Enjoy your stay.

Ta-DA!

Fri, 12 Aug 2005 19:42:31 GMT

Title - Heat
Type - Drabble
Word Count – 655
Content – Lesbianism and light S&M

Cross posted to the lovely community Artrotica, so I'm sorry if you're getting this twice.

No, I don't own publix, I just shop there *grin*

She is uncomfortable.

Sweat trickles down her neck, absorbed instantly by the stiff fabric and lace. Going to the store in this fashion is both uncomfortable in the physical sense, as well as the emotional one. The layers of black crinoline, the high collar brushing against her chin, and the corset cinched tight enough to ache, are not exactly suited to the humdrum aisles of Publix. It makes it hard to blend in.

But, she supposes, that was rather the point.

A pint of milk, an apple, a bag of votive candles. That last makes her arms erupt into gooseflesh. Three girls flounce in bikini tops and cutoff jeans near the automatic sliding doors. Their tanned skin and bleached hair a startling contrast to the pale woman in black. Conversation among the girls sputters out as they watch the figure approach. The hundred degree Florida sunshine was never meant for Victorian fashion. Retaining her composure, she strides into the frigid building. Her sweat instantly congealing to a cool film on her skin. Soft rock wafts through the air, meeting with the whispering rustle of her skirts.

The reactions are as varied as the produce she picks through with slender fingers, searching for the perfect apple. Some stare frankly, some, just as pointedly, ignore her. Face resolutely proud, the perfect apple found, she resumes her appointed course.

Perhaps she shall be made to eat it. Relishing the crisp fruit with tiny demure bites as other firmer things bite into her in turn. The symmetry is pleasing. Just as likely, she shall slice it with sharp sharp knives, and carefully deposit the pieces between waiting teeth. Approaching that lipsticked mouth as tremulously, and as bravely, as one would approach a lion. Even simpler, perhaps she shall be made to sit and watch as sharp lacquered nails peel off the skin revealing nothing but waiting sweetness. The musings make her moisten, down there.

Milk is easy to select, as the expiration date matters little. Its purpose is no mystery, as the cool liquid is excellent for the exquisite pleasurable pain gifted to her skin. It soothes her. It also heightens her anticipation. The very fact that she has been told to get this precious whiteness, means that she will need it. Of course, there is always the possibility that it is for a more mundane purpose. Milk in cereal. Milk in tea. Milk for dipping cookies, not smarting skin. But, she can always hope.

Almost dropping the candles twice, she finally manages to get them into the wire basket nestled into the crook of her arm. People are staring. Calm. The excitement is almost too much to bear. She wants to be taken, here, amidst the bags of detergent and potpourri. Fervently she wishes for the confidant firm hands of her love to wrap around her waist and loosen the bindings of her corset. To be kissed lovingly on the neck, cherry red lip prints covering her pale skin. Patience, she reminds herself. Anticipation only enhances the pleasure.

Eyes alight with curiosity ring up her purchases one by one, and fingernails plastered with sparkling blue taps in her total. Folded money exchanges hands, and beige plastic opens to hold her wonders. An elderly woman in the next line crosses herself.

She smiles in return. She knows better. It is not fear or hatred that makes her the center of the store. It is not pity that moves a few faces to frown in her direction as she walks. It is not even contempt when a teenage boy slouching by the glass doors gestures at her with a muttered obscenity.

It is envy.

The thought makes her smile, even as the motion sensors click into action and the hot breath of summer slams into her cheek.

She is uncomfortable.

The heat, the sweat, the scratchy fabric, the hungry stares. She is uncomfortable, and she has never loved discomfort so much.

Could it be? Something that has nothing to do with laura? I think it is.

Wed, 06 Jul 2005 19:24:40 GMT

A short drabble. Rated somewhere between pg-13 and r. Leaning more towards pg-13, but hey. Be your own judge. And no, this isn't laura, nor does it have anything to do with her. Told you this journal would be more than just for her :)

A girl dances in the rain.

The gentle swell of her thighs undulate as she moves, and the grass is wet and slick under her bare feet. It is a summer rain. Full of warm breezes. Rumbling skies. Her brown hair moves in sodden ropes against her bare back, making small slapping sounds as it hits the skin. Her form whirls in ever widening circles. Delicate fingers reach towards the sky, beckoning the rain to fall.

