Google and Tortured

[DomG]

Patrick Burns had been living alone for a while and greatly enjoyed having his life that way. He had nearly gotten married about fourteen years ago but the bitch had run off on him when she found out she was pregnant and for years he had been paying child support. You get a bit rough with a bitch these days and they start making all sorts of threats about going to the police and then trying to get away from you. Nothing had come of her threats to go to the police though, they had talked to him, he had only smiled and laughed a little bit and before long they were smiling and laughing along with him... despite the fact that he was an absolute bastard Patrick had a natural talent for being glib and charming... finding manipulating people quite easy. Maybe that was what made him a naturally talented lawyer, he could make even the worst criminals whom he defended seem innocent.

Of course he had just days before gotten the word that the bitch had died, and of course he had celebrated no longer needing to pay her child support by going out and getting terribly trashed, which really wasn't much of a celebration for him since he did it often enough as it was. The next morning, with a bit of a hangover and a blonde that he didn't remember picking up in his bed he had read the rest of the letter that he had been sent about the death of his ex... apparently her grandparents were dead as well and he was her only living relative... she was going to be sent to live with him.

That had really pissed him off when he had realized what it meant, his child support might be done but that hardly mattered because he would be responsible for her himself, he would have to clothe and feed her. Now it seemed that his bachelor life would be coming to something of an end before long, the easy convenience of doing what he wanted when he wanted too, if he wanted sex it was as easy as going to a bar and flashing his credit card where some barely legal little whore could see it and then throwing her out the next day.

The blonde was gone minutes later... she had tried to move up on him and see if he wanted to have more fun but instead only been thrown out... most of her clothing going out the window for her to chase down later.

It didn't take long though, he wasn't able to pick out the exact moment when though perhaps it had been when he was enrolling her in school and saw the way some of the little sluts dressed, that he realized just how well this could work out for him. He often picked up underage girls who used fake I.D.s to get into the bars that he frequented, they always tended to be tighter and a lot more fun to be rough with plus they left without getting overly clingy... his daughter would make a useable cunt whever he needed it.

And now he was just awaiting her arrival, in his apartment drinking a glass of straight scotch, her flight should have arrived maybe half an hour ago and he had told her that she could get a cab, it would be covered by his credit card without trouble and he was expecting her to arrive any moment.

 

[tortured soul]

Isla Brooks had never known much about her father. Her mother Caitlin had always been circumspect about him. Isla had never been told about the abuse her mother had suffered at his hands or how Caitlin had to move to a different state in order to escape Patrick's determination to make her abort his unwanted child. There was no restraining order in existence that would keep Patrick Burns from her but once Isla was born and there was no hope of avoiding child support, he finally gave in and let Caitlin get on with her life.

Caitlin had dated nice guys after that but they bored her and none of them lasted. Isla grew up the only child of a single parent and when she was eight years old carbon monoxide poisoning dispatched her grandparents. Isla had never met her other grandparents. Her mother had made it abundantly clear that Patrick and his family were a closed book. So Isla made do with the few photos her mother had kept of him and tried to accept that she must have good reason for keeping him out of their lives. She had often thought about tracking him down when she was older. Everyone was on facebook and surely her mother must have some idea where he was? She knew he was a lawyer, which impressed her because she naively imagined her father as a defender of crime victims, an upstanding citizen who wouldn't defend people who were guilty.

Isla had been at school when cops had arrived to tell her that her mother had died in a road accident. Caitlin had been cycling from Isla's school to her job at a nearby factory when a negligent truck driver had knocked her down. Isla just sat there, numb with shock as the female cop and the school counsellor tried and failed to help her process what had happened. Then the cop started asking gently about her other relatives and Isla simply came up blank... except for her dad.

"Yeah that's what we figured. We tried finding an adult relative to inform first and our system just came up with nothing. Nobody in this state."

Isla retreated into herself as the authorities quietly tidied away the remnants of Caitlin's life, emptying her tiny rented apartment, putting her meagre assets in Isla's name and arranging for her to make the journey to her father. She packed up a suitcase and put aside things to be sent on, furniture from her room and everything from their tiny apartment that she wanted to keep. Before she really knew what was happening she was on a plane to her father's city. The in flight staff made a huge fuss of her, which helped pass the time.

