Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Possessed
   by Nysidra
   Erotic Romance (MF, occult, possession, dirty talk)
   <->
   Vanessa stared at the phone number on the square slip of paper she found
in her jacket pocket.  He'd put it there after their first night together.
   She met him during an experiment, rather than hitting the club for a
quickie, why not try dating?  While not in her frenzied state, of course.
When the fever hit, conversation was not high on her list.
   Her strong attraction to the quiet, broad-shouldered man at the sports
bar triggered an early outbreak.  At least, that's what it felt like.  How
could she tell?  Was that how a body normally reacted?
   She took the empty stool beside him.  Instead of playing the coy dance,
she got straight to the point.  "Hello.  My name is Vanessa."
   His warm, welcoming smile gave her an extra dose of incentive. 
"Trevor."
   "Trevor, I'd like to leave this place with you and fuck until sunrise."
So much for patience and conversation.
   He gave her a long look as he upended the dark brew in his glass. 
Vanessa knew all about that 'are you serious' look.
   He set the empty glass down and signaled the bartender, "Close me out."
Then, to her, "I can accommodate you, but I want to know the bad news."
   Vanessa had to think on that one a moment.  She gave him the first thing
that came to mind.  "I have a condition.  It's best you just think of it
like short-term nymphomania.  I'll be gone by morning, but until then..."
   "That's the bad news?" He signed the bill and stood.  "Follow me."
   She shared the cab ride with him to his place.  Vanessa was quiet.  She
held her lip between her teeth and her hands between her knees to resist
the urge to put her face in his crotch and mew like a hungry kitten.
   ***
   He respected the silence, didn't try for small talk.  She didn't expect
the brick family home in the gated subdivision.  Was he married, divorced,
were there children?  Without the blunt force of her fever, she was able to
seriously consider these questions, but she didn't care to voice them.  She
would be gone in the morning.  His life did not matter.
   Thinking back, Vanessa wasn't sure what was so special about this one
hook up of the dozens she'd had throughout the years.  He'd kept to her
needs - fucked her the whole night through with the stamina of a marathon
runner.  He was handsome, well-equipped, strong, and he knew his way around
a woman's body.  Maybe it was because she wasn't in the full grip of her
madness.
   The next day, she'd found his number along with a note:
   "Just call.  Anytime.  -Trevor"
   ***
   Vanessa had already used the number once during a full blown,
sanity-erasing attack.  She'd been hitting the clubs, looking for a male,
feeling every bit the bitch in heat.  No one caught her eye.  She left the
club at a run, heading home for the paper pinned to her cork board.
   When the phone rang, she wasn't sure what he would say or if he would
remember her.
   "Hello?"
   "Um, hi." It had been a month since he gave her the number. 
   She heard the smile in the way he sighed.  "Vanessa.  Got an address?"
   Not in my home, Vanessa thought, but she gave her address, along with
instructions while her hips rocked back and forth, grinding her throbbing
pussy against the edge of the chair.
   "I'm ten minutes from there.  Open the door for me."
   Fuck.  That gentle purr in his voice revved her.  She clamped her mouth
shut to stifle words of desperation.  Sounds of traffic filtered through
the other line.  What had she interrupted?  Was he hard?  Another clench of
her vaginal walls further dampened her panties.
   "Open the door."
   She unglued herself from the chair and undid the lock.  "Maybe I
should..."
   "Stay on the phone."
   Sir!  Yes, Sir!  She screamed mentally as she paced the living room.
   "Are you naked?"
   "Partially."
   "Completely."
   Vanessa stopped pacing.  She thought to laugh, balk, or brush the
statement off, but she cradled her phone and peeled off her g-string.  "I'm
completely naked."
   "Now there's a good girl."
   Good girl.  The first time he'd called her that her belly fluttered and
heart to skipped.  This time was no different.
   How long until his vision of her was tarnished?
   'Need him.  Need him now.  Over and over.  Hurt me.  Use me.  Wring me
out.  Leave me limp.  His smell, his touch.  I'm all his.  Make me scream,
scream out your name.  So wet, so hot, all yours.'
   Rational thought was long gone by the time he entered her home.  Vanessa
didn't remember if there were words exchanged.  One moment she was
squirming on the couch - a haze of events later she was bent over it,
shaking and screaming.
   Yes.  That was exactly what she needed, what she deserved, what would
bring her back to sanity.  Again.  Again!
   Another night spent in his masterful thrall.  Was that why she favored
him?  Had she somehow sensed that he could provide without question?  But
for how long?
   Stupid, silly thoughts.  No man would keep her.  No man would want a
sick slut like her on his arm.  Hell, for all she knew he had a girlfriend,
a profession that commanded respect.
