"Paying the Piper"

By Loup Garou

Disclaimer: No, Perfect Stranger is not mine.

The icy dread was making it harder and harder to breath. She could even get in a proper breath. Her chest was so tight and restricting. Lungs begged for oxygen that could not be delivered. Instead of catching her breath, she drowned more in herself.

That feeling. The feeling you get when you know you're in trouble; when you know you're caught and there's no way out. It was the worst feeling in the world. Hope was lost, and things felt as if they would never be right again. Even though despite the feeling at the time they tend to work out in the end... But this wouldn't. She really had reached the end of her line. Like a cat who had lost all it's nine lives. No redemption. No saving grace. Grace... How she hated that word.

Her lips trembled, but no words could come out. Weakening lungs could do little for her, let alone suppose air for actual words. No, not a sound. Not even a whimper. Just silent tears falling down her high cheekbones. She screwed up. She screwed up big time... In fact, it didn't even give justice to just how bad things were. She was caught! Caught in a corner, and no twisting or turning could get her out.

There was a voice droning on and on, but paid little attention. Very little attention even though the voice now had control of her and her future. The voice knew too much. It had figured everything out, and recited back to her all the events that led up to this point. Her stomach... It heaved; threatening to dispose of everything that was in it. But she swallowed it, the growing bile. On auto-pilot she was following the voice around. Still not hearing, and feeling very little. At one point she was sure she had curled herself into a ball while resting her head on the voice's lap as it went on about her "carefully" laid plan. The plan that failed. She didn't notice how her body started to tremble, or how the voice now paused every now and then as if to assess her. There was little to be done though. Very little. She was becoming catatonic and ill with how things were turning out. It was the end. It was the end. It was the end. Oh god... Her stomach heaved again.

And the voice went on.

It was moving away from her, having sat her up and moved off the couch. She followed wordlessly. Soundlessly. Even without hearing, she could tell the voice was winding down. It was almost through with it's little speech. The one she hadn't heard a word off.

They were now in the kitchen, her and the voice. She was vaguely aware that it was silent for a bit as if waiting for her response, but she couldn't even muster a at the voice. Instead she leaned against the sink looking out the window above it. Her fingers were clutching the sink's edge in a fiercely tight grip. The warm color of her skin was turning white from the strain.

"Ro?"

The voice was calling her, but she was so far away. It was just a muffled inquiry in her head. Yet her head and vision tilted down to the counter top. To the left of the sink. It was long and shiny. The blade polished and sharpened to perfection.

"Ro?"

She still wasn't responding. The voice was curious as to what she was thinking or doing. It couldn't see beyond her back. Her hands were momentarily hidden. Oh... The knife. Use it to fix this problem. This would be the last problem before she could life a peaceful life. The life she's always wanted. The left hand began inching along the Formica counter top towards the black handle of the stainless steel blade.

"Rowena!"

It urged her faster, and her fingers were curled around the black plastic faster than an eye blink. Freedom. Do it for the freedom. She whirled around, the knife already held up in the air. Her face held fury, but also a trace of sadness and regret. But what other choice did she have?

The voice saw her turn quickly, and saw that her hand held a chopping knife. It was aimed at its heart, but the voice refused to die. This was a game that it had won. The voice's hand flew up and with little effort caught the distraught female's wrist in a vice-like grip. She could do nothing to actually fight him... For though upset, deep down she didn't want to.

"Drop it," the voice ordered with a slight hint of menace.

"Miles..." Pleaded her soft voice. Weakened by her panicked breathing and tiredness with this whole situation. Yet she didn't resist anymore. She let the knife fall from her limp hand. It clattered on the floor and became harmless.

Miles, the voice, stared at the trembling creature before him. Her eyes were half wild with fear. She truly was a cornered cat, with dilated eyes and a shaking frame. And still utterly beautiful. Never had he wanted her more. Now there was nothing there to stop him. She was his to do as he pleased, for she was not trapped in debt with him. For him to keep his lips sealed would take so much from her part. He knew it, and she knew it. Perhaps that's why her slim body quaked so. Freedom was forfeit now.

"So fucking beautiful. I've waited so long for this..." He didn't seem so mad anymore. Not at all perturbed by her recent attempt on his life. He doubted she would really try that again. There were more silent tears leaking from under heavy lashes as she had closed her eyes. Probably to block out her growing fear and anxiety.

Her voice had left her again. She was stock still as he examined her like he had done so many times in the past. But this time, unlike others, she couldn't ignore it. She couldn't even tug her hand from his tight grasp. Eyes remained closed since she wanted to see none of this. Didn't want to see a thing. Not the way his eyes devoured her with lust and secret planning, that wicked smile...

"Please, let me go," she managed to whimper. Eyes remained tightly shut. She certainly was asking for more than just her hand back.

Miles scoffed as he noticed what she was asking for as well.

"Can't do that, Ro. You owe me. You owe me a lot."