And it does. It does.

Huge fat droplets of the sweetest water pelt down upon the girl. Her rich laughter is lost in the crash of lightning. Wind caresses around her hips, licking her breasts like a lover. Flesh suddenly peppered with goosebumps, she rubs her arms and slows her dance. Mimicking the wind with deft hands, she teases her nipples until they tingle. The feeling reminds her of the harsh bursts of electricity occasionally sparking to the ground. Wet in many places, the enthusiasm of her movements increase. Tossing her head back, she closes her eyes and lets the rain course down her throat. Luxuriating in the drip-drip of butterfly kisses against her eyelids. A moan of pleasure escapes her lips to mingle with the echoing reply from the clouds above. The taste of ozone thick on her tongue, she spreads her hands wide and flings her body into the dance. Wild. Free.

A girl dances in the rain and makes love to the world.

Chapter 5, day 1, Rated PG-13.. Yes...i said PG-13. Wouldn't even be that 'cept she's sore.

Wed, 25 May 2005 19:23:03 GMT

My heart beats in my ears, but there is no answering echo. A dream. It was only…..a dream. Dim grey boxes, and faceted glass fade from my mind, and I blink the sleep from my eyes. Shifting slightly, I winced as my body let me know its displeasure at the previous evening’s debauchery. Swallowing hard, my throat seemed as raw as….other places.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re up.” Craven’s face split into a wide grin as he bounced on the edge of the mattress.

“Good morning.” I smiled in return, astonished at the weak treble in my voice.

His smile wilted slightly around the edges at the rough sound “Well, let’s get you clean.” Goosebumps peppered my flesh as he drew the sheet down to my ankles. Dried flakes of blood peppered my skin, and I felt grimy with dried sweat and seed.

“Yes. Clean.” I grit my teeth and turned over. The completion of this simple act seemed herculean, but after a few teeth-clenched moments, I succeeded, vowing to all the heavens to sleep later, in order to properly celebrate my victory.

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing velvety hair over hardened muscle, and dipped a sponge into the washing basin on the far wall. Clenching his fist, he squeezed the pitted circle clean. My brother was silent as he swabbed my shoulder, neck, the hollow underneath my breasts, and around my waist. I could see his jaw clench tightly at the sight of me. I must look awful. He rinsed out the wet mass, and resumed his tender cleaning. I inhaled sharply at the rough fuzz gently sweeping across my bruised thighs, and he hesitated, probably afraid of hurting me further. “No, it’s alright. It’s just a little sore.” I gave an encouraging smile. I liked to be pampered by him on occasion, and his sweet hands caring for me were better medicine than any pill.

“Do you think you can sit up?” His voice soft, and loving.

I nodded, attempting to make my voice jovial “Yes. It’s not bad.” Smooth palms cupped around my back, and he helped me to sit upright. Swinging my arms over the side, I hoisted myself to my feet, one hand on his firm shoulder. My knees ached in throbbing waves, coursing up my thighs to meet the smarting between my legs.

“Careful now, not too quick.” He slipped his hand around my back, and pressed me into his side. Step by step, we reached the basin, and I bent my head over, dipping my matted locks into the water. With a feather light touch, he combed through my hair until it swam clean and untangled through the petal pink liquid.

I stood erect and he swept cloth around me, drying my hair with quick pats. Turning to meet his fingers, I leaned into him, nuzzling my face into the curve of his shoulder. Hot tears leaked from my eyes, staining the grey fabric dark. “I…I’m sorry…I….”

Enveloping me in his arms, he stroked down my back and arms, caressing my cheek with his fingers. “Shhh. Shh…It’s alright now. I love you, and you did well. I’m proud of you, Laura.” I nodded against the dream soft fabric, and let him guide me back to the mattress. A saucer of warm milk and a slice of bread waited for me on the bedside table. Craven left my side, fished for a moment in the dresser, and gestured to lift my arms above my head as he slipped my dressing gown over my trembling form. My tears had ceased, for the moment, and I was simply tired. Handing me breakfast, I was surprised to find my stomach loudly rumbling assent. The happy sound of my brother’s teasing laughter made me chuckle, even as I ate with relish.

“Better?” his eyes glittered with chuckles.

