Chapter 13
Thirteen
Briana
The world stops. There’s missing time. I don’t know how much. I was screaming into the ball gag, aware that he covered my mouth. I was convulsing as if I’d been shocked by electricity.
It’s over. I think. Though I’m still trembling violently. My teeth are chattering, making me aware that he removed my gag at some point. My arms and legs are also free. I’m curled into a ball on my side. The covers are over me.
I’m crying. Tears keep falling, and I’m trying so hard to suck them down and not make any sounds.
“Shh shh shh…” He’s purring into my ear and rubbing my back. “You’re okay, princess. Daddy’s got you.”
But I’m not okay. I’m not even kind of okay. I’m lost. Ruined. Destroyed. Torn apart. There’s no way anyone will be able to put me back together again. I can’t remember my own name. Or what the hell I’m doing.
His hand feels so nice on my back. Soothing. Calming. And he keeps wiping my face, clearing away my tears, but more fall. I can’t stop them.
I’m wrecked.
Exhausted.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stand up again. How will I go to class tomorrow?
“You need to take a drink of water, princess.” He taps my lips with the straw from my water bottle.
I somehow figure out how to take it between my lips and suck. It’s cold and refreshing. Suddenly, I’m so thirsty that I drink and drink until he takes it away.
Whimpering, I reach out for it. I want more.
“No, princess. That’s enough.” He grabs my hand and tucks it against my chest with my other one. “Enough, princess,” he insists.
That voice… It makes me come to heel. It’s hypnotic. I don’t even know what he might sound like normally because I’m sure he’s disguising his voice, but also, he only ever whispers when I’m with him.
It’s not exactly his voice, then. It’s his tone. The inflection behind his words. My entire body clenches when he gets firm with me. Makes demands.
I feel reprimanded like I’m being naughty. Like I don’t make good choices, and he needs to make them for me. Now is one of those times.
“You’ll make yourself sick if you drink too much, princess.”
Because he knows better than me. He’s smarter or wiser. He always knows. And I’m helpless. I need to listen to him. It’s for my own good. I don’t make good choices. I need his guidance.
I sniffle, chagrined by the fact that I almost drank myself sick. On water. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Shhh… It’s okay, princess. That’s what I’m here for. To help you.” His palm is still rubbing me soothingly. I never want him to stop.
“Do you understand now, pretty girl? Do you see that you’re mine?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whimper.
“Are you ready to accept that I know what’s best for you?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I’m certain he knows what’s best. It seems irrational. Like I’m brainwashed, but some part of me deep inside knows it’s true.
“You were such a good girl today. So obedient. Tomorrow you will be, too. I’ll be harder on you, though. It’s what you need, Briana.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He kisses my temple. “So proud of you.”
I smile and wiggle out a hand to reach for him, finding his wrist. “Can I please see you now?”
“No, princess. Not yet. It’s not time.”
Pushing out my bottom lip, I pout.
He chuckles. “That will never work on me, Briana. Tuck that lip in. Whining and pouting might be cute, but it won’t cause me to give in. The blindfold stays for now.”
“Poop.”
“Naughty girl.” He eases the covers down to my hip.
I frown. “What are you doing?”
“I want to mark you, princess, so when you wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, you’ll think of me.”
I stiffen. What does he mean? He wants to mark me?
He lifts my top arm behind me, pushes my tank up, and kisses my breast on the outside of my nipple. A second later, he sucks hard, holding me down at the same time.
My breath hitches. It hurts. I squirm, trying to escape his torture, but he has me pinned down with both hands, keeping me on my side.
I purse my lips as he continues to suck on my tit, so hard I wince. Finally, he’s done. He releases my breast and kisses the spot. “There we go. That’s going to be an impressive bruise, princess.”
My heart races. My tender skin aches. Instinctively, I reach down to grab the sore spot, but he stops me. “No.” One word. A command. Sharp. Effective. “Let it burn. Don’t rub it. In the morning, you will send me pictures. I want to be able to look at my mark on you throughout the day.”
I bite into my bottom lip. It still hurts.
“You will always wear my mark, pretty girl. When that one fades, I will mark you again. Every few days. Never in the same spot. It will remind you who you belong to.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You need to sleep now, princess.” Another kiss to my temple. He hasn’t kissed me on the lips. When will he do that? Now doesn’t seem like a good time to antagonize him by asking. “Don’t even think of misbehaving when I’m gone. I will always know.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I’m not sure how he would know what I do alone in my room, but I don’t doubt him. I should never underestimate him.
