Possession

Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs,

Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes,

Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears.

What is it else? A madness most discreet,

A choking gall and a preserving sweet.

William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 1.1

***

It had been about two weeks since they had last seen each other. He had tried calling her several times, but she would just stare at the screen and wait until the theme song ceased. Finally she shut her cell phone off. He had sent her e-mails, but she made sure they landed in her spam folder. Eventually he had turned up at her door, but she changed the lock so that his spare key wouldn't fit anymore. Then she had found a reserve of strength and had made her last decision.

***

My heart is ever at your service, my Lord.

William Shakespeare, Timon of Athens, 1.2

***

This is harder than I thought,

she realized when she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and examined the black leather collar that was delicately slung around her neck. It had been custom made for her, so it fit snugly, sitting upon her collar bone as though this was where it belonged. With shaky fingers she touched the silver D-ring attached to it. Countless times had he curled his forefinger around it to pull her closer to him so that he could claim her mouth, or put the leash on it so he could control her, giving him the perfect chance to do all sort of wicked things to her. Countless times had he sat on her couch when she came home from work, gestured for her to come closer and clasped the soft leather band around her throat. It served as a symbol for his power over her and her devotion to him.

Slowly she traced along its surface until her fingertips felt the buckle in her neck. She had never taken it off before. It had always been him that put it on when he came and only him who decided when he would remove it. Occasionally he would make her wear it in public and go to work wearing it, only allowing a thin scarf to cover it.

That last time they had seen each other he had decided that she would have to wear it for a little longer and went without taking it off. She had worn a silk scarf over it for the past two weeks, explaining at work that she had a sore throat. She hadn't let him meet her again, but some odd feeling of obedience in her had prevented her from removing it herself.

The metal felt cold and hard as she slipped the leather end through the clasp. The band fell into her hands, suddenly a cold foreign object. She eyed it, warily cupping it in her palm. She had never before had the chance to study it so closely, he had always immediately stuffed it away when he had removed it and taken it with him. Now though her fingers felt along the soft patent leather, toyed with the ring at the front and then closed the buckle. It seemed small, too small as that it would be able to sit comfortably, though she knew otherwise.

For a moment she felt unsure, fumbling around with the necklace, and let it drop into the sink. She couldn't bring herself to chuck it away, she just couldn't. It felt like betrayal even having taken it off.

Softly she touched her throat; the skin tingled with the unknown sensation of contact where previously the fabric of the collar had been. She felt weirdly liberated. Wearing it had felt like his phantom hand had constantly been grasped around her neck. He had always been present in her mind, secretly reminding her that the pressure of the collar on her throat could be his hands, controlling her every breath.

She inhaled deeply and assessed her reflection in the mirror: Blonde hair, green eyes, straight nose, pink lips. Quite pretty but far from being anything special, she figured. The collar had given her a shape, it had identified her. With its safe hold she had felt as though he was with her and nothing could endanger her.

She had a last look at the necklace lying forlornly and accusingly in the sink. "So, that's it. It's over." she mumbled to herself and went to bed, alone.

***

"Four legs and two voices; a most delicate monster!"

William Shakespeare, The Tempest, 2.2

***

The note he had left on her front door was doubtlessly able to curdle her blood. Although it only consisted of some words furiously scribbled down, his commanding tone was almost audible through the paper.

Each and every muscle in her body was tensed up as she rang his doorbell. Nervously she fumbled with the sleeve of her grey shirtdress and thought about how utterly pathetic she was. She had sworn herself never to return to this doorstep and there she was, yet again. She had spent the last hours contemplating her options, but had come to the conclusion that she had to do this properly. So when the twilight had dawned she'd slipped on a plain shirtdress and hurried to him.

The buzzer subtly opened the door, but she hesitated, taking baby steps inside. Immediately she found herself engulfed by absolute darkness. It intimidated her and the words she had prepared to throw at him were brusquely pushed off her mind, replaced by sheer uncertainty.

