by Alice Everly
Lydia learned about his punishments very early on when she first came to Papa’s house, he made her cry so hard back then, so she continues to allow him his fantasy that she doesn’t have another life and that she’s this little girl he made her into.
When she acts like the little girl he wants her to be, he doesn’t punish her nearly as hard. When she fights it and reminds him that she’s a full grown adult he becomes so angry and beats her until she agrees to be Little again. So she pretends and it isn’t quite so unbearable. Make no mistake though, the punishments still occur. Papa is very strict indeed, but when she plays along with his game the punishments aren’t nearly as harsh.
“You were a very naughty girl today, Lydia,” His grip on her hand tightens as he leads her down the hall and through that awful door.
She knew she’d done nothing wrong, she rarely did. How could she in that bare room that held little more than a tiny bed and a rocking chair? But he had a script in his head that would tell her that she’d been naughty and she had no choice but to go along with it, fighting it was futile.
“I warned you about going outside without me,” He chastises, pulling her through the door, “I told you not to go near the forest, his voice growing tight and cold, “I told you to stay indoors.”
This was a familiar complaint, one of his favorites she would say. This was actually the third time this week he’d used this excuse to punish her.
She knew he wanted her to play along so she obliged even though she knew she hadn’t been outdoors in months, possibly even longer. She wouldn’t be surprised if it had been years since she’d breathed even an ounce of fresh clean air. It had become difficult to keep track of time when it seemed as if each day ran into the next and one day to another was just as much of a nightmare as the one before.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” She says, making sure to keep her voice childish and contrite, “please don’t spank me, Papa,” the pleading was real, “I’ll never go outside again without you, I promise.” She said, tears already misting her eyes.
“I wish I could forget that all this happened, Lydia,” he shakes his head, sincerity obvious in his gentle tone, “but I just can’t do that. I just can’t forget that you were in those evil woods where you’ve been hurt before, Papa knows that if he doesn’t punish you properly for this, well then you’ll just do it again and again. We can’t have that can we?”
“I didn’t’ mean to,” she cried, wishing that she’d at least be punished for real crimes, not fake events that she wasn’t even responsible for, “I won’t do it again, I promise,” she pleads, her big blues wide with hope that maybe he would change his mind, maybe just this one time. It was a silly dream, he never changed his mind, “please Papa,” she whispered, her breath hitching in her throat as he flipped on the light.
The dim room washing with bright light sent a chill racing down her spine. How many times had she been to this room? How many times had she been punished for imaginary things?
Easily he pushed her over a long bench that he loving called, the spanking bench. Her legs were effortlessly secured to two of the wooden legs with thick leather straps and cuffed together. Already knowing the ties were tight and already aware she would not be leaving the room without plenty of injuries, bruises marking her backside, cuts lining her wrists and ankles, she succumbed to the fear as tears began to fall from her eyes. She knew he had no other intention other than making this very painful for her.
She lay bare before him, bruises still shadowing across her translucent skin. She was certain the bruises were particularly bad considering the deep pain she felt each time she sat in her chair, and this was before he’d begun the punishment.
It was really not alarming, she thought, since it would be virtually impossible for her to heal from the extremely harsh punishment just the day before. Unfortunately, the bruises, rather than drawing empathy from him, seemed to enrage him further at the sight of the yellowed bruising and only served to bring her additional punishment.
“You’re such an insolent Little girl, Lydia,” he said with scorn, “You can’t even give me smooth white skin to punish?” He wasn’t expecting an answer, his rage fueling him and blinding him to all other things, “this only means you’re not learning your lessons because I must not be properly punishing you.” He declared, “well I will rectify that,” he said adamantly as he rolled up his sleeves. A skitter of fear raced along her skin.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” she says with little emotion, knowing his mind is no longer in the present, no longer in this room.
Lydia never knows where his punishments will go from here. He varies it often and the only reoccurring theme is pain and humiliation. That she can never escape from.
That day he decided to use his belt to teach whatever lesson he was intent on burning into her backside. Her insides cramp as she hears the familiar sound of his belt buckle clanging as he unbuckles it and then pulls it forcefully through the loops. She can’t see him, he’s behind her, but she can hear his heavy breathing as he prepares to dole out what he deems is justified.
She knows there’s little point in begging, but still her instincts take over after only a few seconds and she is begging for reprieve, begging for him to stop beating her, but he ignores her as always. Maybe next time, she wonders as the pain overtakes her.
Chapter Four
She’s a prisoner in his house, a massive gray stone monstrosity that was built decades ago. To Lydia it resembles a fortress more than a home, but she had little time to ponder the thought before she was imprisoned within.
The house sits high in the hills far away from decent society, almost as if he planted it there for the sole purpose of hiding himself away from prying eyes and nosy neighbors, hidden from anybody so he could keep the townspeople from hearing the screams that would be coming from within its walls.
