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An Ordinary Day – Endgame Part 10 ~ The Conclusion
17:00 May 27 2010
Times Read: 981

An Ordinary Day – Endgame Part 10

the pieces fall into place part 5



Based on the Characters created by Angelus And Lady of Dragon Rose from the short story “An Ordinary Day” written by Angelus and continued by Lady Of Dragonrose and Angelus.



*For Adults Only







Summers sighed, as Trevor closed the door, then looking at the swarthy fellow scowling before him, he grinned, a wide white tombstone smile.



“Navarre, the trunk of my SUV has what we need…”





*





‘Da wa, Da wa, Da wacka Wah…’



Rachel put cupped hands to her mouth, then took them away, opened them; then closed them again, as to imitate the brass section playing the score from the film ‘Shaft’…



Rachel had crossed her right leg over the left as David had left the room, to get changed, ‘to go out.’



Now he had resurfaced: a moth emerging from his chrysalis, as his own version of Joe Cool; or in this case, John Shaft.



Rachel didn’t want to laugh. Theirs was a perilous mission and it was no time to laugh. So, she stifled the laugh, with the image in her head of David, as Shaft, John Shaft. Mister submissive, turned uber cool in just ten minutes.



He had worn a long brown leather coat with wide lapels and wraparound dark shades; and, having lost his smart, sharp suit jacket, he now wore two shoulder holsters, to enable a fast cross draw.



The studded collar and, her knowledge that he probably still wore suspenders and stockings were incongruous with the image he had chosen, for the occasion.



“I’m ready,” he told Rachel, with a wide toothy smile.



“For many things, I’m sure David,” she responded, while standing.



The Asian took his arm, as he led her from his apartment and, turned left.



“Where are we going?” She queried.



“My own car is round this block, parked up,” he informed her with a sidelong glance; “and, I have a few more toys in the boot that I’ve acquired, from my erm, former clients.”



Rachel knew of some of his clients. Look up bad man in Websters and, there you’d find his client. ‘Everyone deserves a good defence he would say,” if pressed on the guilt of his clients.



“We’re here,” he told Rachel, dawning her from her reverie, as he pointed to his motor, pride and joy: it was a Morgan.



“Is that real?” She asked.



“Nah,” David replied, a little regretful: he so wanted one, but for now was content with what he had and, he told her so, as he held open the door for her.



Minutes earlier, John Summers led the small group to the underground garage where he stored his cars.



They got to his black SUV with smoked glass: Navarre and Summers sat upfront, with Ben sitting on the backseat, both arms resting on the backseat on the back of their seats.



Navarre was complaining, his face was red with anger. “My car, the darn scumsucker got my car…” The keys to said vehicle were in his clenched right fist, elbow leaning out the open window.



Summers drove, thankful he finally had something to do, instead of just sitting back in the office waiting. ‘Sure it isn’t my plan, but it’s a plan,’ he mused.



As Navarre wittered on about his motor Ben looked skyward irritated beyond belief at the incessant whining of this ‘hard man.’



Sensing the tense atmosphere growing inside the vehicle, Summers turned briefly during a break in Navarre’s tirade to say to him, “David meant well my friend. If its damaged, in any way, just bill me, alright?”



Suitably mollified by Summers generosity, Navarre gave a ‘Harumph’, then settled down in his seat quietly, haw clenched tightly.



“So, how far now Boss?” Ben enquired, well aware of the distance, but he wanted to break the silence.



“This whole situation is so frustrating!” Navarre muttered, neck muscles taut. He was used to taking charge; used to being in control, and being stuck behind a semi was not something he could control.



“Frustrating is a suitable word…” Ben muttered, watching through the gap in the two seats, as ‘The Major’ steered the large motor past the truck and further into the dense traffic.



“How far?” Summers muttered, “Well, the simple answer to that is an obvious one: too damn far…”



And, while the SUV drove in one direction toward Yumi’s, the Morgan approached it from the other, at speed.



Rachel watched David’s left-hand as it moved, quite fascinated.



“I didn’t know you could drive a stick shift,” she observed.



“Did you know that I’m a reservist?” He enquired in turn, staring straight ahead, as he gunned the engine.



“Erm… no.” She answered, mouth momentarily agape.



“Mistress Celine knew,” he responded flatly, “So she’ll be depending on me.”



Perhaps Celine had thoughts of rescue at one time, currently they were purely solely on survival; both mental and physical.





Her long black hair cascaded down to just above her hips, as she hung from a chain attached to the police-style handcuffs on her wrists, her weight pulling had on her shoulders. And, her legs were held parted by a spreader bar attached to the leather sleeves on her ankles.



Proud Celine, whose head was normally held high, had her chin to her collar-bone her big brown eyes closed against the onslaught of pain coursing of pain coursing through her naked body, covered in bruises; and a couple of open cuts, with blood trickling down her flesh.



Yet, no matter what she had endured, there was no way she would cry out, nor beg for mercy, not from Yumi. She wouldn’t give her that pleasure.



Her resistance to the abuse frustrated Yumi, who scowled as she walked back and forth, the handle of a vicious looking cat-o-nine tails in her clenched right hand.



