Once there was a grownup little girl named Velvet who lived in a beautiful mountain town, a town full of skiers and hot springs and reggae music and very deep snow. The snow was so deep that Velvet had to carve a steep spiral staircase out of snow just to get up and out of her doorway and be able to leave her house.

Still, Velvet wore skirts. She wore big black furry boots, baby blue cowl-neck warm fuzzy sweaters, black earmuffs, little black mitts and long black skirts. People laughed at her and told her she should wear pants, or jeans, or a snowsuit, and they told her she would freeze and catch cold and be sorry. Velvet would just shrug and turn away, for she couldn't tell them that her Daddy only allowed her to wear skirts and even though he had been gone for a very long time, she could still feel the heat of his hands reaching under her skirt and it was enough to keep her warm.

Every day when Velvet woke up under the big blue and white star quilt, she was sure her Daddy was there next to her, and that he would roll over and press his full weight into her, and begin to whisper into her ear exactly what he wanted her to do that day. She would lie very still with her arms stretched above her head on the pillow, and feel his big hand wrap around her wrists and hold her there while he kissed her hard, breathing into her, giving her life and energy, creating her anew each day according to his desires. He would bite her lip and if she cried out he would bite harder and pause until she said, thank you for loving me, Daddy.

Today, he would sometimes say, you will just lie here on the bed for me with your legs spread wide and wait for me to use you any way that I like. Other days he would dress her in her royal blue satin slip, take her to the oak table in the corner by the fireplace, tie her ankles to the chair and tell her exactly what to write. Write me a story, Velvet, he'd say, about a young Eskimo girl and her Daddy and all their words for snow, and about what happens when they move to a tropical island where they are the only people there, so that nobody can ever know what he does to her. Make it long and sexy and cruel. And you know that it has to make me hard when you read it to me tonight. Or else.

His words filled the room and then they stopped. Velvet opened her eyes suddenly and could see that her Daddy wasn't there at all. She tried to talk to herself in his voice. She touched herself and she was just as wet as if it was his hand touching her. She stroked herself and paused long enough to slap her pussy the way he used to. And when she began to feel too crazy for the room she got up and put on her skirt and sweater and mitts and boots and went out to look for Daddy.

One Monday morning as she left, the last Monday morning, she locked her door tight and climbed up the spiral snowcase in her skirt. She began her daily walk up and down the streets, stopping to look in every shop window as though her Daddy might be just sitting there next to a pile of ski sweaters, waiting for her. Where have you been, Velvet? he would say to her in that voice, and she would say I'm sorry it took so long for me to find you, and he would punish her by making her lift her skirt and bend over in the window where everyone could see her. He would kiss her and then spank her bare bottom, pausing to touch her and make her come, and cry, at the same time.

She walked through all twenty streets in the little mountain town, lifting her skirt slightly to step over piles of ice, but she didn't find him again. She was cold under her skirt but thought that maybe she just had to go deeper into the snow to find the man she was looking for. There were a lot of men in Velvet's world, but they were all too nice and they never told her what to do.

She stood by the hill on Lincoln and Highway 40 and pulled the little 3 x 5 cards out of her skirt pocket and looked at them to try and figure out what to do next. On the Fourth of July, when the sun was high and threatening to melt the spiral snowcase, she had started to write things down to tell herself what to do when she forgot how to live.

Ride the gondola one card said, and Velvet had ridden the gondola up and down the mountain a hundred times looking at all the skiers and listening to reggae music blaring from the slopeside bar until finally the lift operator felt so sorry for her he took her home to his ski hut and undressed her carefully and fucked her gently all night long. In the morning she put her arms above her head and waited for him to tell her what to do, but he made her coffee and breakfast in bed and kissed her softly and told her he loved her and she knew she would never see him again.

Make snow angels another card said, and Velvet closed her eyes and remembered how she made snow angels all over the yard of the courthouse in November in the hope that her Daddy would come by and see them and know she was looking for him. That night she slept outside tucked into the wing of one of the angels and dreamed that all the men of the town came by and lifted her skirt one by one, touching her and trying her out, kind of like Cinderella's glass slipper. But none of them fit just right, and in the morning she was still alone.

All I ever wanted was a dark and smart and sexy man to take control of me and own me. Does this make me crazy? Is this too much to ask? There must be hundreds of men in this world who would like to do this and I'm just not looking hard enough or being a good enough little girl. My Daddy knew how to do this and when I knelt in front of the fire we both knew that we were born for him to own me. We would look into the fire and it was like a vision . . .

