by Poppet
“Victor, I'm not ready!”
“You need a distraction, and you're angry. You're seething with it. And you're taking it out on me. So let's kill two birds with one punch.”
“But last time … ”
He stops walking and turns to face me square on. “Shauna I'll stand still and let you work off your aggression. Maybe after you hit me you'll stop blaming me for what some wanker in a mask did to you.”
“I don't blame you …”
“Yes you do. I have the weak link. I find you attractive. God fucking help me for craving you, for loving you enough to miss you.” He carries on stalking away, pulling off his t-shirt and making me pause as I stare at his muscular back with it's perfect V receding away from me. “The fact that I corrected the damage, fed you, nursed you, isn't enough for you. I try and distract you with getting out, always being considerate of your unusual needs, and what do you do?” He swivels as he unbuttons the top button on his jeans, fuck me he's so hot when he's angry. “You persecute me! So let's work this anger out of your system. Am I allowed to at least block if I'm not allowed to hit back?”
It's worked. He's made me sound completely ludicrous and I start laughing at him. His flashing chocolate eyes turn from hard to melting swirling softness. His face smiles back at me as I charge him, forcing him to catch me. Sucking hard on his lip before raping his mouth.
“You need to get angry more often. You are so sexy!”
Carrying me, kissing me, he stops and hurls me onto the bed, I'm experiencing odd vertigo being flung so forcefully backward. He flops over me as he growls teasingly, “What you need is a good spanking.”
Running my fingers over the toned lats of his back, I bite his neck, still feeling frivolous. “I'm sorry. You're right. I'm undeserving and completely hormonal.”
“You make me crazy, woman.”
The tone is serious, and I can feel the tension between us. Forced to break it I tell him the bad news, “We can't have sex for two weeks.”
“Is that all?” he smirks as he rolls away from me and kicks off his sneakers. Glancing back at me he queries, “Dare I ask why?”
“I haven't been taking my contraception. It'll take two weeks for it to be effective.”
Smiling smugly at me he leans over and yanks open his bedside drawer, throwing tins at me. “Reality check.” He stands and strips off his jeans, staring down at me with a decidedly naughty expression, “Ever heard of condoms?”
I stick my tongue at him, “Of course I have.” Jesus he has enough for an army doesn't he? Was he hoping to get laid soon and often? Maybe he's a closet slut.
“Good.” He thrusts open a matt black closet door and extracts navy blue track pants, yanking them on he arches a challenging eyebrow at me, “Are you coming dressed like a princess?”
“Oh, I'm coming again too, am I?”
His smile makes my knees dissolve into mush, I'm feeling suddenly too weak to move.
“Shauna, am I the first man to mention how confusing your signals are?”
I feel ashamed. I do. I've treated him so poorly all things considered. “Yes.” I smile wickedly. “Now didn't you say I had full permission to kick your ass?”
“You can try.”
Pulling off my white off-the-shoulder summer blouse, I shove him back onto the bed to get to my t-shirts. “Then I'd better wear my Victor annihilation clothes.” Catching him staring at me enigmatically, I challenge as I pull a white t-shirt over my head, “What?”
All of my t-shirts are tight. And he's staring straight at the headlights. Those, stripping me and fucking me mentally eyes slide up to connect with mine, “I missed your fire, angel.”
Unzipping my skirt, I drop it as I grab lycra shorts, “Then get ready to feel the full might of a woman with issues, baby.”
I'm caught by surprise as he lifts me up to sit over his legs on the bed. Holding my chin he kisses me softly, staring so tenderly into my eyes, “Please stay. I love this Shauna.”
I twist, breaking the moment by tickling under his arms, “Get ready for an ass kicking, Superman.”
•
Victor:
I won't risk endangering any life growing in her. Leaving the lights on this time, I hold paddles, deflecting her punches as she batters out her aggression.
She's so little it's comical. I could easily show her how to disable a large man without requiring any strength at all, but I won't. I don't ever intend for her to be in a position to challenge me. I won't allow her the knowledge.
