Serving the Immortals

by Katie Douglas

  One night, I finished work tired and with sore feet, the same as every other day, and like usual, I trudged back to the room I shared with various girls I didn’t know. Some only stayed a night, others remained a week; none had lingered there as long as I had. I started to wonder if I should just go home to the safety of my grandmother’s house; hide under her skirts like a new puppy. It would be easy, though, and I was full of an arrogant whimsy that I might yet be able to find something in this decaying city of late-night vomit and pretentiousness that might satisfy me. I yearned for something, but I didn’t know what it was or how to find it.

  As I turned past an alleyway littered with discarded take-away containers and broken glass bottles, I remembered the woman in the black dress, who had turned me over her knee and spanked me, before binding me in place and putting me entirely under her control. Had she been real, or had my imagination dreamt her up to alleviate my loneliness? I couldn’t be sure, but I wished she were here.

  As though hearing my thoughts, a shadow appeared at the end of the street. My mind jumped to conclusions and I ran toward the figure, then came to an abrupt halt when I realized it was a man in a Cossack coat. I tried to be casual as I passed him, but I couldn’t evade his hand as he reached out and brushed my shoulder. Before he could speak, I started running again, not caring which direction I took, cursing my own stupidity.

  I reached the bunkhouse tired and cold, wishing contrarily for the Languedoc summer I had abandoned two months earlier. Four of the beds were untouched, but the fifth contained a sleeping figure. I paid her no mind as I climbed into my own bed, and soon the warmth rushed through my body under the covers. My eyes began to close.

  “Come and play with me!” A childlike voice called out to me. I snapped my eyes open but the light was out. I closed my eyes again. The air was more frosty than before, so I huddled further under the blankets.

  “Come and play, Sabine.” How did anyone here know my name? In the orange light from the street outside, filtering in through the cheap curtains, I saw a figure standing on the window ledge. She had golden hair and a billowing, pale dress. Was she a banshee? Her voice had a thick Eastern European accent and I wondered if it was another of those vivid dreams.

  “Sabine! I have been waiting,” she said, with an air of indignance. If this was a dream, what was the harm in following her? I rose from my bunk and slipped my shoes on, then tiptoed across the polished wooden floor to the window. The young woman’s feet floated six inches off the ledge, and her face was familiar but strange at the same time. I took her plump hand when she held it out. Her skin was ice-cold.

  “Sabine’s coming to play!” she cried, and before I could stop her, she leapt out of the window, which was inexplicably open. Since my hand was being held in hers, I was pulled out of the window with her. There wasn’t enough time to scream before I realized we were gracefully floating toward the ground two floors below. When my feet touched the pavement, it was reassuringly solid, and I was glad we hadn’t passed through it into the underworld, or whatever other nightmarish place my dreams could contrive.

  “How do you know my name?” I asked. I hadn’t made many friends here; the other waitresses almost exclusively spoke a coarse colloquial Czech dialect, and were suspicious of strangers besides. They liked to whisper to one another and giggle, and I didn’t have any interest in deducing who the subject of their derision was.

  “You are marked, Sabine. All the sanguine ones can find you. Don’t you want to make friends?”

  “I don’t know you,” I replied. Her eyes were darkest black, and her ringlets were golden against her bronzed skin. She would have been classically beautiful, except the shadows under her eyes made her look anemic.

  “I’m called Hannah. It’s the same back to front.” She spoke in a strange tone that seemed simultaneously world-weary and juvenile.

  “Are you a child?” I asked; in the dark, I couldn’t be sure if the nightdress were making her look larger than she really was, and her voice sounded quite childlike, which made me doubt my eyes.

  “I am one hundred and seventy-five,” she replied. Her voice sounded like it was straining against a silky restraint. If she felt the need to lie about her age, she didn’t need to be so obvious about it.

  “Why did you come to me?” I asked, still suspicious.

  “I said before; you are marked.”

  “In what way? By whom?”

  She paused for a long moment before she answered me.