From where she sat, across from Celine on a small black leather sofa, the too slim, elfin-faced brunette, with short hair now a bleach blonde, Sandrine Laurent watched her Yumi frowning.



She had become more and more concerned recently for the sanity of the Asian dominatrix, who she believed was so near the edge, the edge was crumbling beneath her weight.



Staring at the welts covering Celine’s buttocks and thighs, Sandrine voiced her thoughts to Yumi, her Mistress and lover: “Summers must have stewed by now?”



John Summers had stewed and was boiling, “If David’s left anything Navarre, I want to rip out her friggin eyes!”



The mention of David had Navarre scowling once more, “For taking my motor, that fellow should…” He was going to say ‘go too Hell’, but never got that far.



Ben had listened to enough: ‘David wanted to help.’



He withdrew his pistol, turning it in his grip, then brought the butt end to the base of speed and precision.



Navarre slumped forward with a groan, restrained from hitting his head on the dashboard by his safety-belt.



“Maybe now you’ll shut up!” Ben opined, sitting back.



An, when Summers realised what happened, he turned to Ben on auto-pilot, to admonish him.



But as it was, taking his eyes off the road for a split-second was all it took: he drove steered the car to the right, hit the kerb and then a fire-hydrant, sending water cascading upward; and the SUV hit a tree in someone’s front yard.



As the airbags deployed, both Summers and Ben exclaimed the same expletive in the same moment, borne of annoyance and frustration.



Finally both men looked to each other: “You know we’re well screwed don’t you Ben?” Summers queried, scowling.



“I’m sorry Boss,” Ben rejoined, “but he deserved it.”



John Summers closed his eyes and he sighed: the young-un was right, but now their rescue bid was over and he knew it.



Meanwhile, less than a half a mile away David parked the Morgan up, half a block from where Yumi lived.



“We’re here,” he told his companion, quite unnecessarily, as he killed the engine.



“Now what?” Rachel queried, genuinely interested to know what he planned next.



Unclipping his seat belt, David smiled mirthlessly, “Here…”

He opened the glove compartment and removed a small automatic, which he handed to her.



“What do you expect me to do, with this?” She asked.



“Back me up Rachel. That’s all I ask,” he answered opening the side door and easing himself out of the low car.



David made his way round the vehicle, opened the passenger door and held out his hand, to offer assistance.



Taking the proffered hand, she stood and she leaned in toward David and stood on her tip-toes and she kissed his cheek lightly, “Whatever happens hun, much as I disagree with your methods, I love you for this, for trying.”



“Uh huh,” he murmured, acknowledging her, as he turned to look down the ordinary looking suburban street.



“I’ll go in through the house to the left and get in through the back…” he told Rachel thoughtfully, “you wait out front and make sure you have the safety off your weapon, alright?”



She stared at the weapon, which she held in both hands.



“I’m not happy with this she told him,” following as he led the way toward Yumi’s home, where their mistress was being held.



“It’s all we have,” he told her, staring ahead, as they continued to walk.



“We could have waited…” she retorted.



Standing still, he turned to face Rachel, with a face of thunder.



“No Rachel, I couldn’t wait. Mistress needs help, now!”



She touched his face gently with right fingertips and smiled, “I know.”



And abruptly his mask slid back into place and with the coattails of his long brown leather flapping, David strode with purpose, content that he would do all that were possible, to rescue his Mistress, Celine.



The look of grim determination on his face worried Rachel, who watched as he took a left onto the pathway leading to the front door of the property to the left of Yumi’s home.



“What if someone saw us?” She quizzed, in hushed tones as he pressed the doorbell, “What then?”



“Then we have problems Rachel. Now shush, I hear someone coming…”



The door opened inward and a small, round grey-haired little old-lady stood there, with her arms crossed and flour on her cheeks.



“I haven’t got long, I’m baking. What can I do for you?” She asked, looking at the two young people before her with curiosity.



David pulled out the pistol beneath his left arm, with a cross-draw, but didn’t aim the weapon.



“Ma’am,” he began, “you go back to your baking. We’re coming in and using your back and I’ll leave…” It wasn’t a request and the old woman knew it.



“What shall I do?” Rachel asked.



Turning to look at her, David smiled briefly; “Stay out front and keep an eye out for anyone coming out. If you see someone who isn’t me or mistress, then shoot to kill. Alright?”



Rachel nodded and David stepped into the hallway, with the owner stepping aside and closing the door after him.



He passed through the main room, aware of eyes boring into his back as he pulled the cable to the phone out of its wall-socket.



“I mean you no harm, but the police would just get in my way, alright?”



The grey-haired old lady nodded wordlessly, as he opened the patio doors.



“Thank you ma’am,” he told, withdrawing his other pistol and closing the door. He crossed toward the wall, dividing the two properties and with his guns in hand, leapt over it.



He landed lightly and made his way to the back wall, edging his way to the nearest window. David peered inside cautiously and growled in the back of his throat as he took in the scene before him.

There was his Mistress, Sandrine and Yumi; and, only Celine was looking toward the window, but her eyes were closed.



Briefly David wondered whether she was alive, or not. Yet experience had taught him that in this sort of scenario, emotion clouded thought.



He took ten, breathing slowly and calmly.



