by Amy Cross
D'Oyly and Blake talk for a moment. With a heavy heart, I realize that Blake must have been watching the hotel all this time, in which case he's very much aware of Inspector Matthews' arrival. Eventually the pair of them part ways, with D'Oyly heading inside and Blake lighting up a cigarette. It's quite clear that they have a plan, and it's one that will initially be executed by D'Oyly. I look up at the top of the hotel and imagine Matthews sneaking about in the penthouse, unaware that D'Oyly is on his way back up. There's nothing I can do to help him, though. Saving Matthews' life might be possible in the short-term, but I'd only be condemning us both to a fairly swift death in the days to come. Dealing with these people requires tact and patience, two qualities that Inspector Matthews seems to be lacking. Fortunately, I've never been a sentimental man and I'm more than willing to loiter here in the darkness while Matthews meets his inevitable fate. Finally, Blake wanders along the street and down a small alley that undoubtedly leads to the back of the hotel.
Rest in peace, Inspector John Matthews.
I make my way carefully through the park, keeping an eye on the hotel until I finally reach the street corner, at which point I hurry across the road and take up position near the tradesman's entrance around the back of the hotel. Sure enough, after a few minutes, I see activity nearby, and a carriage pulls up. I watch as Vincent D'Oyly and Harrison Blake load a large bag into the back of the carriage, and it's quite clear that the bag contains Matthews' dead body. The two men then climb into the carriage, which heads off along the road. I hurry after them, figuring I should be able to keep up even though I'm on foot. This late at night, the streets are fairly clear, and my targets will be careful to go slowly in order to avoid attracting the attention of the police. They'll just make their way steadily to wherever they intend to dump Matthews' body, and I should have no trouble staying in touch.
Darting along the street, I'm able to keep the carriage in view at all times, and eventually I watch as they head over the bridge to the south side of the city. After another half hour, they come to a halt down by the water in a desolate and abandoned part of the industrial dockland. I take up position nearby, and I watch as the two men maneuver Matthews' body out of the carriage and drag it along a small quay. With absolutely no ceremony, they dump the body into the dark water before standing back and watching as it sinks into the depths. I have no doubt that I will be joining Matthews if I'm not careful, but fortunately I'm rather more careful and circumspect than he could ever have been, so I stay in the shadows as D'Oyly and Blake climb back into the carriage and set off on their journey back to Mayfair. I don't bother keeping up this time, since I have no need to see where they're going. Their night's work is over, and they've done what they needed to do. Once they are out of sight, I wander over to the water's edge and stare down into the darkness. It's hard not to wonder just how many bodies they've dumped in this stretch of water. I'm quite certain that Edward Lockhart is probably here, along with most of the girls who have gone missing in recent years. The bodies are probably picked at by the creatures of the deep, with any remaining parts being carried downriver by the strong current.
Strolling home along the dark streets, I realize that I must bring my plan forward. Tonight's events have at least shown me that I have the right suspects in mind. Vincent D'Oyly and Harrison Blake are dangerous murderers, and I must assume that my suspicions regarding Lady Henrietta deHavilland are also correct: together, these three make up the unholy trinity of Mr. Blue, Mr. White and Lady Red. I have dealt with some disreputable types of the years, but these people are by far the most dangerous. As Inspector Matthews has just learned to his cost, one wrong move is all it takes.
I need to find John the Pig.
Elly
Today
As Mark climbs on top of me, I open my legs wider and wrap them around his hips, pulling him closer. He reaches down and adjusts himself, and finally I feel the tip of his penis pressing against my labia. Moments later, the dome is finally inside, nestling in my moist entrance. He stares down into my eyes, a look of total concentration on his face, and for a moment we stay like this, poised on the edge of penetration. It's a primal moment; no words are needed, and it's almost as if we understand each other completely. I feel the tip of his penis throb slightly, and finally, I use my feet to push against his firm ass, and he slips further inside. He leans down and kisses me delicately on the lips, and I feel his penis slide all the way into me, until eventually his balls are pressed against my taint and I'm completely filled by his manhood. He's so warm and hard, so long and wide, I'm almost nervous to make any kind of movement. As our lips dance together, I reach around and place my hands on his firm, strong back, and I wait for him to start making love to me.
