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Chapter 1
“Vengeance is a beautiful thing…” Daisy’s captor murmured the words through the dark veil of her blindfold. His voice was like silk, dangerous and refined. “It is associated with crass cruelty and senseless destruction, but I can assure you, Daisy. Everything which happens to you in my possession will happen with the utmost care.”
“I don’t know who you are,” she whimpered.
“You don’t know who you are either,” he replied.
“My name’s Daisy Jeffers.”
“Names mean so little, don’t they? Just a collection of symbols assigned at birth meaning practically nothing, but we are asked to identify with them, and so we do. I gave up my name a long time ago. You will not miss yours for long.”
Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to people like her. They were supposed to happen to other people. Basically, literally any other people.
It had never occurred to her that she was people, and that she too could be jumped in the middle of the night, shoved into a van, spoken to very rudely, and eventually lowered into this place. She was surprised by the lowering. They’d put her in a basket, and sort of winched her down. She’d heard the pulleys squeaking, and also a very disconcerting conversation about whether the ropes could take her weight.
She should have been more afraid, but she was probably in shock. When things were so weird that you didn’t know how to react, sometimes you didn’t. Her psych classes had taught her that. She was a student at Fernside Community College, where she was just a handful of credits away from completing her first year of a degree which might end up making her a psychotherapist. She liked the idea of helping people — though right now, she liked the idea of people helping her instead. If someone could just help her, that would be awesome.
“Who are you?” That seemed like a solid question to ask.
“Does it really matter who I am, given your current circumstances?”
“If you’re a policeman, or a fireman, or any kind of good man, it would matter.”
“I’m not.”
She felt a cold tremor run down her spine and settle in the base of her belly. There was so much intensity in those two words. She had never heard anybody mean anything as firmly, deeply, and completely as he declared that he was not a good man.
“W… what are you going to do to me?”
“So many things.”
He sounded handsome, or maybe rich. He sounded like someone with privilege. She could deduce that he had done this more than once. He was just so calm, so smooth. At least he wasn’t hitting her. It would be worse if he was hitting her.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“I’m not. Killing you would be a waste. It’s not cheap to have a woman abducted from another state just to kill her.”
“Oh.”
Was that supposed to be comforting? It wasn’t very comforting. It was the beginning of the three worst days of Daisy’s life.
He grabbed her by the hair and used that thick, voluminous handhold to maneuver her over his lap. She felt strong thighs beneath her belly, her head dipping toward the ground for a second before he pulled it back up tightly.
“This will hurt, Daisy, and you’ve done nothing to deserve it, so it’s not fair at all. But sometimes, life punishes us for the sins of others. We can do everything absolutely right, and we will still end up in the wrong.”
Before she could process what he was trying to say, she felt his hand slap her ass with a firm, hard stroke. It stung even through her leggings, making her yowl in shock.
“A spanking should be given to the guilty,” the unseen man continued. “It should be given to teach a lesson. But what lesson can you learn, my poor little captive? Other than life hurts, and nothing is fair.”
Each and every one of his words was punctuated with another one of those slaps which made her buck and grind herself against his thighs. She couldn’t help her physical responses. Heat and pain delivered directly to her haunches gave her a sexual sensation.
He spanked her long and hard, musing on life and the imbalances and misfortunes of it all at eloquent length until she was gasping and writhing, squirming her body all over his lap, feeling her clitoris trapped tightly beneath her stretched leggings and snug underwear.
He spanked her until she was sore, until her ass swelled and throbbed with the repeated applications of his palm and until she couldn’t help but whimper on the verge of tears.
And then he stroked her. He ran his fingers down the seam of her leggings and he found first the sensitive space between her cheeks, and then the even more sensitive slit below. Her captor rubbed her there even as tears ran down her cheeks, markers of her fear and her shame and now her inescapable desire.
