7 comments/ 2996 views/ 5 favorites The Weight of The Ocean By: MysweetDragon1969 Marcus was having the most delicious dream. Pleasure was flooding throughout his body, gently penetrating through the veil of sleep and lighting up his nervous system in the most delightful way. He hovered on the cusp of waking, floating on an undulating current of bliss, moaning sleepily, enjoying the ride. Endorphins released into his blood stream, stimulating his groggy brain and adding to his heightened state of arousal. A familiar pressure pulsing from the region of his groin caught his drifting attention, making him focus on the source. His cock was awake and sending waves of feel good to his brain and he thought to himself that this was a pretty awesome dream so far. The next thing that he became aware of was an enticing scent that teased his senses, making him flare his nostrils, inhaling a lungful of the intoxicating aroma. His heartbeat picked up pace as understanding dawned and he shook off the last vestiges of slumber, curiosity and sudden lust urging him to open his sleepy eyelids just a fraction to take a peek and confirm what his dick was so desperately to tell him. It took a second for his eyes to focus, but he didn't begrudge the delay because an instant later, his eyes were filled with the most glorious sight he could have had the luck to behold. Hovering above him, swollen and dripping like an overripe peach, was Tabitha's pretty, pink, little pussy. She was straddling him, facing away, her thighs spread and pressing their warm softness against his arms that lay on the bed at his sides. Her perfectly rounded ass rose before him like twin moons filling his perspective. He sighed, freed one of his arms and reached up to stroke the expanse of creamy skin just to reassure himself that he was, indeed, awake. Warm, soft flesh met his palm and he dropped his hand back down with a happy grin splitting his face. Best. Morning. Ever. He lay back, looking down his chest where Tabby's breast hung free, pert nipples just barely brushing against his belly as they swung slowly. Past that wonderful view, Marcus could see his cock, standing semi erect and gradually being worked to life by Tabby's talented mouth. Watching his shaft disappear and then reappear all wet and shiny with her saliva was probably one of the most erotic sights he'd ever seen. She had to know he was awake now, but didn't seem bothered that he was watching her. In fact, she cocked her head just enough to look back at him and give him a sultry look and a wink before turning back to focus her mouth on the task at hand. The mouth in question was currently engaged in a long, slow plunge down his cock, taking his length so deep into her throat that Marcus thought he'd die from the exquisite sensation that was verging on torment. When her tongue flattened against the underside of his cock, sliding with excruciating slowness as she pulled back, Marcus' eyes actually rolled so far to the back of his head that he swore he got a bird's eye view of the interior of his own skull. He sighed in blissful contentment, arching his hips, meeting her in a slow dance, more than happy to let her enjoy herself. Hey, if the little minx loved making use of his morning wood, who was he to object? His beautiful submissive going down on him was a better way to wake up than any damn alarm clock. Unable to resist the need to touch her any longer, Marcus ghosted his fingertips up the insides of each of her thighs, a devilish grin turning the corners of his lips up. The stretch of delicate skin was one of Tabby's most sensitive erogenous zones and she'd been known to come just from him touching her there. Sure enough, he watched transfixed, as a quiver rippled through her muscles like a shockwave, reaching her pussy and making its petals and opening flare and clench at him in a saucy, "come hither" wink, as if to say: "Come on big boy. You know you want to." A primal surge of lust electrified his body, rushing up from his groin and blasting into his brain, bringing him from pleasantly drowsy to painfully hard in a matter of seconds. Tabby hummed in delight as his cock thickened and lengthened in her mouth, coming fully erect, making him too long for her to take him fully into her throat. Always prepared to adapt, she took full advantage of the extra length by wrapping her small fist around his base and squeezing him tightly in time to her bobbing head. His brain nearly exploded with the fierce blast of ecstasy that washed over him and he knew that it wasn't going to take him long if she kept that murderous pace up. "Angel," he groaned, grimacing with the increasing tension in his testicles. "You're gonna end this too soon if you keep that up." "Are you asking me to stop, Daddy?" She giggled around the length of his shaft, the vibrations very nearly making him lose control. Then the little temptress lowered her ass until it was just inches from his face and gave it a salacious little wiggle. It was just enough movement to cause a drop of dew to fall from her glistening pussy and land squarely on his lips, as if she had planned it that way. He felt the drop splash on his bottom lip and he flicked out his tongue to lick it away. The salty sweetness of her taste blossomed on his tongue and his willingness to submit vanished with his need to take control of his mischievous little submissive. Big hands latched onto her ass cheeks, their fleshy weight settling into his palms and almost disappearing underneath his spread of his hands. He wanted to eat her alive and licked his way up her thigh until he reached the underside of her ass. He teased her with his tongue, sucking some of the flesh into his mouth and then biting down hard enough to make her yelp. Her startled sound quickly deepened into a shuddering groan as the sharp pain transformed into a pleasure so profound that her breath caught in her throat robbing her of the ability to breathe. He pulled back and admired the twin crescent imprints of his teeth embossed into her skin, his chest swelling with alpha male possessiveness. Gripping her ass cheeks roughly, he spread the two halves apart, exposing the sweet, succulent center of his woman, all his to be plundered. He raised his head and pulled her down towards him, overcome by a ravenous need for her. His greedy mouth collided with her wet center and he growled with caveman satisfaction as her juices coated his tongue. Screw expensive wines. He'd take Tabitha's pussy ambrosia and die a happy man. His tongue speared into velvety softness, lapping at her folds and teasing her clit, making her quiver and jerk. She was so wet that he could feel trickles of moisture sliding over his chin and down his neck and it spurred him to attack her with renewed vigor, driving her crazy. She let out a deep feral sound and ground down onto his face, his cock abandoned as she lost control and surrendered to his will. He was so lost in her scent and taste that he barely registered the sound of her cell phone rattling and blaring out some obnoxious ringtone from the nightstand beside his head. One minute, he was feasting like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet, the next, his mouth was empty, his meal having suddenly vanished. Tabby scuttled over him and bounded off the bed before his befuddled brain could engage and prevent her escape. "What the fuck?" He growled in irritation, glaring at her as she grabbed her phone and skipped out