by Morgan Hawke
“You can understand me?” Cassandra asked in some surprise.
“Of course. It is your power that lives within me, I hear you in here.” He tapped his brow. “My ears hear nonsense, but I understand you. It seems that I have reaped many benefits since you touched me with the gift of your kiss. I have a sense of someplace called North America, and music called Rock and Roll that whispers through my soul.” He finished in barely a whisper.
“I’m...pleased,” Cassandra said. Actually, she was seriously creeped the fuck out.
“Speaking of gifts, I would like to present my two brothers, and I ask that you bestow your kiss upon them as well.” Beside him stood two other musicians, one with a round frame drum and the other held an odd-looking violin-type instrument. Both of the other musicians appeared to be scared to death.
Cassandra stepped toward the two brothers. They practically shook with terror. “Are you sure I need to? They don’t look too happy about being kissed.”
“They must have your gift or they will not survive the evening.” He leveled his blazing eyes at the pair, promising retribution in their flaming depths. “They will not be able to accompany me without it. They will accept your kiss, or they will be dragged away by the Holy Inquisition where their deaths will be painful and slow.”
So much for brotherly love, Cassandra thought with a flinch.
He motioned to the brothers. A large man with a balding head and a huge mustache came forward first. “Kneel,” he was ordered by the Gypsy. The huge man dropped to his knees.
The power whispered up from her inner sea and lapped at the very edge of her thoughts. Gently Cassandra cupped his not-so-clean chin in her palm, and looked into his terrified eyes. Mouth open she kissed him. He opened his mouth under hers, his tongue reaching out to stroke hers gently. Cassandra felt the warm wave of power crest to the surface, then pour into the captive Gypsy.
He fell back stunned and blinking. His eyes glazed, then blazed forth with a look of vicious triumph. Sitting up he grabbed the last one by his slender arm and shoved him to his knees before Cassandra. The slender boy, no more than eighteen, gulped in fear but bravely tilted his chin up for his kiss and closed his eyes. Cassandra touched her lips gently to his, then felt the power arc and slam into his young frame.
He collapsed back onto the floor, stunned for a moment. After shaking himself like a wet dog, he rose with an ugly laugh, then stalked over to his brothers to slap them on the back. All three stood in a half-circle by Cassandra and smiled in ways their human mouths had never intended.
“You may call me Andre,” bowed the first Gypsy, the gold coins glittering on his coat in the candlelight. “And I am completely at your service, my Lady. He is called Balthazar,” Andre continued as he gestured toward the larger mustachioed Gypsy.
“I am at your service, Lady,” the large Gypsy with the bristling mustache bowed.
“And I am Nickos,” bowed the smallest of the three. “I am also at your service.
“We are all at your service,” they said in unison. All three sets of black eyes glittered with unholy light as they continued to smile in a completely inhuman manner. They all dipped into another bow, then turned as one and strode away. In a far corner, they settled onto cushions thrown on the marble floor, under a lit candelabrum, to tune their instruments. They watched her with hunger glittering in their eyes.
Okay, so that was just a bit too weird, even for me, she thought to herself. I wonder if that was a smart thing to do? Nonplussed, Cassandra moved away from them and started doing leg-stretching exercises. Not an easy thing in the bulky gown.
An army of servants suddenly poured silently from doors she hadn’t realized were there. Thick carpets were rolled out and laid on the marble floor. A throne-like heavy wooden and chair cushioned in red velvet was carried in and a small table was set beside it with an exquisite decanter of dark red wine. A single crystal goblet was set beside the decanter.
Cassandra eyed the chair. Where have I seen that chair before? She frowned grimly. Oh yes, the viewing...This is the same guy, all right.
A rope from the ceiling lowered a huge crystal chandelier. Candles were lit and the chandelier was raised, glowing like a captive star and filling the room with a blaze of light. Both fires were built up in the fireplaces to raging bonfires, filling the room with heat. Just as suddenly, the servants rushed out in a sudden tide of rustling fabric and withdrawing bodies. In minutes, Cassandra was alone again with only the three musicians.
