Obsessive Surrender

by Bobbi Cole Meyer

  Ivan remembered his mother’s high-pitched screaming and cursing. He was confused because he thought then that people liked having babies, but the reality was that Claudia, according to what she was screaming out, was not happy and did not want this baby.

  He recalled hearing her yell, “Get this thing out of me. This is the worst mistake I ever made and I hate you, Richard!”

  And then finally, a thin wail had echoed down the hallway as one of the nurses came out to tell Richard, “You have another son, Mr. Littlefield. A healthy boy. Have you decided on a name?”

  “Yes. Alan. His name will be Alan Richard.”

  Ivan chuckled with that memory, thinking how at the time he was jealous because the baby’s name was better than his own. He had never liked his name of Ivan Cyrus. He knew he had been named that to honor his grandfather because he was the first-born grandson.

  Ivan sat up on the side of the bed, careful not to wake Andrea, angry that he could not shut off the valve that seemed to trigger all those memories. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, silently cursing before going to the bathroom to splash water on his face, then he stood studying his reflection in the mirror, remembering his ten-year-old self, so curious about his new brother and thinking maybe he could teach him things and take care of him.

  Damn. I screwed that up. But God, I was a kid! How could Claudia blame me for what I didn’t even understand? She was and still is, one cold, hard woman.

  But hell, she’s just following in the Myerson stone-cold footsteps, mimicking what she knows; how she was raised herself.

  Obviously she’s a warped product of too much excess and too little human affection, much the same as Alan and I were—are! Evidently Claudia doesn’t know how to give what she never received.

  Damning the memories, Ivan stood thinking about leaving Myerson Manor that day after his grandfather’s declaration. His expression hardened as he recalled having to listen to the heated argument between his parents that began the minute they entered the car and continued to escalate, Claudia raving about the injustice of Cyrus’ statement that a woman wasn’t as fit to run a corporation as a man.

  He remembered Richard docilely trying to calm her down while she cursed and took out her rage on him, accusing him of enjoying her discomfort and not being man enough to speak up for her.

  Ivan closed his eyes and leaned against the cool mirror.

  Dear God, why is all this shit coming back to me now?

  And then it dawned on him.

  My subconscious mind is trying to warn me because I’m falling into the same trap Dad did—letting a woman have control over me.

  How in the hell did the two of them even get together long enough to conceive another kid? Evidently they enjoyed torturing each other. Maybe I inherited the desire to mix pain and pleasure honestly from them, although I can’t picture Dad spanking Claudia. The other way around, yes.

  Ivan stared at himself in the mirror, shaking his head.

  If the real, convoluted Myerson/Littlefield history ever came to light, the rumor rags would have a field day.

  Ivan’s thoughts continued to go backward, tangling him in those tumultuous early days when he had started and ended each day caught in the confused muddle of his frustrated and isolated life.

  But to some degree, it changed after Alan was born.

  Ivan remembered how some of the pressure of being the center of attention had lessened then, shifting somewhat to his younger brother, especially after Alan got old enough to start rebelling, which he had with a vengeance.

  His brother Alan’s image materialized in Ivan’s mind, morphing from the innocence of youth when they had gotten along even though there was a ten-year difference between them, into the out-of-control, belligerent teen that had consistently wrecked what little peace there was in the Littlefield austere household.

  Scenes from the night Alan was returned home after he had run away the first time flashed in Ivan’s mind. He visualized thirteen-year-old Alan standing before them, after having been delivered by the police, sporting a black eye, sullen and stoically waiting for whatever punishment awaited him.

  Ivan winced as their mother, Claudia’s raking tone reverberated in his memory.

  “Alan, you came into the world a squalling brat of an infant, bound and determined to disrupt our lives and you have lived down to every expectation, becoming the epitome of a late-in-life mistake.”

  God, Claudia could be cruel.

  Ivan recalled watching his brother take that unrelenting, harsh tongue lashing from her without blinking an eye, never showing, as he never did, that he was wounded by her barbed rejection.

  But I knew he was. Dammit, I should have spoken up for him. And Dad should have spoken up, too. Why the hell didn’t either one of us ever man up to Claudia?

  Wish I had realized then what I know now, that Alan just wanted to be his own person and he had the guts to try and do it. I should have joined him then in the fight for his independence and my own!

  Alan had the right idea—run as far and as fast as you can and don’t look back.

  Ivan hadn’t thought about his brother in a long time, until lately. He suddenly wondered what Alan was doing, or even if he was still alive.

  God, how screwed up we all were—are! I wonder if Claudia ever gives a thought to Alan anymore, or does she just concentrate solely on adding to the Littlefield billions. How much money does one woman need?

  That errant thought brought to mind what he had read earlier about Myerson Oil’s latest take-over. The candid article was all about Claudia and how she was ‘devouring’ the competition, the analogy made of a boa constrictor squeezing the life out of small company preys, gutting them in order to restructure to her advantage.

  For a fact, Claudia was a force majeure.

  Though he had never asked her, thinking on it now, Ivan felt certain Claudia, through her many financial and political ties, had probably had a hand in his acquiring The Royale Flush and the adjoining property as easily as he had.

