Papa's Prisoner

by Alice Everly

  “I love you Daddy,” she said.

  He held her away from him, his gaze finding hers and holding it, “I love you too sweetie, oh I love you too” they held onto each other for a long moment, “no matter how far away you are, you have to believe that. I love you Lydia, and I will always remember you.”

  “I won’t leave Daddy,” her voice was strong, steady, “I don’t care what you say, I’m not leaving, not now, not ever.”

  “This isn’t a choice Lydia. You have one choice and one choice only, you go into witness protection. You’ll get your little bottom onto the helicopter when you’re told to or you won’t be able to sit down for the entire ride to your new home.”

  “Daddy,” she frowned at him, “I’m really really mad at you.”

  “Better for you to be mad at me than for you to be caught by Mike Christopher again,” he sighed, setting her feet on the carpet, “Now get your little bottom up to that helicopter.” He smacked her backside making her jump before pulling her to him once more, just one more time, he thought, he needed to hold her just one more time.

  “Can’t we make a compromise?” she whined as he held tightly to her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Melody, Melody,” Mrs. Johnson grabbed her from behind and pulled her back onto the sidewalk just as a truck came barreling down Main Street, “I don’t understand why you never pay attention,” the old lady chastised. She took in deep breathes as she patted her chest, trying to slow her heart down, “you have to start paying attention Melody, before you get yourself seriously hurt,” the woman lectured.

  “I will Mrs. Johnson,” Lydia felt guilty that she’d almost been hit by that truck, but she just wasn’t used to her new name yet, “I guess I was daydreaming.”

  “You have to pay attention Melody,” she warned again sternly, then her face broke out in a large smile as she waved across the street, “Hi, Mr. Farlane,” Mrs. Johnson said, batting her eyes at the handsome man.

  “Good afternoon, Ruth,” he said as he stepped onto the sidewalk after carefully crossing the street.

  Of course he was so careful, Lydia thought cynically, he was never reckless like she was.

  “I hope Melody was no trouble for you today,” he said.

  “Well,” Mrs. Johnson began and Lydia’s head dropped, “we were just having a serious discussion about paying attention to our surroundings because she wasn’t looking before crossing the street, weren’t we Melody?” she asked pointedly.

  “Yes Ma’am,” she answered, trying to avoid the man’s eyes.

  “Oh we will definitely be finishing this discussion at home young lady,” he took Lydia’s hand in his.

  “Don’t forget Mr. Farlane,” Mrs. Johnson shouted as they crossed the street, “I’m available whenever you need me.”

  “Thank you,” he said, waving at her, “I’m quite certain I’ll need your help tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be waiting tomorrow morning,” she called out to him as he took Lydia into the two story farmhouse across the street.

  As soon as the door closed, Lydia turned to him with her arms across her chest, “I wasn’t being bad,” she said, “Mrs. Johnson kept calling out Melody and I forgot that Melody is my name now,” she narrowed her eyes, “you can’t spank me for that Daddy.”

  Although Lydia had hated the punishments of Papa, she had come to rely on Daddy’s loving correction. Even though she didn’t particularly like spankings, she couldn’t deny the rush of desire she felt each time he took her over his knee.

  “Oh, so now you tell me when I can and can’t spank you?” he asked, hanging his coat in the closet before taking hers and doing the same. He then led her into the living room, “and you know you can’t go by Lydia anymore honey, you have to use your new name.”

  She rolled her eyes, “I hate the name Melody and I hate…”

  “Don’t you dare say it Melody,” he said, purposely using her new name, “I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, but I’m sure going to make certain that I take care of this Little attitude.”

  She looked up at him with wide eyes, “But Daddy,” she said.

  “Get up those stairs and bring back your hairbrush,” he smacked her bottom twice, “now.”

  Brian watched her rush up the stairs as he pulled on the tie around his neck, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up, getting ready to take care of Lydia’s attitude and forgetfulness.

