Tammy didn't get any sleep last night.

The stranger branded the lower side of her thigh, in the cup area between where an ass cheek meets a thigh. He took the panties out of her mouth and pocketed them, which Tammy chooses not to dwell on, before having her help clean up the mess he'd made breaking in.

He firmly threatened her life again before leaving.
Mark never came home last night.

Here she is, in bed, in a fetal position, butt naked, and with a fresh sore brand. She feels so unsafe and disappointed in herself. Disappointed doesn't describe how she feels in this moment.

She hadn't fought.

Tammy didn't even try to stop this white man from branding her as a slave. All night she tried desperately to remember what took place, but from the moment she found him on the other side of the door until being branded, everything is blank. If she thinks too hard, she begins to feel the familiar numb underwater feeling.

The only decision weighing on her mind is if she will or should confide in Mark.

Once attempting to switch positions, the immediate sting lets her know that isn't an option anymore. At least it's not an option right now. She allowed this guy to brand her. The decision is made. Tammy hasn't forgotten that Mark is a killer, and she can't tell him about this without bringing some information to ensure he will find her useful.

Mark has to have something in his room for burns.
Could a brand get infected?

Tammy enters Mark's bathroom, barely remembering when she left the bed. She in no way feels back to normal. She grabs the peroxide and squeezes it over the brand. Then using a cotton gauze pad, she dries the area before using Q-tips to apply an ointment that contains a pain reliever.

She cleans everything up and puts everything back, but she kidnaps one of the tubes of ointment. Mark's bathroom is stocked like a mini treatment center. It makes sense, given his lifestyle.

There are many bottles of pills.

The codeine calls out to her, and she grabs one out of the bottle, cupping her hands with water to take it. There is also Valium, and she takes two of those. She is shaking uncontrollably. The moment the stranger left, the tremors broke out and hasn't stopped.

Almost on autopilot, Tammy heads to her bathroom to use a washcloth at the sink, as best she can with the tremors, to stand and wash. She doesn't think a shower will sit well with a fresh brand.

She brushes her teeth and uses some water and petroleum jelly to pull her hair into a decent top knot.

Taking the loosest and thinnest pair of lounge pants she can find, she put on skipping underwear because of the uncomfortability of the brand being rubbed. Tammy changes into a fresh dark v neck tee, skipping a bra. Her breasts aren't big, so she never really wears a bra day to day.

The next step is the kitchen.

Tammy decides to make yellow rice and red kidney beans, baked chicken quarter, a salad with avocado, and a chocolate cake that she plans to eat a slice of with some French vanilla ice cream and shaved almond slices.
There is a bottle of white wine.

She had three cups of that, currently on the fourth when Mark enters and sits next to her on the couch. She isn't even feeling anxiety because of the meds.

He doesn't say anything.

Mark has five o'clock shadow and bags under his eyes. His clothes have been changed. He left in a suit but is now wearing Adidas track pants, classic black with white stripes, and a white tee.

He chuckles bitterly, and Tammy can sense something is wrong.

"Um, hello. " she doesn't know what to say.

"Cookie was killed yesterday." Mark leans his head back against the headrest of the seats. He seems shell-shocked.

"What?" She is genuinely shocked. However, alcohol mixed with downers isn't allowing her to feel the impact or express it.

He nods before grabbing the bottle and taking a hearty gulp."Interesting enough, my uncle Ivor was the one to give me the news. We don't know if it was someone trying to get to her father or who. There were so many reasons she could be a target."

The brand on her ass seems to ache at the cultural name.

Tammy remembers the stranger had an accent. Did that stranger have anything to do with Cookie's death? She couldn't say Cookie was likable, but she didn't deserve to be murdered. Would the stranger have murdered her?

Tammy sips her wine.

Mark has serious enemies, and maybe that stranger killed Cookie last night just for being in the wrong place. Cookie would have easily proven not helpful.

Mark is drinking out of the wine bottle. She allows him to pour more into her glass. There is silence. Tammy doesn't know what to say. How to comfort him...how to feel knowing she's keeping something huge from him. She wants to help him, and right now, she can only do that by keeping this secret until she knows something useful.

Tammy wonders why she even cares what is happening in Mark's life. She needs to survive. She needs to put herself first.

Mark's eyes meet hers, and she sees such emptiness, fear, and unsurety.

It's the broken, fallen angel she rarely gets a glimpse of. His face is closer and closer. Tammy can't breathe.

The next thing she knew, there is her shirt over her head. Mark is kissing her breast lavishly, licking and suckling each nipple. Maybe everything is catching up to her because she doesn't want to stop him. The moment is electric and charged with the chemistry that has been building between them.

She finds her fingers tangled in his hair as Mark kisses her neck. Kissing her collarbones, leading a trail back to showing her heavy aching breasts attention. A moan leaves her lips as her other hand slips into the pants rubbing her swollen slick clit.

It has been a while since she had sex or since she's touched herself, and she is almost dripping from this attention, quickly rubbing herself to an orgasm.

He kisses her gently. "Don't stop me this time. "

Tammy sucks on his bottom lip. "I want you."

Mark begins pulling down her pants, and she allows him.

First, he sucks and licks all the juices from her fingers. Then he kisses the inner side of her thighs. He would kiss and then suck one place gently. She knows there will be passion marks left. His lips caress the swollen bud of nerves.

Tammy's fingers curl in his hair.

He's sucking on her gently. Her pants and moans quiet but fill the room as she grinds against Mark's lips. His strong arms keeping her legs apart and allowing him to find the ball of her clit and rhythmically strum it with his tongue. Her body convulses as another orgasm tears through her. Her legs are shaking.

