This Is Mine
Jane dressed carefully, studying her closet for a very long time before finally selecting a gauzy cotton dress with capped sleeves, a scoop neck, and a skirt that fell to her calf. In proper light the material was nearly transparent and left very little to the imagination.
She would look like a lady and behave like a whore and Charles would love it.
She slipped out of her apartment, hoping that nobody saw her, to make her way to the garage. She glanced at the platinum watch that George had given her as she slipped into traffic, her heart rate quickening as she realized she was running late.
Charles hated it when she was late.
She came to a stop in front of his house then slid into the passenger's seat, waiting. Another check of her watch informed her that she'd been seven minutes late. She groaned, knowing that she was in for a brutal fare this evening. Finally, Charles swaggered out the house, the sodium lights catching in his short, casually mussed blond curls, giving them a slightly rusty appearance. His black jeans were tight and his butter soft black leather boots matched the leather jacket that covered his black--of course--tee shirt. His sculpted lips were pressed into a thin, angry line.
Her heart began thudding in her chest. She knew that if you took him out of the bad-boy clothes and put him in a suit, he'd look like any other investment banker or real estate developer, but it was this, the dark, dangerous creature that she craved. Charles Bingley was bad news. She'd known it from the beginning, and she didn't care.
He got into the car without even acknowledging the soft, delicate beauty beside him. He drove for a long time before pulling to a stop on some random street.
"You were late."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"I don't care." Without warning he grabbed a fistful of hair and roughly pulled Jane to him, bringing their faces only inches apart. He could smell her fear and anticipation and felt his already tight jeans constrict him further. Silently, he undid his fly and shoved her face into his lap.
Jane was suddenly faced with a difficult decision; apologize for her tardiness or face a somewhat brutal punishment. Quickly, she chose both. Charles knew the quality of her blow jobs; he would know that this one was seriously lacking and then she would have the best of both worlds.
Before she could begin, her cell phone rang. She kissed the tip of his dick before she sat up. He glared at her as she answered it.
"It could be Elizabeth."
Charles muttered something about Jane's cunt of a sister and scowled at the road.
"Oh, hello, darling," Jane purred as George greeted her warmly. "Oh, no, not a bother. I'm just on my way to dinner." She tossed a casual glance at Charles' exposed cock and licked her lips.
Charles listened to Jane's voice drop as she continued the conversation and surmised that she most certainly was not talking to her bitch sister. Viciously, he grabbed the phone out of her hand.
"Who the fuck is this?"
"Who the fuck is this?" The man on the other end asked.
"I'm Charles Bingley. And you?"
"George Wickham, Jane's boss."
"Ah, the other one she's fucking. Glad to finally have a chance to tell you to keep your dick away from her." His eyes were dangerously narrow as he delivered a frightening look Jane's way. "The bitch is mine and you should take care to remember that."
He disconnected the call and threw Jane's phone out the window.
"Charles!"
"You just lost your phone privileges, darling. Now, get busy." He pulled her face into lap once again.
"What if Lizzy calls?"
"I don't give a rat's ass if that bitch calls. She's none of my concern. Suck," he commanded, giving her ass a slap.
Jane sighed and encircled him, sucking gently, but half-heartedly. Occasionally, she would take him in deep, but she mostly kept her mouth on the tip of him, licking and kissing and nibbling gently.
She was pissed off about her phone, and that he'd interfered in her relationship with George. She wasn't sure what she was going to tell Wickham yet, but she would have some serious explaining to do. She couldn't afford to lose George. Her job paid well, but she lived better than it paid and George was responsible for that.
Finally, she sat up. "I'm tired."
His eyes glinted like two pieces of obsidian in the dark vehicle. "You're not tired until I say you're tired."
Moving against the door, Jane turned her face away, angry and needing to strike out. "I don't want your dick in my mouth."
"You little bitch." Charles laughed, a harsh, unforgiving sound that curled her toes. "Are you actually trying to stand up to me? When did I allow you to become your own person?
"I own you, Jane. Haven't you realized that yet?"
"You aren't the end all, be all of my existence, Charles."
