Thread: Don't Touch Me (Ishu and LycanDesire)

She didn't think much of him touching her hair when her father came down out of no where. He liked to touch her hair quite a bit and she always assumed it was because of the strange color. Ishu's hair was pure white, like fresh snow. However, when she watched him stagger into the kitchen she became weary. It didn't help that he slurred while asking her to come in and help him cook. When he asked things of her they never went well and she could, almost always, tell when something was going to happen. It didn't have to be big but it was always... inappropriate. A part of her wanted to sink into the cushions of the couch and fall into another dimension. The other part of her wanted to bolt for the front door and run until she died from frost bite. The rest of her, the tiny little part that craved security, knew that her life was somewhat predictable and that he would always take care of her. This was the only part of her that let her stay. Ishu got up from the couch and took off her shoes, tucking them under the coffee table by her bookbag. She walked, quietly, into the kitchen and watched him from across the room, her socked feet silent on the linoleum. It must have been a full five minutes of her staring at his back as the water boiled. If felt like an eternity as her heart pounded in her chest, her anxiety building up as her logical brain began to register the scenario. He'd moved towards her, looking into her pale blue eyes as he leaned down and pressed his lips on hers. Her skin became cold and clammy, one of the first steps of her panic. At the mention of her mother, her heart stopped for a moment, the feeling of terror fading briefly. He commanded her to warm up the sauce. She hurried over to the other side of the kitchen and got out a smaller pan and set it down on a back burner set for a low heat. Stuffing the can under an electric can-opener, she held it as it spun counter clockwise and the lid popped off. She began to pour the red semi-liquid into the pan when her father pressed up against her, the subtle outline of his erection bearing into her skin. Her hand began to shake as she poured and his own hands dazzled up her front, picking the buttons apart like they were nothing to him. Ishu swallowed as her skin began to tremble and she set the can down before letting her father move her arms as he removed her shirt. She had learned he would do this front time to time and she had begun to cope with it in her own way. Instead of wearing just a bra underneath her shirts she often wore a camisole as well. This one was white, like her shirt, and had adjustable straps. The top cut had a bit of lace on it because, well, it was a female top and the designer wanted it to be more appealing. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter when he continued to her skirt, his hand feeling the bottom of her bum and stripping her. Her legs lifted one at a time as he removed her skirt, the stubble from his face making her skin crawl as he helped her into a pair of small jogging shorts. His hands, greasy from lust, groped at her fresh, soft legs before patting her butt, her eyes nearly popping out of her skull. She nodded while pressing her lips so hard together they turned white. Her skin was clammy all over and trembling like she was sick. She thought she might actually be, touching her hand to her forehead to wipe away a thin sheen of sweat. Her cheeks were on fire and her throat felt tight. Ishu waited for him to walk away and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw he was gone. She stepped over to one of the drawers and stumbled through it with her hands until she found an inhaler. Just to be safe, she used it once and put it back before moving back to the sauce and stirring it.