Immortal Memories

by Hibbard, Michael

  In the weeks that followed that first encounter, I made my preparations. I deliberately did not contact her for three days, allowing her to replay the experience in her mind, awakening flustered in the middle of the night in the throes of an unexpectedly erotic dream as I whispered in her mind, reassuring her. But, these sorts of preparations were not to be taken lightly. A thrall, like a pet, was an enormous amount of work. She would never make another decision for herself again, and would exist unobtrusively in my life, a slave to my sin-filled soul.

  Very few people were allowed to enter my home, and only with explicit purpose. The rest of the world could not fathom the Beast. We would survive through my will and one survives by being calculated and not by being impetuous. Foolishness, though quaint in certain circumstances, is a sure path to extinction. Only the cautious survive. Though my little pet was foolish, I would save her from the rest of the world, where beasts more deceitful than mine would certainly devour her. I am the keeper of the beast, though all men harbor a beast in the depths of their heart, callous, calamitous creatures, driven by deviant demands and derisive diligence.

  It was a cold evening when she arrived near midnight, the moon hung lazily over the city, illuminating the glaze of ice, which blanketed the streets and sidewalks. She was dressed in a black dress, falling torridly just above the knee, swaying against her thighs as she entered the parlor.

  We sat opposite one another, her in the leather, wing back chair, and I on the settee. I offered her a cognac to dispel the chill, but more importantly, to sedate her inhibitions. Fear was ever present and always threatening to interrupt the best laid plans. She gazed downward into the amber liquid, while we spoke of casual, innocuous things. The night ticked away on the grandfather clock, drowned out by the constant complaints of my shadow. The beast was always impatient, which is why it needed me, for it would devour the world and leave nothing in its wake. I provided temperance where there was a void, and though it believed it was in control, it was not.

  She regaled me with tales of the past few weeks, careful not to speak of our previous encounter, but I knew it hung just behind her pretty, red lips, which glistened with the liquid courage I had given her. I caught her looking at me once, while I checked the pocket watch in my vest, but she quickly averted her gaze with a feigned, feeble cough. It was time.

  “Upstairs,” I said in a casual manner. “There is a room immediately to the right as you approach the top.”

  “Yes, Sir?” anxiously she inquired, sitting forward in her chair and setting the empty glass aside.

  “There is a thin white gown laid out for you,” I continued after emptying my own glass. “I will be along directly.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she responded again and without another word she vanished from the parlor, the sound of her heels staccato on the hardwood floor as she ascended the stairs.

  “That was too easy,” he said from across the room, leaned back with his feet on the ottoman. “Are you sure she’ll be worth all this ‘planning’?”

  I dismissed him, as I often do. I had to keep my mind focused on the task at hand. The transition would be difficult for her. I did not want to risk her fleeing -- that would have been disastrous. The night would decide whether she would remain or be discarded. I, despite my own concerns, was hopeful that she would submit, willingly and fully, but I was careful not to allow that to cloud my judgment.

  After giving her ample amount of time to prepare and reflect, I mounted the stairs, walking in time with her beating heart, which resounded in my ears deafeningly. She was terrified and enflamed with desire simultaneously. This pleased me, pleased him.

  As I opened the door, she stretched languorously on the bed, her arms over her head, with her wrist in one hand as if hanging from a rope. She was naked underneath the nearly transparent gown of sheer, white fabric, her body responding to the chill in the air from the window I had left open. The heavy fabric of the drapes muffled the din of the city, and her trembling breaths and thumping heart further diminished it.

  “Good girl,” I said as I inspected her. She was more beautiful than I had imagined from our previous encounter. This was the first time I was able to see the entirety of her body.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she said in the same trembling voice as before. Fear was hanging over her oppressively, but she kept it at arm’s length by the desire, which emanated from every aspect of her being.

  “Mmm,” he purred behind me. “I may have been wrong about you. She looks good enough to eat.” I ignored him again as I approached her.

  Her body was tremulous with the cold and her longing. He could smell the subtle hint of her need, causing him to growl impatiently as I considered her form.

  “I want you to keep your eyes closed until I am finished.” I said, taking one of her wrists and binding it with the shackles affixed to the post of the large bed. “You must trust me. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she responded in a small, girlish voice.

  I could hardly contain myself -- contain him -- as I bound her to the bed. I left enough slack in the chains to allow movement, but there was no escaping. She was completely under my control.

  “No more speaking, now,” I whispered against her ear, taking in a deep breath of her aroma as she nodded feebly. I could see the veins in her face and neck throbbing, her body responding to the situation in obvious ways – she was ready. I kissed her neck lightly, watching her body react as she tried to suppress whimpers of pleasure. My hand moved over the fabric of her gown and down between her legs, fingers dipped in her wanton moisture. As I caressed her treasure torturously, she lifted her hips into my grasp. I then bit her neck, lightly at first, to gauge her reaction, then harder. She gasped both in pain and ecstasy as I did, urging me to continue, unknowing what was to come next.