Lydia noticed the house many years before when her family had first moved to town. It sat so regally atop the hill and she’d always envisioned a handsome King and his Queen sitting within, protecting the town below. It was a sweet fairytale but looking back she wished she’d stayed far away from the house, but her curiosity was always far stronger than her good sense.
She’d been out on a blind date that had turned from awful to worse and she decided to ditch the date and take a drive up to the castle on the hill. As she drove the long winding road up the side of the hill, she wondered about the mysterious stone house that nobody seemed to know much about. How could such an ornate architectural relic exist in such a small town with little to no knowledge of how it came to be and who owned it now? She drove the road to the top of that hill with every intention of satisfying all of her long held questions.
Lydia often blamed herself these days for the situation she found herself in. After all, it was she who’d ignored the ‘no trespassing’ signs that littered the winding road up to the stone house. She’d admittedly been too entranced by the magical mysticism surrounding the stone house that sat regally atop this hill with a forest of tress as its backdrop.
It was straight out of a fairytale in her mind, and she envisioned finding her very own handsome prince just awaiting his princess in the magnificent home that sat so mysteriously atop the hill overlooking the entire town as if it were snubbing it’s nose to those below.
In hindsight, she knew she should have never gone to the home, and certainly never knocked on the front door. She hadn’t told anyone how much she dreamed of that house. She’d told nobody that she was going to visit that stone mansion. She’d told nobody that she was to travel that lonely dirt road that day so she knew when they searched for her, nobody would look towards that stone house that sat so obvious in the distance.
And now, years later, far too often, she would sit staring down upon the town sitting so oblivious to her peril and she’d wish beyond wish that she could turn back time and listen to her gut that afternoon. She would sit wishing she’d turned the car around and gone back home where she would be safe from
the monster she now lived with, safe from the nightmares the house kept so easily hidden behind the thick stone walls and veiled leaded glass windows. Nightmares that were unheard of to the town that slept so innocently below.
When Lydia reached the top of the hill on that fateful day, the house turned out to be far more beautiful than she’d ever imagined. She quickly parked her car and got out. She wanted to see more, needed to see more. The gray stone was not just gray, she could see far more up close, no that gray stone was swirled with greens and blue’s and the stone sparkled in the dying afternoon light like rare jewels.
She unashamedly climbed the wide tapered stone stairs that led to the front door, awed and amazed at the size of the house. It sat with three floors and grand turrets graced each side as if it were divided into wings. The entire home reminded her of magical childhood fairytale castles. That day, before she entered the home, had seemed so dreamlike, hazy memories that all seemed surreal now, even in her memory.
Adorning the large oak doors was a very large brass lion’s head knocker. She lifted it, finding it far heavier than she anticipated. She let out a giggle as she let it fall and then lifted it once more to fall a second time. She’d hoped the owner would be home and would offer her a tour. She waited anxiously for someone to answer. She would have paid money to see the inside of that castle, but she’d been so very innocent that day. If only she could go back to that very day and urge herself to turn around, to run as fast as she could, if only she could go back and be just half as naïve as she was that day.
When he’d finally opened the door, she was both surprised and enchanted by the man who stood before her. He was far younger than she’d anticipated, likely in his thirties or forties. He was an attractive man, tall and handsome, charming her with a smile that eased her nerves in a moment. He’d invited her in with easy hospitality and she had been so eager to see the inside. So eager that she’d ignored the nervous flutters in her stomach.
He guided her through the high points of the home and she was enthralled by every single nook and cranny. It wasn’t until they reached the third floor that her uneasiness began to overwhelm her curiosity. The lighting on the third floor was much dimmer than the rest of the home, the air stale and dusty. She noticed his eyes, before they had been vibrant and clear green, but on that third floor they had shifted to a darker green and an almost glazed look as he stared at her with a penetrating gaze that made her shift in place. His voice pitched higher then as if he were speaking to a young child rather than an adult woman.
“I gotta show you the best part of the house. You wanna see it?” he asked, taking her hand in his and leading her down the dark cramped hallway.
Lydia wasn’t sure why he took her hand at that moment. Maybe he was sensing her unease, maybe he feared she would run out of the house never to return. She wasn’t sure the reasons, but she allowed him to lead her down the hall like a fool. She ignored the shrill warning bells that were sounding off in her head and growing more and more deafening. She cursed herself now for being such a fool then. She should have run from the house, should have screamed and fought her way out while she had a change. Yet, knowing now the monster that he was, she wondered if he wouldn’t have allowed her to run even then. He was a strong man and he already had a hold on her, likely he would have punished her right then had she tried. At the time, pride had shown bright in his eyes as he opened a wide door into the room she now lived in. He carefully watched her face as she took the room in, an innocent completely unaware that she wouldn’t be leaving that room for a long time. She’d entered the room tentatively, already aware that something just wasn’t right.
The room was a round shaped room with windows lining the walls and she had thought that it was likely the top of the turret. A beautiful room in any other circumstance, but the cold stone walls and the musty air had her growing nervous.