   But he'd said anytime.
   "One more," his voice was seductive, demanding of her in the same tone.
"For me, baby girl.  One more."
   She'd made that same plea to others.  Vanessa had not decided whether
her request was made from a place of sanity or the dying grasp of her
malady.  Perhaps it was the final chance to feel in control.  'One more,
because I want it, not because I need it.'
   But what was his excuse?  For him.  The reason didn't matter.  She came
as many times as he wanted.
   ***
   One day the fever would return and demand its depravity from someone
else and put an end to their tryst.
   But today, Vanessa groaned and squeezed her thighs together as she
caressed the slip of paper.  Today was not that day.
   She wanted him alone.
   She hadn't bothered to dress up.  She lay on her back, caressing the
note as if it were a lover.
   'I want Trevor.'
   The first intrusive thoughts were her early warning system.  But the
voice usually said: 'I want cock.  I want to fuck.  I want to swallow a
mouthful of semen.'
   No.  None of that today.
   'I want Trevor.'
   The voice of madness said nothing more.  After their last encounter,
Vanessa wasn't surprised.  A couple years with this curse had taught her a
thing or two.  She wanted to push him away, so her disease wanted him more.
Eventually, it would want to hurt him, to break him.
   Last time, he lay in bed beside her questioning her while she was half
sleep.  She had been exhausted, thoroughly used.  She couldn't recall his
questions or the answers she gave.
   She didn't want to see him again, didn't want him treat to her
differently.
   'I want Trevor.'
   Her nipples tightened painfully in agreement.
   ***
   "Trevor?"
   The soft desperation in her voice had his dick swelling before he could
get his mouth to respond.
   "Yes?"
   "What's the code for the gate?"
   "9157.  The door will be open." Trevor kicked his covers back and
hurried to the bathroom.  Anytime.
   He was overjoyed that the sex kitten called him when she needed him. 
More now than when he'd only been trying to keep a hot fuck to himself.
   His attitude had changed after she explained that she was inflicted with
a nymphomania that overtook her like a fever, a hunger that drove her to
seek satisfaction - in accordance to her will or not - the fever did not
care either way.  It wasn't a way to excuse her gluttonous sexuality as
Trevor initially assumed.  Nothing else worked for her, not masturbation,
not women, not regular, normal sex.
   He emerged from the bathroom to find she'd taken up his bed, naked and
waiting.  Her skin was flushed a seductive cherry caramel, her eyes
ravenous but wounded.
   No words.  He pushed her onto her back and put her legs over his
shoulders.  Fuck, his luck was too good.  She was so damned beautiful, hot,
wet, and so fucking tight.  Trevor took his time, handled her with care. 
Slow and steady.  It was going to be a long night.
   "Give me that fat cock," Vanessa whispered.  "Fuck me.  Fuck your whore.
Don't hold back.  This pussy wants you, all of you.  Make me yours."
   She was more brazen, bold, and dirtier than any woman he'd ever known.
Each of her words caressed the root of his balls.  She currently whispered,
but he'd have her screaming soon.
   "Don't you worry.  You'll get all you can handle my beautiful goddess."
   Though blinded by lust, Trevor sensed Vanessa could comprehend him.  She
called him, didn't she?  That, and he didn't have the heart to return her
words in kind.
   He countered her depravity with praise in order to express how honored
he was to scratch her itch, to give her his cock over and over.
   "You like this fucking slut.  You like using her holes for your
pleasure. You like filling my fuck holes with your creamy thick spunk."
   Yes, yes, he did.  "I'm happy every time you call, Vanessa.  You can
feel how happy I am.  I know you do."
   Her tendency to refer to herself in the third person did not escape his
notice.  In the same manner, he noticed when that impersonal banter
slipped.
   "You make this cock hungry slut so happy.  Her pussy weeps at the sound
of your voice.  Listen to that wet pussy, drooling all over your cock.  Do
you feel those lips clinging all over your fat meat?  Are your balls wet,
Trevor?  Are your balls coated in this slut's fuck juice?"
   "You are so wet.  I feel you.  Now, be a good girl and come on my cock."
Trevor panted as he slammed into her.
   "I'm not a good girl.  I'm a dirty fuck slut."
   "You know why you're a good girl?" Trevor emphasized his next words with
each thrust of his pelvis.  "Because you do like you are fucking told."
   Trevor had been here enough to know that this what was she wanted,
needed, exactly how she needed it.  His 'fat cock' spreading her open,
ramming deep.  His body over hers.  And yes, she was so wet that the sound
of their meeting bodies filled the room.  His balls were cool and wet,
slapping against that round ass of hers.