Silently, Charles did up his fly, started the car again and sped off into the maze of streets that made up the Chicagoland suburbs. He didn't look at her, didn't speak to her, but Jane knew that he was acutely aware of her presence next to him. Timidly, she tried to touch his arm, but he knocked her back against the door. Jane tried to swallow the fear in the back of her throat. She had never seen him so angry.
It had always been a game between them. There had never been any real emotions, just violence and sex, since they had met at a club several months before. Jane, who had been slightly drunk and more than a little tired of her good girl image, had relished the mistreatment Charles had delivered. She had taken solace and pleasure in the tarnishing of her stainless reputation by her association with the man Elizabeth had called "vile, useless scum."
Jane didn't love Charles.
"Charles?"
"Shut up," he growled. He was tired of her thinking she could use him when she wanted to feel bad. It was time to show her exactly what he thought of her, how he thought of her. Jane Bennet was going to pay the piper and it was going to be beautiful. "Close your eyes."
"I don't trust you."
He snickered, knowing that she only half meant it. She hadn't spent months letting him do the things he'd done to her and not trusted him a little. If there hadn't been some level of trust, then she wouldn't be here now.
"Close your fucking eyes, Jane." His voice was as sweet as it was cold.
She took a deep breath as she glared at him, but she shut her eyes. They remained shut until he pulled her from the car. He stood behind her, his hands firmly holding her hips, his mouth next to her ear as he pressed the front of her body against the car.
"You can open them now."
They stood before a dingy little storefront in a darkened neighborhood. It seemed out of place as it looked to be the only business among run-down, dilapidated homes. There was a small neon sign wavering above the door that read "Ink."
"What is this place?"
"Where you're going to be reminded that I am your life because I am the one who owns you, who does this to you." As they stood in the middle of the deserted street, Charles lifted the skirt of Jane's dress. She wasn't allowed to wear panties so his hand easily found her sex as it had a thousand times before. Quickly, he sunk a finger into her, finding her wet and throbbing.
Jane, despite her anger and fear, was helpless to do anything but react when he touched her. She moaned, leaning back against him, pressing her slender hips to his invading hand. All too soon, he removed himself from her body and passed his fingers beneath his nose.
"I adore the smell of you, darling. I'm sure Bobby will too."
"Bobby?" Jane asked, the uncertainty in her voice arousing her companion. She could feel his hardness against the small of her back. She wiggled against it, hoping to distract him into fucking right here.
"He's a friend of mine," was all Charles would say.
His teeth sunk into the back of her neck as his fingers dipped into her again. He let them dance about for a moment before withdrawing again. Dropping her skirts, Charles walked toward the storefront, pausing when Jane didn't follow. He looked at her impatiently, but she made no effort to join him.
"You should know," he hissed, "I am in no mood for defiance this evening."
Roughly, he took her hand and dragged her along causing her to stumble behind him. He released her once they were inside the shop and he was blocking the door. He smirked as she gasped in realization.
There were sketches and Polaroids covering the walls, showing the range of tattoos available. Some were small, some were large. Most were colored, a few were not. Many were beautiful, intricate designs such as portraits of children or Celtic knots; others were simple patterns such as names or playing cards.
There was a muscled, bearded man with close-cropped dark hair sitting in a director's chair behind the counter. He was reading a magazine and tattoos covered every visible inch of his arms and the chest beneath his muscle shirt.
"Chuck! How ya fuckin' doin', man?"
"Not bad, Bobby boy. Not bad."
"Who's the angel?" Bobby asked, eyeing Jane hungrily. He licked his lips as his eyes traveled over her body, taking in the curves beneath the thin material of her unsubstantial dress.
"She's hardly an angel, friend, and I suggest that you quit looking at her like she's your next fucking meal. She's my property and we're here to see that she remembers that."
"Charles," Jane said quietly. She trusted him to titillate her, to hurt her pleasurably, but her had never harmed her.
"Shut up," he whispered in her ear. "You have no say in this." He nodded at Bobby and the tattooed man stood.
