Daddy's Little Princess Page 2

  “This is the actress, not her,” someone said.

  “But who is she then? I want to know right away.” The voice that spoke last came closer to me. I still had my eyes shut. I hoped he would leave me alone.

  “I found her bag in your office. She must be some business type. She had a computer with her, a couple of books and notepads, pens, keys and this is her wallet.”

  I wanted to protest, but the sides of my mouth were tingling. The ball had left it numb. Breathing steadily was the most important thing just now. I had to concentrate on that, even if those idiots were about to find out my true identity.

  I had told him my pen name before. I also wrote other books that were very serious, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to also write spanking stories. The laptop upstairs held every book I had ever written. These weren’t the type of people I trusted with my secret.

  “Rebecca Ford. Google her quickly,” someone yelled. I guessed the voice I heard was baldy. I heard footsteps running away again.

  “Boss, this isn’t good. She is a famous author. She wrote a book about domestic abuse. There was a picture there and everything. It is really her.”

  “Oh my God, I remember now. I had an interview with a romance author. Does she write books like that too?”

  “I don’t think so. She writes books for kids and psychological thrillers. She is really famous. Never does interviews, lives alone in the woods somewhere. Very private,” he whispered. “She is big on human rights in third world countries and feeding the poor.”

  I felt them staring at me. I stayed still. The only tone I would have been able to make was a moan. I was cold. I wouldn’t be able to stop from shaking soon.

  Someone picked me up and moved me, so I was sitting. My eyes flew open. It was baldy. “What were you doing here?”

  “My agent made an appointment for me,” I answered.

  “Why?” He shook me, so I would answer him.

  “She wanted me to interview the people here.”

  “Why?” His eyes were a cold black, and they were staring my brown ones down.

  I lied to him. “To find out if everything is really voluntary like you advertise.”

  He let go of me, and I dropped back down to the mattress. He got up and paced up and down. “We can’t let her go. She would go to the cops, and they would shut this place down and lock us up. Damn it.” He turned back to me. “Who all knows you’re here?” He kicked the mattress to get my attention.

  “My agent, who made the appointment and lots of other people; my neighbors, the mailman who was dropping off the mail as I was leaving, and lots of people from work.”

  He smiled at me cruelly. “That’s odd. On the Internet it says you live very reserved and all alone. I don’t believe you.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head to his chest. “What would you do if I let you walk out of the door?”

  “I tried to tell you that this was all a mistake. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I would go to the hospital.”

  He slapped me. “There is nothing wrong with you. You don’t need to go to the hospital.” He grabbed onto my ear and pulled me up the stairs. He took me into his office. My stuff was spread out on his desk. My laptop was open. I tried to get away from him, but he still easily held onto my ear, which was burning in pain. I needed to rub it so badly.

  He pulled me over with him to his desk. He held my ear low as he looked through my things. I had to hold my head at his hip level. I felt so stupid.

  He picked up my stuff and looked through it. He threw things back down on the table. “Password.”

  I wasn’t about to tell him that.

  “What is the password?” He moved his hand, pulling me in front of his face. My ear had to move with his hand. He was staring me down again. I looked back at him like I had no idea what he wanted. He slapped me with his left hand. I hadn’t seen that coming, and the movement made my ear hurt worse. “You want to play games? We can play games.”

  His free hand went to my breast and squeezed it hard. I kicked him as hard as I could. Apparently, not hard enough to stop him, or to hurt him, but I kicked him hard enough to make him mad. He leaned me over his desk face down and pulled my skirt up. My hands slapped at him feebly.

  “You will learn to obey me.” He taught me that he meant it; in the worst way a man could hurt a woman.

  I lay over his desk, crying and shaking. This was no longer a mistake. He had taken me on purpose. He wasn’t worried about the police anymore. Something told me that I wasn’t ever going to go home again. I decided that it didn’t matter if I told him the password. He would kill me anyway.

  “Tell me the password,” he asked again.

  I remained silent.

  “Tell me, Becca.” He petted my back gently.

  I shook in fear, bracing myself with my hands not sure what would happen next. The gentle touch scared me more than a rough one would have.

  He made a noise like I had disgusted him as he moved away from me.

  I started to straighten up, but his hand pushed me back down.

  “I like you in that position. Stay there. I’m going to teach you the rules of the house now. I want you to repeat them after I say them. Do you understand?”

  I nodded as I sobbed.

  He smacked my bottom with something that hurt a thousand times worse than the soft whip from before. I screamed again. Today had been a day full of screams.

  “That’s right. Make all the noise you want.” He smacked again.

  This time, I bit back the scream and swallowed hard.

  “So brave but so stupid.” He smacked on and on, and I still had yet to hear a rule.

  I had reached the point of losing all of my fight. Still, he kept right on mercilessly beating me. “So do I have your undivided attention now?” he asked.

  I forced myself to answer, but I sounded like I was drunk. “Yes.”

  “Good. Rule number one, you will address me as master, never anything else.” He continued to beat me as he spoke.

  I didn’t recite his rule. I already figured that he would whip me until I passed out again.

