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Description
I had never met her husband, but I had known all about him from everything she told me. He was more than a simply controlling bastard, he was a subtle abuser, attacking her emotionally and mentally, using the kids as leverage to get whatever he wanted. Such beautiful children, a brunette boy of four years and a lovely blond girl of six years. Neither she nor her husband was blond, which fueled his fiery temper. Though he had never hit her, she was afraid one day he might. Finally fed up with it, she asked for my help - he would be out of town on business for the weekend and nearly begged me to assist her move out.

Little had I known how hard the simple task would be.

He was to leave Friday afternoon, so we had made plans to meet after work and get her children first off to her mother's and then begin packing everything up to be moved into a temporary storage until she could find an apartment of her own. By eleven o'clock we successfully had all the boxes put together and labeled and all the furniture that was decidedly hers marked for removal. She was anxious and could not sleep, though we were both exhausted, so her minivan and my car were quickly laden with boxes of clothes and toys and small electronics. The storage unit would not be open until morning, so I volunteered my small single-bedroom apartment. By two in the morning, my place looked like a jungle of boxes and small odd furniture clashes. I offered her my bed while I took the floor (the couch was buried somewhere in the front room) and we both slept fitfully until our alarms sang out at six-thirty.

The dawn light filtered through the windows, odd shadows lay across the barely visible carpet floor. Over a quick cup of coffee we decided it would be best to get the furniture out of the house and into storage, allowing easy access to the boxes that would be carted over later. We immediately got to work, calling in a favor from a guy who owned a truck and trailer. Sworn to secrecy, he showed up at eight o'clock and we began hauling her half of everything into a little storage unit on the outskirts of town. By five in the afternoon, we were almost done. The few little nick-knacks that remained from the previous day, unsure then if we would have time to box them up, were gently tossed into a few spare baskets and small boxes. It would be the last time she saw this house, so we both made slow but thorough passes through each room.

I marveled at the house, finally able to stop and inspect for more than just items marked with her name on a sticker. A solid single story corner lot, three bedrooms, two living areas, a dining area and a breakfast nook. The kitchen and the breakfast nook overlooked the expansive back yard. The grass had not been mowed in a week, but with recent rains it was not the only yard on the block to be over ankle high. I saw something glint in the yard - red, shiny, and half-buried in the grass. Curious, I opened the back door from the kitchen and walked out. I gasped; she had forgotten to pack the kids' toys that remained in the yard! Looking about, I saw nearly two dozen small army men, a red wagon, several toy shovels and digging toys of various plastic sizes. I called out to her, told her to wait long enough for me to throw the items over tall wooden fence so she could toss them in her van on the last trip away from the place she once called home.

Arms full of toys, intent on my mission, I did not hear her frantically yelling my name, only looking up when I heard a car honk and her tires drive off. Standing in the threshold of the backdoor was a tall man with severe features, horn-rimmed glasses, and dressed in a well pressed, tidy business suit. Shock and fear froze me in place. We stood staring at each other for what seemed an eternity.

A small smile quirked his lips. Unblinking, he took a step toward me. I paled, more afraid than words can describe, and still unable to move. I was like a rabbit face to face with the hawk, one move and I was sure I would be torn to shreds, if not literally, then at the very least figuratively. His footsteps were silent on the grass as he drew nearer and nearer. He stopped less than two feet in front of me, the smile still present on his austere face. With slow deliberate movements, very like the walk of a few moments before, he reached out and grabbed toy after toy from my trembling arms and tossed them over the fence, watching my face intently for a reaction.

For a second, his arrogance gave me strength; I blubbered out, "Your wife told me everything, you bastard. She's leaving you and you can't stop her!"

His small smile grew to a near bubbling laugh, maniacal enough to tighten my throat with terror, turning my already frozen feet into ice cold blocks of concrete, heavy and unmoving. He leaned over, without touching me, and whispered in my ear, "My wife can do whatever she wants now. How about you?" As he stood straight, he plucked the last toy out of my hands, and without glancing at it, threw it in an arc over the wooden fence that seemed to suddenly be ten times as high.

"Come, it's getting late and I need to eat."