  “The mistress. You are under her protection. You belong to her, until she decides what to do with you.”

  I shook my head to dismiss this nonsense. There was nobody looking after me. Somebody would have to want me first, and no one did. I’d never been asked on a date by anyone I’d consider accepting one from. Even my parents had left me in favor of the graveyard.

  “Maybe you are so lonely that you don’t know how to make friends any longer. Come and play in the darkness.” Hannah stroked my arm in a way that sent chills through me, and I felt my clit throbbing with desire as she wrapped her long fingers around my wrist. I did want a friend, and as I compared her size to mine, I realized she was clearly an adult despite the old-fashioned ringlets and billowing dress.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Too many questions, Sabine. Cast them away and let the tide of events carry you along in its current.” She led me past many familiar streets and into a part of Prague I’d never seen before. Under the sodium streetlights, it looked like we could have crossed into Dante’s inferno. The old buildings were tall and huddled together for solidarity; there were narrow alleyways, four or five feet wide at most, passing deeper into the heart of the slums. The walls were curving under the weight of the centuries, pressing the alleys to even narrower pinch-points, and the black stones were slicked with shining water from the drizzle that penetrated Prague’s streets that evening. The temperature wasn’t conducive to late-night sightseeing.

  Seeing more clearly in the orange lights, I gazed at her feminine curves as her now-soaked nightdress clung to her body. “How can you stand the cold in that flimsy dress?” I asked Hannah, as we turned down yet another of the warren-like pathways.

  “The sanguine ones are unharmed by such fleeting conditions as the weather. Does it bother you?”

  “No, not really,” I lied; I was starting to shiver and my hair was dripping moisture onto my shoulders. It seemed like a strangely harsh edge to a dream, but then, this whole sojourn was bordering on becoming a nightmare.

  “When you are my sister, you will not be concerned by precipitation; who knows, perhaps you will learn how to become a mist one day, and interweave yourself with the falling droplets of water. Then playtime would become much more interesting.” She was still not really explaining what she meant, and I was getting bored of following her down ever-diminishing tunnels.

  “What if I don’t want to play?” I demanded, trying to stand still. Her grip on my arm was like being attached to an obstinate horse, and the stubborn power of her movement dragged me along behind her, until I had no choice but to follow her again.

  “If you didn’t want to play, you would be at home in your bed, Sabine.” She reached a wall that was solid and very tall, and only punctuated by a strange wooden door that was about four feet high. Hannah opened it, then she released my wrist and ducked through the door. I looked around the small dead end, but I was surrounded by high walls and I didn’t know how to get out of this place without her, so I followed. On the other side of the door, I caught a glimpse of her white dress up ahead, so I went that way, through an even smaller doorway, barely two feet square. I emerged on what looked like the edge of a ravine, and I remembered then that Prague had once had a moat around it, before streets had been built on top. This must have been an entrance to one of the oldest, most forgotten parts of the town. I looked around for Hannah but I couldn’t find her. Unable to turn around through the tiny door, I pressed ahead, struggling to see anything.


  Chapter Three

  Deeper into the underground ruins of the old town hidden under the city, I found Hannah in what seemed to be an old, abandoned church. I’d been drawn to it by the dim light emanating through the main door. Inside, the altar was cracked in half, and Hannah reclined on the flagstones, watching my entrance. Her hair was splayed out on the ground like a golden halo around her head, and her black eyes pierced me from across the aisle.

  “You found me,” she murmured, and then she pouted. “I wanted to make you search for longer.”

  “Why didn’t you hide better, then?” I asked. Why was I even going along with this silliness? I should have demanded she show me the way home, but instead I crossed the church and sat beside her, drinking in her form as the candles flickered. Her dress had become transparent from the drizzle during our long walk, and now it clung to her body, showing her prominent breasts and sensual curves. I wondered what color her nipples were, because through the wet fabric, they looked dark pink, almost purple.

  My own nipples started to ache to be touched by her feminine hands. I had never made the first move before, and I suddenly felt overcome with an uncharacteristic shyness.

