Liquid Seduction

Well, you may have noticed that my story was, umm, shall we say , interrupted?  Yeah, we'll go with that.  I've debated on whether to finish it or not as life has been launching curve balls at me.  A new theme will begin next week in March.  The winners for the Giveaway will be announced Monday, March4th.  It's not too late to enter - and your odds of winning are still huge!  So right now, click on the page on the right.  The little tab right up there  and leave a comment. That's all it takes to enter! 

Today is featuring a writer who has contributed to our blog before, please welcome back Cecile Hardy with a flash fiction.

 

Liquid Seduction

by

Cecile Hardy

Sara leaned back in the tub, dipping her hair into the water and allowing the warmth to seep into her skin after a long days work. The bubbles popped occasionally against her skin as she stretched gently, first one leg, then the other. She sighed, flicked the radio on, closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, drifting into a comfortable daydream. As her mind wandered she never noticed the door slide open a crack.

The eyes that peered through the gap were at first tired from work, but on meeting the image softened into a smile. Leigh’s expression quickly turned to playful mischievousness as her partner stretched and relaxed. Pulling the door to, but not quite shutting it, she slipped into the bedroom, tossed her coat into the wardrobe without a thought. Her scarf and shoes found their ways to the floor and her hat was tossed in a direction that she knew she’d regret not remembering later but at that moment, really, really didn’t care.

Leigh flew down the stairs, swinging around the end post with a practiced ease, ungracefully dodging the bag she’d dumped in the hallway as she bounded towards the kitchen, snatching two wine glasses and a favourite red from the sideboard. Spinning around she swiped up the box of chocolates she had bought for a friend’s party that weekend and attempted to take the first two steps together, before stumbling and catching herself awkwardly with her shoulder. Breathing a sigh of relief she took the stairs the rest of the way carefully, hesitating at the door to the bathroom. She looked down at the bottle in her hand and then caught her reflection in the mirror. Glancing at the door for the second time she returned to their room, dumping the bottle, glasses and chocolates on the bed and swiftly undressing. Now she was ready. Now she had a purpose.

Sara vaguely registered that someone had entered the house. Sara vaguely recollected hearing a thump and the sound of someone stumbling and cursing in the hallway. Sara vaguely remembered snorting at that fact. Right now however, she was in heaven and really couldn’t give a crap.

Leigh snuck into the bathroom, the door gently clicked shut behind her. Her bare feet moved quietly the few feet across the room and the wine bottle found the window sill overlooking the tub. The wine glasses quickly followed. Opening the box of chocolates she popped one into her mouth and resting one of her hands on the edge of the bath she used the other to snake around the back of Sara’s neck, drawing her into a deep, passionate kiss.

Sara’s brain exploded with pleasure as she was kissed. It was a mix of chocolate and mint and coffee that was intoxicating. She felt a foot touch her leg and the kisser slowly sink down into the bath with her, pressing their body into hers.

Leigh knew there was hardly any room in the bath to move and her knee found the gap between her partner’s legs, draping herself over Sara’s right side as she kissed her. Sara’s eyes fluttered open, dazed.  A silly smile spreading across her face.

“Hi.” She purred softly.

“Hi.” Leigh grinned, trailing her fingers up and down Sara’s chest.

"Chocolate?”

“Why not?”

Sara shrugged and drew Leigh into a deep kiss.

“Wine?” Leigh smirked and shook the bottle gently.

“I love you.”

“I know sweetie.”

Leigh’s grin only widened as she poured the burgundy liquid into one of the glasses.

Rebirth: Siam's Story

Today is final installment of Siam's story.  I hope you've been enjoying it.  The revised edition of this story will be potentially appearing in an ebook soon, with all the sweet, loving, juicy, and kinky scenes not shown here.  It was a blast to write!  I'm really stoked for October's story,  Don't miss it!

 

Rebirth

 

by

 

Ben Hannigan

 



Dear Diary,

Looking back writing this diary has helped, I guess.  Though I have kept a diary as a matter of course throughout my years, I am rehashing the events that led to my current life. I’m tired of facing it but at the same time avoiding talking about it.

My father didn’t retire gracefully from my life after being served with papers and a restraining order. I had stopped training as hard and was as I already said, enjoying the new aspects of my relationship. We were happy, but it wasn’t to last. The question is Diary, do I explain the damage done before the why?  I suppose I should really. None of us died, but in a way I died and was reborn in some ways. I start my days now being lifted out of my bed by Laura and am carried to the shower where she helps me bathe and dress, I crawl, dragging my useless legs behind me to the stairs and crawl slowly with each agonizing movement, Laura watching as I push myself never allowing her to help. I have had to move in with my love full time because thanks to Daddy Dearest, I can’t live alone. Once I get down those twelve steps I allow myself to rest and take my painkillers before I am lifted into the device that I spend the rest of the day in.

I am strapped into the chair with a harness and am setup to go to work, Laura eats but I don’t, until I have digested the drugs, it isn’t safe for me to eat. I roll out to the truck and I’m hoisted in by my lover. I can still drive though have the clutch and the gas as hand pedals on the wheel. I do love driving, I am still mobile and free in the car or on the Trike. But I am getting ahead of myself here aren’t I?  I should probably explain exactly what it is that has left me a useless mewling cripple dependant on my lover.

 I have been like this for close to a decade now. I am thirty six and my father took from me many things. Ben and the girls still love me, still want me, though since they are raising their brood of kids so we don’t often find the time to play as often anymore. They all try to reassure me that I am still worth their time, but I have been robbed of many experiences by what happened. I wanted to bear Laura children, either through a donation or through the science of creating “sperm” using her DNA but I can’t. The birth would kill me and I can hardly raise them now thanks to this fucking thing, this titanium prison that I use to move, that I am strapped into, that is now as much me as my arm or my slit.

Basically what happened was as follows;  after my breakdown we carried on and moved on with our lives;  working, sharing and loving each other. I had been with Laura three years and we made a decision. We travelled together to the city of fallen Angels, “Sin City” and wedded. Ben was Laura’s best man, her in a flattering morning suit looking fucking stunning and me the blushing bride in white. We stood in a chapel owned by a friend and were married. Strangely for Vegas it wasn’t a tacky kitsch wedding, it was a proper service, I attended by my two bridesmaids, my childhood friends. The littlest girl of the HDI family was my flower girl, the three year old girl manning the foam dart belt fed grown into a talkative six year old dressed in a gown to match mine, her brother bearing the rings for us and Rabbit stood or slumped next to the two of them in a suit to match Laura’s tailored by me.