As if in a trance, I followed him back inside the house, careful to stay no more and no less than five steps behind. Once in the kitchen, however, he turned sharply and grabbed my shoulders, slamming me against the wall. Again I became afflicted with a standing paralysis, unable to move or control the trembling he invoked. I could not speak and the lump of fear in my throat made it hard to breathe. He was nearly six foot seven, I was merely five foot, having worn sneakers to better move the boxes instead of my normal four inch heels. Though he was taller, he had no trouble leaning his face to within inches of my mouth, asking softly, "Would you have any objections to replacing what you helped escape?" His breath caressed my lips, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine, snapping tight an invisible chord low in my stomach and I gasped. The small smile quirked his lips once more. Without another word, he straightened, released his hold on me, and turned toward the remnants of the main living room. Again, I unconsciously followed him, five steps back.

The main living room had been grand, boasting a gorgeously deep-set couch with matching chairs and a love seat and an expensive little home theater system; after his wife had moved her half out, however, it looked desolate and empty, with a lone recliner in the corner and the television mounted on the wall with wires drooped everywhere. In the center of the room sat a single suitcase, a new item for my eyes to see. It was small, barely larger than the attaché case by the door. He stood beside it and looked expectantly toward me. Without thinking, I walked forward and knelt down to open it up. Inside, on top of his overnight packing, I found a small negligee neatly folded. It was soft and light to the touch, and with a horrific gasp, I dropped it as if it burned my skin. I fought to stand up and back away, but he had maneuvered himself behind me and held me down with his hand on my shoulder. A low chuckle erupted from his throat, his voice low and gentle slid across my body, "Now, now, no need to get all excited just yet." His voice seemed to calm me down, put me back in the trance, and I sat still once more. Satisfied with my compliance, he allowed me to stand. I turned, head bowed, eyes downcast, and stared at his feet before me. My mind was the only thing truly mine and whatever he was doing made it hard to think clearly. His left hand rested on my shoulder and prompted me to look up into his glass covered grey eyes. The smile had left his lips; there was no visible emotion on his face, just a blank expression I could not decipher. Again the lower regions of my stomach fluttered.

I was bespelled. My lips parted ever so slightly, a soft gasping moan of longing escaped. My nipples tingled, begging for my breasts to be cupped, and still the wings of butterflies danced around the tight muscles low in my body, sending shivers up and down my spine, turning my knees to trembling jello. Those same chills claimed my neck, my pulse pounded and ached just under the surface for a mouth to cover and nip my skin. As if he had read my mind, the smile returned as he bent toward me. His left hand remained on my shoulder as his right arm encircled my waist and his lips pressed into mine. I melted into him, still unable to move my own body, but content to let him hold me and kiss me.

He pulled away all too soon, watching my face as he stood straight once more. His face again wore a blank expression. He withdrew his arms and turned toward the second living room, a room half the size of the main room we were in, and halted five steps in, which left me standing in the doorway. This room once held family portraits and a lovely clock above the mantle of the fireplace, but it only held the sleeper sofa his wife did not want and a rag-tag jumble of toy chest / ottoman combos, empty of everything they once held. The walls were once again white, the large poster-size frames gone. If he was hurt by what little he saw, he did not show it. Again, he stood watching my face. Suddenly I was very aware of my new position; I was the replacement to what escaped, I was to be his next victim, I was now his prey! With that thought, I tried to turn and run - the front door stood wide open in the next room, my car sat out on the curb just beyond the short sidewalk outside the door. Barely had my mind had that single thought when his eyes glinted behind the black frame glasses and his right hand pulled a short key ring out of his pocket, flashed my keys, and put them back. My small spark of hope died, though still without complete control of my body, such a plan to escape would hardly have worked.

The dining room with the massive breakfast nook was his next destination. The only items missing from this room were the pure silver tea sets his wife collected and her great-grandmother's China set, which left the hutch bare of anything except dust. A smell of cooked vegetable oil caught my nose and my eyes caught sight of a bag of fast food on the dining table. So strong was the smell of the French fries, I momentarily wondered how I could have missed the scent when I followed him into the house. Then he pulled a chair out and stood behind it, telling me with his eyes that I should sit. Weak kneed, all thoughts fled my brain, and I obeyed. I ate what he served in silence, barely conscious of his eyes on me the entire short meal.

