The Candle

 Laying in the darkness listening to the songbirds, I thought of the life and the loves, a new relationship bursting into life, the flames and intensity of fresh passion. . . 

(Storytime does not own copyrights to this image.)

The Candle

by

Ben Hannigan

The candle flickered as the two girls ate, lit at the start of the meal they shared.  It was an anniversary, the candle a dark, rich red, unscented; the flame licking at the air as they shared the wine. The venison rare and rich, the dark chocolate truffles melting on the tongue as they talked into the night, the kisses they shared tasting of the meal and each other. One smoking a pipe the other content with the wine as they talked, the candle pressed into service to light and relight the pipe as the flame still licked at the air.

Neither remembered who kissed who first but they both remember that hunger and that pull as they moved from the chairs to the bed. The fire that pulsed through them and that heady arousal, Louise’s body a healthy tan -- that of an outdoor girl -- contrasting beautifully with Lara’s in the candlelight. Her body a squiggle of cream on the dark bedspread, her lover grinning to herself as the black silk ties contrasted against her pale wrists. Once she was bound and under her control, Louise began the slow, languid, torturous movements she favoured, nipping and licking from neck to ankles before her mouth nipping, licking, sucking and starting to devour the younger girl as some sort of dessert. The sounds her treat was making; a mix of heady gasps, whimpers and begging howls. She saw that candle still licking at the air and grinned, her hand snaking out of the bed to remove the candle from the heavy brass candelabra.

During the Raising of the candle all Lara could see was this floating tongue of flame dancing across the air, nervous and unsure what was to happen she watched from her position bound on the bed. Louise slowly, gently leaning the candle forward and they both breathless with anticipation watched the bead of wax drip off the candle. Almost in slow motion the wax hanging in the air before it splashed onto the younger girls breast, the red wax spreading and oozing before hardening. The flash of heat and pain stinging and causing indrawn gasps and whimpers of shock and desire through her, almost begging for more as the second drop landed. Her back arching and writhing as her teasing lover slowly worked the wax lower leaving a trail of redness splashed across her bare white skin. The candle moving closer, lower and lower moving inextricably towards her wetness the candle had half burned down as Louise presented what she had decided would be the last drop of wax. Lara laid there, her back arched, staring into her lovers eyes as she watched that last drop slowly fall towards her clit. The wax landing on her lithe body and engulfing her in a fire, the warmth sucking her up and into an explosion of lust and desire, as the wax cooled it bound her clit tightly in a vice-like grip squeezing her as she shook and spasmed with lust; craving anything, more, a touch, a kiss, anything to keep this going. Her mewling howls had startled Louise who smartly jerked causing the flame to splutter and die before she dived into her lover’s body peeling the now solid wax from her skin the tugging sending shudders of pleasure through Lara as she calmed.

Grinning, she dove  into the girl’s wetness once more as she begged for more, leaving her clit bound and imprisoned in this waxy tightness. Crawling up her body Louise ground into her as Lara begged for more. She whimpered with need as Louise rode her, their wet slits sliding  across each other. Testing the candle and finding it cool to the touch,  she used her weight to hold the girl down.  She pushed her virgin rosebud onto the candle, working it into her, feeling her contract and beg to be untied, beg to be kissed, and beg to wrap her arms around the woman she loved. Once, twice, three times she rocked and bounced into Louise and gasped again, screaming for more before it ended and she went limp, pressing gentle kisses across Louise’s throat, losing herself into a shaking mess of desire.

Special Deliver: The Artisan collection Pt 3

Are you enjoying this sinfully delicious treat by our own artisan Ben Hannigan?  He certainly has a way of wetting my appetite.  Don't forget to sign up for our Valentine's Day giveaway!

Now, let's see what the artisan is up to today!
Did you miss the first parts?  You can catch up here:

Passion of the Artisan Confectioner (Pt 1)
Of Crystal Glasses and Rich Red Velvet (Pt 2)

Special Delivery

Today when you rushed home you saw as you expected, a package from the artisan.  For you now at this time, it had become a game, a courtship of sorts. You give him a request for an item and wait, he returns days later with a delivery.