The whole company was there along with Lucy, Sophie, and Ben’s parents. people I knew well from childhood who stood in for me as my parents when it got too bad at home and the three dads even jokingly played rock paper scissors for the right to walk me down the aisle. We had timed the wedding for the week after the trade show for the firearms industry so that all of us could be there. It was beautiful! A few old hymns were sang and there was just a huge outpouring of love. We signed the certificate that set up our civil partnership and had one hell of a party in a private room at a hotel on the strip including a midnight roller coaster ride in our glad rags. We left the group at the airport as they flew home. Laura and I flew to Italy for a week long honeymoon of. Laughter, sex, museums, galleries, more sex and trips to the Ducati museum and the Beretta factory, we were accompanied by “Rabbit” as he was ordered to keep us safe. I hugged the children, laughing at this and my Bride ruffled their hair and solemnly promised to let him look after us.

We arrived back home re-energised and ready to work again, chasing up the contacts that we had made at SHOT and from the factory trip.  We returned home and spent the first three days at Laura’s place as a couple and debated breaking my lease. I had kind of decided to ask about moving in with my partner and when she asked me too I was elated. While she dealt with the legal stuff like changing my name on the paperwork for my licenses I returned to my place to pack up and move over.

I returned to a scene from hell, the front door was ajar and that was the first sign that I should have paid more attention to. My landlord had popped in to fix the plumbing,  so I assumed that he was there. So I just stepped in. I crossed the threshold and the world went black. I felt a thud across the back of my head and my legs buckled as a bag was thrown over my head. Gasping for air I screamed silently unable to stop myself from crying out, but I couldn’t get enough into my lungs to make the noise to alert anyone as the combination of being gagged and choked relentlessly continued. I blacked out I think and I found myself naked chained to a chair in a basement. I didn’t know where I was. All I had on was my ring and the bracelet I had received as my wedding gift from Laura. The blinking light that shimmered in the half-light comforting because it meant I would be found eventually.

I looked up into a closed fist and felt my nose explode. It was Stephan and my father, the boy beating me and my father watching impassively. I willed myself to stay silent as he watched. “Enough!” he grunted and the man-child I was apparently to be owned by, stopped.

“Siam, you are worthless to me to the Lord now. Useless a fucking dyke. I’m fucking ashamed, my own daughter my flesh and blood a fucking dyke slag bound for hell.”

I sat and ignored the abuse; the light blinking and my only focus being that light. I retreated into my head to escape the abuse. I was punch-drunk and wrecked. All I could see was that steady blink as I lost any idea of time. It must have been a day or two because they changed clothes and shaved. Abused for being a whore and worthless, my father explained slowly what he was going to do. Since I was soiled and no longer of use to him as a bribe he reasoned, he could let the boy have his fun then ruin me.

He had found the details of my wedding because of the fact that the parents of my school friends were there. He was taunting me telling me Laura was next and that I would suffer.  He was angry to the point of insanity and I was raped under his watchful eye, being taught my place and taught what he believed a woman was good for and should rave. It hurt diary it had none of the love or the passion that sex with my lovers had, it was hate, it was pain it was pure unadulterated evil.

 

I found later that the first night my wife assumed that I had fallen asleep at my flat amid boxes and didn’t worry, but when I didn’t appear at work the next morning she began to panic. They went to the flat worried that I had fallen and hurt myself, and went together with a medical bag ready for the worst. They found the flat torn apart, my room trashed and the door ajar, they found blood on the carpet and the words “WHORE, DYKE, HELL BOUND BITCH” burned into the walls. Laura was hyperventilating, now collapsed and attended to by the girls and Ben stood and phoned for help. Squad cars screamed into the lot and a steady stream of police streamed up the stairs into the flat, taking pictures, reviewing the damage The Lieutenant who supported me during the hearing for the restraining order, laying a hand on Laura’s shoulder comforting her as he radioed my description and a description of my father to the surrounding area.

Talking through her tears and shaking shoulders, fighting with her emotions to try and speak, trying to force the words past her lips between the mournful sobbing, Laura managed to get out two words she repeated over and over throughout the first twenty hours of brainstorming where I could have been taken, “jewellery, tag”, most ignored it as it didn’t make sense but then Sophie whistled harshly and said “Of course, how could we miss that!”

The Lieutenant asked confused “Miss what?”

Sophie explained whilst punching data into her tablet with one hand whilst stroking my love’s back with the other, “She wears a bracelet with a transponder chip in it; she is testing the long term effectiveness of the device. It is her login to the company system and also a tracking device when activated.” Handing the officer the tablet she had located me and had both, an address, an approximate location and the floor plan of the building. Looking worried the officer read the vitals report, “Subject is under stress, very tired, pulse fading in and out, likelihood of extreme stress, terror, potentially seriously injured.”

He radioed in for a recovery team and told my friends, my family “It will take 12 hours for us to be able to hit the place.” In response my family reacted angrily and walked away from my desecrated home to the truck they travelled down in, emblazoned with company decals and insignia. Opening the boot, they pulled out the bug out bags that they all carried. Donning heavy body armour, loading a mixture of smgs, automatic rifles and a door breaching shotgun, the three equipment designers appeared to be a well-equipped assault team. They fixed him with a glare and said as a group “Either get kitted up and come with us or stay out of our fucking way.”

He argued and protested that they didn’t have the training or the expertise until Ben said icily “I am the head instructor for HDI. I am also a man who has served in combat as a member of a Marine Recon team. I was injured in combat and left the service as medically unable to serve due to being hit with an IED, whilst the girls went to university working for the company, I am two years older than” he indicated Lucy and Sophie “I know exactly what I am doing, so put up or shut up.” He racked his breaching shotgun and walked to the truck, grinning as he saw the officer grabbing armour and a carbine.

Laura drove, with Sophie navigating; driving like a bat out of hell swearing as she followed the directions she was given. She stopped a block from the target. It was a rundown house surrounded by weeds.  It was in an area of the city full of crack dens and meth ops. With houses available and no questions asked.

 

“Fuck playing nice this is going to end violently.” Laura said as she withdrew four canisters from a locked box in the truck, they were squat black and marked “tear gas for law enforcement use only.” The Lieutenant muttered “I should report that” quailing under the glare of a pissed off bear of a man, he shut up. They stepped out of the truck walking to the house.  Rather than knocking, Laura shot through the downstairs windows and followed up with two of the canisters, reaching into her pouch for a small respirator she put hers on and waited for the rest of the team to act similarly.

Ben breached the door blasting the lock and they pushed in, sweeping the two floors they found nothing but Stephan curled up in a ball vomiting. The officer cuffed him and watched as Laura placed her boot on his throat and placed the gun on his temple, she calmly breathed and was about to fire when the officer realised what was going on. Pushing her away he called for a car to pick up the prisoner. “This has to be done by the book I won’t watch you murder him cuffed in cold blood.”

“The term officer is executed. He kidnapped my wife and probably raped her.  He doesn’t deserve to live. ” She kicked the man who was to be my husband so long ago until he blacked out and then carried on only stopping when she was dragged off by the two officers sent to retrieve him.  Whether they were protecting him or helping restrain him by removing him to the waiting van,  no one was quite sure.

