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Abi

By: charlesincharge169



He was in the kitchen when Abi came home. He hadn't expected her so soon: she was supposed to be out with the girls this afternoon. A little flustered, he looked around the house, hoping he hadn't left a mess anywhere. No, it was all tidy. He smiled and met her eyes.

"Hi, Abi!" He was half-way through mopping the kitchen floor now. For a moment he waited for her to lock the door and take off her jacket. She smiled back cheerfully.

"Hi, virgin."

"H..." his cheeks were red. She saw and turned her head a little as if to laugh. "Please don't call me that," he said quietly, and he held the mop a little tighter. She didn't respond. Maybe she hadn't heard him. She just kept smiling. He felt his cheeks get hotter, his legs lose a little strength, and he got back to his work.

"I got home early," Abi said, laying her jacket down over the sofa's back. Laura had work to do. Are you nearly done?"

She came a little closer and leaned though the doorway, making a point not to step on the wet floor. He smelled her perfume as she did, and just stopped thinking for a second. He loved her perfume. He didn't even know what brand it was: if he knew, he thought, he might like it less. To him it was the smell of Abi. It was perfect.

And she was beautiful. Her skin seemed too soft, to him, the colour of her eyes too smooth and rich, her lips too perfect. He almost wished she were a little less gorgeous, just so she didn't seem quite so unattainable. Eventually he realised he hadn't answered. "Y-yeah," he said. "Just need to finish the floor and let it dry."

"Thanks again, virgin. You really saved me a lot of work." before he could say anything, her impossible beauty turned away from him, her too-soft hair lazily slipping off the slick, painted doorframe behind her. Her fragrance gradually fading. She turned on the TV.

And just for a second, the reality of his situation hit him. What was he doing? Why did she have to call him that, when she knew how much it hurt him every time? This was not his house and she was not his girlfriend, so... why?

He spotted a piece of fluff on the floor, bent over to pick it up and swept over the spot with the mop. He needed to hurry up or Abi wouldn't be pleased with him. With new energy he moved on.

There was no point dwelling on 'why', really; he knew exactly why he allowed Abi to use him like this. He was completely in love with her and he just couldn't say no. Of course, he had always been the sort of guy who put women on pedestals, admired them from afar, obsessed over them when he found one who liked it... and he had always been the submissive type, espescially when it came to strong women. Maybe it was his vague, so-called Feminist beliefs, maybe it was his weak will, maybe he was just a coward and he felt comfortable being told what to do. Maybe it was right, like it felt, like he sometimes wondered. Or maybe he was just so horny, so desperate for a woman to finally take an interest in him, that he would do anything a pretty girl asked if he thought she might like him for it. Whatever it was, he was here. In Abi's flat instead of his own. Mopping.

Finally, he finished, and propped-up the mop and plastic bucket by the side of the room. Moving a little closer to Abi, he brushed his hands. "All done," he said happily. It had been a long day: she had asked him to come over at 8AM so that she could finish washing and cleaning her flat before she got back. He had made good time.

She turned her head and time almost slowed down, as much as it ever did for him. He looked into her eyes again and let his breathing quicken a touch, fantasizing. If only she would do more than just say thanks... if only she might hug him, hold his hand for a second, maybe even kiss him. The thought of it made his penis grow uncomfortably in his trousers, pressing awkwardly against his clothes in the wrong position, so he stopped himself thinking. But still he watched her and waited patiently, all-but begging for some sign that he had earned her affection.

She stood and lowered her chin for a second, and opened her soft lips. They opened further, until he couldn't deny it any longer: she was pouting -- she was preparing for a kiss! After all this time, all the time he had longed for her, it was finally going to happen!

Abi finished her kiss and blew it off her hand, winking. "Thanks," she said warmly and sat back down. He felt a long sigh por through his chest as he released his breath. An air kiss. She hadn't even come close to him.

He had dreamed about their first kiss so many times. That time he was ready to believe it.

"Come and sit with me," she said, as if deliberately interrupting his sad thoughts. Without thinking, he trotted over to her and sat. She was in the corner of the sofa but shuffled over to be closer to him. Part of him loved that, of course, and part of him wished she wouldn't. It was hard to be near her: it made him feel so lonely, just knowing he couldn't put his arm around her. And of course it made him desire her in another way, too: it always made him hot, frustrated, panting. Completely aroused. He felt the side of her head lay down on his shoulder.

"I need to scrub the shower, too," she almost-whispered. "Clean the floor and sides of it. But I'm so tired." She sounded tired, too. He felt sorry for her, even though he knew he was being used.

"I'll do it before I go," he said, breathing the perfume deeply now. In response, she made a show of yawning and nuzzled her head into his shoulder.

He couldn't stop it this time: immediately he felt an erection grow and press against his black nylon pants. He needed to adjust himself, to shuffle around and free it, even just to groan -- anything to relieve the pressure between his legs. Abi noticed.

For what seemed like a long time she just giggled, hand over mouth as though she couldn't stop. Eventually she lifted her head a little and asked, "Is someone a bit too happy to see me?"

He thought of laughing, thought of apologising, thought a lot about crossing his legs and freeing himself, but he was stunned. He made some involuntary frightened grunts, and Abi giggled more. As she did, she reached over, delicately lifted the seam of his trousers, giving him room to become fully erect. He groaned again.

"I'm sorry... I..."

"That's all right!" she said, still almost laughing. "I know you can't help it, virgin."

He swelled even more. He had wanted her all day, all year, and now she was teasing him again. Calling him that. It was painful.

"Please..." he said, too loud, "please don't call me that."

"Why not, virgin?"

He was throbbing with lust and embarassment. "I... it feels..."

"What?"

It had now been two weeks since she had found out his secret. He was still a virgin. Through school, through college, his whole life, he had never quite been able to conquer his fears and anxiety long enough to make it that far with a girl. Now he was far too old, and felt trapped with this forever. He hated that about himself.

Abi had figured it out. The two of them had been 'friends' for many months, and she had repeatedly asked why he never had a girlfriend, mostly just to tease him, he assumed. Finally she had learned enough to understand why he was so cagey, and she just asked. He told her yes: what could he say? And she had almost-laughed. The same almost-laugh she was using now. It was cruel and gleeful without pretence. She enjoyed his suffering. Part of him loved that, really, but...

"It... hurts my feelings!"

This time she laughed out loud. Ever since she had guessed his secret, Abi had deliberately not used his name. When she spoke to him now, she just called him 'virgin'. He visibly reacted every time, but she never showed what she was thinking. She seemed so casual and calm when she said it.

Slowly but deliberately, Abi moved from her corner of the sofa, turned sideways to face him. She lifted-up her perfect, smooth, just-the-right-shape legs and rested them on his thighs, weighing them down. She pressed into him with another yawn, one leg on each side of the painful, throbbing tent in his pants, and turned her head. The way you might to talk to a child.

"I'm sorry if it hurts your feelings, virgin. But it makes me happy."

Her thighs were so close to his cock. His mind was racing with frustration and longing.

"I thought you liked making me happy? You're such a nice boy, such a good friend to me."

He just nodded. He didn't even think.

"It's funny to me," she said, smiling again. "There's no need to get upset about it, virgin." And with that, she dropped her soft palm onto his forearm and held it.

He nodded again and calmed down. Joy and adoration flooded his simple mind. He had what he wanted, if only for a moment -- her affection. The throbbing in his groin was literally aching him now, but he didn't mind. She was touching his arm. He let himself dream of their first kiss again.

"Okay, virgin?"

"Y-es. Sorry, Abi."

"That's okay. You can clean the shower later on. I want to use it before you do -- I won't be long so you can just wait by the door with a towel, if that's okay."

"Okay."

"But before that," and she looked at his pants again, "someone needs to calm down. I don't want you getting all excited, especially after you go home, if you know what I mean. Sorry virgin, but I can't stand the idea of you playing with yourself and thinking about me."

"I... sorry..."

"Okay, so let's just wait here a little longer."

Abi leaned back on the sofa with an adorable, beautiful sigh, stretching her arms and middle. The more she stretched, the more the edge of her top inched over her warm, slim, perfect belly, and she left it that way once she was comfortable. Her heavy legs remained in place, surrounding his discomfort and weighing it down on either side, trapping it. The touch of her legs made him crazy.

For a few hours they stayed like this, her contendedly watching the TV and him in agony, staring at her body, trying to glimpse her skin, her eyes, her mouth. Finally she got up, nodded at his cleaning bucket and said, "Come on. Time for my shower."

She didn't touch him again that day. When he headed home, the pain and arousal were so much, and had been with him so long, that he could barely think. He just hoped he would be able to see her again soon.

Abigail



Melanie had been Abigail Somner's best friend as long as either of them could remember. They had grown up nearby each other, gone to school together and now were about to launch into their college careers together.

Mel had always been the prime mover, the 'go getter' of the pair. Abi was quieter, more introspective, in fact she was just plain shy. Nevertheless Mel knew her as a kind caring and devoted friend who had helped get Mel out of jams of her own making. One of Mel's boyfriends described Abi as quiet, shy but with an engaging intelligence.

When Mel had stayed out late with a boyfriend, Abi had covered for her. She told Melanie's mother when she rang that Mel was taking a bath and that she would get her to ring back pronto. A quick call to Mel's cell-phone had the wayward youngster talking to her parent within three minutes.

Despite their closeness, Abi seldom discussed her sex life with her friend. Mel, on the other hand, was much more forthright about her own activities. She assumed her friend had much the same experiences. After all they shared so many tastes; clothes, music, books and food, for instance, that Mel naturally thought Abi was simply her usual shy self and didn't want to have to explain her own sexual experiences.

When the girls started college together, Mel quickly enrolled as a cheerleader. She was not particularly interested in the sport for itself,but as a means to meet men. Mel's preference was for a sport she could indulge in in the dark, lying on her back!

Of course the two friends discussed this aspect of Mel's life. Abi declared she couldn't see what all the fuss was about.

"If I never have sex again ever, it wouldn't bother me," she declared.

"I don't know how you can possibly say that," Mel retorted. As their discussion became more heated, it emerged that Abi had never experienced an orgasm. Because of her timidity, she had always let the boys take the lead and they had naturally satisfied themselves without regard to her fulfilment. Young boys and some younger men often come quickly, especially if they have to do a lot of petting, trying to persuade a shy girl to allow sex. As a consequence, many young girls regard men as selfish and inconsiderate.

Abi was one of that group.

Later, lying in bed, Mel wondered what she could do to help her friend. But the thought didn't last long. A few days later Mel met a new boyfriend who seemed to sweep her off her feet. Abi saw less of her friend than she had for several years and began to wonder if she had done something to annoy or offend her.

Of course they saw each other during the day but Mel always seemed to be going off in a hurry. Eventually the girls found themselves sharing a coffee break. And Mel confessed she had a man.

"But you've had men before," Abi blurted out.

"Not like this one," Mel said enthusiastically.

"Is he another footballer?" Abi asked, anxious to know more about this man who was taking up so much of her friend's time.

"Yes," Mel replied, "But there's something else too."

"Oh! Come on Mel, do tell me," Abi sounded keen to know all about him.

"Well, he's tall, about six foot three, very well built and he's quite a handsome brute," Mel told her friend, "And he's a great lover, the best I've ever known. But there's one other thing you should know."

Mel paused as if gathering her thoughts, "He's black."

There she'd said it. 

Mel knew Abi would never tell on her, especially to any of their parents If Mel's folks got to hear about it they would disown their daughter.

Abi's parents were more liberal, but if Abi said anything to them, it might get back to Mel's people. And Mel had to admit, as much as she loved them, they were downright racists.

"His name's Jamal," she told her friend.

Abi's reaction was that anyone who made her best friend so happy couldn't be anything but good. She reached across the table and squeezed Mel's hand.

"You had me worried these last few weeks. I'm glad it was nothing really serious!" she said with a grin.

"There's one more thing, Abi. I'm pregnant," Mel held on to Abi's hand very tightly.

Abi caught her breath. There wasn't much Mel was going to be able to do to stop things getting out of hand unless...

"Now that is serious! Are you thinking about an abortion?" she asked.

"Oh! No, Abi. I want to have Jamal's baby more than anything in the world, but I'm scared it will get back to my folks and the balloon will go up."

"When is it due?" Abi inquired.

"In another seven and a half months," Mel told her.

Abi did some calculating.

"That'll be during the summer recess. We could go off on a trip or something like that. Then after you've had it, you can go home for a few days, nice and thin, while I look after it for you." Abi suggested. 

She looked thoughtful, "Does the father know about it? Is he going to take responsibility for it? Will he marry you?" the questions were hitting Mel thick and fast.

"He says he would like us to marry when he graduates. That's eighteen months hence. But he will help all he can until then," Mel said with a sigh. She felt greatly relieved that her best friend was apparently going to stick by her and help.

In fact, Abi seemed to Mel to be just as interested in the minutiae of her pregnancy as she was herself. And she could hardly wait for the great event. The next few months went by too quickly for Mel and far too slowly for Abi. The latter even bought a skein of wool and a pair of knitting needles. 

"You don't even know how to knit!" Mel remarked.

"I'll soon learn," was Abi's response. And she did.

Their plan, mostly Abi's, worked fine. Abi went to see her parents at the start of the recess, while Mel stayed with Jamal. Then after the birth,Jamal went home, and then Mel departed for a few days with her folks.

When the term began, Mel moved in with Jamal, leaving Abi living in their apartment on her own. Mel said she would soon find someone to take her place but Abi said not to hurry. She was enjoying having the whole space to herself.

Visiting her friend and playing with the baby, Abi did occasionally get a wistful look in her eye, an expression which was not lost on Mel. 

Having kept her baby secret from her folks, Mel was still receiving an allowance from home which helped her pay the fees for day-care and even the occasional baby-sitter when Abi was busy.

The whole affair seemed to make the girls even closer than ever.

Jamal got it right when he described Abi as 'engagingly intelligent.' 

"She always seems to be smiling when I see her," Jamal said.

He also said she was wasted without a boyfriend, a sentiment that would have ruffled a few feminist feathers but Mel knew what he meant. Abi was too reserved to share her good nature, kindness and cheerfulness very widely. She just wasn't that kind of person. Everybody who knew her loved her but she didn't have a vast number of friends and acquaintances. Mel knew she did go on a few dates, even having sex sometimes. But nothing regular.

Mel thought Abi was the best looking girl she knew. A lovely face on a slender body that somehow contrived to have all the curves in exactly the right places, perched on beautifully contoured legs.

"Also," Jamal went on, "She'd be a wonderful mother." 

That was something Mel hadn't contemplated for her friend, but as the weeks went by a kernel of an idea began to form.

"We'll get her a flat mate," she told Jamal.

They took their time selecting, discussing, mostly rejecting. Half term was upon them with no progress. After that the run up to Christmas took their minds off the subject but not completely.

Jamal solved the problem of the Christmas break by taking his son with him on a visit to his parents. His sister persuaded Mel that all would be well. So Abi and Mel went home and enjoyed a quiet holiday with their folks, apart from the calls Mel felt she had to make to reassure herself that all was well with her baby son.

After the new year, they started back at college and Mel was introduced to a man who Jamal had got to know during the break. She loved his accent. It sounded far too English for a man so black. Jerome, Jerry to his friends, hailed from the Ivory Coast and had been educated initially in France. Then he had won a scholarship to Oxford and spent the next six years in England studying for a career in medicine. Now he was doing post-graduate work in the US. He would be at the college for at least a year.

As far as Mel was concerned, he was ideal, even if he did wear spectacles, and was ten years older than Abi. In fact the specs reinforced his scholarly look. 

Mel told Abi she had found a flatmate for her and found her friend receptive to the idea. In fact Abi had been finding it a bit of a tight squeeze financially running the flat by herself and had been contemplating going into a dorm.