Only moments later, the tinkling of bells announced the main doors being opened. Cassandra noticed the red hood and golden mane of the Monsignor as the curtain was lifted for him.
Cassandra dropped into a graceful bow. I simply must remember how to do this once I’m home!
The Monsignor seated himself in the velvet throne with two hulking, blank-faced guards at his back. One of the guards filled the glass from the decanter and handed it to him. The Monsignor sipped the red wine reflectively, then gestured with two fingers.
“You may begin,” he announced into the echoing silence.
The musicians struck a chord. In that instant she knew exactly what they were going to play. The modern rock music translated strangely through their medieval instruments, but the pounding tune was unmistakable. “Stairway to Heaven” had never sounded quite so exotic.
In response to their music, Cassandra’s power surged to the surface, from every pore of her skin to wrap her in a heated blanket. Cassandra felt a veil dropping over her eyes and thoughts.
No! She protested to the rising flood of demonic possession. I want to see this! The veil obligingly dropped away, but her body was no longer hers to command. The power inundated her completely and her possession was absolute. She abruptly whirled in a circle, cavorting to the smoky strains of the infernal rock music played by the possessed Gypsies.
The bejeweled pins flew from her flaming curls to scatter across the floor. The golden ribbon in her hair slithered out, her deep red mane cascading about her as she danced a raw mixture of jazz steps with unbelievable ballet leaps. Her slippers were lost on a pair of highflying kicks. The ties across her bodice came undone during a twirl and she froze, poised for a leap as the red velvet gown swirled around her to puddle on the floor in a rich crimson heap.
The music shifted to a slow sensuous piece. Revealed in her sheer golden chemise, she dropped to the floor and tiger-walked, crawling with a slow feral slink to the foot of the velvet throne. Gracefully, she rose to her knees, arms lifted above her head, lips parted, and eyes slitted as though in carnal delight. Arching backward, she touched her hands to the floor, then raised her hips and spread her knees wide in invitation, showing her shaved mound and damp inner lips peeking through the part of the golden slip.
Like a coiling snake, she slowly, slowly undulated her body then rolled over her head and under. Kicking her feet over her head, she lay face down on the floor, legs spread wide. In true stripper form, she rolled to her side, then bent her knee and raised one leg smoothly. Her scarlet nails trailed red lines across the tender skin of her inner thigh as she scored them aggressively. With an acrobatic roll she twisted sharply, then stood upright.
Glancing from beneath lowered lashes, Cassandra watched as the Monsignor’s mouth dropped open. As though unable to help himself, he sat forward on the edge of his throne. Taking this for an invitation, Cassandra’s possessed body swayed toward the young man to stand before him, her hips swaying and torso rolling hypnotically from side to side. She raised her arms and exquisitely undulated her entire body slowly before him, tempting him to reach out and undo the tiny bows that held her golden chemise together.
She purred as he reached out his soft fingers and pulled the golden ribbon ties. The chemise fell in a whisper of silk, revealing her pointed nipples and pouting breasts. Her muscular stomach rolled under his warm fingers as he touched her heated flesh. Slowly she turned to present her rounded buttocks, shaking them, the flesh jiggling invitingly. She dropped her hands to the floor as
she stood straight-legged, presenting him with a close view of her most feminine flesh, the folds parting to his hungry eyes.
“Not a mark on you,” he said in wonder. “Not a single imperfection anywhere,” he sighed.
The music whirled her away and she danced as only naked flesh could, without bindings or restraints. Her hair flying and muscles straining, she leapt and rolled, shivered and displayed herself to the Monsignor’s hungry gaze, and she danced, and she danced.
“Enough!” the Monsignor suddenly shouted.
The music crashed to a halt and Cassandra fell in a graceful obeisance, centered on the carpet.
“Leave us!” he roared. The Gypsies rushed out, but the guards were hesitant.
“Do you think I can’t defend myself against one naked girl?” he shouted angrily. The guards fled.
Goody! Goody! Goody! ran in hysterical circles through Cassandra’s mind. Alone at last!
“And now my sweet, come here,” the Monsignor commanded.