It's my role to protect, and conversely discipline, her. It's better this way.
I offer a nod of encouragement as she punches with arms and wrists out of alignment. She's hurting herself with the way she's punching. It makes you easier to dominate angel. And I do so enjoy dominating you.
I use the opportunity for a full workout. She's kept me so vigilant that my own maintenance is slipping. Using the treadmill, I start running. She sits and watches me from the mat where she's stretching. I chose this one well. She is my angel; beautiful, divine, heavenly to experience.
Sprinting, I push myself harder. The last mile must be flat out. Feeling rejuvenated and now only mildly out of breath I switch off the treadmill, searching the equipment for her.
“Victor, help!”
Stupid woman! Moving quickly between the circuit I reach her, lifting the bar off her. “What are you doing? That's far too heavy for you.” Not to mention I won't let your body stress and expel my embryo.
“I want to get strong. I want to be able to hurt him back.”
“Angel, baby steps. This is going to take months. You can't just dive into the deep end. You can seriously hurt yourself, permanently. You can break your back doing that.”
Her chin quivers as she stares at my glistening torso, “I don't have months.”
“Bench press will only give you bigger boobs.” I pause and wiggle my eyebrows at her, “Which I can give you for free if it's what you really want.”
But I'd rather see them plump with milk.
The chin stops quivering as she smiles at me, tracing a fingertip down my skin, “Only if you want them.”
Stepping in close to her, I cup them both, “Don't change this. I love you just as you are.”
She stares up at me with trusting eyes, “You're very sexy when you've been working out.”
Arching a suggestive eyebrow I tease, “I have another muscle that requires daily workouts. You can help with that, as you're so keen on me hot and sweaty after a workout.”
She tilts her head back, eyes closing, her pixie nose embellished with the happy curve of pink lips underneath it, “I thought we already worked that one.”
Picking her up I hoist her over my shoulder, “Come here wench.”
She squeals as she hangs upside down, “Victor! Put me down!”
I comply when we reach the sparring mats, ordering her, “Roll over.”
She eyes me suspiciously, “Why?”
“Would you learn to trust me? Please?”
She seems wary but rolls over. Resting on my heels over her, I knead thumbs into her shoulders, “This is why, you suspicious woman.”
“Hmmmmm!”
Laughing, I work out the stress in her back, tracing her fragile spine. Knowing where a well inserted blade would end life, where a blade would permanently paralyse. Humans are so blindly trusting. But she needs to stay happy. Her frame of mind affects her body. That body is my incubator.
Leaning over I kiss the vertebrae which will end her life, “Sexy girl.”
“Fuck me, slowly.”
Pausing, I can't believe I just heard right. “Seriously?”
“It's an expression of complete incredulous enjoyment. Randy man!”
Laughing, I tickle her, “You are my victim now sexy wench.”
Squealing happily, she squirms until she's facing me, holding my wrists. I let her win, allowing her to think she's stronger than she is. Perception, after all, is everything.
I'l
l give her fake confidence. Smiling more at my thoughts than at her, I hold her down with my weight resting heavily on her, forcing ownership into her mouth, using body language to communicate what I'd rather be doing to her right now.
Her eyes close, she relaxes the struggle against my wrists, kissing me back.
Good girl.
~ Chapter 32 ~
Great photography is about depth of feeling, not depth of field.
~ Peter Adams
Victor:
Sitting up, I switch on the bedside lamp. When does this end?
She's thrashing, muffled screams punctuating night silence. Intrigued I watch as her legs kick out, holding arms defensively over her face. She's definitely struggling with something. It's like watching a woman being attacked with a poltergeist. Her arms are forced back as if she has no control over them.
Shaking her head, tears streaming through closed eyelids. Her face is so pale, it's Renaissance in its perfection. Quickly I grab my back-up Sony and capture it. Hiding it back in the drawer next to the bed and locking it with the digital code.
“No … no … no …” whimpers through trembling lips.
