Daddy's Little Bait Read online

  “Fuck!” I hiss, disregarding the whispering voice in my head that my little girl needs her undisturbed rest.

  My chest heaves and I blink away the lightheadedness, I wipe the excessive cum from my cock and shove it back inside my pants. I close my fingers around the cum-soaked panties and sneers, a shiver of disgusting pleasure fills me as I throw open the door and yank the back door open.

  I fling the panties inside duffle bag that I didn’t close all the way, it lands straight inside without having snagged anything as I securely zip it up. Pulling her down the seat and towards me, her shirt rides up to her stomach and her shorts goes up to her hips.

  Picking her body up, I let her body rest on mine as I shoulder the duffle bag while kicking the door shut.

  The eerily dark and hauntingly terrifying abandoned hospital greets me in all its ruined glory.

  “This will be our temporary home, little girl. Don’t worry, Daddy won’t let the ghosts get to you.”

  I laugh to myself, eyes curving sinisterly.

  Chapter Two

  Romy

  Something feels wrong.

  Not sure if it’s a loose spring poking my back or the fact that I don’t hear Kevin singing in the kitchen while making breakfast for his lovely boyfriend. Love makes people do irrational things, like waking up at six in the morning to make the perfect egg omelet.

  It could also be the smell of dust and rusty metallic smell.

  I turn to my side, relieving the pressure on my back from the rogue spring that wouldn’t stop poking my back. The bed creaks and rattles loudly, my eyebrows furrow and I crack one eye open. I blink away the sleepy haze in my eyes, rubbing and yawing before I cough at the sour and dryness coating my tongue.

  Graffiti drawn on the crackling wall, broken glass littered on the floor as the cobwebs on the ceiling from my point of view is enough to make me jerk off the bed.

  Unless Kevin had redecorated my room into a horror movie set for his project as a film student, then he and I needed to talk about the only acceptable holiday to do this as Halloween is only one week away.

  Kevin never had any patients in the first place, but this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have to be in any part of his film projects.

  The rats, spiders, and other things that crawl scare me. However, it’s the isolation that terrifies me as the unknown lurks in the background of the well-lit room where the bed is lined with a film of plastic and a cloth over it.

  I’m in the middle of the room with this ripped, dismantled, and stained room seemingly closing in on me. My heart pounds heavily, fighting against my ribcage as I turn my head to the other side where the doorless entrance calls for me.

  I can leave and yell at Kevin for this prank. He knows I can't stand anything that has to do with suspense; I don’t do so well with jump scares or any paranormal activities.

  I cried in fear during a horror movie and I have never hated thrillers more than that movie. Kevin said it was a thriller movie with a slide of slashing themes, but my main concern was the scary nature of it. I don’t care what genre they’re in, I don’t need to stay up at night and wake up with expensive bags under my eyes.

  Cringing at each creak of the old bed, I look down at the floor filled with glass and cracked concrete. To my horror, I see a chain hooked to a ring on the floor up to my ankle. A silver chain trapping me to this room with my ankle protected by a leather-bound that is itchy on my skin.

  A shiver curl through the hairs on my arms, circling up to my neck before a tingly feeling makes me shake a crawling sensation away from my body.

  A light nauseating sickness tumbles in my belly as I weakly called out, “K-Kevin?”

  I choke a gasp as I heard a heavy set of footsteps coming down from the hallway, swaying closer with dread settling in my heart as my throat closes. My eyes stay wide and focused on the doorway, inching towards the edge of the back as I try to put as much distance between me and whatever is coming.

  At this point, I’m not ruling out trapped ghosts in this place.

  Wherever this is.

  I’m starting to get tunnel vision from the suspense, my palms are sweating and the heavy chain on my ankle rattles noisily.

  Shards of glass crunch underneath the pair of thunderous boots, hounding on my blood as it pumps faster in my ears. I see the toe of the boot first before it goes up to revealing a pair of long and muscular legs, flaring up to strong hips and a narrow waist. The broad chest and wide shoulders, thick neck and the face of a savage man.