Then crouching low, David crawled beneath the window and made his way on all fours to the back door, where he paused a moment.



He had to utilise his tools well; and other than his weapons his brain was his main one he had. He had to reason this through.



Once inside he had to move fast, ‘that was imperative,’ he mused all of one second, before standing and kicking the doors lock, with force.



“What’s that!” He heard Yumi scream out, as he ran through the kitchen and into the main living area, where he stopped in the doorway, both pistols in his outstretched arms.



Sandrine looked to Yumi, whose eyes opened wide.



No sound came from her as, David stepped into the room.



Her eyes darting back and forth, Sandrine looked from one to the other.



“Don’t move you,” David instructed her, with a nod of his head.



Hearing a voice that was familiar to her, Celine groaned. Noticing that David was distracted, Yumi moved.



And with a ferocity borne from years of built-up resentment, she gave a sharp flick of her wrist, and the cat swept across the room, striking David, tearing a long stripe down the right side of his face.



Yet, he had learnt his lessons well: it would take thirty seconds for the pain to hit home, thirty seconds in which to act.



He whirled round, crouching low, firing upward with both weapons, flame spouting from the muzzle end.



As spent cartridge’s were ejected, Yumi looked ashen faced, as she brought her open palms up, to stare at them, and the holes drilled through each palm.



“Get my Mistress down, now!” David directed Sandrine, who moved hurriedly, as he tracked her with the barrel of one weapon, as he directed the other to Yumi, who had fallen to her knees, her bloody hands between her thigh’s.



Less than a minutes later, Rachel entered through the backdoor herself, both hands round the butt of the small automatic, which she held level before her.



“I heard shots!” She exclaimed, looking wildly around.



Sandrine had lowered Celine to the floor slowly, and then draped a blanket over her, when ordered.



Yumi had turned pale; and lay in a foetal position, her eyes closed, a pool of blood spreading beneath her, as her shallow rapid breathing illustrated how near death she was. Shock had set in and her shooter had no intention of calling aid for her.



David was concerned for his Mistress Celine, whose head he held gently, one gun still pointed toward Sandrine, who sat on the couch, knees drawn upward, towards her chest.



Dressed only in a sweatshirt, she looked childlike and for all of a second, Rachel was tempted to feel sorry for her, but she didn’t. What she did though was to pull out her mobile and, and dial 911.





Time Passed…



A month had come and gone since her rescue and, still recovering, Mistress Celine had personally thanked all who had been of aid to her.



Trevor and Chevy took over the general running of Marley’s, with the title deed being handed over to Ben and Jared, to run as they saw fit.



Alice returned to the home she now shared with her Master, aware that a life grew inside her; so Trevor was given more responsibilities.



David returned to his practice; awaiting Celines return, wearing his collar with pride, even in the courtroom, where a cravat covered it, while providing yet further requisite finesse, for a man in his position.



Yumi lived: though regretted doing so.



Navarre took great pleasure taking her back to the South of France with him, where Celine and John Summers took satisfaction from watching them standing naked and trembling on the auction block, waiting to be sold.



Yumi had known she would not fetch a good price: she was a damaged article now, as both hands had been injured badly. But, few would mind that, after all, she was just a piece of meat, with orifice to be filled. That was all.



And, after the sale, slowly the pair faded from the memory of the local bdsm community and once more David, Rachel and Mistress Celine, enjoyed an ordinary day…

Subject: kneeling naked
00:52 May 23 2010
Times Read: 996

*Suggested, for Adults











Subject: kneeling naked



Looking up at you I have the desire to stroke your face, as I unzip my trousers...

And looking downward, at my hands movement, images of you doing that dance through your mind now and turns you on



Your mouth open, I'd fill it, holding your head as I slide back and forth,



“Mmmmmm…” You murmur.



Whilst I'd be wanting you to look in my eyes, as I shunt my erection in and out of your willing mouth: and, you’re so willing and wanting more



As I withdraw, slowly, excess drool dripping down. I turn, parting my buttock cheeks and, without any words, you know where I want your tongue...



Licking your lips as you prepare to give me what I desire, you slowly lick my hole taking your time to enjoy this moment we share.



"Tongue-fuck me," I tell you, my hand's on the wall; moaning my appreciation of your oral talents.

Aiming to please, your finger enters the hole as well.



"No!" I snap... "Just your tongue..."



Soon, your tongue darts in as deep as it can, lathing me with its wet caress: and I moan my appreciation reaching back to grasp your shoulders, pulling you tighter to me.

“i wish to please you Sir,” you query, “tell me what you desire and i will do it…”

Pleased, momentarily I turn, draw you to me an, press my lips to yours, my hands eagerly traversing every available inch of you.

Your pulse begins to quicken, as the embrace turns softer, as the kisses continue, tongues entwined, your hands exploring my body as we kiss.

And, parting from the embrace, I slide to my knees, hands gliding down your curves: 'n holding your thighs, I begin to lap at you.



An you moan softly, having wanting this for so long; hands on my shoulders, nails digging into my flesh.



Then, running my hands up your thighs, my face pressed to your warmth, I inhale, and then seek your clitoris, hidden from me. Found, I lathe it with the tip of my tongue, with small flicking motions.