It was the answer she was afraid of. He didn't release her wrist, but he did drop their hands down to in between them. Far from the cute hand holding of people in puppy love. Far from it. She worried her lip with her teeth. Biting hard enough to leave marks, and a bit more pressure off from drawing blood. This suppressed the first noise of her crying. A sob that she had been holding this whole time. Rowena tried to swallow it back, but it became a painful lump in her throat. Which wasn't any better than letting it out. Her fact was salty and damp, but the tears kept coming. Eventually they would run out, and her already exhausted body would collapse. Tragically she wouldn't be able to sleep forever. Tragically none of this was a dream.

Miles was tugging her. Towards the living room no doubt. Having pulled back into herself, Rowena followed mutely. Again no protest. Miles sat on the couch, and gave her no room to protest as he tugged her down beside him.

She sat stiffly. It was quite obvious their friendship was dissolved, and sitting with him only made things harder to bare. All these years he's had a crush on her, and now she was for his disposal. Wait... No, not a crush. An obsession. One that grew everyday that he spent in her presence. Ugh, that retching feeling was back. Her best friend was now her worst enemy. So long ago she decided she couldn't return his affections, but now what could she do?

Die. She could die. More specifically, kill herself. That knife was good for her too. Or that leftover Belladonna... To just die would end all this. It's been going on too long. Way before Miles was even involved. Since she was a child her life has been a big game, and now when she thought she had reached the end and victory, she realized it was a different type of end. She should run. Bolt away from all this. And then deal her own fate, but a hand was still holding her wrist securely. Every now and again it would squeeze it, causing a small twinge of pain to flare up. She tugged back a bit, trying to give the not so subtle hint to let go. It did nothing. He wasn't going to.

Actually, instead, he leaned forward. His body turn towards her as much as possible on the couch without pulling his leg up. And she sat in the same fashion next to him. Though minus any intention of leaning closer than she already was.

"Ro, you don't know how much I've wanted to over the years. God, you're so fucking amazing," it was almost as if he were still in shock and afraid to make a move. The hand that didn't clutch at her wrist came up and stroked along her cheekbone. It wiped away left over salty tears that began to dry. She hadn't realized she wasn't crying anymore. Didn't mean she felt any better. Didn't mean she didn't feel like vomiting this very moment.

"That's nothing new, Miles," she snapped. The tone was bitter and acidic. It was quite clear she didn't appreciate a single thing from this. And that's when the first order came...

"Watch yourself. I own you now, and you better watch your mouth and tone."

Rowena didn't say a thing, but averted her eyes and stared off angrily to the corner of the room. This didn't suit Miles either. He roughly grabbed her chin and jerked her head back his way. Dark eyes snapped on him, as he just smiled in what Rowena would call a malicious fashion.

Now he didn't hesitate. With a tight grip on her chin, he was leaning in closer, obviously wanting a kiss. She started to tremble again. There was no more reservation as he locked lips with her. He didn't care of her aching fear, and he only pushed more with the needy kiss. It sucked what little breath she had in her away. It was hot and wet, not on her part, but his. She was frozen and unresponsive as Miles went on like this for a few long moments. But then he paused, realizing he wasn't getting a response from his prize. It annoyed him to say the least, but would be easily solved. He had barely pulled back before, but now he was back with a vengeance. Teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. Hard. Hard enough that blood would mingle in soon. Nonetheless, it had its desired effect. Rowena gasped, effectively opening her mouth. It allowed his warm tongue to slip in to taste her.

To him, she was very sweet with just a hint of tang. Of course that could be the bit of blood that now mixed with their saliva. But he found it delicious. Addictive. He wanted more. He wanted to taste all of her, but she was going limp in his arms. Finally he released her wrist, only to place it behind her head. Entwining his fingers with her soft wavy hair. He held tightly, causing, yet again more pain. Right now, it didn't matter. For years he's wanted this. The pink tongue explored every corner of the weakening girl's mouth. He felt a vibration between their lips, and it took him a moment to realize he was moaning softly. The heat was practically burning him. God, he wanted this so bad. The arousal was intense, mind blowing even before the first orgasm. It would be so good when the time came. It would be so good when he fucked her. So very good.

Her senses were failing and she was becoming faint. It was unsure if it was because of the breath-taking kiss or the building stress on her system. But whatever it was, the girl felt like she could sleep forever. Eyes had already dropped shut, even as lips continued to ravage her own. Even has the taste of her own blood filled her mouth. Her tongue remained immobile. She did nothing but let the other tongue explore her mouth, leaving traces of its own taste. He tasted like the wine he had been drinking earlier and something else. Something much deeper and masculine. To her chagrin, it wasn't a bad taste either. Just so unwanted. It was like poison on her tongue. Deep, romantic poison. Yet, she was still fading. Blackness was calling to her. And now that it did, she realized she was afraid to answer. Afraid to leave herself even more exposed with her captor. Still, she couldn't help it. Couldn't stop it. It was consuming her like the kiss. Hands were now supporting her up, but those hands turned to clouds and she finally went under. She finally passed out from mental exhaustion and stress.

No sooner then when she truly was out of it, did the kiss stop.

Miles was not upset. Far from it. Things had just begun. It could only get better from her. For now, he would let her sleep. Albeit, all the energy in the world wasn't going to save her from what was to come. Her life sentence would be a long, and if she was good, pleasurable one. If not... Well, we all know how that goes.