The Carver: Daddy's Girl
Copyright© 2026 by A duck named TEF
Chapter 8
Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 8 - 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
Jovis heard over the radio in her decommissioned cruiser that the warden’s daughter was not at home, where she was supposed to be.
“Shit,” she hissed.
Demeter, in a rainbow shirt and a pink tutu, fussed with the tulle, “You said a bad word.” She then gripped the door handle and giggled as Jovis suddenly yanked on the steering wheel, jumped a median, and sped toward the warden’s house.
“Sorry, kiddo, your sister is playing hide and seek at the worst possible time. Hold on, and stay in the car!”
As soon as she pulled into the driveway, Jovis was out of the cruiser with a hand hovering by her concealed carry. Despite being retired, and the presence of another three uniforms, she still had a habit of moving in a certain way when on location. Years of training had ingrained into the retired detective the need to be ready for anything, no matter what.
“Did she leave anything like a clue of what happened?” Jovis asked the senior enforcer.
He didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. The look on his face said it for him. It was bad. He handed her a plastic evidence bag with the note left behind by Everett.
Jovis read it and went pale. “Fuck.” She didn’t have any real jurisdiction anymore, but she did have an obligation to protect the warden’s youngest daughter. She handed the note back.
“Take it directly to the warden. He needs to know, I have a couple of phone calls to make.” With that, she slipped back into her cruiser, hands tightly on the wheel as she took a moment to breathe.
“Is Mandy gonna be okay?” Demeter looked up at Jovis, her eyes starting to redden at the edges, nose sniffling and dripping already.
Jovis forced the most tender smile she could and set a hand on Demeter’s head, “We’re going to do everything we can to find her, sweetheart. Okay?”
Everything within a ten-mile radius was locked down tighter than a drum. Road blocks, ID checks, uniformed enforcers around every corner, door-to-door searches. The radius was slowly growing the longer the Carver was at large.
The warden walked the halls of the prison, flanked by various uniformed enforcers relaying updates in real time, and the ever-present government agents. His head was slightly tilted back, and he pinched his narrow nose between a finger and thumb. The longer this went on, the more his stress grew.
Yet another uniform pushed her way to the forefront of the warden’s vision. She was breathing heavily, holding an evidence bag to the warden, hand trembling.
“What’s this?” He took the bag and read the contents of the note. His heart stopped, skin losing all color. The warden fell to his knees, barely able to hold himself up. A silent wail of agony lodged itself in his throat as he struggled to breathe. Not this ... Not this ... Anything but this... The feeling of failure consumed his being, mixed with an agony he had only felt twice before. At the loss of his wife, and before that, the loss of his older sister.
One of the agents picked the bag up from the floor where the warden had dropped it.
“What’s it say?” the other agent asked.
His partner began to read it quietly so only they would hear, “It says, ‘My half-brother took your sister, now I have your daughter. No matter what happens to me, she’s forever mine alone. Signed Everett C. Lazlo, The Carver.’’” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Jesus. We put her in that position.”
With the warden now compromised, the chain of command dictated that the agents assume command. Until their unit leader came on scene, the two were co-commanders in the operation. The two agents escorted the warden back to his office, now set up as the command center headquarters for the escape incident.
“Who’s the woman that he usually has around as counsel?” Agent Vanderheyden asked a uniform.
The nameless man stood a little straighter after being addressed, “That would be Ret. Detective Jovis. She’s currently taking the youngest daughter to a safe place.”
He nodded, “Another daughter, huh? Alright, get Jovis on a radio. He needs a familiar voice now.”
The two stepped out of the vehicle, someplace in the middle of nowhere near Atlas Marsh. Everett headed toward something that looked like it could have been a trail at some point.
“This way to the safe house. It’s not too much further.”
He was right, about five more minutes, and the two stood before what looked like a long-abandoned hunting cabin.
“It’s cleaner on the inside. Has a nice basement, too. I need to check something. You make yourself comfortable, I won’t be gone long.”
Mandy giggled nervously as she stepped inside when Everett held the door for her.
The cabin was much better maintained on the inside. Just about a little over a month’s worth of dust coated everything, otherwise the place was perfectly cosy. She tossed her bag on the couch in the main room and debated removing her shirt due to the humidity.
A sense of curiosity took hold of her, and Mandy followed to where she saw Everett disappear - the kitchen. There was a door in the floor left open; she assumed it led to the basement. He did say it was a nice basement. She headed down to take a look.
There, chained to a wall, was a rough-looking young man, and the partially eaten corpse of a woman.
Mandy had never seen a dead body so close before. She didn’t know how to feel about it. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind. Everett pulled her close and brought his head next to hers.
“I guess he got hungry while I was away. Good thing the pipe leaks down here, too. He probably would have drunk her blood if it wasn’t for that.”
The young man was pleading with his eyes, too scared to speak. Otherwise, he would be screaming, pleading, crying, anything to play on any sympathy of his captor.
The young man was Edward Andrews Jr., the son of the renowned and beloved Representative Edward Andrews Sr. He had lived his life like any child born of privilege would. He used Daddy’s name, fame, and money to get anything he wanted. Cars, clothing, women, he had it all. But having it all wasn’t enough for him.