#fyrelvrposts

Tom stood silently behind the worn, velvet-covered couch, tilting the brass lamp slightly so that its warm, amber glow cast soft pools of light across her face and shoulders.

The illumination felt protective, almost intimate, compelling her to meet his steady gaze—so even if she tried to look away, her eyes remained fixed on his.

Odette’s breathing grew ragged, each breath burning in her lungs as she averted her gaze to the large, antique window behind Tom, who had effectively trapped her against the rigid wooden frame of the chair she sat in.

“You dare to look away from me?” Tom’s voice was low and commanding as he tightened his grip on her chin with his thumb, the sharp edge of his fingernail digging into her skin. His sneaky, almost predatory hands snaked around her like a hunter cornering prey, creating a horrific scene to watch.

“Don’t slouch so much,” he murmured softly, his tone laced with authority. Deep down, Odette sensed the dangerous edge—an inescapable, commanding presence that demanded obedience.

She was right. She often was, especially when she heard him continue to speak, or more accurately, correct her: “Sit up. Don’t hide from me.” His hands moved with calculated precision, gently yet insistently lifting her shoulders and coaxing her spine straight with tender, deliberate touches.

Each contact was purposeful, guiding, controlling, and she flinched but did not pull away, reluctant to defy him completely.

Tom leaned in from the other side, pressing a lightly calloused hand softly against her knee. His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles, as if marking territory or feeling her pulse through the thin, stretchable fabric of her leggings. “Don’t fidget,” he said, his voice low, teasing, almost playful, but with an undertone of suffocating dominance.

“Stay still. We want to see you. All of you.” His smirk was gentle, almost reassuring, but the commanding aura he radiated made her feel both secure and vulnerable.

This carefully crafted expression was an extension of him, one that he had perfected over the years, born with the innate ability to fake emotion and intimidate without remorse.

Odette’s breath hitched. She wanted to shrink inward, to vanish into herself. Yet, the layered touches, the calculated closeness, and the deliberate posture adjustments left her caught in a fragile tension, a mix of panic and reluctant submission.

“Look at me,” Tom commanded, tilting her chin upward with the pads of his fingertips. “Eyes on me, Odette. I need to see that you’re paying attention. Not to anything else. Only us.”

She obeyed almost automatically, trembling. He offered a slight smile enough to reward her compliance and reinforce the growing connection he sought to establish.

Tom gently tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingertips brushing her neck in a soft, lingering caress. “You know deep down that you prefer this,” he whispered, almost a secret. “Letting us take care of you when things get overwhelming. You secretly like it…Don’t you?”

Odette’s lips parted in a quiet gasp, a flicker of realization showing in her eyes as her hands clenched her thighs and her shoulders trembled. “I… I…” she tried to speak, but her words faltered.

Tom crouched slightly, reaching for her hands and holding them gently but firmly in his own like a cage of warmth and dominance. “Shhh. Don’t speak yet. I’ll get you there. We’re here to help you. Just… let us lead.” His gaze inspected her, reading every twitch, hesitation, and nervous glance, gauging how far to push, how much control to assert without breaking her completely.

Just like he always did.

He pressed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her now subtly forward, shifting her slightly from the couch so that when she turned her back to him, he could reshape her memory. Since his gentle anchors on her mind weren’t enough, this physical reminder would have to suffice. “Good,” he murmured. “Right here. This is where you belong. With me. With us.”

A new memory began forming within Odette’s mind, one cast with an almost hypnotic spell. She didn’t even realize how far she had drifted from her original roots, with her parents becoming an unwitting enemy, her identity subtly reshaped by this unyielding influence.