Obsession

The answer came to me in pretty colored bottles, burning liquids and pills; it came in razor blades to cut lines and slipped a comforting lens over reality. I stayed with my current boyfriend, who majored in theatre and dealing. He kept me at a constant high for one blurry year, so that I hardly noticed his condescending tone. Sure, he'd talk down to me, berate or isolate me, keep me in line, a regular sadist. I didn't define it was abuse, maybe because he bought me oil paint to make up for the freshest bruises. He said he loved me, and that made sense at the time. Love wasn't worth anything free and un-bruised. Somehow it didn't last. I was exhibiting my exit show the night he was arrested for possession. It didn't surprise me; looking back, going into withdrawal was far worse than any sort of empty space he left.

I met Ethan somewhere in-between temporary homes. The only thing more striking in his appearance other than his height was the congenial warmth that seemed to surround him. We were both at a lame party of a mutual friend, and he was one of the few that interested me. Around us, inebriation poured from kegs as though we were in some Emily Dickinson poem, inebriated on air. Instead we began to talk about the personalities and disorders he could pinpoint all around us. As a grad student and a studying therapist, I thought he was somehow entitled to everyone's personality. , and wouldn't put up with any bullshit. I merely enjoyed the spectacle that everyone seemed to make of themselves. They were drunk on the social scene and the sheen of the constant supply of red plastic cups.

"I want to see you at work. Show me," I begged.

"What? That's so unprofessional!" He feigned shock.

"Please? Come on, I want to see," I managed to bat my lashes in a burlesque, mock-flirt.

"Okay, okay. See that girl? She's obviously had a rough time getting her father's approval," he joked, discreetly pointed out a girl, laughing a bit too loud, clinging to the elbow of some stiff, disinterested guy.

"And him? He's convinced no woman's ever going to live up to his mother," he tried to keep a straight face.

"No one is safe around you, huh?"

He smiled, and it struck me as something fantastic. Whatever he embodied, the geniality and light-hearted nature about him was contagious, and I clung to it.

"Analyze me," I looked to him, trying not to grin like a fool.

"You?" he looked me over, "you're too close-by, you might hear."

I arched an eyebrow, "Here, I'll go across the room, how about then?"

"No, you're too hard a case. I'll need a few years to study you, at least."

I moved in with him shortly after I left school and he started treating patients. For a short while I stayed with him until I found a paying job at the cafe somewhere between our apartments. Although it wasn't exactly the way I planned my life, it was better than the unpredictability of not having a steady income, of not knowing whether I was going to have to worry about what I was going to do next; I wasn't worried about not knowing. I was clean. I was safe. The problem with an addictive personality, though, is that some are especially and helplessly attracted to bad habits.They aren't always content with safe and predictable.

I woke up late for work the morning after. I cursed continually, finding something that would cover all of the marks that Julian had left on me just hours before. I almost felt a giddy rush in having to hide them, but was annoyed instead. Those little bites were at the expense of someone who wouldn't sleep with him, someone he claimed to love. She probably thought he was a kind, understanding, a modern day hero. To be honest, he wasn't unkind, nor wasn't he understanding. He was a one night stand, and I would have to get over it. I shook off all thought of him as I entered the old, antiquated coffee shop.

I had made it in about fifteen minutes early, forgetting that my alarm clock was set a quarter of an hour faster; Ethan hated my perpetual late streak, and would fuck with all of the clocks in my apartment, much to my irritation. Though, it usually worked to my advantage, I never stopped feeling like I had been tricked out of my tardiness. I planned to spend the borrowed time in the break room, applying the makeup I had neglected to do that morning, but when I reached for my makeup bag, I pulled out the collar. I dropped it on the table as though it had burned me. It was out in the open air, out of place, almost comical. I stared, taking a moment to realize he must have slipped it into my bag the night before as I was leaving. The bastard! I felt my face grow hot, my heart thudding in my chest. Hearing the unmistakable creak and whine of the door, I scrambled to get the incriminating strap of leather out of plain sight.

"Cadence! You're here early! Are you doing okay? You could've called in sick, you're pale as a sheet," Jacques, his usual, bustling self, pulled on his apron.

God! I smiled and reassured him that I was fine, feeling as though he could somehow see right through my bag.

"Traffic was a state this morning, of course," his accent was still something of a novelty to me, even having worked for him for a few years, "I heard this concerto I thought you'd like on NPR . . ."