When she opened the door to him at the appointed time, she was taken aback. Mel had never mentioned the new flatmate was to be a man, let alone a black man. She wrapped her thin housecoat a little tighter around her, as she invited him in. She half hoped he would find the place too small or too big or somehow not to his taste but no. He was very pleased with it and gave her a cheque for the deposit right away.

Later Abi remonstrated with Mel about not letting her know what was going on. She told her friend that it would be strictly a business arrangement -- no funny business.

Although Abi had her doubts, Jerry had not long moved in before she began to find him easy to get along with. He was like her in many ways, quiet, studious and an avid reader of books. Within two weeks they had a good system worked out for bath-times, meals and indicating when they were going to be late back.

After a month, Mel was a little perplexed that no romance seemed to be budding between them. They both said separately that they liked their flat-mate and found the situation very congenial but neither felt like getting emotionally involved.

Jamal and Mel invited them over for a celebration, their son being eight months old. They arranged for a good hearty meal, plenty of wine and soft music. They even had a few joints. But when Mel suggested that the visitors stayed the night in their only spare room, Abi slept on the bed and Jerry in an easy chair.

Mel told Jamal she was going to give up on the match-making business!

What she didn't know was that Abigail and Jerry were gradually getting closer. For instance, Abi would do the washing and drying for both of them. More remarkable still, Jerry would do the ironing. Mel would have been delighted if she could have seen the fond care with which Jerry ironed Abi's panties, slips and nighties.

Abi and Jerry were gradually growing in familiarity, settling into a domestic scene without being too aware of what was happening to them. One day, after washing her hair, Abi forgot herself to the point of wandering out of her room towards the bathroom with her housecoat open, giving Jerry a great view of her in her bra and panties.

He hastened to apologise as if it had been his fault somehow. 

"Never mind," she replied, "you didn't see anything you couldn't have seen at the beach or by a swimming pool."

Mel would also have been pleased with the fact that Jerry secretly longed to take Abi in his arms and make mad passionate love to her. He dare not because he feared rejection. And if he made a pass at her and she refused his advances, it would make life together impossible to the point where he might have to move out. Jerry was long past the point where he could afford to take that risk.

Abi, for her part, had noticed when stripping Jerry's bed one day that there were semen stains on the sheets. Her immediate thought as she bundled the linen into the washing machine was, 'What a waste!'

The half-term break came and went. 

The rest of the term passed in much the same manner. Although Abi and Jerry seemed to be getting on just fine with each other, their relationship didn't appear to be progressing as Mel hoped it would.

As the weeks went by, Mel realised that the year was two-thirds gone and Jerry's course would finish at the beginning of July, after which he would be returning to Europe. He had told Mel he was torn between a post in a French hospital and more research in England. The issue was decided by an offer of a post which would enable him to further his knowledge of cardiology under one of the most prominent specialists in England. Jerry's ambition was to become a heart surgeon. 

One rainy afternoon, about two months before Jerry's departure, Abi came back to the apartment after lunch. She had no classes that afternoon, so she had taken a walk, got caught in the rain and taken shelter in a book-store. She had bought a book, a romantic novel, and now settled down to read it. She had taken off most of her damp clothes down to her panties, pulled on a chemise and was lying on her bed reading the book 

Then she heard a noise, something like heavy breathing.

She got up and went to Jerry's door where the noise seemed to come from. She listened. At first she thought Jerry must have brought back a girl to the apartment and was making love to her.

But there were no girlie noises.

Abi noticed that the door wasn't fully shut. She put her hands against it and gently pushed. It opened a little. The cracked open door gave Abi a very limited angle of view but it was enough for her to be able to see Jerry massaging his cock vigorously.

Realising he was jerking off, Abi was seized by a desire to help him, to please him, to give him the use of her own body. But she wasn't sure he would like it if she suddenly made her presence known.

She became aware of her hand rubbing her crotch in time with Jerry's movements. She backed away and returned to her own room. 

Then one afternoon when neither of them had classes, Abi and Jerry met at lunch in the cafeteria. After the meal, they began to walk back to the apartment when there was a flash of lightning and a tremendous crash of thunder. Caught in the open, they pair began to run but there was a spatter of raindrops, then nothing. They slowed to a walk. Suddenly the skies opened and the rain torrented down on them. Jerry wanted to run again, but Abi pulled him back.

"It's only a shower," she said, "I don't mind the rain. And even if we ran, we'd still get wet."

As there was no shelter for some distance, they strolled along getting increasingly soaked. The rain kept falling with no let up. The rain-drops were bouncing back off the path to knee height and for a few seconds there was a shower of small hailstones.

Soaked through to the skin, they eventually reached a doorway where they could shelter, which they did because they could hardly see where they were going. Once stationary, they stood shivering. Jerry noticed how cold Abi was and put his arm around her shoulders. The sodden girl leaned into him and put her own arm round his waist. Jerry held his breath as he looked down at her.

She was smiling up at him. He half turned and looked into her laughing eyes. He raised his free hand and brushed the rain from her cheeks. Then he kissed her.

As he did so, he held his breath until he felt her respond. It was with joyous relief that he pressed home the kiss. 

He had been dreading rejection. During his six years studying in England he had, at first, immersed himself in his studies. Then he had met another student, a young Jamaican called Arty (short for Ewart though he never told anyone.) They had formed an instant bond. Part of the attraction for Jerry was Arty's extrovert nature and his uncanny ability with women. Arty could go into a disco and within four or five minutes could tell which 'birds' were the most likely to agree to a one night stand. He told Jerry it was something about the girl's eyes, body language and general demeanour that informed him as to whom he should devote his efforts that evening. And, much to Jerry's bafflement, he was never wrong. And it was very seldom that the dread-locked Jamaican was refused!

They went out once or twice during each week and every time he 'scored' with a girl. Jerry put a tick against that date in his diary, as well as the girl's name if he could remember it. After Arty had finished his studies and left for pastures new, Jerry sat down and counted the ticks. There were two hundred and fifty two of them. Mostly young art students and nursing students but also many working girls from waitresses to air hostesses. All with a common fancy or curiosity about black cocks and a willingness to try anything for a laugh...

If, however, Jerry thought of himself as a bit of a Casanova, he was soon disillusioned.

On his own, he was singularly unsuccessful to the point of enduring three months of celibacy before flying the Atlantic to start a post-graduate course where he met Jamal and eventually, Abi. He had taken an instant liking to her, but it has always been difficult for one introvert to get to know another to the point of intimacy.

A natural diffidence added to fear of rejection inhibited them both, but now, at last, he was holding her in his arms. And kissing her.

It started as a gentle brush of lips on lips. Then he moved them slowly, then pressed a little and then, as the pressure increased, he opened his lips and lightly slipped his tongue against hers.

She immediately flicked her own tongue over his. Suddenly they seemed to be trying to eat each other. 

They didn't notice the rain had stopped for several minutes. Then they hurried to cover the last few yards to the apartment.

Once inside, Abi made for the bathroom, where she buried her face in a towel. Jerry followed. When they had dried their faces, they embraced and kissed again. 

Then they spontaneously started to undress. Down to boxer shorts, bra and panties, they embraced again. Although Abi was luxuriating in the taste of Jerry's mouth and tongue, she was also keenly aware of his inflated manhood pressing urgently against her tummy. She let herself slide down, the lump travelling up over her waist and between her breasts until it was alongside her neck.

As she dragged his shorts down , his cock sprang out, bobbing against her ear. 

She drew back a little, the better to see it.

"Wow!" she exclaimed as she caught sight of the glistening black monster within a few inches of her face, "Oh, Jerry, it's so beautiful."

In all his many and varies experiences, Jerry had never been told by any girl that his cock was a thing of beauty. Abi reached out for it, her hand closing around it as if she was holding a truncheon, As she gently stroked it, gazing at it in awe she said again, "It's beautiful, absolutely lovely."

She bent forward and softly kissed the tip, running her tongue across it in a way that made Jerry tingle with delight.

Unknown to Jerry, she had been scouring the internet two nights back looking for interracial sites. She had come across one which showed a young girl sucking her black boyfriend's cock with great skill and joy. The girl was so obviously pleased to be able to pleasure her fellow by letting him come in her mouth, she couldn't help grinning at her skill. Abi had enjoyed seeing the clip and learned what she could from it, wishing it was her and that the boyfriend was Jerry.

Of course Jerry knew nothing of this, He was surprised when Abi closed her lips around his cock and proceeded to suck and lick eagerly as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a girl to do. 

Abi, for her part, was discovering something of the power a girl can wield over a man as she felt Jerry's cock respond to her ministrations. Much to her surprise, she also discovered how much she enjoyed the taste and feel of Jerry's cock. She tried to relax her throat to give it maximum access without gagging. She heard him announce he was coming, but like the girl in the video clip she had watched, was content to let him come in her mouth. It was her way of showing Jerry how much she wanted to give herself completely to him.




Abigail



"Oh, fuck," he muttered, then groaned softly as his climax occurred, shooting his load into Abi's throat and mouth. She swallowed gamely, struggling not to waste any of his precious cum. She savoured it like some exotic nectar, thinking how easily she could acquire a taste for this life-giving creamy goo.

She carried on fondling and sucking on Jerry's cock, hoping that it would remain big and stiff enough for the next stage of their love-making.

She reached behind her back to quickly unclip her bra, then holding his cock in one hand, she pushed her panties off with the other. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she rolled back, opening her legs in a clear indication of her desires.

He climbed over her. She took hold of his cock again and guided it to the opening between her legs that Jerry had dreamed about, lying in his own bed at night. Abi was by now so wet down there that Jerry had no trouble thrusting his cock into her. After the slightest resistance it slid in. She whimpered more in delight than pain.

"My prick isn't hurting you, is it?" he asked.

She smiled up at him, "No, silly, it feels absolutely wonderful inside me. I love it."

His cock was three inches into her. He began thrusting and withdrawing, driving it deeper with each thrust. She was soon accepting the whole length of it. He drove his cock faster into the appreciative girl. She felt a tingling start that seemed to spread rapidly to every part of her body. Jerry was grunting, "I'm coming, Abi. I'm fucking you now."

"Oh, yes," she cried as she was overwhelmed by her orgasm, "Oh yes, fuck me Jerry, fuck me!"

She was moaning now as Jerry ejaculated his load of sperm into her, the pace of their motion slowly declining as if they were reluctant for it to end.

Suddenly Abi was laughing and kissing him. Then the breathless pair relaxed in that warm afterglow of a perfect coupling.

When they had recovered sufficiently, Abi used her hand and mouth to restore Jerry's cock to size before she mounted him, lowering herself eagerly onto his cock. This time she enjoyed several orgasms before Jerry shot his third load of cum into her.

Satisfied for now, she curled up alongside him, her head on his shoulder, his prick in her hand. They slept soundly until long after daybreak.

When he awoke, Jerry thought he had somehow got back to his own room, but then realised he was still in Abi's larger room. There were many of his things visible. Then Abi appeared with a breakfast tray.

She explained she had been moving his things into her room.

"I took it for granted we'd be sleeping together from now on," she explained. 

Jerry smiled; nothing could have pleased him more.

They ate breakfast side by side in bed. Then Jerry pulled back the bedclothes to show Abi his morning 'boner'.

"I hope you like being fucked in the morning, Abi," he waved his cock at her grinning, "because it would be a shame to waste this."

Abi could see his point, although she had never thought of herself as a morning sort of person. But when she found herself lying under him with her legs wide open and his cock pistoning in and out of her, she realised she could easily change her mind on that point.

Later that day they were due to have a meal at Jamal and Mel's place.

When they got there, Mel could soon see by their attitude to each other that her best friend had finally surrendered to Jerry's charms. She was overjoyed for her. 

Later, in the kitchen, the girls talked frankly. Abi admitted to being unsure as to whether she was in love or in lust with Jerry.

"He made love to me four times in a day," Abi reported, "It must be lust. Perhaps it's just his wonderful cock I'm in love with!"

"If I were you,Abi, I'd give it at least a month, maybe more," Mel advised, "And when the euphoria wears thin you'll soon find out where you stand. In the meantime you might as well lie back and wallow in debauchery. Enjoy it while it lasts, my girl."

The advice was basically sound, but the trouble was that Abi and Jerry had little time left. As she waved goodbye at the airport, Abi had still not discovered the truth of her feelings for Jerry and as far as she knew it was much the same for him.

A week before he left, Jerry had been visited a couple of times by his old Jamaican friend, Ewart Johnson, Arty. Abi had met him once. She had been introduced by Jerry when Arty called to see his old chum at the apartment. She didn't see him again and assumed that the dread-locked Jamaican had been visiting the States on holiday. 

About a month after Jerry had left, Arty called and asked Abi out for a lunch. After a moment's hesitation, Abi agreed. She found he was an engaging companion, chatty, witty and full of humorous tales.

After he had delivered her safely back to the apartment, he asked her to go out with him to dinner the following week. There seemed to be no harm in it, and, as she had enjoyed his company over lunch, she agreed.

Arty took her to a swanky place where there was a small dance-floor and a four piece group playing live music. The food was good, the wine was better and after the meal, Abi and Arty enjoyed several dances. At midnight, Arty called a taxi which took them back to Abi's place. Arty gave her a lingering kiss and bade her good night. Then he left in the taxi with Abi wondering if she was doing something wrong. She had expected at least some semblance of a pass from him. And she had been 

secretly plagued with curiosity about the size of the erection that had been so evident when they had been dancing close.

He rang three evenings later and invited her out to dinner again.

He took her to another nice venue, wined and dined her and they danced again. During the slow bits, Arty held his attractive companion close. Close enough for her to feel his passion expressed through the growing bulge in his groin. Abi felt a sense of anticipation. She had been somewhat depressed after Jerry's departure and welcomed the diversion. On the way back to Abi's apartment in the taxi, Arty sat with his arm around her, holding her close. He kissed her gently as the taxi stopped.

"Would you like to come up for coffee?" she asked him quietly.

It was exactly the offer Arty had wanted from her since he had first met Abi and made up his mind there and then to have her come what may. He paid off the driver who gave him a knowing wink. 

Once inside the place, Arty took Abi into his arms and they kissed, passionately savouring the taste of each other's tongues. 

They both forgot entirely about coffee. 

Arty's hands roamed around Abi's back and down to her bottom. He pulled her ass into him, rubbing his erection into her mound of Venus. For a second or two, Abi wasn't sure she wanted things to go so far so fast. She and Jerry had made no lasting promises to each other but she still felt some nagging sense of disloyalty to him.

But Arty's hardening cock rubbing against her was too much of a temptation. She was getting wet between her legs and the urge to see just how big Arty's cock was overcame any vestige of reluctance she felt.

Suddenly they were pulling each other's clothes off, leaving a trail of discarded outer and underwear from the hall to Abi's bedroom.

As he sat naked on the edge of her bed, she knelt and took his cock into her mouth eagerly, wondering at how black it was compared with her hands. Strange, she mused, how she had never thought of Jerry as being black although he obviously was as black as Arty. She worked his cock until he started to come in her mouth. Arty couldn't help a groan escaping him as he felt himself shooting his semen into this pretty girl. He had desired her since he first set eyes on her and had been determined to make her his own. It felt marvellous to have her eagerly swallowing his cum. He laid her back on the bed and climbed over her. She held his cock in position as he thrust it into her warm, wet and unresisting cunt. 

It felt so good to her to have another man inside her. It was something she realised she had been missing and needed badly. Arty's cock was at least as long as Jerry's and slightly thicker. It felt so good, she wondered how she had lived so much of her young life without experiencing such heavenly feelings. She reached round to Arty's ass and pulled him deep into her, as she delighted in the tingling sensation of her first orgasm for several weeks. It amazed her how quickly she had come.

Arty drove his now rigid monster cock into the warm wetness of Abi's vagina with great power and speed, a process that seemed to excite her into a long series of convulsive orgasms as she alternately gasped, then grinned with pleasure in the expert hands of her new Jamaican lover. 