of his reach. "Leave it and come back to bed!" The phone started in on another round of the ringtone and Tabby laughed at him, "I have to take it! It's my mom." She made a sign for him to shush and put the phone to her ear, her thumb sliding over the phone's screen to accept the call. "You're killing me here, baby girl," he groused, flopping back on the bed, sounding like a boy who'd just dropped his ice cream on the ground. He swore he wouldn't whine but fuck, his cock was aching and his was so ramped up that he could barely think past the driving imperative to claim his woman and get himself inside her. Mouth, pussy, ass. He didn't care, so long as it was hot, wet, tight and His. She waved at him to be quiet and waited for the call to connect. "Hi mom," Tabby said brightly, stifling giggles as Marcus pointed at his ramrod stiff cock and made crude hand gestures to her. She started to smile back at him but the happy expression suddenly stalled, half-formed on her face. Concerned, Marcus sat up in bed, alarm diffusing his aroused state as if he'd been doused with a bucket of ice water. Bad news. Shit! It had to be bad news. Marcus didn't need a flashing neon sign to figure out that somehow, an innocent incoming call had just derailed the normal course of their life in the blink of an eye. He felt the shift vibrate into his soul, the innate sense that fate had just diverted them onto an express track into Shitsville. This feeling of dread was confirmed by the stunned, shocked look on Tabby's face that spoke volumes, even though she hadn't uttered a single word after greeting her mom. Blink. When he opened his eyes next, the playful smile on his face dropped into one of confusion, his brain stuttering and tripping as it tried to figure out what the hell had changed. The sense that his reality had just been profoundly altered, left him feeling like he'd been suddenly thrust into a real life 'spot the difference' puzzle and he couldn't put his finger on what exactly had changed. He floundered, stuck trying to mental compare two instances in time so fast that it made him dizzy. Tabitha stood in the exact same place she had been a split second before, but now it was as if a stranger had taken the place of his beautiful lover - a stranger that had the same lush curves; the same long, chestnut brown, curly hair; the same flawless, naked skin. He could even see the same crescent shaped bite mark he'd left on her ass, just begin to bruise. The woman standing there looked like his Tabby. Yet, at the same time, he didn't recognize her. He squeezed his eyes closed, opened them up and sure enough, the imposter was still there. A thief had snuck in and taken his vivacious, sexy girl, leaving him a cheap, two-dimensional imitation of her in her place. He knew that this was an outlandish conclusion but he was in such a state of shock that it was the only plausible explanation his stunned brain could come up with. The woman he knew - whose taste still coated his lips and whose scent was still making him hard - that woman had just simply disappeared. Tabby's muscles had stiffened, losing the sultry, fluidity that had never ceased to turn him on. He loved to watch her move when she was naked, petite as she was, she moved with the grace of a dancer, especially when she was trying to seduce him. Now though, her movements were rigid, as if her joints had suddenly aged forty years in the five minutes since the call had come in. Swallowing hard against a rising tide of dread, Marcus watched helplessly as she listened, her eyes gone flat and dark and the lusty blush dripped away from rosy cheeks, leaving her chalk white. Her lips, narrowed to sharp lines, parted and an abrupt intake of air rushed in to fill the sudden vacuum in her lungs. The cellphone, which she'd been so excited to answer, was now cradled like a live grenade in a hand that had gone white as sun bleached bone. The protruding knuckles on the back of her hand, a testament to the death grip she had on it. She was clutching the device so hard that he could see fine tremors shaking her arm from the tension in her muscles. His mind did a mental 'What the fuck?' unable to take in the startling transformation occurring right before his eyes. The urge to violently shake his head, in hopes of jarring himself out of this bizarre alternate reality, came over him but his muscles wouldn't obey. Instead he just sat there, frozen in disbelief. For several minutes, she listened to her mother speak while he anxiously waited, straining to overhear some tidbit of information that would explain the suffocating shroud that had befallen their room. He shuddered as her face went from sheet white to ash grey and her other tiny hand fisted against her chest, unconsciously trying to protect herself from the stabbing pain of the news she was receiving. "Tabby?" he called out, trying to get her attention. He was concerned and more than a little bit frightened. "What's happened?" She just shook her head dismissively at him and moved further away, putting as much space between them as she could without exiting their bedroom. She turned her back to him and in her naked state, the pallor of her skin combined with the stiffness in her muscles, making her look like a goddess chiselled from marble. "When?" The whispered, lost sound to her voice sent a flurry of cold shivers crawling over his naked skin like a horde of insects, biting and stinging as they skittered. Even her voice was unrecognizable - emotionless and brittle. She had gone from sounding bright and alive like brilliant summer, to the cold, lonely death of winter. "Tabby!" he barked, more forcefully this time, getting to his feet. The bed sheet fell like a snowdrift from his lap, puddling on the floor in a pool of expensive, Egyptian cotton. She had begun pacing, ignoring him while she spoke quietly into the phone. He took a step towards her and the movement caught her attention, making her cast an agitated look over her shoulder. If the sight of him standing gloriously naked had had any effect on her, she didn't show any sign - she looked at him as if he had become a stranger to her as well. She spun around, thrusting out her hand, palm facing him in the universal signal to stop and halting him in his tracks. His brow furrowed in confusion and concern, silently begging her to loop him in. She shook her head, acknowledging his wordless question and then she spoke the words that brought brutal clarity crashing into him like a semi-truck hitting him at highway speed. "When is the funeral?" Her steady gaze nailed his feet to the floor and he couldn't move. The sense of unreality deepened and he swayed slightly, his internal center of balance suddenly shifting faster than his inner ear could compensate. He actually stared down at his feet to see if the rug was still there and fully expecting to see that it had been pulled away. Someone had died. Someone close to his Tabby. Fuck! What the hell was going on? "Mom," her voice broke and she nearly lost the strangle hold she had on her emotions. "There wasn't anything you could have done...that any of us could have done." She took a moment to close her eyes and breathe then continued in a resigned tone. "We knew that this day was coming...had been ever since Dad died. I guess his demons finally got too big for him to fight." She listened a moment, her beautiful green eyes dulled to the colour of moss. "Don't cry, Mom. Please...he's..." He saw her