In My Possession Novels & Stories

I think in myself. ***

As if the fabric might dissolve if I handled it too roughly. "Beautiful," I breathed, the word inadequate but the only one I had. "Elliot." My name, drawn out, half-plea and half-prayer. "Shh. Let me. Let me look at you. My wife. Mine." The possessiveness rose in my chest, unfamiliar and unexpected. I'd never thought of myself as a possessive person. Never felt the need to claim, to mark, to declare ownership in any way that mattered. But looking at her now, laid out in my bed in nothing but lace and skin and trust, the feeling settled into my bones with the weight of truth.

But the words lingered, echoing in my head. A possession. I was a possession to them. A thing to be fought over, claimed, owned. Not a person. Not someone with feelings, dreams, fears. Just a prize. The tears came before I could stop them. Hot and bitter, they streamed down my face. I pressed my hands against my stomach, trying to stop the shaking. "I'm not a possession," I whispered. "I'm not a thing." But no one was listening. No one had ever listened. I stayed on the floor for what felt like hours. The baby shifted restlessly, and I forced myself to take slow, steady breaths.

Mine! I stared at him confused, I saw the guy with him stare in shock at him and was looking at me weirdly. "You meant what you just said?" I heard the guy ask him again. "Excuse me, but I don't understand you, I am not a possession so you can't own me, man, please I am sorry for not watching my steps," I said moving away from him. Who the heck? Just see someone for the first time and just feel like owning the person.

"Nothing. This is mine." …

Filling and grabbing another glass of liquor from the table, he took a sip from it but without taking his eyes away from that person sitting on his bed who had not even mistakenly looked in his direction for once. "Actually I have bought something, so.." his eyes wandered all over her naked frame. "I am checking my possession on it," his words made her hug her knees more tightly because they crushed her soul cruelly. She was his possession now. He had bought her like a thing and now that was the ultimate truth of her life that he was her sole possessor. "So I won't be able to return home tonight as I need to do some more deep and thorough checks on my possession," he uttered, sniggering sile

"I live in your house; I don't know if that counts. Besides, how can that hurt you? I'm a free girl." "In that you are mine alone! From this moment on, I forbid you to be seen with this man or anyone else. Do you understand?" he asked in a domineering tone, and she opened her eyes wide in the face of this attack of possessiveness. To have been not to possess. You can have what you don't want. Possession is having and enjoying what you have. José Saramago.

“I don’t do childish labels but I’ll be your man.” As his lips connected with my neck I closed my eyes smiling. “My protector.” He leaned up moving his arm around me as he moved in front of me. “I will always protect you, Taylor. You belong to me.” I laughed. “You make me sound like some kind of possession.” Lucas shrugged, “you are, you’re mine.”

"You are my possesion. Whatever I want I get" His voice boomed with power and authority. I was confused. I had no qualities. I was not an American top model, I had no status or cliche I would even compare my self with with a distinct fashion designer because she wears designer clothes but he choosed to own me. Someone with baggages a person who has burdens, someone who had nothing concrete to give a man like him even though a man like him had everthing and yet he choose me.