The General's Little Angel (Breaking Chains© Book 2)

by C. B. Hunt

  Satisfied that I had done as he requested, I was free to enjoy the buffet that consisted of skewered prawns and ‘bugs’ (lobster), cubes of beef, roasted vegetables, and all kinds of pastries. Uncomfortable among the group of strangers who were all much older than I was, I took advantage of the open bar to help me relax. With neither Ray nor Les in sight, there was no one to monitor my intake, and I happily flirted with the male guests and was proudly able to keep up with all the topics of conversation.

  It was quite late when an arm was wrapped around my shoulders. “Hey, sweetheart, are you ready to go back to the hotel? Have you been drinking?” Ray asked with disapproval, noticing that I was slightly inebriated.

  “No Kamikazes. Cross my heart.” I made the gesture and then stumbled into his arms.

  “I told you no more alcohol. Where’s Les?”

  “I dunno. He said he wasn’t feeling well and took off when you brought the food out, remember?”

  “You sit your bottom right here and don’t move an inch while I go find him. Understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I said with a sweet smile.

  “Hey, cutie. Are you okay?” A man who I had spoken with earlier approached me.

  “That’s my dad. He doesn’t like when I drink and is a little overprotective sometimes.” The words slipped out. I was more than just a little inebriated—I was completely shit-faced.

  “I’d be too if you were my daughter. Where did he go?”

  “He’s trying to hunt down our driver. He’s gonna be a while. I think Les is hiding,” I said with a giggle.

  “Would you like to take a little walk and clear your head a bit?”

  “Sure!” I said, hopping up and accepting his arm. We walked along the edge of the grounds and had started towards the dense gardens when I heard my name being shouted. Ray came at a full run in our direction and pulled me away from the stranger.

  “I told you to stay put!”

  “This nice man was just helping me get some fresh. It was no biggie.” I said, wrapping my arms around Ray’s waist and hugging him. “I didn’t know how long you’d be gone. I don’t feel too good.”

  “Excuse us, please. I need to get my girl back to the hotel.” Ray hissed as he tightened his hold around me. The anger in his voice and the fury in his eyes made the stranger quickly scurry away. “Can you walk, or do I need to carry you?”

  “I can walk. Why are you so mad?” I asked innocently.

  “What were you drinking?”

  “Bundaberg Rum and coke. It was sooooo good. I’m tired.”

  “You are in so much trouble right now, young lady. So much trouble.” He led me to the driveway where cabs waited to take guests back to their hotels. “Get in the car.”

  “Did you find Les?” It was difficult getting the words out, and my head started feeling heavier than before. I crawled into the back seat and slowly curled into a ball.

  “He wasn’t feeling well and went back to the hotel,” Ray muttered, sliding in next to me. He gave the driver the address and then stared out the window without another sound. That was when I realized exactly how much trouble I was in.

  His fingers dug into my upper arm as he led me up to the suite, pushed me into the room, and then left to check on Les. I collapsed on the nearest bed and covered my head with a pillow, wishing that the room would stop spinning. Several minutes later, he returned and sat on the bed next to me.

  “I’m going to make you a bath and get some water into you. Tomorrow is not going to be a pleasant day.”

  “I need my Daddy. Hold me.” The words left my mouth without thinking twice. It’s amazing how alcohol can break down the inhibitions as well as make you stupid-sick.

  He scooped me into his arms and rocked me. “I suspect that you are going to be feeling a lot worse pretty soon. That rum has a hard kick, and I’m sure you had more than you should have. I’ll be right back. I’m going to start a bath and get you some ice,” he said, patting my back.

  Once he returned, he didn’t leave my side. As soon as we entered the bathroom, I started to heave. He held my hair back until there was nothing left in my stomach, keeping a cold washcloth on my forehead the entire time. Once I was able to breathe again, he undressed me and put me into the tub. A glass of cold water was held to my lips every time I was able to lift up my head, and then he washed my hair, running his fingers through to detangle it.

  “Are you ready to get out?” he asked as I started to shiver.

  “I’m dying, and I’m naked.”

  “You’re not dying, and I don’t care if you’re naked. Stand up. Slowly, now,” he urged. He wrapped a towel around me and then carried me into the bedroom and tucked me into the bed where he blow-dried my hair as I hid my face in the pillow. After he had finished, he laid down on top of the blankets and wrapped his arm around me.

  “Daddy?”

  “What, Baby?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that stuff was so strong.”

  “We’ll talk about that once you’re feeling better. Try to sleep.”

  “Are you mad at me?” There was nothing grown-up left in me. I was sick to my stomach, intoxicated, naked under the covers, and held firmly against a man who I knew was going to blister my butt. My future was bleak, and I had nowhere to go but to regress.

  “No.”

  “Please talk to me. When you don’t, it makes me feel like you hate me. I need you to talk to me.” I begged for the sound of his voice and the reassurance that he wouldn’t kick me to the curb like everyone else did.