Velvet opened her eyes and realized: maybe my Daddy never existed. She thought maybe she had invented him, made him up from scratch like a good story, imagined his hands and his words and his cock and his force. And if he was imaginary, so was she, because then no one had ever breathed life into her, and maybe the spiral snowcase was really only made out of cement after all.

She looked out through the falling snow and saw that the tall poles called snowmarkers that showed the snowplow where the road was were completely covered by the many feet of falling snow.

If there is no road there is no town. There are no paths, there are no maps. Everything I know in this world does not exist. There is no man here who knows how to touch a little girl right. I am invisible, just like the snowmarkers, buried under forces that just are.

Velvet lifted her skirt and stepped into the biggest snow drift at the bottom of the hill. She began to climb up through the blinding snow, inventing as fast as she could, entire new worlds full of strong men and tropical islands and happy little girls, keeping her hand frozen tight on the 3 x 5 cards in her pocket all the way.

Velvet traveled for a very long time -- across mountains, over bridges and through dark tunnels. She pretended she was a pioneer woman from the olden-days, the kind she read about in libraries whenever she stopped in cities to get warm. She couldn't tell exactly if pioneer women had sex, or Daddies, or even any fun, but they were tough and they just kept going and at least they all wore long skirts like Velvet did.

She found a bright green light at the end of one tunnel after a long journey in November and began to climb up the big silver staircase with the sign that pointed to The Island of Daddies. She knew she was probably hallucinating because there was no such place on any map in any library, but then her hometown in the mountains didn't exist on maps either, and she knew she had lived there, at least during the nights.

My Daddy would like this island, she thought as she came to the top of the stairs and saw all the redwood trees. There aren't many islands with these kinds of trees on them. This is a place where he could pretend I was his little Eskimo girl and do all the sexy things he wanted to me under these trees. Velvet lifted her skirt to her waist and wrapped her arms around the big trunk of one tree and pretended she was tied there, pretended she couldn't move away but could still move her legs and her hips, pretended there was a circle of men watching her, and that her Daddy told her to close her eyes while he whipped her bottom.

After she came, she opened her eyes and saw that there was a circle of men watching her make love to the tree. One man, the tall dark-haired man with the green-blue eyes and the glasses who looked a lot like her Daddy but wasn’t, came to her and took her backpack off her back and made her sit down. A very nice backpack -- but it’s so heavy, he said. What do you carry?

Velvet sat with her skirt spread around her. She considered this circle of men and wondered if they knew her Daddy. I carry ideas, she finally answered. Ideas. Thoughts. Directions. Words. And stories, she added, turning to the large man with the twinkle in his eye, because we have to tell ourselves stories in order to live.

Velvet sat quietly on the lush green grass, her pretty small breasts bare, nipples at attention, waiting and watching. All of the Daddies in the circle wore light black cotton pants, the kind that tie at the waist, the kind where she could see hard cocks sticking straight out. As she smiled and looked carefully at each man, she noticed that two of the Daddies were not men at all, but women with nice bare breasts to match hers, even though their cocks were standing at attention also.

One of the girl-Daddies came to sit by Velvet and stroked her nipples, and she could feel that they weren't frozen anymore. The girl-Daddy pinched them, so Velvet cried out, reached down, and raised her skirt for everyone.

I don't think you will need these furry boots or mittens or earmuffs here, said the tall man on her left, taking them from her body until all she was left with was her raised black skirt. It's very hot here on our island.

I have to keep my skirt on, she told them, or my Daddy would be mad.

We understand, the man said. Now, turn over.

Velvet turned over and offered her bare bottom to him.. He pulled her on to his lap and began to spank her, while the other men came closer and sat around him. They passed Velvet from lap to lap and began to tell her stories about their island while each man spanked her, a little harder with every new lap. Maybe I've died and gone to Daddy-heaven, Velvet thought, but I wish they weren't so nice. I know they're going to be kind to me, and feed me, and treat me gently real soon, and I wish they would hurt me more instead.

The tall man with the big hands was the best spanker, and Velvet told him that he was almost as good as her Daddy. I play guitar, he explained. I will play a song for you tonight. She smiled and hoped he would play something sad.

Let's take her back to the tents and clean her up and feed her, another man said, after he spanked her red bottom and pinched her nipples and poked his finger in her pussy. We can pass her from tent to tent for other things later tonight.

The man who seemed to be in charge shook his head. Perhaps. Leave me alone with her for some time and we'll see. This is a complicated little girl we have here. She needs to remember what discipline is.

The other Daddies left them alone, and the man pulled Velvet to her feet, letting her skirt fall back down. My name is Will, he said, but you will call me Daddy.