Laura heard a howl of pain and a maniacal laugh from behind the basement door and kicked it open. She found me half dead from pain and blood loss, tied to a table naked, my father grinning as he hammered at my spine driving a series of spikes into me. “See if your slut wants you now. Bitch, you won’t ever walk again.  If I put this last one in, you won’t be able to wipe your arse alone you Jezebel bitch.” He laughed as he held it about to strike one last time and Laura dove through the entrance way.

I moaned burbling through blood in my mouth “Thank god, I knew you’d come but I was losing hope. He told me you knew I was here and didn’t care, I’m sorry.” I vomited blood onto the floor and moaned “He told me I deserve this, my father knows what’s best, he must be right.”

Laura grunted in rage dropping the guns.  This was violence on the same brutal animal level I had fought Ben with.  She hit my father like a freight train, punching him, ignoring the blow from the lump hammer as if it was a pillow hit from one of the fights we had with our nieces and nephews. She smashed him into the wall and I watched as she choked him. I was still mumbling that I deserve this that I was damaged, spoiled goods. The officers who followed my wife down the stairs, vomiting from the stench of blood, sweat and pain. Lucy screamed for an ambulance and the thwack of my fathers head hitting the wall, Ben and Sophie watched, feral grins on their faces, anger in their stance, at the man who dared hurt me, watching my lover beat him, intent on letting her kill him.

I whimpered as the spasms from my breathing shook my body. “Please stop her, she can’t kill for me. I’m not worth it.” They watched, waiting for the paramedics and turned.  “She will hate me if she kills for me.  Please, please, stop the pain, I need my Laura I can’t see her go to prison.” Laura blinked, staring at the unconscious torturer and shook. She sobbed as she saw what had been done to me. Semen, sweat tears and blood soaking my body as the paramedics worked to move me gently.

 I blacked out there with Laura stroking my hair telling me everything was going to be OK.

 

I woke up about two days later. Well, at least I think it was two days.  I can’t be sure.  I woke to what felt like fire coursing through my veins and I screamed, but couldn’t be heard. I fought, I flailed the mask constricting my breathing. I was panicking as I woke Diary, that’s what I remember burned into my brain, sheer animal terror, unable to move from the blankets pinning me down. My angel was there then. I felt water cooling my burning throat and she pressed the button that I couldn’t reach, and I felt that blissful moment, the push of the cold ice trickle of morphine through me extinguishing the fire.

I cried and cried, “I can’t feel my legs. Laura what’s happened? I can’t move my legs.” I shivered, sobbing and she held me close to her breast “I know kitten, I know, gods I’m sorry.”

She just held me right from that moment to the point where I was released.  Throughout the physio, the measuring for my wheelchair, she was there through it all. She took me home and still loved me.

I was weak and dependant on her; she took me home and changed my bandages.  When I was ready I came home. I was weak, she changed my bandages, bathed me, cared for me. I worked from home sketching from the sofa or the bed. I spent my days sobbing in pain. I spent six months and she loved me, kissed me goodnight, but I was terrified because she didn’t come to me as a lover. For someone like me that was a warning of a fate worse than death.

Mustering up my courage one evening, I was scared, frustrated and lost, I saw only one option, I needed this needed to feel something more than my own five minute fumble of frustration, I found my target and knew what I had to do,  I crawled across the two foot between us in the bed of a night, the two foot that felt like an impassable chasm, I had achieved closure of a sort, this is what I did to move on, the night of my rebirth I suppose Diary.  

I had faced my father and his co-conspirators as I watched them be attacked by a judge who condemned the fact that he could not call for the death penalty for the sins committed against me, all the while my father claiming his religion allowed this, that I was chattel, property to be traded or gifted at his whim. I watched; mute as he was given life without exception. My mother condemned to a psychiatric ward for her crimes against me, Stephan also was sentenced to life. He like my father convinced that he was morally justified in his actions.

The night after I watched this ending, this promise of protection, whilst Laura slept, I steadied my nerves with a drink from the bottle by the bed and I dressed slowly in the outfit I wore the first time she made love to me and I crossed that chasm, it took me about an hour to do this. Each inch paid for in sweat and silent tears, but I was by her side. I woke her gently with a kiss and I waited for her to look into my eyes “My Laura, my love, can you please? Can we? I mean, I want, I need” I mumbled and she waited, for me to finish.

“What is it my darling, you need the loo? Or meds?” My lover turned nurse asked me, concerned.

I died a little inside that that was her first thought, but then remembered what she taught me. I am the mistress of my own sexuality and I can ask. It isn’t wrong to vocalize desires. “I want to be your lover. I want to feel you, know your body again. I want you to take me.” I moaned with frustration, my legs spread as I straddled her leg, draped over her moving my legs apart with my arm. She could feel my wet centre through my knickers “Please my Laura, make me yours again, gods please, just fuck me. Make me feel.”

She looked at me in shock and bit her lip as I slid myself down her leg a little using the movement to put pressure on my sex because I needed the contact. “Gods baby” I whimpered with need and bit her earlobe gently.”

She moaned into the contact and kissed me hard, deep and fast “I was sure you wouldn’t want to be touched again.” she sighed into my embrace and kissed my neck, her hands sliding up my top caressing my bare breasts.

“And I was sure you wouldn’t want me.” I replied, sighing happily into the contact, her fingertips toying with my nipples as I shuddered happily.” She pushed me to the bed and took control. In seconds I was nude and she was inside me, two fingers deep, fast, rough, scratching, biting. She was throwing me around the bed easily now, I was smaller, lighter than before. She had to move me at times, my legs not responding, but my core was as I leaked onto the sheets. She sucked each nipple as she threw me around, it was sloppy uncontrolled, not coordinated, but it was sex. I felt desired as she ate me, consuming me I was hers again. Her forcing my head down into her crotch and I sucked her dry. I sucked and licked her, her arousal like nectar to me. I needed it, needed this, biting down on her clit as she bit mine, my tongue probing her arse as she fucked me with a toy.  I couldn’t move to fuck her, to thrust into her but we managed, She rode me, the dildo in me and her sliding up and down on it, we managed. We shook the cobwebs out and no mistake. My orgasm hitting me as hers hit and I lost all control.

