What is this quintessence of dust?
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Posted:Oct 28, 2022 1:34 pm
Last Updated:Apr 25, 2024 12:18 pm 15220 Views
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What a piece of work is a man:
How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties.
In form and moving, how express and admirable.
In action how like an angel; in apprehension how like a god.
The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals.
And yet what is this quintessence of dust?
Hamlet (Act 2, Scene 2)
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Semi-Precious Stones - 5. The coming storm
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Posted:Jun 3, 2023 10:22 am
Last Updated:Apr 21, 2024 1:47 pm 7076 Views
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5. The coming storm
They sat in an electric silence, swallowed by shadows and the car’s interior darkness. She sensed the crackle of a nascent storm within the confined space: an atmospheric pressure existing only in the void between them. Outside the night was clear. She craved the breaking of the thunder that must surely erupt and consume them both: she yearned for him to make it so. The orange glow of streetlighting cast ungodly halos over the roofs of the empty buildings that shielded them from the street.
Knight swallowed deep the urges burning his throat and focussed instead on the car parked by the door from which they had made their hand-in-hand escape. He took a pen and paper from his pocket and noted the registration, but even in the darkness could sense the unfamiliar tensions in the ink marks created. She stared out of the side window with her head turned away so only the shimmering iridescent blackness of her hair addressed him, though in stolen glances he could see her pale face framed by dark locks reflected in the glass.
Finally, he broke the thickening silence.
“You know who they are, don’t you?” he said, though expected no answer.
She maintained her silent meditation.
“Why did you come here?” he said, without turning to face her. “What did you think you would find?”
They sat for a while in a white noise of silence.
“I have to go,” she said at last, her hand darting for the handle of the door as if primed on a trigger. Her voice was hushed and small, tender. She sounded more fragile, more broken. He had replayed that voice over and over in his head.
“Wait,” he said.
A shiver ran through her as his hand pressed lightly her arm. There was strength in his touch. She felt the power in his fingertips through the insulation of her jacket and her man drifted back for an instant to the safety of his arms. She glanced at his hand, his fingers on the cuff of her jacket. In the neon glow she could see how close he was to her skin. She fought the desire to move just a fraction so she might feel his warmth on her flesh. She held herself, resisted the impulse and turned to face him, but saw that he was peering towards the shadow black doorway.
“They’re coming out,” he said.
Two figures emerged from the building. Jade recognised them both but kept her silent counsel.
“You know who they are, don’t you?” he whispered.
She sank into her seat.
His fingers slipped around her wrist and squeezed her firmly, but with more tenderness than menace. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts swim in the pressure on her skin.
“Tell me what you know,” he said.
“I, I can’t,” she stammered through a sigh. Her body squirmed as his fingers tightened on the exposed flesh where her pulse began to quicken.
They slipped back into silence as the second car roared into life and pulled away, oblivious to their presence. All that mattered to her was his hold of her. She wished that it might never end.
“Tell me what you know,” he said again.
A soft moan escaped her parted lips. He saw that her eyes were closed. He could hear her breathing; see the steady rise and fall of her breasts in the dim light.
“Jade?” he said to break her from her spell but kept her wrist in his grasp.
A heartbeat passed, then two, then three.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Tell me,” he told her.
“I can’t,” she said at last.
She looked at the strong hand wrapped around her wrist. She reached out and brushed her fingers over the hardness of his knuckles but made no effort to excuse herself from his grip. She turned away again and stared out of the side window.
“I’m frightened,” she said at last.
“I can protect you.”
“No,” she said.
“I can protect you,” he repeated.
“Not from myself.”
His fingers loosened, she slid free of him and out the door.
He watched her disappear into the night, slinking into shadows where she could, aware there would be little use in following. Once she was gone, he closed his eyes and raised his hand to his face, savouring the remnant of her scent. When at last he was filled with her he touched the pocket of his coat and felt the object he had found on the upper floor of the warehouse before she had arrived. He knew the men had been there to find it.
Knight turned the key in the ignition. He had what he had come for. He was glad to have found much more.