Gently as to slow the moment you tug the bow, the package unravels itself, the elegant bow sliding apart with lace and satin almost sinfully like the opening of some secret delicate flower. Even opening his gifts sent shivers of desire through you.

In this package there was no note, no description other than a single word “touch”.

 Closing your eyes you remove the first garment, a pair of almost sheer stockings, silk and soft, slowly sliding up your milk white legs to your thighs, due to the resting place of the package, each thigh being sucked and engulfed by an eager wet soft mouth.

The next a garter, lace and ribbon which you tie across your thighs.

The next a camisole which again, slick, silk, sliding over soft skin, the material engulfing your sensitive figure with this eager sucking warmth. Your nipple teased into stiff peaks by the contact and as you tighten the last ribbon you realise there is something very special. The internal nipple clamp that you have pulled tight gripping teasing and driving you into desperate whimpering shudders.  But you press on.  You can’t stop.  You wont stop.  You must, but you mustn’t.

The last item, figure hugging hipster cut underwear, sliding fast and hot up the silk and slipped on without thinking, causing you to cry out in shock and delicious pleasure.  The inside of the panties feeling hot, tingling and teasing as you feel and fumble for the box you read the label warning that the panties are impregnated with a serum that upon body contact release a cream to tingle and tease you. Wet and aching with need you follow the instructions finding the ribbon leading from each nipple and tying them as instructed to the small nub in the panties.  As soon as the knot pulls true you realise the terrible magnificent truth. The clamp opening to grip the clit as you can’t and won’t stop this, this sensual, sexual torment. The clamp gripping not hard but not soft and each time you writhe and rock, it’s tugging upon your nipples, which tugs your clit and leaves you tremoring, shaking, mewling, screaming in a puddle of passion and bliss.  

Alone in your armchair recovering from an orgasm brought about from a shadow of a partner, known only by their title and the signature.

  

Artisan

Swingers - Pt 3

Are you entranced by the magical spell woven in this tale yet? I sure am.  I can't wait for each installment, anxious for the next weekly post.  Wow, do they know how to have fun or what?

We've heard Colb's side of things, this week we get to hear from Tangyr.

Swingers Pt 3

by

Abyrne Mostyn

Tangyr fought hard to keep the smirk from becoming a giggle. She knew she had Colb’s attention, not because she could see the evidence of his need jutting through the loose trews he favored, but because of his breathing...or lack thereof. The odd hitch betraying him even before she heard the exhale as she turned to close her door. No matter what the scenario, she could always tell when she heard that catch; it was almost as if he could do nothing but a long, slow, shallow inhaling and that was not enough to fuel him so he never let it out again. After a spell there would be a mad ‘whoosh’, a hard heavy sighing sound as he had to let go some air for there to be room for more.

Making sure to give a sashay of her hips as she began to reach for the handle, she knew that he was well on his way to their morning rendezvous when his breathing caught. The moment protracted, ending when the film of her linen shift stirred with the hard exhale he had no choice but to let out from across the hall. Breathe or pass out; as of yet breathing had always won. They had lingered long enough and she softly closed the door fighting to stifle the fit of laughter vying for the surface. His erratic breathing in these moments always giving him away.

Almost from the night they had met she had started to piece together what would drive him and what he could do without, all by listening to him breathe.  From the first they had possessed an electric connection.  The kind of meeting where you shake hands and do the nicey-nice but somewhere between the clasping of hands and the letting go part you missed the words because you learned everything you needed to know about them by touching. His breath had caught in that moment and her whole body had nearly shuddered.  It was what she imagined finding the other half of yourself was like.

That party was the first that they had been together, the pull to be so close to one another that it was nearly impossible to tell where one began and the other ended was irresistible. Choosing a partner for the night a forgone conclusion, and saying goodbye in the morning a sorrow not familiar to swingers. Maybe it was the moonlight. Maybe it was the drumming. Whatever it was, it was intense. Although they had re-enacted that night many times; in the loft, in a long forgotten wood-ringed meadow, in every conceivable place they had been; it was never the same as that first night; sometimes it was better.