I shook and shook, moaning, losing myself in this ball of fire, this desire exploding, going from my centre across my chest down each arm escaping in this undulating wail of happiness. This ball of lust escaping as I yowled, cried, begged and shook. Hers subsided before mine even reached its peak. She grinned laughing, knowing that unlike her, I hadn’t really been able to touch my core myself since before the rebirth. I was losing myself in it, soaking the sheets as I leaked come and came and came and came. Losing my mind it was so good. I lay my head nestled between her breasts as I tried to feed eagerly at her nipple, her hands bringing me higher and higher and higher, pushing through each orgasm with a gasp, she didn’t give me time to catch a breath. The orgasms blurred into one long orgasm as she drove me further and deeper. I lost myself in the pleasure, in the fire pulsing through my body. She was happily holing me without demanding anything, four fingers buried in my eager sopping cunt as I came and came. She felt her nipple slip from my eager mouth and my breath hitch and my moans stop, my last coherent memory Diary was losing all control and laying on my lover’s cunt, One final orgasm pushed me over the edge, I did something I never ever thought I would do, her mouth on my neck as she stroked me, I was her doll at this point could barely even moan I was so deeply lost in my orgasms, I cried out “Laura” with a throat hoarse from screaming and I lost all control,  emptied my bladder, the warm liquid almost indistinguishable from the come leaking from me. Laura giggled musically and the last I remember from that night was a murmured, “Hmmm water sports, maybe we should explore that later.” I was unconscious sleeping in her arms, this contented cat, a cat that had her own dairy of cream.

I woke being held by her and was kissed awake.  A kiss that seemed to shake my world, curling my toes,. Well it would have if I could move them. As I was carried to the shower and pinned in place I had my box ravished by her tongue. I was hers again and at that point I think my healing truly happened. I was a sexual being again. My Laura helped me dress sexily again, helped me love her, helped me take her, make love to her, helped Ben ravish me and fill me.

I was hers again. “I mumbled loving nothings each evening, still borrowed her during meetings to ravish and devourer her. When we walked into work that morning, the morning after I exploded into nothingness in her armed, everyone knew I was back, I was me again. The sex was more than an earth shattering orgasm, it was a symbol. It was the fact I wasn’t a burden, was wanted, and was loved.

Diary, I was allowed to be happy, to be loved and wanted, even though I was crippled and half wasted, I was wanted. I didn’t define myself by what I couldn’t do, I defined myself by my lovers view of me. Regardless of the scars, I was sexy to her, I was wanted by her. I embraced the chair, embraced my form, and built myself a new life, doing everything I enjoyed. Sure, we had to modify things but I was shown by my Laura that I could still be me. I designed clothes, holsters and equipment for the able bodied and disabled audience and concealed weapons in the chair that left the rest of the team green with envy. I was accepted and wanted.

I am still angry Diary, that he took my chance to bear a child away but I spoil my nieces, nephews and the children of the HDI family. I became a big sister, an aunt, a cousin, playing with them, giving rides in the chair and showing them that your identity does not have to be limited by what your physical nature is but you are only limited by your desire to try.

Diary, I am loved, wanted, supported, desired and happy!

 XSiamX

Wife, Lover, Friend, Aunt, Cousin, Sister, Woman. I am all this and more, not a cripple first and this is me. I am happy, and I am new and reborn and loved.

Read part 7 here: Childish Fears
Read part 6 here: Rage Against the Dark
Read part 5 here: Trouble In Paradise
Read part 4 here: Acceptance
Reflections of My Writing
Read part 3 here: Freedom In Hiding
Read part 2 here: Tears Before Bedtime
Read part 1 here: Teaching and Learning

The Game Part 2

Last Thursday we introduced a new author to the group, BAMonster.  This week is the second part to her first contribution,  The Game.  Please leave your comments and let us know what you think!

The Game Pt 2

by

BAMonster

 

 

Bomb or be Bombed

                Again and again pairs went in and either died or disappeared. Right as the twelfth group finished, the god smiled and pointed at me. Gulping, I felt myself float and the next thing I knew I was in the opening ready to run. ‘Oh God. I'm scared. Please god let me make it out of here alive.’ I prayed this over and over again.

                The man whom I was to run against had a mask like the one I had been standing with earlier, though that man had lost and went up in a red smoke. This mask was different. It covered the eyes and allowed his mouth to be seen. His silver teeth shown and I shivered at what he could do. This man looked like a cold –blooded killer.

                When the god said go, I slowly walked out waiting for the maze to change at any moment. I was about twenty meters when I saw the masked man though the other side of the glass. I jumped when he tapped on the glass to get my attention.

                He smiled then reached into his jacket. I tilted my head at this and started to back up. Before I could find my footing, I saw that the man had started to take something out of a ball.  Once that was done, he tossed it over the wall towards me. Startled, I stood still and watched as it rolled towards me. With its weird shape and the happy smile from the man from across the glass, I turned on my heels and sprinted away from the ball. Just as I started to turn, an explosion threw me forward, slamming me into a wall.  As quickly as my legs could go, I picked myself up and turned to face the mess. Glass fell everywhere and I could feel the edges slice into my bare legs, feet, and arms. Through the smoke, the masked man chuckled and crunched the ground as he advanced closer to me. Bursting with fear and adrenalin at facing my death, I crept to the left to try and find my escape. Though shards on the ground sliced into my feet, I kept my eyes on him and stepped lightly. His eyes saw and he grinned, thinking I was going to run.

                Do I? I asked myself. Or do I fight? I looked at the man again, thinking of a plan. If only I could get a bomb like he had before, then I might have an advantage.

                Making up my mind I decided to charge at him. Slippery with blood and glass underneath me it was slightly difficult, but I was able to shove him back some. Though, not enough. I thought to myself. Lashing out my leg, I aimed for his mask trying to cause some kind of damage. Turning, I aimed with my other leg with a pinwheel motion. He dodged and backed up, trying to not let me touch his mask. Stopping mid-way after a kick, I slammed my foot flat on to his chest pushing him over a half broken wall. Gritting his teeth, he lifted his knees and flipped himself backwards and tried to land on his feet but with the back of his legs hurt it was difficult. Rocking back and forth on my feet, I tried to mimic the pony-tail girl's movements when she had bounced.

                I watched the man as he settled into a comfortable position; he reached into his jacket again.  Thinking he was going to pull another ball with a pin; I jerked down, grabbed a few pieces of glass and chucked them at his reaching hand. Only it missed and hit him center below the collar bone. Gasping, I huffed which raised my temper. I missed! Damn it! I missed. Slinging more shards out of my hand, I aimed to stop the man from reaching any further with his hand.

                Grunting, the man had barely any time to reach up with his other hand to take out the first piece of glass when three more came at him. Slicing his cheek, I throw more glass pieces, wedging into his shoulder and his other leg.

                “Fuck it girl. Stop you prissy aiming!” he shouted at me. I gave up throwing and decided to cut him directly. Running towards him, I jumped the broken wall and narrowed the distance between us. Coming in low, I slapped his hands away and aimed for his chest. Over and over again, I stabbed. I just want to leave. I kept telling myself. Leave and live. After a couple of times I started to push harder into his body with the glass knife. Feeling the man's hand punch on me and pull my hair, just attempting to get me away from him and to make the stabbing stop.