As your legs begin to tremble from pleasure, I tongue you persistently, aware that you've closed your eyes...



It’s been so very long for you: “Mmmmm...” you groan softly, knowing you will cum quick and hard, as I tongue your parted wet folds, the middle finger of each hand opens up your sphincter.

“dear god, you know how to please me Sir”, you moan louder, clutching at my hair; and lapping at you, they enter, an you gasp, with pleasure...

I have you quivering so very hard to stay standing as you are getting weak in the knees from such pleasure.

And as I continue to lap at your aroused bus, I part your thighs with my right hand, with two fingers from my right entering your liquid warmth.



Moaning, you feel your climax building as I drive them in and out, slamming them deep..



“please, harder, i beg of you”, you beseech.



And clasping your left high, I press my face into your warmth, as I tongue you, fingers thrusting hard and deep, as you’re digging your nails into my shoulders



An now I look up, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat, as I taste the cream and I know what I want next.



You see that I am as pleased as you are: "tell me Sir, what do you want next?"



Undressing, I take your hands and draw you to the floor with me.

"Why not surprise me?" I say to, pressing my lips, to yours with a butterfly kiss.



You kiss me in return as you straddle me, sliding down onto my hard shaft and, with my right hand I thumb your nipples, as I draw you down to me by your neck, my lips seeking yours, tongue entering your mouth.



In turn, you kiss me deeply, and then you ride me, as I lie back, looking up at you, smiling.



An grasping your buttocks, I kiss you; then groan against your lips, with pleasure.



Soon, gentle rhythmic thrusts heighten my sense further, as you feel me deep in you and I reach up, to hold each breast dangling before me & I suckle one nipple, then the other...



You begin to ride harder and a little faster and, as my thighs tremble with the onset of climax, I use my teeth on your nipple flesh.



‘Such bliss, to cum with you’, you think as, I pull you to me, as my seed jets deep inside you and, I clutch you tight.



“Mmmm…” You sigh, holding me and kissing me passionately.



And enfolding you in my arms, as I slowly wilt, inside you, I whisper in your ear: "Shall we take this upstairs now??"



“Lead the way, Sir…” You assent, willingly, lovingly.

An Ordinary Day – Endgame Part 9
00:36 May 19 2010
Times Read: 1,011

An Ordinary Day – Endgame Part 9

the pieces fall into place part 4



Based on the Characters created by Angelus And Lady of Dragon Rose from the short story “An Ordinary Day” written by Angelus and continued by Lady Of Dragonrose and Angelus.



*For Adults Only





David looked across the office at Jared’s face, as he looked at the doll-like Alice, whose face had turned ashen earlier at the mention of Navarre.



As he did so, Rachel looked to him with concern, she knew how the big well-spoken man kept thing’s to himself: often to his own detriment.



She was worried, for him. His mistress was in danger: and, the individual who had been contacted for aide had Jared’s slave quaking with fear.



She had due cause; it had been Navarre and Yumi who had ‘acquired’ her from the life she had led as a runaway, then taken her to a warehouse, where she had been stripped and bound, then weeping uncontrollably, she had every orifice probed as she had been examined prior to sale; one of many who had been sold that sunny afternoon.



Navarre. Just the mention of his name had her flesh crawling.



And, Rachel frowned, watching David’s knuckles become taut, as he stood in mute obeisance, towards his Mistresses former lover.

The Major, as Summers liked to be called sat behind his desk, wearing a grey suit, allowing a smile to cross his face as the two men entered his office; and he stood, offering his hand to Navarre.



The big man behind the desk wearing a grey suit allowed a smile to cross his face as the two men entered his office; and he stood, offering his hand the Navarre.



His former lover Sandrine had manipulated Summers easily, into his decision to take early retirement.



But now, because of Yumi and her actions, he was back to doing what he did best, taking charge, of a situation, in the best way he knew how.



Yet Summers was a pragmatist, knowing that to successfully do what needed to be done now he needed assistance.



That was why Navarre was there.



Trevor had told them that Celine was being held at Yumi’s home. And, although he’d been incredulous to learn that at first, it eventually made sense, particularly when he took into account of Sandrine and, her behavior toward him.



In effect, the slim young woman had taught him a salient lesson, without her Summers could be the man that he was meant to be.



Yumi was power-struck: and, wanted what was not hers and with assistance, Summers was determined to ensure that she never acquired what she sought.



Yet, he needed assistance, to rescue Celine safely.

And, he had friends and acquaintances to help him.

That was why Navarre was there.



“Good to see you,” Navarre muttered to him, as they shook hands. He knew that his presence here was under sufferance. But, when it came to Yumi and revenge, they had a meeting of minds: she would suffer.



As the two men spoke, Ben leaned his back against the wall arms crossed, his left leg crooked, the sole of his foot against it.



He eyed his friend Jared, with Alice his loving slave clinging to him, her eyes constantly darting from him to Navarre.



Although it was rare for such a relationship between Master and Slave to develop as theirs had, it was known. And, considering the background to each of them, Ben was pleased that they had each other.



‘Particularly now,’ he mused, looking round the room and the pensive faces, that he imagined mirrored his own.



Placing down the receiver, Summers looked up at Navarre, while all around the room, faces looked to him to gauge his reaction, yet his face remained neutral.



