Chapter Eight
Daniel
I wake up to find Briarlee nestled under my arm. She’s fast asleep. So trusting. So pure, so…
My cock is rock hard. I have to fuck her. The urge is almost irresistible. I need to be inside her. I need to feel her cunt stretching around me, gripping me. I need to feel those inner muscles holding me tight as I plunge inside her over and over again, driving her to a screaming climax…
“Morning,” she mumbles sleepily.
“Morning, sweetheart.” I drop a kiss on her neck and wrap my arms around her.
She curls into me, smelling so sweet, so perfect… I need to fuck her. I want this room to smell like sweat and semen, not sweet remnants of perfume and femininity.
Every moment I draw breath is a moment I have to battle with my animal desire for her. I am a brutal monster. I am…
“Mmmm,” she says, squirming her round ass not so innocently back against my erection.
I let out a growl that rumbles through the both of us.
It makes her giggle and squirm more.
“Stop it,” I say, putting one big hand on her hip.
“Or what?”
“Or I’m going to fuck you.”
She looks over her shoulder at me and gives me a slow, very deliberate roll of her hips. The beast is unleashed. I pull her panties down, push my cock up toward her cunt. I find her hot and wet, slick with the effects of some wet dream, perhaps. It’s fortunate for her, because I thrust my dick deep inside her, roll her onto her stomach, and start pounding into her as she writhes and wails beneath me.
She loves every moment of it. She was made for a man, no, a beast like me. She was made to be held down and fucked long and hard, used for my pleasure. The cum is roiling in my balls, urgent with the need to be inside her. Must fuck. Must come. Nothing matters besides filling her tight, bare pussy with my semen.
Her pussy is puffy and red, slathered in my seed.
“Wow,” she pants. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.”
I breathe. I’m calm. For the next few hours at least, I can be rational.
* * *
Briarlee
When he first told me who he was and what he’d done, I was furious, and then I was guilty and now, well, now I’m just satisfied. Deeply satisfied in a way I’ve never been before. He doesn’t make love to me, or fuck me. He utterly consumes me. He makes my body obey his will. He makes my heart beat to his rhythm.
I’ve always loved Daniel in one way or another. Now I’m infatuated with him. We get up together, grab showers, get breakfast. This is starting to feel sweet and domestic. Until he opens his mouth again.
“I need to deal with you.”
“Me? Why? What have I done?”
“That guilt you carry around. It’s not healthy. I’m going to help you let it go.”
“Oh, yeah? How? You gonna sit me down and talk therapy me?”
He snorts. “I’m going to tie you up and whip your ass until you cry.”
He must see the look of shock on my face. “With your permission, of course.”
“You want me to tell you it’s okay to whip me?”
“I want you to tell me you want to feel fully forgiven. All the way to those toes that curl so fucking sexily every time I’m inside you. You need to be punished, Briarlee. And not for me. For you.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe the reason I’ve been bumbling my way through life, never really achieving anything of any merit is because I didn’t think I deserved it. A shrink floated that idea past me once. I changed the subject.
This new, improved Daniel probably won’t let that trick work.
I feel my face flushing with embarrassed heat. In all the time we’ve known each other since the accident, he’s never so much as mentioned that I deserve punishment—but I’ve always known I do. How long has he known what I craved?
He comes over to me, stands me up with him, and tips my chin up so I meet his eyes. “It’s what you want, isn’t it, Briarlee. More than that, it’s what you need.”
I give the smallest of nods, barely perceptible. But he sees it. Daniel knows me better than any other person on this planet. He knows what I want, what I need. He knows what I think. He knows what I dream, and somehow, all that knowing makes it worse. If he knows what I need, and he plans to give it to me… even thinking about it makes me shiver where I stand. I’ve been a very bad girl.
I avoid his gaze, and in doing so, find myself distracted by his shirtless torso. His muscles ripple powerfully beneath his skin in a way I’ve only seen on men in movies, and I’m pretty sure they were CGI. But he’s real. Every day, it seems like he gets a little taller, a little broader, a little more muscled. He’s transforming before my eyes.
He says he’s got a whole lot more to take before he’s done with the treatment, so this isn’t even his final form. What will he be like when he’s done? And what will he do to me along the way? Even trying to think about it makes me quiver.
“Briarlee…” He growls my name and brings my attention back to him and what he’s saying. Wait. What was he saying?’
“Hm?”
“You need to be punished like a bad girl, so you can feel like a good girl. Don’t you.”
