Staying With Daddy – Part Two by puppyduck_
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Violet woke from a restless sleep, cold and naked on the tiles of kitchen floor She still felt sore from the night before, and now her body ached from the hard surface she had been sleeping on for some time. , She had felt her father, Patrick, climb into bed with her at some point in the night; he had turned her over onto her side and spooned her naked body, and she had felt his cock pressing up against her ass throughout the night as though it was a private joke between them. But now he was nowhere to be seen.
Panic rose in her chest when she realised she had been chained to the radiator, the metal links looped through what felt like a collar around her neck and then secured with a robust padlock.
The sun was bright outside, but the air was cold and she was beginning to realise that the house did not retain heat. It started as a small annoyance – frustration that she had been put here in the night without any explanation, but she expected her father to come into the kitchen once he heard her calling him.
Then the anger built up, stemming from the insecurity and rejection she was beginning to feel when she listened to the silence of the house and realised she was the only one occupying it. He had forced her into being fucked in the ass, used her as though she was his property and then completely eradicated any sense of independence she had managed to forge for herself as an adult woman. Now he was a no-show – just as he had been for most of her life until yesterday.
The chain wasn’t long enough to allow Violet to stand, so she remained sat cross-legged on the floor as she tried to tug or slip her way out of captivity. It felt like hours had passed when she finally heard the front door of the house open.
She saw the smirk on his face when he entered the kitchen and saw her, and felt herself start to shake with the anger she was feeling.
“Where the fuck have you been?” she hissed.
“To the shop,” he said calmly, putting his purchases away into various cupboards, paying her almost no attention whatsoever. “Should I have left a note?”
He knew it was a cruel thing to say; it was how he had first managed to separate himself from his family. A note had been left in the kitchen, saying he had gone to the shops. He had taken a bag packed with a few belongings, and when he finally got to the shop he had carried on walking.
Violet’s eyes flashed with a repressed kind of fury, and her cheeks began pooling with red. She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he cut her off before she could speak.
“I told you last night, girl,” he said, “I’m going to discipline you. I’m going to break you down to nothing and build you back up.”
Violet noticed how his voice had changed from last night. It was no longer gentle and calm; it had an amused and arrogant edge to it that was verging on cruel and spiteful. She also noticed he had replaced her preferred nickname of “puppy” with a very different one – “girl”.
She looked at him stubbornly, not breaking eye contact for a second.
Last night,Violet had been drunk and excited by seeing him. She had felt playful and eager to please her daddy, but after a morning of ruminating on the entire thing, somewhat hungover and very uncomfortable, she had decided that she wasn’t up for playing his games any more.
“I’m cold,” she said bluntly. “Where’s my suitcase? Where are my things? I want to leave.”
He almost smiled at her, and looked at her as though he admired her gumption to request such a thing.
She sat with her arms crossed over her bare chest and her legs tucked underneath her, trying to hide herself from him. Too little too late, Patrick thought.
“You’re not going anywhere. You like being a brat, don’t you, girl?” he sneered once he had finished unpacking groceries. Patrick winked at her. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ve broken in tougher girls than you.”
He kept his distance from her in his attempt to offer no comfort or affection at all; she had a few lessons to learn. He could see the anger building inside her even more, and that was something she was going to have to let go of.
“Take this thing off me!” She demanded, tugging at her collar. Patrick stood in silence for a few minutes, watching Violet working herself up into an agitated frenzy as she pulled at her chain and almost made an attempt to pull the radiator from the wall.
Eventually, he left the kitchen, offering her no indication of how long she would have to stay there for.
Violet wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She screamed and struggled until she had exhausted herself and bruised her hands by trying to escape.
She knew her father had gone into the living room, and she heard the television switch on. It had comforted her for a while to listen to him move around in there and know that he was sat a few meters away watching a program, but after a while he shut the door and she was condemned to silence.
There wasn’t a clock in sight in the kitchen, and the only cue of how long she had spent on the floor was that the sun was beginning to set outside.
She had shivered the entire time, the cold stone tiles made her butt and the soles of her feet sting, and the radiator dug into her side.
When the sky had become black outside, the door finally opened. Patrick walked into the kitchen and over to the sink. He poured himself a glass of water and drank half of it in front of her, leaving the rest of it on the kitchen counter where he knew Violet would be able to see it but never reach it. He made an effort of not even glancing in her direction before he turned the light out and closed the door, making his way to bed.
Violet cried and yelled on the first night, flying back and forth from white hot anger to broken desperation.
“Fuck you!”
“Please, daddy I’m sorry!”
“I hate you! I want to leave!”
“I miss you, I’ll be good!”
Patrick entered the kitchen in a hurry in the morning, making another effort not to pay his daughter any attention, though he couldn’t help but noticing that somewhere in the night she had turned into a brat again as she cycled through her raw emotions.
“You fucking prick!” she screamed with enough hysteria in her voice to make it difficult to understand her, as she still struggled against the chain that held her there. “I hate you! I swear to God, I hate you! I want to leave!”
Patrick grabbed his car keys from the table before he turned and left for work.
The fear had clung onto Violet to begin with, especially during the night in the dark. Then the anger and frustration again, which felt like it was going to tear through her chest when she saw him that morning. The discomfort was not nice, but she had become accustomed to the hardness and coldness of the floor after a few hours, and she found she could even manage to sleep.
It was the boredom she struggled with most. She counted the tiles on the floor, hummed herself songs and even tried to masturbate. The lack of stimulation made it difficult to avoid the thoughts and emotions she had been trying to keep out for over a decade, and soon after they took hold she found herself staring into space with no concept of how much time had passed.