I listened to him ramble cheerfully, interjecting the appropriate responses.

The morning went quickly as usual, giving me little time to focus on anything but orders. The soft, warm ambiance of the place always put me at ease, the smell of grinding coffee always managed to fill me with some comfort that reached back as far as my memory could. The high energy and cheerfulness we were required to promote in these early hours took more out of me than I anticipated that morning, and by the lull in business that late morning I was ready to call it a day. I was cleaning out the blender when Jacques' tapping woke me from a dull reverie.

"You have someone here for you," he raised his eyebrows, and I knew. . .

"''Morning, sunshine," Julian's smug look should've infuriated me but it flooded me with something like relief.

"Oh, hi," I looked up, feeling lame in my work clothes, "what are you doing here?"

"I don't have another class for about two hours," he checked his watch as if to confirm it, "why aren't you wearing your collar?" his voice lowered, his grin annoyingly charming.

"Can you take a break?"

I glanced over at Jacques, hating that Julian came during work, resenting that he had to do this in front of someone that knew I was in a relationship.

"It's fine, Caid, you can take the rest of the day off. It's going to be a slow one."

I shot him a grateful look, and stepped back from the counter, leaving them to their small talk.

Once I was alone in the break room, I had to sit down. It was too much. I felt like something in our understood secrecy had been violated, like work was sacred, an understood place you don't encroach upon. My fingers shook while I tried the combination on my locker. I didn't understand. What was he doing to me? I had just mentally sworn him off. I pulled out my purse, replaced it with my apron, and walked out.

"He's waiting outside," Jacques was clearing tables absently, looking up at me with concerned blue eyes.

I grimaced, trying to come up with some excuse.

"Look, I know it's not my place, Cadence, but I have to say I do not approve."

"Please, Jacques, you can't tell Ethan about this," I hated the whine I heard in my voice.

"I wasn't planning on it, love, just watch yourself."

I slipped into his small, sleek car, not bothering to buckle myself in.

"What did I say?" his voice took a note of condescension.

"What?" I looked dumbly at him.

"Your collar."

"What the hell, Julian?" I spat at him, pulling it out of my purse, dropping it in his lap.

"So you found it."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You said you loved me," he looked serious now, holding it as though it might break, "did you mean it?"

"No I-, I don't know." I answered truthfully.

"Well I don't know either, but I saw something in you. I couldn't just let you stalk off, I couldn't. I want that submissive little bitch I had coming in my hand last night, and you want to be her. "

He grabbed my hand in a way that felt too rehearsed.

Pulling away, I watched something flare up in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter what we want, we both have obligations. We both have people we love."

He looked off, through the windshield for a moment, as though he hadn't considered my refusal as an option.

"But he doesn't make you come like I do, does he?"

I felt my face flush.

"That's really none of your damn business."

"Oh come off it, you're just sore I didn't profess my undying love to you."

I stared at him, planning on calling him a dick and slamming the door, going to Ethan's apartment and begging him for forgiveness. But what he said was true. I was hurt. I felt stupid. I gave myself to him for a few fleeting moments and I wanted him to love me for it.

"God, you're a dick," I stated, but the words were deflated.

"You'll have to get used to it."

He paused, looking me over, reached across me and locked my door.

"We need to establish some rules. This isn't the place for it so I'll give you a few to swallow on the car ride over. Whenever I see you I want that collar around your neck or I'm not going to touch you."

"The car ride?" I buckled the leather ring around my neck.

"We're going to take a drive, find somewhere more . . . secluded. Anyway, you don't refuse me unless you actually want me to stop, I don't want any of that defiant little cunt business to get a rise out of me. I don't work like that," I turned to face him, "Understand?"

I stared at his easy repose.

"Good."

"Wait . . . wait, Julian! Where are we going?"

"Don't ask questions."

Driving in a thick tension, he didn't bother to turn on the radio and so my loud, nervous stream of consciousness was let loose, bouncing off of the leather interior. I was seething; just who did he think he was? He spoke as though he knew and had tired of all my mannerisms already. Obviously pleased with himself, he tested me with complete confidence that I was on the edge of my seat, biting my nails. So we drove. I thought of what must have been on his mind as the gray monotony of city-decay started slowly morphing into muted city-suburb. He stopped then, pulling into a new neighborhood under construction. All of the dusty equipment: big, yellow, and black looked lonely- almost like an elephant graveyard. It didn't seem right to see all of them so quiet. So Still.