I squirm. He makes me feel so small. He makes me feel as though he can see right through me. Maybe he can. He’s smart enough to take me apart mentally, and he’s known me for long enough to have an instinctive understanding. Like I thought I had of him, except I didn’t, because I never really paid half as much attention to him as I did to myself.
“Tell me, Briarlee.”
“I mean, I don’t know.”
“You were crying last night,” he reminds me. “You said I was too good for you. You said you didn’t deserve this. Or me.”
“Well, uhm…”
I don’t know what to expect from him. He’s different after he comes. Much less aggressive, but still utterly ultra-masculine.
“You want me to let you get away with everything?” His voice is low and gravelly. It makes my heart skip a beat.
“No,” I whisper.
“You want me to teach you a lesson like the naughty girl you are?”
“Yes,” I say, even more quietly.
“I need to hear you, Briar…”
He’s going to make me ask for punishment. I can’t believe I’ve gotten to this point in my life. This is humiliating. But it’s also an opportunity to get what I need so badly. Maybe it’s okay to ask for it.
“Please,” I say. “Uhm, punish me.”
“Good girl,” he purrs.
He takes me by the hand and draws me over to the couch. Again I find myself over the back of it. This time he’s not going to fuck me. This time he’s going to punish me. Even the thought makes me blush as I squirm in place, naked and vulnerable.
“Let’s start with the getting fired from job after job because you don’t want to follow anyone’s rules,” he says, letting the belt drape over my bottom.
“Rules suck,” I pout.
Crack!
The belt meets my ass in a wicked snap. Heat and pain bloom on my skin. I gasp and reach back, but he pushes my hands up and holds them at the small of my back.
“You’ve just never been made to follow any,” he says. “You’re spoiled, and it’s not doing you any good. I’m as much to blame as anyone else. I let you get away with things over the years. I never pointed out when you were being a brat.”
“Because you were my friend!”
Crack!
“I’m not your friend anymore, Briarlee,” he growls down at me as I gasp for air. The way the belt lands against my tender skin hurts like hell. This isn’t hot. I am actually in trouble. I can hear it in his voice. This man who has known me all my life. This man who has fucked me in the back room of a club, and across this very couch. Daniel knows me. He knows me to my core. And that also means he knows what a bad girl I am.
“You’re not my friend?”
“I’m a lot more than that,” he rumbles. “You’re mine now. You’ve always been mine, but I was too nervous to claim you. I let you run around. I let you give this cunt to men who didn’t deserve it…” He runs the belt down between my legs. I feel the leather against my pussy, which is wet as hell. Do I like this? Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. I seem to like everything he does, no matter how sinful, humiliating, or painful it is supposed to be.
What he’s saying touches me somewhere deep. Somewhere I’ve never been touched before. It finds the little closed-off part of me that makes me think I have to do everything alone, and it opens that door.
The belt lands again, three swift cracks across the middle of my ass. He’s giving it to me hard. This isn’t a pretend punishment. He’s not playing. He is dominating me. He is showing me what he knows about me. He is making me understand in a physical way that things are different now.
“Owww! Danny! That hurts!”
Another three strokes land. They hurt. My ass is blazing. My legs are kicking. I want to buck up from the couch, but he keeps one hand on the small of my back and he makes me lie there and feel the pain he is inflicting.
“Breathe, Briarlee,” he says, his voice calm and resonant. “Deep breaths. Good girl.”
I gasp a breath.
“Why? This hurts!”
“You need it to hurt,” he says. “You need to know I mean this. You’ve been throwing your life away out of guilt. That stops today. You don’t have to feel bad for what you did as a drunk fifteen-year-old girl. You don’t have to feel sorry for me anymore.”
The belt lands again, a hot stroke that sets my ass on fire. I shriek, but he keeps holding me there.
“You needed a good spanking back then,” he says. “And you’re getting it now. So you can put that whole event behind you. Alright? You’ve been punished, and more important…”
He eases his grip and helps me stand up, turning me to face him. There are tears in my eyes as I look into his handsome, strong, kind face.
“Most important of all… you’ve been forgiven. For everything.”
I burst into tears against his chest. He drops the belt and holds me close, letting me wet his skin with the misery I have been holding onto all these years. I have never understood why it was him who got hurt, and not me. I have never comprehended why I always seemed to skate through, while Daniel took the brunt of the consequences.
My ass hurts, but my conscience does feel more clear. I feel physically lighter than I have in a long time. As silly as it might seem, having him whip my butt actually makes me feel better.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”
“I’m going to look after you, Briarlee,” he murmurs in my ear. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”
“I know you will.”