Dungeon Daddy Read online

  Dungeon Daddy

  A Rapunzel Adult Fairy Tale

  Jane Henry

  Contents

  DUNGEON DADDY

  Synopsis

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  1. CHAPTER ONE

  2. CHAPTER TWO

  3. CHAPTER THREE

  4. CHAPTER FOUR

  5. CHAPTER FIVE

  6. CHAPTER SIX

  7. CHAPTER SEVEN

  8. CHAPTER EIGHT

  9. CHAPTER NINE

  10. CHAPTER TEN

  11. CHAPTER ELEVEN

  12. CHAPTER TWELVE

  13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  17. Annabelle (bonus)

  A note from the author

  About the Author

  DUNGEON DADDY

  A Rapunzel Adult Fairy Tale

  Jane Henry

  Synopsis

  His protection comes at a price: total submission

  Rae

  Imprisoned in my tower, shut away from the world, I lived in the pages of my books—and my fantasies.

  Then he rescued me. Made me his.

  He becomes the best Daddy I’ve ever known—caring yet stern.

  Ryder

  Kept captive her whole life, she’s the perfect combination of beauty and innocence.

  I bring her to Limits, the high-end, exclusive, members-only BDSM Club… my home.

  Now she’s under my roof and my protection.

  I’ll protect her, keep her safe…

  And all she has to do is obey

  Please note:

  This is a work of fiction with adult themes. Please do not distribute without written consent from the author.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Shannoff Designs for doing yet another awesome job on the cover, to Miranda for your dedicated edits and unflagging support, and to The Club, the reader group who daily inspires, encourages and motivates. Thank you!

  Prologue

  "Give me two months," Joel begged. "I'll have the money." His thin body and pale face, framed with shocks of blond hair, looking out of place in the luxurious leather chair.

  Martel’s lip curled in disgust. "And how am I to know you will?" he asked. "You know the penalty if you fail to pay."

  "I know I can earn it," the young man promised, his eyes wide with desperation. "I will pay it back, with interest.”

  Martel sneered, leaning his stocky body back to peer down his pointed nose at the man before him. He inspired fear despite his short stature. His ice-blue eyes seemed to cast literal ice through the veins of people like Joel. He smoothed a hand over his short-cropped brown hair, folding his hands across his middle, his face growing harder.

  "You're damn right you will. And you're using this money for a home for you and your new family? Not to buy that shit you used to shoot up your veins when you lived back in the city?"

  Though Joel's cheeks flushed in indignation, he stood his ground. "I won’t. I don’t use anymore.”

  He'd come to Martel, the most ruthless loan shark in Boston, so many times he'd lost count. He'd always paid him back, always with interest, and had never been subject to the gruesome, painful punishments Martel inflicted on those who failed to pay. "You know I'm good for it, sir."

  Martel looked out the window, massaging his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Yes. But what will you use for collateral?"

  "Collateral?" Joel blinked. "You've never asked me for collateral before."

  Martel shrugged indifferently. "Times are changing, Joel. Interest rates are up." His voice hardened. "I've been double-crossed three times in the past month, and I've lost my patience."

  Martel was only three years older than Joel, but had been born and raised in the inner city. He'd learned the art of “lending” from his father, who'd learned it from his father. A family business, one might say. He’d worked hard to prove his worth, rising to the top as the most respected loan sharks on the East Coast.

  "I've got nothing to give you," Joel said, hanging his head. "If I had anything to give you as collateral, I wouldn’t be here asking for money."

  "You have your wife."

  Joel's head shot up and his eyes widened. "You wouldn't," he whispered. "I'd never! You're... you're..."

  "Sick? C'mon, Joel, you can do better than that."

  Joel got to his feet, the chair clattering on the floor behind him. "I'd never let you touch her!" he said.

  Martel frowned, his voice frigid with apathy. "You swore yourself not five minutes ago that there was no need for collateral, since you would pay me back."

  "And I will!"

  "Then sit!" The command was issued so loudly, Joel jumped, then picked up his chair that had clattered behind him before he sat back down.

  "It's only security, you see. Besides, if I give you a loan without the rest of the requirements, how could I be seen as a fair and just man to anyone else?"

  Joel nodded, defeated, as Martel opened a drawer and removed a large stack of crisp one-hundred dollar bills. He licked his thumb and began to fan the money out, counting each bill into a stack. After a moment, he tapped and straightened the stack, then pushed it over to Joel. "There's your money," he said. "And I'll tell you what. I wouldn't want to touch your wife. She is, after all, yours. But since you swear you'll get me the money, I'll give you an alternative."

  Joel licked his lips, eyeing the money. "Yes?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper.

  "You'll get me the money, Joel. Won't you?"

  Joel nodded, the cowlick at the back of his head bobbing up and down. "Yes, yes, of course."

  "No need for me to collect from you, right? I'll have the money, with interest, and on time?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Fantastic." Martel pushed the money toward the eager man, and pulled a contract out of a desk drawer. He clicked the end of a pen, and handed it to Joel.

