Page 8 of Soul to Possess

I leaned against the fence post, pulled an apple from my back pocket, and took a bite. Juice ran down my wrist. I let it. Out here, there was no one to impress. No mirrors. No eyes. Except mine.

They always said my eyes were green like something alive. Emeralds. Grass. Some other tired metaphor. But out here, no one says anything. Out here, I’m just a man with a fence and a mouth full of apple and the kind of stillness that makes people nervous if they’re not used to it. I didn’t come here to disappear. Not exactly. I came because the city stopped being quiet enough for me to think. People don’t notice you when you’re quiet, until you make them. I made too many people notice.

So I left. Built the cabin myself. Every board. Every nail. My father would've called it obsessive. I call it control. There's comfort in knowing a structure down to its bones. A redtail hawk cut across the sky overhead, screeching like it was chasing offghosts. I smiled. There were no ghosts here. I’d made sure of that.

Back at the house, I had ribs slow-smoking in the pit and something half-finished drying on the worktable in the barn. I’d get to that later. Right now, I wanted to breathe. The world out here is honest. It doesn’t lie to you with glossy windows or polished shoes. It’s dirt and blood and breath. It’s mine. And today, it feels still enough to hold something new.

By the time I made it back to the house, the ribs had gone tender, smoke curling in lazy spirals from the chimney like it had nowhere better to be. I opened the pit, flipped one of the bones with a gloved hand, and watched the meat separate like it was relieved to let go. I liked that. The breaking apart of things. The way heat or time or pressure always told the truth eventually.

Inside, the cabin held that golden-hour hush—shadows soft at the edges, wood floors still warm from sun. I left my boots by the door, wiped my hands on a rag, and grabbed a beer from the fridge I’d stocked more out of habit than necessity. I wasn’t much for drinking, but I liked the sound of the cap hitting the counter. Reminded me there was something to take the edge off, if I ever wanted to.

Didn’t mean I ever did. I had other more important ways to divulge myself of the edge. I stood at the sink, watching the way dusk settled across the back field like a woman wrapping herself in silk. Slow. Unbothered.

That’s when I thought of her. The one I called when my hands itched too long without a body to tether them. I didn’t know her last name. Didn’t care. She liked it that way. She came when I said, left when I was done, and didn’t ask why I always locked the door after she walked in. I picked up my phone, stared at her name. Just an initial.

L.Easy. But I didn’t hit the “text” button. Not yet. Instead, I walked to the back room. Past the shelves lined withold tools and bones I’d carved down to something that almost looked holy. Past the trapdoor beneath the rug. Past the quiet hum of things that weren’t quite dead.

I opened the drawer where I kept the letters. Folded, organized. Nothing romantic. Not yet. Just names. Ages. Bus routes. A system I’d paid to keep running. One girl hadn’t made it. Changed her mind at the last second. I never blamed them. That’s the trick with choice. People think they have it until they don’t. But the driver always remembered his job. He owed me more than he wanted to admit. Still, it had been a while since anything felt… ripe.

I tapped my fingers against the edge of the drawer and thought again aboutL.Her perfume always lingered. Fake vanilla and cheaper desperation. She wasn’t the kind you write about. But she’d do, if the blood got too loud. I shut the drawer.

***

The three sharp raps on the door echoed like a sinister symphony, a prelude to the night's dark dance. Midnight, the witching hour, and she was always on time. I could feel the anticipation coursing through my veins, knowing she was already undressing me with her imagination, her mind a whirl of forbidden desires. I opened the door, and there she was, clad in a leather jacket that molded to her body like a second skin, paired with tight black jeans that left little to the imagination. Her lips, a vivid, dangerous red, promised sin and surrender.

“Same rules?” she asked, her voice a low, throaty purr that sent a shiver down my spine. Her eyes locked onto the pulse in my throat, a silent promise of where she wanted to sink her teeth first.

“No speaking unless I ask a question,” I replied, the finality of my words echoed by the click of the lock behind her. She nodded, a subtle movement that spoke volumes. The wayshe handed over control, the unspoken agreement between us, was intoxicating. Others came to me for pleasure. She came to me to lose herself completely.

She didn't flinch when I took her phone, didn't question the drawn blinds. Her gaze, dark and unblinking, followed me across the room, tracking my hand as I pulled the heavy rope from the drawer—each movement a promise of a night she wouldn't forget. I bound her wrists behind her back, tight enough to make her breath hitch, a sound that sent a wave of dark satisfaction through me.

“Pain or just control tonight?” I asked, my voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate the very air between us.

Her pupils dilated, swallowing the irises. “Both,” she rasped, the word barely a whisper, a plea for more.