"Hello?" she asked into the blackness and noticed the slight tremor in her fear-shaken voice. A wall of deafening silence confronted her and she felt how the remainder of composure melted away. She was not prepared for such games. All she wanted was to get over with it, once and for all.

A creaking sound from upstairs awakened her senses. Her breathing pace increased noticeably when she felt his masculine presence in the house. Still, she attempted to inhale deeply and calmly, for she did not want him to see her inner frailty straight away.

Slowly and carefully she made her way to the stairs and climbed them, entering his bureau. She had just laid her hand on the light switch when she heard the sound once again. She froze, and let her hand sink to her side. A shadow was blurrily outlined against the dim moonlight that seeped through the curtains.

She overstepped the threshold and instantly she knew her every attempt of keeping her self-esteem had failed. His steely blue eyes burned right into her as he lounged in his executive chair several feet from her. His gaze was adamant and rigid, yet somewhat aggrieved.

She swallowed hard and lowered her head to escape his fierce glance. Thus far he had not uttered a word aimed at her, so she silently stood before him for what felt like eternity, yet it couldn't have been more than some minutes. The silence in the room lingered above the two of them and managed to freeze the atmosphere ever further. The tension was almost palpable, and it stretched its bony hands towards her, choking her until she couldn't breathe normally anymore. Her in- and exhales came in rapid, shallow hitches, she knew she wasn't more than two steps away from running away.

Even though she was unsure of the capacity her voice held, she decided to give herself a try at explaining.

"Listen, I know your ego is hurt and all, but I really don't-". He sharply cut her off with a penetrative voice, so calm that the paradox was almost a threat in itself.

"Don't

dare

to say another word. I did not tell you I wanted you to speak, so you keep quiet unless you are told otherwise." Inwardly she was raging with hellfire, nevertheless she nodded her head in understanding.

Eventually he slid out of his chair and slowly, almost cautiously stepped closer to her. His posture was casual, practically oozing self-confidence as he crossed the distance between them in one smooth movement. He came to a halt directly in front of her, letting his broad contour have its effect on her. She could already smell the pungent aroma of his aftershave with him being so close, but she still didn't dare to lift her head and look him in the eye.

For some moments she silently listened to the regularity of his exhalation. He breathed rather even, and she hoped that this was not one of his tricks to give her a fake sense of security.

He circled her halfway until he stood behind her. His body warmth oozed into her and for a second she had to suppress the urge to lean into him. When he brushed her hair to the side to expose her neck to him, lightly tracing his fingertips along her skin in the process, she couldn't help but sigh out at his touch. Although she couldn't see him from this position, she was certain he was smiling.

"Giving in so easily, are we?" His voice had that luring edge that she despised so much, because her body would always respond to it and tickle with excitement.

Promptly he fisted his hand into her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her head back. A tingle crept over her scalp and she got up on her tippy-toes to soothe the pain, but he pulled even tighter until her head rested on his shoulder. She bit her lower lip forcefully to keep from moaning out, closing her eyes to bear the spreading pain.

"No matter how hard you try to fight it, you'll always be mine." he whispered into her ear contemptuously, enjoying how she tensed up in utmost defiance. He knew he was pushing it and he had to be careful how far he would take it.

All of a sudden he loosened his grip and hustled her away from him. She swivelled around, clinging to the rest of self-respect left within her, and managed to return his gaze with just as much coldness.

"No, I'm not. It's over. I want to live my own life; I'm fed up of your demands." Whilst she spoke he took tiny steps towards her and she reacted by backing away until she felt the wall in her back. He brought his both arms up to rest on the wall of either side of her face. That way he caged her between his body and the wall so she had absolutely nowhere to escape. His muscled body pinned her against the cold stone wall, trapping her body and mind.

His sudden dry laugh was like a punch in the gut for her. "So, you're claiming that you aren't excited? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, you don't affect me anymore." It was a blatant lie, and both of them knew it. The wetness was already seeping its way between her pussy lips and a faint tingle in her belly reminded her of her most primal needs that she so desperately tried to repress.