This distress must end. Severe stress can cause miscarriage. I won't let you murder my son. Leaning over I shake her, “Shauna.”
•
Shauna:
With one hand gripped around my throat, throttling the air out of me, I claw, gasping, choking. Hurled backward, the impact winds me. My sight blurring, struggling to breathe when hands grip mine, shoving them above my head as his aggression explodes into my cheek. “You want to meet the real me, little Shauna?”
His tone is derisive and mocking. So deep, guttural and abrasive. Like a chain-saw severing my nerves. My soul is trying to flee my body as he leans in and kisses me, smearing blood over my mouth with his lips, “Hey angel? You want me. You love me. You fuck me because you finally obey my commands.”
Shaking my head, I deny his demented reality, “No!”
“Yes baby. I am everything in this world that loves and cherishes you. You are mine. All mine. How many times and ways must I take you before you'll see me?”
“I'll find your kryptonite. If you're really an angel let me see your face! You aren't God, I won't go blind. I dare you! I dare you to show me who you are.” Standing over me, just like an avenging angel, I stare up at him, intimidated, overshadowed, afraid. Part of me is gripped with such intense anxiety I'm tempted to stop him. Pleading as I change my mind, “No … no … no …”
But he's opening it up, I'm going to see him! … Someone calls to me. He's fading. NO! I want to see your demonic face!
“Angel? Honey, wake up, you're having a nightmare.”
Automatically I curl myself inside his arms, comforted by listening to his steady heartbeat. I can't shake the impression that I know Vengeance. I've probably looked straight into his eyes and not known it. He must have stalked me to know so much about me, which means at some point I must have met him. If only I hadn't woken just at the point of revelation.
“How does he see us?”
“Who?”
“Vengeance.” Looking up at a stubbly chin, again I'm feeling better knowing Victor and his capable strength are here to protect me.
“Binoculars probably.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe, he's like one of those crazy stalkers you see on TV with cameras everywhere, even the shower. That's it! He's put cameras and stuff in my home! Pushing myself away, I blurt this conclusion, “He's bugged me. He has. He said he's watching you now too, so he's probably got cameras here and in my place.”
“Darling you're getting carried away. It was just a nightmare. You need your rest.”
“I know him. I know I do. He's probably even someone I consider a friend. He's a coward for hiding his face.”
I watch him leave the room, then return. He sits down, looking stern.
•
Victor:
My blood runs cold. Hatred grips me, tempted to clamp my hands tight around her throat and shut her down. Shut her up. Immediately forcing holes into her theory. I have to nip this in the bud, or I'll be forced to end her.
“That's preposterous. That doesn't explain how he found Mark. Or how he knew that your parents wouldn't believe you? He knew your parents wouldn't believe you, which is why he chose you. You're a vulnerable target.”
Sitting up she pushes against me, defiant anger igniting her eyes to sapphire intensity, “You're not listening to me –”
“I am listening. But your theory doesn't account for his angel story. It doesn't account for why he needs to save you.” Glaring at her, I undermine her shaky self-confidence, “What are you hiding from me Shauna? What does he know about you that I don't? Why does he treat you with such sexual brutality? Who did you treat like that?”
“Victor!”
Taunting her, I choose my words deliberately, “How much of this is guilt? Guilt stalks people too, Shauna. Do you have things hidden behind that sweet smile that you'd like to confess to me? Hmm? Now, while I'm in a forgiving mood and willing to listen? Why not enlighten me to who you really are when you're not being the victim?”
Cold laughter bubbles over unexpectedly at her face turning ashen, “Oh I can tell by your appalled expression I've hit the nail on the head. So you used others which is why he's using you? And now you have me, and you call him a coward? Maybe he is a coward, but so are you – aren't you? You run away from your problems. It's easier for you to hide behind righteous anger, or to hide behind me. I even have to be the intermediary between you and your parents.”
