Staying With Daddy - Part Two
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.
“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.
Patrick continued this torture for a week.
Violet hadn't spoken at all on the second day – perhaps she thought that would be the key to her release. So Patrick was surprised to hear her address him quite calmly on the third day. He had been leaning against the kitchen counter, smoking a cigarette.
“Daddy?” Violet said quietly, the word catching in her throat. She hadn't had a drink in days.
Patrick ignored her, taking another drag of his cigarette and watching the smoke swirl through the air as he blew it out.
“Daddy, I need the toilet,” she whimpered.
Patrick continued to ignore her and Violet continued to repeat the request.
“I need the toilet. Please, I really need to go!” She sat with one bare leg crossed over the other, squirming on the floor so her chain rattled against the metal of the radiator.
She began to cry softly as she realised she could hold it in no longer. Shaking with effort and emotion, Violet felt the warm stream of piss begin to pool on the floor around her and she couldn't help but sigh at the relief of it.
She felt her face burn bright red as she glanced up and saw her father looking at her for the first time in days. A day ago, she would have given anything for his attention, but now it made her want to die.
Her cries turned into shoulder-shaking sobs and she hid her face in her hands as the pissing continued and covered her legs.
Patrick made sure to look directly at her as the yellow liquid spread out on the floor, watching her humiliation as intently as he could. As soon as she stopped, he docked out his cigarette and left the room.
On the fourth day, Violet woke early in the morning, still covered in her own urine from the night before. Some of it had dried, but she could feel it and smell it on her skin and the small pool on the floor had left her shivering in the night. Her chain was too short to allow her to move away from it and sit somewhere dry.
Patrick walked into the kitchen on that morning, dressed for work.
He held a bottle of water in his hand, the kind with the cap that pulls up and needs to be sucked.
“Would you like some?” he asked her calmly but without much emotion. You couldn't forgive them too soon, or they'd bounce right back.
Violet got to her knees and pulled at his clothes, pouring her desperation out as she sat in a pool of her cold piss.
“Please!” She begged, “Please, I need it!” She began crying again.
Patrick slapped her hard around the face. “If you touch me with your dirty, grubby hands again I'm going to beat you.”
He held the bottle out to her but kept a firm grip on it. She wrapped her lips around it and drank it greedily, moaning with each mouthful that went down her throat. Patrick pulled it away from her when he decided she had had enough.
She wanted to grab at his clothes again but resisted, cowering on the floor instead and murmuring “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” over and over until Patrick pulled her up to a kneeling position.
“Do you want feeding?” He asked her, his voice still cold and flat.
She nodded vigorously; her stomach had been aching for two days.
Her father grabbed her cheeks with one rough hand and squeezed them to try and push her mouth open.
“Open wide for daddy, then,” he insisted, unfastening his trousers with his other hand.
She opened her mouth, seeing his cock properly for the first time. Despite her intense discomfort, she was in awe of the girth of it and couldn't imagine how she had managed to fit all of it in her ass just a few nights before.
He hardened fully in her mouth, filling it up even more with his length. She sucked hungrily back and forth, moving her head in a quickening rhythm while he thrust ever so slightly. She enjoyed the taste and the texture of his shaft against her tongue, closing her eyes as she allowed her mind to wander to how filthy and depraved he had made her become – greedily sucking her father's cock, chained to a radiator and covered in her own piss.
She looked up at him for a second and saw the same uninterested expression he had had for the past four days, while he scrolled through something on his phone; possibly something as mundane as emails. It continued to frustrate her, but at least now she could find some arousal in it.
Patrick checked the watch on his wrist, a small frown furrowing his brow as Violet continued her enthusiastic sucking. It was the most animated he had seen her in days. He grabbed two handfuls of her hair and held her head firmly in place while he began to thrust in and out of her mouth, pushing himself deeper that she had been allowing him to go.
“Come on, girl – I haven't got all day.”
Her daddy's thrusts took her by surprise, but she knew struggling against it would only make it worse. Instead, she relaxed her throat as the head of his cock began hitting the back of it. Even so, she couldn't help but gag around his enormous size. Her eyes watered and spit began drooling out of her mouth and down her chin as she opened her mouth as wide as she could for him to fuck.