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Semi-Precious Stones - 4. Lost in the presence
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Posted:Jun 1, 2023 6:08 am
Last Updated:Aug 14, 2023 3:25 pm 9116 Views
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4. Lost in the presence
The door was ajar, and she manoeuvred herself through the narrow space, plunging into a well of absolute darkness. Long-tired hinges groaned and squealed, echoing through the void, as she pushed closed the door to shut out the night behind her. Now there was nothing. The moon and stars could no longer guide her, nor the distant streetlights which had illuminated her way across the broken ground between road and warehouse. She heard rodents with eyes far sharper than her own scurrying, seeking unseen cover.
Jade shifted uncomfortably in the gloom, the crunch of broken glass and rubble beneath her feet. She zipped her jacket to her collar to ward off the sensation she was not alone and gave silent thanks for the unfamiliar jeans and running shoes. She pulled the flashlight from her pocket and pressed the button, an elongated triangle of pale yellow light darted out ahead of her. She swung the beam from left to right and back in slow relentless arcs in hope it might present her with a moment of inspiration. None came. The only sound was her breathing and the patter of tiny feet seeking refuge in distant corners. Specks floated, danced and pirouetted in the torchlight.
She took a pace forward hoping her courage would muster, but her prayers went unanswered. She shivered at the growing fear that eyes watched her from the darkness. She took a breath and forced herself onward. In the swinging arc of pale light, she made out a wall to her right which disappeared into the nothingness beyond her flashlight’s desperate reach. To her left was piled the rubbish and detritus of a time, long gone, when this space hummed and hissed with life. Ahead lay only blackness. She edged her way forward and sideways, making for the safe solidity of the wall. The sound of her footsteps echoed in the cavernous space, so too the heartbeat in her chest. She came within an arm’s length of the wall, and then she heard it; the sound of movement, hurried, heavy, imminent. Close. Impact.
From nowhere, she felt strong arms engulf her in the darkness. The torch flew from her grasp. Her only source of comfort struck the floor as momentum took them both hard into the wall.
She groaned as old dust and plaster filled her nostrils, the smell of mould and cobwebs; and waited for the pain. None came beyond the jagged shock of contact. She realised he had pulled up at the last, turning himself to absorb the impact and shield her from hurt. Despite the inky blackness all about her, she knew that it was him.
The was a silent, breath-held, moment. Motes of dust danced in the arc of light on the floor as it rocked back and forth in diminishing degrees until it came at last to rest, pointing into the emptiness ahead. The beam flickered and weakened, then faded to nought. Her heart banged heavy in her chest and she could hear the contrast of her own sharp gasps contrasted to his measured inhalations. The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek; she could smell his musk. He clasped her closely to him and she, despite herself, welcomed the embrace.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered, lips close to her ear.
She tried to wriggle free, but his grip was too strong, too tight, so she raked the heel of her trainers down his shin with what limited fury she could and rued the absence of sharp heels. He relented slightly, and his grip loosened a degree as surprise rocked him back before he clamped himself around her once again and spat a pained insult across her cheek. She felt dizzy. Her brain shuddered in a claustrophobic swirl; euphoria surged through her veins.
Jade knew he sensed her helplessness as she weakened and grew limp. His arms went loose around her, and she began to breathe once more, deep and dust-filled gasps. She groaned as he shoved her forward and pinned her hard to the wall, a powerful forearm across her shoulder blades, the unforgiving dampness of the surface stark in contrast to the warm safety of his frame. Her cheek pressed hard against the plaster.
“What are you doing here?” he said again.
Jade said nothing and tried to turn her face away, only to feel strong fingers grip her lower jaw, forcing her head back towards him. Her body shivered in a flash of fleeting memory, but there was comfort in the contact of his flesh on hers.
“I asked you a question,” he snapped. Chemical reactions fired throughout her body.
He pressed his frame in closer, pinning her hard against the wall. She sensed his power and her weakness. A tremor shook her body into his. She felt herself squirm and tremble, but it only brought him closer.
“Answer me,” he said, fingers tightening on her jaw.