“Yes. Thank you.” I leaned back contentedly. “Did the chemistry book come?” I inquired. The nurses had promised it to me over a week ago, and I was eager to read it. Father never approved of my interest in my education, but my mind thirsted for knowledge. Stimulation. Something to distract me from the endless monotony of days between these four pale walls. I knew Craven was baffled by my hunger, but he indulged my fascinations, and laughed at the fickleness of my fervor. One month math, another French literature, history, architecture, physics, and now, chemistry. I drifted from dreaming of simultaneous equations, to arguing long and hard over the causes for the fall of the Roman empire. This week, I raved about Marie Curie, and her discoveries as absolute proof that femalekind could do wondrous things. I wished to do wondrous things. Craven would nodded solemnly at my praise, and encourage my efforts. I would not let our minds go soft in this place. It would be too easy to fall into complacency and forget that life lay behind the walls of Briarwood.

He laughed, and nodded. “Yes. They brought it with breakfast. I wondered how long you’d last before asking me.” Handing me a thick leather bound tome. Breathing the musk of it, I grinned, and opened it to the first page.

Shaking his head and smiling, he took up his own book and sat beside me, favoring histories of war and strategy over more esoteric knowledge. The tiny scrapes of turning pages were the only sounds in the room as the sun made its lazy course across the sky. Eventually, my eyes felt heavy, and I felt my chin sink into my chest.

Rays and glowing people beckoned to me from behind my eyes.

Points Of View Chapter 1, Night 1, Rated NC-17

Wed, 25 May 2005 00:17:46 GMT

Not very nice, is he?

It was the waiting that hurt. The veins of the wood pressed into my behind, and I grunted for the hundredth time. The bed let out a tiny creak as my sister shifted above me. Her nervousness was almost palatable. Filling the room with its perfume. “When is he going to GET here.” I muttered to no-one.

“Hush!” came the narcotized reply. I was pleased they’d increased her dosage of Opium. It made her sweeter, more docile. Slowing her reflexes and insuring that she would not cause serious damage to our clientele. I had long since negotiated with Jacob, the head nurse, to cease in giving me the drug. He had believed the powerful narcotic necessary to perform our function with skill and enthusiasm. Simply not believing that a mere child could possess the discipline and talent necessary to please our discerning customers. I had demonstrated his error, empirically, and never had to swallow the drug again. The tingling pain in my feet reminded me that Opium did have its benefits. When I did take it, small discomforts never seemed to matter.

Slender white fingers loomed into my sight, followed by the almost comical upside-down face of my dear Laura. “He’ll be here eventually. You should learn patience.” Her voice was slightly slurred, though I doubt she realized it. The turning of the door bolt made her vanish in a hurry. I smiled. Patience indeed. The creaking metal chattered loudly as she arranged her body in what she, no doubt, considered a seductive manner. My lip stung as I bit it to keep from outright laughter. Silly girl. She was at childbearing age, and we had long included intercourse as a way to strengthen our bond, but Laura still behaved as if this was all utterly new. Perhaps the drug had dulled her mind and clouded her memory. Little difference, I suppose.

“I don’t want you to hurt me.” Laura’s tremulous plea told me as eloquently as a picture the identity of the evening’s audience. DeWinter. A pleasant heat stirred in my thighs. His enthusiasm was memorable. Heavy boots thudded across the floor, and the mattress jerked above me as he moved her. In a voice heavy with fear, she whispered “Please” before his answering chuckle told her exactly what he thought of her appeal. I sympathized. Although I lacked in age, I knew of my skill. Not perfect, but I was learning. Laura seemed intent upon clinging to her childhood innocence, even as we played high priced whores to well bred men. Counterfeit innocence was hardly seductive.

A loud sharp smack, followed by a dull thud filled the room, and I imagined my sister’s cheek flushing with blood at the blow. The pale pile of gangling limbs. The surprise. The pain. I couldn’t resist it. I swept back the bedspread to reveal her. Oh, but she was lovely in form, however inadequate her zeal. Firm white breasts offering themselves up like some sacred fruit, hardened rosebud nipples serving only to emphasize the curve of her. She seemed something to bite into and let the sweet liquor run down your chin in glittering rivulets. I drank her with my eyes. Her cheek had flushed at the man’s blow, a ghost of pink trailing along that perfect alabaster skin. The slithering liquid sound let me know he was undressing. I gazed into her face. Her lips glistened, the consistency of cherry satin. I knew the texture of that slippery warmth intimately. I let the curtain fall into place gently. Mustn’t ruin the illusion.