  It had been the biggest decision of his life moving to Iowa with Lydia. Captain Barnes had told him he was a fool, but Brian hadn’t regretted the decision even once. He had arranged for him and Lydia to be in witness protection together. It wasn’t a difficult task, considering Captain Barnes agreed to help even though he made it clear that he wasn’t happy about Brian’s plans. But for Brian, it was a compromise with Lydia that he was more than happy to make.

  The town of Aster, Iowa had welcomed the couple with open arms. Brian was given credentials of a CPA and he spent most of his day remembering why he hated mathematics in school and the other half of the day trying to hunt down the whereabouts of Mike Christopher. He was alerted to every missing person that was a young woman. He was combing through all the online groups geared toward DDLG and Little’s.

  Brian wouldn’t rest until he had Mike Christopher behind bars and he had saved the other women Mike had kidnapped. If there were any more women to save.

  The land surrounding Mike Christopher’s stone mansion had also hidden a very dark secret. Shallow graves of young women, dozens possibly hundreds. Blunt force trauma seemed to be the reoccurring theme each time an autopsy was completed. They were still trying to wade through all the evidence and ID the women, but Brian was certain Alexa would be in the list. The reality that he had seen her, could have saved her, but didn’t, was something that haunted him. He would bring down Mike Christopher’s operation, for Lydia and for Alexa.

  As soon as he and Lydia landed in Aster, Lydia had started to open up to him more and more about her time at Mike’s house and what little she knew of the other women. He was glad she finally felt safe enough to tell him everything, but the horrible beatings she described were hard for him to stomach. Even more terrifying was the fact that what she described was very similar to the trauma they’d found on the bodies found on Mike’s property.

  To think that Lydia could have been in one of those graves made Brian thankful for every single moment he had with her. He thanked God that Lydia hadn’t succumbed to the same fate as those women. Brian had already put out word that he was searching for Mike Christopher online. Once he received a location he would go take the man down. Until then, he was enjoying his new life with Lydia.

  The residents of Aster believed Lydia was Brian’s daughter. Nobody questioned Lydia’s dresses or childish personality because they all believed her to be far younger than she was. Brian also let word spread that she had witnessed her mother’s death and so they all assumed she was just as fragile as Brian had always thought of her.

  Brian had her spend her days with Mrs. Johnson and he’d found that to be more of a punishment than a babysitter. Lydia wasn’t particularly fond of Mrs. Johnson and didn’t appreciate the chores the woman made her do. For Brian though, it was a way to keep Lydia in line during the day while he worked.

  Lydia returned to the living room with the hairbrush in hand, a lot more contrite than she had been moments before.

  “I didn’t mean to cross the street without looking,” she said, “and I forgot my name was Melody.”

  “We can’t forget Melody,” he said, “Nobody can know the truth.”

  “I’m sorry Daddy,” she didn’t hesitate when he reached beneath her dress to draw down her panties and then took her over his knee.

  Their relationship had settled into a comfortable love. She intimately shared his bed each night now, and he couldn’t imagine her anywhere else.

  He lifted her dress and exposed her bare cheeks, rubbing them lovingly.

  “I’m just doing this
for your own safety, sweetheart,” he said before the hairbrush landed exactly where the soft whisper of his hand had just been resting, “you could have been seriously hurt or killed by that truck,” the hairbrush landed a dozen more times as she cried out, her bottom squirming to avoid the wretched brush.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried out, but he was relentless, the brush falling and landing in a rhythmic beat.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, landing the hairbrush rapidly three times before she finally screeched out, “Melody! Melody! My name is Melody!”

  “That’s right, Melody,” he said, finally setting the hairbrush aside and pulling her up into his arms, “I just want to keep you safe, sweetheart.”

  “I love you Daddy,” she sniffled into his shirt.

  He smiled, “I love you too Melody,” he kissed the top of her head and then stood with her in his arms, carrying her up the stairs.

  “You aren’t really going to make me go to Mrs. Johnson’s again tomorrow are you?” she asked as he laid her in their bed.