  She had been that anxious for him to reestablish himself in Vegas, away from Connecticut and the Myerson Oil ventures. Hell, it was a win-win situation for both of them. He got his piece of Vegas pie, snatched from under the nose of his competitor Carl Cothane, and Claudia got what she wanted—him out of her way.

  Ivan’s thoughts shifted to Cothane then. He recalled how furious the man had been when he’d realized he’d lost out on that prime, on-the-strip deal, which he had been so determined to obtain.

  It made Cothane my mortal enemy, especially after a lot of his people abandoned his casino in lieu of working at The Royale Flush when it opened.

  With a tired sigh, Ivan shrugged off the memories.

  God, I need sleep. I need uninterrupted, dreamless sleep.

  Taking deep breaths, he tried to relax and calm himself.

  “Keep it positive, Littlefield,” he ordered his frowning image. “You’ve paid Claudia back the money you borrowed and you are in final negotiations for that Wayfore prime piece of property, and even though Cothane is still a thorn in your flesh, you always come out on top of any confrontation with the man, so don’t sweat it. You owe no one anything. You are your own man, always have been and always will be, dammit! You are the one in control.”

  That resolution brought Ivan full circle to his present dilemma and the fear that in some small way, he might be on the verge of losing that control to a mere slip of a girl, his wife. And he couldn't help but wonder if that sexual weakness was inherent, a trait handed down from father to son.

  No! I will never relinquish my body and soul to Andrea, as Father did with Mother. Body yes, I’ll give her that, whenever and however she wants.

  But soul? Never.

  Chapter 10

  Black and White Memories

  The day after he resolved to curtail his escalating emotional ties with Andrea, Ivan sat in his downstairs office trying to concentrate on figures pertinent to the forthcoming property acquisition,
but failing. He couldn’t get Andrea out of his mind. He was late taking her lunch tray to her and her displeasure had taken him aback.

  “I was beginning to think you had forgotten me!” Andrea muttered when Ivan entered the indoctrination room.

  What the hell?

  Ivan removed the breakfast tray from the bedside table, set it on the floor and replaced it with the luncheon tray. Then he turned to her, his voice deathly cold. “You think so little of me that you believe I would just abandon you, Andrea? Leave my wife shut away in here hungry? That makes me sound like a callous son-of-a-bitch. Is that how you see me?”

  Even realizing she had angered him, Andrea felt oddly satisfied now that he had returned. He had been so distant when he left her that morning. Ivan had that strange, confusing affect on her, and she didn’t know why. What she did know was that having him near again made her feel secure and oddly complete.

  As his dynamic, gray-eyed glower raked over her, Andrea had a flashback to the first sensual lesson when Ivan had instructed her in the fine art of fellatio. She blushed furiously with the memory, her heart rate accelerating as she recalled having him fully in her mouth, knowing she was giving him that ultimate pleasure.

  Remembering it now made her hot and wet as she stood transfixed, trying to decipher Ivan’s inscrutable expression as he approached.

  I wish I could crack that hard veneer Ivan has built around his feelings and his heart. There is so much about him I don’t understand and I wonder if I ever will.

  Her mind drifted to the song she had been composing for him of raw emotions finally being released, and she wondered if she would find the courage to sing it to this enigmatic man who was now her husband. He had said he liked to hear her sing but that was before he had made her his captive bride. Now, she wasn’t sure what he wanted or needed.

  She only knew that she needed him like she needed air to breathe. Which was what the song she was composing said. But was Ivan ready to hear that?

  The only thing Andrea felt certain she did know about her new husband was that he has the power to muddle her thinking to the degree she floundered like a moron when he confronted her. He often made her feel unworldly and inadequate, which was why she felt compelled to look away as she muttered, “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. Look at me Andrea,” he demanded.

  She knew Ivan tolerated nothing less than unwavering eye contact, especially when he was displeased with her like he was now, so she gave him that, as she had given him any and everything he had demanded of her since their bizarre arranged marriage.

  She wanted to say that she hadn’t meant to upset him, that the accusation, born out of the frustration of not knowing why he was so distant to her that morning, had been thoughtless and she knew he would never just leave her unattended. And she knew, because he had already assured her, that if he weren’t present in the room, he would still be watching her from the monitor in his office downstairs. So that meant he never intended to leave her alone.

  But she remained mute because the one thing Andrea had figured out about Ivan was that he did not accept feeble rationalizations.

  Maintaining unwavering eye contact had become one of the hardest demands Ivan had made of her, because she automatically found herself wanting to look away anytime he pinned her with that stony gray-eyed glare.

  “You didn’t answer my question!” He gritted.

  Coming back from her mental reverie, Andrea asked, “What was the question?”

  “Is that how you see me?” He repeated stoically, but she noticed that his mouth quirked up at the corner a bit as though he found her scattered attention amusing.

  She shook her head as she answered, “No.”

  Again, there were words she wanted to add.

  Not callous, Ivan, but manipulative and demanding and yet somehow comforting. You are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, Ivan Littlefield.

  But those thoughts she kept to herself as Ivan came to stand before her, close enough that she breathed in his masculine scent and was immediately swamped by a wave of desire.

