Raw Act of Possession
Part Six
by sarAdora


They slept, their bodies exhausted, his sated from their constant mating, hers sated and aching. Somewhere after midnight, he woke and took her sleepy body into the shower. Running his hands over her, washing her silky flesh, his hands lingered on her swollen sex. His chest ached just looking at her. She was beautiful and lush and he wanted to make love to her again. She awakened something in him he didn't want to recognize, something dormant for too long - genuine feeling - and it gave him pause.

Sunday morning he made a huge breakfast without comment, both of them eating heartily since they had missed dinner the night before. After they finished, he took her into the bathroom and held her against his back, spreading her legs. "I'm going to shave you again," he said quietly. "I don't want you to itch." Her folds were swollen and he gently stroked her, waiting for her to protest. "Are you going to fight me?"

She shook her head. "Wouldn't do any good."

"Good girl," he smiled and kissed her neck. "It took a little while, but you're learning to obey me."

"Fuck you!"

"I'm going to miss you when you're gone, sugar woman," he laughed.

She squirmed when his hands checked the smoothness of her sex, his fingers and palms rubbing her intimately, probing, stroking and wiping away the rest of the lather. Satisfied, he rinsed her and toweled her dry then fingered her until she moaned into his mouth.

"Today, you'll wear a blindfold, sugar woman," he told her as he placed her back on the bed."

"No," she began to panic and pushed against him.

"Yes," he said, holding her down while he cuffed her hands to the headboard. "I won't hurt you. I give you my word," he promised, telling her why he was blindfolding her, wondering again why he felt a need to explain his reasons. "I want you to feel and hear and smell what I'm going to do to you." She resisted but he held her captive, his mouth dropping kisses on her brow, her lips, licking the hollow of her throat and gently suckling each ripe nipple. It took a while but eventually, she calmed from his touch. He left her for a few minutes and when he returned, she smelled the scent of strawberries and knew it was an oil.

He started with her arms, massaging them with oil and licked the inside of her elbows when she shivered, then relaxed from his gentle touches. He worked his way up her arms and then over to her sensitive breasts with their erect nipples - nipples that stood tall and hard and hungry for his mouth. He applied a plentiful amount of the strawberry oil - his palms applying a bit of friction as he massaged the tender peaks. He smiled at her soft sounds and finally licked and suckled both of them until she begged him for release. He lapped her belly, the oil fragrant and delicious on her skin and listened to her moans when his mouth kissed the hollow of her hips. He loved that sound, kissing her again and again until she arched those hips and begged him again. Moving to her feet, he massaged each toe, then sucked them between his lips until she whimpered once more. Her arch was an erogenous zone and he nipped her there, her foot pulling back from his mouth and she gasped.

"Shhh, sugar woman, just enjoy."

He calmed her, rubbing her calves and then her thighs, ignoring her dripping sex when she spread her legs in invitation.


He poured the warm oil heavily on her mound, watching it quickly drip over her folds, and he caught it with his palms, massaging her. There was so much oil it oozed down her slit, tickling the cleft of her ass, her soft moans the only sounds in the room. His hands worked her flesh, his fingers pressing, probing, teasing her slit. Her outer petals were enflamed and deeply pinked and he fondled them with two gentle thumbs, the oil soaking and penetrating the softened skin. When he spread her inner petals wide, his tongue was instantly drawn to her glistening dew and he lapped her, her scent, her juices and the oil a feast he had to devour. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed devouring her - taking pleasure in pleasing her.

Her hips arched into his mouth, her thighs spread wide and her soft whimpers made him hard for her. He sucked her clit between his lips and nipped her with his teeth, then licked her till she screamed in climax. Plunging into her slick heat in the middle of her release, he felt the spasms of her inner walls as he filled her. His cock felt thicker, more engorged and he slowed his thrusts to savor the feel of her body surrounding him.

"Sugar woman," he groaned when he was spent, "I'll remember you."

Sunday night, exhaustion overcame her and she burrowed into his embrace, worn out and seeking the comfort of his arms. Her hands were limp, lying softly on his chest, her face in his neck and her sweet and swollen sex pushed against his thigh. She was luscious in his arms and he admitted that he didn't want to give her up. He gave serious thought to calling in sick, lying that he had to visit a dying relative, use some vacation time, any excuse to keep her in his arms and make love to her again.

