Claimed by the Beast

by Natasha Knight

  “I am sorry I haven’t been here for you and that you needed my brother to…”

  She pulled free and turned away. “Oh my God, can we just not talk about it?” she asked.

  He stood and took hold of her shoulders, forcing her to face him. “He was stepping in for me when I should have been here. He was taking care of you for me.”

  She only looked at him.

  “I want you to know that from now on, I will take care of you, I will be the one to discipline you when you need it and…”

  “Pardon me?” she asked, stepping back and folding her arms across her chest once again.

  Marcus didn’t waver for a moment. This first spanking would be the hardest, he knew that, but they just had to move beyond it. “I’m going to spank you now for disobeying me earlier, Rachel. Take your jeans and panties down and come here,” he said, sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. He could feel her watching him as he flipped through the channels and found a children’s cartoon loud enough to mask the sound of the spanking, of the resistance he expected this first time. He then turned back to her and raised his eyebrows.

  “You’re not spanking me,” she said. He could almost smell how nervous she was.

  “I am. The part you have a say in is where you get to decide how easy or how hard this will go for you.”

  “Marcus, be reasonable,” she began, taking a step back when he took one toward her. She glanced behind her, gauging the little bit of space she had left before she hit the wall, her proximity to the door. He thought of her trying to run for it, of catching her and forcing her over his knee. His cock grew hard at the idea.

  * * *

  Rachel looked at him and he looked back. The thought of him spanking her, she had to admit, was arousing. It was just the fact of it being him disciplining her that she couldn’t wrap her brain around. She felt embarrassed at the thought of it. The image of her bent over his lap with her bottom bare… no, she had to get that one out of her head altogether.

  “Rachel?” he began.

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

  “Here are your choices: you can, in the next few moments, take down your jeans and panties, lay across my lap yourself, and take your punishment. That would be the wise choice. Or you can fight me, have me take down your jeans and panties, have me lay you across my lap, and then take your punishment, which would be more severe. Which do you choose?”

  Every nerve in her body tingled, her stomach tensed, and her heart pounded while her clit throbbed as she stood there looking up at him, fully aware that in a few moments time, she was going to get a bare bottom spanking whether she liked it or not.

  She glanced at his giant hands and knew instantly that she would not.

  “Marcus?” she asked, her throat dry. Tears began to fall from her eyes and he moved in, hugging her to him.

  “Shh,” he said, rubbing her back. “Let’s get this over with. You’re a good girl, Rachel.” He pulled her along, rubbing her back the entire time. This was so different than when Elijah had spanked her; this was Marcus, the man she loved, the man she hoped one day to have children with. The only man she could imagine herself with.

  She didn’t put up a fight when he sat down on the couch and set her between his knees, still holding her hands and looking at her. But when he reached for the waistband of her jeans, she grabbed his hands, trying to push them off.

  “Let me go!” she called out.

  He gripped her harder. “This is happening Rachel. Be still.”

  “No, it’s not!” she said, trying to slap his hands away but failing as he tugged both her jeans and her panties down just a little ways. She tried pushing at his shoulders but he was too strong and she was unable to free herself from his grip. “No!” she yelled once more, desperate as he pulled her down across his lap.

  “Let me go!” she called out, twisting and turning, trying to fight him, which was useless given his size and strength on top of her position. “I’m not ready!”

  He pulled her closer, gripping her to him by her waist with a strength she knew he had but had never before felt.

  “Shh, be still, Rachel. You’ll never be ready for your first spanking. This is happening now.”

  “Why?” she called out as with his free hand, he tugged her jeans farther down to fully expose her bottom and thighs. “Please!” she said, kicking when he trapped her hands at her low back and swung one leg over the backs of hers, pinning her to him.

  “Don’t make this harder,” he said. “Last chance.”

  “Screw you!” she yelled, using everything she had to twist away but failing.

  One hard smack landed, forcing her to be still.

  “Oh, God. Marcus!”

  “Shh,” he said, his hand on her bare bottom, rubbing a circle before it was gone and then back again with that same sound that echoed round the room. Now she knew why he had turned the TV on! Once the sound of his hand slapping her bottom faded away, the pain registered and she clenched her legs and bottom together and resumed her battle with him.

  He slapped again, her right cheek this time and with this one, she exhaled a small cry. He struck again, alternating from one side to the next without any break for what seemed like an eternity, although as she unconsciously counted, she was up to thirty strokes before he paused and began rubbing circles all over her bottom. Her heart was racing and tears wet the cushion her face rested against.

  “Are you ready to take your punishment now?” he asked, stilling his hand on her bottom.

  “Isn’t it over?” she asked, talking into the cushion, unable and unwilling to look back at him.

  He chuckled. “No,” he said. “If you’re good and don’t struggle, we’ll do another thirty and it will be over. If not, I’ll stop when we’ve hit sixty more.”

  “Sixty?” she asked, unable to fathom another thirty, much less sixty!

  “Sixty,” he repeated.

  This was happening too fast. She couldn’t process but she knew thirty was the much better option and somehow managed to relax her legs.

