His Dark Obsession Chapter 10

The wretched rain has become a torrential downpour as I make my way home. The gutters are swollen and flooding over onto the sidewalk, swamping my feet and driving a harsh chill into my bones. These clothes will be ruined, but who cares? What’s a single outfit as punishment for making the worst mistake of my life?

I hunch my shoulders against the deluge and trudge straight through a puddle that goes up to my ankles. I’m the only one out, and rightfully so. No one would be caught dead in a storm like this.

What I did with Titus…it seems so completely out of character for me. To do something like that, submit to a man, it’s the opposite of what I’ve been doing my entire life. I’m a strong, self-made, independent woman. I had plenty of chances to cash in on my sexuality on the way up, but I shot them all down. And now, when the future of my company is on the line, I give it up to a man who couldn’t give a sh!t about me. In fact, he wants to destroy me.

The walk of shame.

I wonder now just how many other women he’s pulled this on. Clearly he knows exactly what he’s doing. Maybe he just has a playbook on how to romance women like me and get them to fall for him. He uses them for what he wants, then tosses them aside. Or maybe he blackmails them – tells them he’ll expose them if they don’t do what he wants.

A thought enters my mind that’s so chilling it goes beyond the cold that’s already causing me to shiver.

What if he filmed what we did?

I stop dead in my tracks as the freezing water dumps down on me. Suddenly, I feel so lost that I wouldn’t be surprised if the pavement crumbled out from underneath me.

If he has that on camera, then I’m doomed. I’ll have no choice but to sell. If my company collapses, I can still recover. I can start fresh, build something new on my reputation. But if he destroys that…then there’s no coming back.

There’s no one around, so I scream. I scream until my lungs are empty, and then I start to cry. The rain washes the tears from my cheeks, and I curse myself for falling for his bullsh!t.

I thought I’d found a man who understood me, more than I understood myself, and knew exactly what I needed. And I was wrong. All I did was step into a trap.

He’s nothing more than a monster. I bet he doesn’t even feel bad about this. In fact, I’m probably not even a thought in his mind at this point. He’s on his way home for another cigar and another whiskey—

And maybe even another girl, for all I know. With the money he has, he could hire every starlet in Hollywood to be at his beck and call. Younger girls too. I’m almost thirty for fvck’s sake!

When I finally arrive at my building, I keep my head down. I can see the doorman out of the corner of my eye doing his best to pretend he’s not looking at me. I must look like a crazy woman, but he knows better than to say anything. Dripping water all across the lobby, I make my way to the elevator and key for my apartment. Finally, safe.

But when I arrive, I’m greeted by something terrible.

Titus’ smell. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but I do now. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there, and my body is reacting to it.

“No, no, no,” I stammer, beginning to panic. “No!”

Still in my we*t clothes, I race into the kitchen and grab the spray my cleaning lady uses on the counter. It’s not exactly an air freshener, but I use it as one. I spray it all over the apartment, anywhere Titus was. Then I turn on the overhead fans and crack the windows. Anything to get rid of his smell.

But nowhere is safe. When I look at the couch, all I see is what we did. What he did to me. I grab a handful of hand towels from the kitchen and go to work on it, scrubbing it like a murderer trying to get rid of DNA evidence.

I’m probably ruining it. Whatever, I’ll just order a new couch. Maybe I’ll have the entire apartment re-decorated.

Maybe I’ll just move. I don’t know how I’ll ever get the memories of what happened here out of my mind. How I’ll ever forgive myself for being so stupid.

I scrub until my arms are sore, then strip out of my soaking we*t clothes and go into the bathroom. Turning the water on high, I climb into the shower and curl up on the floor. The hot water stings my skin when it hits me, but I don’t move. More punishment that I deserve, and punishment that doesn’t come from him.

I’m thinking about calling Amy to have her start looking for a new place for me when I realize my trek through the rain probably ruined my backup phone. Just another way Titus has managed to fvck up my life.

I’m going to have to sell to him…

“No!” I cry out, slamming my fist against the tiles, causing a sharp pain to flare in my knuckles. “I can’t…I won’t.”

Not to him. Not ever.

But if the company goes under, it’s not just me who will suffer; it’s my employees. Thousands of men and women will lose their jobs because of my pride. And it would be monstrous of me to allow that to happen.

“No, I’ll take Chuck and Bradley’s deal,” I mutter as the warmth begins to creep back into my body. I’m still shivering, and when I remember the four dozen roses that are still sitting in my office, I groan and hang my head.


I don’t know how long I sit there, but the sun is down when I turn off the water and wrap my we*t hair in a towel and cover myself with a robe. I go into the bedroom and slump down on the bed.

At least I didn’t bring the son of a b!tch in here.

But of course he wouldn’t want to have sex with me on a bed. No, it has to be domination on my couch after binding my wrists and ankles together, or slave/master play in his power office while his whole staff is just outside the door working. Nothing, apparently, can be normal for him.

But then again, how normal am I?

I enjoyed it. At the end of the day, that’s the hardest pill for me to swallow. As much as I hate the man, as much as I feel betrayed and used, I enjoyed what he did to me. It was the greatest thrill of my life, and the pleasure he gave me went beyond anything I believed possible. Even after the tears and the long walk home through the rain, I’m still humming with the aftershocks of the most incredible, earth-shattering orgasm. And what I hate the most is that I want more.