swallow hard and take a deep, tremulous breath. "He's finally at peace, Mom," she whispered. A lone tear glistened at the corner of her eye, before tracking down over her pale cheek. She brushed it angrily away with the back of the hand that was still clenched into a fist. It was the first sign of emotion he's seen since she'd answered that call, a microscopic crack in her armour that Tabby quickly sealed up before the tear drop had had time to fall off her hand. Troy. Dear God in heaven. Something must have happened to her twin brother. His heart ached in his chest - not for the troubled young man, whom he'd only met once, but for his beloved baby girl and the heartrending loss that she had just experienced. This was going to rip her apart, he thought. The shock of Troy's death explained the walls he could feel and see her erecting around herself at lightning speed, drawing further away from him with every breath. Circling the wagons and retreating was her way of dealing with overwhelming situations and she was in full defensive mode now. "Have Jason call me as soon as the coroner releases the body. I'll fly out as soon as I can. Okay. You too. I love you." She pressed the button to end her call and turned away from him. Dawn chose that moment to break and a shaft of early morning sunshine spilled through the parted curtains that hung on either side of the bay window in their master bedroom. Sunlight fell upon her naked body gilding her in molten gold and his body reacted instinctively. The erotic picture made his breath catch and he stared at her brilliant silhouette in a state of rapt amazement. The sight completely short circuited his brain and unbidden lust rushed into his cock. And didn't that just make him a heel? She had just found out that her twin brother had died and all he could think about was how fucking beautiful she looked right now. He groaned inwardly letting his eyes feast on the soft curves of her breasts, illuminated like golden globes in the sunshine. His gaze took a long, slow journey down her body, taking in every delectable curve and hollow, silently thanking God that she was his. He wanted nothing more than to walk up to her, bend her over and sink his straining cock into her heat, giving her his strength and taking her pain. Somehow, genius that he was, he knew that she would not appreciate being ravaged, so he just stood like a dummy, watching the woman he loved disappear before his very eyes. God! She was just so tiny compared to his hulking six and a half foot frame, that even from half the room away, he still felt gigantic in comparison. It still amazed him how perfectly they fit together. He had been so scared of hurting her, the first time he'd taken her, but fit they had. Her body stretched and she took every inch of him as if she'd been expressly made just for him. It had taken awhile for him to get over the fear of hurting her every time they fucked or he took her into his playroom, but in the course of their play, he had seen what a warrior his woman was, begging him for more, and he fell even more in love with her. Without warning, his erection gave a forceful jerk - that s.o.b. had a one track mind and a piss poor sense of timing, making him feel even worse than he already did. Not the time, you idiot! He chastised himself, closing his eyes and forcing himself to imagine anything other than how good it would feel to lose himself inside her slick depths. He recited a grocery list, ran through the times tables and made a mental 'honey-do' list in his head until the pressure between his legs began to subside. The last thing she needed to see was him aroused. It would make her hate him and that was the last thing he wanted. She was so strong that he had believed her to be unbreakable, had taken her resilience for granted even. Until the phone call. The strength that he had admired in her had turned against her now, shoring up her defences such that nothing could hurt her. Locked in behind those walls, nothing could get out either. Rage, tears, screaming - these things he could have dealt with, been there to comfort her and help her through her grief. This emptiness though? This he couldn't understand and had no way to deal with. When he cracked his lids again, she was still standing in the same position, staring out the open window, heedless of her nakedness or who might happen to see. Her blank expression and dry eyes raised all sorts of alarm bells clanging in his head, warning him that something was very wrong with this situation. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked gently, taking another step towards her. The sound of his voice seemed to shake her back to reality and she blinked rapidly before staring forlornly down at the black screen of the phone in her hand. Her eyes narrowed and for a minute, Marcus thought that she was going to hurl the device at the wall. Instead, she dropped it on top of her dresser and turned to face him. The Weight of The Ocean "Troy's dead." Well, that confirmed his fears. "Oh baby girl, I'm so sorry." "Jason went by to check on him last night and found him hanging from the door frame in his bedroom." The matter-of-fact way she spoke, chilled him to his marrow. She could have been reciting the phonebook for all the emotion she was showing and it stunned him. She took advantage of his shock and before he could say another word, grabbed her robe and disappeared behind the door of the bathroom. The door closed before his addled brain had time to process her last statement and he could react. He darted for the door just as the sound of the lock engaging cracked through the stillness of their bedroom like a gunshot to his heart. "Tabby!" he called through the door, rattling the handle uselessly. She didn't answer, drowning out his demands to open the door by turning the water on and letting it splash noisily into the tub. Marcus knew that he could easily break in, the lock was just a simple one designed to be easily picked, but something told him that forcing his way in would be counterproductive and would only push her further away. The shower turned on and he heard the glass door slide open and shut as she stepped into the tub. He sighed, frustration adding a layer of weariness on top of his worry that was only going to get worse in the coming days. He ran a hand through sleep tousled hair and scrubbed at his stumbled face with his palms, as if that simple act could possibly put this fucked up morning back to normal. He was worried for Tabitha, but wasn't sure what the hell he could do until she was ready to let him in to help her deal with her grief. Giving up, he strode across the hall and used the main bathroom to wash and shave, not knowing what else to do. When he was done, he went back into the bedroom to get dressed expecting to find Tabby, but to his surprise, she was nowhere to be found. He threw on some clothes and followed the smell of breakfast into the kitchen where he found her standing by the stove cooking. He stood in the doorway, not really comprehending the sight that greeted him. Tabby was busy scrambling eggs, behaving as if nothing had happened. She spooned them from the frying pan onto a waiting plate already loaded with toast and cut fruit. The everyday normality of the scene struck him as utterly bizarre and more than a little disturbing. In his astonishment at her behaviour, it took him a few seconds longer to realize that she was dressed for work and