  I wanted to overlook the arms littered with tattoos, but my mind won’t allow that piece of information to fly over my head.

  His eyes are wild, his smirk strikes fear in my soul.

  Being stunningly attractive doesn’t negate the danger radiating off of him.

  This man is huge with an air of mystery and power.

  My breath hitches to a stop when he stalks up to me; wordlessly destroying the sharp glass on the ground as he stands at the edge of the bed. My skin prickled with anxiety, paralyzing fear grips me to the bed as I tilted my head up to his face.

  That was a mistake.

  His hand snaps close around my exposed neck and he clenches it with such force that my eyes promptly fades with blackness as I claw at his hand. He kneels on the bed, the frame groans under his weight and he leans close to my face.

  I gasp softly, struggling to inhale as his scent assaults me. I can't describe it, but it suits him in a way that the dark masculine scent can only belong to him.

  He owns that scent.

  “Good morning, little princess.”

  He practically purred, shivers zoom down my spine and I arch involuntarily, this unnatural reaction of mine is too questionable as last night comes back to me in flashes. This man was the one who was in my room last night, standing over me with a nightmarish glint in his dark eyes.

  So dark that they could almost pass as black.

  My lips wobble, tears staining my vision as I weakly cough for air. His fingers light their grip, but he still has a hold around me that warns the inner turmoil of mine to stay put unless I want to stop living.

  “Where are your manners?” his nails dig painfully around my neck.

  Wincing, my thoughts fly to the best solution to stop his grip.

  “G-good morning?” I squeak, gasping.

  He hums, his lingers lighten with the man’s other hand stroking my fingers. I didn’t feel him touch me until he had my fingers in between us, a strangely intimate action for a man who just kidnapped me from my own home.

  Maybe he’s delusional.

  I can’t tell if being in his own head or being clearer than day makes this situation worse.

  “I know you have many questions, but all you need to know is that obeying me will be your only chance of survival.”

  I swallow thickly, his palm pressing down on my throat harder.

  What is he talking about? What survival? Is this some kind of twisted game where he hunts humans for sport?

  “You’re overthinking, little princess,” he smiles; there is no humor in his eyes.

  I wince when my voice cracks, “Who are you?”

  His smile falters and my heart freezes as I might have insulted him, “Did I say you can talk?”

  My heart lurches up, beating against my ribs as my eyes widen. My palms shake, nails digging into my own skin as I try not to move an inch of my muscles.

  “Listen to me and you will be fine, but I can guarantee you that I will mark your pretty skin if you step out of line,” he warns, and I have no choice but to go along with it.

  He smiles, psychopathic and deliciously handsome.

  “Do not ask why you’re here or when you’re going home because I won’t answer you, and it will anger me,” he said, scratching his nails over my pulse.

  “It’s something I would rather keep your sight away from, little princess.”

  I don’t understand this man; he’s threatening me while simultaneously being considerate. I don�
��t know if that is the right word for him or this whole thing, but his words and actions contradict themselves so much that I’m having a hard time believing which way he falls on my scale.

  Is he a good guy or a bad man?

  “As what you will call me,” he growls, pressing his lips on mine in a passionate kiss that is a touch too intimate.

  My throat hurts as a whimper gets forced out, he slants his lips tightly against mine that it'll be bruised if he goes on.

  “You will call me Daddy, little princess.”

  My heart stops and my brain freezes, my eyes widen at that absurd notion of calling this man Daddy of all things. This leaves my mind dizzy and frenzied, unable to comprehend what he wants and what I am suppose to do in this situation.

  I try to wrench my neck from his grip, but his strength is too much for my puny arms. I don’t have even three percent of his muscle mass, so there is no way to get myself out of this without hurting myself.

  Whining does work, but I need to breathe so I stop struggling and simply lay my hands on his wrist, feeling the pulse under my finger as he glares down me.