“I’m here to help my friend,” she said at last, through gritted teeth and the pain of his fingers. “What about you?”
There was a silent moment and the vice of fingers on his skin jaw eased minutely.
“Your friend is dead,” he said. “I’m here to find out why.”
The starkness of his words sucked the breath from her lungs, and she, at last, began to sob. Her only comfort came from him. The moment seemed to last an age.
“Shh,” he said in a whisper. Jade felt a tension ripple through him; it emphasised her frailty.
Roughly he forced her back along the wall, until they reached a corner and pressed himself against her.
“Quiet,” he snarled and clamped his hand hard over her mouth, but her sobs had already faded. All that mattered was the contact of their bodies. He pulled her tightly into his chest, his face at the side of hers. She felt the brush of stubble graze her cheek; warm, moist breath on her skin.
“Shh,” he whispered to her ear. “Someone’s coming.”
Fear sought to find some purchase, but there was only safety in his arms. A tremor raced along her spine and lodged deep within her pelvis, but she sensed calm and tension ripple through him, a spring ready to unleash, prepared, poised, wating for its moment. She felt a surge of life awaken in his groin. Her fear faded she felt the growing pressure against her buttocks. She closed her eyes in the darkness as she felt her body’s betrayal and lost herself in the knowledge of his desire. Time passed; minutes melted. She grew limp in his arms.
Then finally she heard the sound of footsteps, coarse voices at the warehouse door.
“Keep quiet and don’t move,” he hissed beneath the slow familiar creak of hinges.
She nodded her compliance into his hand and braced herself deeper into his chest, her heart pumped rich cocktails of emotions through her body and her brain. She sensed herself grow smaller in his grasp: a fledgling bird in the palm of his hand. The voices were inside now, but their words meant nothing, were lost on her. His presence swelled around her like a cloak. She slipped into its folds to hide. She felt that she might lose herself forever.
Jade felt the rhythms of his breathing, slow and controlled, as his chest rose and fell against her shoulder blades, she slipped subconsciously into a perfect union of silent inhalation, exhalation. His body quivered with the readiness of a drawn bowstring, prepared for release should their hiding place be revealed. She sensed the tension at his core, felt it reverberating through her. Felt his hardness against her. Her knees trembled and grew weak until she was no longer sure if it was him or her holding her up. The heat of him against her soaked through her clothing like rain and touched her skin in the darkness, soothing and welcome, and she moved her hips to push herself against him.
They stood together, tightly bound, indistinguishable. She lost all sense of time and place, intoxicated by his being and his want. She wished she could remain there; exist forever with the safety of his arms. Time no longer mattered, seconds became hours, eternity compressed into a moment.
He released her slowly from the spell as his fingers eased around her mouth. The footsteps now seemed distant, the voices muffled at the far end of the warehouse, and then there was nothing but a trace of them as their cause disappeared through some distant doorway.
“They’re going upstairs,” he said in little more than a whisper.
His voice filled her head like a wave breaking on the shore. Irresistible, it filled her without end, overwhelming all before it. She felt soaked by it. A mournful moan escaped her as his fingers loosened further and slid across her skin. She felt the ripple of a shiver ripple as he drew the tips across her lips. The arm which had held her so tightly eased and she could breathe again, but she remained pressed into him, her body seeking to prolong the moment, the sensation and the knowing; unwilling for the contact to be broken, aching at the knowledge it must end.
“We need to get out of here,” he said, releasing her from his grasp.
“What?” The world about them had been lost. All she knew was darkness and his presence.
“We need to get out of here, before they come back down.”
She nodded in the void and memory made its slow return. All fear was gone, washed away by his intimate proximity. Only then, as he released her, did a sense of panic rise. She turned into him and put her head against his chest. Her body trembled. His scent made her dizzy.
She closed her eyes and without thought slipped her arms around him. She knew she would be his should he so choose it.
“Now.” he said, “It’s time to go.”
He slipped free from her embrace and turned to leave; she felt suddenly cold and utterly alone. As if sensing her despair, he took her hand in his and led her to the open door and out into the night.
