Possess Me Ch. 12

Dear Readers,

Thank you for your encouraging remarks, and for those of you who have taken the time to send me such thoughtful emails. I greatly appreciate it all. I am reticent to post this chapter so quickly as I have NO clue yet how I am going to write the next chapter, so the wait will be longer. I really want to hold this one another few days, while I at least get my bearings, but I know you wouldn't appreciate that. So, please enjoy! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated as is voting if you so choose!

Thanks,

Titania

PS...This is late in coming, but I wanted to give a special thanks to Jayna Vixen for all of her support and advice throughout this story!

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Her body undulated gracefully, a primal rhythm flowing through her limbs like the stars layering the heavens. Her breasts rose and fell with each arching of her body. Her breath came in full, deep draughts of cold air. Her hair, once pinned and proper, now spilled freely as her body rose and fell in synchrony with the beast between her thighs. Power surged through her again and again, causing racing sensation to enliven not only her flesh, but her very soul. As her brain finally gave up to the fullness of the pleasure to be had, Brynna exploded in happiness, her loud, excited laughter ringing out over the white field.

"Very well done, my lady!" Brom's voice boomed from the center of the expansive circle she and Malik galloped around. Brynna beamed over at her coach who rode next to her, keeping his horse in pace with hers. Though she still tightly clutched the horse with her thighs and held onto the reins until her gloved knuckles were doubtless white, she felt the pure exhilaration of traveling at such great speed and was overcome by the inescapable tremor of the joy it brought.

At each violent fall of their hooves, the horses' powerful exhalations spouted out into the beautiful, crisp morning air. Brynna continued to giggle with the cathartic release of her fears as she rode upon her mount's back.

"Very good. Now, don't slump forward. That's right, keep your back straight," Malik guided from her side. He inspected her form and placed his hand upon her back or shoulders to gently manipulate her posture as he saw fit. He smiled mildly, acknowledging not only her keen ability to conform to his touch and respond with a beautiful sense of self, but at the strength evident in her accomplishment, despite her great reservations. She truly was fearless.

After a time, they slowed their rides to a canter and then a walk. Brynna was still breathing heavily from her laughter. Her lovely high cheeks were painted red and her brown eyes sparkled with the exercise. Eventually, they followed Brom back to the stables. Enjoying his former master's demotion entirely too much, Brom was at Brynna's side immediately to help her dismount before Malik could reach her. They shared a conspiratorial smile before he released her.

"Thank you, very much Brom. It was quite an enjoyable morning," she said cheerfully as she stepped back so he could remove the tack.

"Of course, my lady. It is my great pleasure to watch you ride. Especially today. You should be quite proud of yourself," he chattered on merrily.

Brynna smiled to herself, the glow of her triumph bubbling within her. She stood in front of her horse, who, in Brynna's time back, she had named Ada. The name had belonged to the baker's wife she worked with before being uprooted and transplanted into a home of little warmth. In a moment of desperate need for the strength only a loving mother could give, Brynna had christened the horse with the name, hoping remnants of that love would lingered enough to empower her through the teachings of her riding masters. In due time, lessons were learned, and she vaulted to greater speeds.

Standing in front of Ada now, Brynna peered into her large, wet eyes, wishing to see herself as the animal did. The horse lowered her head and nuzzled her hand hidden in her cape. Laughing lightly at the horses unspoken request, she reached into a pocket and pulled out a few chunks of dried sugar beets. In her attempt at bribing the horse to not kill her, Brynna quickly learned which tiny morsels she preferred. Dried sugar beets were her favorite, and it had become a comforting ritual the two of them partook of after each ride.

Brynna bit her lower lip in giddy nervousness as the horse lipped them from her flat, outstretched palm. She always felt a rise of her stomach whenever the horse pressed its thick, searching lips over her vulnerable flesh. When Ada finished the small offering, Brynna lifted a still tentative hand up to stroke the long muzzle. Brynna smiled and nodded as she acknowledged her plan had worked; the horse hadn't killed her...yet.