I was beginning to get an erection.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word.” How trite. DeWinter was a fervent lover, but his taste for the poetic lacked a certain something. The almost musical thuds of her struggles revealed the situation to my mind’s eye. She would thrash, he would present his member, her satiny depths would swallow the thickness of him…..the reverie was broken by his exclamation of surprise. I shook with silent laughter. My sister was not the only one lacking in mental capacity. Whatever she had done, she was now free of him, scrambling across the floor with a sound not unlike crabs scuttling across a smooth rock face.

His fragrant mixture of annoyance and arousal as he stepped after her was almost overwhelming. Laura’s plaintive, pleading, almost mewling moan seemed to tug at places no such whisper should reach. Seeming almost as if that tiny sound exhaled directly from her mouth onto my tingling organ. My head fell back with a sigh, and I caressed my fingers lightly down my length. Each gurgle of hurt from those glossy rubies, the tiny, muffled, rapping of her slender legs slapping the wall sent a new wave of pleasure down my stiffening muscle. Drop by drop the pressure built between my thighs, like waves widening in a deep and endless pool. The pulsing pleasure bordering exquisitely on pain.

Gentle words, then “There, there, little miss. Don’t fret. You’ll be a good little girl from now on, won’t you?” Yes. I licked my hand, leaving a fine sheen of saliva over my fingers before encircling my thickness, contracting gently. Yes, of course she will. My breath caught low in my throat, and I fought not to moan in pleasure. The wet sound of DeWinter’s thrusting into my sister’s throat inspired my hands to time my motion with theirs. Her fear was like tender perfume, filling the room with its tang. Delicious. A breathy admonition exhaled from his lips as he withdrew from her with a sucking pop “Easy. Easy. Too much too fast, and I won’t be able to last.” He was right, of course. I released my throbbing warmth with a tug, and breathed deeply. Rough coughing told me he was as animated as ever, and I smiled in anticipation.

Laura’s strangled gasping moan made my eyes loll as I imagined his meaty fingers fondling her nub of pleasure. “See lovey, it’s not all bad.” No. I mouthed to the darkness. Not bad at all. Her sudden cry of pain as he ground himself into her opening drove air from my lips in quick panting gasps. “HUSH!” came the answering scold. With trembling fingers, I slid my fingers around the fine skin of my sac, letting my erection throb. A sudden sharp slap and a shout of “Ah, you little viper!” made me jump and tighten my grip so that my opening tightened with pleasure and need. The echoes of their copulation, Laura’s muffled screams, and DeWinter’s labored breath teased at my ears with the promise of release.

Like a fine pianist, I fingered an arpeggio on my member. Denying myself greater, more emphatic, pleasure. Increasing my intense desire until it rolled like a symphony on my tongue. A light tearing sound, accompanied by stifled wet screams made the echo of my own memory beat through my mind. I, too, sipped her howling cries. The drum of my pulse urged me to sweep back the cloth, and stand over them. The thin man’s body straddling that creature of wondrous physical beauty, his incessant, ferocious, pounding, those lightning kissed eyes rolling back in her head, his wordless groaning, her convulsing form shining with crimson beads, ……

They were magnificent.

I burned for them. Cupping myself, I licked my lips and drove my spear into his waiting cleft. The tightness and almost unbearable warmth squeezed my member in wave after wave of spasming pleasure. If I were not on top of him, I would have collapsed at the force of it. My sister’s hoarse wail of anguish aroused me to dizzying heights of ecstasy, and I withdraw from that fair flesh. Laura writhed, making him buck beneath me, plunging my hot erection in and out of those depths. I shuddered even as DeWinter and I began to sync our movements. I waited for a moment, sheathed inside him, and I slid my arms around the swell of his chest, to meet his waiting nipples, Rolling them in my fingers, his entrance convulsed against me, filling me almost to the brim with delirious bliss. Wait. Wait. Prolong it.

Discipline.