  “I’m just very disappointed. You also scared the hell out of me. That idiot knew you were drunk and was taking you away from the party so he could take advantage of you. One of the guests came over and warned me about him and said she had seen him talking to you.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “That is what I keep trying to explain to you. You are too naïve about the things in this world. There are people who won’t think twice about hurting you.”

  “You won’t, will you?”

  “Never. You have my word. Now go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

  “Do I have to go to another meeting?”

  “You are never going to be allowed to leave my sight again. You are on indefinite restriction. You may consider me your warden when I’m not your daddy.”

  “I’m up shit creek, aren’t I?”

  “You’re stuck in white water rapids, my dear, and the only paddle you will see is the one that will be used on your backside.”

  My response was a defeated groan.

  ***

  My clothes were laid out, and a tray with coffee, tomato juice, pastries, and aspirin was waiting for me when I woke up the following morning. A note was propped on the coffee cup stating that Ray had gone for a run and that I was to be up and ready to leave by ten. Begrudgingly, I dressed and sipped the beverage while barely rising from the bed.

  “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

  I looked up at Ray’s face and grimaced. “Did you get the license plate of the truck that hit me?”

  “Nope. I’m glad to see you got yourself dressed. I’m going to take a shower, and then I’ll fix your hair. Try to eat something.”

  He was quiet as he brushed the knots out and then pulled it into a French braid. I took a deep breath as I tried to find words for my thoughts. “Am I the only one who is feeling weird here?”

  “I’m not uncomfortable at all. What’s bothering you?”

  “I’m fighting this need and don’t know how to give into it. How do I let go?”

  “You let go last night. I was your daddy in every aspect, and you had no problems.”

  “That’s because I was shit-faced. I felt safe and cared for, even though I was tossing my cookies. You took care of me so well. No one has ever done that before.”

  “That’s what I promised to do and please watch your language,” he said softly, stroking my cheek. “I’d rather take care of you a
nd make you smile than make you cry. Don’t think for a minute that I am looking forward to having to punish you for last night.”

  “I think my misery is punishment enough.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you think. You broke the rules about drinking and also put yourself in danger by not listening to me. There was no excuse for it.”

  “I was bored.”

  “Do you expect me to buy that as an excuse?”

  “No, but it didn’t hurt to try, did it? My head feels like it’s going to fall off my neck.”

  “You’ll be better by the end of the day. Our flight leaves at 1800, and we have the long weekend to deal with this.”

  “The weekend?”

  “Yes and you’re going to need it. Let’s get going. Les is staying here. He’s got a nasty cold, so I’m having him rest. I also think that you can spend your time at the meeting writing lines.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. As soon as it starts, you will write ‘Daddy wants the best for me, and I will be a good girl and obey him.’ You will not stop until I tell you to pack up and go.”

  “But that could take hours.”

  “Yes, it certainly might. I have one more request. I want you to call me Daddy unless we are in a situation when it would cause either of us problems. That means ‘sir’ is reserved for when you are in uniform. Understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” The words still sounded strange on my lips, but I knew I would grow used to them.

  “Good girl. Let’s go.”

  My stomach did flip flops as I followed him out of the room and downstairs to get a cab. I kept my eyes on the table throughout the conference and wrote the stupid lines. Thankfully, there were only a few people present who had attended the party, and none of them had known that I had over-indulged. I considered reminding the ‘warden’ that at least I didn’t get on the tables to dance this time but wisely kept my mouth shut for once.

  I drained two ink pens, and my hand was completely cramped by the time the meeting was over. Ray snapped his fingers for the papers with my lines, glanced briefly over them, and then slipped them into his briefcase. After receiving multiple praises about how attentive his little secretary was in her note-taking, he said his goodbyes, and we headed back to the hotel.

  “I’m going to see how Les is doing,” Ray announced. “Go stand in the corner and wait for me until I get back.”

  “But …”

  “One more word and you can do it with your pants down.”

  I bit my tongue and headed to the corner. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but I knew not to push my luck at this point. The sound of my watch ticking on my wrist annoyed the hell out of me. I had never noticed that it made any noise before, but then again, I was holding my breath and listening for the telltale footsteps of Ray returning to our room. The beeping of the electronic key announced his entrance.

  “You may come out of there for now. I want to grab something to eat and then pack. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I answered quietly.

  “What did you say?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good girl. Come here.” I hesitantly stood in front of him. He kissed my forehead and then held my hands. “Just because I’m not happy with your behavior doesn’t mean that I love you any less. You belong to me until the day you decide otherwise.”

  “Truth?”

  “Truth. Pinky swear.” He held up his pinky to lock with mine. I giggled, finding it funny that such a powerful man was so comfortable in performing the gesture.

  Chapter 7

  Les had the flu. I know it sounds rather mean, but I was relieved to know that he was sick and not just trying to get out of eating the grubs. It also meant that he wouldn’t be stopping by the house that weekend. It was late by the time we got home, and I was sent to my room to unpack and get changed into my pajamas and then instructed to come back to the main house.

  A cup of hot cocoa was waiting for me on the kitchen table. As I sipped it, Ray informed me of my fate.

