Daddy's Little Princess

by Rachel Burns

  Daddy's Little Princess

  By: Rachel Burns

  Daddy's Little Princess

  Copyright 2014 Rachel Burns

  Published by Rachel Burns

  Text Copyright © 2014 by Rachel Burns

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act 1976, no part of the publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by and means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – Running Late

  Chapter 2 – The Truth Doesn’t Always Set You Free

  Chapter 3 – There Are No Saints Here

  Chapter 4 – A Night At The Club

  Chapter 5 – Never Lie To Your Master

  Chapter 6 – She Wouldn’t Have Done It For Me

  Chapter 7 – Accepting Presents From Strangers

  Chapter 8 – Merry Christmas

  Chapter 9 – Slave Auction

  Chapter 10 – A New Home For Little Becky

  Chapter 11 – Call Me Daddy

  Chapter 12 – Swimming Lessons

  Chapter 13 – A Day In Town With Daddy

  Chapter 14 – I’d Like You To Meet Someone

  Chapter 15 – Two Is Company, Three Is A Crowd

  Chapter 16 – Alone With Amy

  Chapter 17 – The Best Thing For Daddy

  Chapter 18 – Running Away

  Chapter 19 – Give Her Whatever She Wants

  Chapter 20 – Everyone Deserves To Be Loved

  Chapter 21 – Nanny’s Funeral

  Chapter 22 – Becoming A Family

  Epilogue

  There was a darkness there,

  surrounding me.

  It was swallowing all the light,

  leaving me blind.

  But you appeared,

  and a dim light started to glow.

  It got stronger,

  as you moved closer to my heart.

  I could see dark spots,

  that every sun has,

  but mostly you glowed.

  I went to your light,

  and thrived in it.

  By: Rachel Burns

  Chapter 1 – Running Late

  I was already running late when the taxi, which was a couple cars ahead of me, rammed into another car. I shut my car off and watched the men yell at each other. Instead of moving off to the side and letting traffic flow, they went at each other and pointed out the damage to their cars. I couldn’t move forward or back.

  This was one of the rare moments in life when I wished I had my cell with me. It was at home in a drawer. It beeped at me every once in a while, and then I recharged it, but that was the extent of our relationship. I had gotten it in case of an emergency, but I never took it with, and no one had my number.

  However, it would be good to have now. I could call this place, where I had an appointment, and tell them that I was going to be running late.

  My publisher had made this appointment for me. I didn’t want to go. It was embarrassing even. I wrote books for lighter reading. They were stories where the men were still men. The men took care of their beloved wives even if they were naughty, taking them over their knees and giving them a sound spanking.

  However, this place where I was being sent to wasn’t like that. The people who went to that club were in to bondage and rough sex. Their website said the girls liked it, but let’s call a spade a spade. What woman wanted to be kept as a slave and degraded?

  If that were truly the case, those poor women needed help. The women in my stories always did what they could to get out of their spankings, but their men never truly hurt them. They loved their wives more than anything else in the world. Like I said, they were real men. I didn’t consider what happened at the club, where I was going, to be love.

  My publisher wanted me to try a story in this direction. I wasn’t interested. The stories I wrote for them were bad enough. I used a pen name. I wrote real books too, that could be sold at any store, even children’s books. Writing spanking stories was my biggest secret.

  The police had finally showed up, and they were calmly instructing the men to move their vehicles to the side. I watched my navigation system and followed it past the club. The club took up the whole building. It had rooms upstairs for doing stuff I didn’t even want to know about.

  I parked in a nearby parking lot. I got out of the car and lifted my laptop bag out and checked on my pens and paper. I never went anywhere without my laptop. I had dressed very properly for today. I didn’t feel comfortable doing this.

  I was hoping my clothes would keep them at a distance. I had a rose-colored skirt-suit on. The skirt went to my ankles. I had pantyhose on despite the summer heat and matching shoes to the suit. A white silk blouse, and to finish it off I was wearing pearls. My dark reddish brown hair was especially long, so I had it up in a bun because of the heat. I wasn’t trying to kill myself.

  I was the perfect vision of an English teacher.

  The sun was nice and warm today. I could be outside typing away, but no I let myself get talked into this. I should take one of those courses, where you learn how to be assertive and say no.

  I hoped no one saw me going into a place like this. I would die of embarrassment. I would also never write a story about one of the women in there. There was always a lot of me in my characters. There was no me in any of that kind of crap.

  I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It was open, so I just walked in. I walked up to a man at the bar. He looked at me like I came from another planet. My way of thinking, I did.

  “Can I help you?” His look told me he didn’t think it was at all probable that he could. I had a piece of paper in my hand saying who I should ask for. I adjusted my laptop bag over my shoulder and read the name from the paper.

  “Yes, I have an appointment with Mr. Baker. I’m running a little late, but there was a car accident. It happened right in front of me.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “I should have been here half an hour ago. Sorry.” I shrugged.