“And?” Navarre queried, an edge to his voice, making him sound more accented that minutes earlier.



John Summers sighed; “Pretty well what I expected, she wants the club. Personally I think that’s why Sandrine was pushing me to sell. And, not only could she not wait for the sale, she..” He paused, smiled: “She doesn’t want to pay, as it seems Celine’s exchange is the payment, as far as she is concerned..”



“Quel surprise!” Navarre exclaimed, standing away from he desk.



“And, what’s more..” Summers drawled out, “she wants me to formally hand the club over, on a handover night.”



At this there were gasps around the room.



One of the demands was expected since the abduction, the other was shocking.



“No way,” David shouted, turning to hit the wall, with force.



And faces turned, to watch him steam out of the small office, as Rachel followed.



“Well, that was to be expected,” Trevor muttered, from the corner he’d chosen to occupy, drawn in on himself, in the vain hope hat no-one would notice him.



Chevy turned to the submissive, with a glare that spoke volumes. He may have made his own mistakes during this farrago, but he wasn’t tactless.



And, Trevor turned ashen.



“When he returns, I’ll have David draw up the papers of transfer..” Summers announced dully, his words clear, to all in the room.



“And, if he doesn’t return?” Jared asked him pointedly.



For long moments, there was silence. And finally Navarre spoke, aware that someone had to say something: “Then we deal with it.”



And while debate began, as to what to do next, David Stapleton eased himself into the bucket seat of the elite motor sitting at the kerbside.



He didn’t need keys, as more than one of his clients had shown him how to start a car without one. Then as Rachel approached the car door, he started up the engine.



She opened the door and slid in next to him, as he pulled away. Then slamming closed the door, she turned to him and snarled, “Just what do you think you’re doing David?”



“I’m finishing this. Mistress is coming home today,” he stated simply, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.



Flooring the accelerator weaved the car David between lanes, seemingly quite oblivious quite oblivious to the speed he was going.



Yet, his face was quite impassive: and for some reason Rachel found that quite scary and, so unlike the usually mild manner, which she’d grown to expect from him.



And, for a moment, she wanted to take control, of the wheel.



Instead she implored of him, “Where are we going?”



“Going to mine,” he told her flatly, “buckle up.”



Rachel turned her head to look briefly at David and the look of grim determination on his face, then did as he had suggested, as he did the same.



The car careened through the traffic at increasing speed, with Rachel holding the edge of her seat, her pulse rate high, until finally they arrived outside his apartment.



“We’re here,” he told her.



Killing the engine he turned to Rachel, informing her, “You can come in if you want. Just remember I keep this place as an office since I met Mistress. Don’t have any expectations, alright?”



She nodded. He had been with their small family quite awhile now; yet she knew little of the world he had left, that co-existed with theirs, as Mistress often had need of David, and all that he could do.



And Rachel moved as quickly as he did, entering the building and, running up the stairwell to his floor, ignoring the lift, as he didn’t want to wait.



Back in the office, Ben opined openly, “Rachel hasn’t come back.”



Feet shuffled; and faces looked at one another expectantly, as Navarre paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back.



Finally he stopped before ‘the Majors’ desk once more, his clenched fists hard on the desk with the knuckles white, scowling.

Ben returned his gaze to the closed office door.



“They’re not coming back,” he added quite unnecessarily, to no-one particular.



And staring long and hard into Summers eyes, Navarre muttered, “The kids right.”



Ben smarted a little a little, at being called a kid in front of his friends. Yet out of respect to ‘The Major’, he said nothing.



“The time for waiting is over!” Navarre stormed, “That one..” He continued, gesturing toward the door.



“David…” Alice threw in, suddenly finding voice, “his name is David…”



The too-slim submissive looked up to her Master and she slowly declared, “David’s gone to help Mistress Celine… I like David…”



Having what she needed, Alice closed her eyes and tightened her hold on her Master, Jared, who looked down into her wide baleful eyes and caressed her hair.



Ben looked to his friend, smiling gently, “Jared, get Trevor to take her home, I think the time has come, for action…” ‘At last!’ He thought.



Looking tired, Jared returned the smile, and then he looked back down to his loving pet: “I think you’re right,” he admitted, his smile slowly fading, sadness in his voice.



He looked to Summers a moment, “I’m sorry. I…” He wanted to say more; he needed to say more; and hoping that John Summers would understand, “I hope all goes well. I’m just sorry, I can’t be with you…”



He stood and gently led Alice, his ‘sweet little butterfly’, out of the office, to Bens relief.

An Ordinary Day – Endgame Part 8
01:08 May 17 2010
Times Read: 1,019

An Ordinary Day – Endgame Part 8

the pieces fall into place part 3



Based on the Characters created by Angelus And Lady of Dragon Rose from the short story “An Ordinary Day” written by Angelus and continued by Lady Of Dragonrose and Angelus.



*For Adults Only





‘Emotions that lie deep in one’s soul never stays hidden for long.’ Rachel ached for her Mistress, just as David had. Yet David’s temper was hard to keep under control as the days went by, waiting on Yumi’s phone call. Everyone was on edge and at the slightest ring of the phone, eyes turned to John Summers, owner of Marley’s and somewhat unofficial head of the bdsm local community. Celine was waiting to come home.



