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.