She could hear him panting slightly as he came closer and closer to his orgasm. He gripped her hair even tighter and swore under his breath as she began to feel his member throbbing and pulsating inside her mouth – her favourite part about performing oral sex on a man. She felt the warm, salty release of his cum at the back of her throat and swallowed it as soon as he removed himself from her mouth.
Patrick had readjusted his clothes and turned to leave the house before Violet had even had time to wipe the tears from her eyes. As abruptly as that, he had left her again.
Patrick made the point of not entering the kitchen again until the fifth evening. He preferred to make no further interaction with the submissives he had broken in after this point onwards. That way he could maintain the right balance of the humiliating worthlessness they felt and their desire to be given attention. It almost always resulted in their obedience, and he could mould them into whoever he wanted once he had broken them down so much.
Violet appeared to be asleep when he entered the kitchen to prepare a sandwich. He had given her more water of course, the intention of this exercise was not to kill her, but the human body could last weeks without food so he decided that it wasn't necessary. Starved of energy, she had been sleeping for most of the time. He had given her a bucket and some toilet roll after she had pissed herself – cleaning up a grown woman's shit off his kitchen floor wasn't on the many list of things that got him off, but reducing her to going in a bucket piqued his interest a little.
Patrick heard the clinking of her chain as she moved around; he stood with his back to her while he sliced the bread but he could tell she had woken up. It was becoming hard for him to ignore her for so long, but he was enjoying the effect it was having on her behaviour.
He heard a moan that made him instinctively look over his shoulder to check that she was okay. He couldn't tell what kind of noise it was until he saw what she had begun doing to herself.
Lying on her back, her legs pulled almost up to her chest and spread wide apart, she rubbed her clit slowly and gently. She was teasing herself, like she knew he would do, and was making him watch.
Patrick finished making his food and thought about leaving the room. He knew he should have, but the way she looked at him was intoxicating. There was no hint of shyness or adorable coyness; it was bold and seductive and womanly. She was trying to seduce him, without really seeming to care whether it would work or not.
Watch me, I dare you is what she was really saying.
So Patrick watched her, leaning back against the kitchen counter while he ate his sandwich. His face gave nothing away, but the eye contact he made with Violet told her to continue.
His little girl wasn't teasing herself any more. With her legs in the air and spread wide, he could see her pussy, pink and inviting. She propped her torso up and rested her weight on one of her arms, her legs still held up off the floor so she rested on just her buttocks. Her free hand rubbed faster and faster at her clit, and occasionally she would stop to shove two fingers deep inside herself. She threw her head back, pushing her perky breasts out as she rocked her hips back and forth, grinding her body against her hand as hard as she could.
Patrick watched her intently and with focus, trying to ignore the raging erection pressing up against his jeans while he made the effort to memorise the movements she was making in order to achieve her orgasm.
He smirked as her toes curled and she fell onto her back again, her climax just beginning. She was breathless at first, using one hand to rub herself and another hand to fill herself. It only took a moment for the moaning to return, high and loud.
“Oh, God!” She yelled through her moans, her eyes shut tight and her back arched as she squirmed naked on the floor.
Patrick decided to put his erection to good use, and fed her his cum again once she had come down from her orgasm.
Violet began to deteriorate quickly after that night. She remained silent for the next two days, unable to hold a thought for long enough to speak it out loud.
On the final evening, Patrick leaned against the counter smoking a cigarette. Violet had taken to intense fits of sobbing, which all ended with half-hour-long panic attacks where she tugged desperately at her collar and screamed that she couldn't breathe. This tended to be followed by hours of blank-faced staring into space, and during these periods she didn't even seem to notice that he had entered the room.
He wasn't surprised that she had stopped speaking to him – after this point, all of the submissives he had trained remained silent until he finally spoke to them again. They realised there was no point.
It was night time when Patrick decided to release his daughter. He did it without a single word, simply standing over her and unlocking the padlocks that secured her there. She was silent too, and her gaze was downcast. Perfect, he thought.
Violet wobbled at first, feeling extremely lightheaded from the lack of nutrition, but her father steadied her effortlessly and guided her towards the sink where he gave her a warm soapy wash – she had pissed herself again despite having the bucket right next to her, but he didn't know whether she had noticed it or not. Violet remained silent and stunned, as he thought she would.