When Malik had finished grooming Aeris, he led him to his stall and fetched some fresh grain. He stood, patting the shiny, black beast as it ground the foodstuff. After a moment, he emerged from the dark corner and approached Brynna. She stood explaining to Brom her rushing feeling of euphoria when she opened her eyes to find herself galloping horseback.

Malik felt a tightening in his lower stomach as he watched the other man smile down at her. When the month was up, Malik wanted to quarantine her away from all those that distracted her attention from him. He smiled secretly at the dark pleasure the idea held. But then he paused in stride; her words spoken just the night before floated into his mind, causing him to question his actions. Would exercising his authority as her master by keeping her solely to himself for several days (alright then, perhaps a week) be wrong? Would that stifle who she was? How can it be stifling to simply make a command of her as her master? It wouldn't be as if I would deny all those many qualities she claims maker her who she is. I would simply be keeping them for myself. And yet, somewhere, there was a conflict between his words and how he felt. He sighed to himself, She even makes me doubt myself.

He had little time to further explore the grumbling thought when she turned and smiled shyly at him. "Shall we?" she asked, indicating it was time to return to the keep. He nodded and followed. The brightness of the sun-lit snow momentarily blinded him until his eyes adjusted.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what, my lady?"

"For your help, of course. I'd fear to venture why you first thought to force me to ride. But now that I am able, even though I am certainly still afraid, I feel better for it, stronger somehow." She sighed and then chuckled. "Funny, is it not," she remarked with a trace of ironic humor in her voice, "that your attempt to no doubt scare me actually made me stronger."

They followed the shoveled, well-trodden path through the snow, their feet squishing in the mud underneath. As they walked up the small, steep hill, Brynna's foot slipped and she fell forward, arms stretched out to catch herself. But she never hit the cold, soft ground as a strong arm wrapped around her waist and a hand clasped one of her own. She was pulled quickly back until she felt herself slam against his firm body.

The slip of her stomach that accompanies a fall had the keen nerves of her arms, legs, and face rushing about in disorganized frenzy. Her breath came in rushes for a moment or two before her body calmed. "Thank you," she breathed, catching up to the drunk sensation such an event causes. Quickly, she became aware of all the places she felt tingly because he held her so close. Slowly, her outstretched hand that was clasped in his came back to her center, and they stood, his arms around her, her body melting into his embrace.

"Are you alright, my lady?" he breathed in her ear.

She swallowed, and nodded. Though it felt wrong to, she lifted his hands apart and stepped away from him. "Yes, I am fine," she answered, her words standing alone as her frame suddenly seemed small and diminishing. Before he could touch her again, she continued along the path as before.

"You are wrong." His voice stopped her, and she turned to him, eyeing her intensely. "You are wrong as to why I made you learn to ride."

She straightened at that, quickly realizing that he was not talking about her state of being. She cocked her head to the side and looked at him, silently requesting he continue.

Malik sighed and then continued walking, now next to her as they finished the muddy trail to the castle. "It was wrong, that you should fear the horse and not me, as if I had no power over you. And though I felt some amount of triumph at your fear, it wasn't for me and it seemed inconsistent with your bravery I came to know. It seemed imperfect, your strength, and because I had coveted it, wanted it for my own, I had to fix it."

They had reached a side door Brynna had learned the master of the house used instead of the ones at the back near the kitchens. She looked down at her muddy feet and felt regretful she would track it across Ann's clean floors, her mind folding in his words. They stood just inside the door, neither speaking as he waited for her to respond, and she waited for her own feelings to settle on the subject. At length, she looked up with a face neither angry nor amused.

"At luncheon today, I wish for you to learn something new about Ann. It matters not what it is," only that you do not make her cry with your harsh words when you do it, she finished silently. "After, you may complete any tasks Eleanor has for you. Then find me in the plant room," as she completed her instructions, they walked down the long, narrow hallway together, emerging at the end to part ways.

After her own luncheon, she called for Saul and spoke with him for half an hour before he departed to pack a satchel. He did not leave on his horse however, but was driven from the keep by Wal in the master's carriage.