                After what seemed like the hundredth stab I backed away and let the man fall amid the  scattered broken glass on the ground. I thought he was trying to hold the cut up chest of his, but I was wrong.  He dug into his jacket once more and pulled the pin, making the ticking start. Smiling, he fell to the floor bleeding, his eyes blank. Running up to grab the now ticking weapon I searched around to find the best choice for it. Even though I wanted the thing, I didn't know what to do with it.

                “Throw it high in the air, Lass!” I heard a rough accented voice yell at me from the center of the maze. Without thinking of disobeying, I did as he asked and shucked the ball in the air as far as I could then bolted in the other direction. I turned corners trying to find the exit, when I heard screams and running feet from the start of the maze then the large bang happened again, only this one was larger.

                Breathing heavy from running around with no sense of direction I stopped and looked back at the smoke seeping into the air at a fast rate. Coughing, I turned and tried to locate my escape route. Before I could get any farther, I felt myself rise up again and I appeared in front of the god.

                “Lovely job, girl.” He smirked as I watched people smoke up into red puffs all around us. Cringing I lowered my head. Aw crap. I could feel the impending doom rise upon me. “Since, it seems that none of you, actually want to race within my maze then lets just head off and let you kill each other off like boring gladiators.” He huffed like the idea wasn't fun at all. Waving his hands the maze was replaced by a glass dome that was empty except for the people inside.

                The ones left were the two skirt men, the pig-tail girl and some man in a white monk’s robe. I looked around and saw that everyone had somehow been ready to fight before they died because most were decked out in fighting gear. The skirt brothers had large swords that were almost the size of themselves plus daggers on their sides. The monk had a long spear and the girl had metal strings wrapped around her wrists and waist. Me on the other hand, was left in a pale pink sleeveless night gown with no protection at all, no weapons but my smooth hands. As I looked down at my hands, I noticed that they were not bleeding from gripping the glass earlier. As a matter of fact, I did not have any cuts on me at all from before. Not even my feet, which I checked. With this, I looked up confused to find the god in front of me.

My Choice

                “Now my dear, you get to go first.” I just gaped at him. I just got done fighting and you want be to go back and fight these warriors? I wasn't made for fighting!”  Sagging, I waited until he pointed to one of the skirt brothers, the nicer looking, without the scar.

                “State your name.” He told the man.

                “Niall Tromchuiseach of Clan Neil.” All I understood from his thick speech was that he was named Neal or Niall. But which ever, it didn't matter because I was going to die.

                “Your name girl.” The god smirked. Sighing, I reached up and grabbed a strand of my hair and started to tug on it.

                “Willow Regina Post.” I didn't look at him as I told the two men. They would be the last to know my name.

                “Alright then! Niall and Willow fight!” I just stood there when the god threw down his arm. I had already given up. I had no chance in the world to win this. Maybe I could with the small girl, but not with these trained men.

                As I waited, I saw that the man didn't move either. Well toward me, he didn't; though when he reached for his weapon, I flinched. Bringing up as much courage as I had,  I opened my mouth and pleaded to him.

                “Make this as painless as possible please. Quick and clean! That is all I ask.” He looked at me confused as he shoved his sword into the ground and crossed his arms.

                “ I will no' do that.” He told me as I could feel deep dread fall upon me.

                I'm going to be slaughtered.

                “Trick god,” the man started again, “I will no' kill a defenseless female.” The god raised his hand to stop him from speaking.

                “Are you saying you forfeit or are you saying to give her a weapon?”

                The question shook me. Was this large man actually willing to not hurt me, surely not? He just felt that the fight wasn't fair. That had to be it.

                “No, Brother do no' do this! One of us needs to live. Don't throw ye life away with no' a fight” This came from the other skirted man. The voice was that of the one that yelled to me inside the maze. Turning my eyes to him his stone-face seemed to be breaking.

                “But she is just a wee lass!” Nail shouted to him as he pointed to me. “She has yet to live a life.”

                ‘How could they be like this? They don't know me. These men don't know what I was raised to be. Why these strangers would be fighting like this, over something so important’. From the decision I had been fighting at from the start of this game; I finally felt like the answer was within reach. ‘I should never have asked for a second chance at life. If that was the end and it wouldn't have killed any more people than me, then that's what I should have done; just me and no more.

                I blanked out at the brother's fight as the god got annoyed and yelled for them to stop.

                “Well” The god growled angrily. “What is it?” He turned to me and I knew I had the final say. “Girl, what is your choice?” The men stared at me both throwing mixed signals so I tried not to focus too much on them.

                “I'll forfeit.” I told them softly.

                “What? Speak louder.” The Trickster ordered.

                “I Forfeit.” I told them strongly.

                “What a waste of time.” The god mumbled as he pouted. His hand went up but just as it made a sound the stone-face man who said not to threw his dagger at my feet.

                “Take it...You’ll need it.” Nodding I quickly picked it up and held it to my chest.  Then with the feeling of blackness, I floated away.

                ‘I won't beg for a second chance. I'll make my own.’ I told myself.

                The dirt started to fly at my closed eyes and I felt it hard to breathe through my nose with all the dust filling the air. Opening my eyes, I looked down to find the dagger closed within my tight grip.                 Once I get out of this, I'll find that stoned-faced man in the skirt and thank him. Even if I have to go to hell to find him; I will tell him his knife was not given in vain.

The End

Rage Against the Dark

How far can Siam push herself, driven by sheer terror?  Will her greatest fears come to pass?  Can her friends bring her back from the darkness she has surrounded herself with?

Rage Against the Dark

 

by

 

Ben Hannigan

Dear Diary,

 Even though Laura and all of the rest of the guys at HDI supported me and attempted to both comfort and protect me, I was scared.  My father was never found in the state though the papers were served at his home, to someone at least.  I was scared of what a confrontation could mean.

It was not a question of whether she was capable of shooting, but more the questions I was asking myself about what that action would bring in its wake.  “Am I good enough, worth her taking a life?” would the image that haunted my dreams come to pass? If she killed for me would she hate me? Would that act be what she saw each day, in my touch, my kiss, my taste?  Or would she feel bound to me and obligated to stay?

Since the hearing I had become focused and withdrawn.  If I wasn’t working, I was practicing.  If not training, I was sleeping or crying in Laura’s arms because I was weak, too weak. I became focused on never feeling trapped again.  Firearms, blades, hand to hand, I devoted my life outside of work into getting better, faster, fitter and stronger. As much as my partner enjoyed the changed me, the extreme changes in my temperament worried her.