"You're not a virgin, Elly," he whispers, "are you?"
"No," I say, although I feel like this might as well be my first time. When I slept with Rob, it was quick and very animal-like; he merely shoved his penis inside and started pounding away. Maybe there's some benefit to that kind of rough physicality, but it wasn't particularly pleasurable and, if anything, there was a little pain. Still, I've heard that the first time for a girl is often painful, so at least I've got that out of the way. This time, with Mark, it's going to be different. Just from the way he touches me, and the way he kisses me, I can tell he's a completely different type of man.
"But you're not experienced," he continues. "You haven't been with many men."
I stare at him for a moment. Why is he asking me this? "No," I say eventually. "Does it matter?"
"Of course not," he replies, kissing my face just to the side of my mouth. "I just like to know these things."
"What about you?" I ask, feeling a little bold.
He smiles. "Am I a virgin?"
"Are you experienced?"
"Yes," he says after a brief pause. "I am. Does it matter?"
"No," I say, smiling. "I just want to fuck you."
He shifts his position a little, before slowly sliding his penis out of me until only the tip is inside, and then he slips it all the way back in; he repeats this movement, keeping a careful rhythm going, and I feel a tingle run up from my crotch and fill my chest. Because of his circumcision, Mark has a slightly pronounced tip, which means that there's a particularly prominent rim around the dome of his penis, which means that I can feel a very strong sensation of movement as he slowly makes love to me, as the rim edges along the inside of my vagina. It's hard to describe the sensation, but it's much more sensitive than anything I ever had with Rob, especially when Mark slides his penis almost all the way out and I feel the tip brush against my labia. Rob was always so fast and keen, but with Mark everything feels very deliberate, as if he's in complete control.
"Bite me," he whispers suddenly.
I open my mouth to reply, but I'm not certain I heard him properly.
"Elly, bite me," he says again, a little short of breath. "My shoulder."
I pause for a moment, and then I realize I have to do what he asks. I guess this is the hidden side he mentioned earlier, the darker part of our love-making that he was worried I wouldn't be able to accept. I lean close to his shoulder and place my teeth on the skin, and finally I bite down on him. Immediately, I feel his body jolt slightly and he once again changes position, becoming more animated as he starts thrusting harder. It's as if I've unlocked some other side of his passion.
"Harder," he gasps. "Don't be afraid of hurting me. You can't."
Although it feels somehow wrong, I bite a little harder and then, after a moment, harder still. He starts thrusting even more firmly inside me, and now my whole body is juddering under the sheer force of his power. I tighten my legs around him, in an attempt to contain his growing fury, and I feel the base of his penis start to press more firmly against my clitoris. As a shiver of pleasure starts to build in my crotch, I lift my mouth from his shoulder for a moment and take a deep breath before biting him again. As he gets faster and faster, he strains his body more and more and he lifts his
torso slightly. I wrap my arms tightly around him and allow myself to be lifted slightly off the bed, hanging onto him as I bite down on his skin once again. This time, it feels different; I can feel the muscles in his neck and shoulder becoming more and more tense, and he gasps breathlessly as he fucks me harder and harder.
"More," he gasps.