Oh I can't do that, Velvet explained, I already have a Daddy and I'm just here because he is lost and I have to find him. I love him, and he needs me and he's just forgotten where I am.

She picked up her backpack full of ideas and began to strap it on her bare back. She liked these men and the way they touched her, but they didn't really touch her at all. She'd seen glimpses of her real Daddy while she was traveling, sometimes in cities when she was listening to music and sometimes near baseball parks, and once at 14,000 feet from the top of a mountain, and even though he always disappeared before she could reach him, the glimpses were enough to make her remember the secrets she shared with him and how he had invented her.

You will beg to call me Daddy before I'm through with you, the man said with a knowing laugh. You are the little girl I've been waiting for. He pulled a bright red leather collar from his pocket and placed it around Velvet's neck, attaching a chain to it. Come. We will go to my place and I will have you dream for me everything you know.

He pushed Velvet to the ground on all fours and began to lead her toward his cave on the beach, leash pulled up tight in one hand, riding crop in the other. She tucked her long black skirt in between her teeth so that she could crawl along quickly and correctly beside him. It's almost like the real thing she thought with a smile as the crop began to strike her ass when she couldn't keep up She could feel the heat begin to travel from her pussy to her nipples to her toes. I wonder if this new-Daddy knows anything about fire?

Tell me everything you know, little Velvet, the new-Daddy said when he had her chain securely fastened to one of the logs in the fire he had built in the firepit in the center of his cave. It will take a long time for that log to crumble, and I know you won't move far until then.

Velvet laughed. He had leaned her back against soft pillows on top of a rock, fastened her long chain from collar to log, and then wrapped big leather cuffs around her ankles, fastening them together. She loved that he had made a fire for her even though it wasn't cold. She loved not being able to move, loved looking at her ankles tied together, loved visiting this other possible world. I am afraid of nothing, she thought --nothing but the loss of the love that I once knew.

The new-Daddy stripped off his black pants, sat down on a big rock next to Velvet, and began to pinch her nipples -- pinching, twisting, pulling and then slapping her breasts casually in between pinches. Tell me, he said. Tell me.

She hoped he would never stop, and she liked watching his long, hard cock so close to her without touching. It's all in my backpack. I know a lot of things. He began to look through her backpack as she spoke. I can write poetry, she said. I can make up words and songs and names and entire worlds. I know what is true and what is not. I know that it's true that the world is made up not of atoms, but of stories. I can dance. I can fuck -- its what I do best `-- blowjobs, backrubs, kissing my Daddy's feet, bending over, kneeling, immersing myself in sensuality until I am lost, getting spanked, taking pain, begging, whispering silent secrets, creating new dimensions of sex. Velvet shifted under the pinch of the large brass clamps the new-Daddy was fastening onto her nipples. If I get confused, she added, I just look at the things I've written down on my cards and then I know how to live.

Does this hurt? the new-Daddy asked, tightening the clamps.

Yes.

Good. He pinched each clamp once more and listened to her moan. He ran his hands down across her lifted skirt and stroked her legs, careful not to touch her pussy, yet. No more confusion, baby. And the skirt. It has to go.

She tried to think of how to say 'no', but without her cards she was beginning to get lost. Tell me who you are again, please?

I am the King of this island, he told her, and now that you're here I can do anything with you that I want. Nobody will ever miss you, nobody will ever know where you are, nobody will bother us, nobody will ever hear your cries. Do you see all of the tools on the far wall?

She peered through the dark lit only by firelight to see every possible shape and size of rods and dildos and whips and things she had no name for. She nodded.

I will fuck you and use all of them on you, sooner or later. You are mine. But first, the skirt.

He picked a knife from the wall and brought it to her. Ask me to take your skirt away from you, Velvet.

No

He smiled and pinched the clamp on her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger, waiting for her to cry out, but she did not. He held the clamp out with one hand and slapped it with the other, leaving small red marks on both sides of her breast. Ask me.

No. I can't.

You will have a word to use, Velvet, if you want me to stop. For now, it's "Daddy."

Which Daddy,she wondered, and almost laughed, delighted that he was so clever.

Just one breast first, he said. There is an order to things. Watch me.

He picked up a hot stick from the fire and touched it to her nipple, lightly, just long enough to make her jump. He brought the burning stick down to her black skirt and let it sit on the fabric until it burned a hole in it, and this made her start to cry.

That's better, Velvet. I know how to find you. I am going to reinvent you from scratch, baby, just as soon as we get rid of some of these old ideas.