With the small burger and fries finished, he kept watch as I cleaned the trash away, tossing the paper cups as well as the paper wrappers. On my return from the trashcan, he turned his chair out from the table and rested his left hand on his thigh. I knew without hearing any words he wanted me to sit on his lap. Screaming inside my head, I tried to stop my motions. I succeeded for one small faltering step and halted a single step away from the front of his chair. Triumph lit my face, and I glared down at him, wishing I could speak. His left hand lifted off his thigh and wrapped around my waist as the small smile played along his lips again, a glint of humor hovering in his eyes. Immediately at his touch, my will faded and he pulled me into his lap. His right hand stroked the side of my face, grasped my chin, and forced my face even with his. A low growl emanated from his chest, "I will be compensated for what I have lost." My brain screamed at my arms to struggle, but my body remained limp, even as the fear his words evoked traveled through my veins, sending shivers along my skin. A satisfied look crossed his face. He stood, with me in his arms, and, never losing eye contact, carried me into the first bedroom along the hall.

The first bedroom was a little girl's room. Pink wallpaper decorated the empty walls; pink lace trimmed the only window illuminating an empty room. Closet doors hung open to reveal a desolate and bare interior. He mentally surveyed the room, turned, and continued on to the next bedroom. The second bedroom was the little boy's room, blue and green and just as void of signs of life. His arms grew tense as they held me, his jaw clenched tight; the only visible clues to his emotional state. Out and down the hall to the master bedroom we went. The massive four poster bed remained, but little else survived his wife's departure. With a gentleness unlike his mood suggested existed, he deposited me on the bed and stood over me.

With precise movements, he untied my shoes and tossed them out into the hall, splattering dried mud on the carpet where they landed. He sat next to me and removed his own shoes with the same stiff motions. I managed to pull myself to a sitting position in the middle of the bed and watched him meticulously place each shoe on the floor of his side of the closet. When he turned around, the corner of his mouth tilted slightly at the sight of me half huddled on the bed. I had temporarily regained my senses but did not know how long it would last; I did not like being limp in another man's bed, unable to control my own body. He seemed to sense my determination not to allow him to control me, which only amused him more.

"Come here."

A simple command, voice neutral and low, but effective nonetheless as it slid like syrup over my skin. I shivered and crawled toward him, stopping just shy of the edge of the bed to sit with legs folded under me, curious what he would do next. I did not believe he would outright rape me, else he would have done so by now; no, he seemed to be biding his time making suggestions I was compelled to follow. I did not understand how he controlled my body; how he was able to coerce me to do things against my brain's protest, and fear that it really was me doing so of my own free will kept me from inquiring.

His right hand once more caressed down my cheek, shivers of anticipation at such a slight touch danced down my spine. I leaned into his hand, half moaning through my sudden breathlessness. Never before had such a powerful response been elicited from a simple touch. His left hand trailed down my shoulder, along my arm, and rested on my waist. He leaned down and gently kissed my lips as both of his hands traced their way up my sides, dragging my shirt up over my breasts. His mouth released its hold on my lips as his hands pulled my shirt over my head. He stayed bent over, inches from my face; his breath flowed over my lips, while his hands resumed their place on my waist.

"You now belong to me."

It was not just a statement, it was fact. I knew deep down in my core his words were true. And it scared me even more. I managed to suck in my breath, in an attempt to protest, but my words caught in my throat as I was thrown backwards onto the bed. He lowered his mouth to my stomach, hands still on my waist, and kissed a small trail around my bellybutton and down to the top of my jeans. My head fell back and my pent up breath escaped in a long drawn out moan. His hands quickly unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down slowly, his lips not far behind the waistband. I drew ragged breaths, unable to focus on anything but the sensations left behind by his hot breath.

Then it was over. I laid panting, breathless, staring at the ceiling as he stood and undressed himself with swift, sure movements. A noise at the closet turned my head; he stood there naked, his clothes hung. He turned to me, in all his glory, and held up a length of rope. That smile quirked his lips once more, and when he spoke, his voice was a mere low growl, "I do not think I will need this, but just in case...." He walked back towards me as I tried to get my balance on my elbows to pull myself back to the head of the bed. The rope helped raise me out of my confused state; the adrenaline pumped through my veins and allowed me a small measure of control over my body once again.

What little control I had was not enough to out run him. I had barely pulled myself backwards two feet when his hand grabbed my ankle and pulled me down again. My fear kicked back in, but at his touch I lost the ability to move; I trembled in his grasp, frozen underneath his curious gaze. He gently laid the rope down beside my head as he crawled atop me to straddle and pin me in place. He drew my arms above my head, held them in place with one hand, and halted with his mouth over my ear. I whimpered, both from fear and wanting to feel his teeth biting at my neck. I heard his guttural growl in response.

