Sinister Scribblings - Volume 1

by Matt Hickman

  A baying of hounds echoed down the creek side. "He's over here, boys. Take him to his new home," the reverend called, then squatted down to whisper in Jeremiah's face. "There's just a few more souls that need tending before it's granted."

  Careful What You Wish For

  By

  Stuart Keane

  "One thousand pounds?"

  "Yes, that's what I said."

  "One thousand pounds. And I get three wishes?"

  "That's right, sugar."

  "Three? As in one, two, three?"

  "Yep, just like the genie in that Pocahontas movie."

  "You mean Aladdin?"

  "Do you want the wishes or not?"

  "Is there a catch?"

  "Just one. After your three wishes, I get to do one thing to you. Anything of my choice, and you can't object. Deal?"

  "Hold on a minute…how do I know if this is legit?"

  Using one hand, the stripper popped the front clasp on her bra and let it float to the ground. Her natural breasts, firm and smooth and bronze, unblemished by tan lines like the rest of her flawless, glitter-specked skin, stood proud. She jiggled them a little and flicked the nipples, placed a hand slowly into Gerald's lap and leaned in close, brushing his ear with her succulent lips. Her warm hands cupped him, making him groan.

  She smiled. "My name's Cyndi. You can do anything to me, anything you desire, and you can put it anywhere."

  Then, Cyndi was standing on her feet, inches away, beyond Gerald's grasp. The man was sweating, aching, gasping for breath. He'd been in the strip club for seven minutes before Cyndi had walked over.

  Seven. He'd not even ordered a drink yet.

  He was perched on the edge of a rickety bar stool, his mind filled with dubious belief, his trousers bulging with a rock hard erection. Quite where this black haired raven had emerged was beyond him. She appeared as if from nowhere, suddenly stood beside him, distracting him with her luscious strawberry scent. She'd waited for a moment before whispering the offer in his ear.

  The rest, as they say, was history.

  The barman leaned over. "Yes, sir?"

  Gerald looked around, perplexed, holding two fingers in the air. "Two double Buffalo Traces please, with a little ice. And a WKD for the lady, please."

  "We don’t do WKD, sir, this is an adult establishment."

  "Well, whatever the pretty lady is having." He pointed to Cyndi as she strode confidently across the bar, owning the gaze of every man in the establishment. Her shapely buttocks did most of the work; the walk was immensely captivating for the male audience. The barman nodded and smiled. "Ah, yes. Cyndi is quote fond of the white wine, sir."

  "Really? Fine, one of those then," Gerald uttered, peeling off two ten pound notes. He placed them on the wooden surface before him, which glimmered beneath the pink neon lights that decorated the bar. The barman turned and flipped a bottle of Buffalo Trace into the air, catching it with expertise and dropping two shots into a glass. He repeated the unnecessary act for the second, and then bent down to a mini-fridge for a bottle of wine.

  Why are you watching this guy make drinks? There's a half-naked woman over there.

  Gerald snapped his head sideways. For a second, he panicked; worried he'd lost Cyndi to a more-eager punter. He drew a sign of relief when he not only spotted her, but saw the stripper watching him mischievously. Her arousing gaze went straight through him and made him flinch.

  She's a hooker; she can pull that face on cue.

  To entice the men who want her, sometimes two.

  Stupid slut. What a fucking whore.

  Paid to fuck and fuck and fuck some more.

  Well, not for long, she'll remember the night with me.

  For tonight, she is mine, and my face will be the last she sees.

  Gerald smiled. Not bad. Maybe work on that last verse.

  "Your drinks, sir."

  He turned to the barman. The bitter but glorious essence of bourbon tickled his nostrils and he nodded. "There's twenty on the counter. Keep the change."

  "I'm sorry, sir, but the tab is twenty four pounds. And ten pence."

  Gerald's eyes widened. "Really?"

  The bar man sighed. "I don’t make the prices. I do, however, possess a baseball bat should that be a problem."

  Gerald shook his head. He scrambled a fiver from his trouser pocket, crumpled and slightly warm from his aroused nether regions, and dropped it on the bar. "Keep the change," he grunted, walking away, the three glasses positioned in a triangle between his shaking fingers.