  “Don’t do this,” he said, pecking my lips in a gentle kiss. “Don’t fight me, you’ll hurt yourself.”

  “Please let me go,” I beg, flinching at the soft strokes of his finger above the bruises that are forming around my neck.

  “No, I can't do that,” he said, breathing on my lips before kissing them gently.

  I don’t dare reciprocate his actions, too frozen in fear to decipher the meaning behind his ministrations. When he drops his hand to caress my collarbone, I have the urge to scream and I open my mouth to try, but it hurts to speak.

  I cough in my hand and winces; I drop my weight on my butt and lean heavily on my thighs that are wrapped around the hand of his strange man. He moves to sit on the bed, trapping me with his body as the glaring edges of broken glass shards welcome my back anytime I want to lean away from him.

  “You can scream all you want, little princess. No one will hear you, this place is abandoned and far away,” he mentions dryly, grazing over my pebbled nipple through my shirt on his journey down to my body.

  I don’t sleep with a bra on at nights and this man is touching me so inappropriately that it makes me wish I had worn twenty winter coats to bed last night.

  “I can promise you that I won’t hurt you too much if you listen to me, but we need to set some ground rules,” he said, kissing my crinkled forehead.

  He’s not going to smooth down the suspicion and skepticism away from my frightened and expressive forehead.

  “One, you don’t even try to run away.”

  I would have run away if there wasn’t a chain on my ankle and millions of broken glass around me. Desperation is a reasonable defense to run bare feet down the fall and to exit or fly out the window, but I have always been a cowardly girl.

  I don’t do well under pressure, and that worsens in a situation where I’m kidnapped and put into a hospital room by this deranged man who makes my heart do funny things. I blame the usually attractive face and his mannerism that confuses me.

  “Two, you will only listen to me and no one else.”

  I nod frightfully.

  “Three; whatever happens, I will do everything I can to keep you.”

  Keep me?

  I don’t voice that thought, but it swims in my head. Whether it is to keep me alive or keep me from dying, I don’t know what this man is thinking or where his train of thought goes. Nothing he says makes much sense other than the fact that he’s hurting me to get me to listen to him, and he doesn’t want to hurt me.

  “Understand?” he stares into my eyes, letting my heart race abnormally fast again.

  “Y-yes.” I shudder.

  “Yes, what?” he scolds, holding my ribs with his big hand.

  I hope he doesn’t crush them, I just very recently discovered how much I take advantage of breathing. I can't take that for granted again, not when this man has the power to take it all away with one hand.

  “Yes, Daddy,” I murmur, a blush warms my cheek reluctantly.

  He hums, pressing his stubbles to the side of my face when he kisses me as a reward for my cooperation. I have to play along or else I would have an unpleasant moment with his excessive display of dominance.

  “You’re mine, little princess, no one can take you away,” he murmurs, sealing his lips tighter on my cheek.

  “I’ll kill them and you will be responsible for it.”

  My heart can't take all of this suspense; it’s nearly going into hyperventilation as he smiles against my cheek. Tears cloud my eyes as I put my focus on the wall spray painted with graffiti, my lips seal tight as I can't comprehend his words.

  Why would it be my fault that someone dies if they try to save me?

  I just don’t understand this man’s logic, but no one can argue with crazy.

  “But,” he sneers, nipping on my cheek with his sharp teeth.

  I wince at the short burst of pain that etches onto my tender skin; I squirm lightly and try to subtly move away from him. He crushes my fingers under his grip and hisses out a warning to make me move back into his embrace, staying in a position that will make a gargoyle proud at my stiffness.

  “If you run away from me, I will break your legs.” he drops his crushing strength from my hand and trail down to my trembling thighs.

  My fingers ache in soreness; I wiggle them to get the blood flowing in their rigor state and swallows as his hand skims across the edge of my shorts. Gliding one long way down to the ankle without the restraints.