She was glad she had made no promises to Jerry, nor he to her. She didn't envisage him remaining celibate for very long and she certainly wanted nothing of the sort for herself now that he had awakened her sex-drive in the way that he had. So she felt no remorse about allowing Arty to fuck her, only a sense of release, a general lowering of her inhibitions and a delicious feeling of naughtiness. 

"I could easily become a black cock slut if you keep fucking me like this," she told him.

He grinned at her, "Just what I had in mind for you, Abi!" he replied.

Arty quickly became Abi's new flat mate. But Mel didn't take to him at all. She insisted there was something that she couldn't quite put a finger on that disturbed her about her friend's new lover.

Abi had no such reservations and was content for Arty to fuck her every night and quite a few mornings too. At first she couldn't discern whether she had met the love of her life or not. On balance, she thought she probably had. 

Seven weeks after the start of their relationship, the financial crisis dried up the supply of money from Abi's parents, putting her education in jeopardy. Arty had an answer but didn't immediately disclose it to Abi.

A few days before, he and Abi had been happily fucking away. They had come together with perfect timing and at the height of her ecstatic orgasm, Abi had cried out,

"Oh! Fuck me, Arty. I love the way you fuck me. I love you,"

"I love fucking you too, Abi, you gorgeous bit of cunt," Arty replied enthusiastically.

As the after glow started to die away, Abi said,

"That was a marvellous fuck, Arty. Thank you."

"You're welcome, you insatiable black cock slut," he said, laughing kindly.

But he remembered that 'I love you' she had uttered and thought long about the consequences if he had said it back to her. Subtle changes began in his mind. He had a plan. 

He and Abi had a few drinks after dinner. When Abi became a bit woosey, Arty disappeared for twenty minutes. Abi helped herself to another drink, then thinking they would be going straight to bed to fuck when he returned, Abi had taken off her dress. She curled up on the couch clad only in a blue satin chemise and matching panties. When he returned, Arty brought a man called Ricky back to the apartment.with him 

Regarding Abi curled up on the couch. Arty thought she looked good enough to eat. 

He and Ricky got undressed and positioned the half drunk girl between them so she had Arty's cock in her mouth, while Ricky pulled her panties down and drove his prick into her cunt from the rear. There wasn't much finesse about it as they humped away at each end of the inebriated girl until they had both come. Amazingly, Abi came too and the three of them went into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed.

Abi soon found herself being fucked by them alternately. She put up no resistance, indeed, she began to take an active role in the debauchery.

In the morning, Arty handed Abi a wad of cash. 

"It's our takings from last night," he said, hoping there wouldn't be too much of a backlash. There wasn't. Abi cried a little but she didn't reject the money. They both knew what it meant. It was a way out of the financial crisis; a way of paying to complete her education.

A few days later, the same thing happened. After a few drinks, Abi just seemed to be anybodies' girl. Arty was soon bringing men back for sex nearly every night.

"It didn't take much effort to turn me from a black cock slut into a black cock whore," Abi lamented.

"I think you've got a natural talent for it," Arty chimed in.

" Actually, I don't mind as long as they're black," Abi told him. They always were.

Abi and Arty split the proceeds seventy-five/twenty-five respectively.

"You're doing the work so you should get most," Arty said, "Just as long as I can fuck you on your nights off."

"If I ever stop coming, I'm going to give up regardless," Abi warned him, "At least I can say I'm fucking them all for pleasure while I come myself and enjoy it. But no way am I going on if that stops happening to me."

Abi never said 'no' when the price was right. And there were men who would pay almost anything for a pretty young girl to flesh out their fantasies and fetishes. Arty also took her to a friend of his to make some porn videos. Abi found them even more boring to make than they were to watch. She found herself spending a lot of time giving head and other inducements to young studs who had difficulty keeping their cocks stiff enough during the intermittent filming. 

So Abi finished her final year as a black cock whore, enabling her to pay her own way through college, with a lot of help from Arty who seemed to find his niche in life as her pimp. Before the final term was over, Abi had recruited four other girls, Jane, Laura, Gail and Fran, to the cause. The two young blonds and two brunettes needed the money and all had a bit of a thing for black cocks that they turned to their advantage. 

With the new girls, Abi felt she was being edged out of Arty's life. She knew she had been playing the whore long enough. She wanted a change but was undecided about which direction to take. Nevertheless, she took her leave of Arty, and the other girls and spent the rest of the summer with her parents at home.

She got a call from Mel at the end of October telling her that Jerry was back in town.

"And he was asking about you," her friend added.

Abi's heart missed a beat. When she put the phone down, she went immediately to the mirror, took one look at her hair and made an urgent call to her favourite hair-dresser. An hour later, after a quick trim, shampoo and set, Abi was home bathing, dressing in her best undies. She put on some brand new nylon hold-ups; no garter belt as she was anxious not to show any wrinkles across the slight bulge of her tummy through the tight fitting yellow skirt, conservatively cut to just above the knee. 

It was quite different above the waist. Abi put on a see-through white nylon blouse that clearly showed off her best white satin and lace bra.

"What's the good of spending good money on nice undies if they never see the light of day!" Mel had said in the department store when they went shopping. Abi had agreed and bought the blouse.

She applied her make up sparingly, but with great care, finally surveying the result in her long mirror..With the light behind her she could see all the way up her legs, so she pulled on a short satin slip, easing the dress down over it. 

As close to being satisfied as she was likely to get, she set off to meet Jerry for the first time in nearly three years. She had insisted Mel go with her, so the pair of friends made their way to Jerry's apartment. 

Mel could feel the slight tremor of Abi's hand as it clutched her arm, so it was Mel who stepped forward and rang the bell.

The door opened and Jerry was suddenly there, still clad in his bathrobe.

He embraced Mel, who was standing slightly ahead of Abi, then he held out a hand to Abi who hadn't stepped forward. He pulled her towards him. Abi stumbled slightly and her body fell against Jerry's much more heavily than either of them had intended. It didn't matter, as their arms went around each other and they hugged, paused for a second and then began to kiss.

It was a soft, slow, gentle kiss that lingered while they both held their breath. 

As they parted, Jerry exclaimed, "You're early. I wasn't expecting you for another hour. I bet you didn't put your clocks back last night!"

They had forgotten. They all laughed and Jerry invited them in for coffee.

"You'll have to excuse me for now," Mel replied diplomatically, "I've got quite a bit of shopping to do."

Abi was startled by this as Mel hadn't mentioned it before, but she realised it was probably just an excuse to beat a retreat.

Alone, Jerry kissed his ex-landlady and flat-mate again. Abi had the strangest sensation as she kissed him back. It was like trying on an old sweater she hadn't worn for ages and finding it was still a perfect fit. Even his swelling cock against her belly had a reassuring feeling of familiarity about it. 

Abi remembered the first time she had seen Jerry's erection. She recalled describing it as , "a beautiful prick," and smiled at the memory.

Jerry caught the smile and queried it.

Abi took a deep breath. He might think she was too forward, not at all like the shy Abi he used to know. Still, he might as well get used to her as she now was.

"I was remembering how, the first time I ever saw it, I told you that you had a beautiful prick," she said. 

He grinned, "I still have it."

"You could take me into your bedroom and show me properly," Abi suggested.

"You know what will happen if I take you into my bedroom and show you my prick, don't you Abi," he was grinning from ear to ear.

Her own smile was just as wide, "I know what I'm hoping for."

They looked at each other and, nodding in time with each other, chorused, "A damn good fuck!" 

Jerry and Abi walked quite slowly into the bedroom, his arm around her waist, her body leaning into him.

Jerry sat on the edge of the bed. Abi knelt between his legs. He reached out, fondling her tits as she unzipped his jeans and proceeded to pull them off. She pulled down his shorts and took hold of his jet-black cock.

Gazing at the shiny black monster in admiration , she said, "It's the most beautiful prick I've ever seen."

Abi knew she had been somewhat inept when they had made love formerly. She was now a well practised cock-sucker but she needed this one to last. She wanted to give Jerry the best experience he had ever had in a girl's mouth. She wanted to hear him cry out in ecstasy when he came.

She stuck out her tongue and ran it lightly round the tip of his cock. She worked the glistening black giant with her hands a little, teasing out a small drop of pre-cum. She licked it up, lifting her face to Jerry, so that he could see it on her tongue before she swallowed it.

Then she ran her tongue alongside his cock all the way up until her nose was buried in his curly black pubic hair. Then cradling his balls in her hand, she ran her tongue down the other side of his prick until she reached the tip, Then she closed her mouth around it, expertly relaxing her throat to take his cock deeply into her..She could feel the wondrous stiffening effect her actions had produced and it thrilled her to hear Jerry's sharp intake of breath as he started thrusting into her mouth and throat. 

She opened the top two buttons of her blouse allowing one of Jerry's hands to reach down and fondle her tit through her bra. His other hand held a handful of her hair, guiding the movements of her head in time with his thrusts. 

Now Abi's time as a well tutored whore stood her in good stead. She could take most of Jerry's cock without gagging, knowing when to let it drive deep, when to withdraw it, cover it with saliva and slurp it around in the front of her mouth.

Jerry started to groan and Abi felt a surge of elation as he shot a load of cum into her welcoming mouth. Load after load of his semen shot into her and although she swallowed gamely, some of the goo seeped out of the sides of her bulging cheeks It ran down her chin and dropped into the open space above her breasts where Jerry had just been massaging her tits. As more and more cum dropped, it began soaking into her bra. But Abi was long past caring. She was so pleased with herself at giving Jerry a great climax.




Abigail



He looked down at her, her hair in disarray, her lips, chin and throat shiny with cum, a wet patch appearing where her cum-soaked bra met her blouse and realised how lovely she was. She smiled up at him. Not only was she good to look at but her soft, yielding body was matched by her nature.

She was still holding his cock and fondling it, restoring it to it's former size. He wanted to get his prick into her, to drive it into her cunt, to hear her gasp as it filled her.

He reached down and started to lift her skirt, but it was a tight fit. The seem started to give. He ripped it all the way from the hem to the waist. Abi made no move, saying nothing to stop him as he proceeded to tear off her blouse, bra, slip and panties. She was naked except for her stockings. 

She climbed onto the bed, opened her legs and took hold of his cock.

"Come on then, Jerry, fuck me. Fuck my brains out."

She guided his cock to the entrance to her cunt. He thrust into her, driving his stiffening prick all the way into the girl until his black pubic hair was mingling with her blond curls. He heard the great gasp escape her as she accepted him, stretching her stockinged legs apart as far as she could. . 

"Fuck you, Abi. Fuck you. I've never been able to get you out of my mind since the day I left. I thought you were just another bit of cunt I could enjoy like all the others I fucked back in England. But no, every girl I've fucked since has been you, even if I had to shut my eyes to conjure you up.".

He drove his swollen prick into her hard and fast. She whimpered in delight as she came and came and came. Soon he was grunting and groaning as he began to come. He pumped load after load of cum into her welcoming cunt. He felt her vaginal muscles working to keep his orgasm going and marvelled at her willingness.

Exhausted, they were lying back on the bed, his arm round her shoulder, hers reaching down to hold his cock. 

"You know Jerry, when you lived with me before, I wasn't sure about my feelings for you. I loved your prick but I didn't know about the rest of you," she said.

"It was the same for me," he replied. He told her about his time studying when he met Arty and Arty had provided an endless stream of willing black-cock-loving girls. About how the two of them had fucked hundreds of young girls over several years. And also how without Arty, he had been useless at that sort of thing.

"I was too proud to pay for it, so I was celibate for a long time before we met. Under those circumstances I couldn't make up my mind whether it was lust or love between us."

Abi grinned, "Just how many girls did you fuck?"

"About two hundred or so," he replied.

"Did you know your friend Arty not only fucked me quite a few times but had me fucking his friends and then a whole lot of guys neither of us knew from Adam. I was a whore and Arty was my pimp," she told him

"He told me he'd moved in with you but that was all. I could hardly object when I had gone back to England. I had no more success alone at discos than before. I just couldn't carry it off like Arty. So I gave in and went to an escort agency. I hired out girls by the hour. Twice a month for two years that's all I ever fucked; whores," Jerry confessed too.

"You know, Jerry, you would have fared much better at the discos if you hadn't tried emulating Arty. You should have relaxed and been yourself. I'm sure you would have pulled quite a few girls that way," Abi told him.. 

"What sort of a future would we have together, do you think?" Jerry asked.

"Well, one thing I learned is that there's a world of difference between fucking and making love. You're the only man I ever made love to and I'm sorry I didn't realise that it was all of you I loved as well as that beautiful prick of yours," Abi explained.

"I'm equally to blame," Jerry was gallant.

"I suppose you'd better come and meet my parents, then," Abi suggested.

"Does that mean you'll marry me?" Jerry inquired.

"Are you asking me?"

"Yes I am. Will you marry me Abigail?" Jerry asked her.

"You betcha," Abi laughed.

"I'm surprised you said 'Yes' because quite a lot of white girls take black lovers, but then they revert to white when it comes to husbands," Jerry asserted.

"Isn't there a saying,'when a girl goes black she never goes back'? I think that's how it goes," Abi asked.

"The world's full of old wives tales and wishful thinking," Jerry told her.

They fell asleep and in the morning Abi rang Mel to ask her friend to bring round something to wear.

"You obviously had a good time with Jerry last night then," Mel commented. She brought along a pair of panties, a T shirt, a track-suit and some trainers

Back in her apartment, Abi rang her parents and told them she wanted to bring a boyfriend with her when she came up for the weekend. They sounded delighted and said they looked forward to meeting him.

The delight Abi's parents were experiencing was due very largely to the disturbing information they had recently received from a 'well-wisher' who remained anonymous. 

It consisted of a clip of video taken from U-Tube that showed a pretty young blond girl, naked between two well-hung black studs. She was sucking one stud's prick while the other drove his cock into her from the rear.

There was no mistaking the girl's face. It was their Abigail. What really shocked her parents was the fact that their daughter was smiling and looked as if she thoroughly enjoyed the whole process. And the title of the clip read, "Blond whore gets black fucked at both ends.".

Abi knew nothing of this so was somewhat bemused at the audible sigh of relief she heard over the phone when she spoke to her mother.

On his arrival at Abi's old home,Jerry found himself welcomed like the prodigal son. Abi's mother and father received him with smiles and an unexpectedly warm embrace.

Sanding back to observe her daughter beside her black boyfriend, Mrs Somner remarked,

"Let me get a good look at you both." 

Then she produced a camera and took a shot of them arm in arm. 

"My goodness, you two make a very handsome couple together," she couldn't suppress her joy at seeing Abi with a man like Jerry, so studious, so intelligent and so obviously desirable as a suitor, despite the ten year difference in their ages. Added to that was their open affection for each other, clearly expressed through their eyes.. 

"I hope you two always feel the same way about each other. I'm so happy for you," Abi's mother enthused, causing her daughter to blush.

Later, after dinner, Abi peeked into the spare room. The bed was unmade. When she asked her mother about the sleeping arrangements, her mother said,

"I naturally assumed you'd want to use your old room. I know it's only a three-quarter size bed, but I guess you and Jerry will manage."

Abi was a little unsettled about her parents' all too eager acceptance of Jerry. She assumed they must have made some enquiries about his background already. . 

Six weeks later, Abigail, wearing a dazzling white satin gown, walked up the aisle on her father's arm to marry her Jerry. Mel was maid of honour and Jamal was best man.

As they entered the church and started walking up the aisle to Wagner's wedding march, Abi's Dad told her she was the best looking girl in the world, a sentiment repeated by Jerry as she placed her hand on his arm standing at the altar. 

At the back of the church on the very last pew, Arty sat with a wistful smile on his face. There was a gnawing doubt in his heart as he watched Abi and Jerry plight their troth. He realised he had managed to let something slip through his fingers that was more precious than gold. And all for the want of three little words, spoken at the right moment! 