  He let the whip or whatever crack down on my bottom. “I’ll always address you as master.” I spit it out as quickly as I could to avoid more of the same. My resolve had so easily been pushed aside. I had cracked quicker than any of the heroines in my books.

  “Rule number two, in this house you’re the lowest thing. No one is beneath you. You will do whatever the others tell you unless it is in direct disagreement to what I’ve said.” He let me have another one of those intolerable whacks.

  “I have to obey everyone else,” I summed up his words.

  “You may not leave.” Crack.

  “I may not leave.” I eagerly repeated, hoping that he would stop sometime soon.

  He pulled me back to my feet by my hair. I reached for his desk trying to support myself.

  He pushed me over to his sofa.

  I wanted to fall down on it.

  He pulled me away. “No, the furniture isn’t for you. You can lie down under it as soon as you undress.”

  I looked at him confused. He had already had his pleasure with me. Why did he want to see me naked?

  He reached back to his desk and picked up an old man’s cane. “Do you need more?”

  I shook my head. My eyes were fixed on the cane.

  “Then get undressed, now.”

  My hands went to the buttons of my blouse.

  He slapped me again. “When I tell you to do something you say, ‘Yes, Master’. If you ever forget, I’ll beat you again.”

  I nodded and softly whispered, “Yes, Master.”

  “Louder.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “See, you really are a smart girl.” He watched me very closely as I undressed.

  I nervously removed everything under his watchful eye.

  He took my clothes and left with them.

  I heard him give them to someone and tell him or her to b
urn them.

  He came back and smiled at me triumphantly. “Now the jewelry.” He held out his hand.

  I removed my pearls from around my neck. Then I felt my ears for earrings. I didn’t have any on today. I removed my rings. I didn’t wear much jewelry, so it wasn’t hard for me to do.

  I laid the things in his hands, eager to lie down, even if it was only on the floor. I wasn’t feeling picky at the moment.

  His hand closed around my things, and he smiled at me deviously. “You didn’t say ‘Yes, Master’.” He looked so happy as he said that.

  He grabbed my arm and bent me over his desk. I saw the cane being lifted off the desk. Then I heard and felt it cracking down on me. My whole body jerked and jumped. He caned on and on, while I begged him to stop.

  “Please stop, Master. I’ll never forget again.” I was crying so loudly. I wasn’t even sure if he could understand me.

  He pushed me off his desk as he laughed. “Go to your spot under the sofa.”

  I tried to get up, but I was too tired. Would he punish me again?

  “Crawl there. You may never walk, unless I give you permission to do so.” Then, he picked up the phone and went about his business, like this was completely normal.

  I fell asleep under the sofa.

  He woke me by dragging me out from under the sofa by my hair. He thought of me exactly like a caveman would. “Follow me. Remember to crawl, Becca.”

  He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt today. I crawled behind him like a dog would. He opened the door to a restroom and sent me in. “You may stand and walk in the bathroom, but crawl back to my office when you’re finished.”

  I crawled through the door and hurried to the toilet and relieved myself. It had been so long since I had the chance to do that.

  There was a shower in the corner. I didn’t have soap, but I needed to feel clean so badly. I let the hot water run over my body while I cried some more. I opened up my bun and hid the hairpins in my hair. Maybe I could pick a lock with a hairpin.

  I let the water run over me. I was afraid of more punishments, so I turned the shower off earlier than what I wanted to.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. I was full of bruises, and my backside looked like raw meat. I had never been a beauty, but I wasn’t ugly either. I was now ugly. People treated pretty people better. I was no longer average. He would never treat me well.

  I hurried back to him, driven by my fear. I couldn’t believe it, but I really did drop down and crawl back to his office.

  I kept waiting for someone to show up and say the torture here was over.

  I yearned for this to be over. It was my only thought.

  I reached up to the door handle and opened the door. I crawled in, and he pointed to the sofa. He was on the phone. I crawled under the sofa and lay down with my back to him. I listened to what he was saying. I wanted to hear what kind of person he was. I wanted to know if I had any hope.

  “Becca, come here,” he called out after he hung up.

  “Yes, Master.” I slid out from under the sofa and crawled over to him.

  “Give me a blow job, but watch your teeth.” He turned his chair a little to the side, and he continued to work on something.

  I sat back on my heels and looked at him. He had to be kidding. Given the chance I would bite it off. That would solve my problems.

  He slapped me again. “Do it now,” he demanded.

  I shook my head.

  “You’re my slave, and you’ll learn to obey me.”

  “The only thing I feel for you, is hate.” This was the same honesty I plagued all of my heroines with. It always helped them work out the problems that they had with their husbands. Here, it only got me slapped again.

  He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me out of the room.

  He had shoved his penis back in his pants before he went out of the room, but I was supposed to go out completely naked. People were out in the hallway too.

  He was dragging me down the steps again. I figured he was going to punish me.

  Tears were already forming, but that was okay. I would rather that he forced me to do everything under coercion. I wanted him to know that I didn’t like him.

