The Gathering Storm

by Amileigh D'Lecoire

  They laid like that for a time, tangled within one another and listening to the rain outside. When she finally spoke at last he felt another piece of his heart begin to ache.

  “So are you,” she whispered as she placed a soft kiss against his chest. “So are you.”

  ~11~

  Hippolyte stormed into his chambers, scowling and cursing. The young priest who had been cleaning the remains of Hippolyte’s most recent feeding jumped up with a muffled squeal and quickly scurried past, relieved that he had not received a solid kick on his way out the door, or worse – been hurled out the open window to fall broken upon the lava crags several feet below and left to the mercy of the Morg.

  With a snarl Hippolyte snapped his fingers and then grasped the glass of ambrosia that had appeared to drink deep. He was blinded by anger, having caught Melisande once again as she had sat, straddling her latest toy, grinding wantonly against yet another wretched mortal until he was forced once again to intervene. He’d beaten her severely and banished her to her room, then made a meal out of the unimpressive lover of hers who thought to actually protest. Had he kept his mouth shut Hippolyte might have at least granted him an eternity of life as a Satyr. But no, the cheeky bastard dared to insult Hippolyte and so he was left with no choice but to bleed the bastard dry.

  It was just as well - he hadn’t had a true meal in weeks.

  Gods, how he hated and craved the taste of that bitch, to the point that she drove him to madness!

  Hippolyte stroked the silky short hairs of his beard with long, tapered fingers, pondering the countless men he’d caught pounding away at his wife’s deliciously tight sheathe over the past centuries. How many were there in his hold now, he wondered for a moment? He had lost count, impervious to the horror and pain that the restless souls were subjected to. They were little more than a food source as far as he was concerned, and their pleas for mercy he likened to that of the confused calls of their cattle led to slaughter. There were a few whose character he’d admired just enough to send them away to live out eternity as Satyr beasts, but most simply annoyed or disgusted him and wound up being held deep within the bowels of his castle until he grew hungry and in need of their bodies, their blood and their souls.

  Agitated and in need of distraction, he turned and crossed over to the far side of his chambers where a young girl stood pressed against the cold stone wall, naked and shivering in spite of the fire which roared in the fireplace across the room. She was barely a woman, having only recently come of age by her people’s standards, with smooth dark hair and unblemished skin, her slight form healthy and glowing. Her head sagged and lulled, her chin resting on her chest, and Hippolyte did not waste time or make pretense. Walking up to the girl, he grabbed her chin and forced her head up, capturing the softness of her full lower lip between his teeth and biting down on the tender flesh until she cried out in pain.

  Hippolyte closed his eyes and tilted his head back, inhaling deeply, aroused by the scent of her fear. It filled his lungs and fed his lust, causing him to grow instantly hard with need. He pressed his swollen shaft against her soft stomach and her struggles renewed, her movements more animated this time as she began to emerge from her drug-induced fog.

  Hippolyte smiled when her eyes met his and she began to whimper and squirm.

  “Do not struggle so, foolish girl. It is a great honor to have been chosen; a sacrifice for which your people will be greatly rewarded when I leave their village standing.” Hippolyte’s voice was hypnotic and low, but his words only frightened her more.

  “Please,” she croaked, pleading as best she could. Her lips felt thick and her tongue swollen from the effects of the narcotic she’d be given prior to the ceremony of her people, making it difficult for her to speak. He ignored her request, his eyes travelling over her face in a hungry caress.

  “Relax, my pet. Perhaps you will be lucky, and we shall find that you are made for my special attentions,” he whispered, leaning closer to press his lips against her ear. With a rush of moist breath that made her shiver in anticipation, he captured her lobe between his teeth and pierced the tiny pearl of skin with the sharpened tip of one lengthened incisor. Ignoring her cry of pain, he flicked his tongue along the curved edge of her ear and then moved lower to lap at the tiny droplets of blood that welled up, smiling to hear her moan in shocked pleasure. Closing his eyes, he allowed the taste of her to mingle with his senses and trembled at the pleasure this gave him. He moved one hand slowly down over the smooth column of her neck and squeezed tight in a demonstration of his power over her. She whimpered then and cried with renewed hysteria as her airway was constricted, and he encouraged her fear, for he enjoyed the rush of power than came from holding her life within his hands.

