by Poppet
He laughs as he returns to the basins. Picking up the toothbrush I used previously and throwing it to me. “Catch.”
Victor puts toothpaste on his electric toothbrush, then passes the toothpaste to me. Happy to be thoroughly clean, I start brushing. We could have been together for years, we're that comfortable.
I know that mint causes tingles. After brushing our teeth I pull him between my legs, me sitting on the lid again. I get a thrill of pleasure staring up at him while I run tingles over the sensitive erection that I just induced, with my tongue. He's staring down with an enigmatic expression. It's hard not to smile when his eyes close and his neck forces his Adam's apple into highlight.
He's gorgeous. He's comforting.
And finally I get the pleasure of hearing this hunk moan.
•
Victor:
When she kneels before her maker I can barely contain myself. With soft lips pressing eagerly against me, her willing tongue leaves a trail of aching desire in its wake. I nearly cum in her face when she sucks my balls into her mouth, one by one. So hot, wet, evil; evil woman. She worships properly. I cannot fault her touch. I commanded, and she fell to her knees in adoration. Mindless unquestioning worship surges me into an impaler.
Restraint is harder when she's so compliant to please. Her tongue is succulent velvet, stroking, pleasing, teasing. Fuck! Pushing her back under the water. I'm not touching a face with my fluids all over it.
Is it worship or is she just a slut? Is she worshipping or is she simply a fallen angel beyond redemption?
She must hurt. Picking her up, I slide hard inside her. The water should dilute lubrication, making her feel the pain of loving me. The pain of her sins. The pain all woman deserve for Eve's mistakes. Look at her, moaning and gasping. She's enjoying this!
Shoving the door open, I force her soft body onto the hard floor. Nailing her with all the brutality I can muster so her bones will ache because the floor is unforgiving. But she clings.
Soft lips trace my shoulder.
My resolve softens with her neediness. So delicate and fragile. Her diminutive frame so pleased to lay under mine. Willing to submit in her weakness to my strength. She holds without ever scratching. She doesn't object even though I know it hurts her. She's taking her punishment with humility.
Softly caressing my neck while I make her whimper. Her submission overwhelms me. Unable to continue the punishment because of the unbearable pleasure she gives me on every level of my being. The cashmere heat of her thighs, her gasps, taking the pain for my pleasure. I lose control, filling her again, yet she is grateful. Her face holds rapturous delight; unveiled adoration. Unlike the terrified eyes I've stared into for months, she gazes at me with affection.
When she invites my body between hers, staring up at me with gullible blue eyes lined with dark lashes, the sharp freshness of her mouth wrapped around me, vengeance flees. She's so desperate for my approval, assuming her rightful place, lowering before me, seeking lasciviously to give me more pleasure without demanding any for herself.
I relinquish self control for the euphoria. Surrendering my guard briefly, to indulge in sheer ecstasy. I have achieved the impossible. She is completely mine. Relishing her touch, the caresses, kisses; incredible sensations, my first groan of pleasure surprises even me.
Father never allowed this. I never allowed it. The flesh is weak. But now I realise it is not weak when it's so willing, seeking to grant safe haven in ecstatic celebration of life. Her expression reveals vulnerable adoration. She wants to do this. It's a gift. She is giving back to me. Her gratitude undeniable. And I need to see those eyes staring up at me in worship, feeling strangely calm, experiencing a sharing instead of the marking as the hot mouth accepts my return gift. Body to body.
Opening my eyes again as the towel wraps back around me, she plants a gentle kiss in my navel, I have never experienced such domination. Her desire to please me, she's the first angel to turn. To give me surrender without my force. My dirty angel has finally resurrected herself.
She is the one.
Needing to explore this strange exhilaration further, I pick her up and walk to the sanctuary of the bedroom. Her warm breath teases my neck as she sucks the skin gently. When she whispers seductively in my ear, even my DNA reacts.
