Lianna pulled her knees closer to her chest, tucked into the corner, but as he stood over her she knew nothing could protect her. It was just the two of them, and he wanted to make her scream. “I can get him to do whatever you want, you don’t need to hurt me.”

“You’ll have your chance.” The man answered quietly as he walked toward the back wall.

“Please, just let me go. He’ll do whatever it is. I swear.” A fruitless plea. A useless collection of consonants and vowels strung together to no effect as he looped the chain through a steel half-circle high on the wall. The grating sound of metal on metal made her whimper.

“Come here.” He pointed at the floor, but she just stared at him, at his masked face and dark clothes, and stayed still. “Do you really want me to drag you?”

Shaking her head, she tried to get her muscles to move, but she wasn’t able to obey. Everything told her to escape, and she finally gathered enough strength to move. Then she ran for the door. Her fingers brushed the handle, felt it turn, felt the heavy weight of the door shift towards her — and his arm came around her waist. A band of muscle that felt like steel as he lifted her off her feet, ripping the handle from her hands, tearing her away from freedom, and she screamed as loud as she could.

“That’s right, princess. Scream for him.”

All of her struggles were futile as he carried her back to the wall and slammed her against it, bruised ribs aching as her arms were forced upward. The man wrapped the chain tight around her wrists and then locked a padlock through the links. He tested them first with a jerk, but even when his hands moved away she still pulled, feeling the metal dig into her aching wrists as she tried to squeeze a hand through.

“No!” she sobbed, feeling tears forming, and then he slipped something over her head. Glancing down, it looked like a pocket on cord, and she twisted to face him, confused and terrified. He tilted his head and pulled a phone from his pocket, a simple cell phone that still had all the number keys.

“I’m going to call Daddy, and let you talk to him. Like I said.”

Excitement feuded with terror, because she wanted to speak with her father, wanted to know he was coming to save her. To help her… but she knew it would come at a cost. “What do you want him to do?”

“Simple. I want him to sign the paperwork I sent.”

Lianna’s mind whirled, trying to understand what paperwork could be worth doing this. “What’s in the paperwork?” she asked in a whisper.

“Does it matter? You just need to beg.” Holding down one of the numbers, he pressed another button, and she heard the speakerphone kick on as the ringing came out loud and clear. He tucked the phone into the pouch against her chest, and then stepped behind her.

The door opened, closed, and the click of the phone connecting made her breath catch.

“You son of a bitch, I want my—”

“Dad?” she spoke, tears almost choking off the word, but her father’s voice softened instantly.

“Lianna? Are you alright, princess?” Noises came out of the phone, rapid whispers, and then he came back. “Where are you? Who is he, do you know him?”

“He took me from your place, I don’t know who he is or where I am, just please help me. Please, I don’t know what—”

The man was back, the loud sound of the door opening and closing stopped the words in her throat, but her father filled the silence. “Lianna? Is he there? Let her go now!”

Pain snapped across the backs of her thighs and for a moment her legs gave out, wrists straining against the bulging links of the chain, and she realized she’d screamed just like he wanted.

“DO NOT HURT HER! Let her go immediately!”

Another strike, and another, and she was crying, breaths too short, panicked, because there was nowhere to escape as she pressed herself forward against the wall. Unfortunately, it only seemed to amplify her father’s voice as the little pocket rested above her breasts.

“You son of a bitch! You won’t get away with this, I’ll kill you!” Her father’s shouts held a rage she’d heard so few times in her life that it even made her quail, but the man behind her simply moved closer.

Brushing her hair away from her neck, he spoke quietly, “The paperwork, princess. Beg him to sign or I keep hurting you.”

“Dad, please—” Cut off by another strike of pain across her ass, she whimpered, trying to coalesce her thoughts into language. “Sign the paperwork! Please!”

“I can’t just sign this! You have to listen to me, the board won’t approve it!”

The board?

Agony took away her thoughts again as the next strike landed across her shoulders, followed quickly by another. It was the belt again, the fierce snap of it — she knew it was the belt, and he wasn’t going to stop. “DADDY PLEASE!”

“Princess, you know this is complicated. What he’s asking I can’t just do. Selling a company takes time.” Robert Mercier’s trademark calm and collected voice came through the phone just as another lash landed and she screamed in pain. “Lianna, listen, it takes time. I’m trying.”

Trying?

Belt. Pain. Scream.

“Please sign, please…” She was sobbing so hard it was difficult to push the words out, but she could hear her father whispering, the speaker end of the phone angled towards her face so that she was forced to listen to him debating with someone in hushed tones.

Another strike, and then another. Always in a new place, a new agony, and her sobs were making her choke as she strained to keep herself upright. Reaching for the chain with one hand she held on, trying to ease it, but nothing stalled the torture.

The man pressed against her back, cock hard in his pants as he spoke quietly, “Get him to sign, or I won’t stop.”

Sniffling, she drew in breath and nodded as she babbled, “Just sign what he sent you! Just sign it so he’ll stop, Dad, please, please…”

A harsh sound came through the phone. “Selling a company takes time, Lianna. You know this!”

Torment coursed through her nerves as a flurry of strikes landed on her ass, over and over, until she was keening in a high-pitched whine as the pain became too much. Legs giving out, wrists straining and threatening to snap against the unforgiving steel of the chain. “Please, please, Dad! I’m begging you, sign, please!”

The phone was dead, not even the scratch of empty air coming over the line, and after one more debilitating strike across already aching skin, the man came forward. Plucking the phone from the pouch, he growled and walked away.

A moment later she heard the door open and shut, and she leaned forward against the wall, sobbing.

Why hadn’t he agreed? Why hadn’t he signed?

Why wasn’t her father saving her?