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Semi-Precious Stones - 3. With darkness soon to fall
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Posted:May 30, 2023 1:13 pm
Last Updated:Jun 4, 2023 12:54 pm 8115 Views
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3. With darkness soon to fall
Knight sat in the open-plan office on the third floor of the police station, high above the petty squabbles and alcohol-fuelled stupidity of the front desk and the holding cells.
The sun was slipping in the sky and the shadows of those already heading home from work grew ever longer. Untouched in almost an hour, a chipped mug - half-filled with cold coffee - nestled amid the mayhem laid out before him.
On his desk were spread the initial reports, crime scene photographs and preliminary findings that had begun to amass immediately after the discovery of Amber’s body eight hours earlier.
The coroner had ruled death by strangulation. The pattern of bruising indicated Amber had been face to face with her killer as he squeezed the life from her, drinking in her fear as she fought to claim her final breaths, revelling in the terror in her eyes as she recognised her fate.
There had been no DNA beneath her manicured fingernails so either she had failed to fight back or been restrained from doing so. Fresh marks around her wrists pointed to the latter, but there were far older marks there too and those on her body had been formed days, weeks, even months before she drew her final, painful breath.
The coroner estimated her time of death around midnight the night before her body was discovered – give or take an hour or so. Lividity – the way in which the blood had begun to settle in her body once her heart had lost the ability to pump that vital fluid through her – indicated she had most likely been in sitting when she died. There was no doubt that her body had been moved in the hours after death.
Knight’s mind flicked between the images of the naked woman lying dead in the baked dirt and the memory of her imprinted on his brain, and each time he did his mind wandered back to the woman who had been very much alive, watching from a distance. He wondered whether her body too bore the same marks; whether she too had been whipped and scarred, bound, handcuffed and controlled.
He knew that she did.
And he knew he wanted to see the marks on her flesh, run his fingertips over them, his tongue, his lips; wanted to stand over her with whip in hand and be the one to score her perfect porcelain skin.
What Detective Inspector Jack Knight wanted, he got.
For now, he wanted to catch a killer: a killer who stole the life of a beautiful young woman and dumped her on wasteland like trash, surrounded by abandoned buildings and untamed weeds.
No matter what she did in life, she deserved more in death than to be tossed aside like garbage.
He looked again at the photographs of the scene. Those empty shells troubled him. Why, he asked himself, would anyone dump a body on open ground where discovery was as inevitable as daybreak when there were a dozen disused and derelict buildings close at hand from where she might never be recovered.
Knight took one more look at a picture of the dead girl then pulled on his jacket and headed for the stairs. He reminded himself to test the batteries in the torch he kept in the glove compartment of his car. Soon darkness would begin to fall.
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Semi-Precious Stones - 2. A sense of perspective
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Posted:Apr 24, 2023 2:11 pm
Last Updated:Apr 21, 2024 1:52 pm 9941 Views
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2. A sense of perspective
Jade placed the silver tray on the side-table and smoothed a non-existent crease from her blouse. She took a deep breath and knocked firmly on the ancient oak door that marked the threshold of his lair. The corridor was dark, silent save the ticking of a distant clock; portraits of men whose identities remained a mystery stared down on her with unblinking eyes.
When the summons came, she took another breath and cleared her mind of the images that had plagued her since her return to the house and the warning he had summoned her.
He was stationed as he always was on such occasions, behind the large mahogany desk on the far side of the room, positioned directly opposite the door so all those entering fell immediately under his gaze and were robbed of any momentary hiding place in which they might prepare their thoughts.
His eyes fixed on hers as she entered, daring her to look away as she made her way across the thick, plush carpet towards him. The tight smile etched at the corners of his mouth appeared at first welcoming, but Jade recognised the hint of a menace masked behind those thin lips. She swallowed her fear in hope of masking it from him and fought the tremors building in her fingers and the tell-tale rattle of porcelain on silver.
