Dark Desires Unleashed Pt. 01

"Don't worry Hun; I will be just fine. Go enjoy your retreat with your friends, I'll hold the fort down." I said to my wife as she stepped out of the front door of our boring two-story white suburban house. She struggled to get out the door as she had two huge designer bags clutched in one hand and the other hand gripping the handle of an overstuffed designer suitcase.

"Are you sure you can handle her? You two have never seen eye to eye on anything ever since she turned fourteen." My wife said with worry-stricken lines creasing her forehead.

"None-sense baby, we will be fine. I'll even bet that you will be shocked when you return after your weekend and find us bonding over a movie or something." I joked, stepping forward and gently kissing her forehead to try and make her feel slightly at ease. She had been looking forward to this trip for months, working overtime at her job to make sure she had extra spending money and getting a complete makeover the previous day so she could look her absolute best. After all that hard work, plus the months of trying to convince her to go on this trip to begin with, I would be damned if I was going to let our brat of a daughter ruin it for her.

"I doubt that babe, but okay just don't push her too hard. I don't want the cops called to our house again." My wife leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the lips, her bags and luggage making the normally sweet exchange quite difficult.

I stood in the doorway as she threw her things into the back of her Mazda before climbing into the driver's seat. She fiddled with several things on the dashboard, probably setting up the GPS and her music, before she waved goodbye, backed out of the driveway, and drove off down the street. The smile I had on my face turned to a frown the instant that I knew she could no longer see me in her rearview mirror. I let out a long and exasperated sigh as reality came crashing down on me and hung my head low, knowing that this weekend was going to be hell.

I stepped back inside our house, slamming the front door behind me in frustration and heading straight to the kitchen to make a strong drink. My wife was right, our daughter has become a royal pain in the ass over the last four years. When she was a kid, she was the sweetest and the most loveable person you could ever wish to meet, however, when she began to get into her teenage years that all changed. It seemed like every birthday she made a promise to herself to be more of a bitch to everyone than she was the year before, and God knows that she kept those promises. From yelling and screaming matches with myself and her mom to full-blown fist fights at school with boys, girls, and her teachers. In the three years she spent in high school she had been suspended fifteen times and expelled from her original high school. We had to bail her out of jail twice and take her to urgent care on numerous occasions when someone would finally stand up to her and put her in her place.

Now, before you get yourself worked up. No, I do not wish harm to my daughter, she is my kid, and I would still do anything I can to protect and help her. However, some days I wish I could just reach out and smack some sense into her thick skull and get her to open her eyes and realize what she is doing to the people around her. Alas, that is referred to as assault so I will not be doing that anytime soon. That being said, I would be lying to you if I said that I still had hope and patience for her and her ability to get herself onto the right path once again. It seems the days of my sweet little innocent angel are long gone and now I am left with an angry and violent version of her.

"She'll be home soon, might as well get a buzz going before the inevitable screaming match," I said as I slumped down on the couch with my glass of whiskey, a strong sense of tension in the air surrounding me. It had been a long week at work, almost seventy hours in five days, so I am genuinely looking forward to this weekend even if it is just myself and my daughter home. I cannot remember the last time my wife and I had been apart like this, usually, vacations were spent as a family, but I felt like this would do us some good.

Our daughters' rebellious attitude and violent outbursts have begun to take a toll on our marriage. We have been arguing more often, going days without speaking and even going as far as sleeping in separate rooms when we were unable to come to a solution with each other. I had really begun to hate how much our daughter was driving a wedge between us. I married my wife because I love her to death, and I mean that. I have never found someone who fits with me so perfectly while still pushing me to expand my comforts and grow. I had hoped that our daughter would inherit these qualities from her mother, but that did not happen. So, when I told my wife that she may be surprised to find us bonding when she returned, I was not lying. I had come up with a plan to correct my daughter's horrid behavior or I would be kicking her out by the end of the weekend. All I needed to do was wait for her to get home, which should be any minute now.

