Chapter 2
DANE
I’ll admit I’m a bit disappointed by how easily she gave in. I really was expecting more of a fight from my little fox.
Maybe it’s just the shock of having been caught. Perhaps once she’s had some time to recover she’ll run again.
I really want her to run again.
Whatever the reason, she hangs limp in my grasp the whole way back up to the house. Throwing open the front door, I head for the living room where most of my family is gathered.
“Who wants to throw a wedding?”
“A what?” The previously silent bundle hanging over my shoulder comes alive, her voice rising to a screech as she struggles against my hold. “Put me down, you fucking psycho!”
Reaching up, I swat her upturned ass and wink at my wide-eyed family. “As proposals go, I suppose that one could use some work. But that’s no excuse to swear at your Daddy, little girl.”
“You are not my Daddy, you’re just some crazy-ass lumberjack who kidnapped me!”
Before I can chastise my little fox again, Josie pops up from her seat, her eyes narrowed. “Wait. I know that voice. Vanessa?”
Vanessa. What a cute name for my little fox.
“Marjorie!” My cargo fights even harder to escape. “Tell this asshole to put me down!”
Hands on her hips, Josie glares up at me. “Uncle Dane! Put my friend down right now!”
“Josephine Elise.” Coming up behind his babygirl, my brother Bram swats her bottom twice. I doubt it hurts since she’s wearing a thick cotton diaper beneath all those layers of tulle and lace, but Josie yelps and rubs at her bottom anyway. “Is that how you ask for something, little girl?”
“But Daddy, he—” Two more swats cut off Josie’s protests and she puffs her bottom lip out in a pout. “Fine. Uncle Dane, will you please put my friend down?”
“Well, you did ask very nicely.” And I’ll need to put her down for the wedding ceremony anyway. So I lean forward, depositing my little fox on her feet.
The second I let go, she scurries toward Josie, throwing her arms around my niece’s neck. “Oh my god. I’ve been so fucking worried about you!”
Leaning down, I pop my Little girl’s bottom again. “One more naughty word out of you and Daddy is going to wash your mouth out with soap, little girl.”
Vanessa spins around to glare up at me with all the ferocity of a wolf staring down another predator. “You. Are. Not. My. Daddy.”
“Agree to disagree, little fox.”
Before she can argue further, Josie slaps a hand over Vanessa’s mouth. “You should probably just… stop talking, Vanessa. Seriously. It’s for your own good.”
Gripping Josie’s hand, Vanessa pulls it away from her mouth, turning again to face her friend. “We have to go. I’m getting you out of here.”
But when she tries to pull Josie with her, presumably toward the front door, Josie plants her feet. “I’m not going anywhere, Vanessa.”
“What?” The color drains from my little fox’s face. “Fuck. They really got to you, didn’t they? What did they do to you, Josie?”
Sighing more for dramatic effect than out of any real disappointment, I bend and scoop my naughty babygirl up over my shoulder. “We’ll be back. Gray, if you could start getting things ready for the ceremony, I would appreciate it.”
Small fists pummel at my back while my sister chuckles and shakes her head. “Let me go! I’ll fucking kill you!”
If words alone could slice a man open, I have no doubt she’d succeed. Unfortunately for her, those fierce words are only going to get her mouth washed out with soap and her bottom paddled with her Auntie Gray’s hairbrush. As she is soon to find out.
She keeps up her fight all the way to the bathroom, where I sit her on top of the vanity, leaning in so our noses are nearly touching. Sucking in a breath, she meets my eyes with a boldness that has my cock twitching in my pants. “Behave.”
Fury burns hot in bright-green eyes. Her eyes, like the rest of her face, remind me of a fox, hence my chosen nickname for her. Sharp, angular features, vaguely feline but with the ferociousness of a wolf.
She’s absolutely stunning. And all mine.
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, you absolutely will, little fox. As soon as we say our vows.”
Terror flits across her face. Only for a moment before the anger comes rushing back to smother it, but that glimpse is all I need to nearly embarrass myself right in my pants. “I am not marrying you.”
“Agree to disagree,” I repeat cheerfully as I grab her ankles in one hand and crouch down to open the cabinet beneath the sink with the other.
She struggles against my hold, but she can’t risk jumping off the counter without seriously injuring herself, so I let her wiggle and fight while I locate one of the mini bars of soap our friend Maxwell sent us for exactly this purpose.
Grabbing one bar, I rise to my feet again.
I have to release my hold on her ankles to unwrap the soap, and as soon as I do, she seizes the moment, jumping down from the vanity and rushing toward the bathroom door.