He was still, unmoving above me, and the nearness of him began to drive me crazy. I knew I should fight back, but my will was beginning to fade. The very idea of belonging to someone, specifically him, did not enrage me as it had when he first mentioned it; it began to turn me on as no thought ever had before. I writhed beneath him, barely aware that my body and my mind were on the same wavelength. He sensed the change in me and pulled himself up to look down in my eyes. His grey eyes were black now; our eyes locked together as his free hand slid up my body and under my bra. My breath hissed in when his hand attempted to fully encompass my breast. He pulled his hand out slowly, but stopped when his fingers locked on my hardening nipple; I closed my eyes and threw my head back, gasping.

"That's it," he growled, his breath hot on my neck. He took advantage of my arched back, reached around and unclasped my bra and drew it up over my head and tossed it across the room. His hand caressed down my body while his mouth latched on to my neck. My head spun, colors whirled around behind my closed eyes. His hand slowly traveled down to my hips and his mouth released my flesh. Instead of pulling off my panties, he slid his fingers around and underneath the thin fabric and halted, held still against my body. His colorless eyes watched me slowly come back to my senses.

My thoughts raced, I admitted to myself I was his, freely and willingly. His lips curled in a knowing smile. With deliberate slowness, eyes locked on mine, he pushed his fingers inside me, one by one.

"Cum for me."

I obeyed. Again and again.

I jolted upright, confused, and afraid of what had just happened. I was disoriented in the dark, the bed too hard to be mine. I reached around to find my phone and immediately bumped my hand on a table leg. Too confused to curse at the pain, I looked around again, forcing myself to look harder into the blackness. I was not in the half empty bedroom of a controlling dominant, but on the floor of my bedroom in my small apartment with my coworker asleep in my bed. It was just a dream!

I heard again the sound that woke me: a banging on my door knocker. I quickly found my robe and gingerly made my way through the sea of boxes and looked through the peephole as I called out an inquiry of welcome at four in the morning. I froze with my hand on the door chain. HE stood outside my door, "I know you have my wife in there. Tell her when she wakes, we need to talk."

Description
I had never met her husband, but I had known all about him from everything she told me. He was more than a simply controlling bastard, he was a subtle abuser, attacking her emotionally and mentally, using the kids as leverage to get whatever he wanted. Such beautiful children, a brunette boy of four years and a lovely blond girl of six years. Neither she nor her husband was blond, which fueled his fiery temper. Though he had never hit her, she was afraid one day he might. Finally fed up with it, she asked for my help - he would be out of town on business for the weekend and nearly begged me to assist her move out.

Little had I known how hard the simple task would be.

He was to leave Friday afternoon, so we had made plans to meet after work and get her children first off to her mother's and then begin packing everything up to be moved into a temporary storage until she could find an apartment of her own. By eleven o'clock we successfully had all the boxes put together and labeled and all the furniture that was decidedly hers marked for removal. She was anxious and could not sleep, though we were both exhausted, so her minivan and my car were quickly laden with boxes of clothes and toys and small electronics. The storage unit would not be open until morning, so I volunteered my small single-bedroom apartment. By two in the morning, my place looked like a jungle of boxes and small odd furniture clashes. I offered her my bed while I took the floor (the couch was buried somewhere in the front room) and we both slept fitfully until our alarms sang out at six-thirty.

The dawn light filtered through the windows, odd shadows lay across the barely visible carpet floor. Over a quick cup of coffee we decided it would be best to get the furniture out of the house and into storage, allowing easy access to the boxes that would be carted over later. We immediately got to work, calling in a favor from a guy who owned a truck and trailer. Sworn to secrecy, he showed up at eight o'clock and we began hauling her half of everything into a little storage unit on the outskirts of town. By five in the afternoon, we were almost done. The few little nick-knacks that remained from the previous day, unsure then if we would have time to box them up, were gently tossed into a few spare baskets and small boxes. It would be the last time she saw this house, so we both made slow but thorough passes through each room.