Navarre and Chevy walked into the club’s dim atmosphere.

The electricity could be felt as Chevy knocked on the door to the manager’s office. The office was well lit. Navarre noticed little Alice sitting next to her beloved Master Jared. Alice had little to be afraid of, sitting there with her Master, but her insides were reminding her of her beginnings. It was Navarre who enjoyed taking his time in the examination of her small body, while Yumi looked on.

There was not one part of her body he didn’t know.



She began to sweat and moved closer to Jared.



David looked at the big man as the introductions were made. He knew just by looking Yumi was in serious trouble; David grinned at that, for the first time in days he felt it was coming to an end.

He and Rachel had discussed what shape Celine would be in. Neither one wanted to think about that, but would obviously take care of her if she needed it.



Finally, Navarre stood before The Major, “Hello, John, your looking well. What do you have in mind for Yumi and How can I be of help?” John stood up and began to put out the plan, which would involve some shady paper work: a direction in which David could help; David, who was dressed in his lawyer clothes, his black leather collar worn around his neck with pride. He looked every inch a lawyer; that was until you notice what was under his suit. He wore his favorite garter and hose beneath.



The phone rang and Rachel coiled like a spring, shot up out of her chair, reaching for the phone without John’s permission. He glowered at the tall Asian woman and she backed way and, sat back down, as he answered it on the second ring.



“Marley’s” his deep baritone voice said into the phone.

“Ah John, so good to hear your voice,” purred Yumi.

“Took you long enough to call Yumi,” John retorted with gritted teeth whilst holding his composure. He had to set the plan in motion.

“Well, John you know how it is training new slaves. It keeps me busy, you understand?” Yumi opined, then she gave a high laugh that sent chills down his spine.



“Let me talk to Celine. And I am warning you now, if you have done anything to Celine the deal is off. You understand me?” John said coldly.



Yumi said nothing to this threat; they didn’t work well on her and, as he waited, John heard chains being rattled in the background.

His heart went cold.

‘If she had her in chains what shape would Celine be in?’

Again he heard chains, the sound getting nearer.

And, Summers held his breath, in anticipation.

“Hello John,” Celine said in a tired voice and John motioned for the group to come forward as he put her on speaker phone.

Slayed
15:42 May 06 2010
Times Read: 1,048








Dressed in black leather, the two figures appeared as naught but shadows, as they moved quickly from roof-top to roof-top.



They had been searching for many nights, for The Usurper, as he liked to call himself.



It was against house rules to kill a human; and had been since the early twenty-first century; yet still there were those such as their quarry, who favoured the old ways; the chase, the kill.



And so, they had been sent out, once more, to slay one of their own kind, to protect the tenuous peace that existed with the humans.



Kai knelt down, running his hand over the ground.



“The scent is still strong,” Kai explained, sniffing his fingers.



“Yes…” Shay agreed, “The kill was recent and now, he runs.”



“But not from us…” Kai stated.



“Then from what?”



Kai pointed to the far horizon and, the edge of crimson that touched the black of night: “From that, from the rising sun.”



His companion looked askance.



“We should not be here. He has the right idea,” she mumbled.



“Cha,” Kai scoffed, “If we hurry, we can rest where he intended. Can’t we?”



It made sense to the warrior, and Shay smiled tightly.



“Then, we must move faster. Yes?”



As she spoke Kai leapt to the next building, a blur of motion. He was older than her and although he would never be as powerful as their House elders, as a warrior he was second to none: although Shay came a close second.



At that moment, several miles away, a detective knelt by the body of a young woman, crumpled, lifeless and pale, through lack of blood.



Detective John Cale had seen too many like her recently and, for some reason it was getting to him, more than he’d have expected of himself.



After all, he’d worked the cities streets for fifteen years and, this girls death was worse than anything he’d seen in all that times.

Whoever was doing this was escalating and, he could see that from the mutilations to the body. But, it was the two puncture wounds to the neck on each of the victims that puzzled Cale.



The detective stood, ran his left fingers through his hair, tufting it upward.



“Okay, call in the CSI!” he called to Ramirez, the young detective assigned to partner him for this case, standing near the mouth of the alleyway, with the blues who had taped it off.



She spoke into her radio and, he stood, cupping one hand round his lighter, as he lit his cigarette. Although Cale had meant to stop, there were certain precipitants that meant he just couldn’t: this particular crime scene was one of those.



He sighed out smoke, looking upward to the cities skyline. It was puzzling to him that he felt that the answer lay there, but he did.



“Oh I look forward to some sleep and shower…” Cale exclaimed, thinking that a scotch was also in order. But he couldn’t say that aloud, and stay in authority, he mused. Just then, Ramirez walked over, her dark eyes looked harrowed and, just for a moment Cale found himself thinking, ‘I wish they’d assigned someone else to this.’



There had been eight killings, all of a similar nature and the strain of this case was taking its toll on his younger partner.



“Sir..” she began.



“It’s John, or Cale, alright? Less of the ‘Sir!’” He explained, for the umpteenth time.



And, Cale turned to face his partner and smiled, “What is it?”

He could see that she held a piece of paper in her left hand: he repeated his question.