   "Yes!  Please, just like that." She rolled her head back and screamed.
Her body shuddered and he didn't slow, didn't let the clamping of her inner
walls pull him over.  She wasn't finished.  This wanton ball of lust had
only just began.
   "See?  Now that's my good girl.  Such a beautiful sound.  You want
another one?"
   "Yes," she whined.  "Please, give it to me."
   "I'm glad to hear that.  It's exactly what you're going to get.  Take
it, Vanessa.  Take my cock and come all over it."
   "Please, please, please." She was writhing under him, her body still
riding along that plateau.  "Fuck me.  Yes.  Fuck.  Tear my pussy up."
   "That's my girl.  I'm right here.  Make it count."
   "Don't stop.  Please don't." With a long feral groan she was off again,
flying and cursing and crying.  This time her warm, wet vice grip yanked
his own orgasm over the cliff with her.  Those few seconds were pure
ecstatic bliss as he came inside her.  His good girl.  His hungry little
slut.  Trevor rolled onto his back and palmed a slick sheen of sweat from
his face.
   "More," she panted.  "Please.  I need more of you inside me.  Trevor,
I'm still horny.  Fuck me.  I need you.  I need that fantastic cock inside
my pussy, hitting all the right spots." She could barely catch her breath
between each sentence
   Trevor closed his eyes and grinned.  "I know darling.  I know." He
grabbed a fistful of her honey brown curls and put her face in his crotch.
"You know what to do then, don't you?"
   She hummed around his flaccid cock.  It was frothy with her juices, and
she licked and sucked at him with such enthusiasm - but not crazy or wild -
just attentive, impassioned, her tongue and lips begged the blood to
return. It was a shame there wasn't a film crew to capture her in these
moments, to immortalize the white hot blaze of her service.
   Trevor suspected the nature of her curse was closer to possession than
madness.  What else could explain the way she suddenly turned cock hungry
for hours at a time?
   He stared down as her mouth worked up and down his shaft, circling the
crown, the way she sucked on his balls, teasingly lapped under them.  Every
thing he'd said, each bit of direction he'd given her, she committed to
memory and perfected.
   "Fuck yes.  That's it.  That's my good girl." He thrusted his stiffening
cock between her willing lips.
   Trevor suffered a curse of his own, neither mental nor paranormal.  His
libido was 'fit for porn,' as an old girlfriend had praised, but all praise
turned to criticism when he wanted to spend whole days inside a woman.  The
sensation, the feeling, the physical euphoria was its own addiction.  One
he refused to give up.
   Vanessa rose and attempted to straddle him, but he held her hips away.
"No, please.  Please give it to me.  I'm burning up.  Fuck me till I'm
squirting all over you.  Trevor, please, fuck me."
   The way she craved him, the tiny tremors in her body made him feel light
headed, expand with male pride.  He rubbed the head of his dick along her
slit.  She'd been telling the truth.  She was burning up, hot and swollen
and throbbing, but he held her trembling hips firm.
   "Trevor." Her voice had a hard edge, devoid of play.  "Don't toy with
me, mother fucker."
   "Watch your mouth." He pulled her down onto his belly and smacked her
hard on her backside.  It was the first time he'd hit her.  He rubbed his
stinging hand on her warm ass and her reaction, the whimper in her throat,
thrilled him.  He smacked her again, three sharp slaps to drive his point
home.
   She whimpered, trembled, kissed his neck as he stroked her warm ass.
   Trevor pulled her down onto him, slow, but firm, until he was balls deep
inside her.  "Go on, ride me." He kept his hands on her ass, occasionally
reaching up to roll her nipples, pull on them.
   "Thank you," she whispered as she lowered her breasts into his face.  He
took the offering and sucked while she rode his dick.  "You feel so good
inside me, but you won't last.  This whore is going to need more than you.
I want cock in all my holes, all at once.  They'll fuck me until I bleed
cum.  She won't be satisfied with you."
   Trevor kissed her while he thrust up into her.  "Whatever you need,
Vanessa.  I'll help you find it.  You want more?  A cock in your ass, down
your throat, deep inside your pussy?"
   "Yes," she sang with a pained whimpered as he tightened his grip on her
hips and drove into her.
   "I'm going to need you to be a good girl."
   "You want your slut to come?"
   "Yes, I want my sexy kitten to come." Mine, Trevor relished the thought,
tightened his hold on her.
   "Fuck me, Trevor.  Please use my cunt.  Treat me like the whore I am. 
Hurt me.  Pound this wet cunt."