I marveled at the house, finally able to stop and inspect for more than just items marked with her name on a sticker. A solid single story corner lot, three bedrooms, two living areas, a dining area and a breakfast nook. The kitchen and the breakfast nook overlooked the expansive back yard. The grass had not been mowed in a week, but with recent rains it was not the only yard on the block to be over ankle high. I saw something glint in the yard - red, shiny, and half-buried in the grass. Curious, I opened the back door from the kitchen and walked out. I gasped; she had forgotten to pack the kids' toys that remained in the yard! Looking about, I saw nearly two dozen small army men, a red wagon, several toy shovels and digging toys of various plastic sizes. I called out to her, told her to wait long enough for me to throw the items over tall wooden fence so she could toss them in her van on the last trip away from the place she once called home.

Arms full of toys, intent on my mission, I did not hear her frantically yelling my name, only looking up when I heard a car honk and her tires drive off. Standing in the threshold of the backdoor was a tall man with severe features, horn-rimmed glasses, and dressed in a well pressed, tidy business suit. Shock and fear froze me in place. We stood staring at each other for what seemed an eternity.

A small smile quirked his lips. Unblinking, he took a step toward me. I paled, more afraid than words can describe, and still unable to move. I was like a rabbit face to face with the hawk, one move and I was sure I would be torn to shreds, if not literally, then at the very least figuratively. His footsteps were silent on the grass as he drew nearer and nearer. He stopped less than two feet in front of me, the smile still present on his austere face. With slow deliberate movements, very like the walk of a few moments before, he reached out and grabbed toy after toy from my trembling arms and tossed them over the fence, watching my face intently for a reaction.

For a second, his arrogance gave me strength; I blubbered out, "Your wife told me everything, you bastard. She's leaving you and you can't stop her!"

His small smile grew to a near bubbling laugh, maniacal enough to tighten my throat with terror, turning my already frozen feet into ice cold blocks of concrete, heavy and unmoving. He leaned over, without touching me, and whispered in my ear, "My wife can do whatever she wants now. How about you?" As he stood straight, he plucked the last toy out of my hands, and without glancing at it, threw it in an arc over the wooden fence that seemed to suddenly be ten times as high.

"Come, it's getting late and I need to eat."

As if in a trance, I followed him back inside the house, careful to stay no more and no less than five steps behind. Once in the kitchen, however, he turned sharply and grabbed my shoulders, slamming me against the wall. Again I became afflicted with a standing paralysis, unable to move or control the trembling he invoked. I could not speak and the lump of fear in my throat made it hard to breathe. He was nearly six foot seven, I was merely five foot, having worn sneakers to better move the boxes instead of my normal four inch heels. Though he was taller, he had no trouble leaning his face to within inches of my mouth, asking softly, "Would you have any objections to replacing what you helped escape?" His breath caressed my lips, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine, snapping tight an invisible chord low in my stomach and I gasped. The small smile quirked his lips once more. Without another word, he straightened, released his hold on me, and turned toward the remnants of the main living room. Again, I unconsciously followed him, five steps back.

The main living room had been grand, boasting a gorgeously deep-set couch with matching chairs and a love seat and an expensive little home theater system; after his wife had moved her half out, however, it looked desolate and empty, with a lone recliner in the corner and the television mounted on the wall with wires drooped everywhere. In the center of the room sat a single suitcase, a new item for my eyes to see. It was small, barely larger than the attaché case by the door. He stood beside it and looked expectantly toward me. Without thinking, I walked forward and knelt down to open it up. Inside, on top of his overnight packing, I found a small negligee neatly folded. It was soft and light to the touch, and with a horrific gasp, I dropped it as if it burned my skin. I fought to stand up and back away, but he had maneuvered himself behind me and held me down with his hand on my shoulder. A low chuckle erupted from his throat, his voice low and gentle slid across my body, "Now, now, no need to get all excited just yet." His voice seemed to calm me down, put me back in the trance, and I sat still once more. Satisfied with my compliance, he allowed me to stand. I turned, head bowed, eyes downcast, and stared at his feet before me. My mind was the only thing truly mine and whatever he was doing made it hard to think clearly. His left hand rested on my shoulder and prompted me to look up into his glass covered grey eyes. The smile had left his lips; there was no visible emotion on his face, just a blank expression I could not decipher. Again the lower regions of my stomach fluttered.

I was bespelled. My lips parted ever so slightly, a soft gasping moan of longing escaped. My nipples tingled, begging for my breasts to be cupped, and still the wings of butterflies danced around the tight muscles low in my body, sending shivers up and down my spine, turning my knees to trembling jello. Those same chills claimed my neck, my pulse pounded and ached just under the surface for a mouth to cover and nip my skin. As if he had read my mind, the smile returned as he bent toward me. His left hand remained on my shoulder as his right arm encircled my waist and his lips pressed into mine. I melted into him, still unable to move my own body, but content to let him hold me and kiss me.