  “It’s time we got serious about both the drinking and the disobedience. I know you aren’t an alcoholic, but you have no limits if you aren’t supervised. I don’t think you understand the potential for danger that you put yourself in.”

  “Okay, I agree that I’m a little naïve about how some people can be. I also didn’t know how strong that rum was and shouldn’t have even tried it without asking you first. I learned my lesson and promised that I won’t ever do it again.” I stayed calm and attempted to appear mature, trying one last time to plead my case with the hope that if I agreed, rather than argued, he would reconsider. Not.

  “I wish you would have come to that realization earlier. I will deal with the severe portion of your punishment tomorrow since we are both tired. There will be no arguing or fighting me, or things will be much worse. You will also be going to bed every night with a sore bottom for this next week.”

  “What?” I choked on my cocoa.

  “I didn’t stutter. I intend for you to remember this lesson for a while. Your bedtime will be at 2100 every night, and you will come and get me.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “You’re right. Instead of going to bed at nine, let’s make it eight-thirty.”

  “Ray!”

  “Would you like to go for eight o’clock?”

  I was losing this battle. “Yes, Daddy. Nine o’clock is bedtime, and I will come and get you.”

  “You blew it for nine. It will be eight-thirty. You are also grounded to the house for two weeks. That means that the only company you will have is me, like it or not. No computer, telephone, television, or video games. No pouting either.”

  “This isn’t fair.”

  “Must we go through this again?” he asked, hands on his hips.

  “No, sir.” How did I get into this mess?

  “Good. Let’s get this over with.” He reached out his hand and waited for my reluctant response. My mouth went dry as he produced a ping pong paddle from his dresser drawer. It was brand new—meaning that he bought it specifically with my bottom in mind.

  “I will give you this one choice. You can place your hands on the edge of the bed or go over my knee. Which will it be?”

  My preference would have been neither, but he was not going to accept that. I considered the options thoughtfully. An over the knee spanking was more humiliating but had less leverage and, therefore, less swing power. It also allowed him to hold me in place which I would never do on my own.

  “The second, I suppose,” I whispered.

  “Say it.”

  “Over your knee.” Could this be any more humiliating? Of course, it could. As soon as he pulled me over his lap, my pajama pants where yanked down to my thighs. I shrieked out my protests, but it did nothing to stop him as he pronounced sentence.

  “Ten swats. Start counting.”

  My relief at hearing the number ‘ten’ ended the moment the paddle cracked across my backside the first time. I squealed and twisted to look at him with stunned disbelief. It hurt!

  “I didn’t hear you. Should I start again?”

  “One! Please, no more. Ow! Two!” At four, I was kicking and trying to crawl away. At six, the tears came with pants for breath, and at ten, all I could do was arch my back and yowl. When he finished, he wiped my face with a tissue, took my hand, and walked me to my quarters. After tucking me into bed and kissing me goodnight, he left without saying a word.

  My bottom burned something awful—and that was only after ten with a paddle. I dreaded the coming day, but I was bothered even more by his distance. Needless to say, I slept very little that night. The more I thought about it, the more agitated I became. The need to hurt myself returned, and I didn’t think twice about giving into the impulse.

  ***

  “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked me when I joined him in the kitchen.

  “It hurt.”

  “Of course, it did.” He sipped his coffee. “Wh
at else?”

  “I don’t know what you’re asking me.” I couldn’t look at him in the eye.

  “Find your voice.”

  The words weren’t there for me to speak. “I don’t have a voice.”

  He studied me for a moment and then stood up. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

  Was he going for the paddle again? Rubbing my sweaty hands on my jeans, my fear began to take over. Anxiety pulsed through me in waves, and my breathing grew short. By the time he returned, I was in a full panic attack.

  “What’s going on? Breathe … Breanna, look at me! Breathe!” he ordered, forcing me to meet his eyes. He coached me through the moment until I calmed down and then sat next to me. “What triggered that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe not knowing what you were doing.”

  “I went to get some paper and a pen. I wanted to try something.” He placed the notebook in front of me. “When I was in college, my psych professor told us that many people who were abused and forced into silence were able to express their thoughts and needs in writing. Write me a letter. Tell me how you felt about last night and this morning, and don’t be afraid of being honest with me. These are your words. Let them be heard.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this. I used to write a lot when I was younger to escape, but it sucked.”

  “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to help you find your voice in any way you can. Be someone else if it helps, but give it a try. Go outside in the garden and take your time.”

  Surrounded by flowers and the little koi pond with a fountain, I tried to gather what I would say. The minute the pen hit the page, I felt my mind slip back to when I was five.

  Dear Daddy,

  I’m sorry I failed you. That’s all I seem to do to the people who I care for without even knowing it. I lied to you. I drank because I wanted to disappear at the party. I don’t like being around people I don’t know—it scares me. When I was little, my parents had parties like that and bad things always happened to me. They said it was my fault, that if I hadn’t been born, then they wouldn’t have had to find ways to get rid of me, and that my only value was when I was used by people at those parties. I told you about this already, but what I didn’t tell you was that I wanted to be hurt so that I could go away. You know, the way I can disappear from myself.