   Trevor buried his head in her shoulder and did as she asked.  Those
illicit words thrilled him, inspired him, seduced him into giving her
everything she needed.
   "Your girl," her voice sounded raspy, dark, "is a cum catching rag doll
built for being fucked and tossed aside like a used condom."
   Trevor brought one hand from her hip and put it around her throat.  "If
you want to know how I'd treat you when I'd done fucking your brains out,
you should stop running away.  Now come."
   She did, over and over until she was limp and bone tired.  He walked her
into the shower, helped her clean up.  She passed out on the living room
couch.  He tucked a pillow under her head and tucked a blanket around her
body before heading back to his own bed.
   ***
   Vanessa woke and pushed herself up right.  Typically, she woke from her
'bender' feeling dirty, ashamed, even nauseous.  Not so this morning, never
any morning after Trevor.  She woke feeling far closer to something like
'good.' She smiled at the blanket wrapped around her.  After a deep
inhalation she realized that it smelled a bit like him, woodsy, rich. 
   'Stay.  Stay and find out.'
   She lay still and explored that notion.  Find out what?  Something from
last night, no doubt, but she was in control of her actions now, she could
disobey those intrusive suggestions.  She should go home.
   Curiosity remained.  Find out if he only cared about fucking her?  Why
not?
   Vanessa walked to his bedroom.  The door was open.  There were
different, lighter colored, sheets on the bed.  She stood in the door way
and listened to the sound of him breathing.
   How would he react if he woke with her beside him?  Vanessa steeled
herself and approached the bed. 
   Trevor stirred and smiled up at her.  He lifted the blanket and patted
the mattress in invitation.  Vanessa crawled in and luxuriated in his
warmth.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
   Did she know now?  Was this an answer?  She was back to sleep before her
more lecherous half provided a response. 
   ***
   Trevor hadn't had such a good morning since his first year with Andrea.
He missed a woman in his bed, a warm body next to his, soft, curvy,
beautiful.  And this woman, the luscious siren who called out to him in
crisis.  How could he keep her?
   "Are you awake?" she whispered.
   "Yes."
   "Sorry, I just needed a few extra hours."
   "I'm not." He kissed her shoulder.  "How do you feel?"
   "Sore, but sane."
   They shared a subdued laugh.  "Can I interest you in breakfast before
you run away?"
   "Perhaps, but I don't want to overstay my welcome."
   Trevor laughed.  "I'd run you off before that happened."
   It was her turn to laugh.  "Is that a challenge?"
   "I plan to ask you about the first time this happened to you."
   Her easy smile fell and she sighed heavily into her pillow.  She
squeezed the hand draped over her breast.  "Yes, you'll win."
   "I'll wait until breakfast." He kissed the back of her neck again, but
pulled away before she could feel him stiffening anew.  "What do you like
for breakfast?"
   ***
   In truth, Vanessa knew who had put the curse on her.  She remembered the
heated confrontation, the hurt in the scorned woman's eyes.
   "You'll suffer, you whore.  You'll suffer for what you've done to me."
   She'd flipped the petite woman off.  It wasn't her fault her husband was
looking elsewhere.  It wasn't her vow to keep.
   Unfortunately, she couldn't find the angry woman and tell her, "Yes. 
Okay.  You win.  I'm suffering.  Please, make it stop." If only she had
admitted that bitter truth before the woman drowned her children, shot her
husband, and jumped off the roof of her apartment complex.
   What a disturbed little witch.
   Her first attack came over her a month later. 
   "I was between houses at the time.  I wanted to get out of the city,
away from them and anyone that knew them.  I didn't know he was married,
not at first.  When I found out, I honestly didn't care.  I didn't even
like him like that.  He was just a hookup." She shook her head. 
   "I was staying with my uncle." Vanessa kept her eyes on her food.  "When
I was a teenager, I idolized him.  I thought he was so handsome.  I mean, I
still thought that, but I wasn't a juvenile about it.  He was working
behind the bar of a neat little club he owned.  Really chill guy, let me
stay at his place while I looked for another job.  He offered to hire me on
part time at the bar, but I was doing all right." With a sigh, she got to
the point. 
   "We were having a night in, ordered pizza, put on a movie, drinking.  It
starts with a thought, just a single thought, then it grows into a rant
that blocks out everything else.  The thoughts spill from my brain to my
mouth.  I see and feel and think, but I can't stop the flood.  I drown in
it.
   "It wasn't him I thought about, but I was too drunk to drive and I
needed to leave.  He pressured me into telling him why it was so important
I get out of the house." Vanessa drank deep from the glass of orange
juice. 