It had been a September bonfire party. Fall had come early that year and the evening was crisp with smells from the on-gong harvests. The group had gathered at a member’s barn a few miles outside of town. The fire already ablaze when she first saw it, and roaring its call by the time they had all arrived and were gathered round it. Men had been given implements for drumming; women, Murphy bells, they danced and drummed well into the night under a full moon.

Colb had held a gourd looking thing with taught skin of some kind across the opening for the drum head, and it released a higher pitch than those around him when he struck it. She knew every time as she went past the moment when he noticed her as his drumbeat was suddenly out of rhythm. Rhythm required breathing. It was hard not to giggle at the realization. Even now sitting here getting ready for another party, she could not stifle the giggles and let out a loud bit of laughter, slamming her hand across her mouth too late to stop it echoing.

That night had seemed to end in the space of that drumbeat. They had retired to a secluded area, and just a moment later it has seemed to be daybreak and time to go. Swinging had never been somber, but that morning had defined it. The temerity of the night underscored by his parting demand, “Tell me your name.”

The months to the following March gathering seemed endless. It should have been December but they were not in the same area for that party. The antithesis of the time it took the first night to end, she’d aged an eternity waiting to see him again. Seemingly he had too by the ‘starving man offered bread’ look on his face when she walked into the party . The room seemed to heave a collective sigh as they released their baited breath in unison, turning back to their respective conversations. A beeline would have taken too long to reach him and yet she tried to make her path to him seem random. She failed. He failed. They met in the middle of the room and found that with so much hanging between them they had no idea what to say, instead clasping hands and letting what was between them do the talking.

They knew in that moment that there was no way they could continue coming on someone else’s arm, hoping to be in the same group to see one another and immediately sought the host. Before the night was ended, hearts were broken while theirs connected. None would lose their invitation to come, but all would be banned if there were any lingering animosities come June. They left the gathering and their partners before dawn broke, the first and last time they were together in and out of the party.

Sitting back on the settee this night, her giggles and smirking resolving to a well fulfilled smile, she knew that had been one of the best decisions of their lives. Was it destined to be? Or was it circumstance? The September moon? The music and dancing? The protracted, anguishing wait for March hoping then to see one another again? Whatever it was it was something. It was everything; and yet it was so much more.

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

Faere Warrior: Passion's Price Conclusion

Fate and Karma are mere children compared to Fae sense of justice.  Meted out in rations against humans, or anyone that dares to interfere with their master plan, cruelty was first learned at the hand of the Fae by human kind.  The Great agreement was not made to protect humans, but insure their eventual victory.

 

Faere Warrior: Passion's Price

Conclusion

by

Ellie Mack

 

Chapter 9

            Queen Aeswitha stood to announce her final decision.  It had taken 20 minutes of deliberation by the council to come to a unanimous decision.  Twenty minutes in Faery, translated to weeks in the human realm.

“The creature mormo, known as Siann shall be cast in prison, and questioned for any information we may obtain pertaining to Prince Brogann.”  She banged her scepter on the marble tile.

“As to the Guardian of the clan McIntyre, Keegan Alistaire McIntyre, currently at warrior status, shall be administered a half dose of elixir to preserve his life.  If however, he turns to our dark Fae brethren as a result of the poisoning, he shall be hunted and killed with the Spear of Luhn.”  She banged her scepter once more.

“Guards shall be doubled at our prison, and wards shall be increased to hold Prince Brogann.  He remains within bodily.”  She hesitated, choosing not to speak any further information about his condition, then tapped her scepter.

“Finally, the slayer known as Selena Mubarak shall be stripped of the cuffs, which are the cuffs of Nuada, first king to our race, conqueror of the Firbolg. She shall be destroyed by the spear of Luhn, bound by blood runes to Prince Brogann as wife and concubine; as such guilty of treason to the Fae High court.”  She tapped her scepter once more.  “The cuffs shall be brought to Faery, and remain in the treasury until the time when our contract ends.”