He brought out a rope and tied it around the base of her breast, making it bulge out slightly toward him. That's perfect -- I have all day for just this one breast. Watch me now.

She watched. He scratched up and down from her nipple to the rope with his fingernails, making a delicate zig-zag design of scratch-marks. He picked up the knife and began to poke gently around her nipple, watching for her reaction, then he would poke a little harder, like pinpricks, constant and intensely erotic to Velvet. She kept her hands behind her neck where he had put them, untied, and they both knew she could stop him, but that she would not. It would remain unspoken between them: she liked what he gave her, he liked to treat grown-up little girls this way.

When he was through with her breast and they were both in awe of the beautiful marks he had left, he said, One last chance, Velvet. I'll save you a piece of your skirt if you'll beg me.

She tried to say something but could not. She looked toward her backpack for help. The new-Daddy smiled, opened her backpack and brought out a 3 x 5 card and a marker. He wrote in big letters: When the new-Daddy tells you to submit, do it. When he asks for your skirt, offer it to him. When he begins to examine you, let him. Do exactly as this man says. He knows. He held the card up for Velvet to read.

She smiled, nodded and said, Please take my skirt away from me, new-Daddy.

He smiled and asked her to repeat what she had said.

Please take my skirt away from me, Velvet whispered, her eyes locked on his.

With one quick slash of the knife her long black skirt was off, leaving her stretched out naked, chained by her collar to the log in the firepit. She watched as the new-Daddy cut the skirt up into pieces, burning all but one in the fire. He placed that piece back in her pack with her stories.

He raised his foot and pushed her sideways in the dirt, making her fall on her side close to the fire. Unlocking her ankles, he spread her legs and began to examine her, picking up the burning stick from the fire and touching her lightly, ever so lightly, each time she tried to move. He pulled the rope off of her breast, unsnapped the clamps to her cries, and turned her over with her face in the dirt. He sat down cross-legged by the fire and pulled her legs up onto his lap and spread them wide, her ass on his lap, her hands still freely clasped behind her neck like a good girl, her pussy touching against his hard cock.

This is how it begins, he said, and he spread her pussy lips and slid his cock all the way into her deep and hard and fast, and then held still. This is how it begins, he repeated, and you will know who I am. He pulled her back further onto his lap until her legs wrapped back around his waist. He spread her ass and began to explore with his left hand, reaching until his long finger in her ass could feel his cock inside of her pussy. Yes, he said, and with his other hand he picked up the hot stick by the fire again and struck her across the ass. I am going to mark your ass, little girl, he said, the way you want me to. I will keep you sore enough to make us both happy. You'll kneel, you'll crawl, you'll lie on your belly and beg me to do more, but you'll never sit and look at me like you think you know more than I do. You'll know how to behave.

Velvet didn't say a word -- she just lay belly-down in the dirt with her face close to the fire and almost as warm as the rest of her body. She pushed herself back a little tighter onto his cock the best that she could.

He grabbed her ass in his hands and began to move her back and forth on his cock, fucking her so high and hard inside that she felt it all the way up to her heart. He would stop, explore her ass, smack her bottom hard with the stick, then start again, over and over and over until the rhythm was inside of her and she was moving her pussy back onto his cock by herself and she was begging him to strike her again. When her ass was red and sore enough, he pulled out of her pussy, raised her hips to him and held her ass hard where it was so red. He spread her apart and slid his wet cock home into her ass until her cries of pleasure rose to match his.

Every push, every shove as he fucked her, drove her sweet face closer to the fire, so close that she had no choice but to push back hard against him, her ass fucking his cock, taking him higher inside of her until she thought she would come apart and she thought maybe that was exactly what she wanted. He laid her down flat in the dirt with her legs spread wide and he laid hard on top of her with his cock up her ass and his hands tangled in her hair, pushing her face into the dirt. His mouth found her neck and he bit down into her soft skin, harder and then harder until she felt his force run through every inch of her body, and she knew who he was and why he was and she knew his name and all the reasons of the universe. He came long and hard up inside of her ass and he held her there on the ground until she was able to breathe again.

When Velvet was finally able to open her eyes and look up at him, there passed between them all the knowledge that can never be said. Call me Daddy, he said. It will be all that you need. They sat close by the fire while she recovered. She curled up between his legs and they listened to the rainfall that had begun outside of the cave door. He gave her sips of water from his cup, and he watched her, and petted her like the precious object that she was.

Pick up your backpack, Velvet, he finally whispered when she was wide awake and smiling again. Pick it up and dump all the paper into the fire. Now. Do it.

