by Amy Cross
"Fuck," I gasp, laying flat on my back and starting to tilt my hips a little as he licks harder and faster around my clitoris. To stop myself from squirming too much, I reach out with both hands and grab hold of the bed-sheets, as if to anchor myself in place. I can't help but let out more gasps and moans, and eventually I start to arch my back as I grip the bed-sheets harder and harder. It feels as if the pleasure is building against a wall, and any moment that wall is going to break and the pleasure will flood through my body. I take a deep breath and hold it for a moment, squeezing my eyes tight shut. Mark is really going harder and faster now, and I keep my breath held for as long as possible, my whole body tense and trembling as I feel the orgasm getting ready to explode at any moment. Normally, I'd be embarrassed to make any kind of noise, but right now I can't help letting out a brief grunt. Still holding my breath, I try to control the heavy trembling sensation running through my heavily-tensed body until finally I realize it's about to happen.
Gasping for breath and letting out a loud moan, I finally cum. The pleasure, which has been building and building in my crotch, finally bursts free and floods through the rest of my body. I arch my back, thrusting my breasts into the air as I grasp the bed-sheets and emit a brief scream, and I feel the tip of Mark's tongue gently flick the very head of my clitoris. The pleasure throbs through my body in a series of powerful waves before eventually starting to subside, and after a while I find myself starting to become less tense. Still breathless, I let go of the bed-sheets and reach down, placing my hands on the top of Mark's head. His tongue is still caressing the area around my clitoris, and it still feels amazingly good, and there are echoes of the pleasure still swimming through my body. Feeling utterly calm and fulfilled, I stare up at the ceiling for a moment before I feel Mark's face move away from my crotch. I take a deep breath and look down just in time to see him wipe my wetness from his lips. He moves up my body and stares into my eyes for a moment before leaning closer and kissing me passionately. I reach down and run a finger between my legs, realizing that I'm wetter than I've ever been in my life. My heart is racing as I place my hands around his hard cock and start to jerk him off.
"Your turn," I whisper, smiling as I break from the kiss.
"I don't want to cum yet," he replies.
I grin. "You don't have a choice".
He kisses the side of my neck. "I should have told you sooner," he says, "but I actually find it quite hard to cum. Don't worry, it'll happen, but it takes a while. I prefer not to rush it". He kisses my neck again. "It's not a bad thing. It's good. It means things can last longer". He places a hand on my right breast and gently cups me for a moment, before rubbing his thumb against my tingling nipple.
"Are you sure?" I ask, trying to hide my disappointment.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he says with a smile, leaning closer and kissing me again. As his tongue slips into my mouth, I run my hands over his rock-solid chest, feeling the contours of his muscles as I gently move my fingers down to his waist. As we continue to kiss, I feel him move his hips a little closer to me, and finally the tip of his penis brushes against my leg. I want him inside me right now, but I know I have to wait. It's clear that Mark likes to take things slowly rather than rushing, and that's fine by me. We have the whole night ahead of us, and although I was fairly confident that Mark would be good in bed, I'm starting to think that I could be in for the most amazing experience of my life. Even though I only just came a few minutes ago, I'm already starting to get horny again. Still kissing, we writhe on the bed-sheets, running our hands over one another's skin as I slowly get into position to wrap my legs around his hips and pull him tight against my body.
Two
1896
The fool.
The goddam fool.
Standing in the shadows of the park, I watch as Inspector Matthews loiters outside the Castleton Hotel. I always knew he was a hotheaded son of a bitch, but I never thought he'd be this stupid. How can he possibly think that it's a good idea to come here? I warned him to sit tight, stay calm and wait for me to contact him. I guess he thinks he's waited long enough; after all, it's been more than a year since he last heard from me, but I tried to explain to him that it would take quite some time for me to get the information I need. I hoped that maybe he'd have a little damn patience and do what I asked him to do, and to his credit he was pretty good for a while; but he's obviously cracked now, and here he is, conducting his own little surveillance program of the Castleton. God knows what he expects to achieve, but the most likely outcome is rather simple: he'll end up dead.
I can't warn him. The only thing keeping him alive right now is the fact that they don't know the identity of his confidant. If they saw him with me, they'd immediately know what's been going on, and they'd kill us both. No, we have to stay separate until we're ready to make our attack. Or that was the plan, at least. Matthews is threatening to ruin everything. Still, I always knew this was a possibility, so I prepared a back-up plan, one that doesn't involve his help at all. At this rate, that back-up plan is going to have to be pressed into service pretty damn soon. I really thought Matthews would refrain from doing anything too dumb for a while.