It seems like between one heartbeat and the next, he’s gone. His absence is palpable. I don’t hear my door open or snick shut, but I know he’s gone.
Slowly reaching up, I ease the blindfold off. I’m shaking badly. It’s all I have the energy for. I pull the covers tighter around my shoulders, curl in on myself until I’m a tiny ball, and fall asleep.
Moments later, my alarm goes off. At least that’s what it seems like. It’s not true, though, because the room is bathed in light. He must have opened the blinds before he left because I know I closed them. It’s too bright.
Groaning, I slide out of bed and shuffle toward my alarm because, yes, it’s still too far to reach. My body aches. And my eyes pop out when I see the time.
Seven.
What the fuck?
I don’t need to be up this early. That’s not what time I set the alarm for. My first class is at ten today. I set it for nine.
I’m about to reset it and climb back into bed when my phone pings on my desk.
My shoulders drop as I pad in that direction. It doesn’t surprise me at all to see a text from Daddy.
Daddy: Fill your tub with warm water, add a scoop of the Epsom salt I left on the edge, and soak for thirty minutes.
Keeping my phone in my hand, I turn back to my bed. I need more sleep. I don’t want to get in the bathtub at this hour. I feel grouchy. Another ping makes me groan.
Daddy: Don’t test me, Briana. Bath. Now.
Is he fucking psychic? I stare longingly at my bed. It’s warm and soft and calling to me. It’s not in charge, though.
Why am I obeying a man I’ve never actually seen? Someone who wouldn’t show his face last night when I asked him to?
There’s a war in my head. The naughty side of me is reaching for the covers that are probably still warm. The good girl in me glances toward the bathroom.
Daddy: I don’t like your silence, naughty girl. You have five minutes to send me a picture of you submerged in the water. If I’m not staring at a picture by seven eleven, I will assume you need another spanking tonight to remind you who’s in charge.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I’m on another precipice. Do I obey my stalker or stop this nonsense? I keep facing this reality. I don’t have to do what this stranger tells me. It’s pure madness. He won’t even show himself. That’s a huge red flag.
A chuckle escapes me. Red flag? All I see is red. My life is one giant red flag. If anyone were to find out what I’ve been doing, they would have me committed. My sanity is in question.
I glance at the time. Seven minutes after seven. I only have four minutes to send him the picture. My ass still hurts from the spanking he delivered two nights ago. I can’t take another one, so I run into the bathroom and turn the water on.
“Comeoncomeoncomeon,” I murmur as I hold my hand under it. I’m going to freeze to death in cold water to get the picture if it doesn’t heat up faster.
Finally, I drop the stopper, yank off my tank and panties, grab a scrunchy for my hair, and step into the water. It’s rising. It’s nowhere near high enough yet. But it’s filling.
I grab the bag of Epsom salt, measure a scoop into the water, and lower myself into it. My hands are shaking so badly as I hold the phone up that it’s a wonder I manage to flip the camera and get the selfie. I send it to Daddy right as the time changes to seven eleven.
Jesus… That was close. Naturally, a second later, there’s an incoming text.
Daddy: You hesitated longer than you should have, naughty girl. Who makes the rules?
Holding the phone out of the water, I respond.
Briana: You do, Daddy.
There’s no sense in making excuses. He knows I hesitated because there are only a few inches of water in the tub.
Daddy: Send me another picture every five minutes until seven forty-one.
His message is sharp. I wince. He’s probably angry with me, but I can’t fix that now. All I can do is get my act together and do better. After setting the phone on the edge of the tub, I close my eyes and enjoy the way the warm water envelopes my body as it rises. It feels amazing.
Damn him. He knew I would feel better if I took a bath. He also knew I needed extra time to do so.
I’m almost late sending the next text, and I gasp when I look at the picture before jerking my gaze to my breast. “Holy fuck.” The hickey he gave me is huge. It’s purple. How big is his mouth? The mark is a few inches across. It’s only a centimeter from my nipple.
Daddy: My mark is stunning.
That’s one way to describe it. Barbaric works too. Childish. Possessive.
Also purple.
I’m out of words. Sighing, I stare at the ceiling. Who the fuck am I? I keep asking myself that. I have no answers. I’m sliding deeper and deeper into the most bizarre world. It can’t be real.
I’ve hardly seen my roommates for the past few days. I’ll need to face them and make polite conversation before they get suspicious. I certainly don’t want to explain to anyone that I’m in a deep relationship with one of the fucking freshman prankers.
Madness. Who would believe me?
Another phone ping.