I grasped onto my skills desperately, and began my rhythm anew. Sliding myself smoothly and profoundly into him. He glided against me with the thick rich sound of flesh hitting flesh. Wrenching myself from his cleft with a gasp, I inserted my finger into him, and discovered that sweet tender spot inside. Rubbing against it, I moved my finger in small concentric circles. A wordless moan and his arching back made me smile with satisfaction, even as my organ burned for release. The movement of his pelvis into my sister made her own back arch beautifully. His own rhythm threatened to loose sync with the force of his pleasure, so I immediately mounted him, the pulse of my own pounding met immediately with his. I rode over that sensitive spot again and again. Every time I did so, he would clench around me, sending tingling ecstasy up my length, and even down my thighs. Causing his own movements to become deeper, more voracious. It was a seemingly endless loop of euphoria. My movements encouraged his, which caused Laura to convulse beneath us. Her movements only fueled his own pleasure, and in turn, mine. Finally, the heaven from his clenched opening, the pressure in my own member, and the violent thrashing beneath us both caused my hot seed to explode from my loins. Indigo stars burst against the cool black of my eyelids. Three howls met and crashed against the ceiling in perfect harmony. My knees buckled, and I fell, breathless, onto the smooth expanse of his back.

After a moment, I slid off of and out of him loose, spent, and utterly satiated. I tugged at his arm until he slithered off of my sister and collapsed into a heap beside her. Laura seemed content to ignore both me, and our client, sobbing weakly into the floor. I sighed. “Shhhh…It’s alright now….it’s over….shhhh” The words seemed only to encourage her to cry harder. I rolled my eyes as I walked to the bedside table. Emptying the slender pill that would insure DeWinter’s return into my palm. I kneeled beside him, and kissed him gently, sweeping my tongue in his mouth, and caressing his teeth lightly before placing the pill between his waiting lips. Sleep. I shall see you again soon.

I left the man to the waiting arms of unconsciousness, and stared at Laura. How tempting she was. A weak tingle in my limp member made me bite back a rueful laugh. Curse the gods that made men wait for future pleasure. Of course, the anticipation would make the pleasure of plunging into her every orifice that much more luscious. Our Sharing was always satisfying. She would be bruised for weeks, and the plunder of that delicate flesh would force tiny sounds from deep within her. Even at that arousing thought, my length refused to harden. I sighed. No matter. I bent down and encircled her, lifting her up and depositing her, gently, on the mattress. Curling beside her, I luxuriated in the satiny feel of her body against mine. Still, her muscles were tense under that honeyed skin. I whispered “I love you” into her waiting ear.

She relaxed, of course.

Knowing what she needed to hear was a valuable skill I had honed over many years. I was her brother, her lover, her god. She worshipped me with her heart, and in the temple of her body. Praising my name with each breath. Flattering child. Although it was good to be worshiped, I held no aching, burning, passionate love for her. Not as she did. I lack the capability, I think. The cold fire that drove my engine had no place for true love, and I had never loved anyone. It was a feeling incompressible to me, though useful, in its own way. One uses the tools they must, after all. As Laura’s breathing deepened, I wondered idly how to get out of this miserable place. There has to be a way. This infernal sanatorium constrained my life, and made any possibility of a great future difficult. I resolved to watch. To wait. To prepare. I would be free. One way, or another.

Everything has a price.

Chapter 4, night 1 Rated NC-17.

Mon, 23 May 2005 04:31:36 GMT

The shock and surprise forced a gasping moan from low in the man’s throat, and he thrust so profoundly into me that it seemed undeniable that he would spear me in truth. His organ would tear my flesh apart, kill me, and he would exit, spent, at last, from my cold lifeless lips. They stayed that way an endless moment. My vision swam in swirls of grey, and I saw many things…..

A dark cell covered in hay…….rose gardens, that held no sweetly perfumed blossoms, only black, crawling thorns…….so many thorns….……explosions of blood from lifeless bodies………chains emanating from the walls which I knew with certain despair were kept clean especially for me……nothing matters……….

The wood bit into my skin, and Craven matched DeWinter’s plunging with his own. They withdrew as one, and penetrated as one. The addition of my brother made the rhythm of DeWinter’s body became more ferocious, driving himself ever deeper inside me. I flayed helplessly, coming perilously close to swallowing my own tongue.