She listened to her new-Daddy's voice. It didn't seem like a very good idea, but his voice was strong and sure.

Why?

He laughed and ran his fist up through her tangled hair and turned her head sharply to face him. Because I said so. He kissed her hard, forcing his tongue deep into her throat until she could barely breathe. Because I own you; because it will be my job to reinvent you correctly, because you are going to be nothing but my little paper doll, dressing for me, moving for me, composing all new stories and ideas just for me.

But I've finished all my stories, she began to say...

No, Velvet. Nothing is ever done. Everything in the world remains to be done or done over. The greatest picture is not yet painted, the greatest play isn't written, the greatest song is unsung. You think you're done, Velvet, just because you lost someone in your life? You haven't even begun.

The new-Daddy held Velvet tightly in front of the fire as she emptied all the papers from her backpack into the fire. She watched the flames slowly devour her ideas, and she trembled in the new-Daddy's arms as she felt a clearing in her heart, a white open space that looked brand new. As soon as the last paper was burnt beyond recognition, she felt new ideas and imagination beginning to flow into the white space, and she turned toward him and began to twirl around him, softly reciting words she had never heard before --

Frost saints dance
across blackthorn winters
	arms outstretched
		        to sense
			falling
			     snow
			          tiny white flakes hide
			          the glint of perception
			     traces of meaning
			 etched
		            softly
		       below . . .

He smiled, then stopped her with a kiss, dressed her in nothing but her red leather collar and a long black satin cape with a hood, and said, It's time, Velvet. We have many men who need stories in order to live. Follow me to the tents.

She began to follow him out of the cave, stopping only for a second to stoop and retrieve the fragment of her black skirt that lay mostly unburnt by the side of the fire She hid it quickly on a high rock just to the left of the doorway, and then happily followed her new-Daddy into the dark night of her new world.

 

The Labyrinth of Love and Thorns

Velvet and her new Daddy walked quietly through the warm rain. He wore a black satin cape to match hers, with his hood pulled off, because the falling rain did not seem to make him wet at all. Velvet delighted in walking barefoot over grass and sand and the flowing purple moss he told her they called velvet. The entire grounds of the island seemed to be made of softness, with not a single pebble or rough stone to step upon.

Velvet danced as they traveled, laughing, twirling her cape in a circle around her, letting the rain touch her bare skin. She was almost able to forget that she had existed before the Island of Daddies, although she had clear memories of great piles of snow. Nutaryuk, she told the new-Daddy, that’s what the Eskimos say for fresh snow. Aniu, qanuk, natquik – they have dozens of words for almost the same thing because it's so important. My favorite is qanisqineq -- snow floating on water, she explained to him, because he needed to understand. I think I will invent a hundred words for hope, she said, maybe one for "hope falling gently," and then "hope rising in the absence of words," "hope against reason," and "hope for fragile hearts."

He pulled her to him, lowered her hood, and with one hand tight on her red collar, he kissed her. His other hand ran down to her pussy, sliding two fingers inside of her to help slow her down. You are going to tell us a story tonight while all of the Daddies examine you and use you, sweet Velvet – are you ready for this? The story will have to be long, and sexy, and cruel – and you know that it has to make me hard while you’re telling it. Or else.

Velvet was sure that she knew those words, and they made her so happy that she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again, wrapping her hands in his hair, pressing into him, riding his fingers inside of her up and down until she finally asked for permission to come.

Not yet, baby, he said. You'll wait.

Yes, Daddy.

At the sound of her words, the rain suddenly stopped and the sun reappeared, casting the island in a sunset glow of red/orange/yellow/green/blue/indigo/violet, turning Velvet’s pale skin beneath the cape the prettiest color of gentle pink. He held her tightly for a long time, until all of her tears were gone and every trace of rain had completely disappeared.

 . 

---

 . 

The birds began to appear after Velvet came past the cliffs – orange and red and yellow, with long pointed wings, they flew in an odd, looping formation that looked to Velvet almost like a spiral staircase. Velvet ran after them, following their lead, until they arrived at the entrance to what looked like an enormous field of ten-foot-high rose bushes.

It's a bit of a maze, said her new-Daddy, a labyrinth of love and thorns made special for little girls. We can’t have just anyone wander into the tents.

At the entrance to the maze sat two oversized little-girl dolls, complete with red and white taffeta party dresses and blond ringlets -- when Velvet passed them she thought that she heard them stand up and cheer. The bushes were covered with giant blue roses that shimmered in the sparkling lights that were draped on what looked like guard-bridges high above. Lead the way for me, Velvet, her new-Daddy said, removing her cape and draping it over his arm, letting her stand bare in front of him.