Without further ado he slipped his hand between her legs (he knew from experience that she normally didn't like wearing underwear) and slid it up her thigh. She tried to wiggle out of his grip, but right then he plunged two fingers deep inside her. She groaned out and squirmed under his touch. Her pussy walls had been semi-prepared, but the pleasure mingled with a sweetly delicious pain of the sudden intrusion. Her muscles clenched around his fingers in an attempt to suck him deeper, but with one stroke he slid out of her again, presenting his glistening fingers to her.

"Tell me again that I don't affect you."

She remained silent, defiantly staring at him. His forefinger found her mouth and he traced the outlines of her pouty lips, leaving them wet with the liquid proof of her lust.

"You are nothing but a horny little slut." he spat out and both his dismissive tone and the profanity he'd called her made her flinch in shock. "How dare you..." She didn't know what to say and fell silent, lowering her eyes to the floor. Swallowing once, twice, she tried to get rid of the lump in her throat, but it was futile.

"Come on then, convince me that you aren't. Show me that you are a good girl. Tell me." He waited some seconds, all the time staring intently at her. His hand cradled her inner thigh, making it impossible for her to think, let alone speak a word. She feared that if she opened her mouth now, she would beg him to fuck her mercilessly.

"That's what I thought." He grabbed her and effortlessly threw her over his shoulder to carry her to the bedroom. Once there, he let her down and manoeuvred her to stand in the middle of the room. He grabbed the hem of her dress and roughly pulled it over her head, leaving her stark naked. She had to fight the urge to cover herself with her arms when he circled her to look his fill. His eyes burnt into her skin as he examined her from head to toe, nodding approvingly in the process. Her body was aching with desire and she feared that if he touched her in any way, no matter where, she would come on the spot.

When he returned to his position before her, he took a minute to marvel at the sight she offered. The soft moonlight streamed through the drapes and waved upon her skin, tinting her frame a milky blue. Due to the darkness in the room he wasn't able to make out more of her than a fine silhouette. His eyes travelled over the cascade of hair that curled down her shoulders, to her firm breasts, the flatness of her tummy and down to the curve of her hips.

She felt his lustful gaze upon her, leaving burning imprints on her skin, and a tingle of arousal crept down her spine and gathered in her abdomen.

"Come closer." He motioned for her to stand right before him and waited until her wobbly legs would carry her towards him. A light breeze came from the slightly opened window and she caught a whiff of his scent; a heavy mixture of cologne and natural aroused male.

He grabbed her upper arm tightly, almost painfully, and spun her around so that her back was pressed against his chest. When he was sure that she would stay in place he let his hands roam about her body. Cupping the curves of her breasts and grazing her sensitive nipples with his palms, he noticed how they stood proudly under his touch.

"I see how totally unaffected you are." he teased, but in his voice was not the slightest tone of cockiness. "Admit it, you are hot and wet and waiting to be fucked."

She vehemently shook her head. She wanted to be independent so desperately, yet she felt how her clit began throbbing with unheard want. She needed him, but she needed her freedom even more.

His fingers pinched her nipples until she lowly moaned out, proving her wrong. "You don't have to wear my collar to belong to me. I know that you do, no matter what." A rough tinge of possession had mingled into his speech.

His hands hadn't yet left her, so he dug his fingernails into her skin and trailed them along her stomach and down her thighs, watching in amazement how she shuddered in his arms.

Relentlessly he tormented her by brushing her hair to the side so he could assault her neck with his mouth. His lips nibbled around the soft skin of her neck and shoulder, up to her pulse point. He felt her fast heartbeat beneath his lips and couldn't help but smirk at her involuntary body reactions to him.

With his tongue he trailed a line to her ear and his hot breath on the wet skin created goose bumps on her forearms. "No, please stop..." she whispered almost inaudibly and tilted her head to give him better access. He loved the fact that she never managed to suppress her most primal needs, although she tried her best to cover them from him.