She approached the throne, creeping across the rug, eyes demurely lowered, veiling her intent, on her hands and toes like a languorous cat advancing on the poor unsuspecting pigeon.
Still wrapped in a warm sheet of demonic power, Cassandra’s body slithered up the throne without touching a single fold of his robes. Shyly, she gripped the arms of the heavy wooden chair then leaned toward the seated Monsignor, presenting her body for his perusal.
The Monsignor’s palm touched the fine silk of her hair and he ran his fingers through her soft tresses. His fingers trailed to the very ends of her curls where they rested against her breast. His fingers continued across the softness of her skin, then cupped her fullness in his cool dry palm.
“You are exquisite, like a fine sculpture, Serena,” he whispered. His fingers found and explored a dusky pink nipple. Little jolts of pleasure streaked straight to her greedy pussy, making it contract hungrily. “I have never seen a woman as fine as you. Where did you come from?”
“I’m from Canada,” she whispered as she knelt before the velvet throne. Naturally, the spell that the Magister placed on her scrambled her speech, not that the Monsignor would have known where Canada was anyway.
“What a lovely voice,” the Monsignor mused as his other hand reached out to cup her other breast. “But, Lord Chevalier le Duc did tell me that you could not speak our language, although you would understand something of what was said.”
Cassandra nodded with a soft moan as he played with her nipples, exploring them then gently tugging on them.
“And so, because you cannot speak, you cannot share secrets. Is that not so, my little morsel?” His breath deepened to pants. His crystalline blue eyes were dilated with restrained desire. He licked his full pink lips.
Cassandra nodded again.
“Good,” the Monsignor growled in satisfaction, then dipped his head to her breast and took a nipple into his hungry mouth.
Cassandra moaned and turned her face carefully away. She could feel the blaze of hell-fire heating her eyes.
He sucked hard on her sensitive nipple, cupping her breast and nursing as though starved. A trembling hand slid down her lightly curved belly to touch her trimmed mound. His fingers tugged at the short pelt sharply. A tiny whimper was surprised out of her, which seemed to please him. His fingers dipped lower to her wet folds, then he abruptly slid two fingers up into her. Cassandra hissed as he spread his fingers wide, scissoring them in her damp heat. She moaned in pleasure and rocked against his hand like a cat seeking to be stroked.
“I have never touched a one as fine as you, Serena” he sighed. “You seem to be enjoying it too. No whimpering refusals of piety from your red lips?”
Cassandra answered with a breathy sigh.
“No declarations of love either? Not that I would understand your gibberish,” he mused aloud in curiosity. “You are a carnal little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was low and hoarse, betraying his own rising carnal needs. “Down!” he commanded, his voice harsh whisper. “Get on the floor.”
Chapter Six:
Scourged
It’s about damned time he decided to fuck me, Cassandra thought as she dropped full-length and face down on the thick carpet at the Monsignor’s feet, staring at his slippers. There was a rustle of fabric, and she watched as heavy red ecclesiastical robes landed on the floor by her head.
“Turn around and face the door, quickly!” snarled the Monsignor. “Now, bring that lustful ass of yours up. Higher!”
Cassandra complied, presenting her softly rounded bottom and the plump folds of her pussy to his view as he instructed. She turned to look over her shoulder. He was wearing only a thin white silk shift tied with a knotted rope. He undid the knot as she watched.
Well, well, well, she thought in surprise, noticing the pronounced bulge tenting his robe. Who would have thought that such a little boy could hide such a large package?
“Keep your head down!” he snapped as he tugged the rope free. “Cross your ankles.”
Cassandra ducked her head, resting it on her folded arms as she complied with his heated instructions. Crossing her ankles tucked her damp snatch within the protection of her ass-cheeks. She angled her head just a tiny bit so she could see him from the corner of her eye. He had wrapped the rope around his fist, with several of the knotted loops swinging free.
“I will purge myself of these filthy, lustful thoughts,” he hissed.
Oh shit! Cassandra had time to think when she heard the rope whistling through the air. It smacked into her left ass-cheek, and she yelped more in surprise than in any real pain. Another whistle sounded, then another loud smack, this time on her right ass-cheek. She heard herself squeak, and suddenly the blows were raining too fast for her to react to all of them. The warm burn was strangely pleasurable. From the strength of the arm he used to flog her, it should hurt a hell of a lot more.