Velvet looked all around at the beauty and was overwhelmed. High above she could see another Daddy standing guard on the bridge, watching her. It looked like it might be one of the girl-Daddies, her brown skin glowing in the lights, her breasts high and proud, her cock strong and at attention. It’s just a game, Velvet thought, and I’m a good little girl at playing games, I can do this. She walked slowly at first through the paths, carefully avoiding the roses and their thorns. Her new-Daddy followed ten feet behind her, not saying a word. At some of the corners where she had to choose which way to go, there sat little-girl dolls, some of them tiny and some of them as tall as her, and sometimes as she rounded each corner she was sure they reached out and touched her leg. She thought that some of them whispered as she passed – left , right, slower, faster, the thorns, the roses -- but when she looked back they were only dolls, cute but not moving at all.

Velvet finally stood at one corner and realized she was hopelessly lost and going in circles, and she knew she had to ask for help. What do I do, Daddy? she asked softly, almost in tears, because the wandering had begun to make her sad.

Be still and listen and you will know which way to go.

The voice was clear, but it did not come from him. He only moved closer to her and wiped her tears. He picked a blue rose and ran it gently down over her nipples to her pussy, leaving traces of blue velvet across her body. Kneeling before her, he spread her legs, and pulling off each petal one by one, he placed them inside of her, filling her with the aroma of the rose. Pay attention, Velvet. We want to see more than just your beautiful form walking through roses.

Velvet looked up and realized that many Daddies were now on the bridges, all of them naked and at attention. She smiled. And she began to walk lightly, and listen.

Turn left, a voice from nowhere said, and she did, not caring whether the voice was in her head or from the nearest doll or a secret Daddy.

Right.

Left.

Straight ahead.

Stop.

She stood very still in front of the doll that was her height and looked like a princess-Barbie turned slut, wearing stockings, garters and those giant bare breasts.

Suck them.

Velvet never hesitated, the command was so clear in her head. She leaned into the doll and began to suck her nipples, and as she did, the doll came to life and wrapped its hands in Velvet’s long black hair and pushed her mouth harder onto its nipples. Velvet sucked, one breast then the other, until she was lost in the sensation. A Daddy came up behind them, and Velvet thought it wasn't either one of her real Daddies but she didn’t care. He lifted Velvet up and wrapped her legs around the doll’s waist, laying them down on the soft path with the doll face down on top of Velvet and the Daddy on top of the doll’s ass, and he begin to fuck them both into the ground.

 . 

---

 . 

Touch the thorn.

Pick three roses and tuck them inside your cunt.

Kneel and kiss the doll’s feet.

Velvet did every single thing she was told to do without hesitation, and she hoped that while she was getting lost in the heat of behaving she was also getting closer to where she needed to be. She began to love to touch the thorns, to prick her fingers and her breasts and any place else she was told to touch. She was filled with roses – woven in her hair, wrapped around her wrists, her collar, tucked inside her pussy and her ass. Maybe if I never find my way out I can just hold still and stay here like a little doll and fuck other little girls when they come through.

She began to dance through the paths, singing, watching birds overhead and Daddies above and her new-Daddy always staying a ways behind her, watching her watching him.

Suddenly all of the lights from the bridges went out and Velvet was left in complete darkness.

Lie down.

Velvet stopped where she was and obeyed, trying to peer through the dark. There was only silence, and she was suddenly afraid that she had been left alone and maybe she didn’t want to turn into a doll after all.

She touched the roses in her pussy so that she would feel safe, even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to. She pushed all of the petals she could find deeper and deeper inside of her, and she wondered if a little girl could fill herself up enough with flowers so that she never needed to be fucked by a Daddy again.

Time passed and Velvet lay very still and began to dream. She dreamed that she was lost in a snowstorm and that she had to build an igloo so that she could save all of the roses inside of her. There were roses wrapped around icicles and there was a tunnel that she had to crawl through on her knees and then there were hands.

There were more hands touching Velvet then she had ever felt, and they touched her softly and petted her and the hands followed the lines of every mark on her body. There was a chant that she did not recognize and there were male voices and female voices and they were turning her over and petting her, and she thought she might die from the love and attention of so many hands. She was picked up and wrapped in hands and then kissed, kissed so hard and so long that it brought her to her knees, and then she was picked up again and kissed by another mouth and more hands and brought back to her knees, over and over until she did not exist except as a little girl doll to be kissed and loved and touched and used.