Brynna summoned Eleanor and instructed her succinctly, spending as little time as possible with the woman. When Eleanor left, Brynna chided herself for acting so cowardly. Well, it is not as if she ever attempted to be a friend. Besides, I am no longer under her, I am above her. Perhaps we are not meant to be friends.

But it is not how you speak with Bea or even Brom, and they are even further beneath her station.

Yes, but I like them.

Aha. And perhaps you would like her, as well, if you would only work at it. What do you hold against her? That she was stern when you arrived? That she knows of your intimacy with the master? After all, was she not in an awkward place, answering for all your acts of rebellion towards him? Did he hold her responsible for your misdeeds? Imagine how Malik no doubt spoke to her when she had to report you had refused to eat. Surely you filled her with an equal amount of dread. Though she came to no decision about further interaction, Brynna did feel better for her chastisement, finally deciding she had not been completely understanding of the older woman. She went to her plant room, smiling at the thought of the time to come to spend with Malik.

During their afternoon together, Brynna questioned him further on the sort of business he generally partook of. She learned he made most of his money purchasing land from ailing or retrenching lords and landowners who found themselves of diminished means. Though he sometimes kept special or important properties for himself, he often resold to wealthy neighbors. Using those monies gained, he had also purchased two ships that brought cargo back from savage lands of exotic wonder.

"Do you not think to keep the land and increase your holdings? That way, perhaps you could then allow serfs onto your land to work it, make it profitable for a continued income and also help those in need," Brynna offered as she harvested seeds from a newly producing plant.

Malik gave no immediate reply until she looked up from her work, clearly expecting an answer. He sighed in a manner she had quickly recognized as his preparation for logically disagreeing with her. As their conversations' content had considerably expanded within the past weeks' time, she grew to recognize his, albeit, respectful, disagreement with her suggestions.

"To have more under my care is not what I would wish for."

"And yet you have so much. What is its purpose if not to be used? And what better use than to help others?" She stared at him with such purity and goodness that he momentarily felt uncomfortable at the comparison with himself.

Malik had never considered himself an evil person, only powerful. And he always believed the purpose of power was to gain more. Naturally, she would think to help others. She cannot help it. But it does not mean it is the only purpose money can serve, he attempted to comfort himself. And yet, perhaps it wasn't just her strength he envied.

After dinner, he guided her writing practice. She informed him she wished to write several letters to her friends and father.

"But he cannot read."

"Yes, but Saul can read it for him," she countered smoothly, ignoring the disdain in his voice that suggested sparing her father a drop of ink was a waste beyond count. As she slowly wrote the letters, she began idle conversation.

"And how did you find speaking with Ann?" she asked as she slowly formed words, the lines and curves and pulls of the letters appearing as more confident strokes than her previous attempts. She smiled satisfied at her continual improvement.

Malik remained silent only a moment, forming a positive response. "She is a good girl. A bit skittish, perhaps," he added, as if to himself.

Brynna's eyes fluttered up in a warning, before she dipped the nib into the inkwell. The small tap, tap, tap could be heard against the well before the scratching on the parchment resumed. Her silence was his invitation to continue the discourse on what he had learned. He sighed and sat back, taking a drink of the wine before him. It had been her cup, but the action spoke of familiarity and intimacy that surprisingly warmed her chest and cheeks as she watched him set it down. He never acknowledged the presumptuous act, but stared ahead, thoughts swirling in his eyes.

He sighed and continued. "She was not easy to speak to."

Brynna tried to hide her smile at the sound of frustration in his voice. "Why so? Were you not kind?"

"Exceptionally," he countered. "I commented on the soaps she had been making, asked if she was satisfied with the improvement. She could only nod." He sighed dramatically once more and sat forward, eyeing Brynna sternly. "It is commendable that you should arrange for either me to make friends or for my staff to not fear me, but, my lady, it is not realistic. After all, this demotion, no matter how low, will only last a short time, and they are not likely to forget that. No," he said with finality, settling back in his chair, "it is not the natural order that I should befriend them."

