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."