"Wow, you really couldn't think of anything more romantic than this?"

"What makes you think you deserve anything better?"

I looked at him, a steel band tightening around my chest.

"What?"

"I didn't mean it like that, " he waved his hand as if to dismiss the words, " I was thinking about it, Cadence, really thinking. This isn't what I planned, no, but I really thought it over."

I stared, not even sure if I was angry, maybe severely stirred up.

"We need to come to an understanding about something. I could be romantic, I could take my time and learn what you like, I could learn to be your perfect compliment. I figured something just now- what you want isn't romance. You get that already and that isn't enough. You need me to just take something else. You're not interested in being loved, you just want to be hurt. Punished. Taken. You don't want any apologies for it, either."

"I . . ." I didn't know how to respond, or how I was supposed to.

"I'm not going to ask you why. It's just that I'm the closest, the easiest. Doms don't just come in and out of your life, so that makes me, what? An anomaly. It's the same with you. Like you said, we both have people we love. It's just that I want you, and what happened last night. It's nothing personal. I think we can manage to keep things physical and no one will get hurt."

I was aching to take off the collar, but it seemed to bond itself to my skin; it seemed more permanent.

"Am I wrong?" he challenged.

I stared at my hands, falling inwardly. I didn't understand why I couldn't refuse him. Why what he did to me was so intoxicating. I knew it was dangerous. I knew he had what I needed. What happened to my confidence, or at least the fury of being treated like. . . like a disobedient little bitch?

"No." I felt tears prick my eyes, "oh fuck," my voice broke and I sniffled, feeling like an idiot, trying to blink back the sting.

"Oh Cadence," everything about him softened, "sweetie."

I broke down, letting the sobs wrack my body.

"I'm sorry."

He held me awkwardly over the armrest while I wrinkled his shirt.

"Sweetie, no, no," he kissed me gently, "Cadence, have you ever been in a relationship like this before?"

I shook my head.

"Oh God, I'm an idiot," he tried to give me an apologetic smile, "I just assumed you knew what you were doing, that you knew what you wanted. I don't think . . ."

I hiccupped, "No, you're right. I don't want any apologies for it. You're right."

"I might be," Now I was undesirable at the look of doubt dusted over him. "I'm obviously going to have to slow this down."

"No. No that's not what I want. I don't want you to slow down. I want what you were doing, I just wasn't prepared for you to be so frank. God."

He stared at me and I knew I must've looked a mess, he let me sit in silence, nervously running my fingers through my hair.

"Take off your panties,"

I laughed nervously, but was met with a stern look that sent a rush through me.

"Wow, Julian, really?"

"Do I look like I'm fucking around? Should I drive back?"

I moved automatically, unbuckling my seat belt, lifting my hips and slipping them down my thighs, down my knees, to my ankles.

"Stop," he stared at them there, seemingly mesmerized, "leave them there,"

"What? Fuck!" He ignored me, unzipping his pants, slipping out his cock.

"I want your lips wrapped around my dick. Don't make me repeat myself."

I snapped out of my reverie immediately, pushing my hair back, taking him firmly in hand.

"God." he hissed as my hand worked up and down the length of his thickness. I wasn't sure I could get away with teasing him and I wasn't about to test whatever boundaries that had been lain down.

"Cadence . . . look at that face!"

He could read the lustful expression with an ease that excited me, I concentrated only on the hard, throbbing member in my grip. His pleasure was second to nothing, I wanted him to come thinking only of me. To come for me, on me. It was a sick thought that ran through my head, I thought, how perverted I must be.

"Oh fuck, baby," he groaned as I jerked him off quickly, "calm down. Slow," he managed to choke out as he took a fist to my hair. A small yelp of surprise escaped me as he dragged my head to his cock, "now suck."

"Oh!"

I licked at the head of his hard pole, my hand slowing to an excruciating, glacial pace. I swirled my tongue over it before I took it in my mouth, just barely sucking as I pumped slowly. I moved my other hand from supporting myself to massage his balls.

"Hmmmphhh, you fucking tease,"

I glanced up momentarily to see his eyes glazed over, lost in the pleasure of my warm, wet mouth tight around him. My lips stretched to accommodate to his swollen thickness, I sank my mouth lower on his cock, taking him millimeter by millimeter. I moaned around him, loving the way he felt in my mouth. I grew a perverse pride in giving him this moment of untranslatable pleasure- a sort of warmth that grows and growls into a roaring flame. I was dousing him with gasoline, I wanted to set him ablaze. "Fuck!" he dismissed my hands and tangled his fingers in my hair, pumping into my mouth, fucking me. I struggled not to gag around him, my strangled cries for him to slow down lost in the filter, "choke on it, bitch!"