“Sir..” She paused, mentally admonished herself, and then carried on; “one of the men found a crumpled note, in her mouth..”



Cale took the paper from her, now in a sealed plastic bag; then reading the same handwritten script he’s already seen on two prior cases, he turned to Ramirez with a resigned expression on his face: “So, what do you make of this?”





*





And as morning crept toward them, the hunters stopped their chase on a warehouse roof, on the dock-front where the trail ended.



Both Kai and Shay knew that for them the nights end had come and without somewhere to hide from the light of day there would be no more nights for them to carry on their hunt.



“I hear tell the wife he took back then tried to kill him,” Shay queried peering round, as they paused a moment, while Kai took his bearings.



She was apprehensive.



Their quarry had evaded them, the day was nearly there and, their time was nearly up, if they didn’t find some form of sanctuary, soon.



‘Not far,’ he mused.



“Yes, that’s right,” he acknowledged without elucidating further, prior to leaping once more, down to the concrete and the river front.



A hand on her thigh, Shay grimaced; “Too driven,” she sighed, and then lifted her head, tossed her raven tresses and leapt herself.



And as her feet found purchase, Shay stood and looked at her colleague puzzled, “Do you have a plan in mind Kai? You know we have to…”



“Move… soon,” he finished for her, looking to the rising sun, feeling his exposed skin already warming.





*





Whilst at that moment, back at the crime-scene, Cale poured over the note he’d been given; a note that was written in red: ‘Blood?’ he mused, thankful that this night was over and, that soon he would be in O’Malley’s, sinking a whiskey or three.



He looked at the paper Ramirez had given him once more, quite intrigued by the old-fashioned script in which it was written; and yet again, he read the ominous note: ‘I haven’t finished, yet. Though the peelers were close last time, you’re not even in their league. This time, I’ll finish what I started.’ And, it was signed simply, ‘Jack.’





*





Kai had reached the end of the pier, his flesh getting hotter and hotter with every passing second. And, looking briefly over his shoulder to ensure that Shay was following, he reached down, grasped some piping that ran horizontal, then swing his body in an arc. Then, he was gone, from Shay’s sight.



She sighed, long and hard, her skin already hotter than she felt that she could bear, then breathing in deeply, she placed her trust in her partner and followed Kai’s moves.



And, as she swing down and round, Kai grasped her legs and drew Shay to him, into the welcoming dark of the sewer outlet pipe.



“He isn’t far now,” Kai explained, pulling on her left hand, to draw her away from the bright morning light that encroached upon the mouth of the pipe.



“Really?” she hissed back, exposed pronounced canine, as the lust for their prey filled her senses. She had felt pain with the lights touch and felt that someone had to pay.



‘And according to Kai, that someone is just ahead,’ Shay thought, smiling.



And, with their feet tromping in sludge, they walked on, Kai sniffing at the air.

Finally he stopped dead in his tracks: “Just ahead!” He told Shay, a mirthless grin on his face.



Ahead of hem, they head splashing, as the prey took flight and, she returned his grin.



As one, they each brought their weapons into play, with Kai firing into the darkness first, shot after shot: silver dum-dum bullets, designed to kill The Usurper.



Moments later, Shay fired, her guns muzzle flashes illuminating the area in which they stood, for the briefest of seconds.



A groan, then a splash told the hunters they had acquired their target and, Kai strode forward, a look of determination on his face. He needed to know they’d been right.



‘Was he dead, again??’ The hunter mused, as he sloshed forward, till his foot found that of their prey, still dressed as history recorded, in clothes of a period long gone, when one would dress smart for the opera, his medicine bag floating nearby.



Briefly he turned to his colleague and, he allowed a smile to cross his face.

“So we have to wait here till nightfall,” he grinned, “big deal. Merricks dead, finally.”

The Willing Supplicant
18:11 May 05 2010
Times Read: 1,058

*Suggested for Adult Readers













The Willing Supplicant



You enter the room and I smile, topless, wearing green shorts, which you remove slowly upon instruction, as I gaze with pleasure at your revealed curves. Easing the black lace panties over your hips, my eyes are drawn to your derriere and, my smile increases.



We had discussed how 'interesting' this meeting would be; and now you are here, for me to enjoy your body lain over my lap, shapely legs draping downward, for me to caress.



I run my hand over your legs, my arousal evident; as it continued its journey upward, to part your cheeks and reveal your pucker to my gaze; and sucking on the middle finger of my right hand I part your buttocks with my left, then ease my finger through your tight sphincter, delighting in your moan of pleasure.



And, that is the sign I’ve wanted, to withdraw it, much to your initial disappointment, until I then slide two, into you, for my pleasure. Then, I piston those two fingers back and forth, my left hand on your right shoulder, as I do so.



And as you moan softly, enjoying the sensations, I lean forward and, biting your left shoulder, thrust deeper and faster, prior to sliding three into you and widening your asshole to it's widest, knowing that soon that portal of pleasure will be taking more than just my fingers.



Your body is mine to enjoy; and I enjoy my possession of it.. withdrawing my fingers, for you to taste..



As you let out a small cry, to let me know you want more, I now continue thrusting long and deep, bruising you and pleasuring you through the pain and possession of your body, mine to enjoy, to My Will.



