Chapter 2: Journeys -
The torches flared brighter again as if in welcome. The kneeling woman lifted
her head, the fiery gleam that flickered deep in the dark pools of her eyes
sharpening, brightening. She awoke. The delicious torment of another night lay
in wait, another night, another eternity of blood and desire. A pattern without
change...
The body began to animate, reluctantly, as if powered by forces not within its
control. The eyelids swept open, revealing icy blue eyes. They were flat,
expressionless discs, cold and desolate. She sat up as if hinged in the middle,
and scoured the room with that cold gaze, finally focussing on the slave.
she sensed her Mistress, even before she saw Her. That powerful sensation that
awoke a terrible raging hunger within, one that was never satisfied. she tensed
in her restraints, trembling with want, but not daring to move an inch. There
were worse things than the gnawing hunger, than the insatiable lust. she
hurriedly lowered her head, to stare at her own exposed crotch, as Mistress
stood up. A shiver of fear raced up and down her body. Fear, mixed with love.
And yearning...
She gazed down at Her slave, kneeling correctly before Her. The tide of hunger
rose up as it always did. She must control it; She was not a beast! She rose in
a single fluid movement, and the torches dipped low, as if in obeisance, as She
stepped from her place of sanctuary, and approached Her pet. Long red nails ran
lightly down the side of the pallid face, drawing a line of blood, stark against
the ashen skin.
her body was twanging like a bow string, her heightened senses almost
overwhelmed with the presence of She who Sired her. she smelt the blood as it
trickled down her face, but felt no pain. How could she? All she could feel was
the deep, deep ache, and the Need. Unbidden, she grew aroused.
She gripped the slave under the chin, nails digging in like talons, and pulled
the head up to look at it. Blue eyes met green, and locked. Slowly the slave
rose to her feet, her grace belying her bound arms. she tilted her head up and
to one side, exposing a patch of bare white skin under where the silken gag ran
round to the back of her head. her juices started to drip from between her puffy
labia, pooling on the floor as her Mistress planted the Kiss - the Kiss of life,
the Kiss of death...Her gift, her curse.
***
The owl glided silently over the spiky treetops. It was the Hunter, silhouetted
against the rising moon. Much has been said of the wisdom of owls, and that
wisdom is the knowledge that a hunter is always alone. All else is prey, rival
or threat, nothing more, nothing less. The wisdom is to live that solitary
existence, to truly know one's place in the world and be content.
Its sharp eyes spotted a quicksilver movement at the forest floor, and it
swooped effortlessly down through the gaps in the grasping branches.
The mouse looked up and saw its future descending to meet it. It stood
transfixed, one tiny paw in the air, paralysed in the very act of its next step.
The mouse, too, knew its place, just as did the owl. It now knew itself to be
prey, and waited, frozen, for its fate to be fulfilled.
The owl skimmed down, claws flexing, prey within inches...
The heavy thudding of hooves broke the spell. The cold dry earth trembled almost
imperceptibly, but to the mouse this was an earthquake. It quickly scurried away
as the pony and trap approached, and the owl soared back into the cold night
air, screeching its frustration.
The harsh cry of the owl seemed to rake down Elena's spine, as she sat huddled
inside her cloak. She had hoped that their journey would be broken at some
stage, but they had passed through the little town of Nicieri without stopping,
the pony's hooves echoing eerily across the rough cobblestones as they crossed
the deserted marketplace. Elena had looked yearningly at the warmly glowing
windows of the town's tavern as it had slipped away behind them. Not one word
had either of her companions uttered for the last hour, and it looked as if they
were to be on the road for some time.
She shivered as they plunged deeper into the forest, beech trees and twisted
oaks jostling for position along the rough track as if eager to reach out and
grab the passers-by. She was chilled, despite the cloak, and uncomfortable from
having no choice but to remain in place on the hard wooden seat of the trap as
it jolted along the track through the forest. She was also becoming quite
hungry, as her last meal, the dry bread and hard onions, seemed like an age ago,
in another life.
The pallid radiance of the moon lit their way, transforming the forest into a
tangled monochrome confusion of light and shade, but there were clouds on the
horizon in the direction of their journey, visible as great rolling patches of
deeper darkness against the night sky, blotting out the stars. Elena couldn't
help but imagine that they were lying in wait for someone...
***
The lightning lashed through the inky sky, cracking over the back of the castle,
and illuminating its jumble of red-tiled roofs even as the incessant rain
battered down on them.
The cellars were still smothered in a heavy silence. She had sipped from Her
slave, struggling against the almost unbearable urge to drink deeply, to drain
her to the last drop. But no, that function would be served by another...
For her part, slave again knelt on that unyielding stone, her bound arms forcing
her shoulders back as she dipped her head between Her legs, as She pulled her
full silk skirts and petticoats up to accommodate her: slave must perform her
duties before she received her reward.
She sensed the questing tongue slide into Her, and in an instant "felt" again!
Those old, bittersweet, mortal memories flooded into Her mind; those many, many
times of gentle, sweet fulfilment, when love was a young and fragile bird,
taking its first faltering flight from the nest, revelling in the host of
unfamiliar and exciting images and emotions. Before the darkness, before the
Need...
slave could scent her Mistress, not merely the hot sweet arousal, but the
stronger, metallic tang of the fluid of life that ran sluggishly through those
cold veins. slave had to feed, must feed to live. The removal of her gag, the
whispering of silk as it was pulled from her mouth, had almost been her undoing,
as it always was. slave knew, though, somewhere in that part of the mind that
could still reason as the person she'd once been, that her Needs were
subservient to those of Mistress. Should she not show discipline then she would
learn it. Perhaps she would never be allowed to feed again, left to suffer the
Hunger, bound and wasting, for eternity. Such a fear stood out bright and sharp
from the murk that enshrouded her mind. That and her ever-present restraint,
ensured her obedience.
The hot passion arose in Her, setting that cold body aflame, as slave's tongue
caressed and swirled inside Her. She clasped slave's head, Her long fingers
tangled in the raven curls, forcing her in deeper, and compelling the utterance
of a soft muffled moan from the kneeling woman.
she sensed Her arousal growing, and her efforts to pleasure Her took on a more
intense urgency, instinctively knowing that her own Need would soon be
satisfied. Her adept tongue danced, eagerly lapping at the musky sweetness
within.
She cried out, a cry of consummation, as the climax spread though the body, like
lava flowing through cold rock. The throaty cry echoed through the cellar,
shredding the heavy blanket of silence, as she was swept back to recollections
of warmth and love, of being a real woman. Her fingers curled, her nails biting
into the skin beneath the slave's hair, even as the body bucked and twisted in
the throes of fulfilment.
And then they were gone, ripped away, leaving only a distant dream. She grasped
for the warm, contented feeling as it too, slipped away. Mere minutes had
passed, all too soon. She opened her mouth, as if to sigh, but there was no
breath. There had been none for a long time past. As the chilly desolation swept
through the body again, she had the presence of mind to whisper "you may" at
slave's unspoken plea. She barely felt the piercing of the skin of her inner
thigh nor the steady flow as slave finally received her reward.
slave drank greedily, revelling in Her completion, and the fusion of Being -
Mistress and slave, One to another, back to One, a circle of eternal life, and
eternal Need.
***
The storm clouds began to roll in, thick and swollen with rain, as the pony and
trap continued its slow journey towards Castel Sleampa.