Arty knew he could so easily have fallen for Abi and made her love him too. He'd had her in his grasp but some inner demon had made him trade on their mutual lust to debase and debauch her. 

Arty hadn't needed the money Abi made as a whore. His percentage of the takings had never been deducted. And she had trusted him to the extent of never looking very closely at her account, so his generosity went unnoticed. He slipped sadly out of the church before the end of the ceremony. 

Jerry eventually got a post at the university hospital as a heart surgeon. He and Abi lived in a leafy cul-de-sac close to Jamal and Mel. 

With Mel pregnant for the third time, and with the news of Abi's wedding, Mel's parents began to melt. First Mel had a visit from her mother who couldn't stop cooing over the two toddlers. 

The news she retailed to Mel's father must have been good. A couple of months later, both Mel's parents were at her door. There were some tears shed over the long estrangement but the children helped heal the wounds. Jamal's success as a well paid football coach helped too. Both her parents, as well as Mel and Jamal themselves, were very much happier for the reconciliation.

The cul-de-sac seemed to attract the right people. Soon a well known blond actress brought her black lover to live with her there and the daughter of one of the older families brought home her black lover and the father of her child. With two other mixed race couples joining them, Abi and Mel felt they were in at the start of something new. 

A melting pot where white girls and black men - and white men and black girls - would be free not only to marry but also to try out other relationships across all racial boundaries.

"It'll be great when brown is the normal skin tone," Abi said.

And Mel replied, "Yes, and the world might be a more peaceful place too!"

During the following week, Abi bought a test kit, followed it by a confirmatory visit to her doctor who told her she was pregnant.

Abi's heart jumped for joy. She realised, as the doctor said the words, that she wanted nothing in the world as much as Jerry's baby. And she hoped for more to come.



Abigail



The following is a story first published on another web site under a slightly different nom de plume. I decided to post it here as well since there have been several mentions of it in posting for other of my stories. I'm trying to make sure that all of my works are posted here. Please note that aside from this foreword I have made no changes in any way. I hope the reader enjoys the story.

All characters are 18 or older.

Begin

Authors Note:



This is a FANTASY. Never happened. Ain't ever gonna. If you do not like stories about large breasted young women then don't continue to read. There is no sex in this! If you insist on lots of poorly worded descriptions of copulation you won't like this one!

On the other hand, if you like descriptions of boobs, and like stories with lots of descriptions of large breasts you may enjoy this. 

*

"Miss Abigail? If I could have a word with you?" 

She had almost been out the door when the instructor spoke. 

Nervously, she stepped aside while the rest of the class rushed into the hallway, chattering and laughing. Abigail was in her second week at the school, having entered in mid-term. 

As the instructor closed the door Abigail moved to stand in front of the teacher's desk, still clutching her books to her chest. It was a familiar pose. Abigail was a plain looking girl with a bookish air about her. Her stringy, mousy brown hair was held back from her face by a plastic head band. Her washed out blue eyes darted nervously behind very large horn rimmed glasses. Her legs below the modest hem of the regulation plaid skirt were quite thin while the standard blue blazer seemed to hang loosely on her shoulders. 

"Abigail, you are new here to our little grove of academy." The teacher sometimes sounded a little pompous. 

"Yes, sir." The reply was very soft. Almost inaudible. 

"You are aware that we pride ourselves on helping to develop the minds and deportment of the young ladies who are fortunate enough to attend here. I feel that I must speak with you in one regard. It has been my observation that your carriage is inappropriate." 

Sir?" 

"I have noticed that while you always wear the prescribed uniform, you also hunch over a great deal. This is unladylike." 

"I don't think the uniform fits me very well, sir." 

"Doesn't fit you well? Whatever can you mean? We spare no expense in obtaining appropriately suitable clothing for our uniforms. Now put down those books and stand up straight." 

"Yes, sir." 

Stepping forward Abigail placed her books on the teachers desk and returned to her position. She stood with her hands clutched prayerfully in front of her, elbows tight to her sides. 

"Put your hands to your sides, young lady." 

Doing so showed that the arms of Abigail's blazer were too long, reaching almost to her finger tips. 

And... 

"You are still hunched over, girl. Stand up straight! And take off that blazer. It does not fit you well, its too big!" 

"Sir, it's not too big." 

"Don't contradict me girl, now do as I say!" 

Reluctantly, very slowly, Abigail removed her blazer. Revealed was the regulation plain white button-down Oxford shirt beneath. Still, she hunched over as she placed the blazer on the chair next to her. 

"Abigail, I must insist that you stand up straight! Honestly, your posture is terrible. A well bred young lady does not slouch like that!" 

"Yes, sir", Abigail was reluctant, her face miserable as she hesitantly straightened her back. 

As she did so, the front of her blouse began to expand alarmingly, causing the teacher to take an involuntary step back. 

As Abigail slowly completed straightening up, her shirt, which had seemed to hang in a rather baggy manner, was stretched taut. Twin, matching sets of epic stress lines radiated from the broad tip of each breast impression that now strained against the fabric of her blouse. The shirt that might have seemed oversized was almost incapable of holding back the immense pair of breasts that Abigail possessed. At her waist, one tail of the shirt had almost pulled free from the grip of her skirt. 

All along the center of the shirt the fabric between the buttons was puckered and gapped. There were additional stress lines evident at each button. 

For a long moment, before he regained his composure, the teacher gawked at the young lady standing in front of him. 

"You see, sir?" Abigail sniffled, so wrapped up in her misery that she had not noticed the teacher's rapt stare, "I just can't get a good fit. I have not had time to get any tailored shirts and so this is the result." She was almost crying as she gestured at the over-stressed line of buttons. 

"Yes," the instructor gulped. "I can see that the fit leaves something to be desired. I think that this requires delving deeper. Please remove your shirt." 

"My shirt, sir?" Her voice was even shakier than before, her chin quivering. 

"Please, yes. Be assured that I have your best interests in mind." 

Cowed and intimidated by the sudden, unexpected attentions of one of the very few male teachers, Abigail did as instructed. Slowly her hands worked their way up, button by button. Finally, having undone the uppermost button, her hands twisted and pulled the shirt tails from under the skirt and pulled off the blouse. She quickly clutched it in front of her, hunching over in her familiar pose. 

"Just put the shirt to one side and stand up now, girl!" His voice was firm but kindly, betraying only a hint of a quiver. 

"Sir," she responded, as she turned and placed the blouse on top of the blazer. 

"Very good, girl. Now let me get a look at you and stop slouching!" 

"But sir, I know I look grotesque, sir. I'm sorry." 

"Why would you think you look 'grotesque', as you say?" 

"Well all my girlfriends at my high school said so and none of the boys I meet will ever talk to me..." Abigail's voice trailed off into a muffled sob. 

"But what is it about you that you feel is grotesque?" 

"These things sir!" She gestured at her bra. "I just seem to get bigger all the time and nothing fits right." Tears were now slowly sliding down her cheeks. Her hands continued to flutter in front of her as if uncertain of what they should be doing. Or where they might land. 

Given the opportunity, the teacher took a quick look at the massive bra that Abigail had revealed. It was an immense, heavy duty, quite utilitarian looking brassiere made of heavy white cotton. 

"Nonsense. Your friends at school played a cruel trick on you. They were just envious of you, I'm sure. And most boys are shy in the presence of girls that they are attracted to." 

"Oh, sir, it's nice of you to say that but I know that I'm not attractive. And I've never had a boyfriend although I've often dreamed of it." Her voice held a note of hope as if she wanted to be contradicted but did not think she would be. 

The teacher took another tack. 

"Abigail, where did you go to school before arriving at our institute of higher learning?" 

"A Catholic boarding school in Switzerland, sir." 

"And were there any boys there?" 

"Oh, no, sir! Just the hundred of us girls and the nuns and other a few other teachers. They were all women as well." 

"And vacations? Where did you go during holidays and during the summer?" 

"Well, usually Mum and Da would pick me up and we would tour Europe although I've been to America twice. That was quite nice!" Her tears had stopped flowing and Abigail stood a little more relaxed in front of the teacher. Her hands had settled at her sides. 

"So when you come down to it, you have had no chances to meet boys your own age or even any men at all. You were always in a girls' school or in the company of your parents. How could you have met any men? Let alone have a boyfriend?" 

"Well, when you put it that way. But I've seen boys look at me with a funny look on their face. And when they see I know they are looking they look away and never look back. So I don't think boys like me at all, sir." 

"More likely they thought that you would be mad at them for staring!" 

Again the teacher studied the young lady in front of him. 

"There, sir! That look on your face! That's the way most boys looked when I saw them! Then they would turn away and not look at me again!" 

A pink glow came and went quickly on the instructor's face. 

"Um, ahem, yes. Well, Abigail, you should be aware that there are some people, men that is, that find a young woman such as yourself to be quite attractive. I am sure that there are many young men that would like to be able so see you as I am now." 

"I find that hard to credit, sir." 

"Well I can only tell you that the look you saw on my face was one of admiration." 

"You are kind to try to deceive me, sir. The girls at the school all told me that girls that look like me are not attractive to men. They were quite emphatic about it. I know that the look in your eyes was one of dislike." 

"And again I tell you that your schoolmates have misled you. Tell me, were there any other girls at your school who were as blessed as you are?" 

"Blessed, sir?" 

"With the same kind of figure, that is to say." 

"Well, no." 

"Have you ever met anyone who's figure is voluptuous as yours?" 

"Sir, I am not voluptuous. That would imply broad hips and fleshy thighs. I am quite thin through the waist, hips and thighs." Her interest was in accuracy. She was not bragging, stating fact. "The other girls called me top heavy and that is, in truth, what I am. Top heavy." 

"As you say." The student seemed quite a bit more comfortable now. And although her shoulders were still hunched forward a little, her back was straight. The teacher took a moment to examine more closely the young lady in front of him. 

She watched him looking at her. At first she seemed about to remonstrate with him but then subsided. There was something, well, warm, that went through her as she felt his eyes upon her body. She wondered if she was beginning to enjoy it. 

Seemingly unaware of the reaction of his student the teacher examined Abigail carefully. Her shoulders and arms were very thin as were the legs that he could see below the hem of her skirt. Her collarbone stood out in relief under her porcelain skin and her waist, visible below her capacious bra, was lithely muscled. The contrast between her limbs and the load her torso carried was extreme. Top heavy might not be a strong enough description, he thought. The outer sweep of each bra cup came to about the middle of Abigail's biceps as her looked at her straight on. 

Which led him to examine Abigail's bra. Each bra cup consisted of several panels of heavy duty cotton with extremely heavy stitching joining the panels together. Each cup seemed large enough to contain a regulation size basketball with ease. Above each cup, rising toward Abigail's collar bone, was a hillock of flesh which seemed enough to fill an ordinary B bra cup. The visible cleavage extended from the join of these hillocks, about two inches below Abigail's collar bone, for several inches before it vanished into the bra. From the bottom of her bra's body strap to the top of her cleavage had to be at least 18 inches, thought the instructor. Attaching each cup to its shoulder strap was hardware that would have appeared more at home on the parachute the teacher had used while in the Rangers. Each strap was at least an inch wide where its hardware met the cup. At the shoulder the straps widened to almost double that width and were equipped with padding which helped, he supposed, to distribute the weight more easily. Strangely, the straps did not appear to be under much strain despite the size of the cups they supported. There was no ornamentation on the bra at all. Not on the panels, not on the trim pieces, nor on the straps either. The instructor could not hazard a guess as to how far in front of Abigail her breasts projected. 

While he had been looking at Abigail she had been watching him watch her. In her mind she was reviewing what the instructor had said to her. Could he be right about her school chums? They had seemed sincere. To a girl they had declared that boys did not like large breasts, at least not ones as large as Abigail's had come to be in her years at the convent school. But then not one of them had a bosom near to the size that she had. Could the other girls have been jealous? And her breasts were even bigger now. She was wearing her newest brassiere, the one that fit the best of all her bras. 

While the instructor's attention was still directed at studying her figure she tried to reconcile her school experiences with what he had said and with the feelings that she often felt. At times her breasts could provide her with strangely thrilling feelings. Sometimes, before slipping into bed at night she would examine herself in the mirror. Often, she would feel warm, tingly sensations radiate through out her body as her unrestrained breasts quivered and shook in sympathy with her breathing. Gradually her shoulders straightened up and she stood more comfortably in front of her teacher. 

"You know," the teacher remarked at last, "my last girlfriend wore the largest brassiere I had ever seen in my life. She measured 42-28-38 and wore a 36-EE bra. She was quite proud of her large bosom and delighted in wearing tight clothing from time to time; allowing people to see and appreciate how well endowed she was. Why, sometimes, she would even go in public with out a brassiere! She could be a bit of a tease I'm afraid." 

The revelation took Abigail aback. Was he really discussing a past relationship with her? And sharing the most personal of information. Still... 

Abigail giggled. "Oh, sir! Really? 36-EE?" 

"Yes, that is what she told me, in fact she went to some lengths to prove it to me. But I think that your brassiere may be larger even than hers!" 

"Yes, I suppose it is, sir." Another giggle. "I wore a Double E bra when I was 13 years old — over six years ago." She could hardly believe that she had said that! But Abigail found that she wanted to continue the conversation. She had decided that she liked the attention she was getting from her instructor. 

"Oh? Say you so?" 

"Yes, sir! Now I'm much, much larger than that. But with my being so much thinner than your friend I suppose I look even larger than I really am." This was said while her head was bowed forward. But her eyes were on his face while she spoke, gauging his reaction. A moment of tension built up between them. 

"What..." He paused to gulp. "What are your measurements?" 

The tension was released with this question. Abigail sensed that the conversation was entering a new and exciting phase. Her heartbeat sped up a little and she paused another moment before responding. She was enjoying this conversation! 

"I measure almost 31 inches at the hips, about 20 inches at the waist and my rib cage measures 27 inches. I'm afraid I have to have all my brassieres made to custom, sir." Her voice was still quiet but not hesitant. Instead there was a thread of confidence running through her voice now. 

"Yes, I can quite understand, Abigail." 

Abigail waited for the next question, anticipating what it would be. 

"You seem to have been under the impression that no one could appreciate you.Was your mother reluctant to talk with you about your maturing?" This was not what Abigail had expected him to ask! 

Abigail had finally found someone with whom she could discuss her figure, a subject that she had never been able to talk about with anyone. Without, that is, feeling that the other person disapproved of her. Or that she should be ashamed of her figure for some reason. 

And she had found that she liked talking about her figure — she had felt strange thrills run through her as the teacher had studied her. She had seen no disgust. Instead she had thought she had seen interest! Interest in her and in what she had so long been ashamed of! She wanted to explore this further! And he wanted to ask questions about her mother! 

"I am afraid Mother never wanted to talk about such things with me. She felt it would be better if I learned from more qualified instructors at school." 

"As if nuns were the best source of information about such things," the teacher mocked. 

"Yes, I quite agree. As you pointed out, I only learned from my classmates. Are you certain you don't want me to replace my shirt at least?" She hoped he would not say yes! 

"Are you feeling uncomfortable, Abigail?" 

"Not as such, sir. I've never been undressed like this in front of anyone before. I feel a little nervous but not scared or anything. You truly don't think I look disgusting?" As she asked she shifted her weight from one foot to the other which caused her vast bosom to shift gently despite the constraint of her bra cups. The movement did not escape the attention of the teacher. And she saw him watching! Wanting to feel his eyes on her even more she shifted her weight back again with another massive wobble as her breasts rebounded from one another within her bra. His eyes did not lift to hers for a few moments 

"No. I do not. Abigail, you need to learn that there are a wide range of body types that are considered attractive. Your body type happens to be at one extreme end of a spectrum. Nonetheless, there are many people, many men, who would find you attractive." 