had a bag lunch waiting on the counter. "What are you doing, baby girl?" He asked, incredulity making his throat tight. "Making your breakfast, Daddy," she replied as if it should have been obvious. This was her normal routine but seeing her now just felt all kinds of wrong to him. "Tabs, baby, you don't need to do this, sweetheart. Come. Sit with me and we'll talk." He walked up behind her, intending to hug her to his chest but she sidestepped at the last minute evading his arms. "I can't. I'm late. I'm going to work." That was all she said before turning away, grabbing her purse and keys and flying out the front door. The 'what-the-fuck' moments just kept rolling in, Marcus thought. "Tabby!" He yelled, but was answered by the slam of front door closing behind her. "Jesus, fuck!" he roared in helpless frustration unable to keep his worry at bay any longer. What the hell was he going to do? The next week passed painstakingly slow, with Tabby retreating further and further into her fortress of denial. Every day that Marcus came home, Tabby was there, going through the motions of normality as if nothing had happened. He'd ask her how she was and she'd reply with "I'm fine, Daddy. How was your day?" Dinner was made and her chores were done but she barely spoke or made eye contact. Whenever he attempted to initiate conversation with her, she stuck to a bastardized version of her submissive protocol and only gave him one word answers. The more he pushed her to open up to him about Troy, the more agitated and distant she would get until she'd finally shut down and refuse to engage. That she was using her role as his submissive to avoid talking to him, both angered and hurt him deeply. The emotional block she'd erected between them went against everything he'd been taught about healthy Dominant/submissive relationships and it frustrated him that she would twist their dynamic into something so wrong. Another week went by with no change in Tabby's odd behaviour. Her smiles became pasted on, there by requirement but devoid of real emotion. He began feeling anxious as he drove home after work, dread and frustration gnawing at him. Just as his anger was turning to despair, Marcus had a flash of enlightenment. If she was seeking comfort in her submissive role, then maybe that was the way in. He could use his position as her Dominant to press through her defences. It's what he should have done earlier, he realized. He'd pretty much left her alone, giving her space but maybe that had been the wrong move. He'd have to be very careful but a plan was already forming in his mind. Let her build her walls, they weren't going to be a match for his love for her. On the morning of the third week, Marcus strode into the kitchen, sat in his usual seat at the table and waited for Tabby to bring his plate of food to him. She had gotten into the habit of waking before he did so that she could slip from their bed before he could make any demands of her and he intended to teach her that, no matter what she did, she couldn't avoid him forever. He didn't even know if she was eating, he hadn't seen her take a bite in front of him since the awful news had come. He studied her quietly, sipping the cup of coffee that she had prepared for him. She was still so pale, making the dark circles under her eyes stand out even though she'd tried to hide them beneath a heavy layer of concealer. She was clean, he could smell the scent of strawberries mixing with an aroma that was unique to his Tabitha, and that was more because he forced her to take a shower every night. Marcus had a feeling that if he didn't, she wouldn't bother. In fact, he was pretty sure that the only reason why she was going in to work every day was to get away from him. That was going to change, starting this morning. He'd been lax with her, reluctant to push her too hard, but he could see what a mistake that had been. Instead of coming to him for comfort, she had pulled further away and was lost in a world of grief that she couldn't express. His eyes narrowed speculatively, watching her put the finishing touches on his breakfast. It was time to beat his stubborn submissive at her own game. Daddy Dom was at the table and wouldn't be denied any longer. Tabby brought his plate to the table and waited for his permission to set it down in front of him, her head bowed respectfully. "Good morning, baby girl," he said, setting his cup down and motioning for her to set the plate down before him. "Good morning Daddy." She spoke demurely. "I have prepared breakfast for your pleasure, Daddy." She used the correct phrasing as she'd been taught but instead of the devotion her words normally held, her voice was toneless and robotic. It made him sick to hear it but he forced himself to ignore it. "Thank you, baby girl, it looks wonderful as always, but I think I require another service from you this morning," he announced, pushing his chair away from the table and spreading his thighs wide so that the bulge behind his zipper was revealed. "Service me before you leave," he commanded, watching her face intently. Her eyes darted to the length of his erection, straining the fabric of his trousers, widening in surprise before she shut down the emotion and they went dull and lifeless. Sinking slowly to her knees, she kept her gaze focused on his erection. Reaching out a hand to undo his zipper, he blew out a breath and grabbed her by the hair and wrist, halting her hand in his steely grip and pulling back on her head to force her to meet his angry gaze. "Have you forgotten your training already, baby girl? What are you supposed to say?" He demanded roughly, meanly, praying for a glimmer of response from her. She loved it when he was rough with her, a part of their dynamic that never ceased to get her aroused, but not today. Instead of flushing with desire, he felt the stiffness in her muscles and her reluctance to obey his demand. "If it pleases you, Daddy," she ground out, struggling against his hold. He experienced a moment of indecision but forged ahead with his plan. She had a safe word and he knew she wasn't so far gone that she'd forgotten how to use it. He had to believe that she had reverted to her submissive mode as a cry for help. For him to help her, and he'd received that message loud and clear. "It does, my sweet girl." He gave her a hard smile that looked etched onto his face. "Now take my cock out like a good girl and suck me until I tell you to stop." He released her hair and guided her hand to his crotch, pressing her palm against the pulsing erection with his large hand covering hers. Impatient, his cock jumped and twitched at the contact, eager for the pleasure just waiting on the other side of the expensive fabric of his trousers. He held her hand captive a few minutes longer letting her feel his arousal and the heat that poured through the thin barrier, hoping that she would sense the desperate need that lay behind his actions. She didn't attempt to pull away, just waited silently until he slid her hand up the length of his fly and curled her fingers around the button of his pants. "Proceed," he growled, voice husky with lust. Her fingers fumbled stiffly with the button, popped it open and slid his zipper down. Dressed for the office, she had to push his boxers out of the way in order to reach his cock. The moment she did, his erection leapt forward, jutting out proudly from his hips and Marcus had to suppress the sigh of relief he felt at finally being freed. Tabitha stared at the swollen, mushroom shaped head of his cock and her scrutiny only increased his arousal. A drop of precum appeared and sat like a pearl, anticipating her mouth. "Lick it," he ordered and almost came when her tiny, pink tongue lapped the liquid from his cock, sending jolts of electricity down his shaft and twisting up his balls. