by Celia Crown
I keep my face down on my arm to avoid looking into the darkness where anything can pop up and scare me, that fear overrides any distrust I have for this man as he is my only protection in this abandoned hospital.
I will give him anything if he doesn’t leave me in this place alone, I won’t survive one minute after hearing a distant echo of something moving in the pitch blackness. Kidnapping doesn’t sound as bad as a haunted hospital; at least Daddy is a real man with a mean streak.
We go into a ward that has camping lights set up on the floor and on the rusty racks there is a big cylindrical shape area with a showerhead above.
“Don’t worry, it’s just us here,” he whispers, releasing his support under my butt and I slide down on the floor.
It’s the first time I have to feel anything solid under my feet and it’s a weird feeling to get used to it again. I don’t let go of him as I survey the area, jerking my head side to side as my eyes took in what they can from the illuminated room.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, there’s something in his tone that I can’t pick out but it frightens me on an equal level of being alone in this room.
“No! Please stay, Daddy.” I panic, squeezing my puny arms around his thick waist.
“I’ll stay.” he runs a hand in my hair and my traitorous body relaxes in his touch.
“Your clothes are over there.” Daddy gestures his hand over to the rack right by the light where a stack of clothes is messily laying on top.
I nod and slowly take back my arms with one more look around the room, the unlit areas is where my imagination runs wild from all the creepy stories from Kevin’s film stories. Being his roommate has more drawbacks than benefits, and his weird obsession with abandoned buildings is extraordinarily deep.
I vividly remember him talking about the patients that haunt the hospitals and they are malicious ghosts who don’t believe they are gone and so they can't accept their death. Seeking vengeance on those who trespass into their realm through the doors and keeping them in the buildings to torment them with anguish until they die from fear.
Shuddering in fear, I hesitantly let go of his shirt and turn towards the shower area. This place is old and I’m not sure when emergency showers are required by the government, but it looks more modern than I expected this building to be.
I wanted to see if the knob works and it does, my face gets a blast of cold water and I shriek in shock. Jumping back and out of the freezing water as I tremble with water soaking to my bones, I sneeze twice and turn to see if Daddy is still there.
He is and his face shows nothing but stoicism. His facial expressions can range from warm to cold in an instant, and now I get to experience the cold water and his impassive face. I want to read him and assess his next reaction, but I can't grasp his train of thoughts as a mad genius behind whatever scheme he and his team had planned.
He is very smart when he talks about the plan with his people, and maybe it's that intelligence that is messing with my head. I could be in his trap right now; he’s giving me a safe baseline before taking that away because the demon in his eyes reflects his true self.
I’ve seen that side of him on multiple occasions and it gets worse each time.
“What are you waiting for?” he crosses his thick arms over his wide chest.
I furrow my eyebrows and turn back to the running shower, I tentatively raise my hand to feel the temperature and it’s not as cold as before. The pipes are rusty so it should turn a gross copper color, but it’s clear under the camping lights.
“You have five minutes,” Daddy’s voice snaps behind me, prompting me to glance over my shoulder.
He’s watching me and he has no intention of looking away, “Now!”
My shoulder jams into my jaw and I hurriedly pull the shirt over my head and let it make a wet plop on the dirty floor, then I fold my arm over my breasts and try to wiggle out of my shirts. It’s hard when they’re skintight after the water, but I manage with some finesse.
My back is open for the attack as I quickly step into the cold water and a shriek breaks past my chattering teeth, it’s too cold and too harsh on my skin. This showerhead is spitting water faster than a messenger can ride a bike.
There isn’t soap or shampoo for me to use so I just rub the grime and anything from my body, my cheeks burn despite the iciness rapping on my skin. Daddy’s eyes are piercing and trying to brand his name on my butt, bending to scrub my feet and legs is not possible without flashing him more than what he’s already seeing.
This is my limit and I don’t want to test his patience when he just forgave me from the earlier mistake.
