Daddy Fucked My Ass At The Christmas Market

The outdoor Christmas market was a winter wonderland, wooden stalls draped in fairy lights, the smell of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts. My father Arthur bought me a chunky knit scarf and a mug of glühwein. We wandered hand in hand, ice skaters spinning in the rink nearby. Snow began to fall. He pulled me into a quiet alley between the stalls, and the only light came from the stars above.