She placed the tray on the desk in front of him, coaxing up the smile of a waitress delivering dinner to a restaurant’s best customer and turned back towards the door. For a few short seconds the knots in her shoulders and in the pit of her stomach eased as each step took her closer to the cool safety of the corridor and the regulated monotony of the ticking clock. The only sound was the low crackle of logs in the grate. Her fingers grasped the handle, worn smooth by a thousand hands across the decades, and the door swung open on silent hinges until finally, inevitably, he said her name. His voice was calm. A bead of cold sweat trickled down her spine beneath the white cotton blouse which had, like everything she wore, been chosen for her.
“Close the door please, Jade,” he said, as if in afterthought.
Her knuckles whitened on the handle as the thought of running, of escape, of finding that policeman, flashed momentarily across her subconscious, but the weight of defeat turned her legs to lead. She eased the heavy oak shut until she felt the latch take hold in the mechanism.
Slowly, she turned to face him with head bowed and hands clasped together in front of her as when summoned before the headmistress half a lifetime ago. She stood in silence, eyes to the floor, the burden of his gaze heavy on her shoulders.
“Where have you been, Jade?” he said at last. “I called for tea 15 minutes ago.”
She dared not raise her head and felt a surge of panic at the sight of the wasteland’s dirt and dust on her polished boots.
“I called for you 15 minutes ago,” the minor alteration cut her like a blade.
“I’m sorry, Mr Stone,” she mumbled, seeking sanctuary in the kaleidoscope patterns of the oriental weave that stretched from wall to wall.
“Where have you been, Jade?” he said again, a rising displeasure dripping from his words.
“I,” she paused, contemplating the stupidity of a lie. “I went out, Sir.”
“Out?” he said in mock surprise as she lifted her head. “Now why might you wish to go out?”
“I went for a walk, Sir,” were the only words she could muster.
He nodded and smiled that smile: that smile she hated, that smile she feared.
His index fingers formed a steeple and he pressed them to his lips in thoughtful contemplation. His eyes sliced through her and she knew her secret was no more. Her heart pounded heavy in her chest; blood roared in her ears like a jet engine. He nodded, if only to himself, and beckoned her towards him, away from the door.
She stepped forward until she was standing in front of his desk, but she knew that that would not be enough. The silver tray with steaming teapot, cup and milk jug remained untouched as she had left it. She started as if to speak but recognised the disappointment and surprise in his eyes and so fell silent before offering a word. Logs crackled and hissed under all-consuming flames. A minute movement of his head summoned her around the desk and he swivelled his chair to face her as she reached her place beside him.
Slowly, heavily, he leaned back in his seat and his steely gaze measured her from toe to temple. Wordlessly, she lowered herself to her knees with the practised poise of a ballerina repeating her positions. Frozen moments passed. Jade allowed her eyes to close until she felt the warmth of his hand as he brushed a stray hair from her face. A chill raced down her spine from contact.
“You went for a walk?” he said at last. “That’s good Jade; sometimes we all need a breath of air.”
“Yes sir,” she nodded.
“That’s good,” he said again, as if he had not heard her. “Sometimes we all need to regain our sense of perspective.”
Jade forced a grateful smile and lowered her head in defeat.
He stroked her cheek and eased the comb of his fingers through her silken hair. She felt the acid sting of nausea rise from her stomach.
“Have you regained your perspective, Jade?”
She stared at the patterns beneath his feet, at the brilliant shine on his Italian leather shoes, but said nothing. The thought of the dirt on her own boots stabbed her conscience.
She felt his fingers tighten in her hair for an immeasurable moment before the searing pain tore through her brain as he jerked her head backwards.
“Have you regained your perspective, Jade,” he repeated; his voice cold and calm: the favoured diner querying the limitations of the wine list.
She swallowed her scream. It took away the taste of vomit.
“Yes Sir,” she said, her voice cracking.
He held her for a heartbeat then let her hair fall free as if it had never been less. Only the burning fury of her scalp dismissed the lie. Tears filled her eyes. She knew he relished her anguish and her fury; she recognised the swelling presence in his trousers.
His fingers slipped back into an easy, tender combing motion and the fingertips of his free hand gave her cheek a gentle caress: a parent offering forgiveness to a wayward now remorseful .
“That’s good Jade. That’s good.”