Without pausing what I’m doing, I lift one booted foot and press it against the wood, holding it closed with ease while she yanks futilely at the doorknob.
Once the soap is unwrapped, I flip the faucet on and run the white bar beneath the stream, making sure to get it nice and sudsy.
“Vanessa. Come here, please.”
Just because I’m her Daddy doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use my manners.
“No!” Spinning around, she presses her back against the door, her expression bordering on feral as she bares her teeth. “Stay the fuck away from me!”
Naughty Little girl. I could—and probably will—force her, but I want to give her a chance to prove she can do as she’s told first, so I set the soap in its dish and turn to face her, doing my best to look stern.
“Vanessa Marie. Come here or Daddy will have to punish you for not listening on top of using those naughty words.”
My little fox goes still, a frown tugging at her lips. “That’s not my middle name.”
How adorable is it that she’s focusing on me calling her by the wrong name rather than how much trouble she’s in? “I took a shot in the dark,” I explain with a shrug. “You can tell me your real middle name after your punishment.”
“I’m not telling you shit.”
“Have it your way.” Hooking my hands beneath her armpits, I lift her back onto the vanity while she resumes kicking and fighting me with everything she’s got.
It occurs to me then that if I try to simply shove the bar of soap in her mouth, she’s likely to choke on it with as hard as she’s fighting.
My friend Evander has a very specific method for washing his Little girl’s mouth out, but I’m leery of getting my dick anywhere near my little fox’s teeth at the moment.
Sighing quietly, I wrap my right hand around her throat, squeezing until she goes still. “Stop.”
A quiet whimper escapes her before she rolls her lips together to smother it.
She doesn’t answer, but she also doesn’t resume fighting, so I take that as all the acquiescence I’m going to get for the time being.
With my hand still wrapped around her neck, I grab the bar of soap in my left hand and lather my fingers as much as I’m able.
Shifting my hold to her face, I squeeze her cheeks until she’s forced to open her mouth nice and wide. I hold up my soap-covered digits and meet her terrified gaze.
“If you bite me, I will bend you over this sink and whip your bare bottom with my belt. Blink twice if you understand me.”
It takes several long seconds, but eventually she gives me two slow blinks.
“Good girl. Daddy’s going to get that mouth nice and clean now.”
Vanessa
Horror and confusion grip me in equal measure as my captor lifts three soap-covered fingers to my lips. Surely he can’t mean to—
Before I can even finish that thought, he pushes his fingers into my mouth. The acrid taste of soap coats my tongue and I instinctively gag, jerking my head back to try and escape this horrific punishment. But his hold on me is too strong, and I am unable to shake myself free of him.
If he hadn’t already warned me about what would happen if I bit him, I would bite down with everything I have. I read once that human fingers aren’t any more difficult to bite through than a carrot, but we have a self-preservation mechanism in place that prevents us from doing so.
Surely that mechanism would be switched off at a time like this.
But I really, really do not want to risk being whipped with the thick belt circling his waist, so I resist the urge to clamp down on his fingers with my teeth.
Just barely, but I resist.
As I sit there, frozen, my brain scrambling desperately for some other form of escape, he begins to move his fingers.
In and out of my mouth, an obscene mimicry of sex that has saliva and soap spilling from the corners of my lips, adding a healthy dose of humiliation to an already unspeakable situation.
Dark-brown eyes meet mine, and if I were a writer like Marjorie I might say they were devoid of anything that makes us human.
There’s a madness there, though not the frantic kind you often see depicted in media.
What’s in him is calm, almost detached, and that chills me to the bone more than any murderous fury ever could.
“Little girls do not use grown-up words,” he lectures as he scrubs the inside of my mouth with his fingers. “Every time you use one, Daddy will punish your naughty mouth. It’s Daddy’s job to make sure you’re a polite, well-behaved Little girl.”
Daddy. He’s been calling himself that ever since he captured me. It’s also what Marjorie called her captor, the one who spanked her for not asking this monster to put me down “politely”.
Maybe they’re a cult. Maybe it’s something in the water.
Or maybe they’re all just fucking crazy.
It feels like forever before my crazy-ass abductor pulls his fingers free of my mouth. Still holding my face in his iron-like grip, he rinses his hand of the lingering soap residue before filling up a cup and handing it to me.
“Rinse and spit. In the sink,” he adds with a stern glare. “Otherwise you can spend the rest of the day tasting soap.”
With a show of reluctance, I take the cup so I can fill my mouth with water.
And spit it right in his face.