  "Then sign here."

  "But—but you didn't ask me for… collateral..." Joel's voice trailed off.

  "Ah, minor details," Martel said with a wave of his manicured hand. "But honestly, it's not really necessary, since you'll pay me.” His brow rose slightly. “However, let's make the stakes high, just so I can show everyone else I mean what I say, okay?"

  Joel's eyes narrowed and he swallowed audibly. "Okay..."

  Martel smiled a slow, wicked smile. "Then promise me your child. Your first born. You'll never have to give me the baby, of course, since you'll repay your loan."

  Joel's mouth fell open, and the pen clattered to the desk. Martel picked it up and handed it to the man. "Sign on the dotted line, Joel."

  Four months later

  Gretchen rested her shaking hand on the head of her newborn daughter nestled in her car seat, singing a lullaby, as Joel drove crazily through the wet, dark streets of Boston and out to the country. Now that she held her sweet baby, the threat of Martel's kidnapping her no longer seemed as implausible as it once did. When the baby finally drifted off to sleep, Gretchen sighed.

  "Joel?"

  "Yeah?"

  Gretchen swallowed hard. "Exactly how much do you owe him?"

  "Well..."

  "The truth, please."

  Joel made a choking sound. "One hundred thousand dollars."

  The only response from Gretchen was a soft sniffle from the backseat.

  "It wasn't just for the apartment, Gretchen. It was... it's been... more than that. But for years, I'd make it back at the casino, and pay him interest. It's just lately I've run out of luck."

  "Run out of luck?" she asked, her voice raising in tenor. “You call it out of luck? God, Joel."

&nb
sp; They rode in silence for a few minutes until she spoke from the backseat once more.

  "You know they've been following us for the last five exits."

  The car swerved, then came back to the center lane. Joel swore under his breath.

  "And there's no escaping them. You know that. I know that. We can't fight them."

  Joel was silent for a moment. "But we have to."

  “Drive faster. Please.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Drive as fast as you can.”

  The car shook with acceleration, the frame unable to bear the speed.

  The baby began to wail.

  1

  CHAPTER ONE

  Twenty Years Later

  Ryder

  I drove with one eye on the time and the other on the road ahead of me, picking up speed. I’d gotten stuck in traffic on the way home from New York, having checked out a new venue for a new club I planned to open. I was doing a demonstration tonight in the dungeon. My nerves were fraught with equal part excitement and raw energy, the way I always felt before I scened.

  A pop sounded, my car swerved and bucked, and I screeched to a halt.

  Fuck.

  “What the hell was that?" I muttered to myself, slowed the car, and navigated it to the side of the road. Swearing under my breath, I parked and got out to assess the damage.

  I whistled to myself.

  “For Christ’s sake." I had no patience for inefficiency. Not only was it too damned dark to change a tire, but the side of the road was little more than a strip of gravel, and safety was an issue. I yanked open the door to my retrieve my phone, then dialed Seth, but the call wouldn’t send.

  “Stuck in goddamned Hicksville.”

  I kicked the damaged tire and swore. I was used to giving commands and being obeyed, and hated losing control of a situation. I expected my employees to show on time, and always held myself to the same standards.

  Ahead of me loomed nothing but miles of dim streetlights illuminating the two-lane road I'd driven alone on for the past hour. I’d have to change the tire in the dark.

  I flipped open the hatch and grabbed the bag and spare, kneeling in the blackness beside the blown tire, feeling for what I needed, then swore aloud again.

  The spare was flat.

  "Fuck," I muttered under my breath. I had no idea how far I was from the nearest cell phone signal, or even how far I was from civilization.

  I walked for a few miles in the direction of town, looking for a road sign, but saw nothing until I came to a cluster of trees on the side of the road. Something glimmered behind the trees, catching my attention. Squinting, I tried to see beyond them, but all I could see was a distant light.

  Someone lived just beyond the trees.

  As I walked toward it, the light grew brighter, glowing yellow in the dark night sky. A mile or so ahead stood the silhouette of a house lit by the light of the moon, one light shining in an upper window, a wrought-iron fence surrounding the perimeter. The hair at my neck pricked, my senses warning me that something was wrong, that danger loomed ahead, but I wouldn’t turn away. I’d learned to handle fear.

  I slowed as I drew closer, not knowing what or who to expect, when a shadow crossed the lighted window. I froze and squinted, holding my stance but I was too far to really see anything.

  I crept closer. I could see a two-car garage on the side of the house, to the left of that a small, kidney-shaped pool, and what looked like a garden behind that. It was too dark to see more.

  Where was the front door? And how would I get past the gate? I looked back in the direction of my car, abandoned some miles behind me. Somehow, I had to get the people who lived here to help me, then get the fuck out.

  As I walked toward the gate, it swung open ominously. Someone had forgotten to lock it.