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth and flattened around the base of his penis, wrapping it in wet, silky heat. Painstakingly slow, she drew her tongue up his rigid length, leaving a damp slick of saliva in its wake. He shivered at the sensation of hot and cold as she travelled up to the head and swirled her tongue around the sensitive crown. Pulling back, he sucked in a sharp breath as her small hand wrapped around his girth, squeezing and stroking him with a practiced touch. He groaned, breathing through the throbbing need that settled in his balls like burning coals. She stroked him several times, squeezing him tightly and swirling her hot tongue around his tip, licking the drops of moisture dripping from his cock, getting him hard and ready for her mouth. He watched the hypnotic movements of her twisting hand through half-lidded eyes, desire coiling like a restless snake in his belly. He kept one hand threaded through her long, wavy hair, needing the contact but didn't attempt to guide her actions. He wanted her to find her own way through the forest of her denial and back into the freedom that her submission could provide. The instant her hot, wet mouth slid over his erection and she took him all the way in, the powerful urge to orgasm almost overcame him. Somehow he managed to beat back the rushing tide of pleasure, not ready for this to be finished yet. He needed to give her time to let her mind relax as she worked him with her mouth. Yes, he was getting something out of this for himself, but he was hoping that the intense bond that existed between them, would reassert itself and help her open up to him. His mind blanked when Tabby increased the suction, licking and grazing the head of his cock with her teeth. He hissed at the explosion of sensation, breathing through the need to come, trying to stall it. In order to distract himself from the wildfire blazing in his groin, he picked up his fork and began to eat his breakfast, pretending to be unfazed with her actions, while encouraging Tabby to get down to the business of sucking his cock in earnest. "That's my girl," he murmured, absently stroking her silky hair. "Suck Daddy's cock and make him feel good, my precious slut," he crooned, cupping her head and pushing her down on his shaft, making her take him deeper, faster. He managed a few more bites of food before he realized that he was in danger of choking as the friction of her tongue sliding on his shaft blinded him with pleasure. The urgency in his balls made him abandon his meal and he focused all his attention on the bobbing, brunette head pumping up and down his throbbing cock. Using both of his hands to guide her movements, he began thrusting his hips up to meet her strokes, racing to the finish line like a wild animal that had just escaped its cage. "Good girl," he breathed out hoarsely, the pressure in his balls reaching painful status. "Daddy's going to come in that pretty, little mouth of yours," he gasped as the first of the spasms rocked through him, "and you're going to swallow every drop." She had stopped moving, allowing him to control her movements and sealed her lips around him but other than that, she made no other acknowledgement that she'd heard him. He grunted as the release clawed its way up from his thighs, into his balls and then shot up his spine. With a growl, he forced her to take him right to the back of her throat where he exploded in gouts of sticky semen. Through the roaring in his ears, he heard her gag and felt her throat convulse around his shaft as she struggled to accommodate both his thick cock and the liquid he was squirting into her esophagus, the fluttering of her muscles only made him come harder. He eased up on her so that she could breathe and expelled the last few drops of his semen on her lips as he withdrew. She dutifully licked him clean, then stood up and walked out of the kitchen without saying a word, leaving him breathing hard and recovering from the massive orgasm he'd just experienced. When Tabby reappeared back in the kitchen, he was in the process of tucking himself back into his trousers. She'd fixed her hair and makeup and he saw, with a sinking heart, that her stony facade was still firmly in place. Before he had a chance to say anything more, she turned and left without so much as a glance in his direction. When the front door closed quietly behind her, he swore in frustration and despair, sweeping his arm across the table and sending his cold, half eaten breakfast flying against the wall. Work was a waste of time for him and he wondered why he'd bother to go into the office at all after the fiasco of the morning. His mind was distracted and refused to focus on the paperwork and spreadsheets on his desk. All he could think of was his baby girl and her inability to express the grief that he knew she was bottling up. She needed him to figure out a way to help her release those emotions before they turned toxic and burned her up from the inside out. But how? He knew in his bones that he had been on the right track this morning, but it hadn't been enough. Tabby was hiding behind her submission, using it as a buffer between them so that she could avoid facing the reality of her brother's suicide and that was unacceptable to him. Submission was all about trust and honesty and she had perverted it into something false and dirty. The scene in the kitchen had left him feeling unsettled and wrong in a way BDSM had never done to him before but he had to keep pushing her. He intended to force a reaction out of her, one way or another. Marcus came home to find Tabby finishing off dinner preparations and he stood shadowed in the doorway watching her. Everything she did was measured and precise, like her body was working from a program input into her brain. He searched for any sign of his precious girl, the little flourishes and smiles that always surrounded her when she cooked, but there was nothing. Her body was there but that spark that made her so attractive to him was absent. It felt like a knife in his gut, slowly being twisted and he had to look away, unable to stand the pain any longer. He backed away and headed for the stairs, fighting the sense of loss that sat in his gut like a black hole. He showered and changed into a pair of soft, cotton sleep pants then padded barefoot and bare chested into the kitchen. "Good evening, Daddy," she said politely, waiting for him to seat himself. "Good evening, angel." He inhaled the aroma of the food and smiled appreciatively. "That smells really good, darling," he replied. She didn't respond, only ladled out the thick stew she'd prepared and placed the steaming bowl in front of him. She bowed and backed away. "For your pleasure, Daddy," she murmured and waited for him to take a taste of the thick stew. He hummed in approval, chewing the mouthful of savoury pork stew, enjoying the meal. "It's wonderful, baby girl." He indicated to the empty chair beside him. "Sit and eat, love." She did as she was told, filling her bowl with a half portion of the stew. While he ate, he