“These edicts shall be executed this day.”

            The Queen sat in a slump.  It took a lot of her magic to make edicts.  By the power of her title every word she spoke while holding the scepter came to pass.  Leevander stepped forward, kissing his mother’s hand before he saw her laws carried out.

 

 

                         *                                *                                  *                                  *

 

 

            Siann was taken to the lower levels of the prison, those reserved for the lower caste Unseelie.   The guards questioned, extracting every bit of information they could before destroying the miserable wretched creature.  Siann had served Prince Brogann for twelve centuries, before that she had served King Vortigen.

            It was uncertain if they could have saved her, but the Seelie had little use for the grotesque castes of Unseelie.  With a perverse pleasure at seeing her torture, the Seelie Fae showed themselves to be no better than their darker brethren.  In many instances they were often more cruel. The guards laughed, watching as the pitiful creature writhed in agony for hours until death finally came.

            Leevander’s servant women were tending Keegan when the Queen’s aid arrived.    Their constant touching, bathing, caressing, and kissing; hoping that he would awaken so they could be pleasured by him, was brought to a swift halt. Examining the puncture wounds on his leg, the elder Fae made an incision, knowing that no scar would remain after the administration of the elixir.  Keegan was treated roughly, as a tool that had malfunctioned and could be easily replaced.  It was more expedient to fix the broken one than to replace it, luckily for Keegan.

Leevander carried the half dose of elixir.  It wouldn’t be enough to grant immortality, but the unnatural longevity went along with their service to the Fae.  Keegan’s longevity would just last a little longer than most, but not be granted the immortality that his Uncle Robert had.  Once Lee administered the elixir, Keegan began to stir.  The Fae women continued their caresses and ministrations. 

            Keegan woke quickly, aware of his arousal and the Fae women by his side.  He was also well aware of the addictive factor to Fae/human sex.  Some never recovered, some chose to stay in Faery as their toys.  The temptation was there;  sex like you’ve never experienced that would literally blow your mind.  Far more powerful than any illicit drug, Fae sex was never meant for humans.

             “Get me the fuck out of here! Of all places, why did you bring me here and how much of my life have you stolen now?”  He was furious.

            Keegan snapped out of his haze to see Leevander standing, arms crossed staring smugly at him. “What the hell?  What have you done to me you faery wanker?  Get me the fuck out of here! Of all places, why did you bring me here and how much of my life have you stolen now?”  He was furious.

            Lee chuckled.  “I saved your arse again.”  He spoke in the ancient Fae tongue to the women and they sulked away.  “Now if you’re ready to get off your lazy arse we’ve work to attend.”

            Keegan didn’t even argue, just sat up, raked his fingers through his hair and followed Lee without any argument.  When he translated back to his apartment; nearly four months had passed.  Time in Faery always passed slower than in the human realm.  Leevander had paid his rent, and dropped him from his classes.  Lee sat with Keegan and explained how things were with the momo. It was harder to convince him about Selena. 

            He froze mid sentence.  The portal had been opened. This time they were ready for the slayer.  He pushed the sword into Keegan’s hand as they transported to the portal beneath the Golden Gate Bridge.   The rocks crumbled away as dozens of imp-like creatures poured from the dark depths.  They barely advanced two before Keegan was upon them, sending them back. 

Lee spotted Selena coming around the far side of the bridge.  He motioned the guards who had made themselves invisible to hold her.   Keegan worked in his skilled dance, banishing the Unseelie in a seemingly effortless display.

            “Stop!  You’re not helping!  They’ll just come back.”  It was Selena.  Keegan turned towards her, seeing her struggling against the two Fae guards.

            “Well, well.  If it isn’t queen of the damned.  Oh, or is that queen Mubarak?  No wait, mistress of the dark.  Or how about  Mistress of Misery? Yeah that one fit’s. We’ll stick with that one, Mistress.” He took two long strides to stand in front of her. “I just want to know one thing.  Why Selena?”  His jaws clenched in anger. He slashed the sword, catching two straggling Unseelie in his peripheral vision.