Eventually he smiled and offered her the merest hint of a nod, indicating that she should begin. Jade acquiesced without resistance. She reached out her hand, brushing her palm across the material sheltering his growing cock. She felt its heat as it came to life and stiffened further. She forced herself to hold his gaze as she began to gently slide her hand over him, attempting to reclaim some faint sense of control as his body reacted to her touch.
She moved slowly, knowing this to be the only power she could claim, and savoured her momentary advantage. His cock twitched further into life in his trousers as hot blood surged through his body and he slipped into a silent reverie. Slowly, as slowly as she dared, Jade slid her hand up over him until her fingers deftly found his zipper. She could sense his cock swelling further with each meticulous movement of her hand. She paused until his half-drawn lids flickered opened and his attention focussed on the woman on her knees before him. He exhaled long and deep as she eased the fastener down and as the slow groan escaped his throat the memory of Amber’s lifeless body flashed across Jade’s mind. She pushed the thought away and slipped her hand inside his trousers to where his cock had grown hard and hot awaiting the touch of her flesh. It jerked involuntarily to meet her as if seeking the embrace of her fingers as she closed her grip around its warmth. That hateful, fearful smile creased his lips as Jade pulled his swollen cock free of through the window of his trousers.
She closed her fingers around his stiffening shaft and gripped it tightly, stroking him slowly until his erection was complete. Only then, when his cock stood proud and angry, the essence of his power over her; the symbol of his dominance and control, did she lean in close, her eyes defiant in his gaze, and take him deep into her mouth.
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Semi-Precious Stones - 1. The Broken Doll
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Posted:Apr 24, 2023 2:10 pm
Last Updated:Apr 21, 2024 1:52 pm 9639 Views
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This is a story I started writing a few years ago. I have been asked to repost it, so here is some of it.
1. The broken doll
She lay face down in the dirt like some forgotten doll discarded by a spoilt . A plaything, a toy, once treasured, once loved and adored, now tossed aside, broken and abandoned, her owner having found other interests to occupy their mind. The morning sun danced across her porcelain skin. The ivory whiteness of her naked flesh emphasised the reddened abrasions on her wrists and ankles. Weal marks criss-crossed her back and buttocks in varying degrees of healing. Her long ebony hair, glistening in the brightness of a new day, spilled across her shoulder and onto the rough, untended ground.
Knight was glad she lay face down. In such small mercies he found some solace. He had no wish to see her like this. There was no desire to see her face; her breasts; the smoothness he knew would be there. He knew she would be beautiful, knew that at another time, in another place, he would have found her irresistible: a woman who would turn men’s heads, turn their thoughts; a woman who would have turned his head. He knew he would have wanted her. But not like this. Not here, not now.
He nodded to the figures in forensic suits sharing hushed conversations at the limit of the blue and white police tape cordon flapping in the light breeze. They came forward with body bag and stretcher. Knight turned away to save himself the agony of witnessing her rolled, manipulated and zipped away. Then he saw the woman watching. Even from this distance he could tell she was no random spectator. The discovery of a body was always cause for groups to gather, gawkers come to watch and whisper, but here, in the middle of a disused industrial estate, there could be no accidental passer-by breaking from their routine to watch the police at work.
He picked his way slowly across the empty space between them, his eyes a searchlight on the floor, seeking clues and evidence, but all the while flicking imperceptibly in her direction to ensure she remained at her watching post. He knew that she knew his pretence was little more than pantomime, a means of getting close enough to make contact, but they both played out the game until there was no more than feet between them. Knight finally looked up and met her gaze with the weary smile of a man well versed in the breaking of bad news.
He found himself surprised by how tall she stood. She wore a long black coat which fell below the knee, hiding the top of the heeled boots which brought her only slightly short of his six-foot-two frame. Despite her height and the heavy coat, its collar turned up around the side of her face, she seemed delicate and fragile, like she might fracture without warning - perhaps without reason. Her skin was pale; she wore a dark red lipstick. Her hair, though tucked inside the coat, was coal-diamond black and shimmered in the sunlight. Sadness seeped from within her and cast her in its shadow but could not hide the beauty of her heart-shaped face.