  “Marcus?” she asked, just able to turn her face and meet his eyes.

  He smiled and rubbed her low back. “It’s just you and me Rachel.”

  She turned her face back into the pillow with a small nod, closing her eyes, wanting to hide.

  “Good girl, Rachel,” he said, “stay just as you are, keep your bottom soft, and count them for me.”

  He wanted her to count? “Ow!” she called out when he struck. He caressed for a moment then struck again on the same cheek.

  “Count. Out loud,” he said.

  “Two,” she managed, her voice panicked. It was then she realized the hardness her belly was pressed against wasn’t his thighs. He was enjoying this! He was turned on by it! “Three, four, five,” she continued, each time exhaling a breath, a grunt. She closed her eyes when he paused, anticipating each spank, counting each one. The ones at the crease between her bottom and her thighs were the worst, and she was grateful every time one of the thirty was over.

  “Unclench for me,” he said. “Stay soft.”

  She hadn’t realized she had tightened her muscles and glanced back over her shoulder for a moment, watching his face as he waited, his eyes on his mark, his hand rubbing a slow circle. Fifteen to go, she could do this. She turned her face back into the cushion and softened.

  “Good girl, punishment is almost over,” he said. The last fifteen came hard and fast and he seemed to focus on the area that hurt the most.

  Once she called out the last number, she exhaled, her body going limp. He released her wrists and she took them to her face while he caressed her bottom. After a few moments, he lifted her to sit on his lap but she couldn’t look at him. Instead, she buried her face in his shoulder.

  “It’s over,” he said. “First spanking is over.”

  She clung to him, trying to make herself smaller as he wrapped one arm around her.

/>   “You’re okay, Rachel,” he said. “It’s okay.”

  She pushed her face deeper into him as tears came. It seemed as though she couldn’t stop crying and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get close enough to him.

  After a while, he forced her face up with both hands. Wiping her tears with his thumbs, he kissed her hard, his eyes still open looking into hers, while he rose to his feet, lifting her with him. She kissed him back and he laid her down, still kissing her while undoing his jeans. When he’d freed his cock, he tried to push her legs apart but her jeans were still around her ankles. He let out a groan of frustration when she reached for him, wanting him. He flipped her onto her belly and lifted her by her hips so she knelt at the edge of the bed. He then pulled her bottom cheeks apart and in the next instant, thrust his cock deep inside her pussy. He fucked her hard, harder than he had last night. Reaching a hand to take her clit in one hand, he held her tight with the other. The heat of her spanked bottom coupled with the heat of her wet pussy. His fingers roughly rubbed her clit, stretched it while their combined moans filled the room and her pussy clenched around his throbbing cock as he pumped his seed into her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Who, or perhaps the better question is what do you think could have done this, Professor?” Lawler asked.

  Lance ignored him, knowing what he referred to with his statement, sensing the danger just behind the other man’s words. He surveyed the damage to the basement door as if inspecting it for the first time, then tried to keep from tearing down the stairs to his lab. Lawler followed him down, a few paces behind until his phone rang.

  “Sir,” Lawler answered, turning to go back up the stairs but not before Lance caught the expression on his face.

  Lance figured it must be Dennison on the other end of the phone but needed to take advantage of the time alone in his lab, which looked in no better condition than the rest of his house. Shattered glass covered most of the countertop as well as the floor. The refrigerator door was open and if there had been anything that he had not destroyed during his fit as the creature, it was gone now. Long gone, mostly likely on its way to Dennison’s labs.

  “Shit,” he said, scanning the space. He went to his desk to find the drawers emptied, all of his notes gone, only his computer’s monitor remaining where it was, cords dangling from it, connected to nothing.

  “It’s a real mess here,” Lawler said, his drawl exaggerated, even more annoying now.

  Lance fisted his hands and took a deep breath before turning to face him. “Where is my computer?” he asked.

  “Oh, that you don’t have to worry about. It’s on its way to our labs in Philadelphia. You’ll have access to it there. There were a few vials, the only things left in the refrigerator. We have those safely heading to Wayne Labs as well. In fact, that was Dr. Dennison on the phone,” he said, walking over to where the mattress lay on the ground, the coffee stain on it, the little bit of red, the blood that remained. He thought for a moment of the girl. Rachel. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her. Guilt made him turn away when Lawler picked up the handcuffs.

  “What were you up to down here, Professor?” he asked, smiling a crooked smile and winking as if they were old friends.

  “The samples needed to remain refrigerated,” he said, ignoring the man who dropped the cuffs back onto the mattress.

  “We’ve taken care of everything, Professor. No need to worry. Would you like to pack a few things to take with you? I realize you were not planning on traveling for a while to our labs, but given the condition of things here, I’m not sure you have a choice anymore.”

  He had one vial of serum at the university. He remembered that. It had been one he had left behind some weeks back. He hadn’t been sure if it was a good idea at the time. Now he was glad for it.