He pulled away all too soon, watching my face as he stood straight once more. His face again wore a blank expression. He withdrew his arms and turned toward the second living room, a room half the size of the main room we were in, and halted five steps in, which left me standing in the doorway. This room once held family portraits and a lovely clock above the mantle of the fireplace, but it only held the sleeper sofa his wife did not want and a rag-tag jumble of toy chest / ottoman combos, empty of everything they once held. The walls were once again white, the large poster-size frames gone. If he was hurt by what little he saw, he did not show it. Again, he stood watching my face. Suddenly I was very aware of my new position; I was the replacement to what escaped, I was to be his next victim, I was now his prey! With that thought, I tried to turn and run - the front door stood wide open in the next room, my car sat out on the curb just beyond the short sidewalk outside the door. Barely had my mind had that single thought when his eyes glinted behind the black frame glasses and his right hand pulled a short key ring out of his pocket, flashed my keys, and put them back. My small spark of hope died, though still without complete control of my body, such a plan to escape would hardly have worked.

The dining room with the massive breakfast nook was his next destination. The only items missing from this room were the pure silver tea sets his wife collected and her great-grandmother's China set, which left the hutch bare of anything except dust. A smell of cooked vegetable oil caught my nose and my eyes caught sight of a bag of fast food on the dining table. So strong was the smell of the French fries, I momentarily wondered how I could have missed the scent when I followed him into the house. Then he pulled a chair out and stood behind it, telling me with his eyes that I should sit. Weak kneed, all thoughts fled my brain, and I obeyed. I ate what he served in silence, barely conscious of his eyes on me the entire short meal.

With the small burger and fries finished, he kept watch as I cleaned the trash away, tossing the paper cups as well as the paper wrappers. On my return from the trashcan, he turned his chair out from the table and rested his left hand on his thigh. I knew without hearing any words he wanted me to sit on his lap. Screaming inside my head, I tried to stop my motions. I succeeded for one small faltering step and halted a single step away from the front of his chair. Triumph lit my face, and I glared down at him, wishing I could speak. His left hand lifted off his thigh and wrapped around my waist as the small smile played along his lips again, a glint of humor hovering in his eyes. Immediately at his touch, my will faded and he pulled me into his lap. His right hand stroked the side of my face, grasped my chin, and forced my face even with his. A low growl emanated from his chest, "I will be compensated for what I have lost." My brain screamed at my arms to struggle, but my body remained limp, even as the fear his words evoked traveled through my veins, sending shivers along my skin. A satisfied look crossed his face. He stood, with me in his arms, and, never losing eye contact, carried me into the first bedroom along the hall.

The first bedroom was a little girl's room. Pink wallpaper decorated the empty walls; pink lace trimmed the only window illuminating an empty room. Closet doors hung open to reveal a desolate and bare interior. He mentally surveyed the room, turned, and continued on to the next bedroom. The second bedroom was the little boy's room, blue and green and just as void of signs of life. His arms grew tense as they held me, his jaw clenched tight; the only visible clues to his emotional state. Out and down the hall to the master bedroom we went. The massive four poster bed remained, but little else survived his wife's departure. With a gentleness unlike his mood suggested existed, he deposited me on the bed and stood over me.

With precise movements, he untied my shoes and tossed them out into the hall, splattering dried mud on the carpet where they landed. He sat next to me and removed his own shoes with the same stiff motions. I managed to pull myself to a sitting position in the middle of the bed and watched him meticulously place each shoe on the floor of his side of the closet. When he turned around, the corner of his mouth tilted slightly at the sight of me half huddled on the bed. I had temporarily regained my senses but did not know how long it would last; I did not like being limp in another man's bed, unable to control my own body. He seemed to sense my determination not to allow him to control me, which only amused him more.

"Come here."

A simple command, voice neutral and low, but effective nonetheless as it slid like syrup over my skin. I shivered and crawled toward him, stopping just shy of the edge of the bed to sit with legs folded under me, curious what he would do next. I did not believe he would outright rape me, else he would have done so by now; no, he seemed to be biding his time making suggestions I was compelled to follow. I did not understand how he controlled my body; how he was able to coerce me to do things against my brain's protest, and fear that it really was me doing so of my own free will kept me from inquiring.