“Victor, you are wonderful. Please let me keep you.”
I'm going to work her with the intelligence of Omega. Knowing biology the way I do, it should be easy to manipulate the X, Y and G spots.
I have to see her eyes when she goes blind.
~ Chapter 20 ~
Photography has no rules. It is not a sport.
It is the result which counts, no matter how it is achieved.
~Bill Brandt
Shauna:
I feel like giggling while Victor keeps a look-out for me while I dash across between our doors, wearing nothing more than knickers and his humungous vest. But once inside, the enormity of last night hits the joy right out of me. The smell of petrol is overpowering.
He's wearing his dark glasses, a black cap, and his usual black jeans and t-shirt as he joins me, staring into my bedroom. The carnage and the despicable memories have me paralysed. Tears streaming, trying to be brave I suppress a sob.
“Do you want to call the police?”
Shaking my head in response. “No. Two deaths and now this? I'll be the main suspect.”
Frantic, I push past him to get my phone off the coffee table. Snatching it up, I collapse onto the floor next to the table, cradling the phone. Laughing between tearful bursts.
“Shauna?”
Arms wrap around me and I bury my face into his neck, indulging in safe strength. “He …” sob, “likes you.”
“He?” … “Oh yes, Vengeance.”
He pulls me up, turning my chin so that I face him. “Get dressed. You can't sleep in that bed. We're tossing it.”
I know it's logical but I'm on a tight budget.
“My treat. Okay?”
“Victor, no … I couldn't possibly …”
“Just bury your female pride this once?” His face gets closer as delectable lips press against mine enthusiastically. “Let me spoil you.” Between kisses, and his seductive grin that curls the corners of his mouth up, he tells me, “Besides – I – might – want – to – sleep – over – and – it's – not – long enough – for – my – height.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck I let him pick me up, kissing me, taking me back to my bedroom.
He plants my feet back on the ground at the closet. “Now get dressed while I open this place up and get some air in here.”
“And then?”
“And then we're going shopping for a new bed.”
Incredulous, I watch him pull open the left blue and white pinstripe curtain. How the heck did I just get so lucky? Even Vengeance approves.
Facing my wardrobe I unearth a pink and white gingham peasant blouse and plain pink matching skirt. If Vengeance is watching, I'm not going to give him a reason to blow Victor up too. Opening my underwear drawer I select pink underwear and pull Victor's vest off. Hooking the bra, I look up to find him watching me. Instantly self-conscious I ask, “What?”
His eyes amazingly seem to be a deeper shade of brown. They've gone from warm brown to coffee liqueur. I can't read his expression. He seems so poised with his shades perched on the peak of his cap.
“You.”
“What about me?” I continue getting dressed. Glancing at him as I change underwear.
“Feminine and petite. Such a tiny waist.”
My face heats up uncomfortably. “And now my cheeks are co-ordinated.” Eyeing him curiously, I ask a burning question while I finish dressing. “Victor, why do you live here?”
“You mean doing what I do, why do I choose to live a superficially modest existence?”
He's sharper than a Katana sword. “Yes.”
“I'm single. I don't like hired help and don't have the time to clean a bigger place. It suits my needs.”
Nodding thoughtfully I sit down at my dressing table, brushing my hair out. “That makes sense. Men are always so practical.”
He picks up the duvet, “I'm putting this outside.”
I watch him walk out of the bedroom in the mirror's reflection. Smiling with secret pleasure I spritz perfume, grab deodorant, pop my pill, and run pink lipstick over my lips. Slipping flat, matching canvas shoes on; I grab my phone and purse, putting them into my skirt pockets. With my own sunglasses in place perched on my head, I go in search of him.
Noticing the open windows, the duvet outside and him leaning next to the kitchen counter, I smile. For some reason a swarm of locusts just took flight in my stomach. Devouring my joy like the plague as his expression morphs from tranquil to displeasure. He stands erect as I reach him and easily retrieves a serviette on the other side of the counter, running it over my mouth.