Without hesitation, I bite down a little harder, and after a moment I feel one of my teeth break through the surface of his skin. The sweet, iron taste of blood seeps into my mouth, but although my first instinct is to let go, I force myself to keep biting down on him. It's as if the sensation of being bitten has unleashed a whole new side to his passion, and he's not making love to me with such force that my body is jolting with each thrust. I cling onto him, hanging from his body a couple of inches above the bedsheets, feeling almost as if he's challenging me to keep up with him, and I brace myself for the fury of his orgasm. I want more than anything to feel him unload himself inside me, to feel the full power of his ecstasy deep within my vagina. I can't help feeling that with each thrust, I'm getting closer to the real Mark Douglas, and that when he reaches orgasm I'll finally get to glimpse his raw soul with all the artifice and manners stripped away. All I have to do is stay the course and make sure I don't slip away, even though it's getting harder and harder to hang on. To galvanize my efforts, I bite down even more firmly on his shoulder; something tells me, however, that no matter how hard I bite, I'm never going to go too far. With Mark, there's no such thing as going too far.
Suddenly I feel a slight change in the pressure he's exerting on my clitoris, and it's as if he's unlocked some new level of pleasure. I grunt, trying desperately to hold onto his torso and keep my teeth latched onto his shoulder. Up until this point, I'd been building slowly toward a peak of pleasure, but now I feel that I'm losing control of my own body. I tighten my legs around him, and I try to hold back the orgasm, but I'm not sure if I can withstand his passion for much longer. I start to tense my entire body, and I close my eyes as I feel the familiar build-up of pure ecstasy stirring in my loins. As I try to resist, I bite down harder and harder on his shoulder until finally I feel the flesh start to stretch a little more. I keep going, and suddenly I feel his skin tear yet again. Shocked, I force myself not to let go.
And then suddenly I reach orgasm again.
Unable to hold back any longer, I grasp him so tight it's almost as if I'm trying to pull his body into mine. I open my mouth and let go of his shoulder, and I let out a shocking scream as Mark fucks me with animal-like intensity. It's like nothing I've ever known before, with the pure power of the orgasm radiating out from my vagina in a series of unbearably powerful waves that judder my entire body. I clutch his body as tight as possible while letting out a series of loud gasps and moans, and I feel his penis thrusting deep into my vagina. Just as the pleasure starts to abate, I feel him slightly change the angle of his thrusts, and it's as if a whole new wave of pleasure is building. I let go of Mark's torso and drop flat on my back, staring up at him as I feel a second orgasm build, and finally I cum again; this time, it's less overwhelming, but it feels somehow sharper and more focused in my clitoris. I let out a few short gasps, and finally it subsides and I bite my bottom lip as I stare up into Mark's eyes. He slows down a little but keeps his penis inside as he smiles breathlessly.
"What about you?" I whisper.
"Soon," he replies.
I look at his shoulder and see, to my surprise, that I made quite a nasty cut in his skin. The flesh has been perforated in two distinct places, and there's a trickle of blood running from the wound. I never realized I'd bitten him quite that hard. Wiping my hand across my lips, I see another spot of blood.
"Did it hurt?" I ask.
He smiles.
"I want you to cum," I say, starting to get a little frustrated by the fact that we haven't yet managed to break through that final barrier.
"It'll happen," he replies, slowly sliding his penis out and lying next to me on the bed. "I don't cum easily. I don't know why, it's just how my body works. But trust me, I'll cum later."
Smiling in an attempt to hide my disappointment, I look down at his hard cock and see that it's glistening with the wetness from my vagina. I reach down and run my fingers over the dome, pressing my thumb against the hole in the tip. Slowly, I wrap my fingers around his shaft and start to jerk him off. I've had three orgasms now, and it's definitely his turn.
"Elly -" he starts to say.
"Relax," I reply, pushing him onto his back as I continue to play with him. I squeeze his cock tight as I use my own juices to lubricate his girth, determined to get him to reach orgasm. Rob used to cum without much effort at all; in fact, it became kind of annoying how quickly he'd squirt out his load. Mark, on the other hand, seems to be going too far in the opposite direction. With everything we've done so far, it's almost unbelievable that he hasn't reached orgasm, and I can't help worrying that maybe I'm doing something wrong. He seems turned on, and he seems to be enjoying himself, but something's holding him back. It's as if that last little reserved part of his personality is refusing to let go, and he's refusing to show me the truth of his passion.