As he spoke, Abigail took the moment to adjust her brassiere. Using her right hand she hefted her right breast as her left hand straightened the bra strap, then she repeated this action on the left side. Her hands seemed so small against the vast expanse of the cotton bra cups. 

"Thank you for saying so, sir. But I wonder if you would feel so if you were to see just how large I seem to be when I am not in this restrictive brassiere. I feel sure that you would not find it an attractive sight!" How bold she was becoming, she thought to herself! Abigail hoped to gauge the level and nature of the teacher's interest. 

"Well, I'm not sure..." 

"Please sir, I... well, I've never spoken with anyone about this like this and I would really value your opinion in this matter." She blushed prettily as she looked at the floor in front of her. She was breathing faster now, causing her breasts to lift and fall somewhat in her brassiere. 

"Well, if it would make you feel better..." 

"Oh, thank you, sir!" Abigail reached behind her with both hands as she said this and began struggling with the hook-and-eye fasteners that joined her bra at her spine. Leaning forward as she did so, she exposed more of the tops of her heaving breasts and the shifting, wobbling crevasse of her cleavage. As she twisted her arms and pulled at the clasps her breasts responded by shifting, lifting, subsiding, shaking and quivering with ever increasing activity. Her bra was an extremely substantial one, of course, but even one made of such heavy duty material was unable to completely contain the activity within it. 

The teacher watched with increasing awe as Abigail's gargantuan boobs shook and quivered, the broad points of the bra cups describing ever more complex figures as she struggled with her bra's clasps. Her shoulders thrashed back and forth, her forward lean becoming more pronounced as her struggles continued. Abigail was not unaware of the teacher's increasing focus on her extravagant breasts. She was pleased that he never looked away. In point of fact, she was making it look harder than she had to. Usually, she just pulled the straps and cups down around her waist, spun the clasp around to the front and took it off. 

Finally, gasping a little at the effort, she looked up and asked, "Could you help me with this? It seems to be stuck." Not waiting for an answer she spun to face the other way. 




Abigail



Reaching up with both hands Abigail held her hair up on top of her head and waited for the teacher to undo the clasp. 

The teacher found himself confronted with Abigail's slim back, able to count each rib except where the extremely broad body band covered her rib cage. To each side of her rib cage a swelling crescent moon of bra encased breast was visible inches beyond the width of her body. 

Reaching forward with palsied hands, he quickly undid the seven catches, finding it easier than he thought it would be. As the last catch was released the ends sprang apart and Abigail spun back to face him. 

"Thank you, kind sir," she said with a quick curtsey and a small grin. She had crossed both arms over her chest to keep the bra in place. 

Abigail kept her eyes on his as she leaned forward and gently shook her shoulders to allow both shoulder straps to drop free. His eyes never left her chest as it quavered and shook. She grinned to herself as she confirmed to herself that this man at least was very interested in her gigantic breasts. Perhaps her school chums had misled her after all. 

"You know, you will be the first man to ever see my breasts." Her voice had a new, husky sound to it. 

"All my school chums told me that men like small tits or, maybe, as large as a D cup, like Hillary's were. But you told me your last girlfriend was a Double E. Are there some men that like girls with figures like mine? So much bigger than just a Double E?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye. She thought that she already knew the answer for this man. 

"There are several magazines devoted to the extraordinarily well endowed female figure." He responded. "Score, Gent, Max, Hustler's Busty Beauties...." he ground to a halt, afraid he had revealed too deep a knowledge of this area. 

"Well , that makes me feel real good," she said. She allowed the bra cups to slip down the slopes of her breasts. "If there is that much interest in top heavy women like myself, then maybe my school chums were just jealous as you said. After all, none of them had anything near as large as my breasts!" 

"I hope you like them," she whispered as she allowed the bra to drop unnoticed to the floor. Coyly, she kept her hands and arms over her breasts for a teasing moment. It was as if she was trying to hide two mammoth beach balls. Flesh was everywhere! Despite the fact that her arms covered her nipples and areolae, vast bulges of white breast flesh were squeezed above and below her arms. 

Then, with a quick squeeze, she let her arms fall to her sides and thrust out her chest! 

With a whoosh of released air the teacher collapsed backward against the desk. Never in his life had he imagined... 

Gargantuan boobs shook and trembled just a couple of feet in front of him. For long seconds the titanic breasts bounced and quivered, slowly jellying to a stop. Their owner watched as the teacher slowly regained his composure. There was now a smile of exultation on Abigail's face. She had something special she now knew. Something that few if any other women could match. A pair of incredibly large, extremely firm breasts which had captivated the man in front of her. 

"My...God!" gusted the instructor. 

Now that they had shivered to a stop, rising and falling gently with Abigail's breathing, the instructor could see that the bra had been designed, not to uplift, but to hold her abundance together. Unrestrained as they now were, the outer sweep of Abigail's bosom reached far beyond her shoulders. The tops of these awesome boobs were no longer mounded up and together as they had been in the bra. Instead they were much flatter and stretched from armpit to armpit. The vastly broad upper slopes very gently slanted outward to magnificently pink areolae that could have just been enclosed by the teachers wide open mouth. These were perched about one third of the way down her breasts. Her nipples pointed jauntily up and away from their resting places at a ninety degree angle on a line to each side of the teacher. None the less, such was the colossal volume of the spheres occupying Abigail's chest that a playing card placed in the cleavage of her unfettered breasts would have been firmly held in place. 

The immense lower slopes of her majestic boobs rested firmly just above her navel. Although they had dropped six or eight inches when Abigail removed her brassiere, "I don't usually go with out a bra," she explained. "I find that, as large as my breasts are, they are sometimes in the way. For example..." As she spoke she slowly raised both arms straight up in front of her. Within a few inches her upper arms made contact with the sides of her massive breasts. As she continued to swing her arms up, her breasts bunched together, forced inward by her arms. Her cleavage surged upward toward her chin while both breasts rode upward. Continuing up her arms pushed her breasts closer and closer together. When her arms were almost at right angles to her body her nipples were squeezed so far out that they were closer to her wrists than her elbows. Her cleavage seemed to be several feet deep and over two feet in length. Great masses of breast flesh were compressed above and below her arms which had almost disappeared from sight. Suddenly both breasts dropped free of her still rising arms. As she reached up to remove her head band, her breasts bounced ponderously several times before coming to a rest. 

"You see, I sometimes have to reach around my boobs, they are so large. Does that bother you? That they are so extravagantly oversized?" 

"Not at all. You should not have any shame regarding your body." 

"Thank you for teaching me that. I like to see that look in your eyes. It makes me tingle all over, feeling your eyes on my body. Particularly my breasts!" 

She turned sharply and tossed the headband onto her discarded clothes. Her profile was so dramatic that the instructor's breath was again taken away. Quickly pivoting back Abigail luxuriated in the enraptured gaze of the teacher. With a smile on her face she watched him watch as her breasts once again shivered to a stop on her chest. 

Gently smiling still, Abigail placed a hand on top of each boob and laced her fingers together. Gazing into the teachers eyes she flexed her elbows together. Her breasts immediately surged together and forward in response. Two, three, four times she did this — enjoying the look of entrancement on the instructor's face. When she released her breasts again it took long seconds for their movements to come to a halt. The teacher never took his eyes off Abigail's chest. 

"Oh, sir! I find that I am really enjoying showing myself to you! Is that bad of me?" She wondered aloud. 

As she said this she found herself gently shaking her shoulders, sending her massive balloons into convulsions of movement. Slowly she shifted her weight, bending backwards slightly at the waist, holding her arms slightly out to the sides so that the outer curves of her boobs gently slapped at her upper arms and each other as they rocked back and forth. 

"It feels so good," she squealed. "I love the tingly feeling and knowing that you are watching me! Does it look good to you? Do you like to see shy little Abigail shake her huge titties for you sir? Do you like it as much as I do? Wheeee! Look how they rock and shake, sir!" 

Faster she went, her breasts shaking wildly, the soft slap, slap, slap of her tits seeming to echo in the classroom. 

"It turns me on knowing that you are watching!" 

She stood up straight again and lightly pressed her hands onto the tips of her breasts compressing them slightly against herself and holding them in place. 

"Do you want to see something that the girls at the school told me was really gross? Now I think they were lying about everything. Watch!" she commanded. 

Using just the tips of her index fingers, Abigail very lightly caressed her nipples which had been only slightly erect from the tit play she had indulged in. Within seconds her nipples started to become more erect. Less than a minute later each nipple was larger than the first joint of the finger that was caressing it. 

"The girls always told me my nipples were too large. Do you think so, sir?" 

"Uh, no." The teacher was in shock. One of his students was half naked in front of him. Abigail had been a plain, shy, somewhat mousy young lady. Now she was joyfully exposing to his eyes a set of tits larger than he could have imagined. And she was not shy! If anything she was enjoying showing herself to him as much as he was enjoying watching! She had the most enormous tits! So firm! So incredibly large! He had always been a tit man, the bigger the better. This was phenomenal! 

Abigail was playfully pushing her now fully erect nipples around with her finger tips. Each nipple was thicker and longer than her index finger tip. She pushed them toward each other, away from each other, up and down. She mashed them into her breasts and giggled as they popped right out again! 

"Ohhh, they just feel so good!" she exclaimed. "It makes me feel all warm and tingly inside! Why did I never realize how much pleasure I could get from my big titties? This feels too good to be wrong!" 

Abigail cradled her tits in her arms and hugged them against herself. Her boobs surged up strongly so that she could nestle her face between them. Quickly she gave each a small kiss. Gazing coyly at the instructor she allowed them to drop heavily back down on her chest. Both of them watched as they bounced and shook heavily. 

Gently Abigail ran her hands over the massive swells of her breasts, caressing every inch of rounded, porcelain skinned flesh. Using her finger tip she traced several of the faintly visible blue veins that coursed across her spheres. 

Regretfully, then, she reached for her bra. 

"I have to study this afternoon before dinner. But thank you so much for speaking with me, sir. I have truly learned to appreciate myself in a way that I have never been able to before." 

Sliding both straps up her shoulders, she bent over at the waist and shook her massive breasts into the gigantic cups. Allowing the teacher to watch every move she took care to tuck her overwhelming breasts into their cups and then turning her back to him asked: "Could you do me up again, please?" 

With shaking hands the teacher did as requested. As he finished Abigail turned so quickly that she brushed his hands with the cups of her bra. 

Cooing gently she stepped away from him and slid her arms into her shirt. The tip of her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on matching button to button hole. As when she took it off, she worked from the bottom up. 

She then tucked her shirt in to her skirt, in the process managing to raise the hem of the skirt to several inches above the knees. The shirt was, as before, an extremely tight fit. But this time, Abigail did nothing to de-emphasize the massive shelf her tits made under her shirt. On the contrary, looking down at herself Abigail unbuttoned the top several buttons. And placing her hands firmly on her hips, she inhaled deeply while thrusting her chest forward. The reward for this effort was a noticeably deep and shadowy cleavage. 

Slipping into her blazer Abigail prepared to leave the classroom. She buttoned the middle button on her blazer, which joined together beneath her prodigious bosom and served only to emphasis how large her breasts were. And how far they extended in front of her. 

Moving toward the teacher's desk to retrieve her books, Abigail's hips had a decided side to side rocking motion that was entirely new. And before the instructor could react Abigail had flung her arms around him! 

To his surprise, Abigail was only an inch or so shorter than he was! As she mashed her immensity against his chest, allowing him to feel the hard dig of her aroused nipples even through all their clothing, she planted a kiss on his startled lips. 

As she continued embracing him she twisted her torso from side to side, crushing her massive bosom and erect nipples against him. 

"I want to be sure to thank you for spending so much time with me this afternoon," she whispered into his ear. "I learned ever so much, and I feel so much better about myself!" 

Her tongue darted into his ear, producing a shiver of excitement that rocketed through him. 

She continued to rub herself against him. 

"And next time, sir, maybe you can introduce me to this!" she murmured as she ground her pelvis against his rock hard erection! 

With another flickering tongue in his ear and a quick peck on his cheek she had her books and was at the door. 

"Abigail," he croaked before she could open the door. 

"Sir?" 

You never really told me. What your, um, that is..." he was floundering. When had he lost control of this encounter? 

"My bust measurement, sir?" 

"Yes. Your cup size." 

"Well, when you get to be my size," she grinned down at herself as she gently rocked her shoulders allowing her bra encased breasts to sway ponderously, "when you grow to this extent, cup sizes have no real meaning, I'm afraid. All my bras are custom made, you know. The last time I bought an off-the-shelf bra, I was almost 15. It was, as I recall, an H cup. I have not had a cup size since then, really. But I'll tell you a secret, sir, if you promise not to share it." 

"I promise." 

"Well, if you were to wrap a tape measure around each of my breasts at their fullest..." she demonstrated by tracing a line around her right breast with her right hand. "it would be just about as large as my waist. For each breast!" 

"Good Lord!" was all he could say. The sheer size! Incredible! 

"And my total bust circumference, when I'm braless,sir?" 

"Yes," he breathed. 

"Eighty-three inches!" 

And the door clicked shut behind her. 

End



Abigail



Sara Jean hadn't been waiting long when Kirk the Realtor pulled up in his BMW. The tall, immaculately groomed man practically leapt from the car, walking quickly, hand extended, all the while flashing that toothy, brilliant smile that Sara Jean was sure he practiced for hours at a time each night.

"Sara ...," he purred.

"Sara Jean," she mentally corrected.

"... are you excited?" he asked as he performed the old 'grip and grin'.

Despite her reflexive dislike for him, she was excited. Kirk had hooked her up with a fantastic apartment. The building was old, but all 4 units were newly renovated. Sara Jean would be the first tenant in her unit since the renovation. Kirk stepped past her, pulled out a key ring and unlocked the building's front door. He moved to the side, indicating Sara Jean should step in while he held the door, his whole posture saying he was oh so very gallant.

"Let me explain how this is going to work," he said as he led her upstairs. "All the units are leased. You'll have the the building to yourself for a few days, a week at most. Two of the other tenants will be moving in around that time. The last one should be in around the 1st of next month."

By this point, they'd reached Sara Jean's unit, #4, towards the back of the building. This time, Kirk unlocked the unit's door, which slowly swung open to the living room, brightly sun lit and empty, but full of possibility and the smell of new paint.

"Welcome home," Kirk said as he held up the key ring.

The line was a little too smooth and practiced. Sara Jean couldn't help but smile as she took the keys.

* * *

Those first few days, by herself, were bliss for Sara Jean. At her old place, the neighbors on either side of her unit had been extremely noisy and extremely unconcerned with the consequences of that noise. She luxuriated in the silence.

But nothing lasts forever, and as Kirk had warned, the other renters started moving in 4 days later. First was La Ronda, a tall black girl with a flame red afro who would live directly below Sara Jean. La Ronda favored big, jangly pieces of jewelry and flower print, low cut dresses that showed off her mighty cleavage. She looked like something out of '70's blaxploitation movie. Sara Jean liked her immediately, for her audacity if nothing else. A few hours later came Heather with the smooth, porcelain white skin and frizzy, raven hair, who would have the unit directly next door. Sara Jean was sure she was going to miss the peace and quiet, but after one night it was obvious the other two were as inclined to silence as she was. Sara Jean couldn't believe her luck.

* * *

By the second of the next month, Sara Jean was comfortable enough with her new surroundings that she could unlock the building's front door and make it to the stairs almost fully on autopilot .. .which is why she didn't notice who was going into the remaining, empty unit, #1, only that someone had gone in and closed the door. Sara Jean made a mental note of it, and continued up the stairs.

The door to Heather's unit was wide open, the sound of a TV program spilling into the hall. Sara Jean stopped and looked. She could see the TV, her view partially obscured by the sofa in the middle of the room. No sign of Heather.

Sara Jean poked her head in and knocked on the door frame, "Hello?"

