Passing the Baton 2; Lila's Story
Copyright© 2010 by Polecat
Chapter 8
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 8 - Did anyone wonder what happened to Lila? This is her story. Please read "Passing the Baton" first, or it will make no sense. Warning: Very dark but romantic story and contains snuff. You've been warned.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Reluctant BiSexual Heterosexual BDSM DomSub MaleDom Rough Sadistic Torture Snuff Interracial White Female Oral Sex Anal Sex Fisting Slow Caution
It was a warm October afternoon; she remembers the date, October 14th. Colette watched her Grandfather sitting in the backyard, drinking whiskey. She played with her Barbie dolls, only bothered a little by her nine year old Brother, Lou, running about with a large plastic model of a B17 bomber. The boy flew about the garden with his toy bomber, attacking whatever it is that nine year old boys attack with toy bombers. She concentrated on her dolls, ignoring him, as she usually did.
She doesn't know what made her look up, at her grandfather. There was something wrong, she sensed it. Perhaps it was the way he held his shot glass, perhaps it was something else. She looked at the old man's face. She dropped her dolls and approached her grandfather silently. He no longer watched Lou, his eyes lost in the distance. His face trembled.
Nothing like this had ever happened, but she sensed, as girls do, that there was something wrong, very wrong. The glass dropped from his hand, to roll on the grass, unnoticed. The old man stood up and turned to run into the house. She rushed to follow him, what she saw on his face freezing her with fear.
Grand Pa was crying.
"What's wrong Grand Pa?" She cried as she ran behind him.
Her brother did not even notice.
The old man ran to his room with his granddaughter hard on his heels. He sat in the armchair, and tried to wave her off, but she would not be dissuaded.
"What's wrong Grand Pa? Why are you crying?"
He waved at her to leave.
"Shall I call Mommy? Are you sick?"
"Don't call your mother. I'm OK."
"No you are not. You are crying," She knelt by his chair.
His hand fondled her hair sadly, "I just remembered something sad."
"Mommy says that if you share your sad memories, they feel better."
"Your Mommy is wise Colette."
"So tell me, what happened?"
The old man tried to contain a sob, and failed miserably.
"What is it Grand Pa?" the girl insisted, "You can tell me, I won't tell."
She took his hand from her hair and kissed it, "You'll feel better."
"Yes, perhaps I will; perhaps I will."
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