  He looked even more surprised. “You have an appointment?”

  I fought not to roll my eyes. “If I’ve missed him then that’s okay. We could always reschedule,” I suggested.

  He smiled then. “No, he is here.” He picked up the phone. “The girl for the appointment is here.”

  I didn’t like the idea of him calling me a girl. This time, I actually did roll my eyes.

  Why was I here? I asked myself.

  I was mentally practicing saying the word no. No, I won’t stay to have a look at the weirdos who are coming this evening. No, I don’t want to be tied up and beaten. No, no, no.

  “If you will just follow me.” He smirked at me and made a motion with his hand like one of those old fashion movie theater attendants.

  “Of course.” I just couldn’t say no. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. My whole body was uncomfortable. It was warning me of the danger here. In my head a voice was whispering, ‘Run!’

  However, I overruled it, making my feet walk normally following the man, who brought me into an office and left again.

  I laid my bag on the side of the desk and got out a pad and pen. I had already prepared lots of questions, but they were all stupid. I might as well ask what his favorite color was, the questions were that bad. I was wasting both of ours time.

>   I’d rather talk to the women who worked here more than to the owner. His motivations were quite clear: sex and money.

  I sat down on one of the leather chairs and waited. I sat, so I was touching the chair as little as possible. I should have brought antibacterial wipes with me.

  The door open, and a man stepped in. He stood there looking at me without stepping further into the room.

  The man was around my age. I was thirty. The man had shaved his head, so he was bald, and he had a tattoo on his face. He had dark beady eyes. I would bet the devil had the same eye color. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.

  I hated to do it, but decorum required that I stand and shake his hand. I was cursing myself for not bringing those wipes. “How do you do? I’m Rebecca Russell. I’m sorry that I was detained.”

  He shook my hand back, but he didn’t say anything. He looked gobsmacked. Then a smile slowly began to spread across his face.

  “Around here we punish for tardiness.”

  “Yes, I imagine you would, but we will have none of that. If I’m too late, we can reschedule. Otherwise, I suggest we get the interview over with.” Now I sounded like an English teacher too. I was also untalented about hiding my dislike for him, but he was just plain creepy.

  “Yes, let’s get this over with.” He mocked me with his words.

  I was about to call the whole thing off when he took a black pillowcase out of his desk drawer and violently shoved it over my head and held it tightly around my neck.

  I screamed and choked. I was kicking at his legs like a donkey would because he was standing so close behind me. He then ran with me.

  I couldn’t see where we were going, but I could hear others around me. More men. They were laughing.

  Maybe this was only a joke. He would remove the pillowcase and then laugh. Maybe this was his idea of breaking the ice. I relaxed a little thinking this could only be a joke.

  We were going down steps. I stumbled, and he dragged me on. I lost a shoe somewhere along the way. I was pretty sure that I was all bruised up from bumping against the steps of the stairs.

  This wasn’t a joke. He was going to play his games with me. He threw me down on something soft, like a mattress. I couldn’t see anything, and the old saying, about the rest of your senses taking over, wasn’t true. The only thing I could clearly make out was the beating of my heart.

  My hands flew to the pillowcase. I lifted it away, and he slapped me as soon as I was free. “Master didn’t say you could remove it.”

  I sighed and gave him a very mean look. “No! I will not take part in anything that you’re planning. I’m leaving now.” I was proud of my no saying abilities.

  I looked around the room. It was a basement. There were all kinds of torture devices around here. The men were getting undressed. One was filming me as I sat on the dirty mattress. “There must be some mistake here –” I couldn’t finish because he shoved a ball in my mouth that had leather straps attached to it. He fastened it tightly behind my head. My tongue was being pushed down, and the sides of my mouth were being stretched painfully. I was petrified now.

  My hands reached back to try to unfasten the gag thing. I screamed as best I could, but it wouldn’t be enough. No amount of screaming would escape these walls. I started to cry and shake my head.

  “She’s good. This looks so real,” the one with the camera said.

  I shook my head some more. They were mistaken. I wasn’t an actress. I didn’t want this. I got up and tried to run for the staircase and remove that stupid ball from my mouth.

  They smiled at me and tried to catch me. My long skirt made me slow. They had me a second later. There were three of them. All were completely naked in the meantime. Two other men were filming this. Others were holding lights. They were going to make a movie out of this.

  I screamed as best as I could. I tried to stop them, but their hands were everywhere. They removed my jacket and threw it to the side. They opened a couple of buttons on my blouse and pushed it to the side, so my breasts were sticking out. I was flailing around me, trying to get them to stop.

  They reached into my bra and pulled my breasts out painfully. One started chewing on my nipple.