Heather's head appeared over the back of the couch, "Oh, hey!"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, terrific. Just watching some TV. Didn't even know the door was open. Sorry."

She seemed a little breathless, flustered even, "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm sure."

Sara Jean shrugged, "Okay. I'm heading back to my place. Door open or closed?"

"Closed, if you don't mind."

Sara Jean closed the door behind her.

* * *

It began 2 nights later.

Sara Jean wasn't sure what woke her, only that all of a sudden she was awake. Her clock said 3:07a. She rolled over and prepared to drift back off when she heard it, so soft that she wasn't at all sure she'd heard anything at all, and just as she'd convinced herself she was hearing things, she heard it again. Convinced now it was something, she lay very still and held her breath, hoping to figure out where it was coming from.

"ohhhhh."

The breathy moan came from the other side of the bedroom wall. From Heather's bedroom.

Sara Jean thought immediately of how distracted Heather had seemed a couple days earlier, not even aware her apartment door was open and she worried. But after a moment, she picked up on the tempo to the moaning ...

"ooohhh ... ooohhh ... ooohhh."

... and she understood. Sara Jean smiled, partly out of relief and partly out of a vicarious thrill. She rolled over and was quickly back asleep.

* * *

Sara Jean's eyes snapped open and she glanced at the clock. 3:07a. For a long second all was silence, and then ...

"Yes!" the cry punctuated by a bump of a headboard against the shared wall.

Heather was louder tonight. Sara Jean could clearly hear the moans and sighs and gasps and everything Heather coherently spoke to her lover ...

"Yes!"

"Oh God!"

"So good!"

"Fuck yeah!"

... it was accompanied by the bump of the headboard against the wall.

It surprised Sara Jean how it wasn't bothering her, being woken up in the middle of the night two nights in a row. If anything, she was a little envious, and there was no denying it was a little hot to listen to.

Unbidden, her hand traced slow, gentle circles along her tummy before drifting down between her legs, where she was surprisingly moist. The surprise shocked her out of her ease dropping. As hot as it was to listen to, and as understandable as it would be, it was still a little pervie to jill herself off to the sounds of her neighbor's fucking. She curled up, legs pressed tightly together and fell asleep to the scent of her musk on her fingers.

* * *

Sara Jean's eyes snapped open.

3:07a.

This night, there was no waiting or wondering what was happening in Heather's room.

The headboard was crashing against the wall, this night accompanied by the sounds of bed springs working. Heather had abandoned all reserve; every noise she made came clearly through the wall. Every gasp, every moan, every sobbed cry for more.

And Sara Jean abandoned her inhibitions. Automatically, she rolled onto her back and thrust a hand into her bottoms, imagining Heather with her legs high in the air, then wrapped around her lover's hips. After a few strokes, Sara Jean was imagining it was her getting fucked. Her free hand pawed at her tits.

"Faster!" Heather screamed. "Faster!"

Sara Jean's hand felt like a dervish and her thumb ached as she worked her clit. Her back arched now, she was close. She went faster.

"Oh God ... I'm cumming ... yes!" Heather yelled. "Abigail ... yes ... Abigail!"

Heather cut off, as if this Abigail were kissing her, and Sara Jean froze. It was too late. Cutting short the masturbation had blunted her orgasm, but she still had cum. As she lay there, recovering her wits, she couldn't shake off the shame of what she'd done. Heather was fucking a girl and Sara Jean had gotten off on it. She pushed the thought away and fell back asleep.

* * *

It still seemed so confusing in the morning.

What she'd done, playing with herself and getting off on it was completely understandable. Anybody would have done what she'd done because it was utterly hot to listen to. She had no way of knowing, until it was too late, that Heather had been with another girl. It was none of her business if Heather preferred to fuck girls. But still, Heather had been fucking a girl and Sara Jean had gotten off on it. She didn't know what to make of it. She resolved to avoid Heather for a few days.

* * *

Though she'd wake up with a wet pussy each morning, there were no more nocturnal interruptions and Sara Jean was getting a full night's sleep. By Saturday morning, she'd even been able to convince herself that things had returned to normal. Even so, she slept late that morning, late enough that she could go check her mail while her coffee brewed.

She made her way to the building's lobby, still in her pj's. As she approached, she saw La Ronda there, leaning against the wall the mail boxes were built into. The tall black girl was wearing low rise jeans, with a sexy whale tail breaching the line of the jeans, and a tight, midriff bearing t-shirt. Sara Jean assumed she was skimming her mail.

She assumed incorrectly. Because she came up from behind, she couldn't see that La Ronda was talking to someone, or rather, someone was talking to La Ronda The woman was considerably shorter than La Ronda, shorter than Sara Jean even, and Asian with unnaturally black hair. The woman had a bemused, almost arrogant, smirk on her face. Her fingernails were lightly stroking the skin over LaRonda's hip bone. Slowly, the woman turned to examine Sara Jean, and the look on her face went from bemused to predatory. 

"Well, who do we have here?" the woman's voice was deep and musical. "La Ronda, don't be rude. Introduce me to your friend."

Sara Jean turned. La Ronda looked equal parts confused and terrified. When she spoke, her voice fluttered nervously. But between her shallow breathing and the nipples raising massive bumps in her t-shirt, it was impossible for Sara Jean not to notice her friend was wildly aroused.

"This is Sara Jean. She lives in #4. Sara Jean, this is Abigail, she just moved into #1."

Sara Jean flashed back to listening in on Heather, her pussy suddenly wet.

Abigail's smile turned into one of delight, "I'm so glad to FINALLY meet you! But if you'll excuse us, La Ronda and I have something we need to finish. I'll check in on you later, for sure."

Sara Jean turned back to La Ronda, who said, "It's okay, Sara Jean. I'll be alright."

Sara Jean retreated back to her apartment.

* * *

Ultimately, it was morbid curiosity that moved her. She told herself she had errands to run, a life to live. She told herself she was not going to be sent to her room and told to wait by some stranger, no matter how hot she was. Sara Jean started telling herself this, however, only after the sounds started drifting up from La Ronda's apartment, directly below. The noise didn't transmit as well as from Heather's apartment so Sara Jean couldn't tell what was happening down there; only that there were people there.

Though her car was parked out front, she took the back stairs down to the 1st floor, which would take her past LaRonda's unit as she made her way forward. The door to LaRonda's apartment was slightly ajar. Sara Jean had the distinct impression it had been left that way for her. Silently, she pushed the door open.

The floor plan of the 4 apartments were identical; while Heather had placed her couch in the middle of the room, La Ronda had placed hers against the wall, to the right. She was sitting on the sofa, in profile, head thrown back. Feet resting on the coffee table. Her hands mauled her bared breasts, alternately cupping and pulling. Abigail knelt in front of her, fingering herself as she roughly ate out the big woman's snatch.

LaRonda's strong, confident voice was back, "There ... oh, right there ... oh yeah ... oh baby ... you're making my cunt feel soooo good."

For the second time in as many hours, Sara Jean ran back to her apartment.

* * *

Eventually, La Ronda became even more vocal, her orgasmic screams so piercing that Sara Jean turned on her TV to drown out them out. She waited for Abigail to come for her with dread and a sickening knot in her stomach.

Abigail never came. What came instead was fatigue, the waiting and wondering and worrying combining to form a mass of fatigue only sleep would relieve. Sara Jean locked her door, and to make especially sure, jammed a chair under the door knob. It was unusually early or her to go to bed, 9p, but she had just enough energy to collapse onto her mattress.

* * *

She was in a room, impossibly large, she could see no end. She could hear La Ronda calling to her. She ran to the voice.

It didn't feel like she'd run far, but she was moving very fast. Fast enough that she didn't see what she tripped on. Despite her speed, the impact was soft, gentle even. She rolled on to her back. La Ronda was at her feet, towering over her, hands on hips. She was naked, displaying herself for Sara Jean. Her breasts, huge and round, sagged only a little from their weight, nipples hard and swollen, ribs tapering down then flaring wide at her hips, a layer of fat over the belly that made her look lush and womanly, thick, toned legs and calves. At the center of it all was her cunt, wet and puffy, with a trimmed and styled tuft of hair over the slit.

Looking at La Ronda, Sara Jean realized two things: That she wanted this vision in a way unlike anything she'd ever wanted before, which was okay because this was a dream; and that, somehow, she knew this really was what La Ronda looked like naked, which meant this was a dream but it wasn't JUST a dream.

Slowly, La Ronda went to her knees and once there she took Sara Jean's ankles in her hands. Slowly she pushed her hands up Sara Jean's legs, opening them. Sara Jean didn't resist. The stench of her own pussy filled her senses. As LaRonda's hands moved up, she gradually bent forward. The hands were brushing across Sara Jean's thighs now, almost to her pussy, then ducked under and around her legs. LaRonda's arms wrapped around Sara Jean's hips, her fingers peeling Sara Jean's gooey twat open. The black girl lay between Sara Jean's legs. She began to lick.

Sara Jean shuddered when LaRonda's tongue touched her slit, furrowing it's length again and again. Sara Jean whimpered and moaned, both in her dream and in reality. She reached down, grabbing La Ronda by the hair to urge her on. But La Ronda would go no faster, she just worked bottom to top with deliberation, with an occasional nibble or suck for Sara Jean's clit. Sara Jean sobbed with joy and frustration, she begged La Ronda, she thrust her hips, but La Ronda would go no faster.

Instead, La Ronda began to pivot like a second hand on a watch, from 6 to 12. At 8 o'clock, she was humping Sara Jean's shin with that same, slow patience she licked box. At 9 o'clock, she was close enough for Sara Jean to reach out and touch her, feel her smooth, coffee skin all slick and hot and sweaty. She reached for LaRonda's snatch but it was just out of reach. This was no longer a problem at 10 o'clock. Sara Jean caressed La Ronda, utterly amazed by the heat and wet that emanated from there. She slid two fingers in, juice seemed to bubble up and around her hand. La Ronda whimpered, the only sound she'd made, but would lick Sara Jean no faster. Sara Jean pistoned her fingers in and out, hoping that would hasten La Ronda along. It didn't. Sara Jean was nearly insane with want as La Ronda inched past 11 o'clock. She could smell the girl now. She pulled until, at last, La Ronda slung a leg over Sara Jean. A wet, puffy, delectable twat hovered over her now. Sara Jean opened her mouth, her tongue extended. La Ronda settled on to her. Sara Jean began to lick.

* * *

3:07a.

Sara Jean was awake. There was no La Ronda. Weeping with frustration, she jammed a hand into her boxer shorts, but it was no use. The orgasm which seemed so imminent and powerful a moment ago was draining away.

Abigail stood at the foot of the bed, naked.

"Wakey wakey," she laughed, that familiar look of bemusement on her face. "Time to make you mine."

Sara Jean shook her head.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I don't want to," Sara Jean croaked.

Abigail laughed again, "Please! You think I don't know about how you got off listening to Heather and me? You think I don;t know about how you were spying on La Ronda and me? You think I don't know about that hot little 69 with La Ronda you were just dreaming about? You're already mine and it's time you accepted that. Show me the rest!"

It was as if Abigail remotely controlled Sara Jean's body. Automatically, Sara Jean kicked the covers off and rolled onto her back. She still had her hand in her boxers.

Abigail stepped around the bed. She was curvy, with a thin waist and wide hips and round breasts. Her skin was caramel colored, but shiny, smooth and cold looking, like a polished rock. Her hair was long and straight, brushing the top of her areolas and so very black it seemed to both shimmer and absorb what little light there was in the room.

"Now the boxers," Abigail commanded. Sara Jean responded instantly, whipping them off and practically throwing them across the room, leaving her spread legged on the bed.

"Mmmmm," Abigail smiled. "I think I may have saved the best for last."

Sara Jean was lithe and long legged, with smallish, up swept breasts. Her straight blond hair was fanned across the pillow. Her bangs usually gave her an air of sweetness and innocence. But she didn't look particularly sweet or innocent in front of Abigail. Chest heaving and eyes dulled with smokey lust, Sara Jean looked like a girl desperate to get fucked.

"I can't wait to taste you," Abigail eyed the hairless pussy, perfectly smooth, the pink labia like cotton candy She ran her hand along the inside of Sara Jean's thigh.

Suddenly, Abigail was atop her, settling on to Sara Jean. It turned out Abigail's skin wasn't cold at all, it was unnaturally hot., and it set Sara Jean's simmering lust fully a boil Sara Jean's hips began to thrust, seeking out something, anything, long and thick and hard to fill her cunt.

"No, no, no," Abigail whispered, kissing and nuzzling Sara Jean's neck. "No more wretched men for that beautiful cunt of yours."

The desire for penetration vanished instantly, replaced by visions of soft, feminine fingers and tongues. LaRonda's fingers and tongue.

"Poor Heather," Abigail chuckled. "So very pretty and she's nobody's first choice. It makes sense, I suppose,because La Ronda is dying to fuck you."

Sara Jean gasped.

"It's true," Abigail scooted down and gave Sara Jean's nipple a quick bite, "she told me so herself, right after she surrendered to me."

The thought of it made Sara Jean groan.

"And that girl loves to fuck, as you are going to find out, once you give in," Abigail's tongue and lips flitted across Sara Jean's stomach, drifting further and further down.

Abigail lay on her stomach, between Sara Jean's legs. She kissed all around Sara Jean's twat, but never touched it.

"It's time," she finally announced and burrowed her tongue into Sara Jean.

Sara Jean cried out, echoes ricocheting off all the walls of the bedroom. Abigail did her work quickly, driving Sara Jean into a frenzy

With freakish strength, Abigail pushed down on Sara Jean's hips, holding her in place. Sara Jean popped up on her elbows to watch Abigail tongue her into submission. Abigail's head bobbed up and down, each stroke satisfying her like nothing else, finishing with a jolt of ecstasy when Abigail sucked on her clit. It left stars in her eyes.

"It can always be like this," Abigail's voice reverberated in Sara Jean's mind.

"Oh God!" Sara Jean answered.

"All my slaves enjoy this."

"Ohhhh!"

"Any woman you want, anyone you bring to me, she can be yours."

"Huhhhhhh."

"All I require is your obedience and devotion."

"Yes," Sara Jean whimpered. And then with conviction, "Yes!"

"And La Ronda, you want her."

"Yes," Sara Jean wept, "want her ... so much."

"And she wants you."

A rivulet of drool formed in the corner of Sara Jean's mouth.

"She wants to suck your little titties."

The drool rolled down Sara Jean's cheek.

"To feast on your little pussy."

"Please ... please," Sara Jean begged.

"To feel your tongue in her cunt."

"Please!" Sara Jean screeched.

"Give yourself to me."

"Yes!" Sara Jean screamed. Then she screamed again and again until her voice broke, "Yes! Yesssss!"




Abigail



Sara Jean went rigid, every muscle locked. But her pussy fluttered wildly, spraying her free will all over Abigail. Then her body, her mind, her consciousness collapsed. Imploded She was left a senseless, dull husk twitching mindlessly on the bed.

Abigail lifted herself and worked up the girl's passive body. She lingered at the breasts and nipples, which were still erect. She bit one of the nipples hard.

No reaction whatsoever.

Abigail smiled and resumed her travels up the prostrate girl. She sucked Sara Jean's neck and swirled a tongue through the unhearing ear. Abigail lay flush against Sara Jean, who's eyes stared dully at the ceiling. Abigail kissed her, pushing her tongue as deep into Sara Jean as it would go.

Drop by drop, life refilled the empty vessel Sara Jean had become, first a moan, then hands that roamed over Abigail's body, then a feral light that reignited in the eyes. Sara Jean wrapped her legs around Abigail's and spread widely so their pussies could touch.

"You have the most delicious pussy," Abigail said.

Sara Jean pulled Abigail down and found herself in complete agreement.

Abigail pulled away, "Who owns you now?"

"You do," Sara Jean answered immediately. She groped for just the right work, " my ... Queen."

"And what will you do for your Queen?"