A rush of anxiety flooded my entire body when I heard the lock on the front door click and the neglected door hinges cry as the door opened into the house. There was a moment of stillness and silence that enveloped the house, the smell of freshly cut grass wafting in through the open door, before it was shattered by the sound of the solid wooden door slamming shut with enough force to shake the walls of the house. Anger began to replace the anxiety when the sound of dramatic stomping began to approach the living room where I was sitting, my fingers gripping the now empty whiskey glass with enough force to turn my knuckles white. I knew the flurry of swearing and screaming was coming straight for me, but this time I was not going to back down. Today was the worst day she could choose to start an argument. Her mom was not here to stop me from putting an end to her bitchy ways.

"Well look what we have here, Mom's only been gone for a couple hours and you're already into the whiskey. You're fucking pathetic." Marrisa said with a snappy tone as she walked by me, barely even bothering to look at me for longer than a couple seconds. Her black heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she stormed her way into the kitchen, her strong-scented perfume trailing in the air behind her. I watched as she yanked the fridge door open and bent down, her skintight black jeans hugging the curves of her body like they were painted on. However, my blood began to boil when she stood back up holding one of her mom's favorite boxes of chocolate in her hands.

"Please put the chocolates back, you know your mom buys those for herself and only herself." My teeth clenched together as I tried to hide the rage growing in my body, knowing that any anger I showed toward her would escalate the situation rapidly.

She used her left foot to close the fridge door behind her, leaving a deep scratch in the white paint as the pointed part of her heel scraped across it. Her eyes shifted from the open box and looked directly at me, a malicious smile stretching across her face. "But she's not home and you're not man enough to stop me," she said, her eyes burning into my soul as she brought the piece of chocolate to her lips and took a slow and deliberate bite. She chewed slowly, closing her eyes with satisfaction from the delicately sweet taste of the German chocolate.

I stood from the couch with anger prevalent in my eyes and body language. "I said put the fucking chocolate back Marrisa. That means now, not when you fucking please." I snapped, beginning to walk around the coffee table with the full intention of snatching the box from her hands. I know it sounds stupid, all of this over a box of chocolate that is easily replaceable but that is not the point. The fact that she thinks she runs this house, that she can defy her parents and do whatever she wants is what pisses me off the most. She may be eighteen, but she still needs to respect that she shares this home with other people whether we are her parents or not. That means there are rules she has to abide by and if she cannot even manage that then it is time that she finds a place of her own.

Her eyes snapped open in a split second, fire burning around her bright green irises, and set the box of chocolate down on the counter softly but continued to nibble on the piece she still had in her hand. "Or what? Are you going to ground me again? Lock me in my room until I learn my lesson? Or are you going to hit me to teach me a lesson?" She took another slow bite of the chocolate, making a show of how much she was enjoying it as she let out a fake moan-like sound. "These are really good by the way; you should try some." She picked the box back up from the counter and held it out towards me, daring me to join her.

"ENOUGH!" I screamed, my hand shooting out and slapping the open box of chocolates from her hand. The box hit the floor with enough force to scatter pieces of chocolate all over the kitchen floor, but I kept my eyes locked on Marrisa's. I did not plan on confronting her this quickly, but I did not want to deal with this shit all weekend and then try to solve it before my wife walked through the door. "I have fucking had enough of your shit! Your attitude, your bitchy comments, and your complete lack of giving a fuck about me or your mom. I am done with all of it!" I ranted, my rage bowling over as spit began to fly from my mouth with every word I yelled. "You're going to fix this retched attitude right here and right now. Or else." The last two words came out as a growl, my throat vibrating from the low and aggressive tone.

Marrisa stared at me, not in shock or disbelief, but in amusement. This is not the first time I have snapped and yelled at her, so she probably thought these were just more empty threats, but I am not playing this time. "You won't do a fucking thing old man, now get out of my face." Her voice was calm, almost too calm for the situation at hand, and if she was feeling any anger or rage, she did not show it. Instead, she slowly reached her right hand up and placed it on my chest. She pushed her hand against me lightly at first, trying to get me to take a couple steps back, but when I did not budge an inch, she pressed harder until almost all of her weight was leaning against me.