  I shrieked in pain. I kicked at him, trying to get him to stop. One of the other men tied my hands behind my back. He did it in a way that made my shoulders rotate back, and I had to stick my breasts out all the more. The other man, the bald one, was gone.

  The one behind me pulled my head back to him. He had his hand on my chin. He was pulling it back further than it could go. The other one was still chewing and hurting me.

  I screamed because there was nothing else I could do.

  The bald guy came back with a frayed black leather whip. My eyes widened in fear. They were going to whip me. No amount of therapy would ever help me get over this.

  The chewer stepped aside. The one behind me forced my neck even further back, so I was looking at the ceiling. I felt the whip on my breasts. It wasn’t as painful as I thought, but the idea of whipping breasts was new to me. I jerked away from him. I tried to get away from the one holding my neck. I twisted away, but he twisted me right back.

  The whip came down with even more force. “Master is displeased with you. Be a good slave, and do your training like you should.”

  I was so perplexed that I repeated the word ‘slave’; only I said it as a question.

  The men had understood, and they laughed at me. Baldy, who called himself master then whipped my breasts rapidly.

  What had started out as a warm sensation was now unbearable pain. I kicked and fussed and tried to get away while I screamed ‘No’.

  Baldy didn’t stop. He was enjoying my pain too much. He was smiling as he warned me to stay still.

  I couldn’t. I wanted to get away, to beg him to have mercy and to stop, and I wanted to look at my breasts to see if they were bleeding. It felt like they were.

  I broke out into a cold sweat. This couldn’t really be happening. This must be a bad dream, but my nightmares had never been this bad before.

  He stopped. The one holding my neck was stroking it like a madman would. His hand went up and down. It felt like the skin was ripping there. I could hardly breathe with the ball in my mouth. I was crying and sobbing and making screaming noises with my nose because I couldn’t make them with my mouth anymore. Someone slapped my breasts. They bounced in pain. The chewer was back at it again.

  I needed to escape so badly, but I was bound and held so tightly. I had to wonder if it would be better if I let myself fall? Perhaps my neck would break? Certainly, that would be better than what they had in store for me?

  “Quiet, or I’ll punish you even more.”

  I screamed louder, trying so desperately to be understood. I tried to meet someone’s eyes to explain my terror, but they weren’t looking in my eyes.

  The camera was right there though. I begged for help with my eyes. He continued to film.

  Baldy was whipping my breasts some more. I tried to kick him. I didn’t even come close to getting him, but he was mad nonetheless. He put more weight into the strokes. I let myself fall, desperate to get away from the whip. I couldn’t have stood it a minute longer.

  The third man, who stopped chewing when the other started whipping was back again, attaching a metal bar to my foot. He caught me as I fell, pushing up my skirt until it was around my waist. He thought it was funny that I had fallen into his arms. I felt pure hate for him.

  He laid me on the cold cement floor. My hands were still tied behind my back. I rolled back and forth, trying to get my foot away from him, but he was so much stronger than I was. He grabbed my other foot and clamped something metal onto it.

  I couldn’t believe the position I had been brought into. I was lying on my back with my blouse open, and my redden breasts were sticking out obscenely. My hands were still tied behind my back and being squished because I was laying on them. My skirt was around my waist, and my feet were barred wide apart, and the
y were high in the air. The man who had put them there kept pushing the bar further and further back until the bar was over my head. The bald whipper-man went at my backside as the other two held the bar and laughed.

  I tensed my backside and tried to move away from the whip.

  They laughed at my feeble attempts. My face was already wet from my tears.

  Baldy whipped on telling me that he would first stop when I was quiet. I screamed for help. I couldn’t stop and neither would he.

  Eventually, he yanked me up, and walked me over to a wooden workbench like thing. I hobbled along with him as fast as I could, so I wouldn’t fall to the cement floor. He threw me over the bench and fastened my waist to the bench with a leather belt that was there.

  I tested my restraints right away trying to get away. My breasts were hanging in my face, which was pushed down almost to the floor. He pulled down my pantyhose and underwear, but they only went down to my knees because my feet were wide apart. They dug into the sides of my legs. He continued right in whipping me.

  At first I screamed, but then something in me snapped, and I simply didn’t have the strength to scream anymore. I felt so broken.

  I guessed this is what people meant by breaking someone’s spirit. I had written about this moment several times in different books of mine, but the real pain it caused was indescribable.

  I felt a real loss, a loss of self.

  My soul, which I can tell you, lives right above the heart, hurt so deeply. This is what I had been protecting all of my life. My soul is all that I had, and it was broken, cracked down the middle.

  Tears continued to drip from my face. The cameraman was still filming as if nothing was happening.

  I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t fight the darkness, which was falling over me.

  Chapter 2 – The Truth Doesn’t Always Set You Free

  I heard murmuring, voices that I couldn’t place. I was in so much pain. I tried to move, but my muscles were so sore. I felt like I had overdone it at the gym, big time.