Without answering her, I lead her over to the tub, which has been filling with water since before I woke her this morning. It’s large and deep, but it’s nearly full now so I strip her onesie from her and help her into the warm water.
She doesn’t sink into the lavender-scented bath the way I’d hoped, but instead sits with her knees pulled up to her chest.
Poor Little girl. Shucking off my jacket, I roll my sleeves to my elbows and kneel beside the tub. “Would you like something to play with, little doll?”
“No. I want to gohome.”
“This is your home, Isabella.”
“No!” Lifting her head, she glares at me, and despite the fierce expression on her face I can’t help but think how absolutely adorable she looks with her cheeks flushed red and her lip pushed out in a pronounced pout. “I want to go back tomyhome. My apartment. In New York. I have a job and the ballet and-and-and?—”
She won’t ever be returning to New York. But again I’m worried that knowledge might be her breaking point, so I reach into the toy box beside the tub and examine the selections. Maxwell’s Little girl, Victoria, has a preference for mermaids. Perhaps Isabella would like those as well.
Pulling three from the box, along with the pirate ship Victoria insists all mermaids need, I drop them in the tub in front of Isabella.
But instead of playing with them, she shoves the mermaids and the ship away from her, the action causing a large enough wave that it soaks through my carefully pressed white dress shirt.
And then the little brat has the nerve to laugh.
Her sweet, high giggles fill the room, and I’m almost tempted to laugh along with her. But that would be setting a poor example for my Little one, so instead I fix her with a stern glare. “That was very naughty, Isabella. If you splash Daddy again, I’ll have to punish you.”
Tilting her head to the side, Isabella studies me. Again, it's as though I can actually see the wheels turning in her mind as she weighs whether it’s worth the risk.
I watch, my eyes narrowing as she cups her hand in the water, and sends another large wave straight at me.
Closing my eyes, I wipe at the water dripping down my face. “All right, little girl. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
ChapterThree
Isabella
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Why the hell did I do that? I’d convinced myself that if I just went along with this madman, if I just did what he asked of me, maybe I’d be safe.
Instead, I’ve done the exact opposite. And now he’s looking at me in the way I imagine a lion watches its prey, with a combination of deadly intent and pure glee.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. This time I don’t even have to pull on my stage training to conjure them. With the sheer terror gripping me, the tears come all on their own as I do my best to squeeze myself into the corner of the tub, away from his reach.
But of course, there’s no escape. The man I only know as “Daddy” reaches for me, strong fingers wrapping around my arm a second before he hauls me up out of the water, bending me over the side of the tub, the cold porcelain pressing into my stomach.
That bit of discomfort is the least of my worries, as I soon discover. Daddy rubs his hand over my bare ass, and I tremble at the intimate touch. It seems like only a matter of time before he violates me in some way but I'm hoping to delay that fate as long as possible. Long enough, if I'm incredibly lucky, for me to find an escape before he does anything too awful.
I'm not feeling very lucky.
“My naughty little doll,” Daddy says with a sigh. “I had hoped you would make it at least a few hours before needing to have your bottom warmed. But you chose to be naughty and splash Daddy with water, instead.”
“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise!” I would promise to stand on my head and recite all fifty states and their capitals if it meant escaping whatever punishment he has in mind.
“Little girls always make promises they can’t keep when they’re about to get a spanking,” he says with a low chuckle that sends shivers up my spine.
He raises his hand, only to bring it down again with so much force the pain radiates across my bare skin. And he doesn’t give me even a second to breathe, to process what’s just happened before he strikes the opposite cheek.
A spanking. I am at the mercy of a madman, in some undisclosed location, getting my bottom spanked like a misbehaving child. Why that’s more humiliating than waking up in a onesie and a diaper, I don’t know, but the embarrassment is almost more than I can bear.
It’s certainly enough to strip whatever dignity I might still have from me and reduce me to a crying, begging mess. “Daddy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t spank me anymore!”
To my complete shock, the spanking stops there, with his heavy hand resting on my scorched flesh. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, Isabella?”