“Her name is Amber,” she said without encouragement, but in tones that felt as if the words had been torn from her against her will.
“Can you tell me Amber’s surname?” Knight asked.
“I only knew her as Amber.”
“And you? What’s your name, Miss…?” He left the question hang in the cool air between them.
She began to speak but stopped herself. Knight waited, knowing the power of silence.
“Jade,” she said at last. “My name is Jade.”
“Jade? Do you have a surname Jade?”
“My name is Jade,” she said definitively.
“What can you tell me about Amber, Jade?”
“She was my friend.”
A stray tear rolled down her cheek.
“Can you tell me what happened here,” said Knight, desperate to maintain the dialogue.
She shook her head with a minimum of movement.
“I have to go,” she said at last.
“I’ll need to speak to you again,” said Knight, making no effort to stop her as she turned to walk away.
“I know,” she said.
Knight watched her glide back onto the pavement that sprouted weeds, rough grasses and broken glass alongside a road that was never used. He wondered how she had got here. He had stationed uniformed officers around the site when they first arrived, but none had reported any vehicles. There had been no announcement of her arrival since, by car or on foot.
She grew ever smaller as the distance between them increased, not once turning back, and he wondered whether he would be close to her again. Finally, she turned a corner and disappeared behind another building left to rot and fester as boom became bust.
He stared into the void she had left behind for a minute, perhaps two, before eventually turning back to see her friend, Amber, now sheathed in black plastic, carried towards the waiting vehicle by men who would never know her name.
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Some things...
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Posted:Apr 5, 2023 11:33 am
Last Updated:Apr 10, 2024 12:38 pm 11635 Views
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Some things are just too perfect not to share....
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A Maiden's Tale (Part Six)
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Posted:Mar 27, 2023 2:12 pm
Last Updated:Jul 12, 2023 2:01 am 12751 Views
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Hilde stared at the shifting outline of his cock as he loosened the cords of his simple belt and began to ease his trousers down over his hips. Fear and nervousness rippled through the warm afterglow of her orgasm, sending another surge of wetness to her aching cunt. He lowered his waistband further and Hilde gasped as his hard cock leapt free from of its leather cage. The sight of him and the knowledge of what must surely follow made her long for him to have her.
Slowly, she managed to tear her gaze from his swollen, upright shaft and look up to meet his eyes. She tried to read his mind, to judge his intent, but all she saw was the reflection of her own lustful desire.
Without breaking eye contact, he used his foot to push the stool to one side and then lowered himself to his knees between her thighs. Her body trembled and her pussy squirmed with unbridled want. Naked, bound, spread wide and utterly exposed, Hilde had never felt so vulnerable nor so utterly aroused. Her captor took his heavy cock in his hand and stroked his hard tip against the tender, wet folds of her outer lips, which parted in sweet welcome. She moaned at the contact, trying to pull him into her but he resisted her writhing hips and wanton hunger.
“Who do you serve, girl?” he said, hot fire raging in his cold blue eyes.
He pressed his solid head onto her burning, bloated clit and she fought for breaths that would not come.
“You, my Lord,” she whimpered. “You, and only you.”
He worked his head in slow, deliberate circles around her open cunt. Her juices ran hot and slick between the cheeks of her arse to pool on the bench and drip waisted to the floor. Her need for him was all-consuming.
“You, Lord, you. I serve you.,” she screamed in futile, helpless rage.
He slowly slid his cock inside her, an inch then two; her desperate cunt accepting gladly before he withdrew and then gave her the same again. Hilde’s ragged, breathless panting rose and fell with every measured stroke. He leaned in close and kissed her, hard on the mouth. His tongue flicked back and forth across her teeth and squirmed around her own as each slow, short thrust fuelled the burning heat between her legs. She groaned and gasped for breath as he slipped his mouth from hers and found her neck with kisses, licks and bites.
“You belong to me now, girl,” he whispered, and her body melted at his words.