If he was here now, I’d submit to him. I know it.

I’d fight, swing at him a few times, but he’d overpower me with his strength. Maybe he would pin me down on the bed or maybe he’d just drag me across the kitchen floor by my hair before making me service him. And it doesn’t even matter the scenario; I’d go along with it.

“I need a therapist,” I mutter to the ceiling. Despite what I know, and everything that has happened, I want to love the man. Maybe I actually do, and I just can’t admit it to myself.

My heart hurts. I’m exhausted. The way I’m still tingling inside is like the universe taunting me, saying, “See! You do like the man. You did obey him and you’d do it again!”

I cover my eyes with both hands and practice my yoga breathing. It helps to go to sleep at night, but it does nothing for me now. I’m anxious. Twitchy. It’s like I need to go for a run or something…

No, that’s not what I need…

“Fvck. No, Chanel.”

No. I refuse to do that. Not now. I refuse to let him have any more power over me.

I force myself to stand and go into the kitchen. I get a cranberry seltzer from the fridge and take a sip. It’s going to take a lot more than that to make me feel better.

So I start walking laps around my apartment. I even sit down and try watching some trashy reality TV, but every show I turn to is a dating show or a marriage show or some show about singles trying not to have sex with each other, and all it does is remind me of Titus and me.

There is no Titus and me, I remind myself. There’s only Titus and his plans.

I try a horror movie, but it doesn’t work. I’m not in the mood, and I doubt anything could scare me right now. So I get up and head to the bedroom to at least try and get to sleep. But that’s when I see them…

“Oh, no…”

The belts. One of them in two pieces – his. And mine, the one he took from my bedroom, lying beside it.

I said I wouldn’t throw them away…

I’m frozen in place. My eyes are fixed on them, and that night comes rushing back to me. An intense yearning grips me – a yearning for that experience again. For him. God, what a brutal bliss it was to be treated that way. To lose all control and submit for those moments. All my power and responsibility was taken from me and replaced by impossible pleasure.

But that’s gone now. And will never happen again.

I snatch the belts and race to the window. I push my hand out into the rain and get ready to drop them, but something stops me. I can’t. I just can’t do it. They’re special to me now. Even if Titus is a monster, and even if we can never share something like that again, I’ll always have the belts to take me back to that place.

“Okay, Titus,” I whisper in defeat as I pull my hand back inside. “You win. Again.”

It’s like a ritual the way I dry off the belts and place them on the counter. I wish I had a camera so I could take a picture of them. God, that would be so senior-art-project of me.

“These are the belts Titus used to restrain me with when he made me s*ck his d!ck on my couch!”

Still, I want to do something with them.

I carry them into the bedroom and lay them out on the table beside my bed. I lie down and examine my wrists. They’re still slightly red. When I close my eyes, the memory of that night plays as vividly as though I was watching a movie in high-def.

The way he held me.

How his eyes looked at me with such lust – such desire.

The way he commanded me with such unrelenting dominance. Demanding to be respected.

How I submitted to him.

It’s so cruel. How can I desire a man so much? A man who doesn’t want me? I’ve done so many things with my life. I came from nothing and worked for everything I have, but the one thing I want now, the one thing I truly need, is out of my reach.

A man who doesn’t want me.

But even now, I can feel his power over me. Like gravity, it bears down on me, a weight on my ch3st, a sensation across my skin. My heart flutters when I think of him, and I can feel myself getting turned on, despite the fact that I know he will most likely end up owning my company and tossing me aside like a used paper towel.

Hating myself, I let my robe fall open as I slide my hand down my stomach. My fingertips are greeted by we*tness, more than I had expected. Even now, I underestimate how badly I want Titus.

I find it, that spot that makes me squirm, and although my touch is nowhere near the same as his, I do my best to pleasure myself. If I can’t have him anymore in real life, I can still have him in my fantasies.

Moving my finger in slow, circular motions, I think about Titus’ strong hands gripping me. How humiliated I was when he tore my panties off and stuffed them into my mouth like he was gagging a prisoner.

How he punished me.

How his c0ck felt exploding in my mouth and the rush of tasting cu*m for the first time.

Oh God…why do I need him so badly?

The sensations grow, building and building as I replay all our dirty moments in my mind. Longing for his touch, his voice in ear, his breath against my neck, I reach up and squeeze my breast, pretending it’s his hand gripping me…

…and my cl!max rolls through me like a golden wave.

“Titus…” I whimper as my body shakes. Such cruel pleasure. A weak orgasm – nothing compared to the ones he gave me. But it’s all I can have now. If I can’t have him, I’ll have his memory. No matter what happens from now on, I can always take myself back to those moments we shared.

My body goes limp as my cl!max releases me, and I take several deep breaths and try to calm myself. I’m still tingling and could probably go again if I wanted, but I’m just not emotionally able right now.

My vision blurs, and I realize that I’m crying. The shame I felt before is nothing compared to the embarrassment I feel now. If Titus could see this, he would be laughing his as*s off.

“Oh, are you sad, my little wh0re?” he would say. “Sad that you can’t worship my c0ck?”

And the saddest part about it? He would be right.

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