When she landed, her dad wasn't even there. He had emailed her instructions and an address but it hadn't really occurred to Isla that she would have to get a cab all by herself. People stared at her as she stomped dejectedly through arrivals, out of the airport and flagged down a taxi. Soon she was outside his fancy apartment building, with a bemused cab driver asking her if she was sure this was the right place.

"How the hell should I know? If it isn't I'll just get another cab."

He pulled away swiftly, offended by her bluntness but Isla simply wasn't capable of social niceties right now. She dragged her suitcase up the steps and into the lobby, where a doorman took pity on her and showed her up to her father's floor.

Isla swallowed hard and then rapped loudly on the polished wood.

 

[DomG]

Over the years Patrick had seen a few pictures of his daughter, he hadn't really cared one way or the other about her as she was growing up but he knew how much Caitlyn had wanted to keep him out of her life any way that she possibly could. As a small way to torment her as revenge for harassing him over the years for the child support she demanded for a child he hadn't wanted he would insist that she would send him some pictures every few years with the threat that if she didn't he would take her to court and sue for custody, at the time it had been a bluff but she had never dared to stand up to him. It was her word against his own when it came to the abuse, there was no record of it ever occurring and with the amount of money he had beating her in court would have been exceptionally simple.

As a result his home had a few pictures of her from when she was younger in frames that sat on random spots around the apartment, they were useful for convincing different people who might be visiting him that he was a caring father who due to circumstances outside of his control didn't have any real contract with his daughter. His last promotion had occurred because he had managed to convince one of the senior partners at the firm whom he had invited over for drinks one night that he loved his daughter very much and got to see her very rarely... and he of course hadn't informed his ex about his promotion and the increased pay that came along with it because he hadn't wanted to have to send her any more money... she left him so let her live with the social status she had chosen.

Finishing off his glass of scotch Patrick had just started to pour himself another when there was a loud rapping at his door, fortunately none had been spilled but the annoying interruption made his teeth grind a little bit. Rising to his feet he moved to the door, his footsteps heavy across the dark wooden floors before he yanked the door open, glaring at the young red head who was waiting by the door. “You are ten minutes late.” He practically barked at her, knowing that no neighbors were likely to be out and about at this point in the day to hear him. Reaching for her he gripped her by the upper arm, squeezing tightly and pulling her in without any semblance of being gentle or considerate. “And there is nothing that I hate more then someone who is late... now your room is in the back through the door on the left. I want you to go there and drop off all your things... then get back out to see me in two minutes otherwise I shall be even more annoyed with you then I already happen to be.”

 

[tortured soul]

Isla was too stunned to argue. This was far from the reunion she had been imagining on the way over here. The woman from child services who had arranged the flights had told Isla that her father was a little reticent about taking her on but that was put down to the long hours he worked as a lawyer. It hadn't occurred to Isla that he didn't want her at all.

She dragged her suitcase to the room he indicated and regarded her wan face in the mirror on the wall, hot tears scalding her eyes at her dad's total lack of sympathy for her loss. Well fuck him, she wasn't going to cry. Isla smoothed the denim skirt she was wearing, along with a soft grey sweater that would only stay on one shoulder at a time. She didn't wear a bra because she didn't need one yet. Beneath the skirt was a pair of panties with a floral print and on her feet she wore warm fleece lined winter boots that came up to just below her knee. She dumped her coat and scarf on the bed.

He was drinking whiskey, was he drunk? Was he an alcoholic? She knew nothing about this man and he was being so mean to her. Ten minutes late, she had just travelled interstate by herself and he was yelling at her about that? The child services lady had given Isla her number though and she had promised to call and let her know that she had arrived ok. Maybe she'd have more to tell if her last remaining relative kept this up.

Isla dashed her sleeve across her face and stalked back to the lounge with eyes that were slightly red-rimmed but nevertheless dry. A lump rose in her throat as adrenaline raced through her veins. She stood before him, retreating into the sullen silence that every teenager arms themselves with when circumstances overwhelm them. For some reason that she couldn't name, she didn't meet his stern gaze.