“Get out now, you’ll catch a cold.” his voice is closer than I expected, and it sounds like it’s right behind me.
I get yanked back into his warm chest and the difference in warmth wrecks my body with shivers. Covering my breasts with my arms as he puts a towel in front of me, my hands take it swiftly and hide my nakedness from his gaze as my nipples harden further from his gaze.
The towel is fluffy, contradicting the calloused and rough roaming hands. He drops a shirt over my head and my arms try to find the sleeve holes without dropping the towel, then my panties are in my hands.
Then I put them on at an incredible speed and I don’t believe it myself, but my body gets a layer of protection and warmth that it desperately needs.
However, his hands don’t cease their exploratory journey around my arms and inside my shirt. Groping my breast, his hot palm cups me and pinches my nipple. I squeak and the towel goes tumbling down on the ground as I instinctively go to stop his ministration.
“You’re too cold,” he rasps in my ear.
I mewl, my body heating up unwillingly as his thick fingers push into the waistband of my panties. To my horror, his lone finger swipes over my clit and a million stars burst behind my eyes. I’m wet, and I know it is because I could feel the friction and traction but it was a smooth glide that has me burning with humiliation.
Since when did my body react to him?
“Daddy will warm you up, little princess.” the pad of his finger rubs small tight circles, playing my clit with my slick as he dips down to part my folds and taps my unused hole.
I shake my head and wiggle, this isn’t what I want. I don’t want this, he’s my kidnapper and I’m being held here against my will. I shouldn’t want this, but all I can think is that my body belongs to him as he strings me like an instrument.
He goes back to thrumming my clit, stroking in fast and firm rubs that brings too much fraction to my sodden button and it’s too hot. Whether its heat from his fingers or my body is too aroused by the idea that I’m being forcibly touched by this brute of a man, my reasoning goes out the door when he pinches my clit in one hard nudge.
I scream in pain, shaking and arching my butt to move away from his painful act. Of which I ended up rubbing it against his big cock on my back as I sob for him to stop because I’m a virgin and I never even touched myself. He is the first touch I felt down there unless I’m cleaning, but that isn’t sexual.
He’s my first in almost everything.
Not my first kiss, my drunk roommate took that after slipping from a beer bottle on busting my upper lip with his teeth.
My eyes snapped open, that’s right, I have Kevin. He’s probably looking for me with the police and he cares about me. I need to get out of here and go home; I don’t belong in this man’s arms. No matter how buff and warm he is, he is a monster who took me from the comfort of my own home for his sick games.
“No, no!” I pull his hand out of my panties, “Don’t touch me! I want to go home!”
Just as I step out of his arms, his hand comes down and collides with my butt. I yelp in pain, he delivers one more painful smack before I can get my hands around them to shield it away from his palm. I twirl around to face him with teary eyes, my butt pulses in pain and blood pounds in my ears as well as the two cheeks that got spanked.
It hurts, he was
n’t holding back when he did it. I knew he put more power in his strikes than how he handled me when I first woke up.
“Don’t fucking piss me off, Romy.”
Dread pummels my heart as I hear my name being spat out of his mouth, he clenches his fists and I stand with wet hair clinging onto my neck. I refuse to move one muscle, he looks as if he is about to explode with the vein in his neck being more prominent and the fiery gaze he has on.
“Please let me go home, I’m scared,” I beg him.
He strikes fast with the speed of a snake and closes his fingers around my arm, tossing me over his shoulder and my stomach hits his packed muscles with a nauseating sensation washing over me. Dizziness sways with the ground as my eyes rolls at the impact, darkness takes over again as he stalks out of the washroom and my fear triples the faster he walks.
He turns and turns, and I try to figure out how this maze of a hospital can have such complicated routes. Glass crumbles under his boots again, a sense of déjà vu punches me in the gut as the sound of glass became constant in my ears along with his voice.
Now that he is dead silent, I find the glasses awful and disturbingly earsplitting.