watched her idly playing with the vegetables with her spoon but not eating herself. He set his spoon down and fixed her with a concerned look. "You need to eat." "I'm not hungry, Daddy," she mumbled, darting a glance at him then quickly looking away. "I had a big lunch at the office." Lie. It was written all over her face. His instinct was to call her on her bullshit, but he knew that this was not the battle he needed to fight right now. He smiled as if her lie hadn't just cut him deep inside. "Just one spoonful, baby girl. For Daddy." He reached over and plucked the spoon out of her limp hand. Pushing as much meat onto as he could, he brought it up to her lips. She sighed and opened for him, accepting the food from his hand. An intense sense of relief filled him, it was a small victory but it was still a start. He helped her clean up and then they sat and watched some TV before getting ready for bed. Tabby had locked herself into their bathroom again and he brushed his teeth quickly in the other, wanting to be ready before she was. Phase two of his plan went into action tonight. Already naked in bed, he waited with the bedside lamp on its lowest setting, for Tabby to emerge from the bathroom. His nerves were fizzing with a potent mix of anxiety and arousal, anticipating the plan he'd set into motion. The door opened, allowing harsh light to flood into the dim room and she blinked in surprise, not expecting him to be waiting in the bed for her. She was wearing a soft pink negligée that covered her to her knees. He took in the sight and grimaced in disappointment - another of his rules she had decided to flout. He'd allowed her leeway these past few weeks, but enough was enough. The first step in his plan was to reassert his dominance, that was what the scene in the morning had been about, now it was time to reinforce his position and remind her of the rules she'd agreed to submit to. Rules were there for a purpose and it wasn't up to her to get to pick and choose which she would adhere to and which she would ignore. If she wanted to be treated as a submissive, then it was up to him to make sure that she obeyed his rules. "Stop!" he barked at her. She started at his sudden outburst, then glared at him defiantly. He gave a hoot of triumph inside his head at the show of emotion. He'd take her stubbornness for now, it was miles better than the numb, zombie act. Pointing disapprovingly at her night shirt, he growled at her. "Take. It. Off." The Weight of The Ocean She hesitated and for a second, he thought she was going to refuse his command. Her long fingers plucked at the hem of the silk before grabbing a handful and tugging it over her head. She balled up the negligée and tossed it onto a chair then stood naked, waiting for his next command. "Better. The next time you break one of my rules, I WILL take you over my knee." He pulled the blankets back, just enough to expose the massive erection he was sporting, giving her a hint at what was coming next. "Get in to bed, baby girl. Daddy needs more than your mouth tonight." Her gaze flashed from his groin to a spot on the floor directly in front of her feet. He saw the tremor that ran through her body and his desire spiked, knowing that she had seen what was waiting for her. He waited. Would she safe word? He fully expected her to and had to hide his surprise when she climbed slowly into the bed, turning on her side to face away from him. Shifting closer behind her, he reached out to pull her close but she shrugged away. Anger sizzled in his blood at being denied. It was open disobedience that he wasn't about to let her get away with. He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her tightly to his chest, letting his erection bump against her ass as a reminder of what he wanted from her and what her duty was to him. She struggled half-heartedly in his embrace, her ass pressing against his cock in a way that made his breath hitch. He spoke hushed words, soothing her with his voice while using his body to keep her pinned against him. With one heavy hand splayed against her abdomen, he made it clear in no uncertain terms, that she wasn't going anywhere. The other hand slid up her flat belly and found the soft, delicious weight of one of her full breasts. As he palmed the supple flesh, he searched for and found her pert nipple and rolled it between his finger and thumb until it stiffened and grew warm from the blood that suffused it. She shook her head as if to block out the hypnotic sound of his voice. She stopped writhing, her breath puffing out in little bursts as she calmed, but Marcus wasn't deceived by her supposed submission. The tension in her muscles didn't release and he knew she was poised to fight him if need be. Everything thing in her body language screamed that she just hadn't decided if she wanted to. Using both hands, he massaged each of her breasts. Squeezing and pressing them flat, digging his fingers in and kneading them like pliant dough, revelling in the spongy feel of those fleshy mounds. Pleased to find both her nipples erect, he grasped them and tugged gently, pinching them until the pressure finally elicited a soft moan from Tabby. He smiled into the nape of her neck and kissed her in the hollow, happy to have forced a reaction past her stoic facade. Leaving one of his hands to continue fondling her tit, his other wandered south until he was able to cup the moist heat of her shaven mound in his palm. A satisfied smirk crept across his lips. She was wet. God damn! She was actually wet! Something inside him knew that if he'd found her dry, he wouldn't have pushed her further. He needed her on board with his actions, whether she did it consciously or not. Her mind may have shut down but her body was apparently running on its own agenda. This gave him a glimmer of desperate hope that some of what he was doing was getting through the walls around her soul. He intended to spend several hours chipping away at those walls, taking out as many of the bricks that he could until he had made them so weak he could barrel through and pull her back to him. He idly traced the lines of the smooth, outer lips of her pussy, not attempting to penetrate her, just letting the sensitive flesh convey waves of pleasure to her traumatized brain. On his third circuit, she shuddered and tried to pull away, fighting against the narcotic lure of the arousal his touch was creating. The battle between what her brain wanted and her body needed causing internal strife. He took it as an encouraging sign that, in spite of her weak protest, she was actually ready for more. On his next pass, he slid his index finger into the wet heat of her inner labia, letting his fingertip get slick in the natural lubrication her body was starting to produce in copious amounts. Once. Twice. He swirled that finger, stroking around her clitoris but not yet touching it. Finally, he couldn't resist the pull of that delicate bud any longer and swiped his finger over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Tabby's pussy clenched and fluttered around his digit as if she'd received a shock of electricity. His cock gave an answering jolt, jerking between him and her smooth ass, searching for the nirvana it seemed to know was close at hand. He rubbed her clit in tiny circles wanting nothing more than to feel her come apart under his touch. Tiny spasms of her pussy and an increase in her juices were the only indications that she was