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“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, but this time I didn’t mean it.
“I want to ask something else, little girl,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Will you tell me your first name?”
My muscles tensed with nervous apprehension and I pulled away slightly. His arms curled tight and then I realized that I wanted to tell him. Would it be so wrong to give him this little piece of me? I didn’t have to tell him my last name, just the first. He wouldn’t be able to find out anything about me just by knowing that. Right?
“I…” I began.
“Daddy would really like to know your name, little girl,” he pushed, a bit more firmly and that tiny part of me demanded that I answer.
“It’s… My name is Willow, Daddy,” I whispered.
* * *
The two of us sat together for a while longer. I didn’t rush to move, and he didn’t either. I didn’t know what more to say, so I didn’t say anything at all for a long time. Finally, he gently helped me to stand on my own two feet and grasped my jeans. He roughly pulled them up into place, not heeding my wincing as the fabric pressed against the welts his belt had left behind. He buttoned them closed and my bottom burned. I swallowed heavily, trying not to think about the fact that I’d earned each and every stripe.
“Where are we?” I finally whispered.
“We’re in the lower levels of my mansion,” he replied.
“I’ve never seen this room before,” I said softly.
“You’ve never been here,” he declared, leveling me with the darkness of his glare. There was something else there. He knew something I didn’t and that was deeply unsettling all by itself.
“Where is your mansion located?” I ventured carefully.
“We’re in the northern Alps. In Switzerland,” he answered. We’d met in Vegas and had a whirlwind romance there where he had a penthouse in the Bellagio. We’d never gone anywhere else. I hadn’t even known he owned any other property outside it.
With the money he had, I should have.
“You will remain here as my wife. You will be known legally as Sophia Jackson, the same name you chose when you walked down the aisle to marry me in the first place. You will not leave without permission. If you make an attempt, I will be forced to keep you down here chained to this bed with the marks of Daddy’s cane across your backside instead of my belt,” he warned.
A quiet whimper escaped my throat.
A cane?
He wouldn’t, right? That was just an idle threat. It had to be.
I chanced a glance up to his face and what I saw there was terrifying. His blue eyes were dark and merciless. It wasn’t just a jest. He was telling the truth.
Every single word.
I gulped and nodded, feeling a tremor quiver through my legs. The belt had been enough to make me cry. I had no doubt the cane would too.
“Answer me properly, little girl,” he pressed.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
My pussy clenched tightly.
“Come. I will show you our bedroom. You’d probably like to take a bath, yes?”
Our bedroom?
“I would like a bath or a shower or something very much,” I muttered, so off balance that it was beginning to feel deeply troubling.