He thrust into my face, using me for his own lewd pleasure, and I was endlessly aroused by it. He growled, I could feel him start to tense. I was just a pair of lips at that point. I was just a hot mouth to defile and suck at him, to beg for him and moan around his dick. He stopped suddenly, pulling my head off of him.

"Stop, stop, I'm going to come!"

"What?" I gasped, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Give me your panties," he groaned, his cock looking angry, shining wet with my saliva.

In a haze, I turned from him, quickly slipping them off of my ankles, and balling them up. I knew they were damp and was oddly ashamed of the fact. He took them from me, moving his seat back

"Get over here, straddle me."

I closed my eyes for a moment, "Julian!"

"Don't you dare refuse! Get over here."

I climbed over to the driver's seat, my legs on either side of his, and he pushed my skirt up, grabbing my pussy.

"Fuck, you're dripping!"

I blushed, unable to look away from his face. A look of surprise veiling the immense pleasure he found in my blush. He dragged two fingers up and down the length of me, rubbing my wetness over my clit.

"Oh you gorgeous whore," he growled as I closed my eyes, not daring to hold his hand to my cunt, "here," he pulled his fingers away from my wet slit and a whine from my mouth as he brought them to my lips.

"Suck," he gave me a look that warned me of any protests as they parted, "oh you sweet cunt," he began to fuck my mouth with his fingers, letting me moan around them. God! It was so fucking dirty!

"That's enough," he scolded, kissing me hard, probing his tongue into my mouth.

"Hmmmphh," it was an impassioned, famished kiss. He was finding a cure to some malignant disease in my mouth. He needed me, I felt it in the urgency, in famished bites and licks.

"Okay, okay," he pulled away, slightly breathless. He reached into his pocket, balling up my panties, "open," he said as though he were a doctor with a tongue depressor.

I groaned as he stuffed my mouth, gagging me with my own panties.

"I want you to fuck me. No fucking around. I want to come in you." the words came out of him like a waterfall, he needed me. I don't know who was more desperate at that point.

I did, too. I lowered myself onto his hard, waiting cock. It felt impossibly large, I whined behind my gag, the taste of my own juices still in my mouth, cotton and cunt. He watched my face in some rapt fascination, watching my expression as I impaled myself on his thick, hard dick.

"Cadence, Ohh!"

I closed my eyes, my pleasure was so immense, my need so chaotic that any humiliation of the act was irrelevant. The way he stretched me, filled me with his cock. I moaned his name into my own fucking panties.

"Fuck me, Baby!"

Oh, and I did. I was enraptured, rocking my hips, riding him. I worked myself on his cock. Using him, taking him. It felt so obscene! I knew it must look so incredibly lewd. My eyes were shut tight, my teeth clenched. There was nothing but his hardness throbbing inside me as I slid up and down his thick cock. I was taken away, taking him with me.

"Oh, Oh, Fuck!" his hands had found their way onto my ass, clawing into me, moving me as fast as he needed me.

His whole body seemed to seize up, holding me tight, rearranging the molecules in the air with a deep groan.

I felt him coming inside me like he was filling me with his soul. I felt his warm seed gushing into me and I couldn't help but claw into him. He jerked into me, pushing his hips up, piercing me with his cock.

His whole body relaxed, then, taking the panties from my mouth. He pocketed them, pulling me to him. Seeking me out, covering his mouth with mine, gasping into me, groaning for me. Kissing, kissing me with slow, grateful fervor- passionate, reassuring.

"Good girl!"

Driving back, he had me look through his CDs and slip in something burned that I couldn't recognize. A lack of words didn't provide any tension or seem to perturb either us. We were lighter, full of each other. I sat back, watching him drive. I stared openly, as though I hadn't looked at him before. In his cerulean blue dress shirt and black trousers, he looked the part of conductor; his face at rest was serious, seemed to make some statement about how seriously he took himself, how he demanded respect. Those lips that were just on my face, neck, and chest. Those hands loose on the steering wheel, those knowing hands that seemed so sure of every touch, so sure I'd love it.