"There's no rush, Elly," he says after a moment.
"Isn't it good?" I ask, forcing a smile as I continue to jerk him off. Damn it, Rob was always happy enough with the stuff we did in bed, but I guess Rob and Mark have slightly different standards and thresholds.
"Of course it's good," he replies, "it's just that it takes time for me to build up to it."
"We've got time," I say, forcing a smile despite the fact that I'm feeling increasingly inadequate. "We've got all night." I move down the bed, figuring I can use my mouth a little. It's so frustrating to think of all the passion Mark must have built up in his body.
"There's something else we can do," he says. "Something that might achieve results a little more quickly."
"What's that?" I ask, smiling as I plant a gentle kiss on the smooth, bulbous tip of his cock.
"I told you that some of the stuff I like might be considered a little dark," he says. "It you want, I can show you."
I pause for a moment. I guess I knew this moment was coming, but I'm still a little nervous. I've always been a vanilla kind of person, and I've never lusted after any of the stranger things I've heard that some people like to do. Earlier this evening, when Mark talked about pushing boundaries, I was quick to say I'd be willing to try whatever he wanted, but now I'm starting to worry about what he might have in store.
"Sure," I say, realizing I have no option but to agree. If I hold back, or even if I seem reticent, he might decide to cancel the whole encounter. I'm not ready for this to end yet; I need to make him cum, and I'll do anything to make sure it happens. I can't sleep with this man and have so many great orgasms myself, while having him remain buttoned up and constrained.
"Okay," he replies with a smile, slipping his cock out of my hands as he gets off the bed and walks over to a cupboard on the other side of the room. I take a deep breath, staring at his back as he opens the cupboard door to reveal a series of drawers and hangers. "I'll start you off with something fairly tame," he continues, keeping his back to me as he goes through the contents of the cupboard. "I don't want to scare you off."
"You couldn't scare me off," I say, sitting up on the bed. In truth, though, my heart is in my mouth, and I'm terrified by what he might be about to show me. I guess there's a part of me that's happy with good old, boring, normal sex, where a man just gets on top of a woman and fucks her. For me, having the woman go on top would be pretty exciting and daring, but I guess there's a danger that Mark might find me boring. Just by biting his shoulder while we were making love, I've already gone beyond what I would consider to be my comfort zone, but I guess I can't admit any of this to Mark. I just have to smile and accept whatever he wants to do. After all, how extreme can it be?
"Okay," he says, taking something from the cupboard. "Don't worry, Elly. This isn't going to be quite how it seems
." He turns to face me, and I see to my utter shock that he's holding a small whip in his hand.
Jonathan Pope
1896
The King's Arms is as busy as ever, filled to bursting point with the type of people who don't like to be seen. Murderers, kidnappers, thieves and worse, they're all crammed into this filthy, stinking public house in a dark corner of London, and most of them are drunk as hell. Fights are common here, and it's a rare night that doesn't involve at least one patron being beaten to a bloody pulp and left to fight for his life in the alley that runs down the side of the building.
"Jonathan Pope," sneers a voice from behind the bar. Darius Wolff is the owner of the King's Arms, and in many ways he embodies the spirit of the place.
"Beer," I say, sliding some coins over to him.
"Been a while since we saw you in here," he slurs as he passes me a drink.
"I've been busy," I reply. Normally I'd be anxious to avoid engaging him in conversation, but tonight I need his help. "Anyone been in here?" I ask after taking a sip.
"Lots of people," he says with a smile.
"You know what I mean," I say. "Anyone with an unnatural interest in my affairs?"
He laughs. "Why would anyone give a shit about you, Pope? You're just a small-time thief."
I sigh, realizing that I'm in the clear, at least for now. If someone had been in to ask after me, I'm sure Wolff would have mentioned it by now. He might be a violent liar, but I feel I can trust Wolff with my life. We go back a long way, even if neither of us is keen to acknowledge our younger days.