Sara Jean's heart skipped a beat, "Lick you, drink from you anything you want."

Abigail smiled and moved forward. Sara Jean slid down until, at last, her Queen's beautiful, perfect delta appeared overhead. At the sight of it, Sara Jean couldn't help but finger her own cunt, which was worthless in comparison.

Just the taste of it was enough to make Sara Jean cum over and over.

* * *

There was once final test of devotion.

Two pieces of furniture adorned the Queen's apartment. One was a chair, a throne. The Queen sat there, and at the foot of the throne, on her knees, was Heather, noisily slurping on the Queen's cunt as she roughly fingered herself.

On the far side of the room, Sara Jean lay on the fuck table, a padded surface raised approximately waist height off the floor. Handles were screwed into the wall just above the padding where the surface met the wall.

Sara Jean gripped those handles, arms extended. Her legs dangled off the table's edge. Gripping the handles allowed Sara Jean to push back as La Ronda fucked her.

The Queen had forbidden Sara Jean from men, but she hadn't forbidden cock. Because the Queen willed it, with a wave of her hand, LaRonda's clit had grown and expanded, sending the black woman into a seizure of bliss as it had done so.

But that was before. La Ronda was pushing her new member, all 11 inches of it, into Sara Jean's greedy snatch over and over. The fucking was so thorough that Sara Jean could make no sound. Slack jawed, her tongue licking her lips to find the last, precious droplets of LaRonda's essence from their earlier pussy eating session, all she could do was grip the handles to help La Ronda impale her.

Heather was the first to be tested. She swore to deliver her sister and best friend to her Queen. Her brain short circuited with lust, she could think of no one else, so instead, she swore to deliver women from off the street, perfect strangers, as many as the Queen desired. Heather passed the test.

La Ronda had no sister to deliver. Instead she offered a cousin and a co-worker of extraordinary beauty. Sensing she was close, La Ronda proposed to bring her Queen to her gym where she could have her pick of any and all the women there. The Queen rifled through LaRonda's mind, appraising the women who exercised there. La Ronda was rewarded with a vision of the shower at the gym and the orgy that would ensue, a dozen women, wet and entangled, licking pussy and pussy being licked. La Ronda had passed the test.

Sara Jean benefited from going last. It gave her time to think of specific women she would betray to prove her devotion. But La Ronda was still fucking her, spurting pussy juice from her magic cock, and making Sara Jean cum again and again, it was so hard to think.

With a deep breath and a superhuman effort, she screamed as La Ronda drew back.

"Kristi," her best friend, a beautiful red head with magnificent breasts.

La Ronda pushed forward and drew back.

"Jenn," the admin at work, a pixieish blond.

La Ronda pushed forward and drew back.

"Maria," the friendly barrista at the coffee shop near her work, so smokey hot.

La Ronda pushed forward and drew back.

And it went on until Sara Jean passed her Queen's test.



Abigail



Author's Note: Welcome to my Halloween Contest entry. Some disclaimers: this is a long story and takes a bit to get to the erotic half of 'erotic horror'. So if you are looking for a short piece or a quick get off, this won't be for you. Content: Story contains allusions to non-consent (but none actually shown) a variety of kinks and graphic violence. During all flashbacks 'Melanie' is 18. Abigail is my favorite character I've created, hope you enjoy her as well. Lovecraft68

Chicago 1995

Melanie was scared. Rudy and his four friends had been playing cards and drinking for the last hour and even in her room she could hear them yelling and carrying on. When Rudy was drunk he liked to fight, then he liked to fuck. 

Rudy's idea of fighting was to slap her around for awhile before he took her hard, sometimes so hard that for the next couple of days she would cry in pain when the johns fucked her. She swallowed, wincing at the taste of the last john who had left just before his friends arrived.

She wanted to go to the bathroom and rinse her mouth out, but was afraid to let Rudy see her. The last time he had a friend over; he made her blow both of them and further humiliated her by making her lick Rudy's cum from the floor. When she had refused he'd hit her in the stomach so hard she thought she was going to die.

Melanie wanted to run, but she had nowhere to go. There was that shelter she kept hearing about from other girls on the street, but what if they found out who she was? They would contact her parents and try to make her go back there.

To the mother that hated her and said she was a lying whore and to the father who did to her what men paid Rudy to be able to do. No, she had to stay, at least she had a place to live and food and some clothes. Yes, Rudy was mean, but occasionally nice and it was safer than just being on the streets.

Her stomach tightened when she heard one of the men say, "Hey, Rudy, where's that freaky looking little piece of tail you're shacking up with?"

"What do you mean freaky looking?" Another voice spoke up, "You hiding pussy on us, man?" The word had come out 'pushy' they were already drunk.

"That bitch looks like Lily fucking Munster." Another laughed, "White as a ghost and her eyes look like fucking marbles."

"She's a little weird looking," Rudy answered, "But, Christ what a fucking body on her, and goddamn can she suck cock." He laughed, "She says she hates doing it, but she's too good at it not to love it."

"I thought it was because you beat her when that john complained she just lays there and it was freaking him out."

"That too!" Rudy said and they all laughed, as if he'd said something hilarious. 

Melanie looked over her shoulder at the window. Rudy had nailed it shut and he would hear it if she broke the glass. She closed her eyes and prayed to a God she'd been told existed they would leave her alone. 

Her father talked of that God, preaching in his church about him while he molested his own daughter, but that didn't mean God was bad just because he was. Maybe he would help her, just this one time, please help.

"I want to see the creepy hot girl." Somene yelled.

"Melanie, get your ass out here!"

She wanted to crawl under the bed and hide, but she knew from painful experience if she hid it would be worse. Maybe he would just show her off a little. She had been sitting in a pair of black panties since the john left. He'd only wanted a blow job, but had her take her dress off so he could play with her tits.

Slipping the plain black sundress on she thought so much for a merciful God. With her heart pounding and her stomach twisting in fear, she left the room.

"There she is!" Rudy smiled drunkenly at her, "C'mon over hot stuff!"

Melanie slowly made her way over to the poker table in the middle of the living room and tried to ignore the four men leering at her.

"Wow, she does look like a reject from the Adams family." A tall black man laughed and she was surprised to see he was wearing a police officer's uniform.

"She does have a pretty nice body though." A red headed man spoke, licking his lips, "Hey, Casper, let me see your tits. "

She shook her head, but Rudy laughed, "Be a good girl Melanie. Show Paul those big tits of yours." When she looked around nervously, his voice softened, "Just a look, that's all. I just want to show off my special girl."

Taking a deep breath, Melanie slid the straps of the dress down her shoulders and pushed the top down. Even though Rudy had been pimping her for several months she felt a wave of helpless shame as she exposed herself.

"Goddamn." The cop whistled, "Look at them, and standing right up there too! How old are you, honey?"

"Just old enough for you to not get twenty years." Rudy laughed.

The other laughed as well as they all lifted their beers in some kind of moronic toast, she pulled her dress up and eased backwards towards her room.

The redhead leaning over said something to Rudy. He shook his head, but the man smiled and reached into his pocket and dropped money on the table.

"Hell yeah." The cop picked up some money from the pile in front of him and tossed it at Rudy.

The others all pushed their poker money at him and with a laugh hr beckoned her to come over to the table. Despite her fear Melanie shuffled forward doing as she always did, exactly what Rudy wanted. Her only choice was to do as he said or do it while in pain.

"That's it, come on over. We're going to play a fun game, Melanie." He smirked, "Ever hear of a merry go round?"

"N...no."

"You get on your knees and we all stand around and you go from cock to cock." They all pushed their chairs away from the table and fumbled with their belts.

"But you don't suck; we fuck your slutty little mouth and the guys whose next holds your head while they do it." He snapped his fingers, "Floor bitch, now."

Melanie stepped closer to the table and as they all stood there grinning and calling her names, she looked past Rudy. The front door was only a few feet behind him. She put her hand on the table and started to kneel, her hand edging towards an empty beer bottle.

"Course I'm first." 

"Hey, we paid!"

"I own the bitch." He unzipped and pulled his already hard cock out, "Let's go Melanie, I'll warm you up."

Melanie grabbed the bottle and straightening, swung it at Rudy's head. He saw it coming, but was too drunk to move fast enough to avoid it. The bottle smashed against the side of his head and shattered. 

He went down, crashing into the table and as Melanie ran forward, one of the men grabbed her arm. She slashed at him with the jagged glass in her hand and he screamed when it sliced into his face.

She dropped the glass and leapt for the door. Her hand closed on the handle and she screamed when someone caught her long hair from behind and yanked her so hard she ended up down on the floor. 

She tried to stand, but was yanked up by her hair, and she cried at the burning pain in her scalp. 

"Fucking cunt!" Rudy shouted as he staggered to his feet while the man who had caught her by her hair shoved her at him.

She fell forward and Rudy slammed his fist into her stomach. She crumpled to the ground, unable to breath, unable to even cry. Rudy pulled her into a sitting position by her hair and slapped her in the mouth.

"Think you're funny you little bitch?" He snarled at her, "I'll show you funny."

He shoved her down onto the floor and grabbing her hands pulled them over her head. He knelt down on them, pinning her there and leaning over yanked the hem of her dress up over her hips. 

"Well," He looked around the room, what are you assholes waiting for?"

Chicago 2015

"Where the hell are they?" Leon peered through the dirty glass window, trying to see the alley below.

"They'll be here," Riggs spoke up from his seat next to one of the two e steel doors in the large room that was once a small machine shop in the now deserted shithole building Jimmy used as a hideout when he didn't want the family to know what he was up to 

"Knowing those pricks they may have sampled the merchandise before they deliver it."

"Merchandise?" Leon shook his head, "Telling you man, this shit is fucked up," He wagged his finger for emphasis, "We ain't even supposed to be doin' this."

"All you need to be 'doin'" A soft voice spoke from the corner of the room. "Is whatever we tell your monkey ass to do."

"You calling me a nigger, bitch?" Leon demanded, turning from the window and striding towards the other side of the room.

"Simply calling a spade a spade," Jimmy 'Matches' Bellino, smirked as he finished carving the words, 'The Devil's Lieutenant" into the small scarred work bench he was sitting next to.

"Funny." Leon, took another step, but stopped when Matches eased his unbuttoned Armani shirt to the side, exposing the butt end of the .45 nestled beneath his arm. "I thought so," Bellino nodded, "You just do what you're paid to and that's watch our backs while we find some snotty little bitches a new home."

"Let it go, Leon," Riggs gestured for him to go back to the window, "Jimmy's in a bad mood. He hasn't tortured anyone in a couple weeks."

"But that will change tonight." Bellino smiled nastily, removing the metal lid of the cheap hibachi in the table to expose a pile of glowing coals. Lifting the wooden handle of a long metal rod, he showed off the glowing red hot metal V. "After all, we get to brand them."

"So we break them, then we burn them?" A voice so deep, it didn't sound real came from the opposite side of the room.

The voice belonged to a man whom he, and pretty much everyone else, only knew as Beast. Riggs felt a chill at the look on his normally vacant face. Beast was a freak, well over six feet and close to three hundred pounds of solid muscle. What was more disturbing than his size was his face. His features were eerily child like; smooth skin, bright wide eyes and half the time his mouth was open and he was staring off into space as if he were retarded. The fact he was bald as a cue ball added to that effect

The only time Beast ever smiled was when someone was screaming, but oddly enough when he spoke he seemed reasonably intelligent and that made him even creepier.

"No, we'll burn them first." Bellino laughed, "That way they're already hurting and screaming."

"They are late." Riggs glanced at his watch. He rose from his chair and paced across the room. 

All night long something felt off and he always trusted his gut. But tonight they had to receive the girls, brand them-Jimmy's sadistic idea- and get them to the buyer. That was all they were supposed to do, but Bellino had once done a three years stretch for rape and that was only because he was charged with one, not the dozens he had committed over the years.

No, he planned on 'softening them up' by gang raping them. His claim was this would make them more cooperative for their buyer. Reality was it fed his sick need to hurt people, women especially, a need only exceeded by his desire to burn things....and people.

The girls would then be brought to the docks, sold to their buyers and put in a shipping container which would be opened on the boat when it left US waters. Odds are they would be used by the slavers, before being cleaned up and sold into a lifetime of prostitution and abuse. 

A life they would maintain until they became so used up they were useless and were killed or maybe they would commit suicide if the slavers didn't keep them drugged enough. Riggs wasn't too keen on this, it wasn't his style. 

Not to mention Leon was right; there was a truce among all the factions in Chicago, no one became involved in the sex slave biz. But they were getting big money for this and if he passed up this run he wouldn't get another. 

Jimmy was right in a way; that stupid ass truce went back twenty years to Marcus Vitelli; a deal he made with some psycho bitch. A Deal Jimmy claimed was a damn excuse to cover up for Vitelli being old fashioned and soft on this kind of shit. He was old school and selling girls into this was 'beneath' the code of the Vitelli family. 

Riggs kind of agreed, it was a pretty shitty thing to do to a bunch of young kids, but money was money and Jimmy was on his way up in the family. The self proclaimed Devil's Lieutenant, 'Matches' was becoming the most feared man in the streets, even more than his older brother Donnie Even Donnie didn't know they were here, Jimmy had set this up on his own. It was risky, Johnny Vitelli was a soft punk, but his father was still in the game and didn't appreciate being disobeyed, but if they pulled this off tonight, then a few more times, Jimmy was going to go to them with the money.

He wanted to show them what they were missing and how much they could make and how Jimmy should be moved up in the ranks. He promised to take anyone who helped him up with him and Riggs would love to get off the streets and make some real money. 

Besides, what the hell, it's not like these bitches were anyone to him and it could be fun getting a little reluctant pussy. Riggs glanced out the other window in the room that overlooked the abandoned parking lot of the building.

The industrial park itself was dark, even the few businesses that were still operating in this part of Chicago were closed now. He didn't see any headlights approaching and again the uneasy feeling in his stomach returned. 

He pressed his right arm inward and took comfort in the feeling of his own piece, a Glock 18 semi automatic. 

"Where the hell are they?" He asked, "For real, they're late." "They're pounding the pussy." Beast giggled, causing Riggs to step further away from him. "Pounding, pounding." 

"Fucking tard." Leon muttered, looking at Riggs. The two had worked together many times and he knew Leon was leery of this kind of deal as well; a lot could go wrong, especially since they were doing this with only Jimmy's little gang, not the full power of the family. Rolling his eyes, Bellino placed the brand back into the coals and replaced the lid. Pulling out his cell, he punched Matt's number.

"Yeah, Matches?" 

"You guys in position?"

"Yeah, were at the other end of the hall, only one way up is to us. You heard from Rossi?"

"No." Bellino sighed, "Prick and the gooks he made the deal with are probably shagging the sluts before he brings them here."

"Then he loses part of his cut, deal is they're untouched until we get them."

"No shit, we all know the first squeal is the most precious."

"You going to save me and the boys some?"

"When we're done you can take a turn. If they're still fighting we didn't do our job right." He laughed, "Life is good."

"Until we get to hell anyway." Matt replied.

"Speak for yourself, when I get there, the fucking devil's going to make me a damn lieutenant just like I am here."

"Right and....wait." Matt went silent for a moment and Bellino snapped his fingers, getting the others attention. "The van's pulling in now, don't see anyone behind them."

"Good." He made the okay sign to the others. "Check the girls out, they look clean and pretty you give those yo-yo's their money and let the two of them come to me so I can lay eyes on them in case I ever need to find them.

"Got it. Remember when you're done with your little welcome to hell session go down the other stairway on your way out. We'll have our transport down there. The buyers will be at the boat at eleven, you got two hours, don't fuck up their faces."

"I know the drill Matt, don't forget who I am."

"Yeah well don't forget who doesn't know about this and I don't want this fucked up. It will be all our asses, even yours."

"I'm untouchable. I'm a Bellino; we helped make Vitelli who he is."