  He walked over to Cyndi, who was waving to a bunch of young, inebriated men on a red leather sofa. They were hollering and laughing, spilling drinks and rolling over one another. One wore red lipstick and a pink wig, a groping hand positioned beneath his unbuttoned jeans. "How much to fuck me?"

  Cyndi chuckled. "You couldn’t pay me enough, darling."

  Gerald stepped up and handed Cyndi her glass of wine, ending the interest of the other men. They all stared at Gerald in awe and jealousy. Gerald nodded and followed the stripper through a doorway flanked with pink beads, which clacked as they rode their shoulders.

  "This way, young man."

  Gerald laughed nervously. "I'm not young."

  Cyndi turned and smiled, washing away his nerves instantly. "You could have fooled me."

  "Do you prefer them young?" Gerald cursed himself for asking, closing his eyes.

  Cyndi turned around and stepped into his comfort zone, brushing his lips with hers, the smell of strawberries made him giddy, the soft touch of her moist lips making him bulge once again. "I prefer older men. More experience, better conversation. Plus, they know how to fuck me."

  With that, she continued walking. Gerald felt his knees wobble.

  As Cyndi neared a booth lined with luxurious red and black curtains, one guarded by a muscular behemoth of a man with a bald, scarred head and a steroid rash on his neck, she drank her wine in one long gulp. She handed the empty glass to the bouncer and nodded. "You can leave us, Jorge."

  The man nodded and, casting a suspicious glance at Gerald, walked away, exiting the way they'd come in. Gerald heard the door close and lock behind them; the beads clacked and fell silent.

  They were alone.

  Cyndi gestured to Gerald. "In you go. Unless you want to lap dance me?"

  He composed himself and slowly ambled over to her, taking in the view. His nerves began to return, as they always did in the presence of a beautiful woman. His eyes scanned her toned stomach and curvaceous shoulders, her shapely thighs and wonderful hips, not to mention her sublime naked breasts with jutting nipples. As he neared Cyndi, his dubious belief returned.

  He looked back at the locked door once again. Does she know? Surely not? He cleared his throat. "One thousand pounds. Three wishes. And you get to do one thing of your choice after, correct?"

  Cyndi nodded. She slowly slid a hand into her blue panties and sighed, caressing her sex. Her lips parted, her tongue flicked out slowly, and a sigh escaped from deep in her throat. Gerald nearly buckled at the knees, his bulge becoming too much. He placed his drinks onto a bare wooden table beside him, the ice clinking on the glass.

  Cyndi stepped up to Gerald and gently placed a slippery finger into his mouth, caressing his chest with her other hand. The move was seductive, meticulously planned. Her smooth digit stroked his tongue, wiping her sweet taste onto it. Gerald moaned loudly; his tongue lapping, his eyes locked on Cyndi, who was staring at him. Her eyes were a stark emerald, alert and ablaze.

  Gerald reached out for Cyndi, aiming for her naked chest, but she backed off. "Uh, uh. In the booth." She stepped aside, holding the curtain open for him. Gerald sighed and smiled, collecting one of the drinks from the table. "Three wishes?"

  Cyndi nodded.

  "Deal." He stepped inside the booth.

  "Take a seat, doll," she uttered. Gerald nodded in amazement. It wasn't so much a booth as a small bedroom. The floor tiles clattered as he spun around, taking in the
surroundings. A red leather sofa curved across the wall, providing a three-sided seat, a U-shaped arrangement, probably to maximise potential revenue. He'd seen groups of men getting a lap dance before and wondered why they bothered.

  Tonight, though, it was all about him.

  It's my day.

  The whore will pay.

  Huge, glittering mirrors adorned the walls, which made Gerald a little uneasy. He turned his back slowly and parked his rump on the middle seat, facing the exit. He felt the comfortable leather wheeze beneath him. From this position, he could see the benefit of the mirrors as a near-naked Cyndi appeared in a variety of angles. From here, he could see her front and back and sides, his eyes steered to her pert buttocks. Once again, he throbbed.

  "How do you want to do this?" He asked.

  Cyndi raised an eyebrow, and then smiled. "Oh, you mean payment?

  Gerald nodded.