I was focused, aggressive, and would only let myself be touched when I was too weak to move.  I barely slept , barely ate, all I could focus on was the fact I couldn’t let myself be trapped again. Laura talked to me and begged me to slow down.  She feared I would burn out, crash and fall or hurt myself as my sessions got more and more violent, going through each member of the team’s styles and skills  at a crushing, unrelenting pace.  I pushed her and her fears away as I focused more and more on my training and still she stayed. I only allowed her to help when I was exhausted, hurt and broken, yet still she stayed. Through each self-destructive day she stayed.

My work was influenced by this change.  I was more focused and spent more time on my designs. However, they moved away from the area I had been working on for the six months before the incident. The designs were much less cute college girl that carries for protection and much more militaristic in their designs;  less focused on defence,  more offensive in nature,  Rather than pepper spray containers in modified Coach or Versace purses, it was hidden blades in boots and pendants, the big elaborate butterfly hairclips hiding a set of punch daggers and hidden ceramic blades behind belt buckles. All best sellers, all evil. Everything from handcuff key bracelets to spiked kubaton ear gauges.  My look was that of a long haired militant, black combats, light Addidas sparring pumps.  I was even weaving spiked hooks into my plait to prevent my “daddy” from doing his favourite hair dragging trick. I had ceased to be a woman, but a rather a weapon first. In the year since the attack, I had stopped writing to you, too scared, too exhausted, I don’t know.  Yet, still she loved me and still she stayed.

The others knew why she stayed, but I was horrible to them, I know this now. The day that I realised the damage I was doing to her and to myself was the day that I had sent Laura crying away from me, because she attempted to stop me from training in some of the more dangerous ways I had resorted to.  Determined to find something ,anything to protect me from those men who outweighed me, outgunned me and  could throw me across a room with barely any effort.  The men who would have no qualms dragging me home to my father’s domain and having me sectioned until I did as he desired. Lucy had attempted to talk to me as I worked the speed bag, ignoring her. Sophie stepped in as my regular sparring partner, All the while we traded blows asking me to talk to Laura, to slow down to stop pushing. They didn’t know that if I stopped pushing, I would fall apart.

We were in the gym/dojo at the office.  The facility we used for testing security of retention of holsters and other equipment and also for honing the techniques we taught in our video’s, a new portion of the business that my extreme pushing had brought us into.  The idea was showing different styles and how to choose a style of training based on form, build, and gender.

It had been a bad day.  I was this avenging figure, this “angel of death” as some of the viewers of our training films had nicknamed me.  I was terrified, based on a sighting of a man I swore was my attempted rapist.  My sparring had crossed the line between sparring and fighting long before this day but it was harder and nastier due to the recent sighting of the man who tried to rape me in the city by the police enforcing the restraining order. I was therefore fighting harder than ever and my sparring changed because of it.  Not even making a pretence of pulling blows anymore, I was fighting purely and simply fighting to hurt my opponent. Sophie hit by me first in the throat and I snapped.  The fight wasn’t about practice now, it was me in fear for my life. I kicked her hard across the temple forcing her to stagger back and then with a beautifully executed palm-heel strike attempting to drive her nose through the back of her skull. As she hit the padded wall, her blood soaking the wraps I wore.  Everyone else in the room stepped back, watching in what I assume now was fear as I removed the two punch daggers from the butterfly hairpiece. What I didn’t know was that Ben had witnessed this session from the start and he knew then as did Laura that I had gone, lost myself in the terror of being trapped again.

Ben, as well as our government licensed firearms dealer and gunsmith, was one of the best instructors we had.  Gentle and protective, none of us expected what happened.  He nodded to Laura as she stood impassively watching what was happening and said one phrase “It’s time.”  She clapped her hands once as a signal and everyone left bar Ben and me.

They were watching, I found out later, but for that moment I was completely alone with him. From what I was told later, Laura knelt and prayed to any god that would listen. She prayed out loud, prayed for me as a lover, for me as a person in my own right who deserves to live, not be trapped inside my fears.  She prayed that Ben could drive me out of this bleak cold outer shell, this mental and emotional amour, that he could force me to confront my anger and my fear.  But not only that, she prayed that we would both survive the attempt. She knew he was better as a fighter, but she also knew the danger posed by a cornered mouse. More worryingly, she thought as she prayed for my safety and my return to her, she knew that I at that point was prepared to die.  As long as I wasn’t captured by my father, forced into a life of beatings and mental abuse designed to break me as he had my mother and mold me into a life of slavery, bound to an owner, his manager’s son.  That animal, the “man”, he had chosen for me to become the toy used to sate his desire, to clean for, to cook for and be fucked by. She prayed for this mad plan that was the final resort, that this would work; that it would  break the personality I was using as a shield before it killed me.

I stood impassive, dripping sweat and blood from my lip and watched him, armed with a pair of daggers I held pointed at him warily backing away in terror at this man who could easily undo all my hard work.  He looked at me with a disappointed look. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry this has to happen, but this needs to end.   I have to break this rage to get you to speak to us and since I am the only one who can do it, it’s my job. For this moment we are alone, all weapons we have trained with are useable.  We are using semi sharp blades and full contact. I need you angry.  Not cold, but angry.”

I spat at him “Tough, we don’t get what we want. I want my old life with Laura. I want to feel safe.”

He didn’t speak then in response to my comment, he just hit me exactly as I had hit his partner. I staggered back, tasting blood before I returned the blow.  I hit low as he turned away, feeling his jaw crunch with the impact.  He kicked my knee from under me and I dodge-rolled before launching a leg sweep, giving me time to get to the table .  Grabbing a single commando fighting dagger whilst he took a bowie.  It was nothing but clashes of steel and trading punches.  Neither of us getting anywhere; he had power, I had speed and a total lack of care about being hurt. It was nasty blows connecting, leaving us seeing stars yet it didn’t stop. He kicked the blade from my grasp after a knee to the gut winded me.  He threw his down and away before striking me with an Escrima stick.  I whimpered in pain, feeling the bamboo possibly shatter the bone.  I stood and hit him with a staff aiming blows for the knee and calf.

 He proceeded to prove exactly why he was the head instructor.  He began to toy with me, taking my defences apart blow by blow.  Not saying a word, just striking and waiting. I was broken, sweating, bleeding and all I could see Diary, was him not smiling, not gloating, just doing what he had to do to stop me.

 Finally, I as almost spent, blood covered and hurting, weak and useless,  was curled on the floor and could barely move. But, clawing my way across the mat, I dragged myself to my feet and threw myself at him.  I over balanced him through more surprise than skill, and I wasn’t fighting anymore.  This was more animal than artist.  I clawed, bit, kicked, and scratched.  I found myself gripping him by the head in order to pound his head into the ground.  I stopped because something in the room had changed.

I heard the door open and it was Laura. She had come running after hearing me whimpering like a wounded pet, and had come to stop this.  She was shaking and crying, begging Ben to stop that this price was too high to pay, that she couldn’t watch him systematically take me apart.  I stopped even trying to hold him down and saw myself in the mirror.  I was nearly naked, torn clothes and hurt. Blood and sweat everywhere.  Ben was bruised and scratched.   I let go of his head and collapsed into myself and howled.