  He laughed, pulling her to him as his lips found hers, “I think I’ve found the best punishment ever,” he whispered against her lips.

  Epilogue

  “Okay, okay,” the young woman smiled up at him, “I’ll do one more shot, but this time,” she wavered as she placed her palm on his chest, “you have to do one with me.”

  “Of course,” Mike Christopher took the two shots of whiskey the bartender slid across the bar.

  “To the best vacation ever,” the girl smiled as she touched her glass to his before throwing her head back and downing it.

  Mike watched the young woman with a wide smile as he slid his own shot to the man sitting next to him. The man greedily poured it down his throat before the girl even noticed a thing.

  Mike covered her hand with his, holding it to his chest, “Do you want to go for a boat ride before you head out?”

  “You have your own boat?” she squealed, bouncing in her chair.

  He nodded, smiling at her childish exuberance. Yes, she would be perfect.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she laughed, “I want my own boat someday.”

  Mike chuckled, paid the bartender and then led her out of the bar to direct her to his yacht. When they arrived she ran to the Yacht with a wide smile, “What are you, some kind of movie star?” she asked, staring up at it.

  “Not a move star,” he grinned, “just a very important person.”

  She boarded the yacht and wobbled, losing balance.

  “Be careful, baby,” Mike said, leading her by the elbow to the bedroom cabin, “maybe you should lie down while I get the boat out in open water. It will give you a chance to let you get used to the motions of the ocean.”

  “What about my flight in a couple hours?” she asked.

  “Oh don’t worry about that,” he said easily giving her the impression they would be back in plenty of time, “go on in and lay down, I’ll get it out in open water and you’ll feel a lot better.”

  “Good idea,” she smiled up at him, “I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

  “Indeed,” he said, shutting the cabin door and quickly maneuvering out of port.

  Detective Brian Bishop had ruined everything Mike had created. He really had thought Little Alexa had great promise and would have been a valuable asset, but when he caught word that they were onto him, he’d had to dispose of Alexa to get out of the United States undetected. This time, he’d be more careful, and he certainly wouldn’t let anyone visit his home, or yacht, for their purchase of one of his Littles.

  Mike had to scrap nearly all of his contacts and start anew. He’d been subtly putting out word that he was still training, but he had to be very careful who he communicated with. He wouldn’t be caught again, that was for damn sure.

  It had already taken another six months to build up another punishment room and it was even better than the last one. He didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself by buying everything at once so he’d collected all the things he needed over time. It was a nuisance, but he was finally ready for his next trainee.

  Finally he would destroy Detective Bishop, in time. For now, he was rebuilding his empire. He was actually happy with his location now. He had an estate on an Island off the coast of Cozumel. It was turning out to be an even better prospect for collecting women to train. Cozumel law enforcement was easily bought.

  Mike increased the speed as they traveled across the water and he set the destination for his estate. In a little over an hour he would be safe at home with his new Little. He checked the dials once more before heading back to the cabin.

  “Didn’t I tell you to lay down and take a nap, young lady?” he said as he opened the door and saw her standing and looking out the window.

  “What?” she turned to him.

  “Get your Little ass into that bed,” he ordered, pointing at the large bed.

  “Why are you talking like that?” she asked, her nerves jumping, “I think I need to get back to the island, I need to pack for the airport still.”

  He ignored her concerns, “Papa told you to take a nap and you’re being naughty.” He started walking toward her and she backed into the corner, “Papa’s going to have to punish such a naughty girl,” he didn’t bother closing the cabin door. There was no need, they were already far enough from port that her screams would be lost in the crashing waves of the ocean.

  Mike Christopher’s Little Empire would continue and nobody was going to stop him, especially not Detective Brian Bishop.

  **The hunt for Mike Christopher continues. Look for the next book coming soon!

  If you enjoyed Little Lydia’s story, please check out my other books on Amazon, Apple, and Barnes and Noble.

  Alice Everly

  authoraliceeverly@gmail.com