He turns one more time and takes five big steps, and my world’s axis tilts again and it takes me a while to realize that it’s the same bed and the same room again.
Fear seizes my throat and I scramble up to try and grasp his hand or a sleeve, but he jerks out my hand and walks out without saying anything to me. No locks either and it’s petrifying of what’s running in my head as I watch his strong and wide back get eaten by the shadows.
The only light is the moon and that is a temperamental rock as it would hide behind clouds and leave the room in complete darkness.
A rolling sound of thunder crackles and it echoes extra loud through the room with the hollowing waves remaining.
I wished that he would have chained me to the floor so that no paranormal activities can take me away or some deranged ghost doctor taking me away for experiments to be like their failed subjects.
However, chaining me means I can't escape and ghosts can get to me when I’m stationary. They can torment me for hours or days, and I would have no power to stop it.
I can't tell which is worst.
Lightning flashes, giving me a split second view of the room before turning black again and I swear I saw something in the corner. There’s no external thing to protect me and I would not be feeling this cripple fear if I had a blanket and to hide under there until I count all the sheep in my head.
Work break means sleeping time to me on nights where there is rolling thunder.
Speak of the devil.
The sky roars again, piecing my ear as it rings. My tears run down to my cheeks and I press my face to the musty mattress. I choke a sob and cry to myself, I didn’t ask to be kidnapped. I didn’t ask to be put in this room under the raining sky by a stranger whose motives are too sinister for me to fully understand, and I didn’t ask to be this scared.
My shoulders shake and jump when another thunderous rumble falls on the deafening room. Curling into my kneels, I will myself to be strong and just suffer through the night and into the morning when I can actually see.
If I can see it then I’ll be more inclined to being not so afraid of ghosts and evil spirits. I don’t want to believe in them because I don’t want to think they’re real, and I don’t want to not believe in them because they might be jerks and possibly try to scare me to prove to me that they do exist.
It’s the same noise that I heard going to the shower room, it’s a distant sound too ambiguous to know what it is. I dig my fingers inside my palms and hiccup, coughing from the dusty mattress as I gather my courage to put my feet down and risk the demon that hides under the bed space from grabbing my feet.
Another crackle of thunder smacks down the room and I think it shook the whole building to its core, my voice cracks with a sobbing cry.
I throw my feet down and yelp in pain as I step on a piece of a small glass, but fear is too potent in my head that I’m not feeling anything anymore. All I want is to have Daddy back so that he can fight off the ghosts that linger in my subconsciousness.
“D-Daddy? Where are you? I’m scared! I’ll be a good girl, I’m sorry, Romy will be Daddy’s little princess.”
I weep into the back of my hands, heaving and bawling my eyes out as my ears don’t pick up on a sound from footsteps, it tells me that he either didn’t hear or he’s not here anymore.
I wail, coughing and whimpering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—sorry. Please don’t leave, Daddy. I’m sorry.”
I mewl in relief as Daddy’s strong hands pick me up like a limp doll, docile on his chest as he pats my shuddering back.
“Look at you,” he croons, “You’re a mess.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, repeating it just in case he didn’t hear.
Daddy presses his lips to my wet hair, “Don’t you ever hurt yourself again, that’s Daddy’s job.”
Chapter Five
Jax
The worn couch groans under my weight as I flop down with Romy’s motionless body falling on top of my body. Her soft sniffs get muffled in my shirt as I hold her shaking frame to mine, soothing away the demons plaguing her mind.
It’s my fault that she is scared out of her mind.
Guilt isn’t present, but glee is whirling loudly in my body as I practically vibrate at the excitement. Her body seeks my warmth as she snuggles closer to my body, shuddering breaths pushing on my neck as she hides her eyes from the dark surrounding where there is only one camping light on the ground by my feet.
A foolish little girl thinks that what she can’t see won’t hurt, but the biggest threat to her life and mental state is me. Yet, she trusts that I will be the one to fight off the ghosts and demons when they manifest from her frenzied head.
