Dark Web Daddy

4

The days blur into each other, a twisted mix of confusion, dread, and something else I can't quite name. My hands are still raw from the cuffs, but he hasn't touched me again since dragging me down here. Not for chopping, anyway. He keeps feeding me, watching me eat in eerie silence. Every bite feels like I'm slipping deeper into a trap I can't escape.

On the third day, the man—he still won't tell me his name—comes to my room. This time, his demeanor is different. He's not cold or threatening like before. There's something... off about him, something unsettling.

"Get up," he orders, though his voice lacks the venom it had before. His eyes linger on me in a way that makes my skin crawl, but not because he looks dangerous—more like he sees me as something to be controlled, like a toy.

I hesitate, but I'm too terrified not to listen. He doesn't bother cuffing me this time, which feels even more dangerous. He trusts I won't run. Maybe he knows I've got nowhere to go.

He takes me to another room, not the kitchen this time, but something that looks like it was ripped straight from a nightmare. There are chains hanging from the ceiling, dark curtains covering the windows, and in the center of it all... a crib. Not like a baby's crib, but one big enough for someone my size.

I freeze. "What the hell is this?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"Don't fight it," he says, his voice calm, almost gentle. "This is your life now. It's better this way."

"My life? You're delusional if you think I'm staying here! You were going to chop me up!" I shout, my voice hoarse from days of fear and stress. But deep down, I know something's changed in his plan. There's something even darker lurking beneath his initial intentions.

He steps closer, eyes locking with mine. "I changed my mind, Amelia. You're too perfect to waste like that. They wanted you in pieces, but I want you whole. You'll stay with me, and you'll do as I say."

I back up, hitting the cold wall behind me. "You're insane. I'm not some... some doll for you to play with!"

But his eyes flash with something sick and possessive. "You don't get it yet, but you will. This isn't about killing anymore. I'll keep you safe. You'll learn to be my good little girl, and if you behave, no harm will come to you."

My stomach drops as I realize what he means. Age regression. BDSM. The crib. The way he's been watching me, controlling me. It's all starting to make sense in the most terrifying way possible.

He motions to the crib, his eyes hardening. "Lie down."

I stand frozen in place, refusing to move, my heart pounding in my chest. "No," I whisper. "I'm not doing this."

In a flash, his hand is around my throat, squeezing just enough to make breathing difficult. His face inches from mine, that calm exterior shattering. "You don't get to say no, Amelia. You belong to me now. Understand?"

I gasp for air, feeling the pressure on my neck, tears welling up in my eyes as I nod weakly. He releases his grip, and I collapse onto the floor, clutching my throat and coughing.

He doesn't say anything as he lifts me off the floor like I weigh nothing, his strong arms wrapping around me as he places me in the crib. I try to fight, but I'm weak, my body betraying me as exhaustion takes over.

As he locks the crib shut, his eyes soften again, like he's satisfied with this twisted version of care. "Good girl," he whispers, before turning away.

I lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the cold bars beneath me. My mind races with how I could escape this, but I don't know how long I have left or what he'll do if I push him too far. All I know is that this is only the beginning. He may not plan to chop me up anymore, but who knows what other horrors he has in store.

As I listen to his footsteps fade down the hall, I realize one thing: I might not survive this unless I figure out how to beat him at his own game.