  He and I struggled while he tried to tie up my hands. I was putting up a good fight.

  He hit me with his fist then. He got me on my jaw. It was a knock out. My arms went flying in the air, and my knees buckled. I fell to the floor.

  He was pleased with himself. He tied my hands over my head. I was too weak to stop him. He got the bar from yesterday out again and clamped it onto my feet. He tied the bar to the rope holding my hands together.

  “Your slave training is just beginning.”

  Chapter 3 – There Are No Saints Here

  A week later I stood in the bathroom again, reflecting the worst week of my life. The original bruises had mostly healed, but new ones had replaced them. I remembered the beating I had gotten for the hairpins. He had caned me again, but I got caned every day for something or another. I remember the gang bangs that had been held in my honor, as he put it. They were all filmed. They simply left the pillowcase over my head, so no one would recognize me. The darkness made it easier to pretend I was somewhere else.

  I dreamt about soap. I had become obsessed with it. I longed to clean myself up proper. I wanted to smell right again.

  I went to the door and dropped to the floor. I was allowed to leave his side now. I also had duties that needed to be attended to.

  He had moved me up a floor after the police had been here. I heard them ask about me. He pretended that I had never shown up. He sounded ticked at first, and then he sounded concerned.

  Master was such a fake. He removed my gag and asked me lots of questions after they left. Again: who else knew that I was going here, how I got here, and who would miss me the most.

  I lied on all points. I was hoping that it could somehow help me out of here.

  I now had a bed in the kitchen, which consisted of a dirty children’s mattress on the floor in the corner. Anyone, who wanted to, was allowed to join me on my mattress, be it male or female. It had been drilled into the others that I was the lowest life form here.

  Master had taken to putting his feet up on me while he ate. I was his toy. He would break me beyond repair soon.

  I went back into the kitchen and started cooking what was on the list for lunch. I wasn’t allowed to eat with the others. If anyone couldn’t finish their food, they dumped their rests on the floor, where I was required to lick it up. I hated it and everything about this place.

  Two girls, who worked here, came in and talked in the kitchen while I cooked for everyone. I was peeling potatoes as fast as I could. I listened to them talking. They were the only entertainment I had. They provided the variety that I longed for.

  I couldn’t believe it, but they were talking about current events. I guessed I had assumed that the bleach in their hair had affected their brains, but they were talking rather intelligently.

  I turned to them and caught their eyes. “Please, help me get out of here, please.”

  One shook her head disgusted with me, and continued to talk to her friend.

  The other one smiled at me. “Listen Stacy, her master said we all have to make sure she stays here. I think we should punish her.”

  “I see it as our duty too.” Stacy agreed with her.

  The girls jumped up eager to hurt me even more.

  I backed away from them. My breathing got heavier as they moved in closer to me. I backed up against the stove. “Please, no.”

  The one who had the idea was Melanie. She took a ladle off its hook and dipped it into the boiling water where the peeled and cut potatoes where boiling. She threw the hot water at me.

  I screamed out loudly, a very normal occurrence in this house.

  She dipped the ladle again and threw it at me again. I was in my bed covering up my face with my arms. I waited for the next dose of hot water, but it didn’t come. I figured she was waitin
g for me to move, so she could get my face. I felt my skin burning. I hoped it wouldn’t blister.

  “Let go of my arm. She wanted us to help her, so she could get away. We were just punishing her.” I heard Melanie protest.

  “No, it was all Melanie. I didn’t have anything to do with this.” Stacy was distancing herself from Melanie.

  “Becca, is that true? Is Stacy innocent?” Master was here. I shuddered in fear. Melanie had told him that I wanted to run away. That would be the greatest crime, at least, in his eyes.

  I nodded without moving the rest of my body. I didn’t trust him.

  “Rick, no!” Melanie cried out. I heard him belting her. She screamed louder than I ever did.

  Their punishments were usually play. They were prepared, and they got special creams to help them heal faster. They didn’t get heavy strokes like I did. The other girls honestly liked what happened to them. They had code words and gestures for when something got to be too much.

  “You’re allowed to punish her, but you may not mar her.” He beat her like she was – me. She was beside herself with pain. I stayed knelt on my mattress with my head covered up.

  Master sat down next to me after he finished belting Melanie. He took my chin in his fingers and turned me, so I was looking at him.

  I was having a terrible time breathing because of the pain of the burn that seemed to be getting worse and not better.

  “Show Master where it hurts.” He had never talked nicely to me before, so I assumed it was a trick.

  Would he slap me over the burn? The thought of that brought even more tears to my eyes.

  He turned me and saw my stomach, which had received the worst of the first throw. “I need a first aid kit, now,” he barked. Master was always obeyed right away.

  He soon had one in his hands. He was leaning on my mattress with his legs stretched out on the kitchen floor. He looked very relaxed. “Stacy, finish cooking.”

  “But that isn’t my job,” she protested.

  “Do you want what Melanie got?” He stared up at her until she turned away and started to cook, and then he looked through the kit some more. He pulled out a cream and read what was written on the tube.