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UNSUB
Obsession.
It starts with a spark. A flicker. At the strike of a match. Lying dormant in most of us, obsession feasts on the fumes, breathes in the smoky scent, curling around and in on itself. Building.
We pet it, nurse it into existence. It is ours. All ours. A coveted perfection.
And when it refuses t
o be ignored, it rages. It roars to life. A blazing inferno. Consuming.
We are but pawns to its deceptive power. Though we attempt to guide it, caress it tenderly into a loving beauty, it cannot be controlled. It’s a haunted, vengeful lover. Like a wildfire devouring life in its path, we can only follow its carnal trail.
Slaves.
Obsession rules us. Our master.
And we submit.
Obsession can be our paramount joy; sweet, sweet love. It can also be our utter hatred. An ecstasy of sorrow.
Our pain becomes like a festering scab, and though it hurts to continuously scrape it open, the compulsion to do so is overwhelming. One second of pleasure when we tear the wound wide and then our guilt eats us alive.
But, oh—for that brief moment the relief is divine.
“No! No! Please—” Her bare feet kick out at me as she writhes, twisting and struggling against the rope binds.
Building…building…like the peak of a volcano, the pressure cooks. With her every scream, a gratifying shiver slithers up my back. It’s so close to that seductive pull you feel right before you climax. When your gut tightens. Your jaw clenches.
The wider her eyes become the closer I get, the more fear shines in the whites. Glossy like glass, shimmery with tears. I tilt the candle, and wax drizzles over her thigh, eliciting an orgasmic cry. It barrels through my senses until I’m helpless, and I drive the fire into her flesh.
Her back arches off the table. Her muscles lock tight. A piercing scream hangs in the air around her, suspended by the agony of unbearable pain.
Suffering.
It’s an aphrodisiac. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I reach out and touch her trembling body.
I am but a slave to obsession. Owning that is freedom, and soon my love will know that freedom, too.
But first… I slide my zipper down. Her whimpers and pleas for mercy only heighten my desire. In order to gain control over the beast, I must possess her. Overpower her. Control demands it of me.
As her sobs fill the air, my thrusts decimate her fragility.
Shoved in her mouth the clue goes. My hand clamps over her thin lips to force her mouth shut. There’s always sadness at the end. Not remorse; rather a farewell to a beloved toy.
Shiny metal slices into creamy, soft skin as I drag my blade across her neck. A wet gurgle escapes her mouth, eyes wide with horror. The acceptance of the inevitable.
Without obsession, we may be free. Peace could have a chance. But what would life be without obsession? Hollow vessels, bored and impotent.
Death. It is obsession’s ultimate price.
A small tribute to pay to our beast.
5
Unbind Me
Sadie