The hands became rougher, reaching, pulling, pushing, exploring, all in the dark where she could not see, but the Daddies seemed to see her just fine. Fingers slid inside of her pussy and she thought there was one and then two and then maybe five or maybe ten, and they all reached up inside of her and turned her inside out while the fingers in her mouth felt like a dozen cocks trying to fuck her mouth all at the same time.

There was more chanting and then a rhythmic touching began, all of the fingers pinching her at the very same time and then pausing, inside and out, and then beginning again, feeling and then not feeling, coming and then not, all of them riding the same wave of possession over and over until Velvet began to disappear into her dreams and became the hero of her own life as she whispered the only word she had said since they began.

Come.

All of the Daddies came at once on Velvet, covering her with their fluids, coating her from head to toe, filling her mouth, washing her clean with their passion.

Velvet rose as if in a dream and led them all out of the maze and toward the tents, floating toward her destiny, ready to tell all of the stories she could ever invent.

 . 

---

 . 

The new-Daddy held Velvet under the shower for a long time, washing her clean. A girl-Daddy joined them -- she had bright red hair and freckles and painted lips, and Velvet couldn’t keep her eyes off of how beautiful she looked with her nice pink cock pressed up against Velvet’s leg. She combed through Velvet’s long hair and pulled it back and laced it into one long braid running down her back. It will be in the way, the girl-Daddy explained.

Velvet looked toward her Daddy. I am so proud of you, he said. You were the best. You deserve everything that you are going to get.

The Eskimo Girl and the Six Impossible things

It’s not every day that you get to see so many tents made out of silver lights, Velvet thought to herself happily as she stood in her special place in the courtyard and looked around. She had been cleaned up, fed, rested, and otherwise pampered beyond experience. This kindness is almost sexy, she told her new-Daddy while they were all decorating her body. Did I invent all of you? Where exactly are we and how did you get here?

He laughed and told her to hush. All that matters is now, Velvet. Living in yesterday is a waste of your valuable heart. Here, tonight, is the only place you or I or anyone else exists. He had kissed her one last time, and then placed a single silver clamp on the tip of her tongue to remind her not to speak again until asked.

Velvet watched the lights silently, and watched the Daddies arriving, and thought that he was probably right. It doesn’t matter if I dream of snow, or if dolls talk to me, or nobody loves me or everybody does, as long as I tell this story right tonight.

She walked slowly around the perimeter of the stone circle that she was confined in. She looked up to see the high, empty wooden platform above her head, and she looked down at herself to admire the work of art her body had become. Silver paint glistened in tiny words and elegant symbols across her breasts and belly and ass, none of which were decipherable to her. It’s your permanent set of instructions, he had told her during the painting, so that even in the strangest of places, you will never be lost again. Long ropes woven of deep red and silver flowers wrapped up around her legs, attached to her pussy with a pinch that she remembered with pleasure, wrapped around her waist, and then continued on to trail behind her like the train from a wedding dress, swirling each time she turned in a different direction.

Small silver and crimson lights shimmered from her hair, braiding down her back, around her collar and up over her ears. She could sense her own light reflecting off the smile of each Daddy who arrived as they walked up to her, stepped into her circle, kissed her hand, and then each of her nipples, before they returned to sit on their high wooden risers in a circle around her.

The Daddy with the big hands played the guitar for her, and when he began to play the sad, old songs, Velvet stood freely and beautifully in her circle, head held high, and she felt new words flowing directly into her. One word floated inside of her over and over again -- angelissima -- and she knew that it was the eternal word that meant hope for fragile hearts.

Her new-Daddy came into the circle and removed the clamp from her tongue. He looked her up and down one more time, touched her chin, and said only, Begin.

Velvet smiled proudly and began to invent:

Once there was a grown-up little Eskimo girl named Angelissima, who lived on a tropical island with only her Daddy and all the animals. The rest of the world had wars, and crowded places with too many people who didn’t look at each other, and computers and jobs to keep people busy, but they had only themselves and the island. Angelissima was so in love with her Daddy that she would do anything for him. Today, he would say, you will have to do six impossible things for me before breakfast, just like the Red Queen. She laughed, because she thought she always did impossible things for him, even though she knew that was not possible. On this day, she called him Orlando, because he made her invent new and beautiful names for him all the time.

Yes, Orlando, she said, six impossible things. And she lifted her long fuzzy white skirt and bent backwards over a block of ice that she created just for him, spreading her legs for him to examine her as he liked to do every day.

