Henri watches the two with eager anticipation as Maurice removes her panties and displays the incredible beauty between her legs. The old wolf can feel the tension in his throat along with a throbbing erection that is more prescribed than inspired. He looks down at her small eighteen-year-old body, feeling waves of shame washing over him for the first time. A cold sweat begins to develop on his brow as Henri remembers Devlin’s interruption of his last session. His heart is racing, and he feels a distinct fear creeping down the back of his neck like some ghastly force is coming for him. He remembers the horrified look on Devlin’s face when he saw him touching the young, blind woman in the most intimate way. Henri’s hands begin to tremble, and he is suddenly enraged at Devlin, realizing that he never had these thoughts in previous encounters with other women.
He recalls that night when they were at a five star hotel: Henri, Maurice, and a young blind woman named Giselle. They had already made the switch after Maurice got the young woman worked up enough to perform, and Henri was just starting to indulge himself in the fine pleasures of her tight, young body. However, before he was able to get to the main event, Devlin burst through the door with his pistol drawn and forced The Congressman to the floor, bringing the festivities to an immediate halt. ‘Sit your old, fat ass down,’ Henri recalls Devlin saying as he pointed the pistol between his eyes. He thinks back to the objectionable stare that Devlin gave him when he saw what was happening. The look of both a betrayed son and a judgmental father, taking away Henri’s most prized source of pleasure and emotional satisfaction. Devlin called him a ‘coward’ and ‘pathetic puke,’ which would not have bothered Henri if he didn’t respect the man so much.
Henri is having a hard time breathing now; thick drops of sweat are running down his neck and chest. He doesn’t know what is causing him to feel so terrible. ‘There is nothing wrong with what we’re doing here,’ he tells himself, ‘the girl is consenting to intercourse. She can say no up until the point of penetration,’ Henri coaches himself silently, continuing to feel sick inside. He looks down with a terrified revelation; his erection has gone away. Henri tries to stare at the young woman to make the flesh willing again, but his body is shivering with anxiety, and he feels this overwhelming coldness in his stomach and the back of his throat. ‘I’m feeling guilty,’ he thinks to himself, watching his hands starting to tremble. The shaking becomes spasmodic, as though he has Parkinson’s disease. His entire body feels cold, sweaty, and peppered with shame. As he stands in the corner; he can see himself for the first time as a predatory pervert, remembering Devlin’s horrified stare. Henri tries to calm himself, but his heart and lungs are pumping like the engine of a steam train with a fully stocked fire.
He looks over at Maurice, his young brown eyes staring at Henri with confusion. Maurice gestures toward the young, naked woman with his face, raising his eyebrows at Henri and tipping his head to the side, indicating it is time for them to switch places.
Henri looks down at the young woman as she writhes in the bed. She is clearly turned on, with both of her hands between her legs, moving in a sensual manner, but still cautious and fragile in this new act. He nods his head for Maurice to exit the room, and walks over to the bed, kneeling down to wipe the sweat from his face and chest with the bedding and sheets.
The young woman is ablaze with lust and love. Henri tries to calm himself, watching those loving eyes looking up at him as he caresses her. His heart is ablaze with the desire for another person to look at him with so much sincere affection. He places his hands on her beautiful knees, feeling the soft skin and hoping that his internal conflict will soon dissipate. His hands move down the soft skin of her inner thighs, slowly massaging her muscular legs. He looks up at her beautiful, young face, and curly brunette hair, watching how inviting her movements are. Henri basks in the overwhelming approval of her soft touch on his shoulders, this incredible sensation of belonging somewhere, as though someone cares whether he lives or dies. He kisses the young woman’s knee and begins to caress her stomach, enjoying the dream of being wanted and adored. His eyes move down to her perfectly formed labia, knowing that a man has never been there before; a place sacred and exclusive. He smiles wickedly, knowing that he will be her first, and $20,000 is well worth the price of admission.
She begins to pull his hands further between her legs, and Henri pulls back, wanting to be immersed in this feeling of love and adoration. He continues to touch her slowly, massaging just her muscles and soft skin, needing to have a pure moment of mutual, sensual desire. The young woman begins to shake her hips a bit, impatient that he is not touching her most sensitive areas. Henri sneers with frustration at her animal desire, wanting to spend a few more minutes being adored and admired by her light touch.
“Stop teasing me, Maurice!” She begs, rocking her hips as she rubs herself between the legs.
“Slow…” Henri mutters in his best impersonation of Maurice.
“No, I want it now! Give it to me now!” She begs in a very unattractive manner, looking novice and weak with her inability to contain her lustful libido.
Henri feels a sense of rage building up inside of him, wanting the young woman to just enjoy this sensual massage. He needs her to look at him with that singular face of pure, unconditional love, but she is already demanding the hot and dirty sin. His mind starts to race, realizing that this may be another wasted $20,000, and more of his valuable time gone. He tries to massage her slowly and get her to cool off, but she refuses, and starts bouncing more lustfully on the bed, making sexual noises that break his concentration.
As he raises his head, Henri is met with a haunting scene, just inches from his eyes. The young woman’s head has been severed at the neck, grisly, jagged cuts, with blood dripping all around the cylinder of skin. The severed head is being held in front of him by an older woman with her entire face painted white, bearing dark black circles around her eyes, and ten black stitches painted on her lips. As the intruder turns her sinister green eyes upon him, the black paint on her nose is illuminated by the soft lighting of the hotel bedroom. She looks at him with fierce rage, holding the young woman’s head in her left hand and a bloody knife in her right. This ghastly creature is wearing a long, black, ceremonial robe, with knots tied over her shoulders and fabric that droops all the way to her feet. Her hair is wild; a mane of long, strong brunette locks that completes a beautiful and deadly woman. She is kneeling on the bed to the right of Leslie’s body, holding the severed head just six inches from Henri’s face.