  I lifted my hand to her throat, my grasp firm as I thrust her head to the side and bit down hard on the skin, piercing it and allowing a small amount of blood to flow, careful not to damage any of her arteries. Unlike the clumsy portrayals of blood-drinking cliché specters of classic and modern horror, the blood for us is merely a part of the ritual, and not a source of sustenance. The hunger I seek to sate is inexplicable, and terrible, yet safely imprisoned within. We are not ‘undead’ -- one is either alive or not. We are alive and she is alive, and her life trickled sweetly into my waiting mouth. We suckled it hungrily, knowing her, feeling her, filling myself with each drop, as if an infant from its mother.

  “That is rather tasty,” he murmured as he was filled too. “Something very familiar.” I sensed the familiarity too, like the memory of candy apples at a fall festival.

  She moaned as she exploded with release from this simple, yet poignant action. I had violated her in a way she had never been known before, and would never be again. When the throes of her orgasm subsided, I released my grip and stood to undress. My intrusion into her soul had only just begun. When the night was complete, she would be unable to remove us from her mind.

  I watched her as I disrobed, it was clear she had never experienced such a release before. She was drunk with rapture, her eyes fluttering beneath her eyelids as if lost in a pleasant dream. I could tell she wanted to open her eyes, but she did not. Before her pleasure had subsided, I reached down and quickly tore the thin fabric from her body, leaving red fabric burns on her hips and shoulders. Again, she shuddered, whimpering with pleasure, her naked body pimpled with fine hair standing on end. I shredded the gown and tied a piece over her eyes as a blind fold and kept another piece on the bedside table in case a gag was in order.

  She spread her legs without hesitation as my hand rested lightly on her thigh.

  “No,” I whispered. “Roll on your stomach.”

  She nodded dutifully, rolling over, the chains crisscrossing, yet slack enough for her to do so. Her bare, white bottom was slightly lifted with that same desire she exhibited in the abandoned building, and I slapped it with such force it echoed through the room, followed by a moan, not a
scream. My hand left a blood red print on her alabaster skin, raised and vicious, but she did not lower her hips.

  I hit her again in the same spot, with more force. She yelped into the pillow, and defiantly raised her hips more.

  Twice more on a different spot, and still she raised her hips. She was learning very quickly, much more quickly than the others before her. One final time I hit her, and she had raised herself fully on her knees, swaying her hips back and forth hypnotically, beckoning me.

  “Oh come on,” he barked from the chair across the room, impatient. “Let’s get started already.”

  I ignored his urging, I was in charge and he was not. I mounted her from behind, like an animal, grabbing a full hand of hair and jerked her head up, forcing her to get up on her hands and knees. She panted like a dog as I drove myself deep within, over and over, straining against my grasp as I pulled her hair tighter. She moved in time with me, thrusting her own hips back, which I greeted with another resounding slap, harder than the previous ones. Her bottom was completely red and beginning to bruise, yet still she persisted. I was misled by her naiveté; something had been asleep within her, something I awoke. She would be much more difficult to break, like a wild horse, completely unlike the others who had willing submitted to my will with little resistance question.

  I tightened my grip in her hair and lifted her upright, and pinched and pulled at her nipple mercilessly and she responded with a renewed sense of urgency, grinding into each and every thrust. And, just as I thrust her face into the pillow to suffocate her, she climaxed once more and growled like an animal.

  Frustrated, I flipped her over roughly onto her back and covered her with my seed, the droplets glistening on her heaving chest. I wiped my hands in her hair and climbed off the bed. She lolled her head back and forth drunkenly and I took the swath of fabric from the bedside table and tied it tightly around her mouth.

  He chuckled from the chair, “That was an impressive display.” I glanced over at him scornfully, careful not to say anything aloud. “I think you may have met your match,” he chided.

  I gathered my discarded garments, tossed them into the hallway before turning back to her, and slapped her once across the face. “You will learn,” I said succinctly. “It doesn’t matter what you want or if you enjoy it. My will is all that matters.” With that, I strode from the room, slamming the door, leaving her to her thoughts and pain.

  “What are you going to do now?” he asked as I walked down the stairs to the study, taking a seat before the fireplace.

  “She’ll submit,” I said unaffected, the rage in my chest quickly subsiding. “They always do.”

  “Not always,” he said reminding me. “Surely you remember Charlotte?”

  Charlotte was my one failure, but she was an extreme case. This one would not be as much of a problem as she had been.

  “Charlotte was beyond my help,” I responded emotionlessly. “This one is merely inexperienced. An untrained pet. However, I knew that when I approached her. But she is willing, and that is all that matters.”

  “Oh,” he laughed. “She’s willing alright.”

  I ignored him once more and poured myself a cognac and before ringing a small bell next to my chair. Within a few moments, my four other pets came up from the basement and knelt dutifully in front of me, eyes down cast. They each were naked, except for their collar around their neck, with a silver ID tag dangling from the clasp, each numbered one through four. Soon I would have five, if all went well.

  “One,” I barked at the blonde haired pet to my left. She dutifully perked up to let me know she heard me. “Go and lie outside the door at the top of the stairs and alert me if there is any issue.”