“Daddy saw you have an accident,” he said softly.
Violet nodded, staring down at the floor as he wiped the back of her legs with a sponge.
“Did you forget about your bucket? That's okay, puppy – these things happen. Nothing I haven't seen before, remember?”
Violet felt dazed as her father led her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He was being nice again. She went through the motions, putting one leg in front of the other until they turned a corner and she found herself in his room again.
He sat on the bed and pulled her onto his lap. The difference between them was stark; he was fully clothed and well-presented from work, clean from his shower in the morning, and still smelling of the cologne he had sprayed on. She was naked, shivering, filthy and broken. She felt worthless.
Patrick pulled her close to him and wrapped the covers around her body, rubbing her legs and arms quickly up and down with his hands to try and warm her up. He planted light kisses all along her jawline, up her cheeks, her nose and her forehead while he rocked her back and forth. He needed to let her know that the punishment was over now, and as long as she had learned a lesson from it everything would be fine.
He cupped her face in his hand gently and made her look up at him.
“It's okay now, I'm here,” he whispered.
“I don't want you to leave me on my own,” Violet said, her bottom lip trembling and tears filling her eyes.
God, he loved it when she cried. Aroused by the vulnerability of her, he reached down and rubbed her clit as he spoke to her, inserting a finger and moving it back and forth inside her. It was a snug fit; she hadn't had time to get wet.
“I'm not going anywhere now, puppy. I think you've learnt your lesson, haven't you?”
She nodded, not saying a word.
Patrick enjoyed how shy and coy she had become, and how dependent she seemed on him. He knew now that he had managed to break her down, and he could build her back up whichever way he wanted. The thought of it made his cock harden even more.
He pulled his shirt off over his head, and she immediately began kissing his chest frantically as though she could have worshipped him. He unbuckled his trousers and she tugged them down quickly without any requesting, and reached into his boxers, using both of her tiny hands to rub his shaft expertly.
Patrick stripped fully and leaned over her, holding his weight up on his arms. Underneath him, Violet rubbed and rocked herself against him, her hands fluttering over his bare chest, his taut biceps and scratching at his back and his shoulders as he kissed her neck.
She cried some more when the head of his cock finally pressed against her hole and then deeper into her pussy. She wrapped around him snugly, and he could hear himself swearing under his breath.
Violet could feel herself shaking underneath her daddy. The week had been a difficult one, and she still wasn't sure how she felt about him other than knowing she depended on him now. She had to do as she was told unless she wanted to be chained up again, and leaving definitely didn't feel like much of an option. She knew she was sobbing as he moved his shaft in and out of her, but she couldn't control the range of emotions she was feeling and it seemed to be turning him on. He pulled at her hair and slapped her face one minute, and then stroked her cheek and murmured sweet things into her ear the next – both of them a confused tangle of bodies.
He stuck his thumb into her mouth while he adjusted himself onto his knees, knowing he could fuck her faster from this angle. His pace quickened and Violet sucked on his thumb for what felt like dear life as she took the pounding.
“Did you like eating my cum, puppy?” he asked her, breathlessly.
She nodded and murmured “M-hm,” around his thumb.
“Open wide then,” he told her, taking his thumb out of her mouth.
Her eyes widened in excitement and he noticed the slight smile on her lips as she opened her mouth and raised her head a little. He came closer and closer to his climax while he watched her like this, waiting expectantly and eagerly to taste him.
He pulled out of her without warning and rubbed his cock with his hand, while he came all over her body. The intensity of it made his legs weak, and his cum covered her from her belly to her perfect tits, some landing on her neck and chin.
He rubbed it into her skin and made her lick his fingers clean.
Violet froze when her father lay down beside her and covered them both with the duvet. The linen was soft – expensive – and she felt as though she had forgotten how comfortable a mattress could be. If she let herself believe that she would be sleeping next to him, warm and comfortable, only to be sent back downstairs and be chained up on the floor again she would unravel at the seams.
Patrick pulled her close to him, his warm body curving around hers as though he could sense what she was thinking.
“Don't worry, puppy, you've behaved well enough.”