“I am a righteous man, I am a righteous man,” she heard him muttering over and over as he swung. She could hear him panting as he flogged her.
The Monsignor grunted in effort as he carefully placed his blows on her ass, across her bowed back and around her thighs. The individual blows did not feel all that harsh, but one on top of the next succeeded in causing her to writhe as her ass heated up quickly. She arched her back and whimpered against the onslaught, whimpering in agonizing carnal, feral excited appetite. He was turning her on in a big way.
“I will purge your body of its carnal hunger as I purge mine,” he snarled through clenched teeth. Then he stopped. Cassandra collapsed on the floor. Hot tears slid down her flushed cheeks.
These tears are absolutely fake, she thought in surprise. Like crocodile tears, Cassandra thought to herself as she peeked at the panting Monsignor. I’m not in any real pain. If anything she was feeling very close to climaxing. Her pussy was dripping down her thighs and on the rug. Spanking had always been a sure way to turn her on in a hurry, but this guy was serious and the Monsignor sure knew what he was doing with that rope. She should have been bloody.
The Monsignor came forward then knelt right in front of her and lifted her tear-streaked face in his palms. His cock was standing practically straight up against his belly under his loose transparent robe.
“Forgive me, little one,” he murmured as he touched her tears with gentle fingers. His eyes grew hot as he stroked her face. “It was necessary,” he said softly. “It was for your own good. I did it to save your soul.”
Well, what do you know? Cassandra thought sarcastically as she veiled her eyes. He gets off on beating people to tears. The power possessing her body must have known exactly what the Monsignor had wanted, because he was sporting one hell of a hard-on. The Monsignor curled his body over her face, practically rubbing his erection against her lips.
Hell! Even I can take a hint! Cassandra thought in triumph. Her hands were under his robe and around his iron hard cock in a flash. She slid the cock sheath of his uncircumcised prick down, revealing the sensitive purple head. Before he c
ould pull away, Cassandra lunged forward then wrapped her lips around the swollen knob. With a skillful shove on his bare ass, she tipped him off-balance over her body and sucked him deep into her throat -- straight down to the short and curlies.
The Monsignor gasped as he fell on top of her body. He caught himself on his hands, his nose practically buried in her reddened ass. He froze in astonishment, then choked as his body took over. His hips began to hunch, fucking her mouth. He moaned out loud, unable to stop the course of pleasure through his young body.
I’m gonna make this fucker cum...Cassandra growled to herself. Using every skill she could think of, Cassandra sucked for all she was worth. Her tongue lashed the rock-hard cock sliding in and out of her heated mouth. She balanced on her elbows, using her hands to massage his balls and milk his shaft. She could feel how close he was to the edge, his movements were becoming frenzied and he moaned as though in pain. Any time now, she thought in delight.
The Monsignor gave a shout, then abruptly rolled away, his cock still hard, his lust still unfulfilled.
Well, shit, thought Cassandra as she lay on the floor, her knees tucked up under her. Now what? I never thought he’d last even that long. Cassandra kept her head down and peeked through her lashes. Damn.
The Monsignor climbed to his feet and walked in a circle around her. Sexual frustration was written in every line of his body. His eyes shone with feral heat as his gaze devoured her prone form.
“Up!” he barked. “Up on your knees and we shall pray, my little carnal beast,” he growled. “Together.”
Cassandra quickly sat up on her knees pressing her hands together and bowing her head in an attitude of prayer. The false tears started down her cheeks once more. She sank down, sitting on her heels.
“I said up, you little beast!” The monsignor barked. The knotted rope made swift contact with her still-sore bum. Cassandra rose to balance on her knees with some speed. To her complete surprise, the Monsignor dropped to his knees directly behind her, then scooted close, his knees straddling the outsides of her shins. The light fur of his legs brushed against the smooth softness of the stockings she still wore. He wrapped his arms around her body; his hands clasped her pressed palms, then lifted her hands until her breasts were completely exposed.
