Page 4
Chapter Three
Evander
Eyes wide, Natalie jerks her head up, her mouth falling open in a perfect O. With a shocked squeak, she leaps to her feet, once again surprising me with how athletic she is.
I let her run, following behind at a steady pace, fast enough to keep track of her crashing footsteps as she races through the forest, but not so fast as to run out of energy myself. She’ll tire far sooner than I do, and when she does, I will be there, ready and waiting to claim her.
How much does she know about the island? That is one question I haven’t been able to answer no matter how close an eye I’ve kept on her. Does she know exactly what we do with the women we bring here? Or does she just have some vague idea that something is happening?
I hope it’s the latter. There is nothing sweeter than that moment of realization on a woman’s face when she first understands what it really means to be Daddy’s Little girl. I would be very sad indeed if my little kitten’s research robbed me of that moment.
Silence once more settles in the forest, telling me she’s stopped again, likely to catch her breath. Pausing in the shadows cast by the tall, thick trees, I close my eyes.
And listen.
The silence is nearly perfect, as if all the animals within hearing distance have recognized me as the predator I am and are desperately trying to keep their locations a secret from me. Of course, I mean them no harm, but they don’t know that.
A sound to my left grabs my attention and I tilt my head, every instinct I have working to pinpoint the source. And then it comes again, a hitch of breath, as though my little kitten is trying to breathe deeply but quietly.
She almost succeeded.
Carefully, I step toward the sound, my footsteps silent on the forest floor. A man in my position doesn’t live very long without learning how to move silently through any terrain.
After a few steps, I pause again, patiently waiting, listening.
There. Directly in front of me. Another hitching breath, a flash of blue as she shifts, momentarily revealing her hiding place behind yet another oversized tree.
I take a few more steps, until I’m right behind the tree, before I speak again. “Found you, little kitten.”
If I’d been anyone else, I might have been too slow to catch the large branch that comes swinging my way a second later. But a lifetime of well-honed instincts serve me well and I manage to wrap my hand around the thick wood, stopping the downward motion seconds before it crashes into my skull.
Pain stings my palm, but it’s nothing compared to what my little kitten is going to feel across her bottom in just a moment. Locking my eyes with her wide-eyed, terrified stare, I yank the branch from her hand and toss it to the side.
“That was very, very naughty, little one.”
She turns to run, but my patience with our game has officially run out and I leap forward, wrapping my arm around her waist and hoisting her up, her feet kicking out as she screams into the forest.
“Help! Someone help me! Please!”
“You can scream all you want, little one. Even if anyone could hear you, they would never interfere with a Daddy’s discipline.”
One small foot connects with my shin and I just manage not to react as pain shoots up my leg.
Enough playing. It’s time my Little girl learns her first lesson about life with her new Daddy.
Reaching up, I snap a thin branch free from a tree, holding it between my teeth so I can have both hands free to deal with my naughty little reporter. She fights me with everything she has, arms and legs swinging as I unfasten the straps of her overalls and wrestle them down to her knees.
“Let go of me, you bastard!”
The moment we get home, I am going to wash that filthy mouth of hers out with soap. But that will have to wait until I’ve gotten her a bit more under control.
Gripping both her wrists in one hand, I pin her to a tree with my body, holding her in place as I retrieve the thin branch still clamped between my teeth.
When I'm certain I have a good hold on her, I shift to the side, giving myself a moment to admire the picture she makes in nothing but a t-shirt and panties with her overalls bunched around her knees. A naughty Little girl, waiting for her Daddy’s discipline.
I whip the branch through the air, testing it, and I smile to myself at the sound it makes. No doubt this is going to be a painful lesson for my little kitten.
When I bring the branch down again, it slices across her round bottom, and she goes still for a moment before her pained scream echoes through the forest.
“What the fuck was that?” She tries to twist her head around, to see what’s happening, but with how she’s pinned against the tree she can’t move her neck very fair either direction.
“Your punishment for running,” I explain calmly as I whip the thin wood across her bottom again. On either side of her white panties, thin red lines are now visible, and the only regret I have is that I didn’t bare her completely so I could watch the welts raise across her bottom.
Ah, well. I’m sure I will have no shortage of excuses to punish my little kitten, and the forest is full of switches waiting to be picked.
Her howls of pain as the branch connects with her panty-covered bottom over and over again are still music to my ears. Even her constant swearing amuses me, though it isn’t something I will tolerate once I get her back to the house.
“Let me go, you sadistic sonofabitch! Ow! Motherfucker !”
Tightening my hold on her wrists, I lean more of my weight on them, ensuring the bark of the tree bites into her skin and earning myself a hiss of pain in response.