Mark kisses her while he rolls a condom over what has to be 9inches of thick veined cock. Tammy sits up, marveling at how beautiful it is. He sits back and pulls her up to sit over the head of his rigid member.

He drops her on his dick, her moist toned passage sucking him in until his balls are against her. A petite orgasm passes through her releasing new moistness that coats his ball sack.

"You're wet as fuck" he whispered in her ear before they lock lips again, and he grips her hips, bouncing her at an even pace on the entire length of his throbbing thick phallus.

Tammy can't lie; it feels delicious.

She meets the pattern he makes. The sounds of their bodies slapping together and the sound of her moistness fill the room before she orgasms a third time. Her hand grips his neck as Mark grips her thighs tight, speeding up the pace and now thrusting deep inside of her quaking pussy from below.

Tammy couldn't control the moans that tore through her voice. Mark establishes a new pattern thrusting into her deeply, twice, before on the third thrust bringing her up and down his whole length.

"Fuck I'm about cum." He groans, sounding like he doesn't want this to end.

Tammy is panting and frantically trying to keep up as she feels her stomach clenching, goosebumps breaking out over the body, as he licks a trail of sweat from between her breast. She yells as her body shakes and she trickles liquid.

Her pussy muscles milking and massaging his dick, which he is now deep stroking her with. Tammy is breathless as she feels him twitching inside her as he came, and she locks eyes with familiar blue eyes in the doorway as she came again.

"What the fuck, Mark!" A heavily accented voice calls out from a red-faced elder man.

"What's going on here!?" The older man bellows, standing in front of the man. Tammy is sure, is the stranger.

Tammy feels stuck in place, her body suddenly heavier than she can bear to move. Her dissociation is edging and mixing with the pharmaceutical and alcohol-induced fog. The environment feels like stepping into a warm bath and comforting. She gains an odd peace and security from Mark's 'don't give a fuck' vibes. 

Looking up to Mark, Tammy watches his eyes search her own and then scan over her briefly. Tammy imagines she hears a sharp intake of breath from him that he meant to muffle. It makes her realize Mark is putting his shirt on her. Tammy bites her lip, feeling embarrassed that she hadn't cared about anyone seeing her naked, but Mark took the initiative to cover her shame. The brand suddenly comes to mind as she tugs at the hem of the shirt that barely conceals the telling mark.

Mark doesn't care about her nudity because of her modesty but due to his newly acquired possession.

Upon having sex, an instant, a new dynamic is formed, and Tammy couldn't possibly have imagined that she'd allowed herself to be branded again. This time, in her soul.

Now Mark owns her.

He warned Tammy against this moment, him covering her nudity with his shirt. Tammy needs Mark, and now, he owns her. That should be scary, but for some reason, Tammy takes it as romantic.

Tammy is red.

Well, here is the first time being walked in on having sex. Sex that shouldn't have been had. However, the mix of pills and alcohol still isn't allowing Tammy to think clearly. Besides, it was going to happen anyway.

She does admit, now isn't good timing, and she should have thought things over longer and showed more restraint.

"I mean, I am having sex in my home with my lady.  " Mark's voice drips with sarcasm as he languidly pulls on boxers and then the track pants.

Mark's face is cast with an impenetrable look of 'I don't give a fuck'. Tammy feels something in her heart hurt for him. This is his family. This is a part of what's made him this way.

It is a side of Mark she saw, often but only in quick mood-changing moments. The moments didn't last too long, but it's there and silently warning that he's full of emotions and thoughts deeper than maybe she can relate. Then she gets a crazy idea; she wonders if perhaps she does relate and if she sees a broken piece of herself within him.

It's for his family that Mark ever wears a suit and tie.

All Mark's warmth is gone, as though the elder man and the 'stranger' have sucked his life force right out. Who are they to have such an effect on Mark?

"You can't keep yourself in decency, can you? I guess it's in your blood to be what you are. Your father wasn't exactly known as a decent man." The male shakes his head with a frosty glance toward Tammy. "One day, you're going to really need to get your head straight. "

"Just because my idea of decent and yours very, don't disrespect my lady or my father. " Mark turns to Tammy. "You should probably go to my room. You can watch TV and stuff in there while I talk to my Uncle and Cousin. "

Tammy doesn't need to be told twice.

Once she realizes she is still very much indecent in front of these strangers, it is time to go. She wishes she felt more embarrassed than she feels. She feels shameless.  Tammy neglects to take a moment to accept; she'd silently been waiting for Mark to dismiss her.

She'd needed his approval and to leave knowing they are good. Tammy won't notice that switch in her behavior right now. . .until it's too late to matter.

Tammy reaches down and takes the bottle of wine with her.

No need to act coy. She doesn't even want to try but keeps the shirt from riding up, revealing the brand. Everyone just witnessed her riding Mark. Tammy fakes confidence she doesn't have, but the drugs and alcohol mix with high, natural dopamine from sex,with Mark, and excitement from fantasy fulfilled; allows her to come off as callous.

She looks over the uncle and cousin.

Tammy notices the intruder doesn't spare her any glances or familiarity in his face. In a way, she has to admit she sees the similarity between Mark and the family. The family is so pale, so blond, and so blue. They come across as beautiful frigid glass people.

Mark is warm and vibrant, as beautiful as them but tangible and fleshy. Yet, in their presence, he's just that guy who held the gun to her father. He's become someone else before her face. She knows his cousin is the stranger, and those winter blue eyes are one's Tammy, will never forget.

The pale, beautiful man begins to spin in her imagination. Who is he? At the same time, panic. Something in her chest and stomach hurt every time he looks at her. There is panic, and her mind begins to scream: survive.