Ocean Of Need

💜 18 🖤 Nightmares

April 6th

I can't get my eyes open, can't move my arms. Where am I? Where the fuck am I. Has someone got me? Taken me?

'Lilah. Lilah, Baby, you're ok, you're ok.'

I can't breathe, fuck.

'Wake up. Little Pet, come on.'

My arms are working again. I manage to get them to my eyes and rub them open, I'm sitting up, gasping for breath. 'Where am I?' I pant.

'You're in the room. You're ok. You're with me, Mac. We slept here last night.'

Mac...That means I'm in San Francisco...I'm twenty-eight years old...My name is Deborah...No, that's not right...What's my name?..What's my name now?...Lilah...Yes Lilah, that's who I am now...I'm in San Francisco so that I can be safe and Daddy is coming to get me soon...Not my Father...He doesn't know where I am, I'm safe from him...Jameson...Daddy Jameson is coming to get me.

My heart rate is slowing. It's ok. I'm safe.

'Fuck. Sorry. Nightmare,' I say, as Mac's hand rubs circles on my back. 'I'll be alright in a minute.'

'Do you get those a lot?' A frown flits across his face.

'Hmm. Sometimes. Sometimes I'm awake but I can't move my body. It's like I've been kidnapped.'

'Kidnapped? What do you mean, kidnapped?' The frown morphs into concern, then edges towards fury. 'Did someone threaten you, Lilah? Is that why you got so scared in the cage?'

Shit, I really need to engage my brain before I say anymore. 'No. Sorry. Just a turn of phrase. It's like my nightmares are holding me hostage, that's what I meant to say.'

Relief washes over his face. Bloody hell, that was a close call, I almost told him the truth. I must make sure not to wake up with him again. It would be so easy for a secret to slip out, and much as I trust him, would he be able to resist the reward for finding me?

'I'm going to run you a bath,' he says. 'Then I'm going to wash your hair and your body, dry every part of you. Does that sound good?' He's nodding as he speaks, so I nod too.

*

We bathe together. Him sitting behind me, washing my hair, pouring water over my head to rinse it off. I kiss the tattoos on his fingers and he trails his fingers along the tattoo on my inner thigh.

We don't talk. I'm exhausted by last night. The club, the cage, the orgasm, the crying. I feel emptied, and at the same time full. Like maybe I'm growing into a different version of myself, but I'm not sure what it is yet.

He washes every part of me with soap and a cloth. Turning me back into his pet. Giving me a break from having to think, or work, or even function for myself. Then he stands up with me in his arms and steps out of the bath, standing me back on my feet. Drying every part of me with one of the large fluffy bath towels Freya kitted the bathroom out with.

He wears a bath towel around his waist and I make the most of his partial nakedness by staring at his beautiful torso. Then he removes my towel, drops it to the floor and turns me around. Running his hands over me, he turns me, little by little. Inspecting every inch of me. Dropping to his knees, he checks over my calves, my ankles, even my feet.

'What are you looking for Mac?'

'Marks,' he says quietly.

'Marks?'

'I'm making sure no one else has put their mark on my property.'

'Your property?' My voice is incredulous.

Without looking at me he say, 'What do you think it means to belong to me, Little Pet?'

'Belong to you? I thought that was just what we said when we play...' Before I can say more the scorch of his eyes are on me.

'You are mine now, and I don't share my toys. Not with anyone.'

Holy fuck. Part of me wants to kick him in the face, the rest of me is melting at his words. Still, this can't be right, can it? To be a man's property. That's not who I am. 'I'm not your property Mac. I belong to me,' I bite back.

'Of course you do,' he says, lifting my ankle and turning it slightly, inspecting every angle. 'But we both know, that really, you are mine. Why else would you let me collar you?'

'But I thought...'

He looks up at me, and the look silences me. 'You thought?' He cocks his head to the side, 'You thought that this was all a game?'

I nod.

'This is not a game. You put the collar on. That made it official. You belong to me now. I don't play games with that. This is who I am. And we both know that this is who you are too.'

Is this who I am? It's who I am when I'm with Mac. It's who I am when we play. But after last night it seems we are more than play. He protected me when I needed him. He protected me from me.

He has created an ache deep inside me and it is growing. Does that mean that I belong to him?