  “You like what you see?” When she spoke, I looked up to her face, and I felt embarrassed when I realized she was staring straight into my eyes, and must have seen the way I was looking at her.

  “You’re… stunning,” was all I could think to say. Inside, I knew I was crashing and burning. She giggled, her voice still seductive, and she writhed slightly on the floor before gracefully sitting upright and sliding toward me. She leaned in close, and I could feel her warm breath on my cheek.

  “Let’s skip to the part where I kiss you,” she uttered, and when I opened my mouth to retort, she pressed her lips to mine. They were plump and firm, but soft against my own lips, and when her tongue darted past my teeth, I swooned slightly as she explored my mouth. Her hands were caressing me, and I pressed my hungry nipples against her body, savoring the feel of her full, rounded breasts against me. I wanted to bury my face in them, but then I would have to stop kissing her.

  After she pushed me away from her lips and undressed me, I peeled her sodden dress away from her cold skin, and drank in the sight of her breasts, perfectly proportioned for her soft, curvy body. Her shape suited her so well that I wanted to never look away from her figure.

  Hannah ran her fingers through my light brown hair, which looked mousey in comparison with her own golden curls. What could she possibly see in me? I was reminded of the woman in the black dress; they were similar, in that they inspired me to go along with what they wanted, and they were both highly sexual beings. Were they kindred spirits, or was it coincidental that they both had black eyes?

  “Lie down on the floor, face up,” she ordered. I wanted to do whatever she told me, I needed to make her happy, so I complied. I watched her straddle me and grind her naked pussy into mine, causing me to moan softly, before she leaned down and took one of my nipples into her mouth. She flicked her tongue against it and waves of joy made me arch my back toward her. When my nipple was hard, she released it, the air felt cooler against it now that it was wet. I gasped as she took my other breast in her mouth, licking it sweetly, before she relinquished it and put a hand to my pussy.

  Her cool touch felt like the time I had experimented with putting an ice cube down there, and I felt a drizzle of liquid escaping toward my ass. I needed to feel her inside me.

  I didn’t have to wait for long; she circled my opening with her fingertip, making me ache for her, and when she slid her finger inside me, I moaned again, this time with more urgency. It felt so good to be touched there, and then she started to twirl her finger in a circle inside me, while she worked my clit with her other hand. She knew exactly what she was doing, and under her expert ministrations I felt amazingly intense sensations radiating from my G-spot and through my core. I wanted more. I pulled my legs wider apart and hoped she would fill me further. When a second finger joined the first, I nearly felt tears in my eyes as I got ever closer to release.

  I trembled as I felt ready to climax, then she did something unexpected; she withdrew. From my position on the floor I looked up at her in surprise.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I asked, missing her touch already.

  “No. I just want to play another game,” she purred. I wondered what she would make me do for an orgasm. “You are going to lick my pussy. The longer it takes for you to make me come, the more I will spank you afterwards, which means you will have to wait longer for your own orgasm, so you’d better hurry up.”

  She sat back with her legs parted, and in the flickering candlelight I could see her hairless lips, glistening slightly, awaiting my attention. I got on my knees and leaned forward, my chin nearly touching the ground, as I reached my tongue out. I’d never licked another girl before, so I was more than a little hesitant, until she put her hands on the back of my head and unceremoniously held my face against her hot pussy. My tongue found the little triangle of skin protecting her clit, and I massaged it with the tip. The taste was tangy and very faintly floral, and as I lapped at her clit I felt it getting wetter. My nipples brushed against the stone floor as I worked her clit, which seemed to engorge and throb as I kept going. Soon, she was sighing and giggling as I kept up my attentions, then she held my head harder, contorting slightly as she came. After she had stilled for a moment, seemingly lost in her ecstasy, she reached out and patted me on the head.

  “You did well, so I’m only going to spank you for a few minutes.” She pulled away from my face and gracefully went to sit on a wooden pew, then patted her knee.