After a moment, I spot a familiar figure emerging from the hotel. Vincent D'Oyly, aka Mr. Blue, steps onto the pavement and pauses for a moment to light a cigarette. The man is a vile, snakelike individual who slithers through high society, hiding his venom as he seeks out young ladies around whom he can slowly wrap his slippery body. You can tell with one glance that the man is up to no good, but he has two things that make him irresistible to the opposite sex: wealth and power. Men like him are the epitome of everything that's wrong with this world. The natural order should see men like D'Oyly struck down pretty fast by the stronger specimens; instead, he uses the trappings of his privilege to shield himself. The human species is doing itself no favors by prolonging a social structure that allows men like D'Oyly to not only survive but actually thrive. I watch as he climbs into a waiting carriage, which then carries him away from the hotel.
Seconds later, Inspector Matthews emerges from his hiding place and walks quickly toward the hotel's entrance. Sighing, I realize that he's even more stupid than I'd imagined: he actually believes he can sneak inside and go up to the penthouse. God knows what he expects to find up there, but apparently he's determined to poke his nose around. There's a part of me that wants to run across the road, grab his collar and drag him away, but I know that would be too dangerous. There are eyes and ears all around us in the dark, and I have no doubt that Mr. Blue and his associates would be very quick to learn of our association. No, my only choice is to watch as Inspector Matthews disappears into the hotel, pig-headedly barreling toward some kind of blunder that's likely to cost him his life. I wait a couple of minutes and then, sure enough, I spot D'Oyly's carriage returning to the scene. He climbs down, waves the carriage away, and is then approached by another man, who I recognize immediately: Harrison Blake, the well-known politician and lesser-known serial killer, also known as Mr. White. By day, he's a campaigner for social justice and labor rights, but by night it seems he's a part of this cruel game.
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, and meanwhile the likes of Mr. Blue and Mr. White would be able to continue on their murderous way. 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 quite able 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 fairly 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 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 whether 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. They're clearly accomplished killers who've got a system that works; so many girls have died at their hands, but to my knowledge not one body has ever been found. Of course, I cannot simply go to the police with my findings, since I would be laughed out of the station while simultaneously attracting the unwanted attention of the very people I'm trying to stop. Instead, I must move cautiously. 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'm so lost in thought, I almost forget to perform my usual sweep when I get close to my home. Stopping at the end of the street, I pause to glance in all directions. I have collected rather a lot of enemies over the years, and I always take the precaution of ensuring that none of them are to be found nearby. Just as I'm about to proceed to my front door, I spot a figure lurking in the shadows, and I realize that he's watching my home, waiting for my arrival. I inch forward, and finally I see to my horror that the man is none other than Harrison Blake himself. It's quite clear that Blake and D'Oyly are aware of my link to Matthews, which means that I'm next on their list. How they discovered this link, I'm not sure, but I suppose it's possible that they were able to get the information from Matthews himself before he died. Turning and hurrying away, I realize I cannot possibly return to my home now. The hunt is on, and I am being sought by some of London's fiercest predators. As I disappear into the shadows of the London night, I know that they will eventually catch up to me. I need to come up with a new plan, and I need to put it into action fast.
I need to find John the Pig.
Three
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 slides his cock further inside. He leans down and kisses me delicately on the lips, and I feel him slip 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, muscly 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, though I feel like this might as well be my first time. When I fucked Rob, it was quick and very animal-like; he merely shoved his cock 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?"
"I wasn't even going to both with that question," I reply. "But are you experienced?"
"Yes," he says after a brief pause. "I am. Does it matter?"
"No," I say. "I just want to fuck you".
He shifts his position a little, before slowly sliding his cock 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; this 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 feeling, but it's much more sensitive than anything I ever had with Rob, especially when he slips his cock 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's starting slowly and therefore there's time to feel these different things.
I take a deep breath and run my hands down Mark's back, eventually feeling his rock-hard ass. I place my hands on his buttocks, feeling the firm movement as he continues to slide in and out of me. I give him a little squeeze, determined to enjoy the moment as he starts making love to me a little faster. It's almost as if I can feel him growing and getting harder with each thrust, and the rhythm of his breathing has definitely changed: he seems more focused now, and his body is tensing. When I was giving him a blow-job earlier, it felt like he wasn't enjoying it as much as I'd hoped, but now I'm certain he's
feeling the same kind of pleasure that I'm feeling. As I arch my back a little, his chest starts brushing my nipples and I feel my chest tighten in anticipation of the coiled passion that I feel is going to be unleashed at any moment. Mark is getting faster and faster, and all I want is to feel his passion unleashed; Mark has always seemed a little reserved, as if he's holding something back, and I want to break through that barrier and feel something real.
"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 won't".
Although it feels somehow wrong, I bite a little harder and then, after a moment, harder still. He starts thrusting even harder, 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 cock 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 with increasing power.