  “Please, God – nooo,” she pleaded again

  “Your God has no power here,” his hissed. “I shall use you and I shall feed from you as I see fit, and if you please me then perhaps I will kill you swiftly.”

  His words were cruel and hard as he lowered his head with unnerving slowness, his mouth latching tightly onto one pink nipple. The tiny bud at first puckered and hardened under his assault, his lips drawing and suckling to tease her into a moment of desire before his teeth bit down and tore at the tender skin. She sobbed aloud again, her distress alive and invigorating. He allowed a husky groan to escape before shoving her to the ground, forcing her onto her hands and knees.

  The young woman screamed as his hand pulled at her hair, her thin fingers reaching behind and trying desperately to free herself from his grasp. He forced her back into position and moved behind her, pushing his erection against her as he prepared to take her and she cried louder as his intent became clear. He snarled angrily as her screams filled his chambers, forcing her legs apart and mounting her in a manner as primal as any bastard beast when he mounts his bitch, driving deep with one violent stroke. She yelled out in pain and he felt the sticky warmth of her blood begin to ooze around him as he pierced her virginity, and she tried desperately to scramble away in an attempt to escape the unwanted invasion. He merely laughed maniacally as his grip on her waist tightened, setting a merciless pace and pounding ruthlessly into her, splitting her further and enjoying the building excitement caused by her cries of pain and confused arousal.

  “Very nice,” he murmured, his shaft swelling and throbbing as he forced it repeatedly into her tight, slick channel. His hand tugged at her hair, causing her head to snap painfully back as he moved in and out of her, each time withdrawing almost completely before burying himself again and sending a fresh stab of pain jolting through her. With a primal howl he folded his massive frame over her, his thrusts growing more wild and agitated, his desire fueled by her pain.

  And then, the unexpected happened; Hippolyte froze with shock as he felt her orgasm wash over her. Her tiny channel convulsed in rhythmic pleasure, sucking and pulling at him, and he felt his stomach tighten in response as he enjoyed the deliciousness of it.

  “You should NOT have done that,” he murmured, “For I know now that you are meant for my special touch.” He smiled wickedly as he closed his eyes and allowed her spasms to push him towards his own release, holding her tight beneath him as he emptied himself into her. She gasped then cried out once more in pain when he exploded and filled her with his seed, writhing and twisting desperately as a searing, burning sensation set in, making it feel as if her core had been set to flame. Hippolyte smiled, satisfied, and pulled away from her, the now softened length of him slipping free of her like a writhing serpent, slickened and cold.

  The young woman crumpled to the floor as soon as he released her and she began to wretch and sputter, coughing and choking on her own bile before finally falling onto her side to grow still and quiet. He watched her fragile form dispassionately, feeling no pity or remorse as she collapsed before him. There was, however, an unfamiliar rise of anticipation within him and he smiled. He could not remember the last time he had been gifted with such an intriguing pet to play with. Reachi
ng down to grab roughly at her, he lifted her easily and slung her slight form over his shoulder with cool indifference. Her breathing was shallow but regular, and he realized with a grim smile that she must have fainted.

  Shrugging and unconcerned, he walked over and tossed her unceremoniously onto the large bed, a massive collection of plush mattresses framed on each corner by large columns of intricately carved ivory – or what appeared to be ivory. Thick, golden ropes were draped around each column to hold back heavy velvet curtains trimmed in shimmering gold lace. It was stunning until one studied closely and realized the columns were made of smoothly carved bones, the massive headboard an intricate pattern of bleached white skulls. He studied her for a moment as her slight form became lost among the tangle of sheets, then went off to release Melisande. If she apologized nicely, he would allow her to join him, for he enjoyed watching her feed and take pleasure from other women. The image this elicited was a pleasing one and he smiled wickedly, the memory of the last meal they had recently shared both vivid and arousing.

  Let her rest, he thought hungrily as he slid his gaze back to where the girl still lay unconscious in his bed. He wanted her fully awake when he returned with Melisande.

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