“The sooner you stop fighting me, the sooner your punishment ends, little kitten.”
“Fuck you.”
There’s a hitch to her voice that tells me she’s close to breaking, so I pick up the pace, switching her faster, harder than before. Her bottom and the tops of her thighs are covered in small red welts, but she hangs on far longer than I would have expected before she slumps forward with a sob.
“P-please. Please, stop.”
All of the vitriol has left her voice, leaving her sounding so young and sweet I can’t help but take pity on her. Dropping the switch to the ground, I scoop her up in my arms and head for the edge of the forest.
“Poor little kitten,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her sweat-soaked hair. “Go ahead and cry. Daddy’s got you.”
Her arms are wrapped around my neck, and her head rests on my shoulder as she sobs. “W-wanna g-go home.”
She means back to New York, but I don’t have the heart to tell her she’ll never see her hometown again, so I press another kiss to her head. “We’ll be home soon, little kitten.”
A car waits for us at the edge of the woods. Nicholas, my driver and one of my oldest friends, jumps from the front seat and races to the back door, his expression one of concern tinged with longing. “Is she injured?”
“No,” I assure him with a quiet chuckle. “Sitting won’t be very comfortable for her, I’m afraid, but she isn’t hurt.”
“Ah.” The worry clears from his eyes, replaced by amusement. “There’s a bottle of milk in the fridge. Cat sent it over fresh this morning.”
“Bless her.” Catharina Montgomery, my “sister” in this strange family we’ve built here on the island, has been producing milk for months. One day, she’ll have a Little one of her own to nurse, but for now she delights in providing for her nieces.
Taking care not to bump Natalie’s head, I slip into the backseat of the car, juggling her in my arms as I open the small fridge to retrieve the bottle.
My Little one is still clinging to me, dried tear tracks on her flushed cheeks as she whimpers and presses her face more firmly against my shoulder.
“Would you like a treat, kitten?” I coax quietly. “Your Auntie Cat made it special for you this morning.”
Sniffling, she turns her head slightly, prying open her red-rimmed eyes and looking around. “Where are we?”
“In my car, on our way home.”
“Your home, you mean.” She winces as she shifts on my lap, no doubt feeling every one of the welts covering her bottom as she moves. And when her gaze latches on mine again, her eyes are clear, as shrewd as ever. “You’re Evander Hawthorne.”
“And you are a very clever little kitten.” I keep my tone even, giving away no hint as to the barrage of questions suddenly running through my brain.
How does she know my name? Does she know who else lives on the island? Just how far down the rabbit hole has she fallen with all her research?
But then she reaches up, gentle fingers tracing the deep, ragged scar that runs down the side of my face. “I’ve heard of you,” she whispers, but it isn’t fear I hear in her voice.
It almost sounds like… awe.
My heart gives a painful lurch in my chest. “Have you, now?”
“Duh. Everyone in the city knows your name. And the story of how you got that scar. A knife fight over some silly territory dispute, if I remember correctly.”
She does. At least, she correctly remembers the story I want everyone to know. The truth would shed light on things I prefer to keep buried, so letting everyone think some punk got the drop on me is a small price to pay for keeping those secrets where they belong. In the deep, deep dark.
Lifting the bottle to her mouth, as much to distract her from my scar as anything else, I nudge her lips apart. “Open, kitten. You need to rehydrate after all that running.”
Her nose wrinkles, making her look even more like her nickname. “Is that a bottle?”
“It is.”
“What’s in it?”
Such an inquisitive little thing. I’m not a man used to being questioned, but I suppose I can indulge her quest for knowledge.
There will come a time when I will expect her immediate obedience, but for now it’s understandable that she has questions.
“Milk. It’s perfectly safe and not drugged, if that’s what you’re worried about. ”
The look she gives me is the absolute definition of withering. “You just chased me off a boat, stripped me half naked in the middle of a forest, and whipped me with a tree branch. I think some suspicion on my part is warranted.”
“Fair enough,” I reply with a laugh. “But if you hadn’t run, none of that would have happened.”
“Can you really blame me? I was scared.”
“I suppose not. The fact remains, however, that you were very naughty. And when Little girls are naughty, they get spanked.”
“But I’m not?—”
Taking advantage of her mouth opening so she can continue arguing, I push the nipple between her lips. As if by instinct, she immediately sucks on the tip, then glares up at me accusingly.
“Sorry, kitten. But you need to drink something and if I let you keep talking, you might never finish your bottle. When it’s empty, you can continue your interrogation.”
She rolls her eyes upward, but continues sucking, so I count it as a win. Obviously, I’m going to have my hands full with my naughty little kitten.
I cannot wait to see what it takes to tame her.