  I headed for the entryway, my senses tingling as if someone watched me. The feeling was so strong, I swiveled my head around, but saw nothing but darkness. Walking up the steps, I pushed the doorbell and heard the resounding ring inside. A full minute passed. I pushed it again, wondering if the occupants were home or asleep, when I saw movement again in the upstairs window. I squinted my eyes and looked harder. Two sliding glass doors stood beyond the balcony. Walking over to the side so I could get a better look, once more a shadow flashed by the window, and then it reappeared.

  What the fuck?

  By now, I was getting annoyed. I needed someone to open the damn door.

  I pushed the doorbell one more time, then, just because I wanted to pound something with my fist, I knocked on the door again. "Hey! I just need to use your phone." Nothing.

  I looked back up to the window, and caught a glimpse of a curvy figure, and long, flowing hair. She kept herself back in the shadows, only peeking through the very corner of the window.

  "Hello!" I yelled, frustration mounting by the minute. I whipped my cell phone out of my pocket and tried to tap it again, to no avail. Not only had the signal bars dimmed, but the screen now bore an "X" across the notifications panel, barring any possibility of connection.

  Shaking my head, I walked toward the road again. Just before I left, I cast one last glance over my shoulder. This time, there was no meek shadow, but the full profile of a woman standing in the middle of the window, staring down at me.

  I waved my hands frantically. "Hey! Can you open the door?" I asked. A split second later the woman turned and I heard a plaintive scream. She fell back, as if yanked from behind, then vanished.

  My pulse spiked.

  Someone had hurt her.

  I raced to the house, as I looked for a way to get up to her. She was at least three stories up, and though there was a balcony outside her window, there was no obvious way up, but her window was above a small, fenced-in garden and the fence would give me some leverage.

  I scaled the fence and launched myself to the first level alcove hanging beside the house. Heaving myself up, I pushed myself to stand on a flower box outside a window, hoping it would bear my weight. I only needed to leap a foot and a half to grab the rail of the balcony. Pulling myself up, I got to the ledge, my muscles aching from the strain, but adrenaline pumping.

  Seconds later, I lifted my body onto the small balcony, and shoved the sliding door open. To my relief, it opened easily. I glanced inside the room, looking for a sign of the girl, but I could see nothing. Had someone taken her? If I yelled they'd hear me, and could hurt her… I had to help her. I stepped inside, but as soon as my feet hit the floor, a blood-curdling scream met my ears. "Trespasser!"

  I turned to face the person yelling at me, seconds before something huge and solid loomed in front of me. I saw a flash of silver just before something whacked the side of my head, and I fell to the ground, unconscious.

  2

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rae

  I stared down at the man on the floor in front of me.

  The first real person I’d seen in ages—and oh my God a hot guy at that. A strong, muscled, monster of a man with a scuff of beard and a square jaw, dark brown hair that fell onto his forehead—literally landed at my feet, and I knocked him out? What had I done? I dropped the iron I held in my hand and knelt beside him to see if he was still breathing. The iron was heavy and my hands were shaking, and he hadn’t gotten the full smack of it. Still, he lay unconscious.

  How was someone supposed to check for breathing? I flipped him over onto his back and he groaned out loud. Okay, then. Phew. He wasn't dead.

  I only meant to stop him. I hadn't meant to kill him. A goose egg rose on the side of his head, and I felt a moment of chagrin, before I reminded myself that he had totally deserved the whack to the head. Who scales the side of a private residency?

  I had to call someone for help.

  But who could I call? I couldn’t call the police, since they were friends with my father, and if I called my father… I shivered and swallowed.

  He would hurt him.

  I pulled a copy of Ward’s Best Home Remedies and First Aid off the shelf, and
scanned until I came to the chapter entitled "head injuries." Quickly flipping to the right chapter, I scanned the instructions.

  Keep the person still. Ok well clearly, I could do that. He wasn't going anywhere.

  Keep the injured person lying down and quiet. Again, not a problem

  Elevate the shoulders and head. Hmm. I looked around my room and figured the huge pillow by the window where I read would work best. I lugged it down, which was no small task given that it was pretty enormous, and I tossed it to the floor, lifted his head, and placed it on top.

  Stop any bleeding. Frowning, I looked as closely to his head as possible but there was no blood to be seen.

  Apply ice once the bleeding stops. Well, that would entail having to go down to the kitchen, which would mean I'd have to take my eyes off of him. Nope.

  Watch for changes in breathing and alertness. Alright, then. I sat cross-legged on the floor and stared. And stared. After a little while, I poked his foot. "Mister?"

  He grunted and shifted. It was at that point it occurred to me that when he did come to, he could react violently or in anger, and it would be smartest to be sure he was properly tied up. Quickly, I got to my feet and ran to my closet, grabbed two thin belts from a hook at the back, and came back to him. I knelt, looped one belt around his ankles and another around his wrists, and pulled them tight, then fastened them.