Page 21 of Beautifully Forgiven

Doesn’t help my cock seems to think for himself.

It’s like he’s a soldier drafted to war, except the war he’s going to is fighting with the man he's attached to about where he wants to spend his nights. The one cozy place he hasn’t been in a very long time.

I know I threaten Savannah all the time, but I need her to fear me. She needs to see the evil inside me. This can only end one way.

I’m not the same man I was before my girls.

I hate knowing that instead of the pain I want to inflict on her, all I want to do is worship her and spare her life.

But I know I can't because she needs to be punished for her father’s sins. He needs to pay with his daughter.

She is the target. I need to start thinking of my girls and what he did, not with my cock who can’t seem to stay down for one fucking second whenever I’m near her.

Grabbing the burner phone I use, I send a line to the man I know who is right now searching for the one thing he thought no one knew about.

She’s going to look so good on her knees for me.

* * *

Savannah eyes me like she’s sizing me up. The corner of my mouth lifts knowing she has no chance, her failed attempts are proof she’ll never get away from me.

“I’d reconsider if I were you, kitten?”

She moves and throws herself at me, screaming as she digs something into the side of my neck. I hiss as the sharp object digs into my flesh. Savannah wraps her legs around my torso while her arm comes around my neck, holding herself to me.

Gripping her leg, I swing my body hard forcing her to unlatch from me. She collides with the floor with a thud, groaning as I place my foot on her chest, forcing my weight down to hold her in place.

“Stupid girl,” I snarl. Grabbing my neck, I yank the nail free, throwing it outside the door, and hearing it clink as it hits the floor.

“You’ll pay for that, kitten.”

“I’m not paying for anything, you asshole,” she yells.

“With actions come consequences, Savannah, and you just earned yours.”

“Fuck you.” She curses me.

It takes me two long steps to reach her. Wrapping my fingers around her throat and lifting her into the air, her feet dangle under her as she gasps, struggling to catch her breath as I look up at her.

“Are you going to keep disobeying me?”

She struggles for air, and her fingers scratch at my hand as she begins to turn purple. It would be so easy to end it now, take her life.

My fingers open, dropping her to the floor where her hands cling to her neck as she gasps catching her breath.

“I’m going to enjoy punishing you for that, kitten.”

* * *

The nightmares plagued me last night and have put me in a foul mood like I need to tear someone to pieces. My fingers spread out over the bench as I stare down at the ground.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

When I get like this, there’s no stopping me. I need to inflict pain on others or I end up with a gun to my head ready to pull the trigger. Usually this is where I kill someone who deserves it, a rapist, a deadbeat husband who beats on his wife, or find some unwilling soul to take my anger out on. It's never been hard for me to take someone’s life. It's what I was trained to do, it's who I am. But after my wife and daughter were taken right in front of me, it’s become an urge I can’t cleanse. It never goes away. Maybe it’s because when I came home to them, I locked that part of me away. It never touched them not until that day. That’s my usual go to way of releasing that pent up tension, or I hate fuck some hooker I’ve picked up off the street. I never hurt them like I do the others, but I don’t make love to them and I’m not gentle when I do, it’s hard, fast, and I punish them. I love seeing the life nearly drain from their eyes. I know why I’m the way I am, and I hate who I’ve become and what I crave, but the evil inside renders me helpless until it’s set free. Only when I’ve released do I let them go. I’m fucked up, I know, and now my little kitten will feel the first taste of my wrath.

I hear her moving around in her room, and I know what I have to do. She’ll hate me after, but it’s better than killing her slowly and sending a body part to her dear father. That was my plan all along, but I know she doesn’t deserve my wrath, not like that. This wrath though there is no stopping it.

I walk toward the door and unlock every lock slowly so she knows to prepare for me. When I enter, she’s sitting by the wall on her knees looking all kinds of delicious. The chain is firmly in place giving her just enough space to move around. The top she has on hangs over one shoulder, and she freezes as if she hadn’t heard me come in. Her legs are bare like she’d removed the pants I’d given her.

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