Standing up as if disgusted by her, I drop acidly, “If there's a coward in this equation, it's you. And what crap about bugging us. How did he always know how to find you? Or your phone number? Or where you lived to get his flowers delivered? Your fear is clouding your own coherent thinking. I'm sick of this melodrama. Just face that you had a bad dream, let me sedate you so at least for once we can fucking sleep through an entire night!”
Her face morphs through expressions. Rage, shock, denial, self-pity, back to anger. Fuck! Come on Shauna, don't do this to me.
“Fine! Do you feel better now? Because I don't!” she yells at me, grabbing a pillow and making as if to leave.
Grabbing her roughly I force her into my embrace, hugging her tightly, making her listen. “Look, I'm sorry.” Squeeze. “I'm tired too. You're a nightmare to sleep with. It's like sleeping with a tornado raging every night.”
Satisfaction flows warmth through my limbs as she's reduced to tears again.
“Baby, I'll take the couch. You know where I am if you need me.” Tilting her wet nose up I brush ineffectual lips over it. “And I'll go to the Spy shop tomorrow and get one of those bug detection devices and sweep our homes. Okay?”
She nods, shuddering silently, sucking large shaking breaths into her mouth. That mouth, that fucking amazing mouth. I wish I could just shove my dick in it and shut her up. Distract her with me, the way it should be.
Chastising insidiously, I say, “You need to leave him behind now, Shauna. You are clinging as desperately to him as he is to you. How can I compete?”
Her head moves unsteadily from side to side. Sheer misery pulling her face into distortion, “I … I …” She takes a gulp of air, staring up at me with red-rimmed eyes, “I hear you. I know this is me. My subconscious is worse than he is. It confuses me. It takes everything familiar and mixes it all up.” Trembling in jerks, she rests her forehead into my chest, “I love you. I hate him. How dare he make you feel like he's competition to you.”
“Shauna, he's not doing it. You are.”
Horrified eyes meet mine, shining with sparkling beauty, “But I love you. I'm sorry.”
“If you tell yourself that often enough maybe you'll actually believe it.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“You fight with me every opportunity you get. I can't make love to you, because of him. I can't sleep in the same bed with you, because of him.
I get into trouble for defending your honour, because of him. I'm stuck between you and your parents, to the point where you get sulky and bitchy with me, because of him. What the fuck can I do that won't get me into trouble? Forgive me Shauna, but I'm male. I don't understand female logic on a good day, but you've taken instability and moodiness to a whole new level. You've won the female fuck-over-male-rationality-with-hormones, at Olympic level.”
She propels herself away by shoving against me, flouncing onto the bed, turning her back to me.
“I do love you Shauna, but you make it hard. I feel like you're persecuting me simply for being here and male. I don't know how else I can prove to you that I care about you and I'm not here to hurt you. But you bring your silent boyfriend between us constantly. You get angry with me, when you're really angry with him.”
Silence. Moody, claustrophobic, silence.
Moving around to her, I drop her mediation CD onto the bedside table. Deliberately rubbing her detesting shoulder which jerks to shake me off, I then kiss her forehead, “Try to relax. I'm leaving your CD and the player in here with you. I'm giving you space to sort yourself out. Goodnight my angel.”
Hiding my grin I pull the bedroom door closed. I can sleep anywhere, this is no hardship to me.
~ Chapter 33 ~
There are always two people in every picture:
the photographer and the viewer.
~ Ansel Adams
Victor:
If she accepted God, she would have peace. The fact that she is in there listening behind a closed door to American Indian chanting in order to relax and meditate, tells me she's still lost. She should be in there praying. She must succumb to Father's power, or she will continue to be problematic. That baby has to happen soon. Her life depends on it.
Her reasoning mind is looking for answers. She hasn't let the past go, and I can see only one way to get her to release it and fully accept me. If Vengeance dies in front of her, this bullshit will end. She needs to give herself to me fully, for Father to accept her into the fold. Thomas, aptly named, has been a problem himself for the past few months. It's time to put doubting Thomas out of his misery, in service to Alpha, and the first born son; me.
