The Carver: Daddy's Girl
Copyright© 2026 by A duck named TEF
Chapter 1
Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Everett Dickinson, aka The Carver, could see numerous possibilities in being interviewed by a young psych student. To the serial killer’s delight not only does it turn out to be a she, but she is actually the warden's daughter. Aware as he is that some members of the fairer sex are drawn to men like himself, the idea that he might seduce her is too delicious for words. Who knows, she might even prove useful in his plans to escape.
Caution: This Thriller Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Crime Rough Anal Sex Masturbation Oral Sex Slow Violence
I’d like to thank Ashley for all his guidance, editing assistance, and incredible patience with me, as well as being the inspirational force behind this story. Thank you my good sir!
“Absolutely not.” It was the father in the man speaking. A paternal need to protect his daughter from the influence of evil overrode any inclination to help further her education.
“This could launch my career after I graduate, though!”
“Even if I agreed, there’s no guarantee he would agree to it.”
The young woman crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. Turning away from her father, she wracked her mind for another angle. Anything to get her way.
“You could appeal to the instructor in him. I am after all, a student, and he has a vendetta against stupid people; ergo, he should be more than happy to help a student.”
“You have an unhealthy obsession with criminals; ergo, I am against it. He’s not an instructor anyway, he’s a construction worker with a misguided sense of vigilante justice.”
He wasn’t wrong about her obsession, and that only infuriated her more.
“I take my education and jobs more seriously than I would a quick thrill. You have to admit, I’m doing really well in the library at the prison. Everyone loves me!”
“Mandy, it’s because you’re an attractive young woman and they are locked up with little time out of a tiny room.” He was getting worn down, she could tell by the exhausted look in his eyes and the growing fatigue in his voice.
His comment brought back her self-awareness of looking like an adult child. She had a petite hourglass figure most of her female peers would envy, and that was fine with her; she spent a long time at the gym to maintain that. It was the face staring back at her from the mirror that upset her; she still had quite a youthful face.
Maybe, in thirty years, she would be praising such good genes. Now, she was getting frustrated at being pulled over for looking like she was an underage driver. She was teased as a baby face at school, too. However, at times like this, trying to sway her father, it could be a devastating tool if she used it correctly.
Why was it so important to her, this request her father considered taboo?
Mandy was a young student with a promising outlook of achieving a good career in criminal justice, as well as a part-time library assistant for the only supermax prison in the country. Her father was a well-respected warden of the same supermax. It was newly built, and he was honored to have earned the privilege of being its first warden.
Even with the connections afforded to her by her father’s position and her employment, Mandy was still struggling in one class: Abnormal Psychology.
It was her hope that she could interview the new arrival at the supermax, Everett Dickinson, AKA The Carver. He garnered that nickname by his signature of leaving a small wooden carving with each of his victims. The carving was usually that of an insect or other ‘pest’ creature.
“Please, Dad! Daddy! Papa!” she begged, “Professor Steele is an absolute dickwad! If I don’t do something big for my final paper, she’s gonna fail me! University is expensive enough as it is, I don’t want to have to dish out another grand only to re-take a class I should be acing if not for a pretentious douchebag of a professor!”
Her father sighed deeply, pinching his nose between a finger and thumb. Finally, he replied in a tone that exposed his weariness, “I’ll think about it.” It was difficult to deny her when she gazed up at him with those light brown doe-like eyes.
His daughter reminded him too much of his late wife, that slight upturned nose, large, wonder-filled eyes, and plump pink lips that reddened when she was desperate for something. It wasn’t fair when his wife had played up the cuteness factor, torturous when Mandy did it.
With a squeal of delight, the young woman embraced her father in as big a hug as her petite frame would allow. Saying something incomprehensible as human language, she ran off to her room, most likely to attend to her homework, studies, or just to settle down from the emotional storm of trying to convince her father to get her an audience with the notorious ‘Carver’.
“Anastasia, our daughter has become the worst of us both.” He said as he cast a glance at the last family portrait they all took together. Four smiling faces looked back, still in time and happy together.
Now it was just Mandy, her younger sister Demeter, and himself, Warden Gillock. At least his younger daughter was somewhat normal, still in her unicorn rainbow princess phase.
An unassuming staff member of the supermax stood opposite the cell of inmate M04201965JW, Everett Dickinson. The name they knew him by was an alias; his real name was known to only one family member, and even then, he was most likely dead. The prisoner had assumed the alias over ten years ago, running from a life he buried in a cold mountain pass.
It had been a month and ten days since he had been locked away, since the gavel hit and the judgment passed, since he last spoke a single word. He didn’t fight them bringing him in. The day the evidence proved without a doubt that he was guilty, he had seemingly given up entirely.
For a time, he was allowed in the general populace of the supermax, cleared for places like the library, chapel, and even the mess hall, where a majority of the inmates shared mealtime. The clearance he had afforded him a cell 8x12, with a view of the yard, even.
It was fine, and he would have preferred to stay if that insolent inmate, Reyes, hadn’t persisted in conversing with him. Was it not painfully obvious that Everett didn’t want to talk to anyone? The moron wouldn’t shut up, and when he had the audacity to mention Everett’s mother, that was it.
So Everett shut him up by force, using a spoon and a fist. Reyes would be eating from a straw for at least half a year, more after the necessary reconstruction surgeries, in addition to a few broken ribs and a compound fracture in his right arm. That little outburst got Everett into a higher security ward.
Standing in the warden’s office, listening to the old man drone on about what a despicable monster he was, it was still worth the look on Reyes’ silenced face. However, Everett despised being talked down to, belittled by a man who hid behind a badge.
All the while the warden continued berating him, Everett was silent, studying his office, more notably, the blueprints on the desk, helpfully highlighting a few vulnerabilities within the complex. The ventilation system wasn’t due for an upgrade to fix a few oversights for another month if that invoice was correct. Was that a connection from the computer labs to the outer walls?