  She nodded and stood, “Yes, Sir,” and quickly vanished from the room. Number One had been with me the longest, but she was too eager to please me. There was very little resistance in her at the beginning, and all of that was completely gone now. She was in charge of keeping the others busy when I was not around, and she excelled at that. I had owned her so long I had forgotten her real name, but that did not matter anymore.

  “When are we going out?” He asked impatiently from his usual seat, watching the others and me.

  “Soon,” I said. “Now, Two and Four, go and fetch me a suit and new under garments.” Two was a redhead and Four had raven-black hair. They both nodded and said, “Yes, Sir” in perfect unison before leaving the room.

  I finished my cognac and stood. Three was albino, and a truly extraordinary find. “Three, I require cleaning.” While I stood naked in the middle of the study, Three began to use her tongue to clean the remains of the encounter from my body, a skill that required an enormous amount of training. Three was exceedingly well versed in using her tongue.

  “What are we after tonight?” He asked anxiously. “Murderer? Thief?”

  I shook my head, looking over at him, my arms over my head to allow Three unhindered access to my body. “No,” I responded. “Tonight, I am interested in visiting the politician.” My pets had become accustomed to my beast and our seemingly one-sided conversations; it was a factor of the conditioning. While to a normal person it might appear quite insane, they recognized that I was very different from any lesser men they may have encountered in the pathetic former existences.

  “Ohhhh!” He responded in a giddy manner. “I love politicians. They taste like pork!”

  I nodded, “I thought you would approve. And tonight is the most opportune night for a visit.”

  I saw him roll his eyes, “You and your damn planning! We don’t need to be so careful; it’s not as if we will get caught.”

  “I am not concerned with being caught,” I responded patiently. “One should realize that the low hanging fruit may not be as delicious as those high in the tree. And, we do not need a panic to erupt, it would hinder our work.”

  It was his turn to indulge, as was the arrangement, however, I always chose whom we would visit. I spent the majority of my waking days seeking the vilest of sinners. The viler they were, the more sated he would be and leave me to my pets.

  That night, I had decided that a certain congressman was our target, one Richard Stern. One rule I have always lived by is that there is no room in society for a rabid dog and Mr. Stern was exactly that. It is different to take advantage of those who want to be taken advantage of. My pets are willing, tired of living unfulfilled existences, looking for direction, care and some semblance of compassion. Mr. Stern had taken advantage of many, and though he had been implicated in several instances of impropriety with a minor, his position and influence in the government had left him unscathed. But, we both knew he was guilty. Guilt is like gum on the bottom of your shoe, anyone paying attention can see the thin, sticky strands as the foot pulls away from the pavement. In Mr. Stern’s case, his whole foot was covered and while sating the beast’s hunger, we would visit expiation on him.

  After I had been cleaned and dressed, we left to complete our work for the evening. We slipped through the night, unnoticed as always, to his home in the West End of the city, to an affluent, gated community reserved for those who steeped themselves in opulence. It sickened me that someone of his stature could be capable of such horrible acts and living a lavish life in a million dollar mansion. Nevertheless, his sin exceeded the normal boundaries of greed. All the money in the world, all the things he had, and yet he could not stop abusing those less fortunate. He robbed countless victims of their safety, self-esteem and sanity. We would punish him and force him to make attrition for his deviant behavior.

  We arrived at the Stern residence at 3:00 a.m., and after only a few moments, we picked the lock, deactivated his alarm and entered his house. He was divorced, which made things easy, almost too easy.

  We entered his enormous master bedroom, where the full moon shined through the window, casting an eerie glow on his pallid skin, making him almost appear like a corpse. He was in his late 50s, and decidedly overweight, and certainly no match for us. We watched him slee
p for a few minutes; a sinister smile curled his cracked, bloated lips. Before he could awaken and come to his senses, we handcuffed him to his bed. His eyes shot open and he began to yell, but we quickly shoved a rag in his mouth, silencing him as he gagged on the filthy cloth we had prepared for such an occasion.

  “Shhh,” I began calmly, looking down on him with my beast’s eyes and face. “You have been a very bad boy, Mr. Stern.” His eyes widened as he gazed deeply into the beasts eyes, lost in the void, his sins reflected back at him. He knew and the fear began to flow from his pores mixed with his sweat.

  “We know what you did,” My shadow continued unhindered, pulling a riding crop from the folds of my jacket. “And, we feel punishment is in order.”

  He growled through the nasty, filthy stained cloth indignantly, which we rewarded with a slap to the face with a gloved hand. We had done this countless times before and it always felt good for us both. There is never a lack of sin in the world, and we drank it like fine wine.

  His eyes widened even further as I pulled a knife from my jacket and cut the pajamas from his bloated form, leaving him exposed and naked in the moonlight.

  “Do you atone for your sins?” My shadow asked through my mouth. “Say no, say no, say no.” He whispered under our breath with giddiness.

  Stern growled once more, with what sounded like outrage. The riding crop came down hard against his blubbery flesh with a crack, causing a muffled yelp.

  “Wrong,” we said hitting him again three more times across the chest, stomach and finally, squarely in the genitals.

  Stern howled against the rag, finally able to get the rag from his mouth. He screamed at us, “Stop! I’ll give you anything you want! I have money! I won’t say a word.”