  “What is it with sexy black-eyed women wanting to spank me?” I wondered aloud, not getting up.

  “If you don’t do as I say, I will make you stand in the naughty corner. Don’t make me compel you,” she warned. I wondered what she meant, and I didn’t want to get spanked, so I shook my head and remained where I was.

  “Bad girl, Sabine; undress right now, then get over my knee.” Her voice had a darker tone to it than before, and I had no choice but to do as she asked. I wanted to resist, but my body seemed to be moving to obey her, and to my mild horror I found myself peeling my wet nightgown off, discarding it on the floor and shivering slightly as the air touched my skin. I didn’t see why she wanted to spank me, and I didn’t care to know, either. The idea of feeling so helpless and humiliated again filled me with dread. As I tried to resist, she reached out and took my wrist. She gently pulled me over her soft knee, and I trembled, naked, awaiting her hand. I felt bare and embarrassed to be unclothed and exposed while this stranger, who I’d never met before tonight, carefully arranged me so my bottom was tipped high and my face was near the floor.

  “I was going to only give you a few, but you were a very bad sister and you didn’t play nice, so now you get a very red bottom.” She brought her hand down and I squeaked in surprise. For such a cute-seeming girl, she spanked hard! I wriggled and fought but she had easily overpowered me, and after a series of resounding cracks I was busy trying to not cry. Not here.

  She paused for a moment and spoke again. “You are playing a very dangerous game, Sabine, and I don’t like being disobeyed. Are you going to do what I say from now on?” She trailed her fingers over my stinging cheeks and I wanted her touch inside me again, but I wasn’t going to agree to do anything she told me to. I was resolute, except that my body seemed to be disagreeing with me about this, because my pussy wanted her to fuck me.

  “I don’t like being spanked,” I grumbled. The palm of her hand landed on the crest of my buttocks and I squeaked.

  “When the mistress claims you, you will need sisters. And little sisters do what their big sisters tell them to. And I want to spank you, so you have to let me.” She began spanking me again. The noise was deafening as it echoed around the ruined building, and in the face of this completely nonsensical situation I began to cry. Her hand was relentless, burning my rear as she seemed to unerring
ly find the most sensitive areas to strike. I tried to kick again but she still held me fast and there was nothing I could do to stop her onslaught of sharp smacks. My bottom was burning and every fresh spank made me cry harder. It was all so confusing and unfair.

  She kept going, and I don’t think she was waiting for me to apologize, because I refused to say a word, but she eventually stopped spanking me. I felt her turning me upright then she spoke again. Once I stood, my bottom seemed to be throbbing through the scalding pain. I couldn’t help wondering what it looked like.

  “Go and stand in that corner, and think about what you did. If you can’t say you’re sorry when I call you back, then I will have to teach you a much harder lesson, because that’s what big sisters do when their little sisters don’t listen to them,” she spoke with so much childlike bossiness that I felt like I was being punished by a babysitter for not eating my dinner. I went to the corner.

  Why did I keep doing what she said? How was she doing that? It made no sense, and the thing I couldn’t figure out, more than anything else, was why my clit was pulsating like a landing light, matching my behind, which glowed like a beacon, I discovered when I sneaked a glance at it. My cries subsided to sniffles and I wished she wasn’t seeing me like this. I had disappointed her somehow by not playing her game. Hadn’t I been wishing for a friend earlier, before I went to bed? Now I had made one, and I was already being disagreeable. Even if this was a dream-friend, wouldn’t I dream up someone I wanted to be around? What was wrong with me?

  I needed to come more than ever, and when she called me back, I stood awkwardly in front of her, trying to make myself smaller.

  “Did you want to say something?” she prompted. I nodded, feeling like I should have just played her game.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and when her face broke out into an enormous smile, I felt like everything was right with the universe again.

  “I forgive you, but next time you disobey me I’ll punish you harder. I don’t… I don’t like compelling people, and if I have to do it again to make you do what I want, you really won’t like the consequences.”