Bobby locked the shop up then led the couple into another room where he silently handed Charles a piece of paper and a pen. Smirking coldly at Jane before pushing her back into a chair that was similar to something that belonged in a dentist's office, he proceeded to scribble something on the page. He handed the sheet to his friend and moved up next to Jane's head.
"Bobby, a minute?"
Bobby left the room leaving them to themselves. Charles, keeping his cold gaze on her, grabbed the hem of her dress and yanked hard. Savagely, he opened her legs to expose her, relishing the look of genuine fear in her eyes.
She had become too comfortable in their arrangement, even going so far as completely ignore him at a party they had both attended--but not together--the previous week. He had been ignored as she laughed and played the role of the good girl that everybody expected her to be. It had made Charles sick to see her charm everybody with sweetness and light when he knew that she hated how everybody thought of her. Jane had wanted him to hurt her, now he was more than happy to oblige.
He leaned over her body, his hands grabbing her breasts hard as he attacked her mouth. His teeth sunk into the soft, thick flesh of her tongue and he felt her hands twine through his hair as she responded to the angry passion he had for her.
She was undoing his belt when he suddenly stepped back. Moving to stand, Jane's eyes grew wide when he pushed her back down and slapped her cheek hard enough to sting.
"Skirt up, legs spread." He glanced casually at her sex, seeing that she's just waxed. "A clean pussy. Good girl, for a change."
Sucking in a breath to calm herself, Jane studied him for a moment. "Charles, what are you planning?"
He brought his face close to hers, his body hovering over her again. A smile with no humor covered his lips.
"I'm marking you, my angel. So that you'll always remember that you belong to me."
"Charles," Jane began, the pleading making her voice thick. "Don't do this. I'm begging you."
"Beg all you want. It won't change anything. You need to be reminded that," he paused as his hand covered her sex, "that this is mine."
At that moment, Bobby returned, carrying a small plastic box. Carefully, he laid his equipment out on a sterile cloth-covered metal tray, trying hard to ignore the exposed woman in the chair before him. Charles Bingley was a dangerous man and it was best not to cross him.
"Are we ready?" Bobby asked, looking carefully at Charles.
"Charles," Jane whispered. "Charles, please."
He ignored her. "We're ready."
Jane closed her eyes, humiliated as Bobby settled into his seat, positioning himself between her thighs. He moved around then pressed a piece of paper against the smooth, rounded flesh before him. In that singular moment, Jane loathed Charles as she had nobody else, not even Elizabeth. She longed for him to suffer as he made her suffer.
Finally, she opened her eyes, focusing on the ceiling, trying to ignore her body's stirrings at the work being done on its most intimate area. She glanced over to find Charles carefully watching Bobby and she glared at him. She was still staring at him with equal amounts of anger, humiliation, and hate in her gaze when he met her eyes and gave her a lazy half-smile. He leaned in close.
"Keep it up, darling Jane, and you'll think this punishment is cake."
The needle was suddenly pounding into her delicate skin and she sucked in her breath, surprised. It felt like a million tiny pinches as it violated her flesh over and over again. Slowly, as resignation to her fate seeped in, Jane realized that it didn't feel so very bad after all. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more excited she became by having a stranger's face so close to her, hurting her.
Jane closed her eyes, letting the sensation of the pain wash over her. Always fascinated by pain, she felt her body begin to react as the repetitive puncturing continued. The room was silent but for the sound of the electrified needle that was marking her until a quiet moan floated up unconsciously from her lips.
Her eyes were again closed, this time in pleasure, when she sensed Charles near her ear. "You like it, don't you? You like having a man you don't know able to smell you react to the pain he's causing you?"
She knew better than to answer that question in his present state of mind. Carefully, she looked at him and shook her head.
"I'm thinking of you."
"Don't lie to me," he hissed. "I know you like nobody else knows you. I know you better than that cunt of a sister of yours. I know you better than the boss that fucks you. I am you, Jane, and this is why you are mine."
She nodded silently and tried not to enjoy the feel of Bobby's pen. Finally, he was done and Charles dismissed him as though Bobby were a child. Quietly, the large man gathered his equipment and left the room. Charles picked up a mirror and positioned it over Jane's new tattoo.