   "I told him, 'I'm so horny I can't think straight.  I need to get fucked
and now.' You know," she shrugged.  "That's the gist of it, but I didn't
stop there.  Once the words were out it was a fire hose of verbal porn.  I
think he was holding me by the shoulders because he didn't know what else
to do with me.  The words continued and when I felt the slightest downward
pressure I looked down and saw his erection.  I didn't care who he was.  He
had become a thing, a thing I was convinced I needed.  I went to my knees,
took him out, and, well, he forgot who I was too, I guess.
   "The guilt didn't set in for a couple days later.  I mean, he's just a
man.  I didn't blame him; I can't.  He didn't see me as sick or unwilling.
I'm sure he thought he was following my lead.  Anyway, he was only too
happy to have a nympho for a niece."
   Vanessa palmed the tears from her face.  "It got so bad that he didn't
even bother asking.  I didn't even need to be awake.  I started avoiding
him, getting my shit together.  I left while he was at work one night.  We
haven't said a word to each other since.  I haven't spoken a word to my
family and they haven't called."
   She shrugged and finally met Trevor's eyes.  Her heart nearly broke
seeing the mixture of anger and pity and sympathy.  Of all the men she'd
been with, she'd never felt so respected.
   "You asked me for something last night.  If, in your haze, you still
want it, I want you to call me.  Anything you want."
   Asked for something.  She always said so much, she tried to put it out
of her mind, but an inkling came back to her.  Yes, that was probably best,
best for him to learn why she couldn't be viewed as anything better than a
slut.
   Trevor came around the table, pulled her to her feet and embraced her.
He placed a kiss to the top of her head.  "I mean it.  Anything, call me."
   "What do you mean by that?" Her words were muffled against his chest.
   "Company, friendship, movies, sex." He smiled and hugged her tighter. 
"Call me."
   Vanessa nodded.
   ***
   The offer stood, but Trevor had not heard from Vanessa in two weeks.  In
the meanwhile, Trevor made other arrangements.  He had a couple friends
that would be more than eager for a bit of fun.  More importantly, they
shared his view on women.  They were beautiful creatures, dragons guarding
the riches of the world, deserving of respect, honor, and love, especially
the ones who were freer with their bounty than others.
   "Hello, Trevor," Andrea greeted as she took barstool beside him. 
   Some of them, however, proved undeserving of such praise.  "Hi."
   "I get it.  You're still mad, but I'm willing to pay my penance if
you'll give me another chance."
   Trevor shook his head.  "Why bother?  I'm done with you.  No need to
make up."
   "Of course there's a need.  I miss you.  I was terrible bitch, and I'm
sorry."
   Trevor nodded and emptied his drink.  Terrible, sorry bitch, an ugly
truth he wouldn't soon forget.
   Time had been kind to her though.  Those hips, thighs, and the
comfortable swell of her bosom beckoned him.
   "Penance?  I want to know how you'd make amends and for which offenses."
   "I'll show you."
   "Tell me, then I'll see about the showing."
   Time apart had not dulled her creativity either.  He became aroused as
she descibed the treatment she desired, but the woman in his mind was
wanton, trusting, filled with adoration, delighted in his touch.  Not to
punish her, but to excite her, to fill both his and her need for all of
life's decadence.
   What if he called her instead?  The nights without Vanessa had been
painful, hollow.  Each day made him face the gulf she dredged between
them. 
   "What do you think?" Andrea's cheeks were pink and she wore a proud
smirk on her face.
   Oh.  Her.
   "You gave me a few ideas.  That's for sure."
   "Listen, Trevor.  I'm not asking for it to be 100%, but will you let me
take the edge off?  Use me hard, bruise me."
   "I'm seeing someone."
   She chuckled softly.  "You're fucking someone, otherwise, you wouldn't
be here.  I just want to be an addition.  How long has it been?"
   ***
   Vanessa stared at her cell phone and groaned.  She rubbed her thighs
together, opened and closed them like a pair of anxious butterfly wings the
way she'd been doing since she woke this morning. 
   'I want Trevor.' 
   The madness living inside her sounded like a junkie, fixated and
spoiled. 
   No, Vanessa thought, someone else.  Leave him alone.  He deserves
better. 
   'I want Trevor!' The thought was a scream that caught in her throat. 
   That was why it wanted him, she figured, because he was kind, because
she liked him, because it wanted to ruin the only good thing in her life.
   And yet, she wanted to run to him.
   "Please, stop."
   'He'll come.  He'll come to me.  If you call, he'll spread my legs.' 
   Her thighs parted.