Twin exultations of ecstasy rose to the heavens, and their erections burst their seed one, into the other, into me. My back arched, and ragged raking screams forced themselves from my mouth, meeting their cries of pleasure with my own of agony. My vision saw nothing but the blackness inside my eyelids, my toes and fingers clenched spasmodically, and the tether stretched to a fine silken thread……..

Smoothing the veil of my mourning hat into place……..the precise ticking of a clock……monsters with clawed hands……escape……..flame…..ash…..desperate howls for aid…….being read to for the very first time………achingly beautiful song that entered into my soul and made me weep at the beauty of it……everything matters ……….becoming acutely aware of the malleable texture of time itself……..flying down pitch black ribbons at impossible speeds …….burning liquid forcing its way down my throat……webs, weaving, spiders, always weaving…….pressing my hands onto a gaping red maw, trying desperately to stop the bleeding of my friend, my love, please don’t leave me I don’t want you to go I need you I love……

But, the thread did not snap. Satiated and limp inside me, his bulk collapsed on my chest, forcing the breath from my lungs in a sharp whoosh. Craven dismounted and pulled at the man’s arm until he rolled off of me, pulling his shriveled member one last time from my bruised and bleeding opening. I curled into myself, clenched my eyes, and wept, letting the floor drink my tears as it so often drank my blood. Craven whispered gently, languidly, his voice heavy and drunk with the pleasure of his release “Shhhh…It’s alright now….it’s over….shhhh” Padded footsteps and a wordless moan beside me assured me that my brother had forced the fast dissolving pill into Mr DeWinter’s mouth. It would blur the evening’s memory. Melding together the face and body of myself, and of my twin. The wretch would never be quite sure what he had done, or what had been done to him. Only the unbelievable pleasure would remain. It was the uncertainty that drew them back, to see and settle just one last time exactly what I was. Perhaps they believed me some magical hermaphrodite, never being able to part the mists of their drugged memory enough to see that there was not just an I.

There was a we.

Tender hands and stong arms lifted me onto the mattress, my brother slipping in beside me. He curled around my back protectively. Keeping me safe and warm against the nighttime chill. Soft lips kissed my cheek, and his voice was proud "You did good, Laura. I'm sure they'll be happy with us." I smiled weakly. "Thank you." As I surrendered to unconsciousness, the door latch clicked, and they carried this evening’s client away. Letting him sleep away the effects of the bitter pill in far more comfort than this. A whispered "I love you." against my neck released the last tension in my body, and I relaxed in his arms, my mind finally sinking into dreams.

Chapter 3, night 1, Rated NC-17

Mon, 23 May 2005 04:08:49 GMT

By the by, it should be painfully obvious that if you are incapable of keeping player knowledge separate from character knowledge, or if you want to keep your perceptions of Laura strictly in game, you shouldn't read these.

Abruptly the vice disappeared from my throat and I collapsed, boneless, into his arms. Desperately gulping the air that flowed like soothing honey over my tongue and into my lungs.

“There, there, little miss. Don’t fret. You’ll be a good little girl from now on, won’t you?” His breath was hot and rank on my cheek, but breathing seemed such a privilege that it seemed a shame to waste it on speech. I nodded against the coarse black hairs of his chest. Yes. Of course I will.

In sharp contrast to his violence, he lowered me reverently to the ground. Everything seemed hyper-real. I could discern in vivid detail the grooves in the wood beneath me, the weave of the cloth puddled in the far corner, the translucent pearlessence of my own skin. The knobby lengths of his fingers dug into the back of my skull and gripped my hair, forcing me up and forward. Slipping him into my mouth, I fought not to gag at the salty tang of his skin. My eyes fluttered shut, and I let him guide the rhythm of his furious thrusting. I must do this. It is necessary. He cannot last forever. The firm flesh became even harder and distended down my tongue, bumping the back of my throat and sliding down it like salted silk. The sensation came far too close to cutting off my newly earned breath, and I fought to draw in air around him. I clenched my hands, letting the pain in my palm keep me from clenching my teeth and severing the delicate flesh from his body. I gagged and swallowed around his member, making my wet depths squeeze his spear in a tight wave. It forced a pleasured moan from his lips. He let out a breathy laugh, and withdrew, leaving me coughing.