“Why do women wear this shit?”
I'm stunned. Feeling reprimanded and insulted simultaneously. “We like it.”
“Do you ever taste it?”
“Obviously.”
“Your lips are perfect without it.”
“It gives us subconscious confidence.”
His voice is dead serious as he challenges back. “No. It makes you look cheaper than tinsel.”
I'm still oddly in shock. I've never had a boyfriend dictate to me, ever. Is he dictating to me?
“Shauna, you don't need artificial shit on your face to look pretty. It tastes like burnt plastic and cheapens you. You're better than that.”
Is this a compliment? Then why do I feel like it's an insult somehow? Something about this moment gives me emotional conflict.
Sliding his sunglasses on, he links his fingers through mine, tugging me out the door with him. After locking it he leans me against it with his own body weight. Kissing me so deeply, I feel it in my knees. Pulling away slightly he whispers, “That's why. Those are my lips and I want to taste them. Often.”
My lips? Holy shit! I think I just became Doctor Victor's official girlfriend! Instantaneously I'm transported to walking on a carpet of evanescent bubbles. I cannot recall the last time I felt this buoyantly happy.
•
Victor:
One of the key elements of luring her is to dangle bait in front of her nose. Father's insights are as always invaluable to me. She needs to feel rescued. With me, she must feel safe, protected, and humbled.
It's a plain ugly fact that a young woman like Shauna will find a wealthy man attractive. Phase two of her seduction is now in play; spoiling her with what is an essential item beyond her usual means. It was a logical move, but one that has personal value to me. She fucked that degenerate on that bed. I will be the only man in her bed from now on. A virgin bed where I shall again reinforce the blood covenant.
Simple biblical law. Resume marital relations, lest Satan tempt you to sin through your lack of restraint of sexual desire; 1 Corinthians 7:5. The moral being to keep her busy in bed so her eyes and body do not stray. I intend to keep her exhausted and preoccupied with me. My desires, my needs, my fulfilment.
Whilst validating her ego, complimenting her, and letting her think I do it all for her.
My approach is to be perceived as altruistic.
I've discovered the truth that Alpha hid from me. The forbidden fruit he kept from me. He gave me temple whores to practice on as part of their punishment. But I never even knew their names. I became disassociated mentally and emotionally to the act. They knew they were going to die, and tried to give as much pleasure as they could to stall the inevitable. Shauna is in no way the first woman to get a rise out of me. But there is a significant personal difference between her and them.
Shauna was chosen. Hand picked by me.
Then purified immaculately by me. My attention to detail went into this. The relationship cast before she was aware that there was to be a relationship. Intention is the biblical measuring rod of the heart and soul. My intention was for her to be my female companion. My Eve. When Father created Eve, he said she was to be a helper. And Shauna is already obediently helping as instructed. She hasn't questioned my authority.
I selected her out of a handful of sinners. She met the criteria on many levels. Any fallen angel worth my time to cleanse, purify and sanctify, had to be at the age when they were beginning to fear staying single and childless. Shauna's twenty-eight now.
She was twenty-seven when I found her. I watched her for four months before taking her. She is the perfect age of vulnerability. Ready to be plucked from the masses. Young enough to give birth to a healthy child, but old enough to accept the pregnancy in case she never gets the opportunity again. Open to a long term relationship because of familial pressure and her own biological clock. And the fallen had to be as pure as possible. A non-smoker, non-drug taker. No dependencies of any kind that have a permanent effect on the genetic DNA.
Her blood type had to be compatible with mine, and I had to find one thing endearing and at least one thing physically attractive. My personal trinity of traits. I find all of her physically attractive, her husky voice especially; and I find that trembling lip endearing. She has no idea how blessed she is to be chosen out of a meagre five women. Five women. Shocking statistics all things considered.