  “I’ve got my work at the university to consider, Mr. Lawler. I told Dr. Dennison it wouldn’t be possible for me to travel for a few weeks. Although I appreciate you taking care of my things,” he began through clenched teeth. They’d stolen from him but given the circumstances, best to play along. “I’ll have to ask you to return them to me until I’m able to travel.”

  “I’m sorry, Professor,” Lawler said, any hint of a smile, as fake as it had been, gone from his face. “But I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I think we should get going. I’ll have one of my men pack a bag for you and follow along, but your work, Professor, it’s important. You won’t need that university job when this drug goes on the market. In fact, you’ll likely be sitting pretty in the Bahamas in a few months’ time, all your efforts having paid off, the knowledge of how many lives you’re saving keeping you company.” He smiled again, just a small movement of the mouth, something that didn’t change the overall expression of his face. “Ready to go? Dr. Dennison has invited you to stay at his home. You’re a lucky man,” he carried on, gesturing to the stairs.

  Lance walked toward them, spying the man waiting upstairs for him.

  “He’s got a swimming pool there, some good looking women working for him, if you know what I mean,” he said, winking again. It turned Lance’s stomach. “Anything you can think of will be delivered to you. Anything you want.”

  Which translated meant he would be a prisoner in the house while working to perfect the drug. Which also meant he would likely be under surveillance 24/7. He walked slowly up the stairs, knowing he had no choice. If he could call the beast forth, he would do it now and kill Lawler with his bare hands. But how many others would have to die in the meantime?

  “I’ll just grab my phone and my wallet,” he said.

  “Certainly,” Lawler said, turning away to say something into his mouthpiece which all of the men wore.

  Lance slipped his cell phone and wallet into his pocket.

  “A few of our men will get this place cleaned up for you so your house will be ready for your return.”

  As soon as he said it, some part of Lance knew he wouldn’t be returning here ever again.

  “Thank you,” he managed as a wave of pain momentarily blocked his vision. It was gone as quickly as it came so he didn’t think Lawler had noticed, and this was a different pain than would come when he shifted. This was the first layer, it would be hours—or at least that had been the pattern in the past—before the more severe pain would come and he would shift into the creature. He wondered where he would be when that happened.

  * * *

  “He’s in trouble,” Rachel said, suddenly awake.

  Marcus glanced at her. She looked over at him, realizing she had fallen asleep while they had been driving. They’d left the hotel early and with ten hours to go until they reached his house, Marcus had insisted on driving through the day. He had only stopped to pick up lunch at a fast food restaurant and wouldn’t let her behind the wheel no matter how much she insisted.

  “You sure it wasn’t a dream?” he asked.

  She flipped the visor open and glanced at her reflection, combing her fingers through her hair and rubbing her face. She hadn’t worn make up, needed a shower, and most of all, was desperate to brush her teeth.

  “No,” she said. “It wasn’t a dream.”

  “What did you hear exactly?”

  “It was more a feeling. He was afraid and then angry. It was different than the last times though. It was more clear, more human in a way.”

  “You can only hear us when we shift, right?” Marcus asked.

  She nodded.

  “What do you mean then, ‘more human’?” he asked.

  “I don’t know exactly, it was just… different somehow. More clear—that’s the only way I can say it.”

  Marcus didn’t say anything for a minute. “Could you communicate with him?”

  “I didn’t try. It was the thought that woke me up and then it was gone.”

  “You were asleep, Rachel. Maybe it was just a dream?”

  She looked at him and shook her head.

  “We’re about t
en minutes from my house. Let’s get home, get out of the car, stretch our legs. I’ll call Elijah and we’ll get the next step of the plan coordinated. I’d like to stay here as long as possible rather than running, but I’m not sure that will be possible.”

  Rachel looked around her, more than curious at where he had been living the last year. “What are you thinking we’re going to do?” she asked.

  “Well, the way I’m looking at this is we’ve got two problems: Lance Weston is one and Wayne Labs is the other.”

  “I just want to say one thing about Lance. I know he kidnapped me and who knows what he would have done if you hadn’t come in time, but I know he didn’t want to hurt me. I know it, Marcus. He is sick himself. He was trying to do something good. And maybe if I gave him an egg, maybe he could do the research he needed…”

  “What are you talking about?” Marcus asked, pulling the car to the side of the road.

  She looked at him, realizing what she was saying.

  “He said he was out of samples. He was going to take an egg. I don’t know how this works but he wanted to use stem cells for research, create what he needed, fix the serum so he wouldn’t shift anymore, and then market the drug to cure Parkinson’s.”

  Marcus inhaled a breath loud enough for her to hear. His lips tightened. “He would make a specimen out of you,” he said. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking he is a good man, Rachel. He is evil, just like the rest of them.”

  She searched his eyes, seeing them shut down a little and realizing what she had said probably had triggered emotions and memories from those eight years when those scientists had done just that—used him and Collin as specimens. Taking what they needed, keeping them prisoner, killing the family.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to touch his hand. “I understand.”

  He only nodded and turned away, pulling the car onto the road. The next sound she heard was one he couldn’t hear. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned to look out the window.

  “What is it?” he asked, not missing what was happening.