This part takes place at the same time as part three, but with a different perspective of the events and since this one has an incest theme and the other a Non-con theme, I separated them. I understand some don't enjoy both. I love to write what I like but I never want to have someone blindsided or disgusted with my stories if I can help it.
The Good Daughter.
1904, Crawling Rock, Louisiana.
Rhonda Jones was eighteen years old and hadn't seen a damn thing in those vital years. She was raised in a small community twenty miles outside Baton Rouge, in a small wooden shack with five children and two adults. Her day was spent helping her stepmother, Lily with her younger siblings, three of which belonged to her late mother.
Lily was sweet enough to her, and filled the vacant spot in her heart from losing a parent at a young age. But her father, Robby, had never paid her much attention even before her mother passed away. He hardly acknowledged her when he was around and he was rarely ever, spending his days in the fields and his nights drinking outside the home.
Now that she had gotten older, it had become worse. Robby would keep his eyes on the floor when he stumbled past her to go to bed.
Far from lonely, Rhonda was loved by her family. With so many cousins, aunts and uncles to keep her cheerful, she knew having her father's love would seal the deal of healing her soul.
The Jones village was small and somewhat crowded. In 1865, George Jones, along with his wife and seven rowdy boys had settled between the town and the swamp. It was home and where their children's children had grown over the last four decades.
Since losing their matriarch, Chelsea Jones, a decade ago, the family farm rarely had visitors, if any. A few distant cousins, who had run off to a better life came through to check in while some brave explorers peeked around what was known as Devil's Lake a quarter mile off, which separated the blacks and whites in the marsh area. Most were scared of both the white swamp family and the darker swamp people that inhabited the other side.
Tonight, the Jones household gathered in front of George's cabin while he slept inside, fighting the same fever he had been battling for months.
There in the moonlight, Rhonda entertained dozens of cousins and danced around to the folk songs her uncles played on various fiddles and drums in the front yard.
Her youngest uncle, Pip, was in awe as he watched Rhonda shag around, gleefully dancing with her older cousin, Buck. The young boy, however tall, couldn't control her curves nor her slick movements.
Pip watched her hips sway in a simple tight frock with a plunging neckline. She had a wiggling ass and his eyes roamed to her toned calves. Since his move to the city weeks ago, something vital had blossomed in his niece and he loved her new developed body.
Rhonda was a breath of feminine air their land hadn't seen in a while. Her nice rack was a new addition and the blood rushed to his cock as his eyes followed the sway of her milky bust.
Taking a sip of moonshine liquor, Pip stood to six feet and walked over, shadowing her small frame.
“Rho, just what the hell do you think you're doing?” He asked with a tipsy smirk.
Puzzled, Rhonda looked up at him before he grabbed her hand, spinning her toward him.
He chuckled and swirled her around, “I bet you can't dance like those girls in the night clubs, can you?”
“I don't know….”
“Come here and I'll teach you.”
Rhonda giggled as his arm clutched her waist from behind, smashing his crotch into her backside.
“Move your hips,” he urged.
Rhonda danced and tried to keep up with his wild movements. His hips bucked behind her. Then, he spun her out again, before expertly bringing her back to his warm body.
“This is how city folks dance,” Pip informed.
Rhonda thought herself a skillful dancer but had never danced this raunchy and never with a man. She didn't go to town much and stayed cooped up on the few acres of their property.
Pip bit his lip and wondered if she could feel his passion pushing roughly against his britches, “Hmm, just like that, Rho.”
Clutching her tight in his embrace, he merged his head over to kiss her cheek. She was a beautiful girl, a bit short for his liking, but that shouldn't have mattered. She was his niece.
Rhonda giggled as his hairy brims kissed her neck.
“You ain't bad at this,” he whispered against her ear.
“Thank you, Uncle Pip.”
Pip scoffed, “You are the same age as my sister, you ain't gotta call me that, we used to play together when we were youngin’s.”
“I know but…”
“But nothing, Hell, I ain't that old. I only got but ‘bout six years on you. We grew up together. You used to piss the bed, remember?”
“I did not! I do remember you bullying me and pulling my hair when I was young.”
“You were like a little sister to me, I had to tease you,” Pip chuckled, rolling his touch across her arched hip,”Plus….” he paused to pinch her butt and she giggled from the pang.
