Parts I
Ana stretched her limbs for the first time in several hours. The drive from
the airport had been long and tedious, and there had been no stops. As she
worked the cramps from her tired body, she looked up at what must be her
new home. She blinked, and glanced at her welfare officers, themselves just
emerging from the car, for affirmation. Mrs. Johnson smiled at her.
"That's the one, dear." It wasn't a house. It was a mansion, complete with
gables and turrets and a wrought-iron gate. Ana thought privately that it
looked somewhat like a fortress. She sighed. This had not exactly been what
she'd expected.
Ana Jameson had, until now, lived with her mother in Chicago. When her
mother had died two weeks before, of a rapidly encroaching cancer the doctors
were powerless to stop, the welfare officials had searched desperately for any
living family member. Her mother had been an only child, and her
grandparents were long gone. The only lead the welfare agency had to go by
was the name of her father, written on her birth certificate. Ana had never had
contact with her father, even to the extent of knowing his name. Her mother
had never said a word about him; who he was, where they'd met, or where he
was now. Assuming she had even known, that is.
Upon contacting him, the welfare officials were not surprised to find that
he had previously been unaware he had a daughter at all. They were more
surprised, however, to hear him agree to take her in. And so for Ana it was a
long drive with the ever-somber Miss Johnson and Mr. Davis to southern
Kentucky.
She hadn't expected to find a luxuriant mansion of this sort located in
Kentucky, but here it was before her, large as life. She half-expected there to
be a moat or a lonely princess locked in a turret. She shook her head; there was
even a cold draft blowing down off the hill. It was all a little too Gothic.
Pulling her sweater tighter around her with one arm, she bent to pick up her
suitcase. Miss Johnson and Mr. Davis shared a glance, and then smiled
brightly at Ana.
"Well, here we are. Ready, sweetie?" Ana grimaced. On top of her
mother's recent death and her being shipped off to the boondocks to live with a
man she'd never seen before in her life, she had to contend with her social
welfare officers, who did not appear to be interested so much in her social
welfare as getting her off their hands as quickly as possible. But, she
supposed, at least her father seemed to be wealthy enough. Perhaps things
wouldn't be so bad. The shivering 16-year-old strode ahead of her guardians
and walked purposefully toward the front door of the mansion. Miss Johnson
and Mr. Davis shared another glance, this time a bit more worried.
"Do you think we should tell her?"
"What, about the rumors? They're rumors. Unsubstantiated rumors. And
besides, he's the girl's father. What else could we do?"
"Well, I know.. it's just that the stories we've heard from the locals.."
"A lonely recluse, wealthy, with a bit of a taste for the extreme in his
sexual life. So what? It's a free country, he's not hurting anybody, the last time
anybody saw him in town _anyway_ was over a year ago, and she's his
daughter, so at any rate they won't be having sex. Happy?"
"I suppose." In the meantime, Ana had rung the doorbell, with some
trepidation. Half a minute later, the door opened, causing her to involuntarily
gasp in surprise. Embarrassed, she smiled at the man standing in the doorway
and introduced herself.
"Hello, sir.. I'm Ana Jameson." Paul Andrews stared at the girl on his
doorstep. His gaze was imperious, and he turned its full weight to bear on
Ana.
"You're to live with me, I suppose. Come in, then." Ana turned to her
welfare workers for support, but they only shook her hand, each in turn, told
her they wished her the best of luck, and headed back to the car. Ana watched
their car drive away, feeling lost and alone, and slowly followed her father
indoors. Once inside, her father led her through the house to her room. He
pointed out the kitchen and bathrooms along the way, as well as his wing of
the house and the living rooms and such. All of this was done in a
commanding voice, bearing no interruption or comment. Ana had a sinking
feeling in her stomach.
Finally, after what seemed a mile, Paul opened the door to Ana's new
room. It was simple compared with the rest of the house, with only a bed, a
dresser, and a desk. She set her suitcase on the floor and turned to face her
father. For a long moment, each sized the other up. Paul saw a young, fairly
attractive girl, with long straight hair, bearing a vague resemblance to himself.
He noted that she was tallish, and had strong legs. Ana, on the other hand, saw
a black-clad, dark-haired man, wearing wire-rim glasses, also tall, and well-
built, with a stern face.
"Come with me." Ana followed the abrupt command, trailing her father
down the stairs into a living room. He indicated to her to sit down opposite
him, in one of the high-backed chairs. "Your name is Ana. Mine is Paul,
although I will expect you to address me differently. We'll get to that in a
moment. First, let me make something perfectly clear to you. I bore no
sentiment for your mother. She was a mistake that I made almost 17 years ago,
and I'd nearly forgotten about her." Ana blinked hard. Her mother's death was
still fresh in her mind, and she missed her terribly. She had to hold back tears
at these harsh words. Paul, appearing not to notice, continued.
"I have certain expectations about how my house will be run. When I am
working in my study, you will not disturb me. Nor will you speak to me unless
you are either addressed, or have a specific question to ask me. You will keep
your room clean, and you will achieve good marks in school. Those are my
basic expectations." Ana felt sick. But Paul was not finished yet.
"You also may have heard rumors in the town about me. They say I'm
some kind of sexual deviant, and that I have no morals to speak of." Paul
gazed down at Ana, who was struck speechless. "I can't speak as to my morals,
but I am indeed a sexual deviant. There's a name for men like me, and that
name is 'sadist'. Now, I have not indulged my particular pleasures for quite
some time. However, unfortunately for you, and very fortunately for me, it
appears that I have a new toy." Ana realized that he was referring to _her_ as
his "toy". She stood up in shock and began to speak, only to be silenced by her
father's voice.
"Sit down! I told you that you _will not_ speak unless spoken to. You
have nowhere to go. My doors lock from the inside as well as the outside.
And, even if you could get out, there's nowhere you could go for help. I
control this town financially, and no matter how sympathetic they might be to
you, they'll return you to me. I furthermore suggest that you keep your mouth
shut about what goes on here, if you want any semblance of a normal life
outside these walls." Ana was trembling now, in utter disbelief.
"Now. You will address me only as "Father" or "Master". You will wear
only the clothing I choose for you. And you are subject to my demands, at all
times. If you disobey any of my orders, you will be punished. Do you
understand?" Ana finally found her voice.
"No, I don't understand! What do you mean.." That was as far as she got
with her protest. Her father had rapidly crossed the distance to her chair,
grabbed her wrists behind her back, and marched her, crying out her protest
and struggling to get free, to a room on the next floor down. Once she'd
stopped struggling, Ana found herself chained to a wall by her wrists, hanging
from manacles which were set high on the wall. Paul ripped her blouse from
her body in a business-like fashion, doing the same to her bra. He slid the skirt
down past her hips, and then her panties, ignoring his daughter's protests and
feeble kicks. He smiled to himself; it was difficult to kick well when one's
arms were pulled straight above one's head.