The view was magnificent, of course, but her alarm bells were overwhelming her and she turned to thank him, but he’d already shifted to block the doorway with a sick smile.
It took her too long to notice the room was built for a child, she didn’t notice a lot of things about that first day. Specifically how he’d chuckled when he’d crowed how the stone walls were good for excellent soundproofing of the house.
Now she understood, oh god how she understood what he had been saying then. All her jumbled thoughts were rioting in her brain and yet all she could think as panic rose in her throat was how innocent the room had seemed. The empty rocking chair, the drafty room, the discarded ragdoll lying on the floor. Nothing had really seemed all that amiss, but god how she wished she hadn’t ignored that growing sense of dread that tightened within her throat.
“Do you like your room baby?” he asked, his hazy eyes wild and reckless making her stomach churn.
“I need to…um…I have to go, my family is waiting for me.” She said, panic hot and biting as her throat tightened, tears brimming her eyes as her new reality seemed to become blinding clear. She tried to push past him but his solid form kept her easily in the room with one flick of his wrist.
He gripped the back of her neck, powerfully, as he led her across the room. She had little choice but to go where he directed her, like a puppet on strings, she knew there was no escaping that firm grip and she feared he would snap her neck in two if she tried.
“Please let me go home,” she whimpered, tears now falling to the cold stone floor.
His fingers tightened briefly, making her aware that with one twist of his hand he could break her neck if he wanted. She winced, crying harder.
“You’re home now baby, everything’s going to be okay.” He said, leading her to the window, his towering frame hovering over her as she looked out, seeing the entire town through the leaded glass, “Katy never did appreciate the beauty of this view, but you will.” He said quietly, his hand still firm around the back of her neck.
“It’s very beautiful,” she said with shaking breath. It wasn’t a lie, the view was phenomenal and any other day, any other situation, she would have loved it. It was definitely the view she would have expected to see from the stone fortress.
“You’re a good girl,” he said easily, “you’ll be much happier here than the others were.” He shrugged, “but they’re gone now,” he said soothingly, his fingers relaxing for a moment to brush along the side of her neck, “you don’t need to worry about them because you’re going to be my only girl now.”
“I want to go home to my family,” she cried, “I miss them, they’ll be looking for me.”
“They won’t find you,” he said with such arrogance and confidence that her shoulders shook with sobs, “you have your Papa right here, you’re mine now.” His lips brushed her cheek and she pulled away, her instincts kicking in as she tried in a futile fight to overcome him and escape.
He easily overcame her attempt. He lifted her off her feet, his arms easily encompassing her whole body as he pinned her own arms sharply to her sides, holding her a few feet off the floor. His hot breath sticky against her ear, “What a naughty girl you really are,” he said with a dark leer that had her blood running cold, “You need to be a good girl baby, you don’t want to end up like the others.”
It wouldn’t be the first or the last time that he punished her. Lydia was effectively trapped within the madman’s chains that would keep her locked away for years.
When he slipped out the door and bolted it she had run toward it and beat on the thick wooden door until her knuckles bled. She screamed and begged for him to release her until her voice went hoarse. She collapsed on the floor sobbing until she’d tired herself out staring out of hollow eyes, praying for some sort of divine intervention.
She stared at the dark rocking chair that sat facing the windows on the far side of the room. The empty loneliness penetrating the thick air, tragically, as if a child had recently sat there, rocking quietly, as they watched the world below.
Lydia lay weak and crumpled on the stone floor when the d
oor opened again. If she had any strength left she would have run toward him and barreled past him, but her energy had long worn out as he entered the room pulling a pale and crying woman behind him.
She had been dragged from the punishment room, Lydia now knew that was the only place she could have been. She was bruised and bloodied, her eyes wide and sad as she stared down at Lydia.
“Look at her Katy,” he said, yanking her forward to get a better look, “Lydia here has been sent to me so I can replace you with her since you’re such a very bad Little girl,” he slapped the woman upside her head and she fell to the floor in sobs.
“Can I go home now, Papa” Katy cried, but his answering laughter was confirmation that Katy wouldn’t be going home or seeing her family any time soon.
Lydia never knew what became of the woman, but she often feared that she’d face the same fate when Papa tired of her.
Lydia knew her family searched for her in the beginning. They had to. Her mother and father would never believe that she just disappeared, Lydia might have been a reckless child, but she always came back home. Always.
Now she’d dream of that home and wonder if she’d ever see it again. She still hurt when she thought of the many times she’d taken her family for granted over the years. The times she’d disobeyed her parents and the times she’d fought with her sister and her brother. Oh how she wished she could see them again. She promised she’d never fight with them again if she could just see them once more. She missed them now, so much so that she often held conversations in her own mind with them .Laughing and teasing as if they were right there in front of her.
As time wore on her heart began to shatter into tiny glass shards and it became all too easy to just forget, hide her memories as each day continued to pass and the prospect of returning home became bleaker. Forgetting was easier, it hurt less that way.