  It took concentrated effort on her part not to close her eyes and lose herself in the steamy memory of the night before when the delicious taste and musky smell of Ivan’s cock had permeated her senses; when they both had discovered she needed little instruction in the art of fellatio; that pleasing him that way had also pleased her.

  Andrea was unaware her breathing had changed and her green eyes had dilated and darkened, becoming half shuttered with that erotic memory, but Ivan saw the changes and smiled as he reached out to mold her body against his, kissing her hungrily, saying with his mouth inches from hers, “I bet I know what you are thinking about, my sexy pet.”

  How can he read me so well? Andrea wondered as the hard evidence of his arousal caused her clit to contract and swell with desire.

  She glanced at the punishment paddles and Ivan, so in tune with her desires now, knew she yearned for that delicious co-mingling of sexual arousal and sensual paddling he had incorporated into their learning sessions.

  He ran his hands possessively over her body, tweaking her tits before taking her mouth again in an almost brutal kiss. Putting her slightly back from him, he searched her face, reading her desire.

  “Damn, you want it all, don’t you? You’re ready for any and everything.”

  As Ivan’s avid gray gaze blazed a trail from her face to her heaving breasts and below, Andrea was amazed at the way he could so completely touch her, without even touching her.

  But she wanted his hands actually on her and if as he had again read her mind, Ivan reached out to cup and fondle her breasts, rolling each hardened nipple bud between his forefingers and thumbs, pinching lightly, soliciting her heated moans.

  As she closed her eyes and leaned into him, Ivan tangled his fingers in her hair, forcing her head back, her eyes open and locking them onto his as he declared, “You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who hungers for sex as much as I do, Andrea. I do believe I’ve awakened a sex fiend. It’s only me you long to satisfy, isn’t it, my voracious little wife? It had better be just me because you are mine and mine alone! Don’t ever forget it.”

  As if I could! Andrea silently protested, knowing she was now eons removed from her former, innocent pre-Ivan world. Now, Ivan Littlefield ruled her every emotion and for the first time in her life, Andrea understood and agreed with the phrase ‘yours, body and soul’, because that was how she felt about this overpowering, dynamic and complicated man who was her husband.

  I only wish I had the courage to admit that to Ivan. And I wish he felt that way about me. I wonder how he will take the song I’m writing for him? Will he think me silly and naive?

  Andrea’s eyes filled with tears of frustration she couldn’t keep from falling as she realized that even though they stood within inches of each other, they were miles apart in all the ways that counted.

  In all the heated, lustful moments they had shared, no words of love had been spoken and she doubted there ever would be because she held no illusion that just because she was in love with Ivan, he felt the same way about her.

  I am just his possession. But he is my life.

  Ivan frowned as he watched the tears roll down Andrea’s face. He stood quietly assessing this girl/woman he had coerced into marriage, feeling uncomfortable with the subtle shift he again felt occurring between them. Determined to keep his emotions in check, he reached out to swipe her tears away, wanting to ask why she was crying, but he didn’t because he suddenly didn’t want to know. That way lay too much emotional intimacy. So he changed the subject.

  “Tell me, Andrea, have you been writing a new song?”

  “I know you’ve been watching me, Ivan, so you know that I am,” she said as she swiped the tears away.

  “Have you finished it yet?”

  “No.”

  “I’d like to hear it when you do. You have a good voice, Andrea. And people have told me who heard you sing out on the streets, that
you write good songs. But I have only heard the one, that night we watched the movie. What was the name of that one?”

  “The Me I Want To Be,” she said.

  “It was good. I’m anxious to hear the new one.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. Have you lost the desire to sing? I remember your telling me that one day you'd like nothing more than to hear your songs on the radio. Has that desire left you?”

  “No. But I know that’s just a silly dream that can’t ever come true. I accept that. And when I finish the one I’ve been working on, I’ll sing it for you, if you—ah—promise not to laugh.”

  Ivan studied her pensive expression, wondering if he saw apprehension. Was she still afraid of him?

  “I’ll never laugh at you, Andrea. And don’t ever accept mediocrity. You are above that.”

  He reached for her and she shivered. Frowning, he pulled her against him again and ravished her mouth, unable to soften his need for her, mistaking her trembling for fear and wishing he could erase it from her mind.

  * * *

  Andrea had accepted and embraced her new, uncomplicated and hedonistically erotic life as Mrs. Ivan Littlefield, just as Ivan had predicted she would when he’d first secluded and seduced her within that secret indoctrination room.

  She had been there for almost a week and in that time, had come to terms not only with her husband’s sensual idiosyncrasies, but with the shocking depth of her own latent sexuality.

  Her world had become decisively slotted into two categories within her young, receptive mind. The one, before she became Ivan’s willing sex slave, Andrea now thought of as void and barren. And the all-encompassing and electrically charged life she now knew as Ivan’s submissive and receptive wife, the daily erotic one to which he had so skillfully indoctrinated her, was the one in which she now thrived and the one she craved.

  This ‘secluded time of sensual learning’, as Ivan had initially described it, had successfully woven Andrea into the fabric of his insatiable proclivity, awing her with self-discovery, as well.