responding in any way to his efforts. The rest of her stayed completely still. He wasn't fooled. Marcus was intimately acquainted with Tabby's body, having spent countless hours getting to know every nuance of her reactions. He knew what it took to bring her to orgasm and could feel the way she tensed, barely breathing, effectively cutting off the orgasm every time he got her close. It frustrated him and made his temper spark with volatile energy. Keeping calm and under control is what he needed right now so he pretended not to notice what she was doing, but inside his heart, her denial was cutting him like razors. "Deny me all you want, angel, but I will have that orgasm before this night is through," he purred the promise into her ear, determined not to let his own emotions cloud his thinking. Shifting his weight, he rolled her underneath him and pinned her arms above her head with one hand. "Open for me," he commanded, pressing his knee between her closed thighs, waiting for her to comply. Her thighs stayed clamped shut and he nudged her again, shifting more of his weight, pressing into her flesh, giving her the choice between obeying or bruising. Even though he knew that he had to be hurting her, her eyes stared resolutely past him as if he didn't exist. "Either safe word or obey but this bullshit stops now, Tabitha." He lowered his face until he was a hairsbreadth away from her face and watched the tiny creases deepen on her forehead. Her eyes flashed and then darkened as she came to some decision and Marcus braced himself for an outburst. Tremors wracked her quadriceps as her body fought her mind's determination to deny him and he slipped further between her legs. He knew that he was risking getting kneed in the balls or told to fuck off, but he held firm, pushing harder against her resistance. "What's it going to be, angel? I can stay here all night if need be, sweetie." Without meeting his gaze once, he felt the tension release in her thighs and she slid them slowly apart, making just enough space for him to insert himself between them. Not exactly an open invitation but he'd accept it for now. It let him be where he desperately needed to be, staring down at the dainty, rose coloured slit of his lover's pussy. Blood rushed into his cock, making it ache with the need to be inside her. He settled himself on his knees and gripped his erection with his free hand. "Look at me, Tabby," he growled at her, trying to keep his lust and urgency at bay. Her eyes shifted from the spot on the ceiling, dropped past his face and locked onto the hand that was roughly stroking his cock. Being the object of her scrutiny only made him harder and his dick began to leak in anticipation, the bastard enjoying being in the spotlight. Christ! He was going to come before he got anywhere near her pussy at this rate. He gave himself a violent squeeze, hard enough to make stars appear in his vision, all in the hopes that the pain would help cool his rampaging desire and temper his irritation. The blast of agony had the reverse effect instead - his balls clenched and he almost gave in to the primal need to fuck his woman into submission. Seeing her staring impassively at the erect symbol of his virility and laying there as animated as a mannequin, made him want to roar in anger and forget that he was a civilized man and not a beast. Marcus wasn't a violent man, despite his imposing size, he had never lifted a hand in anger against a woman a day in his life, but fear was pushing him to the limits of his control and it was getting harder and harder not to lash out in order to force a reaction from her. Fixing her with a ferocious glare that she did not see, he pushed the head of his cock against her sex and roughly dragged it up and down her slit, pressing it into the soft flesh, making sure that it was thoroughly coated in her juices. Her body was still producing copious amounts of moisture, so on some level, Marcus knew that he was reaching a part of her, he just wished she'd give some conscious sign. Positioning himself at her entrance, he searched for her eyes again, needing that connection with her. In a brief glance, he got what he wanted but instantly wished he hadn't. There was such pain behind those dark green irises that he felt like he was falling into an abyss. There was something else too, a plea that was gone so quickly that Marcus thought he'd imagined it. Help me. Then she lowered her lids, shutting him out, leaving him to recoil as if he'd just had a door slammed in his face. Marcus' temper flared white hot. If both his hands hadn't be currently occupied, he would have grabbed and shaken her until her head spun. This blatant insult was the last straw and without warning, his hips shot forward, driving his cock into her with such force that his forward momentum halted when he abruptly bottomed out against the mouth of her womb. Nothing. No gasp. No moan. No cry of pain. Not a single sign that she had felt his unforgiving entry into her body. He paused, feeling her walls fist around him in a scorching embrace that made blood flood into his cock until he felt like he was going to burst. He tried to give her time to adjust, not wanting to be reduced to rutting like an animal, but the biological imperative to move overrode his control and his hips began moving, sliding him in and out of her heat. The way her walls gripped and slid against the steel of his erection, nearly drove him mad. His vision clouded with lust, driven higher by the smell of her arousal and he began to thrust faster. "Feel me, angel. Feel how much I need you." The words spilled from his mouth like a prayer, begging her to hear the 'I love you', 'I need you', 'I'm losing you' woven into the subtext. Gasping the words out took oxygen that his body greedily did not want to surrender, needing every molecule to fuel his muscles. He felt light headed and transcendent, driving his cock inside her sheath, seeking a connection to the woman beneath him that continued to elude him. He just want inside her head, he wanted inside her soul were she hid to protect herself from the wrenching pain of Troy's death. He'd tried words. She had ignored him. He'd tried comforting her. She had evaded his touch. Nothing seemed to get through. All he that he had left with the one tool he'd be afraid to use - brute force via his cock. If compassion and patience weren't going to work, then he'd bludgeon her walls until he finally broke through. "Fuck, Tabby," he groaned through gritted teeth. "Come back to me baby." He might as well been screwing a wooden doll. A trickle of wrongness found its way through his lust crazed brain, worming into his gut, warning him to stop. His body was on autopilot, too far gone to stop even though his mind sensed how fucked up the situation was. He dropped his hand to her soaking clit and rubbed furiously. "Come, dammit!" He roared, trying to forestall his own orgasm seething in his balls. "Please,Tabs." He begged, dropping his sweaty forehead to hers. "Don't leave me like this." The heartfelt plea strangled in his throat as Marcus' body ignited with the orgasm that he'd been trying to hold back. A tidal wave of pleasure and pain detonated in his balls, seizing control of his body and flipping him a metaphorical middle finger as the rush engulfed him. "Fuuuuuck!" He yelled, coming so hard that his vision burst into a shower of sparks and all he could do was hang on to consciousness with his