   'He'll put that cock inside.  He'll fuck me so good.  Trevor.  I want
Trevor.'
   She hadn't called him in weeks, didn't accept the offered friendship,
and that hurt more.  She wished she had, wished that the junkie in her head
wasn't begging to call him now.
   The phone was at her ear and ringing, but she didn't remember dialing
the number. 
   "Hello?" His voice.
   Her clitoris throbbed in answer.  She bit her tongue to quell the moan,
squeezed her thighs.  No man had held the interest of her curse for so
long, so acutely. 
   Another voice, a woman's in the midst of conversation.  "Who is that,
Trevor?"
   In the background, a television played commercials.  He was with someone
else.  Of course.  Why wasn't that a perfectly normal situation? 
   Who was she?  No one.  No one at all.  A sick girl.
   Vanessa fought to make her voice sound strong, nonchalant.  No big deal.
I Don't Care.
   "Never mind." She ended the call and tucked the phone under her pillow.
"See?" She whispered to her curse.  "This is what a slut like you gets. 
This is what I deserve." Vanessa felt her skin cool and frowned. 
   Wait?  What this really happening?  She lay staring at the ceiling.
   Yes.  All she felt was alone, sad.  Her thoughts were her own.  While
she had the moment she let her eyes mist over before she got up and
dressed. 
   There was that rugged green eyed barista working downtown.  Random hook
ups had been working just fine before Trevor. But his stamina, his
confidence, and yes, okay, his size had been addicting.  That was what she
wanted, needed.  His purr in her ear, that reverence in his touch.  She'd
be his slut.
   She didn't deserve him.  She didn't deserve to keep him from having a
normal relationship with someone who didn't turn into a rabid slut.
   Vanessa sank to her couch, clutching her purse, and groaned, but not
from sexual frustration.  She'd been having attacks every few weeks since
meeting Trevor - and now she was trying to force the issue?
   She worried her lips as she considered the implication.  Considered. 
Thought.  Clearly.  She wasn't having an attack.  There wasn't any fever.
She'd been horny and the sick part of her merely wanted to play along?
   "You want Trevor?" She whispered out loud.
   'I do.'
   ***
   Trevor stared at the display of his cell. 
   Never mind. 
   The wounded dismissal replayed itself in an unending loop.  He opened a
new message and sent her a text.  His cock and heart were pounding and
thinking the same answer: Go get her.
   "Really?  Texting?  I've never seen you think straight around such
shapely company." Andrea struck a pose in her cotton shorts that probably
would have work if he'd bothered to look at her. 
   "A friend needs me."
   "Oh, so, that's what the tent in your pants is about?  What the fuck? 
Why'd you ask me over?"
   "I need to go, so get dressed and leave." Trevor grabbed the bag at the
floor of his closet and pushed her - confused and shrieking - out of his
house.  He didn't even hear the stream of curses as he walked to his car,
but he was sure the liberal use of 'fuck you' was involved.  He redialed
Vanessa's number. 
   "My Trevor.  My gorgeous man." Her voice was thick, raspy.
   "Are you alone?"
   "You mean did this fuck slut find a gullible dick to stick inside her?
No."
   "Don't be vulgar.  I know you weren't putting up much of a fight.  You
were waiting for me."
   "Why would I do a thing like that?"
   No pretense.  No overly sexual exaggeration.  He was holding a
conversation.  He had been guessing until she proved his point.  Vanessa
had been more than simply cursed.
   "Because you want to be my good girl," Trevor purred.  She moaned in
response and he rubbed the heel of his hand over his erection.  Damn him to
hell, he loved her like this.  He'd missed her so much.  "I promised you a
reward, and you want it, don't you?"
   She was quiet for several seconds before whispering, "Yes, please, I
need you."
   "I know, and I'm on my way.  I need you, too."
   "Who the fuck was she?" The growl in her voice sounded murderous.
   Trevor grinned broadly as he sped up.  "No one."
   "Did you fuck her?"
   Trevor took a breath and considered his answer.  "My dick was hard and
you've cut me off.  What was I supposed to do?"
   "Fuck her.  Is that what you did?  Did you make her scream your name?"
   "She couldn't scream with her mouth full.  I didn't fuck her.  I whipped
her, then I fucked her mouth.  I ought to turn your ass red for leaving me
to even touch her."
   "You need my pussy?"
   "Fuck yes.  Get out here." 
   He pulled up and watched her practically run to the car.  She jumped in
and sprawled across the passenger seat until she was in his lap.  "Mine,"
she seethed as she pulled out his cock.
   Trevor grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out of his lap.  "Then
fucking act like it."