He found the special spot just behind her ear and gently sucked on it, driving her to madness. He used her body against her and she could do nothing about it but accept her fate.

"I... hate what you do to me." He bit on her neck and she cried out in agonized pleasure.

"I know, but your body loves it and I ought to give it what it deserves."

He showed no mercy, not even when her knees gave way and he had to grab her hips to hold her up. His mouth wandered about her skin, hungrily sucking and biting on her like a famished vampire in need for blood. He bit her earlobe, licked her throat and nipped at her neck, all the little things that would always turn her on, no matter how hard she tried to remain unaffected.

"Go to hell" she mumbled, right before another moan escaped her lips.

He chuckled in amusement. It was even more fun watching her struggle than seeing her surrender. "I will probably, sooner or later. But for now-" He turned her around and, grabbing a loose fistful of her hair, pulled her even closer. "-I have some things to keep you busy."

Slowly he leaned down until their faces were only inches apart. He noticed how she craned her neck and closed her eyes when his hot breath floated over her face. He inwardly counted to ten before gently cupping her face and then he captured her mouth. It was not much more than a light brush of lips against lips, but he lingered there, barely touching hers at all. After a moment's hesitation she opened her mouth, so he could slip his tongue inside. Exploring her velvety sweet inside, he let his piercing run along her tongue, tickling her. She responded immediately, accepting his skilled tongue to slide along her own. Every so gently he nipped at her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth to bite it. A moan escaped her mouth and entered his as she breathed "Fucker" to him. She felt the corners of his lips curl into a mischievous smile around her own.

He broke the kiss and, with a sharp yank at her hair, pulled back from her, holding her at arms' length. Sceptically he raised an eyebrow at her. He wanted to max it out. "So? You know what a whore like you has to do now. What are you waiting for?" She shrugged somewhat non-committal and offered him an apologetic smile. "Now that you're askin'... I'm waiting for you to rot in hell."

The slap to her face caught her off guard, and she stumbled and faltered. Fortunately she was able to grab the bedpost not to fall over. Her sight was blurred and for some moments the world around her was spinning.

"I fucking hate you." she seethed full of hatred and felt her stinging cheek. And regardless how many times she had said that before, this was the first time she really meant it.

"You want to be left alone? Fine then." Without another look he turned on his heel and headed for the door. He had just grabbed the handle when a soft murmur fluttered to his ears.

"Don't go." A sudden wave of compelling fear overtook her. No matter how much she hated him and his sleazy ways of betraying her body... she needed him. More than she needed her next breath. She was nothing without him. "Don't go."

It wasn't more than a subtle breath of air, but it was unmistakably her pleading voice. He turned around, but stayed where he was; the door knob still tightly clutched.

Ever so gracefully she sank to the ground, lowering herself to her knees. Her hands were locked behind her back, her eyes fixed to the ground. "Please."

Hesitantly he approached her and crouched down in front of her. His palm grazed over her cheek, feeling the heat of is hand imprint. Tipping her chin up, he searched for any glimpse of uncertainty, but the light green only reflected total surrender. Her pupils were dilated as she blinked at him with lust-hooded eyes. She was his, even though the collar didn't enclose her neck anymore.

Without having to be encouraged she grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged at it, indicating for him to take it off. When she undid his belt and zipper with mechanical motions he knew there was no going back. She was his.

She dragged the jeans down his muscular legs and inhaled an audible gasp at the sight of him. From her kneeling position he had even more of an imposing effect on her and she felt slightly intimidated, a perception she was familiar with. The tattoo of the dragon crawling across his chest, eyeing her dismissively, made her nervous. It felt as if it looked right at her, unmasking her as the ridiculous bitch that she was.

A burning feeling behind her eyelids painfully reminded her of the numerous hours she had spent curled up in her bed after he had closed the door behind him whenever he had paid her a visit. Every single goddamn time. She blinked a few times, a futile attempt to impede the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks.

He watched her silently, gave her enough time to pull herself together, and then extended his hand to her. "Change of plan."