… solipsubmissive …

This is a continuation.  You might wish to follow this link to the beginning:  soiled, Part 1  

While Chloe slept peacefully, Daños waged a personal internal battle which denied him the luxury of slumber.  Though he did not believe her angelic claims, her innocence went without question.  Consent – normally a thing of beauty – was, in this case, a double edged sword.  She knew nothing of what she offered, hadn’t the necessary tools to make an informed decision.  By the time she learned, it would be too late.

Daños knew that wouldn’t stop him.

Carefully, taking great pains to not jostle her, he slid his arm from beneath her, gently slipped her from the warm cove created by his body, and tucked the covers more securely around her sleeping form.  She murmured something unintelligible, but didn’t wake, just nestled her hand beneath her cheek and settled, her breathing becoming, once again, slow and deep and even.  After a lingering look, he got out of bed, pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants and left the room.

There would be a price to pay, he knew, for soiling her.  The thought of it felt wrong, danced, both horribly and delectably, on the edge of desecration.  How often, he wondered, is one given the opportunity to destroy an angel, albeit a delusional one?  The sadist inside him stirred expectantly.

He wouldn’t wait long.

Daños entered the gloomy kitchen, still shrouded in semi-darkness, untouched, as yet, by the promise of sunlight, and turned on the prepared coffee pot.  He listened for a sound from her, hoped for one, even, allowed himself to believe that her trusting eyes could keep at bay his demons.  He heard nothing, however.  As the aroma of brewing coffee filled the room, he braced a hand on the ceramic-tiled surface of the center island, bent his head, pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger.

Bloodlust.  So strong he could taste it, salivate for it.  His nostrils flared, sought the scent of her fear, metallic and thick, headier than the most exquisite perfume.  More intoxicating than the fine brandy that curled around his tongue and carved a spreading path of warmth from his throat to his extremities.

***

Michael felt the change, knew the moment loomed.  He tried to go about his normal functions, but the sense of impending danger tugged at his consciousness.  Within moments, he found himself hastening toward the observation cloud.  Helpless, he watched the restless man as Chloe slept, noted the violent tension in his stance.  And when he straightened, Michael knew his internal war was over.  The sadist had won.

With a brittle, dangerous smile, Daños mounted the stairs.

***

Chloe woke to darkness, though the sun had long since risen.  Confused, she looked around, noted the shuttered windows and the closed doors.  When she realized she was in the bed alone, she sat up abruptly.

“Stay there, angel.”

She watched him approach, moving silently in from the shadows like a large, predatory cat, and caught her breath.  She couldn’t see his face, but she sensed the change in him, felt the danger coalesce.  It snaked around and inside her, gripped her heart in icy fingers, compelled her to tense, to prepare for flight.  Except…

“Mm.  Good girl.”  He placed a knee on the bed and leaned over her, placing a hand on each side, pinning her beneath the covers as surely as he pinned her in place with his command.  His eyes found hers, and, though he didn’t ask, she had to answer.

“Yes,” she said, the last letter drawn out in a hiss, as he forced her back into the pillows.  Without a word, she turned her face, tilted back her head, offered him her neck.

He growled once, bared his teeth and found his mark.

Chloe screamed.

part 15