“Easy. Easy. Too much too fast, and I won’t be able to last.” My hair slid freely around my shoulders as he released me. The simple act of breathing, and not retching, took all of my concentration. I wiped my streaming eyes and nose with my arm, clearing my sight. Cupping his hands around my breasts, he pushed me down. I suppose he knew something of the pain he would cause me, as he pinned my hands to the floor. The tip of his organ brushed against my folds and I writhed underneath him. He smiled. “See lovey, it’s not all bad.” He abruptly lifted my arms above my head, and wrapped his right hand around both wrists. The weight of his bulk ground my hands into the pine making me wince and whimper.

Reaching between my legs with his free hand, he pinched my nub between thumb and forefinger. Air rushed into my lungs in a foul gush as I gasped and squirmed. Tingling waves of sensation coursed through my thighs, and my eyes opened too wide. What had once seemed a scrawny rodent-like body now appeared huge above me. Half pleasure turned into outright pain as he separated my petals and drove his tip into my opening. “Oh…oh God…. you’re so tight….” My back arched and I shrieked, as he seemed to drive a sword into me, and through me. Splitting me in two. Surely I would crack and break down the center of my body.

I could not hold this.

Yelling “HUSH!” he pressed his free hand over my mouth. I bit and tasted iron as I broke his skin. “Ah! you little viper!” He tore his fingers away and slapped me. The world seemed jarred out of place, as if two perfect images were overlaid with an inch between them. The part of me that still clung to its opium escape idly wondered if he broke my jaw. Musk and sweat overwhelmed my nose as he replaced his hand. Working his way out of me, his skin seemed as pumice stone, scraping me raw inside. Only muffled moans escaped around his fleshy palm, and I could feel wetness spilling around his organ. A wetness that could only be blood. He beat his body into mine, and it seemed as if he would meld me into the wood below, and I would be left nothing but a smear on the grain. The wet meaty sound of skin smacking skin and the panting of his breathing filled the room. It was difficult to think of anything past the pain, but slowly I noticed…..something…..

With each thrust, I seemed to rise above my body.

It was an echoingly weightless feeling. A respite from the compulsory horror. With every withdrawal, the invisible line around my waist would pull me back into myself. I ached to be set free. To cut the tether tying me to this world and to simply fly away. Noticing that I was no longer enough attention to his ministrations, he released my mouth and raked his nails across my breast, catching and tearing at my nipple. Covering my lips with his, he seemed to swallow my screams like some unholy delicacy, even as he snaked his tongue around mine. His body quivered with pleasure as I thrashed.

Dimly, I was aware of my brother emerging at last from his hiding place. His own member was a hard exclamation point against his abdomen. So beautiful. From the shoulder length sweep of hair to exactly match my own, to the gentle swell of his chest, the hollow of his collarbone, the velvet muscle of his thighs, he was beautiful. I watched Craven cup himself, his breath catching in a sharp hiss. With utter precision, he straddled the larger man, and drove his own erection into Mr. DeWinter’s entrance.

Chapter 2, night 1, Rated NC-17

Sat, 21 May 2005 20:15:01 GMT

The door opened, silhouetting a pinch-faced man with thinning hair and a sharply cut suit against the dim flickering light of the hallway. Mr. DeWinter. My treasonous face allowed the fear lodged behind my tongue to show. I could feel it.

“I don’t want you to hurt me.” The benign words trembling with the thread of my panic. His returning smile was razor white. With two great strides he cleared the room and hoisted me to my knees. Nostrils flaring slightly I could see the milky lightness of his eyes as he let them rake across my body. I fought to keep the panic down. Screaming wouldn’t do. Smile. The knowledge that my feeble attempt at a seductive smile was probably more akin to a chimpanzee bearing its teeth did nothing to alleviate my shaking. “Please.” I don’t know, I never knew, whether pleading did me better or worse, but I lacked the courage to hold my silence against his sallow face.

He chuckled. A deep vibrating sound. Any attempt at seduction ceased as he gripped my arms painfully tight. The world went spinning for a moment, and I hit the closed door with a smack. Sliding down into a crumpled heap of pale limbs, I let my vision swirl and burst into dizzy sparkles. Don’t focus. I sometimes fancy I can see color in those moments when the world is dark and my mind is empty. The azure of agony, bright purple punches, the crimson of blood trailing in a thin jeweled line from my lips. Although my breath struggled to find passage around my heart, the piece of me that was lolling in a drug-induced calm wondered for the thousandth time what ‘blue’ meant.