Now, Marrisa is a rather small girl at only five foot five inches and maybe one hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, but that does not mean she is weak. She has a rather toned athletic body type from years of playing volleyball. She always prided herself on how well she took care of her body, working out constantly and eating fairly healthily resulting in her being surprisingly stronger than you would expect just by looking at her. However, she was nowhere near strong enough to move my two hundred- and twenty-pound six-foot one inch frame unless I let her, and I was not going to do that this time. This time I am going to stand my ground and not back down to her temper tantrum.

"I said," Her voice strained as she pushed against me harder, her pointed heels beginning to slide backward on the hardwood floor, "Get out of my face." She gave one last push, but her footing failed her, and her hand slipped down my chest as she fell toward the floor. Now, I could have reached out and caught her rather easily before her body connected with the floor, but instead, I took two steps backward and watched her hit the ground. Luckily, she did not hit her head, but it did look fairly painful as her elbows and knees connected with the ground resulting in a sickening thud that reverberated through the kitchen.

A small groan of pain left her mouth as she began to pick herself back up, moving slowly at first but quickly finding her feet and standing back up. Her eyes are once again fixed on mine and the expression on her face is unmistakable. She was mad, no she was furious, and it was about to be directed solely at me. "You fucking did that on purpose you piece of shit. I outta kick you in your fucking balls for that one, better yet I should just..." Her words were cut short as my open hand connected with her cheek and the sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the kitchen.

I have never, and I do mean never, hit Marrisa in any fashion. Not accidentally while roughhousing around, I never spanked her when she was young, and I never resorted to violence when she had her outbursts, and the look of shock on Marrisa's face reflected that very fact. I had only slapped her hard enough to get her to quit screaming as I had no intention of actually hurting her, but it had the opposite effect that I should have seen coming. It did not snap her to her senses or get her to calm down but rather it only fueled her rage further.

"You fucking hit me." She said plainly and I watched a mix of emotions race across her face as she lifted her right hand up to her cheek and felt the red flesh where my hand had connected. First, shock and then a slight hint of happiness before finally settling on rage. "You fucking hit me! You're going to pay for that old man!" In an instant Marrisa rushed toward me, her heels slamming into the floor as her body connected against mine and we slammed into the wall behind us. Her hands began to swing wildly, connecting against my chest, shoulders, stomach, and occasionally my head. She was not exactly punching or slapping me, it was just as I said, she was just swinging randomly trying to hit any part of me she could to inflict some sort of pain. A couple times her hands landed on a rather sensitive spot and a jolt of pain would course through my body but other than that her hits were not doing anything but piss me off further.

"Marrisa, stop!" I said as I attempted to grab ahold of her arms but failed. She continued to swing, oblivious that I had even said anything. Her only intention was to hurt me and that was it, but I had had enough of this whole encounter and was ready to put an end to it once and for all. In a swift and calculated movement, I gripped her by her shoulders and spun her around so she was facing away from me. Once that was done, and long before she could react, I wrapped my arms around her stomach and pulled her into a bear hug before picking her up off the floor. A shrill scream pierced my ears as her entire body started to thrash around as she tried to free herself, but I had my arms locked together tightly.

"Let me fucking go!" She began to pound her fists into my arms and drive the points of her heels into my shins just below my knee. Pain radiated through my body with every hit she would get on me and I could feel small trickles of blood begin to run down my legs from where her pointed heels had removed the skin. However, I kept my grip on her and just stood still, not sure what to do now that I had her somewhat under control but then a lightbulb turned on in my head. With a smile on my face, I began to walk towards the couch in the living room, carrying my squirming and wildly thrashing daughter with me. "What the fuck are you doing! Put me down right now or so help me I will fucking murder you!"