His right hand once more caressed down my cheek, shivers of anticipation at such a slight touch danced down my spine. I leaned into his hand, half moaning through my sudden breathlessness. Never before had such a powerful response been elicited from a simple touch. His left hand trailed down my shoulder, along my arm, and rested on my waist. He leaned down and gently kissed my lips as both of his hands traced their way up my sides, dragging my shirt up over my breasts. His mouth released its hold on my lips as his hands pulled my shirt over my head. He stayed bent over, inches from my face; his breath flowed over my lips, while his hands resumed their place on my waist.

"You now belong to me."

It was not just a statement, it was fact. I knew deep down in my core his words were true. And it scared me even more. I managed to suck in my breath, in an attempt to protest, but my words caught in my throat as I was thrown backwards onto the bed. He lowered his mouth to my stomach, hands still on my waist, and kissed a small trail around my bellybutton and down to the top of my jeans. My head fell back and my pent up breath escaped in a long drawn out moan. His hands quickly unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down slowly, his lips not far behind the waistband. I drew ragged breaths, unable to focus on anything but the sensations left behind by his hot breath.

Then it was over. I laid panting, breathless, staring at the ceiling as he stood and undressed himself with swift, sure movements. A noise at the closet turned my head; he stood there naked, his clothes hung. He turned to me, in all his glory, and held up a length of rope. That smile quirked his lips once more, and when he spoke, his voice was a mere low growl, "I do not think I will need this, but just in case...." He walked back towards me as I tried to get my balance on my elbows to pull myself back to the head of the bed. The rope helped raise me out of my confused state; the adrenaline pumped through my veins and allowed me a small measure of control over my body once again.

What little control I had was not enough to out run him. I had barely pulled myself backwards two feet when his hand grabbed my ankle and pulled me down again. My fear kicked back in, but at his touch I lost the ability to move; I trembled in his grasp, frozen underneath his curious gaze. He gently laid the rope down beside my head as he crawled atop me to straddle and pin me in place. He drew my arms above my head, held them in place with one hand, and halted with his mouth over my ear. I whimpered, both from fear and wanting to feel his teeth biting at my neck. I heard his guttural growl in response.

He was still, unmoving above me, and the nearness of him began to drive me crazy. I knew I should fight back, but my will was beginning to fade. The very idea of belonging to someone, specifically him, did not enrage me as it had when he first mentioned it; it began to turn me on as no thought ever had before. I writhed beneath him, barely aware that my body and my mind were on the same wavelength. He sensed the change in me and pulled himself up to look down in my eyes. His grey eyes were black now; our eyes locked together as his free hand slid up my body and under my bra. My breath hissed in when his hand attempted to fully encompass my breast. He pulled his hand out slowly, but stopped when his fingers locked on my hardening nipple; I closed my eyes and threw my head back, gasping.

"That's it," he growled, his breath hot on my neck. He took advantage of my arched back, reached around and unclasped my bra and drew it up over my head and tossed it across the room. His hand caressed down my body while his mouth latched on to my neck. My head spun, colors whirled around behind my closed eyes. His hand slowly traveled down to my hips and his mouth released my flesh. Instead of pulling off my panties, he slid his fingers around and underneath the thin fabric and halted, held still against my body. His colorless eyes watched me slowly come back to my senses.

My thoughts raced, I admitted to myself I was his, freely and willingly. His lips curled in a knowing smile. With deliberate slowness, eyes locked on mine, he pushed his fingers inside me, one by one.

"Cum for me."

I obeyed. Again and again.

I jolted upright, confused, and afraid of what had just happened. I was disoriented in the dark, the bed too hard to be mine. I reached around to find my phone and immediately bumped my hand on a table leg. Too confused to curse at the pain, I looked around again, forcing myself to look harder into the blackness. I was not in the half empty bedroom of a controlling dominant, but on the floor of my bedroom in my small apartment with my coworker asleep in my bed. It was just a dream!

I heard again the sound that woke me: a banging on my door knocker. I quickly found my robe and gingerly made my way through the sea of boxes and looked through the peephole as I called out an inquiry of welcome at four in the morning. I froze with my hand on the door chain. HE stood outside my door, "I know you have my wife in there. Tell her when she wakes, we need to talk."