Brynna frowned at him, clearly confused. "How is it, then, Malik, that I, once a mere slave, have become your friend? If it is not the natural order, I dare say you should never have spoken to me, let alone given me a beautiful room, clothing, riding lessons, easy chores."

He narrowed his eyes. "But you were different, are different, as I explained the other night." She wanted to know, but was afraid to ask and so turned back to her writing. After a time in further silence, he departed to prepare her tea and left to restock all the rooms with more firewood.

Brynna was left to her thoughts, the dark ones filled with fear and doubt. She admitted she had made great progress with him. He now understood the frustration of an unbalanced relationship, that he wanted her for who she was, and to command her as he had attempted would only strip away that which he desired. He still viewed himself apart from the others, even for this short time. Would he always distance himself from her? Would she always be his slave?

After all, what did she know of his feelings for her? He desired her; that was obvious. He admired her strength; he had admitted as much himself. And she believed he felt true remorse for his awful treatment of her. But it wasn't enough, not as long as he still believed she was bound to him because he owned her. Even if she was ever able to earn his love, if the foundation of their relationship was his ownership over her, she couldn't trust that he would not hurt her.

And his ability to hurt her was beyond her strength to survive again.

She kept to herself that evening, dismissing him to fill his time elsewhere. Though she missed him, being near him was causing her growing discomfort. While she bathed that night, her mind drifted to him, to his hands on her, to the smell of his skin, to the fire in his eyes. As she laid her head back, her desperation to succeed and the fatigue from countless hours spent in thought over the situation overtook her heart. She felt her eyes fill with hot tears and slowly slide down her cheeks. Drained of energy after her cathartic bath, Brynna sunk deep into her bed, knowing the new day would bring new strength.

Malik's eyes drifted slowly open and he focused on the stone wall near his bed. He frowned at not seeing his bed curtains pulled to, but as he turned, his body registered the stiff bed beneath him that was far from the luxury he was used to. And then he remembered his punishment to sleep in the staff's quarters. He sighed as he put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling above. Judging by the darkness of his room, his waking time was at least an hour away.

His brain was muddled by the various thoughts and emotions the past fortnight had wrought upon him. Bringing his hands up, he growled as he rubbed them invigoratingly over his face. He knew instinctively that she had chosen to ignore him the day before and felt the tightness deep inside that her snubbing caused. Though they had not been on agreeing terms, he could not see that their conversation should have caused her to be angry with him. And yet, what was the cause of being set aside and forgotten? He lay upon his uncomfortable bed scowling darkly. He did not enjoy her willful absence and was at a loss as what to do.

Only two more weeks remained, but Malik was growing apprehensive about what was still to come. He had given her the time as an allurement, knowing that he stood the best chance to bring her back if he gave her some amount of authority, even if temporarily. He had phrased the offer as an opportunity for her to teach him what it felt like to be a slave. Her anger was to be expected, and she had treated him not surprisingly.

But then something changed in her demeanor. She was no longer a hurt, angry slave acting the part of a dominating master, mocking his previous performance. Brynna had begun to manipulate him so that he found himself in her perspective, looking at their former relationship as she had experienced it. And yet, there was no malice in her teachings. Quite the opposite, in fact, and it was her shift of attitude that left him befuddled. How could she have gone from hating him so, afraid of the beast that he was, to allowing him to touch her intimately, and touch him in return?

His heart fluttered at the thought that she meant to truly change the situation for the better. Did she, he wondered desperately, still love him? Malik admitted his love for her, and recognized that feeling as the impetus behind his need for her love in return. With that understanding, he set his resolve. He would no longer simply obey and pacify her. He determined to avail himself to the lessons she would lay out. In doing so, he would gain the knowledge of what it would take for her to willingly give herself over when the time came.

With his resolution firmly screwed to the sticking place, Malik felt a surge of energy and eagerness to start the day. Though it was still dark out, he washed and set about lighting the fires of the castle. He was just finishing bringing the fire in the great hall to a roar when Eleanor descended the stairs.