  "Let's see how it goes…I find money and business usually ruins the…flow of things, if you catch my drift. It can wait." Cyndi began to twirl on the spot, pushing her butt out, crossing her arms in the air above her head. Her eyes never left Gerald and she smiled.

  Fuck me; she looks amazing.

  What rhymes with amazing…fuck it.

  Gerald leaned in close, his mouth beginning to open in awe. He marveled at the sight on display – Cyndi's bronze, curved hips, her shapely buttocks, separated only by a thin line of blue fabric that left nothing to the imagination. Her thighs were wonderful, her perfectly smooth back and shoulders made Gerald purr inside. As she turned facing front, on the full turn, he saw her firm breasts once again, the indentation below her neck where the collarbones met, the sheen of glitter that illuminated her skin, the thin triangle of blue thong hiding the very intimate parts he so craved. He noticed the fabric was damp; a trickle had rolled down her thigh.

  She really wants me. I can’t wait.

  Little does she know she's the perfect bait.

  "What are your wishes…?" She stared at him, awaiting an answer.

  Gerald nodded, realising she was prompting him for a name. "My name?" He uttered.

  "Yes. If I'm going to fuck you, and trust me, I am going to fuck you, I want to know what I'm screaming when I climax. It's good manners."

  Gerald laughed. "True. My name is Peter."

  Cyndi frowned. "Peter…you don’t seem like a Peter. I imagined a different name for you."

  "Well, I can’t change my name, can I? It's what I was born with."

  "No…I suppose not," Cyndi said, chuckling. "Okay, Peter, what's your first wish?" Cyndi leaned back on the doorframe, her legs wide. Her chest expanded with shallow breaths, bobbing her breasts, much to Gerald's enjoyment. "Remember, you only have three." She held up three fingers, and hovered them above her crotch.

  Gerald slapped his hands together, rubbed them and prepared.

  This is it, the moment you've been waiting for.

  The first wish, then you have two more.

  Get her uncomfortable, make her life hell.

  Make her weak before you call the final bell.

  "I want you to bend over and spank yourself," Gerald said, his eyes blazing with power. "Hard. I want you to flinch and moan. I want it to hurt."

  Cyndi stood up. Her eyes narrowed, watching her customer. "Is that all?"

  "My wishes, my choices."

  She hesitated for a moment, and then smiled. "Foreplay…unusual for a guy. You are full of surprises…Peter. So be it."

  Cyndi turned around slowly, and thrust her butt backwards, inches from Gerald's face. She lifted her right leg onto the side seat and spread her legs wide, pushing the buttocks outwards. The blue material slipped a little, exposing her shaven lips. Gerald noticed.

  Cyndi smiled. "See something you like?"

  Gerald nodded. "Uh huh." He moved forward, hands out.

  "No, sit back. Don’t you dare! You get the wishes in order, no backsies. You chose this, so it happens. Take your time. Just think how good it will be when you finally get your tongue on…this." Cyndi slid two fingers over her exposed cleft, moaned, and then lifted her hand up, slapping her right buttock with vehemence. The noise reverberated around the booth, the whack of palm on flesh sounding loud and harsh. The buttock bounced, the flesh wobbling under the impact. Cyndi groaned a little. "Like that?"

  Gerald nodded, not paying attention. His hormone-fuelled eyes were firmly on Cyndi's behind. She repeated the action, and this time a red welt appeared, blemishing her skin. She did it again, and let out a grunt. And again. And again. She looked at her customer, her teeth gritted. "This what you had in mind."

  "Harder," Gerald spat.

  Cyndi paused, flexed her fingers, and spanked again. This time, she shuddered involuntarily; her entire body moved forward a fraction. She felt her insides tense and coil, her buttocks seize as a flash of unexpected pain jolted through her body, almost sending her off balance. Her right cheek was sore and throbbing. Stealing a glance into one of the mirrors, she could see several red palm prints on the bronze flesh. The skin was starting to blister.

  "Harder. C'mon girl, put your back into it."

  Cyndi tensed, breathed in slowly and smacked herself again.

  "Again."

  She followed her command, the breath hissing through her teeth.

  "Again."

  The fury was beginning to build inside her. She smacked the sore flesh, which now felt numb through the increasing pain. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she turned away, hiding her discomfort.

  "Again."