And knowing that, you lie there, a supplicant, to my passions.

Victoria’s Need
14:09 May 02 2010
Times Read: 1,081

*Suggested For Adults Only







Having undressed in the hallway, outside his door, her clothing now sat next to her backpack, waiting for the evenings end and Victoria entered the small well-appointed office with her cheeks flushed, it was unnecessary for her to wear blusher.



Her eyes were downcast; she had her hands clasped behind her long back, fingers interlaced, so that her trembling would not show.



The teen had described had described herself as ‘a dark-haired Emo-chick’, when she had replied to the advertisement on Craigslist, which she had excitedly read: ‘stern ex-school Master looking for firms bottoms, to glow.’



And now here she was, in his office, the building empty; naked as instructed in his last email, the one she had read and re-read many times.



“You haven’t shaved, as ordered…” she heard from a deep voice from the shadows at the far end of the room, where he sat behind his desk, a desk lamp and the computers monitor providing the rooms only illumination.



And she quaked, knowing she had angered him: but she’d not been able to think of a way of explaining the loss of pubic hair to Tom, her fiancé. She only wished that he would understand her needs. But, he just seemed to be oblivious to the hints she had made during their love-making. Even so, she’d thought moments before she had answered that ad, “A girl has her needs, that have to be met.”



But, now she faced even further punishment, for disobedience.



“Come to the middle of the room,” he told her, turning the lamp so the light fell there.



She shook with tremulous desire and trepidation, as she did as instructed, nipples hard, aware that in the darkness, his eyes watched her every move.



“You know you’ll suffer, for such disobedience, don’t you?” He asked quietly, his elbows on the desktop, his chin resting on his clasped fingers.



She nodded, fearful of the pain, she so wanted.



“I can’t hear you,” he snapped.



Ruefully she admitted, “Yes Sir, I know.”



Victoria’s eyes were already tear-filled, yet the need drove her to fulfil this fantasy.



He stood, and she heard his voice move as he told her, “Over here, over my lap.”



The big man had sat on a leather sofa, and patting his thigh, he told her in a gentler voice, “Come on sweet thing, and come make yourself comfortable.”



And, as the butterflies in her stomach changed their footwear for heavy Rockers, Victoria took small steps across the room, toward Him and, his waiting hand.



She was naked and feeling very vulnerable; and thought, ‘it felt delicious.’



“Your ass will be burning when you leave,” he told her, as Victoria lay over his lap as instructed, as something in her back brain rang at her bell.



‘I just know that voice,’ she mused, as his right hand began to caress her firm buttocks; ‘I’m sure I know that voice.’



Unknown to her, Victoria did know the owner of the voice, quite well indeed.



He raked fingernails down her spine, while he stroked her flesh: and, trembling with anticipation Victoria closed her eyes, ‘the moment she’d waited for had come.’



“You really want this, don’t you little girl?” He questioned, his right hand stilled a moment.



She didn’t know what to say in answer, until he snapped out, “Speak!”



“Yessir,” she responded, in a quiet voice.



“I’m just going to start with a warm up little girl,” He told Victoria, who was initially puzzled at his choice of words: she was eighteen with a full bust; trim waist and bird-bone hips, ‘hardly a little girl.’



“And this little girl needs to be punished for being bad, doesn’t she?” His words drifted away as the role-play continued, his hand bringing a rush to the pit of her gut, as it continued it’s slow stroking motion.



And, she closed her eyes, the feel of his hand on her flesh suddenly her only focus, everything else forgotten, as he began to spank her.



He gave the nearest butt cheek three sharp smacks, then he gave the teen three more on her other firm butt cheek, stinging her flesh and, she sighed with the release she had sought. ‘It was what she expected,’ she mused.



“Now,” he whispered in her ear, “now you’ve had six, for a warm-up, let’s show you what a proper spanking is like, you naughty, naughty girl.”



And so saying, he held her right shoulder, steadying her on his knees, as his heavy hand fell upon her warming skin, causing her to pant with the latter blows, raising up to meet each smack, as tears slowly fell down her cheeks. She was in rapture.



Yet finally he stopped. “I need a rest, a moment,” he told her.

Then as he ran his right hand over her crimson flesh, Victoria sighed and smiled to herself: She had taken each blow, as they warmed her, stinging her, pleasuring her.



“Are you ready, for the cane now?” He asked, close to her ear.

“Yessir,” she replied quickly.



“Then stand,” he instructed, “and stand before the desk, your ands resting there, with your butt out.”



‘The cane? How lucky I was to meet him,’ she thought as she stood and rubbed at her warm buttocks.



She got into position before his desk, watching as the big man reached down to the side of the sofa, to retrieve his can, soon to be the instrument of her pain and pleasure.



And she waited, not-so-patiently as he stood: and, as he moved, the light caught the side of his face and, there it was, she knew who has given her what she had so-craved: ‘It was Tom’s Father, Mister Cruickshank.’



And, Victoria turned her tearful face directly to his as she asked, “Will you tell Tom?”



Momentarily thrown off-guard, the big man suddenly grinned; “Tom who?”



Then the cane swished downward; and Victoria closed her eyes and sighed.