishes on your soul.

But all at once, he’s gone and you’re empty, the walls of your abused cunt clenching around nothing. A grunt is then pulled from your lips when you're effortlessly pushed onto your knees and you stare up at him in horror when he grabs the back of your head, keeping you in place.

That’s when you truly see the devil he truly is. He’s no man of God but a spawn of the underworld.

He groans once more, his cock stiff and throbbing in his hand as he strokes it once, twice, seeing his eyes shut tight with his face twisting in bliss and you’re shocked to your core when streaks of hot, white essence paint your face.  

Disbelief engulfs you, along with anger and shame—that he would do this to you and in the house of the Lord.

A dark laugh escapes him as he looks down on you, his hand cupping your cheek as he smears his seed on your face then tapping the tip of his cock against your lips.