Her flesh was red and swollen around the delicate, dark blue characters that now graced her skin. It was obviously Chinese in origin, but she couldn't make out what it said.
"This is mine," Charles said, his voice nearly tender as he bent and placed a gentle kiss on the tortured skin. "Mine."
Jane's breath came faster as she realized she'd been branded and that she really didn't even mind. It wasn't a romantic gesture, or a harsh reality; it was a simple truth. She was his. She couldn't escape him, she couldn't deny him, and she couldn't forget him.
"You understand, Jane? You'll never be free of me."
With that, Charles rid himself of his tight jeans and slammed into her with such force that her teeth rattled. Her damaged flesh screamed as he pounded against it and Jane felt tears spring into her eyes as the pain combined with pleasure coursed through her body. He filled her, pausing as his mouth covered hers, his tongue pushing into her and tasting each exquisite moan.
Hips arched to capture the remaining bit of him, Jane wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him while he held her hips.
"It's only fair," she cried on moan, "that you give me the same courtesy."
He stared at her for a moment, unsure of her meaning. She tightened the muscles in her thighs, squeezing his cock tightly inside her. Before he could comprehend what she was doing, Jane twisted and bucked, sending a jolt of agony through Charles' system.
"You've claimed me as your own, Charles. Surely, you don't think you can deny my claims on you." With that Jane's fingernails sunk deep into the skin of his back and she pulled them down hard, ripping at him, fueled by the force of their combined pleasure, as he filled her.
He pulled out of her, his dick sore and his back on fire as the welts began to bleed. Her hand slipped down her belly to the fresh wounds and she touched her hand to them gently, examining her own blood on her fingers before sitting up to pull Charles back to her. She delicately stroked his wounds, mixing their blood.
Neither of them said a word as Jane placed her claim on him. Instead, he kissed the pads of her fingers then righted himself before leaving the room. A few moments later, he returned with Bobby trailing behind.
Bobby handed Jane a piece of paper.
"He said to sign your name."
Jane did as she was told, her eyes never leaving Charles' as he settled in the chair she had so recently been in. Bobby repeated the process that he had on Jane, using fresh equipment and noticing a differently charged atmosphere than the one he had previously encountered. When he was done, he moved to leave the room, surprised when Jane caught his hand.
She stood on tip-toe like a little girl and brushed a light kiss across Bobby's lips. "Thank you," she said. "It was stimulating."
Charles cleared his throat and Bobby quickly left, a blush setting fire to his cheeks. Jane, smiling as innocently as she could, strolled up to her lover and touched the freshly inked tattoo.
"Too bad it couldn't have gone lower, but I think Bobby might have freaked out." She traced the still swollen letters of her name, in the same dark blue as her own tattoo, that were placed just a few centimeters above his swelling cock at the end of the light smattering of hair that trailed down his belly.
She bent, taking him into her mouth and sucking hard and long. Her teeth grazed him occasionally which sent bullets of pleasure to his brain as his fingers snaked through her hair and pushed her down. She sensed him just as he was about to come and quickly spit him out only to climb on top of him and grind herself into him. As she rode him, she watched his face. She was always mesmerized by the way his dark blue eyes went black when he was being fucked.
His eyes never closed.
Jane threw her body forward, scraping her teeth across his nipples and she knew he was done for. His deep voice cried out her name as she rotated her hips slightly and then they lay there in the chair, breathing fast and hard.
A few moments later, Charles lifted Jane off of him, grabbed some paper towels and wet them in the sink. He lifted her skirt, wiped her thighs and the bloody tattoo gently then let her dress him. She kissed his lips quickly before they went out to the front to pay the man who had supplied them with a new avenue of pleasure.
He was very careful to avoid looking at Jane, especially after Charles took her hand.
"Bobby, it's been fun. Thanks."
"No problem, Chuck," Bobby said softly, trying to avoid Charles' eyes and not wanting to remember his friend's dick in his face. "See you around."
The couple left the parlor, disappearing into a world of their own making, to enjoy the rest of their evening.