Once again, the waves began to build and, as he thrust his cock inside, came crashing as her body writhed in a wild and senseless joy. Her fucked her harder as she climaxed and as she felt the fullness of him fill her, she came again before the first was passed. Eyes wide and blind, mouth gaping, deaf to the sounds of her own ecstatic moans, her body shook and trembled. Rough hands groped her wildly heaving breasts, fingers pinched and plucked her nipples as he rocked and fucked her with his unforgiving cock. She fought for breath as he kissed her deep and hard at the pinnacle of her climax, filling mouth and pussy as the torrent of her orgasm flowed.
She felt the first spasms of his shaft inside her and knew that he was close. She clenched her throbbing pussy tight around his cock and wrapped her legs about his as his thrusts grew deeper, more demanding. Hilde heard herself cry out as felt first the first jet of his hot, thick cum explode inside her pussy. Again and again he thrust deeper and she felt herself grow full as his juices were unleashed in endless spurts.
Eventually he eased himself out and stood over her, his softening cock glistening wet with the reward of their shared orgasms. Her nakedness felt warm and safe under the pleasure of his gaze.
“I belong to you, my Lord,” she said.
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A Maiden's Tale (Part Five)
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Posted:Mar 24, 2023 3:22 am
Last Updated:May 11, 2024 11:5 am 12407 Views
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Minutes, moments, seconds passed, how long she could not say. She felt the waves of pleasure start to subside; could hear her own exhausted breathing as her head began to clear. She opened her eyes and looked at him, his jawline, the greying stubble of a beard not two days old, the hint of cruel pleasure at the corners of his smile and those cool blue eyes that pierced her flesh and saw her as she was.
“Who…Who are you, Lord?” she stammered, between awkward, ragged breaths.
He said nothing but leaned in close and slid his palms up over the tops of her thighs, around her hips and took hold of the cheeks of her arse, one in each of those strong hands. The scent of him filled her nostrils and she softly moaned. Without warning, he yanked her forward, sending a flash of pain across her pinned and aching shoulders and forcing her legs wider. She mewled and whimpered as another surge of juices filled her swollen, gaping cunt. He released her from his grip but she remained where he had placed her, balanced on the edge of the bench. He reached out his left hand and stroked her face, brushing sweat-soaked hair from her eyes. He smiled again, and then she threw her head back in a gasp as he plunged his fingers deep inside her throbbing, yearning sex.
He worked her slowly to begin, easing fingers to a tender rhythm within her velvet slickness. Her knees began to shake as she arched her back, pushing out her perfect tits to him, and tried to bring him deeper.
“The village wives are right to fear you,” he said, thrusting his fingers a little harder in her cunt.
“Sire,” she said and tried to say more, but the air was sucked from her lungs as his thumb found her clit and a shockwave rippled through her body.
Again, he worked her slowly. His thumb caressing her, rolling over and around the button of her sex, flicking across her hood while his fingers explored and probed her depths. She tried to meet his gaze, but each time she glimpsed the pleasure of control in his eyes it brought her closer to her climax and she had to look away. She groaned and moaned and whimpered through bitten lips as he teased her hungry, dripping cunt. He pumped her pussy harder and made her cry and beg for more.
“What’s your name, girl?” he said at last, as she was about to succumb once more.
“Hilde, my Lord,” she said in panting words. Her body began to shake. “My name..my name is Hildred…but people call me Hilde.”
His fingers worked her harder, thrusting deep and rough, her clit pulsating under the coarseness of his thumb. He leaned in close and sucked then bit her nipple, and she cried out as she came.
He kissed her tits and moved slowly to her neck as his probing fingers slowed to ease her from her climax.
Twice more he brought her to her peak and then beyond with fingers, tongue and mouth. Her mind was lost, her body floating, her only thoughts of him.
“You belong to me now, Hilde,” he whispered, warm breath against her ear.
Hilde murmured her assent as his lips found hers and he kissed her hard and deep. She lost herself for moment and when her eyes flickered open he was standing over her, his cock swollen hard inside his trousers.
“I belong to you, Lord,” she said, as he untied the leather cord around his waist. “I belong to you.”
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