"If you want to throw a temper tantrum like a fucking toddler then I will treat you like one," I grunted out as I approached the couch, my arms starting to burn from the constant strain of holding her writhing body off of the ground. She continued struggling but it was in vain as I spun both of us around in front of the couch. I began to lean back to sit down on the couch as I tried my best to keep Marrisa under control, which was proving to be slightly more difficult than I had originally thought. However, after almost a minute of struggling and several hits to my balls, I managed to get her in the position that I needed. I had her body splayed across my lap, her head down on the couch cushions, and her waist resting between my legs. I gripped the back of her neck with my left hand and pushed her face deeper into the couch cushion before raising my right hand high in the air.

"Are you fucking crazy, this is God damn assault!" She screamed out, potentially loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but I did not care.

"Not crazy, just fed up. So, now I am going to do something I should have done years ago. Maybe if I had you wouldn't have turned out to be such a fucking bitch." My words were cold and seemed to have the intended effect as her body stopped moving around for just a brief moment. But, before she could try to berate or scream at me again, my hand came down and connected with her left ass cheek. The sound of my hand connecting with her ass was quickly drowned out by the ear-splitting scream that left my daughter's mouth. It was not a scream of anger, shock, or outrage but rather a genuine scream of pain. I had not held back like I did when I slapped her face, I had used as much force as I could manage. Now, I will admit that it feels weird to be spanking my eighteen-year-old daughter's ass like she is a bratty toddler, if not borderline inappropriate, but it honestly felt like my last option at this point.

"Did you just fucking spank...." Marrisa started to say but stopped to let out another cry of pain as my hand connected once again with her left ass cheek. She began to struggle and squirm on my lap, trying to free herself but I just pushed her head down harder into the couch cushions and continued to bring my right hand down over and over again on her ass. Every smack elicited a cry of pain and caused her ass to jiggle from the energy transferring from my hand to the supple flesh of her ass cheek. I had found myself beginning to enjoy what I was doing. The lovely crescendo of my hand connecting with her ass and the muffled scream like music to my ears.

After about fifteen hits to the exact same spot on the same ass cheek, her cries of pain and attempts to free herself began to stop. At one point she had attempted to move her arms behind her back to cover her ass, but due to the position I had her in she was unable to reach. "This is what happens from now on. You want to act like a fucking bitch to your mother and myself than you will get treated like one. I have proven by now that I can restrain you with relative ease so don't believe for one fucking second that I will not do this again. Understood?" I said as I brought my hand down one last time, a stinging pain now beginning to radiate through my palm. Her body jolted with the last hit, her back arching slightly and a muffled groan escaping from the couch cushion, but she did not speak.

"Do you fucking understand me or not bitch?" I asked, once again, and watched as her body reacted to a slap that did not come. My hand was still raised in the air, but I had stopped myself from bringing it down on her ass as something had occurred to me. This was no longer discipline, this had turned into something else. My pent-up anger and rage toward Marissa had come out in full force and I was losing control of my own body by feeding into it. I looked up at my hand and saw that red splotches covered it from the constant contact against the rough fabric of her jeans. A strange feeling coursed through my body as I stared down at my daughter, her body shaking from the pain I had put her through, and muffled whimpers could be heard escaping from the thick couch cushion. However, this was not a feeling of regret or embarrassment, this was something else that I have never felt before in my life, and I was not sure exactly what this feeling was or what to make of it.

Before I could put my finger on exactly what I was feeling, Marissa spoke in a soft and defeated tone. "I understand Daddy.... Please, I can't take anymore." A jolt of anxiety shocked my body as her words worked their way into my brain. It was not anxiety about the fact that I probably went too far, it was anxiety because I could feel butterflies beginning to form in the pit of my stomach and work their way toward my pelvis. This feeling I knew very well, it was the same feeling I got the first time my wife and I had sex. As this feeling registered in my brain and I understood just how wrong it was it was already too late as I could feel my cock begin to stiffen in my boxers.