   She pouted and glanced down to his crotch.  "Let me, please.  Please,
let me swallow you."
   "Close the car door.  Keep your legs and lips closed.  Fold your hands
and sit still.  I'm taking you to a hotel.  You do what I tell you,
understood?" He let go of her hair.
   Eyes wide and surprised, she nodded and shifted around to pull his door
closed.  She sat back in her seat and pull the seatbelt around her.  She
closed her legs and folded her arms.   
   "I'll be good," she mouthed the words and then her eyes settled on his
partially exposed erection. 
   Trevor decided not to torment her and tucked himself away.  The five
minute drive was painfully silent.
   His phone buzzed as calls and messages went unanswered, probably from
Andrea.  As if he'd ever let that harpy back into life.  He parked, grabbed
his bag, and walked Vanessa to the room. 
   ***
   She kept her mouth shut, but her eyes were alert, taking everything in.
He paused at the room, card key in hand.  "Vanessa, do you want this?"
   She smiled and nearly went to kiss him.  "Please, yes, use your, your
good girl."
   Trevor hummed in approval as he opened the door. 
   ***
   Vanessa leaned against her wall mirror, her palms flat on either side of
the frame.
   "Why did you do that to me?"
   Her reflection offered no answer.  Once she was away from the trio, she
stopped answering her phone, she crashed at a co-worker's house for a few
days in case he tried to stop by, but she didn't stay long.  Eventually she
had to face the horror that was her life.
   Now that she was home she feared what this creature living inside her
would want next, to what depth it would drag her.  She had become host to a
greedy parasite.  One day she wouldn't be able to suffer the burden.
   "Call Trevor." Her lips formed the words, but her mind had not created
the thought.
   "What the fuck for?  So that you can make him do something else to me?
He actually respected me.  I liked him." She pushed off the wall and palmed
her tears.  "Fuck you."
   With a powerful sniff she straightened her shoulders and dismissed her
attempt at communication.
   "He needs me."
   Vanessa snorted.  Now she was literally talking to herself.  She'd be
locked up in a matter of weeks at this rate.  "Is that the royal me?  Who
the fuck are you?"
   "Have you ever found one so tireless?  He has gone on even after we were
sated.  You could have walked away.  I could leave you now, but you would
not be able to meet his demands alone."
   "Does he demand that I debase myself as well?"
   "No." Her own words, her own voice sounded sullen, apologetic.  "That
was my pleasure, not yours, but you felt nothing?"
   Vanessa stared up at the ceiling and ignored that question.  She
couldn't tell what feelings were her own anymore.  There were flashes of
memory, Red's tongue, the dizzying euphoria of Trevor at her front, Marcus
at her back.
   Trevor purred warm honeyed words, "I love you so much, my treasure, my
goddess."
   Vanessa shook her head and sank into a chair.  Did she ever really hear
that?
   "Do you," she whispered aloud, "suppose that he just met Marcus and Red?
That their comfort around each other was a recent occurrence?"
   She hated the logic, her own blindness.  Her feet moved, but she was
just a passenger, willing to let something else drive.  She lifted her
phone and did not bother with looking at the missed calls and messages. 
The phone rang and rang.  When he answered, he did not speak.
   Neither did she.
   "Enough with the games," he sighed.
   "Excellent," she answered.  "I have something to give you."
   Another weary sigh.  He sounded quite tired of her, the conversational
tone of others in the room broke her heart.
   "My name.  I will be summoned at your will, not a moment before, and
once summoned, well, you know how to put me back in my box.  I do hope
you'll take me out to play.  In return, she won't have a reason to feel
cursed.  I'll stop hurting her.  I promise."
   "Vanessa?"
   "Yes?" It felt odd, speaking under her own volition just that quickly.
   "Where have you been?"
   "A co-worker's house, female."
   "What were you doing?"
   "Sleeping, eating, crying.  Alone.  It didn't bother me."
   "Did I do something to upset you?"
   "No.  I don't understand why you want anything to do with me." But she
knew now.  "I didn't at the time."
   "You do now?" He didn't sound well, the note of pain caused her guts to
twist in sympathy.
   "I'm sorry, I didn't remember."
   "No.  No need for that.  You're the one with a rider.  What's your
name?"
   Her lips moved, her skull hummed with a vibration, air flowed through
her voice box, she heard sound, but understood nothing.
   "Get in that box and stay there until I call you." She felt the presence
recede as before, leaving her with Trevor.  "I'll meet you for dinner,
tomorrow at eight.  I'll pick you up at your apartment." He ended the call.