 I was barely human I think, howling with rage, pain, grief, and loss. I had let them win and lost myself. I buried myself into the shirt in front of me, sobbing huge cries that wracked my body.  I was surprised when two arms wrapped around me.  The man I had been intent on murdering by tearing his throat out, was holding me.   My lover, the woman I wanted to marry for lack of a better word, stood holding me from behind as I shook. I heard footsteps slapping across the floor as Lucy and Sophie came and joined the group.   As they held me, I cried myself into exhaustion;  cried for the time I had lost, for the things I had, said just mumbling apologies over and over, calling myself worthless ,and that I should leave and never ruin their lives any more.

I felt us moving and somewhere during my begging to be allowed to leave, I felt water raining down.  Bleary eyed, I realised we were in the shower.  It was just us, the core group of HDI and we were together.  I felt a pair of lips catch mine.  I was kissed, bathed, a tongue exploring me and holding me. Then it changed.  Three new tastes and feels, Laura holding me stroking me, bathing me, as the others kissed me.

“We are not letting you go Siam, we all love you.  Maybe not like Laura loves you.” The lilting tones of Lucy our New Yorker who came to Chicago with her parents who followed me south to be my support spoke softly.  At that moment, Laura bit my earlobe playfully and I shook with desire.

“It may not be full on spend the rest of our lives’ together love,” added Ben in his smooth Irish influenced drawl as I gasped  feeling a new, unfamiliar hardness pressed against my tummy insistently.

At my gasp, Laura nudged my legs apart gently and whispered, “Just enjoy this, think of it as a welcome home party.”

Here her southern drawl got louder for the others to hear. “Love is many things my darling, and we all love you.  These two monsters have wanted you since high school, something about the way you wore a white dress in the summer.” I blushed and moaned at the feeling of being filled and kissed by the three.

Sophie, the final member of the trio and the last to speak in her curious blend of British English and Chicago suburbs added, “We want you home Siam.  We have missed you.  We know why you retreated into this form, but we want you home with us, not hiding behind a butch bitch.  Who is sexy as hell, but fucking scary.”

I apologised to them all many times as I floated higher and higher as they touched me, Being filled by finger, cock, and toy, surrounded by not just my lover, but my friends. It was love that filled me, not just being physically filled.  I kissed the scratches and bites on Ben’s body and apologised for the tears and the pain, especially to Sophie for breaking her nose and to my Laura, my darling Laura for leaving by running into this hiding place.  As I lost myself in this endless outpouring of love, I was filled by Ben with a gasp and a kiss before being brought down by the group as I collapsed into their arms. They took me home to Laura’s the place I saw as home and just held me through the night.

The next morning Diary, I talked with the three.  I apologised properly, rationally, now I had  two decent meals and proper rest.   They understood,  supported me and just let me talk; about my fears, my dreams, about the fact I hadn’t really allowed myself to grieve for what was in my eyes the death of my family, and the worry that I was a bad girl for shattering my family in that way. They supported me and loved me, just protecting me.

At the end of the conversation I asked if they would still have taken me in the shower the day before this all hadn’t happened.  Lucy, Sophie and Ben all blushed whilst Laura roared with laughter, trying to explain between choking giggles that they were all planning to do it for my birthday and they were handing me an offer to join them in bed occasionally, with Laura admitting she had considered it occasionally, but was waiting for my view. I kissed Ben slowly and asked him to be gentle with us, both acting the sweet coquettish innocent southern belle.

He just smirked and replied “Yes Ms Monroe.” And so, my mature reasoned response was to throw a bread roll at him. Before it degenerated any further, we headed to work where I had something important to do. I took a deep breath and entered the packed office where everybody  on the staff bar the three accompanying me were waiting.  Laura held my hand encouragingly as I began to speak.

“Hi everybody.  Firstly, all I can say is Oh god’s I am so sorry. ” I let a tear run down my cheek still unused to letting emotion show again and I took a deep breath before continuing. “I got scared and ran, ran away, pushed myself into an image I could hide behind. I was self-destructive, spiteful and horrible to all of you.  Scaring you, being aggressive, arrogant and a danger to both me and all of us, in all honesty because I pushed too hard through fear. I don’t deserve to still be here, being loved by the family that we have here at HDI.  I screwed up guys, big time and I need to say I’m sorry. I don’t want you to forgive me if you don’t feel I deserve it.  But if you hate me after this,  just know I love you all and I never meant for this to happen.  I wish I could change it, wish I had been stronger, more able to ask for help.”

I broke down and cried in the office, sobbing, slumped in my partners arms as I apologised. The crew and the whole family of HDI saw the terrified little girl that I was underneath the mask they had seen for the previous year. They came to me in ones and twos, careful not to overwhelm me with comforting words of support.  Everyone accepted me Diary, and they wanted me here.   I am home here Diary and I am staying here as the me that this place brought out; confident playful, confident sexually, artsy and just well, one hundred percent me!  I swear I am not going to let my father or my blood relations damage me or my friends any more. I will write to you again and I will live my life, not in fear but for me and my true family.

 

XSiamX

Trouble In Paradise

Dear Diary,

Work had accepted the new change really quickly, just teasing us both and winding me up to the point where my pouncing on Laura became a semi-regular occurrence. Especially with Sophie and Lucy hugging me and repeating their comment from the day I came out to the team. They especially loved doing it when they found me undressing for photo shoots.  Yeah, did I forget that bit? Since I was small and cute the team had begun using me for photos in catalogues and advertisements for our products, so on a regular basis I was everything from a HSLD Operator modelling the latest in gucciness on the battlefield to a demure college student packing a concealed pistol in my jacket.  The team didn’t bat an eyelid at the demure genteel me popping into meetings, dragging Laura out of them midsentence only for her to wander back in fifteen to twenty later with a lazy self-satisfied cat like grin; the grin of a cat that’s just eaten the neighbours budgie.

I was already part of the family, but me beginning to date sealed the deal.  Though, I did have the terrifying conversation with the couple we all considered “mom and pop” of the organization. Ben, the guy who helped me get out of my home had taken to being the FFL and gunsmith of the joint like a duck to water.  He said “I took the job to keep an eye on you”, but everyone knew he was happy here and had been working for the company for a long time before he knew me as his partner’s friend. He and Sophie sat me down one day in the office after work and said . . .

 I still remember exactly what they said to this day, Diary.

 “Look, be honest with us.  Is Laura you finding yourself, or rebelling, or are you wanting this properly? We have known Laura a long time and Ben has worked for HDI for a long time. We stuck our necks on the line for you in both getting you this job and hoping Laura would listen and see if you were willing. She really likes you and we don’t want her hurt.”