fingernails. Years passed by. A millennia came and went in the space of a few heartbeats while Marcus' body convulsed over and inside her. He couldn't stop the spasms from rocking his hips forward, repeatedly slamming his cock deep into his beloved as jets of hot semen splashed against her womb. He shuddered and gasped as his balls finally emptied themselves and the spasms released him from their grip. Marcus drifted in a blissed out state of post coital exhaustion, barely able to remember his name, let alone the fact that he had collapsed onto Tabby's prone form. He regained consciousness to find her writhing underneath of him, pushing at him with panicked jabs, trying to shift his weight off of her chest. Quickly rolling himself off her, the feeling of his softened dick sliding out of her wetness sickened him. He flopped onto his back beside her, a tremor starting in his muscles that had nothing to do with the sweat cooling on his body. "Tabby, fuck...I'm..." He apologized, reached a hand out to touch her but caught only empty air. She had rolled away from him and curled into a fetal position on her side, the walls surrounding her, thicker than ever. A wave of guilt and despair struck Marcus, clenching his gut with nausea. His empty fist pounded the mattress in utter frustration, making the iron headboard clatter against the wall. Lying on the bed, it was his turn to stare despondently up at the ceiling. He had lost control, dammit. All his years as a Dominant and when he needed it most, his training and experience had gone out the window. Instead of breaking through to Tabby, all his aggressiveness had accomplished was to push her deeper into her protective numbness and further away from him. His heart hammered in his chest, thudding like he'd just run a marathon and he closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath through his nostrils to steady his nerves. This simple act proved to be a huge mistake. Tabby's musky, feminine scent filled his senses and for the first time since he'd met her, instead of igniting his desire, the scent of her repulsed him. The more he ran through what had just occurred between them - correction, what he'd just done to Tabby - the sicker and more despicable he felt. This ends tonight! His mind screamed at him to act and he bolted out of the bed, the only course of action suddenly becoming very clear in his mind. Storming to his bureau, he flicked the light switch on flooding the room with bright light as he passed by it. Stopping long enough to grab a discarded pair of jeans and pull them on, he headed to his bureau, grasped the knob and yanked open the cabinet door with so much force that it banged against its hinges, making the wood creak alarmingly. Calm down! He warned himself. You gotta keep your cool or else you're going to blow this, asshole! The item that he was searching for was sitting there on the shelf but his gaze glossed over it, barely registering it. His attention was pulled with gravitational force to an engraved, mahogany box pushed to the very back of his bureau, looking larger than it was with the weight of the promises it held within it. Marcus slid it forward, his breath catching in his throat as he caressed the inscription on the lid - "From two there is now One. Forever Mine. Forever Yours". He couldn't resist lifting the lid, staring in awe at the magnificent piece of jewelry that lay within, his heart beating so hard that it felt like it was ramming itself into his ribcage. A gorgeous, hand-crafted, silver and black strand of thick, interlocking rings lay on a bed of black velvet. Each, solid ring was expertly made, half of them from sterling silver and the other half from polished, black onyx, interlinked to form a gleaming length chain that seemed to be made from starlight and darkness. The trouble he had had trying to find a craftsman capable of making it, almost defeated him until the last inquiry he'd made pointed him in the right direction. He'd found the ancient silversmith working out of his ramshackle garage. The old man had retired years ago but was willing to accept the odd project just to keep himself busy. The item Marcus had described to him had intrigued him and he agreed to take on the silver work needed for the unique piece. Luck smiled on him that day because the man's grandson was also a jewelry maker and specialized in working with gemstones. Tracking down pure, black onyx had been a bit of a trial but a month later, both artisans had contacted him with the news that they had all the supplies needed and would begin the work. It took almost two more months for them to present the completed collar to Marcus, but the minute he'd set his eyes on it, he knew that it would be perfect for his beautiful submissive. He'd been planning to present it to her next month, at a special gathering at their BDSM club - officially claiming her as his submissive and asking her to marry him. He fingered the links, letting the cool silver and slightly warmer onyx rings, slide across his skin. Tracing the sides of the rings, he could feel the grooves where words were inscribed on each. Promises he made to Tabby were etched into the ten onyx rings symbolizing his strength and darkness - protect, love, honor, guide, treasure, discipline, friend, lover, Master, husband. Etched into the ten silver rings, symbolizing Tabitha's vows and her balancing light were - obedience, adoration, service, grace, intelligence, purity, strength, submissive, lover, wife. Two halves making a whole. Light and dark. Strength and vulnerability. The two ends had loops attached where the final piece to the collar fitted in. Lying next to the collar, nestled in the soft velvet was a stunning, heart shaped lock. The front half was black onyx and the rear was polished silver, with the tiny keyhole in the center of it. There was an inscription here too - into the onyx the words - Saved By Her Light - were inlaid with silver and into the silver side, the words - Possessed by His Darkness - was inlaid in with black onyx. It was heavy and beautiful and Marcus desperately wanted to hear it lock into place around Tabitha's delicate neck, making her his forever. All of that was in jeopardy now. If he couldn't find a way to reach her and help her deal with her grief, he was going to lose her. He placed the collar back down on the velvet and closed the lid. Picking up Tabitha's leather training collar, he said a silent prayer, hoping with every fiber in his being that he was doing the right thing. He slammed the cabinet door shut and stalked back to the bed with the leather collar dangling from his clenched fist. Tabby was awake, sitting up and watching Marcus with wary apprehension making her tremble in fits. He flung her collar into her lap and she recoiled from it as if he had thrown a venomous snake at her. "Put it on." Tabby blinked, her eyes going wide in dismay. She looked like he had just slapped her, and in a way he had. Demanding she put her own collar on was one of the lowest insults he could have given her. Collaring her had always been his privilege - a sign to her that she was his treasured possession and that the moment he buckled it around her neck, she agreed to devote her mind, body and soul to him and him alone. He was the one who put her collar on and he was the one who decided when it came off. Forcing her do it herself, essential reduced her to nothing more than a casual plaything and distanced himself from her.