A tall Daddy approached Velvet’s circle and began to touch her while she spoke. Don’t stop, he whispered as he knelt in front of her and spread her legs. She couldn’t help but pause for breath when he probed inside of her pussy and then attached a silver strand of tiny bells directly to her clit, hanging down delicately between her legs. She recovered her voice, and as she turned back to the Daddies to continue her story, the chimes were like soft church bells, beckoning all to gather inside.

Orlando ran his fingers up inside of Angelissima, making her squirm against the block of ice. Spread wider, he said, pushing her legs apart, and she knew she couldn’t, but did it anyway. Her body had been changed by him in many ways, and every day he worked to change it a little more. She didn’t want to exist for normal reasons in the world, so she liked this a lot, and hoped that one day he would transform her completely, so that she looked more like a butterfly, or a bird, or maybe a wave in the ocean, than just a girl.

The red-haired girl-Daddy with the bright lips came into Velvet’s circle with her hands full of berries. She put the berries in her mouth and gave Velvet the long kiss of passion, the kiss that silenced Velvet for a moment, the kiss that transferred the juice of the berries between mouths until Velvet’s lips matched the girl-Daddy’s and always would, with the permanent scarlet stain that showed her to be who she was.

The story began to flow more easily from her red lips:

I am homesick today, Angelissima, Orlando told her. I want you to build us an igloo here on the island so that we can remember what it was like where we came from. She couldn’t help but laugh, even with his fingers deep inside of her. You can’t build an igloo in a tropical forest, she told him, and for that he began to punish her. He slapped her and his fingers twisted hard inside of her. He slid the rest of his hand deep inside of her up to his wrist. She could feel the ice melting beneath her as she heated up, so she turned and rotated on his fist and let her front side become cold, giving him her ass to spank while he reached inside of her. But only the cold was even the smallest bit of punishment, because it is impossible to punish little girls who like to be hurt, unless you disappear completely from their lives.

Two Daddies approached Velvet together and lifted her up, legs spread wide, and carried her around the circle as she spoke, pausing by each Daddy so that they could attach things to her bell pull and place clamps on different parts of her body, giving her their gifts of silver and gold and pain and pleasure.

Orlando left Angelissima alone so that she could try to please him. The first step in building an igloo, she knew, was to prepare the blocks with a snow-saw, but she didn’t have any snow, or a saw, so she began to enlist the help of the smartest-looking animals on the island, the wolves. She had noticed many times that wolves seemed to know all the secrets of their island, and that they, like all of the animals, were never sad. They took her to the coldest part of the highest stream, circled around her, sat on her legs to keep her warm, and helped her build the snow-blocks she needed. They seemed to know that if her Daddy left her alone for very long, she got very cold, and they would nuzzle their noses up under her skirt and her sweater to help heat her up. She knew she would owe them things later on but it didn’t matter. She had so often been afraid that if Orlando was gone too long she would turn to ice, and then she would be left with nobody left to love and nothing to do but to run with the wolves, because she could only ever have one real Daddy, and then there would be none.

When the Daddies set Velvet back down in her circle, she looked around, feeling light-headed, and realized she had no idea how many Daddies there really were. She noticed that some of them looked almost identical if the lights shined on them just the right way, and she thought one or maybe two looked like her real-Daddy. But she was warm, so warm, and the Daddies kept touching and commanding her, so she kept inventing for them as fast as she could:

The snow blocks had to be set on the hard ground in a slant, and in a spiral shape, in order to build the dome. Angelissima worked hard, and when she was finished, she dug out the doorway and curled up inside the igloo to wait for Orlando. He was very pleased, and he gave her a big blue rose he had found on a bush nearby . The last impossible thing is the hardest, he told her. He kissed her and pulled on her tongue and then placed a silver clamp on the end of it. Tell me a story, Angelissima, he said, even though you can’t speak. Tell me a story about a girl lost on a tropical island full of Daddies, a girl who knows how to please even more than you do…

Velvet was lifted up and placed on the wooden platform, leaving her standing there with only her real/old/new Daddy, with all of the lights shining directly on them. He bent her over and told her to grasp her ankles and keep talking, and then he parted her waves of flowers until her ass was bare for him. As he spread her cheeks wide to prepare her to receive his final gift while everyone watched, snow began to fall lightly around them, glistening, swirling, falling in rhythm, landing in circular patterns of spiraled white…

Once there was a grown-up little girl named Velvet, Angelissima began to write down for Orlando on the walls of their igloo, who lived in a beautiful mountain town, a town full of skiers and hot springs and reggae music and very deep snow. The snow was so deep that she had to carve a steep spiral staircase out of snow just to get up and out of her doorway and be able to leave her house…

The End