“Let’s take a look at your feet,” I said, running my hand along her spine as she shivers.
Her little toes wiggle and a sharp inhale of breath comes next to my ear as the blood drips from the bottom of her feet. Both have cuts on them, a small pool of blood forms on the dirty floor as the blood has no intention of stopping.
“It hurts,” she said softly, peaking from the junction of my neck as I pop open the first-aid kit by my hip.
A bottle of disinfectant swoosh in the container, it’s half empty from the way my explosive expert keep getting his fingers cut from wiring his bombs.
“Little princess, sit up,” I commanded her and she listens as she already knows the consequences of not obeying what I tell her to do.
She sniffed; wiping her eyes with her hands and adjusting her ass on my lap. I bring her thighs up and make her feet hover in midair while I uncap the disinfectant. Romy sits stiffly, back arched straight and zeroing her sight on the container.
She makes little noises of protest as I close the distance to her bleeding feet, grasping her thigh with the land around her waist to keep her in place. There is nowhere for her to run, and I run a small stream of the liquid onto her wounds.
She jerks, yelps, and cries. Clenching her thigh under my fingers, she reels back her dramatic sounds to pathetic whimpers. I don’t doubt that it hurts as she is not used to pain like I am. I can withstand this type of cut with no problem, but Romy is a sensitive little girl and a rubber band would hurt her if I fling it hard enough.
My eyebrows knot at her squirming, rubbing her plush ass on my cock as her pain becomes mine to deal with when my shaft gives a hard twitch. I need to work this sexual frustration out of my system and the object of my affection is right in front of me, tears clinging to her face and pretty whimpers begging for me.
I shouldn’t fall into her web of innocent temptation, my iron control steers me away from being the monster that I am, but it would be too easy to throw her on the couch and take my pleasure.
Taking out a wad of cotton balls, I press them to her bottom foot to soak up the excess blood and disinfectants. She hollers in pain
at my rough treatment, it’s the speed that I’m more interested in. I wouldn’t want her feet to be infected with bacteria on the broken glass and filthy floors.
“Gently, please.” she trembles.
I relieve some pressure and leave the cotton there for a couple of seconds to ensure that there won't be blood coming out too rapidly. The cotton is stained with light pink and concentrated areas of red where there are deeper cuts.
She’s compliant when I wrap her foot with a roll of bandages; I carefully wrap the roll around several times and tightly tie a knot so it doesn’t fall loose.
Romy breathes in strongly, getting ready for her other foot as I tip the disinfectant over her foot. I repeat the process with quicker hands and less tormenting as I had a little fun at first. Seeing her struggle to cry again is so adorable, it’s a shame that she bit back her tears as I would have loved to see them.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I smile.
She begrudgingly nods.
My hands go under her arm and lift her off my lap to turn her to straddle me; she finds pleasure on my shoulders as she almost topples over me. Romy searches my eyes for answers to my sudden change and I hold her ribs and thrum my fingers on the bones.
“That took a lot of effort, little princess.” I watch her face twist in confusion before I rock my hips up and push her ass down to make her ground on my cock.
She squeals, a red blush forming on her cheeks.
“Daddy wants a reward,” I said, one hand going between us to unzip my pants.
Romy stammers and steam comes out of her ears, but she keeps her mouth shut when I set my eyes in a glare.
I’m hard and aching, desperate to get relief as I jerk my cock in my palm. Letting the roughness of my skin graze the sensitive flesh is pleasant, but I’m inclining to feel Romy’s unblemished hands wrapped around my shaft.
“Touch Daddy,” I said, clamping down on her retreating hand and squeezing it until her fingers are open from their fist.
The first touch allows a groan to escape my throat as her hand wraps around my throbbing cock, stiffly holding me as she has no idea what to do next. I tighten my fist and push her fingers to let her feel the pulsing vein beating strongly.