 

[DomG]

Dominic was hardly the most patient person in the world, when he was sober he had little patience and when he was drunk it was quite a bit worse, he was hardly drunk right that moment but a few drinks in he had a great buzz going on and he didn't exactly feel like having to wait very long for his daughter to drop her gear and join him. He had quite a few plans for his daughter, she was a rather attractive young thing looking quite a bit like an incredibly young version of her mother whom Dominic had been very fond of all those years ago and of course even better she was redoubtably a virgin. Draining the remainder of the scotch in his glass with a single long swallow he grinned at the thought of how he could use her body.

As he sat on the couch, setting aside the glass and preparing to pour himself another drink Dominic heard her setting her stuff away and sniffling a bit, it hardly bothered him at all, her tears little more then an annoyance to him and he wouldn't deny that he enjoyed causing pain... sadism was just a part of who he was and trying to convince him otherwise would only be met with laughter. As she left the room and moved back before him, presenting herself with dry if reddened eyes he only smirked a little bit as he looked at her, seeing that she was clearly attempting to put on a brave face but he only saw that as a challenge, he would enjoy breaking her of her rebellious spirit. With an exaggerated sigh he took a glance at his watch, seeing that she had indeed met the time limit that he had given her earlier.

“Glad to see that you know how to hustle when you are reminded that punctuality is important.” He practically growled at her as he looked her over slowly. “I am hardly used to living with a child and I think you will find that I have very little patience for tardiness and a great deal of other things... now as my daughter I expect you to dress in a modest fashion, the last thing I need is for you to come home from school carrying some local boys bastard child.”

Slowly he rose to his feet, steady though he had drank quite a bit and the smell was easily discerned on his breath. “Now Isla I am going to keep this as simple as possible for you and the sooner you obey me the easier this will be for you... angering me is really not a good idea... I want you to strip down to your underwear for me so I can make sue that my daughter isn't dressed like a little slut.”

 

[tortured soul]

Isla stood and stared into middle distance with her eyes lowered as her father spoke, in much the same way she would maintain outward contrition in the presence of an overbearing teacher. Her pale skin flushed at her father's mention of 'bastard children' but she kept quiet. He rose and moved close to her, clearly trying to intimidate her and establish his authority by towering over her tiny frame. 'Dad,' though it was weird to think of this stranger in those terms, exhaled noxious whiskey fumes over her as he continued, warming to his theme.

“Now Isla I am going to keep this as simple as possible for you and the sooner you obey me the easier this will be for you... angering me is really not a good idea... I want you to strip down to your underwear for me so I can make sue that my daughter isn't dressed like a little slut.”

Isla's jaw dropped and she lifted her gaze to examine his face and make sure this was some kind of joke. Only then did she register the distinctly unpaternal gleam in his eyes, a latent intent so powerful that she almost instinctively took a step backwards. Still young Isla was clueless as to what her father was getting at here. Was he a practising Catholic? Perhaps some priest had filled his head with rubbish regarding the evils of wayward girls. Her mother had long since abandoned the faith. She had no idea whether Patrick was religious or not.

He stared at her expectantly and Isla strove to overcome her profound shock. She reflexively folded her arms across her chest, an action that unwittingly drew attention (if one was perverted enough to be leering at her) to the slight puffiness where her breasts were budding. Deciding she'd heard enough, Isla lifted her chin and regarded her father with a disapproving glare that she had inherited directly from Caitlin. In only the way a teenager can, she replied with withering contempt.

"Ok, time out. I don't know what kind of 'delinquent teenage daughter' pamphlet child services gave you but I'm thirteen. I don't drink - great role modelling by the way - and I've never even kissed a boy. Not that it's any of your business but the underwear I have on is exactly the same as everything else in my suitcase, so go sniff my panties if it'll make you happy. I don't know what the hell is going on here but I'm tired and you're drunk... well I really hope you're drunk. So I'm going to go hide my room like a good little emo kid and unpack my stuff. We can start this little reunion over tomorrow, if you're not too hung over."

Isla was tempted to remind him that she was grieving her mother and had just been completely uprooted but she didn't want to be reduced to that, to whining like a little kid. She felt far more secure within her exoskeleton of pubescent apathy and disdain.

She walked out of the lounge without waiting for the old drunk to reply and headed down the hall towards her room.