“You were a mean little gal.”
“I ain't mean no more. Ima good girl. But, you're still a bully,” Rhonda popped his arm as it curled back around her stomach.
“Well, I surely apologize.”
“It's alright, you were never as bad as Uncle Ray. He's the mean one.”
“I can go for that. Ray used to hang me upside down by my feet. He was the strongest of us brothers,” Pip laughed as he reminisced, “If he was still alive, he would be proud, you've become such a sweet young woman.”
“Thank you, Uncle Pip.”
Pip twirled his eyes upward, “Lord girl, quit calling me that.”
“Well, what do you want me to call you then?” Rhonda swooned in his warm embrace as he swayed her in a dance. He had a foreign masculine touch that warmed her heart. She loved her uncle like a brother.
“Just my name. or…”
“Or what? Bully?” Rhonda giggled at her taunt.
“I wouldn't dream of hurting you, sweetheart, but I could see myself making you feel real good,” he whispered, sliding his tongue across her ear, “We could take our dance in the woods and I could show you some more unsavory moves.”
Rhonda was stunned from the tingling sensation riding up her spine. Her heart raced with some odd sensations. She felt butterflies in her stomach. Embarrassed by her attraction to her uncle, she paused their dance to turn and smile.
“I want to thank you for the dance, Uncle Pip. I only call you Uncle on account of my Daddy saying I should show respect to my elders,” she frowned, “he said since you are my uncle and Mae is my aunt, I need to address y'all as such.”
“I wouldn't worry much about what that drunk bastard says,” Pip chuckled.
Offended, Rhonda frowned, sidestepping him to dance with another. Pip caught her hand and apologized, although that was his honest opinion of his brother. He was met with her downturned pink lips and swept his fingers along her cheeks causing her icy stare to thaw in her doe eyes.
“I'm sorry,” he smiled, “I know how much you love your Daddy.”
Averting her eyes down, she gave a desperate sigh, “He doesn't love me.”
“What? Why the hell would you say something like that?” Pip frowned, “Of course he does. We all love you very much.”
Bringing her pale hand to his lips, he kissed it, leaving a tongue trail over her fingers, “You love me too, don't you? Or have you forgotten me since I’ve been away.”
Rhonda smiled, shaking her head, “No, I still love you.”
“Your Pa raised you well, so he did something good with his life. You are becoming just as pretty as your Mama was.”
“What was she like?”
“Kind hearted, funny, smart, and whew, was she one pretty lady. I used to be smitten with her. Had the thought I'd steal her away from your Daddy. But I was only a kid,” he chuckled.
“You had a crush on my mama,” Rhonda giggled.
“She used to make my heart race,” Pip brought her hand to his heart, “Now you're here doing the same damn thing.”
Bashfully, Rhonda shook her head and looked toward her father, lost in his cup. She often wondered if he felt the same. His head hung down in drunkenness and she wanted to talk to him but feared he would dismiss her as always.
“You ought to come visit me sometime if your Pa allows it,” Pip said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Mmhm, I should see about him,” Rhonda said, keeping her eyes on her father.
“He’s alright. Come on, give me one more dance,” Pip smiled, tugging her toward him, “I'm going back to town tomorrow and I probably won't come back this way for a while.”
“I'll see you next time,” she grinned, unfolding her hand from her his, “Bye, Pip,” she giggled with a cutesy wave.
Rhonda stepped up to her father and petted his brown, wavy crown. She thought assisting him home would be a way to make him notice her. They could walk hand and hand home and share stories from the past.
He looked up with a frown before dropping his head down and nudging from her nurturing touch.
“Go on,” Robby grumbled, “quit touching me.”
“Daddy, you ought to go home and sleep it off.”
“Who are you to tell me what I ought to do?”
The Jones men were known to produce males and it had been a shame eighteen years ago when Robby hurried into his cabin to find his first wife had birthed a girl. It was a curse he thought and didn't show her any of the affection he had saved for his first son.
“Oh, come on, Daddy,” Rhonda lifted his head and caressed his bushy beard, “Last time, Uncle Fred had to carry you home. You didn't make it to the bed and slept on the porch. You were ill as a snake when you woke up,” she giggled but shivered as she remembered the violent night, “If you can walk now, best we go head home.”
