She wondered where these feelings came from; the feeling of wanting to rip things apart, to throw things, to break things. She could feel it, a crushing, tight sensation in her chest. Her breathing was choppy and uneven. Her hands curled into fists, the long nails digging into her palms, and she took several long, deep breaths. It didn't help.
She knew he was coming over soon. She both wanted him there and wanted to be alone. She knew that she would not be able to hide the way she felt. He knew her so well. He could gauge her emotions so easily, sometimes with just a quick glance at her face.
As she paced around the living room, she could feel her body heating up. Her thoughts were racing, and she was trying to sort through the myriad of emotions surging inside herself. She felt angry, frustrated, lonely, and a deep sense of not having any control over her own life. Friends made plans, then broke them. The harder she worked at her job, the busier it got. Some of her friends were married, and unavailable at a moment's notice due to family obligations. She felt at the whim of everyone else in the world, that nothing was her decision, that nothing ever happened at her desire or need.
Suddenly remembering a conversation he and she had once, about a Dom ripping or cutting his sub's clothing off with a knife. It was a symbol of a new beginning, a way for her to let go of old baggage. She dashed into the bedroom and pulled out an old dress that had seen better days, the colors faded and washed out. She dug through her underwear drawer, found an old pair, and a bra. She threw off her clothes, and put the others on. She hoped he would remember the conversation when he realized what she was wearing.
Just as she slid the dress over her head and smoothed it down, she heard his car drive up. She went and stood in the living room, her feet and legs bare, and tried to steady herself. She wanted so much right then; so much it was like a fever burning inside her.
He came in the door, his eyes traveling over her body, finally settling on her face. She could almost hear his thoughts clicking rapidly. She watched him studying her. She knew the exact second he understood, and they stared at each other for a long moment. She felt her hands curling into fists again, her body preparing itself.
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.
Taking a deep breath, she said, "Yes."
She started to back away from him, suddenly unsure, but he gave her no opportunity to run. Quickly, he came across the few feet separating them, and grasped the front of the dress in his big hand. His other hand gripped her hair, and he held her there, staring into her eyes.
"So, you want to fight, my little pet?" he asked her.
She could only nod helplessly, his hands holding her body captive. He knew what she wanted. She wanted to kick, and claw, and scream, and vent her frustration at the world. He understood her frustration, her anger, her deep need for reassurance and love, her need to feel beautiful and desired. But underneath it all, he knew that she wanted to be shown that he was stronger than her, that he could control her.
He gripped her hair tighter, and moved his mouth next to her ear. "Go ahead, girl."