For such soft people they were fucking scary diary! 

Little did I know until later than night talking to Laura on Skype from the lavender bubble bath I was ensconced in, while she lounged in bed waiting for me to arrive, that they had sat her down and done exactly the same thing.  Same phrasing, same threats, right down to the ‘if you hurt her we will flay you’ speech.

Even though we spent most of our time together, for convenience and quite frankly because we were too happy having our own spaces to chill and relax in, we kept separate houses. Though generally we could be found entwined in one or the other’s home. I had barely thought about my old life in the time I have been with Laura, mainly because I was happy, work was good fun, and I was kept busy.

That all changed one day in the autumn. I had just returned from my first solo negotiation and it had gone really well so I was on a high.  I had managed to get our concealed magazine notebook into a prominent television crime show and was bouncing with excitement. The team had gone mental when they found out who would be carrying out product. I was hugged and plied with booze at the congratulations party.

I returned to my second home in a cab, Laura was with me and we were both giggly drunk. We had settled into a comfortable routine I paid for the cab as she unsteadily unlocked the door, agreeing with the cabbie that my love had a fantastic arse. I walked to the door and found her asleep on the sofa snoring the snore of the very drunk. Laughing to myself but also pouting because I was very frustrated, I curled up with her under a blanket.

It was early morning when I heard a banging sound on the front door.  I groaned, it was four thirty in the morning. I ignored it as best I could, rolling over intending to go back to bed. Well, I was going to but my lover was awake and hungry so she had other ideas. I would have argued, but she was doing that thing with her tongue that I loved so much.

 I was laid naked on my sofa, begging and panting as she flicked her tongue across my arsehole and still the banging continued. I was shaking, gasping, and whimpering her name as I exploding from an orgasm and mewled to her “Now that’s a fantastic fucking way to start the day!” Kissing her hard before diving between her legs. Where Laura preferred to start my day with an explosive orgasm, I was more patient. I wanted her to want me, needed her to need me, I wanted her craving more and hyped for the day to come. My attacks at work were pounding rough and explosive in their intensity because I found the limits of time, space, and practical to carry tools a huge turn on. But the first of the day . . . Ah, that was special, gentle loving and always all me.

I started slowly, my tongue on her left ankle, swirling over her protruding bone. Looping my tongue around her before kissing my way up her calves and nibbling behind her knee. I moved up her body to her nipples and suckled her gently and passionately. Still the banging continued. I licked across and around her breasts slowly, then faster, kissing my way down her tummy towards her centre; my tongue sucking, diving into her deep, but doing it agonizingly slowly.

 I am patient and gentle, my movements like the cat tattooed on my thigh, stalking my prey as her arousal peaks and her clit stiffens. My prey is revealed and I pounce, taking it deep into my mouth sucking it hard until my lover howled my name, orgasming. Still, the pounding continued.

Holding her as we both come down, we are naked, sweaty, but sated. The banging is beginning to register. It was too precise to be nature diary, so we thought we should take a look. We dressed in pjs and walked together to the door, me with the sig sauer that I had borrowed from my lover on the first day, her with the UMP45 that she shot so well. Both wearing suppresser’s, she covered me as I opened the door.

There were four people there that I had never expected to see again: my father, my mother, the man they planned to be my husband, and my father’s friend, the Chicago police officer who handled people being taken for psychiatric analysis. I froze and dropped the pistol. Laura stepped up to the door unafraid, with the weapon slung behind her back.

 

My father spoke first. “Move bitch! I am taking my daughter back to Chicago.” He then turned to me and said, “Get your things, you are coming home and getting married. If you fight, my friend is here to take you by force.  You cannot fight this. You will do as I desire.”

I just sat, tremors shooting through me in fear of going back with that animal. He took a step forward as if to drag my through the door. Laura calmly stood blocking him and swung the smg up and trained it at the man who was frightening me.

“Leave my property! I do not want you here, and I really do not like being threatened. You have been recorded and I will be reporting this to the police.”

I saw my father raise his hand as if to push the gun away and I snapped. I don’t know why Diary, but I saw red. I swept the pistol up from the floor and stepped forward, pointing it at him.

“Leave father, and never return. I am not a toy for you to bargain with, and if you come back here again, I WILL defend myself. Bringing a friend to drag me back, claiming I’m insane . . . that’s cute, but won’t fly, especially now that we know your intent.”

He ranted and raved Diary, telling me he knew I was insane. He called me a whore, and attacked me for threatening him, and for cavorting with a slut. He said how he knew I was insane because I was disobeying him. The others nodded their agreement that he was right. He stepped forward saying “You will get in the car and come home and do as you are told!”

When he reached to grab my hair, I fired. I aimed low and hit him in the arm, the nine millimetre round piercing his bicep and he slumped in pain. “Get my father away from here and never come here! Never darken my life again.” Whilst I stood in almost shock, watching him half carried, half dragged by my family, my lover phoned the police.

The rest of the day was a blur of statements and evidence taken with the recording equipment used over and over to replay the event.  Copies were made, and finally I stood, shaking, still in my pajama’s and a hoody of Laura’s in front of a judge, who granted a restraining order.  He told me “You did well and have nothing to worry about.”

The officers were lovely, making me cups of tea, generally being supportive, and taking my mind off the event by asking for signed copies of catalogues and taking guns and tack gear with me. While waiting for the court to free so I could get the order, I sketched a few designs. Several of the cops had asked me for in an effort to distract me, promising to see about production.

Laura had phoned work whilst I was filling in the forms with the clerk and by the time I had returned to her, the house was full. The front room was filled with duvets, sleeping bags and pillows. The whole crew had come down, everyone from Lucy to Lori. All were here to, in their words, ‘keep me calm and protected.’ They knew that my safe space had been violated and understood I needed the support. Those who had family on the force were keeping watch on my relatives and until they left the area, I was told, the guys would be staying with me. Laura’s house was huge thankfully; big enough for the whole crew, their families, and assorted hangers on.

We were piled into her main room.  Me surrounded by this love, watching “Blue Harvest” of all things. The only thing that was abnormal for this being a sleepover, was the amount of weapons on display and within reach.

We had men with ar15’s, women with shotguns, the children, most of who had grown to either teen or on the cusp since I had met them, with a mix of whatever they preferred to shoot. Adorably, the youngest members of the HDI clan, Izzy and Bella decked out in the outfits I had made for them for Halloween the week before. A 4 year old and a 3 year old in uniform with HDI patches carrying NERF pistols in holsters. Between them and “Rabbit” Manning were weilding NERF beltfeds.

 And I lay in the arms of the woman I love Diary, and fretted. I appreciated what they were trying to do and I knew I was safe, but still . . .

 I was rattled and scared, but eventually I drifted off as they slept in shifts and kept watch.

XSiamX