I saw Craven ‘s outline between Mr. DeWinter’s legs, and we locked eyes for an endless moment, while my client unbuttoned his fair trousers. Our Sharing would come later. The clients were necessary for our keepers to let us lie together in peace. Illicit adoration has its price and we paid our dues in blood and flesh. The right to love had to be earned, in this place. Craven turned away first, and silently let the bedspread fall back. Shame made my face flush.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word.” I strove to meet eyes so far above me, but his swollen member loomed into my view, and I was suddenly unable to focus on anything else. Grabbing and pinning my wrists high above my head, I struggled and bucked against his grip. Gone was my resolve to calmly accept the veined horror that was offered to me. Thoughts of prices and of future comfort fled my mind and left me a tremulous weeping thing, crazed with the thought of escape. I bit at the air in front of his length, saliva sharp with the tang of blood dribbling down my chin. Yelping in surprise at my vehemence, he released me.

Splinters dug their way into my knees as I scrambled away from him on all fours. My legs seemed to have lost the volition to function properly. I reached for the window and let the cold metal provide me with an anchor with witch to regain my balance. The rough calluses on his hand scraped against my shoulder, and I let out a moan of despair. Smoothly, effortlessly, he wrapped his palm against my windpipe. Delicately squeezing it closed. Although Mr. DeWinter was as scrawny in body as he was in heart, he easily lifted me inches off the ground. The thought flickered through my whirring mind in Mother’s dulcet voice Practice makes perfect. Such a nice voice, before lingering sickness turned it rough and grating. Blackness gushed from the ragged shallow cuts I clawed into his arm. Kicking outwards seemed to have little effect, though many times I connected solidly with the meat of his body. Screaming seemed a precious thing, now that I lost the ability to do so. He grunted in pain. Arousal. Both. My legs began to convulse and my fingers searched for his face, tingling shooting pains driving up my arms as I did so. The whole of my chest burned bright and hot with the need to breathe. Numbness began its creeping onslaught into my veins, marching down my skin and conquering my body. By their own volition, my eyes streamed out tears and rolled in their sockets, searching for my brother. Unable to control my limbs any longer, they spasmed uselessly. Hitting the wall with tiny, muffled, thumps. Please. Anyone. Blackness edged onto my eyesight. Help me. Please. .............Colors

.........Azure.........

..................Beautiful.................

Chapter 1, night 1, rated R

Sat, 21 May 2005 06:36:44 GMT

(Firstly takalookat the iconses. That's laura about 12 to 15 years from the time these writings begin, ok? She's in her early teens here. This un is short, and not-so wonderful, but it gets better. I promice.)

It was the waiting that hurt. The bitter ache filling my mind as the acrid taste of medicine lingered on my tongue. Singing tension along my limbs would abate when he came in. His gait, his face, his voice would alert me and at last I would know what manner of clientele I was to service this night. It was the unknown, the uncertainty of it that, somehow, made it worse. Opium was a half blessing at best. My mind was dulling ever so slightly, and my shivering anxiety was receding, leaving nothing but a detached blankness behind. The evening’s future activities seemed of far less import than the play of light and dark along my side.

“When is he going to GET here.” complained the figure under my bed. Craven. My brother.

“Hush.” He should know better. As his impatience grew, it pressed like a thick weight against my back. How did it do that through the bedsprings? Feelings emanated from him constantly. As if he controlled a psychic wave of emotion, something to bathe in, roll in, drown in.

My fingers latched onto the side, and the metal gave a tiny protest as I leaned over and gazed into a face so like a mirror to my own. “He’ll be here eventually. You should learn patience.” Letting my last syllables fade into a hiss.

A dull thud alerted me to save lectures for later and concentrate on the task at hand. Hurriedly I splayed myself out into what I hoped was an inviting repose. Hair they called auburn spread around me like a feintly perfumed curtain. The diminishing fear came crashing back into my chest, making my heart rush into my throat. Smile. Don’t forget to smile.