His thoughts drifted, wondering if she'd shave her pussy or let it itch till it grew out. He knew he'd remember her and ache to hold her again and wondered if she'd curse him to hell or wish to be back in his arms. He pictured her shampooing her hair and drying her body with a towel and wondered if she'd imagine his hands drying her instead. He thought about the marks he left on her neck and breasts and hoped they wouldn't fade too soon so she'd remember how they got there. He knew it was crazy to think about keeping her in his arms and he knew he'd be insane to let her go.

Roger had written her address on a piece of paper so he knew where she lived, knew that's where he had to take her to set her free. Her keys were in her handbag. He didn't know her name and had never asked it. "I'll remember you," he whispered to her sleeping face, his voice already filled with regret that their time together was over.

He wasn't concerned about repercussions. He wasn't responsible for her abduction and on the slim chance she reported what had happened and he was somehow, questioned by authorities, he had an out. The lifestyle had all kinds of play scenes. She had been escorted by a Dom and had come willingly to the set of rooms for their play. Her denial that she was a sub was a common theme. He had seen this scene enacted many times before and knew that other dominant/submissive couples would happily testify to that, if necessary. He purposely had kept his face hidden - another kind of play - and of course, he refrained from giving her his name. As play scenes go, theirs had been quite tame. He hadn't inflicted any lasting pain. If anything, he had made love to her, exciting her, making her wet and wanting. He was going to miss her luscious body and the feel of being sheathed inside her. Repercussions? There wouldn't be any. He had nothing to fear.

What about her? Wonder what her thoughts will be when she's free again? his conscience queried.

She'll probably remember loving every minute of it.

Are you sure? Might hang over her head, mess with her mind.

She enjoyed the fucking as much as I did, he clung to the thought, wondering why it bothered him, wondering if he really was that callous. What would you do if you ever saw her again?

Strip her, spank her and fuck her as soon as possible.

That's your cock talking, it said.


FBI Headquarters

She had called in sick - a stomach flu - would be delayed reporting in for a day or two. Her new boss asked her to try to make it in by Thursday.

The Assistant Director in charge of personnel turned to the other Assistant Directors in the room, explaining that the new human resources consultant would not be making a presentation this morning and rescheduled them for Thursday.

Assistant Director Jonas Marlowe was relieved. He wasn't in the mood for a feely-meely human resources seminar on how to be a more sensitive manager. He managed his staff and agents very well. Fuck you very much! and if they didn't like it, tough shit. As for managing his own stress levels, fuck that, too. After this past weekend, he thought his stress had been alleviated very well. He had fucked a beautiful woman several times and even though she wouldn't admit it, she had enjoyed it if the number of her orgasms were any indication.

Except she wasn't a sub, after all.

That fucking Roger and his lies!

He needs a taste of his own medicine.

He's going to get it!

She was pretty special.


Not going to forget her, are you?

No. I'll remember her, he thought, his arms suddenly empty, wishing he was holding her again.



He slipped into the conference room, glad he wasn't the last to arrive and headed for the coffee urn. Christ! Donuts, Danish and bagels. A fucking seminar. Just what I needed. Without looking, he knew pitchers of juice were on the table along with glasses of ice water, and new yellow pads and pens. The food and the rest were always served when the assistant directors had to sit through a seminar. Shit! Special Agent Feely-Meely must have arrived. She had. She was arranging her easels, marking pens and slides. Her long dark hair was neatly swept on top of her head with a comb, a few stray tendrils down her neck. Jonas glanced at her, taking in the ivory column of her neck. Sweet ass, looks v-e-r-y spankable, he thought, admiring the fit of her skirt as he took a seat.

Then she turned and her piercing blue eyes looked straight at him and he choked on his hot coffee, spilling some. It was her. This was the woman he had stripped and kept naked against her will. This was the woman he had spanked until she almost passed out. This was the woman he had touched intimately without her permission. And this was the woman he had fucked without her verbal consent - for two solid days and nights.