 

            Selena struggled in the guards grasps.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stilled, seeing the pain on his face.

            “Don’t play coy with me Salena, it’s unbecoming. Sicking that Unseelie creature on me? That was low.”  He wiped the sweat from his brow and flung it to the ground.  His burr thickening as he spoke. “Obviously you aren’t as innocent in matters as you’d want me to believe.  I just want to know one thing.  Did you decide to kill me yourself?  Or did your Master, Prince Brogann order you to do it?”

            “What? What are you talking about?  I never tried to kill you.”

            “It’s a little late to be tellin’ lies.  He turned and walked away from her a few steps then stopped.  “You know, it’s funny.  I thought I’d found a real treasure in you.  I thought I loved you.  I was obsessed night and day with seeing you again, and when I did you nearly killed me.”  He threw a stone into the bay. “Only to find out ye’re a back stabbing bitch working for the Dark Prince.  That’s rich.  Yeah the jokes on me, now isn’t it?  I hope you enjoyed your little game, ‘cause there won’t be a next time.”

            He stormed away, leaving Salena between the guards, letting Lee deal with her.  Lee took the cuffs first, then her Ankh pendant.  Lee spoke the ancient language, breaking her glamour spell. 

“Sher en hachth; du bien a’ nalle; nuchthreit  Sher doch im hath neyet, etren dub naucht. ”

            Keegan turned back, her glamour stripped.  She was covered in runic tattoos and glyphs.  Slowly her features were fading from beauty to a time ravaged hideous form.   Lee took the spear from the sheath and stabbed her in the heart. Keegan turned away at her screams and kept walking down the shore tossing rocks as the tears flowed unbidden,  a piece of his heart dying with her.

            Lee caught up with him some time later with a six pack. “It’s done.” 

            “Aye”  Keegan accepted one of the beers.  They sat on the rocks staring out over the bay in silence for some time.

            “Don’t suppose you’d be amused by older women jokes?”

            “That’d be right.” 

When the beers were gone they walked in silence back to the bridge to seal the portal.

 

                        *                                  *                                  *                                  *

 

            Brogann fell to the floor.  They thought to kill his beloved.  He couldn’t have that, all his plans all the suffering would be for naught.   He blocked out the stabbing pain he felt from their connection.  Every bit of effort he could muster, he projected himself to his faithful servant Slede.  Slede  was a were creature.  

            “I summon thee my servant Slede.”  Brogann cast his voice into Slede’s head, and Slede instantly transported into the cell. Brogann grabbed Slede, transforming his shape to resemble his own as he took Slede’s appearance. In the few seconds it took to make the transfer, the guard shuffled down the corridor to check on him.  Brogann translated to Salena.

            “What’s goin’ on in there?”  The guard shone the torch into the cell.

            “Get that fucking light out of my eyes or I’ll pull your arms out.” He turned in his chair, facing the cell wall, not allowing the guard to see his face.

            “Show yourself!”  The guard yelled, shoving the torch further into the cell.

            “Instantly Slede was on his feet, the irons on his ankles jerking him back inches from reaching the guard.

            The guard pulled back in terror.  Brogann was a tricky one, and deceptively calm most of the time. “I’ll bring your food.”  He hastily retreated up the stairs, confident that Brogann was safely restrained.

 

                        *                                  *                                  *                                  *

 

            As the sword pierced Salena’s side she screamed. Her glamour had been stripped.  They’d taken Keegan from her with lies and a setup.  Her eyes burned with hatred.  Brogann was the only one that had ever cared for her.

            In an instant a man was beside her, sending the guards flying.  He pulled the sword from her, simply touching it burned his hands.  Before it clanked to the ground, he translated Salena to his chambers. He stayed with her, nursing her along as long as his strength would allow before returning to his cell.

            Slede would have to tend to her needs. The hidden chambers at Petra provided a safe refuge for his bride, for his future queen.