  He wraps his big hand around the fragile ankle, grinding my ankle bones together in a suffocating clutch as I swear I could feel them rubbing against each other.

  “It’d be a good thing,” he muses to himself, “You won’t need the chain anymore.”

  He retreats back, getting up from the bed and reaching my ankle to yank me towards him. My back hits the back and I stop my shirt from riding up to expose my breasts, I fight back a shiver when he thumbs my exposed tummy as it quivers under his curious touch.

  He unlocks the leather binding on my ankle, allowing air to blow on the reddened skin as it itches with a slight burn from the friction before. I pull myself up and rub my ankle absentmindedly, debating if I should make a run for it and forget the doubt in my mind that he’ll catch up to me if he runs.

  The glass would slow me down and I do not want to see what this man is capable of, not when he frightens me with his presence more than his words.

  “I won't stop you from running,” he smirks, my face reels back into a neutral shell that tries to shield him from reading my expressions.

  “Test my patience, little princess, go ahead.”

  I shake my head, answering him and getting rid of the thoughts of escape from my head momentarily. That doesn’t mean I have given up on wiggling out of this monster’s hands, but I need strategic plans to make it out alive.

  “No?” he mocks with a disappointed sigh, “Shame, you would have looked so gorgeous in red.”

  This man is officially insane, a sadist in the disguise of a handsome angel with the devil manifesting from his aura.

  He brushes away one lone tear rolling down my cheek, I sniff with a hiccup. I turn my face away from him, crying into my shoulder in a soundless cry that only shakes my body in need to process this emotional rollercoaster.

  Fear persists and exhaustion kicks in, the night of sleep doesn’t do anything to help with the fatigue I feel as the adrenaline runs on empty fuel. I’m terrified of this man and my body won’t relax around him, but my body is fighting so as not to collapse on the bed.

  “Little princess,” he nudges his finger under my chin and turns me to face him, “Look at me when you cry, it makes me want to hurt you so you can shed more tears.”

  A choked sob tumbles out, tears splattering down on my thighs as he has this sick glee in his eyes. Faintly, I wonder what made him put his sight on me and I would go back into
time and never do that something so that this wouldn’t happen.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” I beg, sniffling with another wet sob.

  I’m scared, alone, and utterly helpless in the hands of this man. In an environment I have never seen before and adding on that I’m not the type to pick confrontation as I would rather run away to avoid conflict than to get hurt.

  Pain is not my biggest fan as I’m sensitive to the slightest pain and I bruise easily, it takes even longer for them to fade away. The discoloration around my neck would stay for weeks, a constant reminder of what he could and would do to me at any given time with no reason at all.

  If I’m still alive for that long.

  “I have breakfast, and you need to eat. I can’t let my little princess starve, right?”

  I just want to wake up from this nightmare and hear Kevin singing his comic theme songs again.

  Chapter Three

  Jax

  She eats slowly, chewing in soft bites that reminds me of a bunny; cheeks bouncing and round with tear-stained marks. She missed some when she wiped them away because she knew she would get me hyped to make her cry more.

  I divide my attention between the newspaper in my hand and her meek actions, glancing down on the biggest new article for the day. I don’t read newspapers often, only when I need to for research, but the internet is my go to. It has everything I need at my fingertips; a couple of minutes of research can tell me the life story of an unsuspecting victim.

  It’s a picture of her missing person's flier that brings joy to me as I mesmerize her beauty in the black and white paper.

  Her roommate must have reported her missing after looking into her room that was in disarray and chaotic; I made it messy in a way that isn’t organized so that the chaos would arouse suspicion from the police and that the method of her kidnapping is different.

  I don’t need them to read too deeply into her disappearance.

  It took less than one night to have her face and name plastered all over the city, getting her breakfast was an experience that needs to be replayed. Just ordering her favorite food from her favorite breakfast café is unsafe and staring at her missing person's poster takes a lot of balls to not look guilty.