She was standing in front of the room, looking straight at him, ready to start a seminar on how to be a more sensitive manager.

She laughed softly, turning her back when she saw the big man swallow wrong. She didn't want to embarrass him and busied herself with other things while everyone took their places. The size and shape of his body triggered a recent memory and she felt a shiver icicle down her spine.

She had surprised herself. She had ached badly Sunday night, barely able to call in sick on Monday. She had stayed in bed, curled into a fetal position, nursing her bruised body and her psyche. Though the spankings she had endured hadn't been as severe as she thought they were, they had been constant and her butt was still sensitive from them as well as from his fingers invading her. Her sex was sated, but sore and swollen and her clit was raw. It had been almost impossible to sit. Her breasts and neck still bore the marks of his mouth and her nipples ached. She was stunned how they had tightened when she remembered how he suckled them and how much she liked it.

I've lost my mind.


She had never given in - refused to kneel before him - wouldn't call him Master or Sir - choosing to call him nothing or refer to him as shithead, fucker or pervert. For some reason, this had made him laugh at her and then he'd renew his efforts to make her hot and wet for him. He never failed. No matter what her mouth said, her body betrayed her - she had wanted his mouth on her, gentle - rough - it didn't matter so long as he suckled at her breast or clit or fucked her with his tongue or cock.

And that cock, she sighed. So thick inside me... She was aghast at her thoughts. The man had kept her against her will, bullied her, spanked her as if she were a recalcitrant child, touched her more intimately that she had ever been touched, and fucked her senseless. And I loved it! I can't believe what he did to me, she sighed again. I have truly lost my mind.

It had taken a few days of physical and emotional recuperation to show up at her new assignment as if nothing untoward had happened in her life. But it had. She knew her body would soon be hers again - Or will it? - but her head had to put what happened somewhere else. How else would I function if I let this rule me?

She had hated him for what he had done to her - keeping her locked in a room - demanding that she obey him. Who the hell did he think he was? She had fought him when he spanked her - bathed her - fed her - shaved her. He shaved me! For that indignity alone, I ought to... She shook her head. Ought to do what? I don't even know his name or what he looks like. Most of his face was covered. She had hated him for making her want him and she fought again - but this time, the fight was with her own desires. He had seduced her with his hands and mouth and every time he was ready to slip between her thighs, she wanted him more than she wanted to be free of him.

Sunday, somewhere around midnight she woke in his arms, covered by a large white T-shirt and a light blanket. It took a few moments for her to realize they were in the backseat of a car and someone else was driving. She was too tired and too dazed to think, and sleep took her again. She woke the next morning, alone and in her own bed. Except for the T-shirt, it could have been nothing more than a very long and dramatic dream.

Her dress was at the foot of the bed along with her sandals and handbag. Her torn and shredded lingerie was nowhere in sight. There was a computer-generated note in her hand.

"Had I known you were telling the truth, I would have kept you anyway. You showed courage in the face of overwhelming odds. I regret any pain I caused you. I make no apologies for the pleasure you gave me. Don't make any excuses for the pleasure I gave you. If you were part of the lifestyle, I would rush to take you again and keep you for my own. Every day, I'll remember you."

Every day, I'll remember you, too, she thought as she read the unsigned note again and again. She sat up and looked around, her familiar things in place in this new apartment she had rented when she moved to the DC area a few short weeks ago.

"I'll shower, get my bearings, think this out and put it behind me," she determined as she stood, a not-unpleasant ache between her thighs, her butt still sore, and the enormity of what had happened overwhelming her.

He raped me. Did he? her conscience asked. You seemed to be a willing participant. He forced me, she argued.

Did he? Or was he simply very persuasive?

He spanked me!

He did.

It hurt!

It did. Does it hurt now? Maybe it was your pride that stung you.

"This is ridiculous," she said with exasperation and made her way into the shower, intending to spend the next couple of days in bed having a pity party until she got it out of her system.

Not going to forget him, her conscience nudged as she washed her hair.

"Enough! He's gone and I'm home and... I'm..." She leaned against the shower wall, sobbing softly, though for the ordeal or the man, she wasn't sure.

~ End Part Six ~

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