I gripped her chin, forcing her to look into my eyes, and led her to the center of the room, pushing her down until she knelt before me. Her eyes, wide and desperate, searched my face for a flicker of tenderness. She wouldn't find it. Her ‘plea’ for tenderness was met with a smirk that held no warmth. I was going to enjoy this. Enjoy pushing her to her limits and beyond. My fingers traced the delicate line of her jaw, a contrast to the rough, almost violent way I intended to take her. I wanted to hear her scream, to see the fear and excitement mix in her eyes as I showed her the true depth of my depravity.

I started with her jacket, slowly peeling it off her shoulders, feeling her shiver as the cool air hit her exposed skin. Her black lace bra barely contained her heaving breasts, and I could see her nipples hardening through the thin fabric. I leaned down, my breath hot on her ear.

“I know you think you want this.” I whispered. I trailed my fingers down her spine, feeling her arch into my touch, an involuntary reaction to my dominance. I unhooked her bra, the straps digging into her skin as I roughly pulled it off, lettingit fall to the floor, forgotten. Her jeans were next, and I could see the wet spot on her thigh-high stockings, a clear sign of her body's betrayal, her arousal evident despite her mind's protests. I pushed her back onto the floor, her bound wrists digging into the small of her back, forcing her to arch her back and expose her completely to me. I spread her legs wide, ignoring her muffled protests, and took in the sight before me. She was mine to do with as I pleased, and I intended to take full advantage.

I wanted to hear her beg, to see the struggle in her eyes as she tried to reconcile her body's reactions to me, with what she thought good girls ought to be. I lean down, my breath hot on her ear. “Shh,” I whisper, silencing her feeble attempts at resistance. “You're mine tonight. Every inch of you belongs to me.” And with that, I set to work, exploring her body with a mix of roughness and precision, leaving her in no doubt as to who was in control.

I took my time, drinking in the sight of her, the way her chest heaved with anticipation, the way her hips lifted slightly, begging for my touch. I started at her ankles, trailing my fingers up her calves, her thighs, before finally, slowly, dragging a single finger through her soaked folds. She moaned, a low, guttural sound that sent a jolt of desire straight to my cock. I circled her clit, feeling it throb under my touch, before plunging two fingers deep inside her. She cried out, her back arching off the floor as I began to move my fingers in and out of her, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside.

But I wanted more. I wanted to see her squirm, to hear her beg. I pulled my fingers out and brought them to my mouth, licking her juices off them slowly, savoring her taste. Her eyes followed my movement, her chest heaving with anticipation. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, sharp knife, the blade glinting in the dim light. I traced the cool metal along her thigh, watching as goosebumps broke out across her skin.I brought the knife to her pussy, slowly dragging the flat side of the blade through her folds, feeling her shudder with a mix of fear and excitement. I could smell her arousal, could see her body trembling with need. I leaned down, my breath hot on her ear. “You shouldn’t trust me.” I whisper, and she winces in response, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and desire.

I pressed the tip of the knife gently against her clit, just enough to make her gasp, and then I began to move my fingers inside her again, slow and deep. I could feel her body tensing, her breath coming in short gasps as I brought her to the edge of orgasm. I could see the pleasure and pain mixing in her eyes, and it was intoxicating. I increased the pressure of the knife slightly, enough to make her cry out, and then I let her fall over the edge, her body convulsing with her release.

But I wasn't done with her yet. I stood up, unbuckling my belt, and she watched, wide-eyed, as I slowly pulled it off, the leather hissing through the loops. I folded it in half, the buckle digging into my palm, and brought it down across her thighs, hard enough to leave a mark. She cried out, her body jerking from the impact, and I did it again, and again, each strike eliciting a cry of pleasure and pain from her lips.

Her pussy was glistening, her clit swollen and begging for more attention. I dropped the belt and fell to my knees, burying my face between her legs. I licked and sucked, my tongue circling her clit, my fingers plunging deep inside her. She was a writhing, moaning mess beneath me, her body trembling with the effort of holding back her orgasm. I could feel her tightening around me again, and this time, I let her go, my fingers and tongue working in tandem to push her over the edge once more.

As her body convulsed with her second orgasm, I stood up, unzipping my pants and pulling out my rock-hard cock. I stroked myself once, twice, before positioning myself at herentrance and slamming home. She cried out, her body stretching to accommodate me, and I began to move, my hips snapping against hers as I fucked her with wild abandon.

I reached down, gripping her throat again, squeezing gently as I pounded into her. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. I could feel her tighten around me, her body coiling once more, and this time, I let myself go with her, my cock pulsing as I filled her with my release.

I collapsed on top of her, our chests heaving in unison as we came down from our high. I could feel her heart pounding against mine, her body slick with sweat. I rolled off her, pulling her into my arms, and she snuggled against me, her breathing slowly returning to normal. I ran my fingers through her hair, gripping it tightly and pulling her head back to expose her neck. I leaned down and bit her, hard enough to leave a mark, to draw blood. She gasped, her body arching into mine, and I could feel her pulse racing under my lips. I licked the blood away, savoring the taste of her, and she shivered in my arms, her body responding to the dark, depraved act.

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