“You will never touch innocent flesh again!” The woman threatens with her furious gaze and a voice that would cause lions to tremble.
Henri jumps backwards off of the bed, slamming his buttocks hard against the rough carpet. His vision suddenly goes dark, and he blinks several times, horrified by the realization that he cannot see.
“Maurice?” Leslie calls out from the bed. “Maurice, what’s wrong, we were just getting started?”
Henri begins to tremble as he hears someone get up from the bed and approach him. He slithers backwards until his shoulders and head smack into the wall.
“Maurice!” The young woman says unexpectedly from within a few inches of his face.
Henri is terrified now, feeling that the demon woman is pretending to sound like Leslie so that she can kill him more easily. His breathing elevates as she puts her hand on his chest, seeming compassionate and concerned.
“I am Henri! My name is Henri; not Maurice, and if you’re going to kill me, you twisted bitch, then let’s go!” Henri spews out with enraged satisfaction, waiting for the knife to come down on his chest.
“Who the hell are you!?” The young woman asks in a voice full of betrayal as she stands up and takes a few steps back. “Where is Maurice?”
Henri begins to breathe easier as he realizes that Leslie was not decapitated, and the vision he saw was just a hallucination.
“You’re still alive!” He says with a smile, feeling a small foot come down hard on h
is chest
“You sick bastards!” Leslie yells, as she begins to stomp on Henri’s naked body, delivering strong blows to his chest, stomach, and genitals, forcing him to gasp and protect himself.
Henri rolls onto his side, protecting his organs instinctively, and the young woman stops kicking after a few seconds. He remains curled up on the floor, still unable to see anything but darkness as he listens to her stomping through the room while she gathers up her clothing. His pain is much more than physical, as being rejected by the young woman destroys his fantasy completely, leaving him in a catatonic state of emotional abandon. Henri begins to cry as she slams the door, feeling cold in his aging skin, and knowing that his erotic adventures will never be enjoyable again.
Within a few minutes, he rolls over and sits up on the floor, feeling a bit better as he gets ready to return to regular life after another wasted $20,000 investment. His vision returns as he leans forward, and the devil woman is right there, leaning over him with her eyes fixed upon his. She grabs his throat with her mighty hand and slams his body against the thick wall of the hotel bedroom. Henri feels his larynx being constricted, and he tries to pry her fingers away using his left hand while jabbing her in the face with his right fist.
She releases his throat and punches him in the stomach with both hands, causing him to double over. Then she grabs the back of his neck, squeezing with the strength of a powerful man, dragging him into the bathroom where she smashes his head against the hard surface of the tub. Henri feels an immediate sting on his brow and forehead, echoes of pain reverberating through his skull at the speed of light.
There is a ringing in his ears now and he senses that the end is coming soon. Henri gets to a position on all fours, looking wildly at the woman’s powerful legs. He opens his mouth in a fevered panic and bites hard into her thick calf muscle, feeling his teeth tearing through her skin and sinewy muscle tissue. Like a ravenous dog fighting for survival, he shakes his head back and forth, and continues to tear the flesh of her leg, watching blood flow down his chin and smear his cheeks.
As she drops to her knees, Henri rises to his feet and leaps onto her back, wrapping his arms around her throat and squeezing with all of his strength. She spins around fiercely, rising to her feet again, despite the bite wound in her calf. Her muscular legs send them both into the wall of the shower. Henri holds on tight, constricting her airway further as the powerful, demonic creature continues to smash him into the shower with her back and legs. As she does this for the third time, he feels the stainless steel handles and shower head smash into his back and skull. The Congressman winces at the intense sting of blunt metal hammering against his spine and kidneys like a reverse battering-ram.
Henri screams like a wild man, squeezing as hard as he can until his muscles begin to tear from the effort. Finally, the hellish beating stops, and the woman drops to the floor of the large, white tub with Henri on her back. As he raises his head, Henri realizes that his vision has gone dark again. The cruel sting of being blind makes him shiver. He begins to cry with the immediate shock of lying naked next to a dead body in the tub. His hands are trembling as he reaches out to grip the wall, but he grabs the woman’s short ponytail instead. Henri freezes for a moment, not recalling that the ghastly creature had a ponytail. His mind goes numb when he realizes that the body next to him in the tub is also naked.
“Maurice?” He calls out in vain, hoping to hear the familiar response from his friend and employee. “Maurice!?”
Henri moves his hand around from the ponytail to the right ear of the body, feeling a familiar crucifix earring. He leaps out of the tub with the sudden cold sting of reality in the center of his gut, falling onto his back atop the surface of the cold tile. Henri lies there, shaking on the floor, horrified by what might come next.
“She’s still alive… Just finish me; I don’t want to suffer anymore!” Henri concedes, with tears streaming from his blinded eyes, feeling her presence in the room, immersed in fear and defeat as he waits in silence for his inevitable end.
END OF VOLUME I.
COMING SOON: She Is Risen: Torn The Langley Contour
Other books by this author:
Isiah’s Skirmish
The Golden Goose of Los Angeles
From the author: Thank you for taking the time to read my work, I hope this experience has been useful and exhilarating. Any reviews you might post will help me to better hone my skills.
Cheers,
–Irish.
Follow Irish on Twitter: @isiahsskirmish
She Is Risen (She Is Risen: The Gun Control Case Studies) Page 25