I sensed her reluctance this morning. Yet I manipulated her to give me my desired result. Father however, did not educate me to the secret. The secret is that I enjoy it. It's unlike any task I've yet endured. It isn't a sufferance. This is a task I undergo willingly now that she submits. Her eyes watch me. I've caught her smiling to herself. Her eyes sparkle with such intensity. I've known her for fourteen months and have not witnessed that expression before.
That is the reflection of joy; of a woman dominated with love. She cannot disguise it. She hasn't challenged me once. And for the first time I'm faced with the duality of relations with a woman. I have the urge to protect her with the shadow I cover her with. It's the strangest sensation to crave her warmth. I haven't craved anything in my entire life, other than to serve Father and achieve his love.
I am unsure what grandfather did for a living. He was already dead when I was born. Mother died when my younger brother Seth was two, and I am exactly nine months older. But between them Father has always had a mountain of wealth. When he set me my task, he gave me a substantial sum, ensuring that I only ever need work to maintain my cover and keep my skills honed.
Making this part of the Shauna plan simplistic to execute. I can give her anything she desires. But I shall only give her what she requires, for to desire is to lust. And she may only lust after me.
Turning from the newly delivered bed, now cosseted in fresh white silk, with an exceptionally large duvet to cover the extra length king sized bed, I smile with satisfaction. The soiled bed and linen I had them remove and take to the dump when they delivered this one. A persuasive tip was placed in a palm to do my bidding without argument.
On my way past the laundry basket I pause, open it, extract the underwear she wore last night, inhale deeply. What a good girl she has become. All she required was me. My instincts were infallible as usual. Hurling them back into the basket, I slam the lid down. I have a hunch which I cannot ignore any longer.
Creeping into her lounge I pick up the painting I bought for her this morning. Swiftly I cover the camera that I know is there. Hanging the picture deliberately to obscure the view from that lens.
Another day I'll install a new feed to this room. I just can't shake the feeling that someone has hacked this feed. Satisfied, I turn from it to stare at last night's access point. She listened. Perfect in a pink skirt. Easy access to what it covers, and perfectly feminine.
She's no longer fallen. She's an obedient angel who listens to her maker without question. Feeling potent, powerful, and strangely elevated, I go to check on my woman.
•
The Watcher:
I am THE watcher! That man is going to be disembowelled if I ever locate him.
> How he knew, I have no idea. But this black lens surges rage through me. He has no idea who he's messing with.
Death will be a mercy when we're done with him.
~ Chapter 21 ~
Photography, alone of the arts, seems perfected to serve the desire humans have for a moment – this very moment – to stay.
~Sam Abell
Shauna:
He won't let me see it. He insists on making me wait while he takes delivery of the new bed in my home. Instead I'm stuck in his, listening to yet another of my favourite bands.
It is pure serendipity that our tastes are so similar, while putting me to work chopping vegetables. He left precise instructions which I'm following to the letter. It slipped out during breakfast at a delightful café where we stopped to brunch, that I make killer Kahlua coffees. He's given me half an hour to have one ready and waiting for him after completing my task. I mean, what are the odds that he likes Point of View? Then it hits me.
My knees go weak as I grab a stool and sit on it heavily. It never occurred to me before that this song, Dirty Angel, sings of an angel. The lyrics creep all over me, 'I sit in that room again for days, holding every dream to death, wondering when it all could change, when would you see! When you take me to the angel's mind, show me how I could be fair, you know there's really nothing left to say, and that it's all you get and all that you could need, yeah it's all you get when love begins to breathe …'
I never saw him. And he kept telling me I was a fallen angel. I even bet this is his favourite fucking song. Song and lyrics by Point of View. I bet he just loves their point of view. I wonder if he watched me today to make sure I wore a skirt. Where is he? How the hell does he watch me? Is he even human?
“Holding every dream to death.”
Yelping in fright, my instinct is to laugh when I realise it's Victor whispering in my ear before nibbling my lobe. “You scared the hell out of me.”