  Cyndi smacked once more, and this time, she howled loudly. She felt the skin crack; the slight shift of something giving way shook her very being. Pain erupted through her stomach, tingled along her legs, wobbling her at the knees. A warm sensation – slightly camouflaged by the numbing agony – trickled down her butt, between her legs, and she realised she was bleeding. A few drops spattered on the inside of her foot.

  "Fantastic," Gerald uttered. His hand was slipping beneath his jeans, caressing his erection. Cyndi placed her right foot down gently, wiped her tears away quickly and turned around, a fake smile on her face. She tried to ignore the sting of the flames scorching her ruptured backside.

  "Did I say you were finished?" Gerald spat, drool seeping from his shining lips. He downed his bourbon in one gulp and wiped his lips with his forearm, his eyes filling with rage.

  "I…I…" Cyndi began to turn again, her equilibrium shot from the bloodshed.

  "Only joking. That was amazing. If I had been wanking then…my, I would be spent."

  Cyndi grinned and turned back to him. She unconsciously crossed her arms across her chest, covering her breasts. "One down, two to go. I…if I'd known you liked it rough, I would have offered you a different package."

  "I don’t like it rough, it’s the blood that turns me on," Gerald said. A second later, he cursed himself inwardly. You stupid fuck.

  Cyndi cocked her head. "What?"

  Gerald laughed, backtracking a little. "I like a bit of…bloodletting. You know, nails scratching the back, drawing blood. I ain't no vampire; don’t get me wrong, but the sound a woman makes when her skin splits…there's nothing like it."

  Good recovery there. And for once, you ain't lying.

  You certainly like the sound a woman makes when she's dying.

  Cyndi shook her head, trying to compose herself. "So, how did I sound?"

  "Magnificent."

  Cyndi nodded. "Give me a second, I need to clean up." She pointed to the blood oozing down her thigh. It had turned the inside of her leg a bright crimson.

  "No."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Sorry?"

  "No. I want you bleeding. Ignore it."

  "I could get infected…you could be infected, no offence, and I won't bleed over a client, no matter how much you want it. My business strictly prohibits it."

  "Tough."

  "I could lose my job."

  Gerald stood up. "That's not my problem. You can blame a long line
of whores and hookers who ruined it for the rest of you. How hard is it to monitor whom you fuck and suck? How hard is it to provide a condom? Now, sit."

  Cyndi shivered, but she lowered her slick butt to the chair. Her left arm remained across her chest as she touched the gash on her butt with her right hand. She hoped it was just a flesh wound.

  Gerald smiled. "Good girl."

  Cyndi shook her head. "This is very unorthodox, Peter."

  "I don't like to be boring. Originality is the spice of life."

  Cyndi said nothing.

  "Besides, you have my word, I'm clean."

  Oh, you little liar! But that's our little secret.

  After all, we don't want to fill her with regret.

  "Ugh, maybe work on that," Gerald said to himself.

  "Work on what?"

  Gerald's eyes widened and he stared at Cyndi. "Nothing. Just thinking aloud. Something I forgot to do this morning, I just remembered."

  "You normally remember chores when you have a beautiful naked woman at your mercy?"

  "What can I say, I'm a kook. And who said it was a chore?"

  "Force of habit. First word that came to mind." She breathed in deeply. "You have two more wishes."

  Gerald smiled. "So I do."

  Two more wishes, oh the possibilities.

  Mind you, don't take too many liberties.

  Bring her back onside; give her a gesture of good will.

  After that, the third wish is the perfect chance to go for the kill.

  Cyndi shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, wincing as she did so. She could hear blood pattering onto the floor, could feel it splashing her foot as gravity and natural blood flow worked against her. The wet seat beneath her rump was warming fast, becoming slippery. She watched Peter curiously; saw the cogs whirring behind his eyes. She waited patiently.

  "Okay. I decided, because it's unfair otherwise, to let you clean up. That's my second wish."

  Cyndi stared at her customer. "You're joking?"

  "No. I understand where you're coming from; it’s not your fault the generations of whores before you were a bunch of skanky hose beasts. Besides, I have something exquisite planned for wish number three…and I want you in the best shape possible. And please, accept my apologies for the bloodshed; my debauchery knows no limits sometimes."