   That left her with 10 voice mails.  She listened to each one, cringing,
wincing, crying her way through each one.  As painful as they were, she
never heard the message she'd been dreading.  No you slut, you cheap whore,
you anything.  These were worse: worry, concern, hurt, sadness.
   The last message sounded like a reluctant good bye, "I get the point. 
I'll stop.  If you're just going to keep using me like this, don't call
back."
   Vanessa shuddered to think how he would have reacted if she were in a
state, how she would have deserved the blunt force of his anger.
   ***
   I woke rubbing my thighs together.  I woke with his name on my lips.  I
woke on fire, but not consumed by the flame.  After images of the dream
echoed in my sleepy brain.  On top of me, kissing my calf, thrusting deep,
whispering his praise.  I'd been good.  Oh, how I wish I'd been good.
   My hand snaked down my belly, over my mound, but my fingers stopped
short of the slick pool I sought.
   "No." The voice was gentle, not demanding.  "Wait for him.  This is his
body to exhaust, to wring dry, your fire should be his to douse."
   I didn't like that it was still using my voice and talking to me, but I
had to admit I liked the idea.  I was aroused and here my tormenter wasn't
allowing me the release I knew I could finally get.
   I'd see him tonight.  Would he even want me?
   I pulled my hand away and grabbed my breasts instead.  I parted my legs,
spread them wide.  I grinned slightly, suffering under this curse had put
me off sex.  I was terrible, incurable.  I bit down on my bottom lip and
rolled my hips.  It wouldn't be so bad, being his whore.
   Yes, that was my own thought.  Mine alone, because I felt the cheshire
smile deep in my soul.
   Something else I could finally do on my own.
   "Trevor," I let his name pass my lips, pretending I was still dreaming,
that he was thrusting inside me.  "Trevor, please." I got bolder still,
called his name out louder.  I giggled and rolled in the bed.  I'd probably
screamed louder than that.
   Fuck, this was awesome.  I hadn't been honestly horny in ages.  I got so
carried away, whipping myself into a frenzy with my imaginary lover that
the knock on the door scared me.
   I screamed and scrambled to the door, belting my robe around me as I
went.
   Trevor came through the door as if he lived there, took a slow glance
through my home.  "What were you doing?"
   "I just woke up.  I was in bed."
   My heart was still beating a war march from a fear that did not abate.
Was he going to be mean to me now?  He said that I didn't have to
apologize.
   Trevor stalked over to me, pressed me to the hallway wall.  "I heard you
moaning."
   "You heard me calling your name."
   He grabbed my jaw and stared at me, looking in my eyes as if I were
hiding something.  "Just you?" He looked at my hands and I knew what would
have been there.
   "I want you to touch me." I brought his hand down between my thighs.
   He easily found his way.  I moaned and squirmed as his fingers squished
their way inside me.  "Like that?"
   "Yes." Better than what I was thinking.  I kept myself upright by
clinging to his shoulders.  He took his time, staring at my series of
expressions.  My robe fell open and provided a cushion between me and the
wall.
   His thumb brushed my clitoris, fingers worked me into a frenzy.  He was
neither rushed nor impatient.
   I was.  Of my own lust, I wanted him, needed him.
   He pulled his hand away, a thin strand of liquid clung to him.
   "Trevor."
   He hushed me as he pulled down his pants and began to fuck me as
leisurely as he fingered me.  "Not a single word from you.  I want you to
listen."
   I listened.  His heavy breaths, my tiny plaintive moans.  He felt so
divine, so perfect inside me.  The heady sensuality of his body nestled
inside my was addictive.  I didn't do much thinking, moving, anything.  I
submitted completely to his will.
   It wasn't until after he came inside me, carried me back to my bed, that
I realized it was the first time that I, free from any maddening insanity
or compulsion, had slept with him or any man, in over a year.
   The moment of enlightenment must have shown on my face because Trevor
laughed and kissed me.  "I enjoyed you very much." His kiss didn't allow
room for a response.  I guess I still wasn't allowed to speak yet.  We
kissed and caressed each other until I felt his erection on my thigh.
   'You will not be able to meet his demands alone.' Damned if I couldn't
try.
   I looked into his eyes and for a moment, he pulled away, let me take a
breath of air.  I wanted to predicate my next statement, qualify, explain,
but I feared he'd shush me before I said what mattered.  So I started with
that: "I love you." Once it was out, the details seemed less important.
I loved him, his patience, respect, his body.  Goodness knows I loved
fucking him.  I loved the way he made a slut like me feel cherished,
wanted.
   "I love you too, baby girl.  You and all your demons."
   <->
Written: December 2011
   Contact: nysidra at hot mail dot com
  
Possessed