"Whatever, just play by the rules for once."

Bellino shoved the cell back in his pocket, "Fun time in a few minutes, boys."

"You know Matches," Riggs said, "We're not supposed to touch these girls either, thought they wanted them as unused as possible."

"Yeah well this is our game and we need some fun to." He smiled, "Besides there's been no trafficking out of this port in a decade, these clowns are just happy to be able to start getting things moving again."

"Hey..." Leon said from the window.

"What?" Riggs turned to him.

"I thought I just saw something move on the fire escape down there." 

"Kill the lights." Bellino said.

Riggs hit the switch then joined Leon at the window. They peered into the night and Riggs shook his head, I don't see....holy shit!" He exclaimed as something struck the window.

He staggered back, his hand blurring for his gun, then stopped when Leon swore, "Christ, it's a fucking bird!"

Riggs stepped back to the window and saw a large black bird perched on the railing of the fire escape. "That a crow?"

"Don't know, but its big black and ugly." Leon laughed, "Like you."

There was some commotion in the hallway and Riggs heard a young girl crying.

"Shut up, bitch." There was the sound of a hard slap and a cry of pain.

"That better not have been her face." Bellino said, "We can't mark them up except for our brand, just fuck the shit out of them." There was a knock on the door and flipping the lights back on, Riggs walked over grabbed the handle of the heavy industrial door and opened it towards him, staying behind it. Leon had his hand on the butt of the thirty eight tucked into his jeans, but released it.

"Oh, God please don't hurt me!" A blonde girl squealed as she was shoved roughly into the room.

Her hands were cuffed behind her and she fell to the floor at the feet of the Beast.

"Hello little girl," He smiled down at her. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass."

The girl screamed and Bellino laughed from the table. "Oh, this is really what life is all about."

Three more girls were pushed into the room by two heavily tattooed Asian men. Leon quickly grabbed two of them by their arms and pulling them over to the corner next to Bellino, pushed them down onto the floor. "Stay there and don't move or we'll start breaking bones."

The fourth girl turned and tried to run, but Riggs grabbed her by her long red hair and yanked her into him.

"Please!" She moaned as she looked up at him. Christ, she was young.

"Sorry, kid." He said, "You were in a bad place at the wrong time." He quickly pushed her over to Leon so he wouldn't have to look at the terror in her eyes.

Leon practically threw her into the corner and standing Bellino pointed at the two Asian men, "We have it from here, go back the way you came."

"We can have more next week, will you be buying?"

"Not sure," Riggs started, but Bellino cut him off. 

"Damn straight we are. You bring as many as you can get. If they're clean and," He licked his lips, "Sweet looking, we'll buy as many as you have."

"Very good." The man smiled, and then leered at the girls. "They look nice and fresh."

"Not for long." Leon licked his lips, "Now that I see them, this ain't such a bad idea after all."

"Don't hurt us!" A slender brunette whimpered, "We...we didn't do anything wrong."

"Life's not fair sweetie." Bellino said, standing over where they cowered in the corner. "But hey, if you can learn how to like sucking cock and getting fucked in the ass, life might not be so bad."

He paused as two of them began sobbing. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sweetest sound in the world, fear. 

"But see we're going to help you out." He smiled, "Isn't that right boys?"

"Oh, I am so ready to help." Leon unzipped his jeans.

"What about us?" One of the newcomers asked, "We did the work, took the risk." "Hell, as a gesture of good faith, I'll let you have a turn." Bellino laughed, "I am in a great fucking mood!" He clapped his hands, "This is it boys, tonight we celebrate the Vitelli family getting back in the game."




Abigail



He looked back at the girls, "See that, they're going to help you too."

The girls huddled closer together; their backs against the wall and Bellino leered down at them. "Know how we're going to help? We're going to give you a taste of what you'll be getting for the rest of your miserable lives." 

"That's right you little sluts, we're going to shank you're pink asses and make you squeal like pigs."

"I hate squealing...so we'll have to have something in their mouths too." Leon added.

"Six of us and four pretty little cunts." Bellino smiled, "But other holes too. Hey Beast, show them what you have for them."

Beast grinned like a goon and stepping over next to Bellino un snapped his pants and pulled out the biggest cock Riggs had ever seen, fucking thing looked like a damn babies arm. One of the girls screamed and the blonde fainted.

"I want the one with the red hair." Beast giggled, "First anyway."

"Fine, tell you what, you get their pants off, but remember before we start, we have to mark our property." 

Bellino reached over and with a flourish whipped out the brand, showing the girls the glowing end of it. "Brand you little pigs like...well like pigs!"

There was another round of screams and Riggs lowered his head, he hadn't expected the girls to be this young, maybe he would hang back.

"Nooo!" One of the girls cried and he looked back up to see Beast had grabbed her skirt and ripped it off of her. 

She was wearing a pair of plain pink panties and Riggs grimaced at the spreading wet stain.

"Fucking cunt pissed herself." Bellino grunted, "You get the brand first bitch."

"That's okay, I want her ass anyway." Beast shook his huge cock at her.

"I..." Leon stopped at the sound of tapping behind him. "What the fuck is that?"

Riggs turned and even Bellino paused as he had begin to lean over the girl as Beast held her down with one massive hand on her chest.

The tapping came again and Leon moved back over to the window, "Must be that fucking bird."

One of the Asians walked past Riggs over to the girls, but the other made his way to the window, his hand behind his back, clutching the handle of the pistol holstered in his jeans.

"You guys play with the bird." Bellino waved his hand, and then slowly passed the hot brand over the red heads face, smiling at the terror in her eyes and the way she whimpered. His cock was swelling between his legs. God, the branding would be better than the sex.

Behind him, Leon put his face against the glass then cried out as the window exploded inward.

"Holy shit!" Leon cried, staggering back. There was a loud screech and something big and black exploded into the room.

"It's a fucking b....: the Asian near Leon began then screamed in pain as the crow flashed past his face, leaving three long bloody scratches in its wake. 

The crow streaked towards Riggs who dove onto the floor. He felt the birds talons rip through his hair and a burning pain seared across his scalp. As he rolled over he felt blood running down the sides of his face.

"Mother fucker." He hissed whipping, his Glock from its holster and bringing it up to shoot the crow as it flew along the wall and straight at Bellino. 

With a startled cry, Bellino fell onto his back, whipping the brand at the crow which had veered to the side. Riggs's finger twitched on the trigger but he stopped when the bird flew straight at Beast and a miss would hit him.

Beast swung his massive arm at the crow, then screamed when it dipped low and stuck him beneath his stomach. When it spun away from him, Riggs saw his cock was dripping blood. Beast staggered back, clutching his bleeding cock and shoving it back into his jeans.

The crow made a beeline towards the window and Riggs tracked it with the gun, but stopped when the damn bird was now in front of Leon.

"I got you, you fucker." Leon had his thirty eight out, aiming for the bird. Leon pulled the trigger, but the shot went wild, slamming into the ceiling and causing a shower of plaster. A black, leather clad arm had come through the window, wrapping around his neck.

He cried out while being pulled partway out the window, but it was cut off by a gruesome cracking noise. Leon's legs went limp then his body exploded into the room, thrown by whoever had attacked him and striking the gang member rushing towards the window. 

He went down under the weight of Leon's body and his counterpart, recovering from his surprise pointed his gun at the window then staggered back as the room was filled with a loud roar. 

Riggs had been approaching the window, but flinched back when the Asian's head exploded, showering him with blood and some sticky chunks of what was left of his brain.

A huge figure jumped into the room and for a moment everything froze and Riggs took in the scene before him. The man was huge, easily the size of Beast and as black as his leather trench coat. 

His long hair was braided and caught up in the clarity that extreme situations brought on; Riggs noticed there were bones and feathers strung throughout the braid.

The second Asian had shoved Leon's corpse off of him and sprang to his feet, ripping a pistol from beneath his short jacket. Their assailant had already swung towards him and Riggs caught sight of the sawed off shotgun the man was holding in one of his massive hands as if it were simply a pistol.

Both barrels erupted and so did the Asians chest as the close range impact sent his body flying backwards to crash into Bellino who had been going for his own gun. Riggs squeezed off two quick shots, the first missed the mark shattering the top of the window behind him.

The second shot struck their attacker high up on the left shoulder. He grunted in pain, but barely staggered as a gout of blood erupted from the wound.

"Ow." He said simply before pointing the shotgun at Riggs.

His shot went wild as leaping at him from the side; Beast crashed into him and sent the gun flying. Riggs cried out as the shells slammed into the wall behind him and he was struck by pieces of wood and drywall.

He brought the Glock back up, but hesitated when he saw Beast had gained his feet and hauled the man off the ground while dealing him a vicious blow to the side of the head.

"I want that fucker alive!" Bellino cried out, getting to his feet.

Beast laughed and hit the man in the stomach, following with an uppercut that stood him up. He swung again, but the man got his forearm up to block it, he grabbed Beast's wrist, hit him in the stomach and when he doubled over, brought his knee up into his face.

There was a loud crack and still seeing the action in the slow motion of shock, Riggs saw the blood spurt from Beast's ruined nose.

The man backhanded him in the face and moving much faster than his size belied, went into a spin kick, his booted foot catching Beast in the side of the head and sending him flying.

Bellino fired from, but again moving with uncanny speed, the giant kept spinning, pulling his jacket off as he did and throwing it at Bellino who shot through it before it landed over his face. 

Spinning into a crouch and seemingly unconcerned as Riggs shot sailed over his head by mere inches; he smoothly produced a pistol from beneath his arm, taking aim at Riggs. The door slammed open behind him and he heard Matt's voice, "What the fuck is..." 

His words were drowned out by the barking of the man's gun and Riggs saw a trail of bright red blood spray past him. 

He rolled over and away from the door to see Matt slumped against the wall clutching his throat, his feet kicking as his ruptured artery pumped his life out onto the floor. 

The gun fired again and again and Riggs heard screams of pain from the hallway.

"Little help!" The man bellowed. Beneath the jacket, he was clad in a leather vest, his thickly muscled arms covered with tattoos of skulls and strange symbols. Ruine, Riggs thought, he was one of those voodoo freaks that sold drugs on the south side.

Instantly another man who looked as if he could be the first one' brother, right down to the bone decorated braids, leapt into the room and Riggs stomach sank when he saw this one had an AR-15 rifle cradled in his well muscled arm.

He swung the rifle towards the hallway and let loose with a stream of bullets. Riggs heard a cry of pain, but mostly the sounds of shattering wood as their remaining men took cover in the hallway. 

Taking two long steps forward, the second attacker, kicked the metal door, slamming it shut and sliding the metal bolt through it, then swung around, aiming at Bellino

"Drop it motherfucker!" He yelled in a deep voice featuring a heavy accent. 

Bellino looked as if he were going to fire, but dropped the gun and fell to his knees when the second man fired a burst of bullets just over his head. 

Proving he really did have something wrong in his head, Beast surged to his feet and charged at the first assailant, who swung around to face him, ready to shoot him at point blank range.

Figuring he could kill him, and then force the other to decide between him or Bellino, Riggs took aim then screamed when something hurtled into his arm and a hot pain laced across his hand.

He dropped the gun and saw the crow turn in a tight circle and head straight at him, its talon's extended and beak open, releasing a screech that turned his blood into ice.

Riggs saw a flash as something below it caught the light as it hurtled towards him. The fucking thing had some type of razors attached to its damn feet!

He threw his arms up and cried out as the bird's metal tipped talons, raked his forearms. Blood flowed down his arms but that pain was forgotten when over the birds screeching he heard a gunshot and something with the power of a freight train slammed into his stomach. 

A white hot pain burned through his gut and he slumped against the wall, his hands going to the bleeding hole in his stomach. 

The bird had swung away from him and was now streaking towards Bellino who to his credit showed no fear, his lip curling into a snarl of rage as he bird hurtled towards him.

"Not him!" The one with the rifle bellowed, "She wants him!" 

The bird flashed over Bellino and landed on the floor in front of the girls. It spread its wings and screeched and Riggs swore it looked as if it were protecting the girls who were sobbing and screaming at the mayhem around them.

There was a loud crash and despite his pain, Riggs followed the sound to see Beast had slammed into the bigger one again and had grabbed his gun hand, slamming it into the wall causing him to drop the pistol.

The one with the rifle glanced that way, but quickly shifted his gaze back to Bellino who had begun to reach for his pistol. 

"For Christ's sake, Seth, can't you finish anything?" He asked, with a smirk as if this were funny. 

Beast was screaming mindlessly and had wrapped both hands around the big one's throat. Moving calmly, he jammed his forearms between Beast's and swung outwards while driving his head forward.

His forehead smashed into Beast's face with a sickening crunch and breaking his grip, the man grabbed his wrist and swung his arm up under his elbow.

Beast screamed in agony as his arm snapped backwards and even as dazed as he was, Riggs could see the splinters of bone protruding from his ruined elbow.

"Shut the fuck up." Seth hissed, and grabbing Beast by the back of the neck smashed his face into the wall. He pulled him back and did it again, then again, leaving smears of blood-and worse-on the ruined wood of the wall.

He slammed Beasts head repeatedly and Riggs whimpered in fear at the wet squishing sounds from what was left of it. He let him fall to the floor and stared down as Beast's feet drummed on the floor.

Placing his booted foot on his neck, Seth twisted his hip and Beast's body went limp as his neck was snapped. 

"Just like a roach." He said, then flinched and jumped to the side as several bullets smashed into the metal door.

"You won't get out of here alive you fucking niggers!" Bellino yelled.

"We're Haitian Creole, thank you very much." The one with the rifle said, still with that sick smile on his face. 

"You're Ruine's dog's aren't you?" Bellino asked, breathing hard, naked rage on his face, "You motherfuckers off your leash? There's a fucking truce and this is..."

"Seems you're breaking a truce yourself fool and Ruine is trash." Seth said calmly even as several more bullets struck the door, denting the steel. "Sells drugs to kids and whore's little girls. He's a coward, like you."

"Go, fuck..." Bellino's words were cut off, by Seth striding forward and dealing him a back handed blow that sent blood flying from his mouth and knocked him to the floor.

Seth grabbed him by the collar and lifting him to his feet as if he were weightless, threw him into the chair next to the table. Bellino's head hit the wall hard and when it fell to the side, his dazed eyes focused on Riggs.

He looked as if he were going to speak and Riggs risked shaking his head and moving his right hand towards his Glock where it lie next to his leg. He couldn't feel that leg, or the other and the pain in his stomach was fading which wasn't a good sign. 

He'd seen enough people shot to know he was going into shock, but if he could hold on a little longer and if they both turned away from him...

Seth stepped up to Bellino and placed his booted foot on his chest, pointing his gun in his face.

"You sit tight you sick prick, someone special wants to talk to you."

There was a loud crash against the door and it rattled on its hinges. Riggs saw the metal bar bend slightly. Oh, God please...

"Julian, let's get the ladies out of here," He gestured towards the other steel door.

Bellino grinned through his bloody lips and Seth returned it, "Don't get happy, scumbag, we took your boys out back first." Reaching inside his vest he dropped something on Bellino's chest.

His eyes widened and Riggs forced his swimming vision to focus and suppressed a groan at the sight of three bloody ears on Bellino's white t-shirt.

"Easy ladies." Julian had slung the rifle over his shoulder by its strap and kneeling down, removed a small set of keys. 

"Going to get these off you and you're going with us." He gave a reassuring smile as one of them sobbed loudly, "Shhh, we're going to get you all home, okay?"

"Real fucking brave." Seth said to Bellino, punctuating each word by hitting him in the side of the face with the pistol. "Little fucking girls, that all you can handle?"

"You'll see what I can handle." Bellino said, staring defiantly even as his left eyes was rapidly swelling, "You might walk out of here, but I'll find you. You assholes don't know who I am."

"Who you were sounds better."

"I...I had an accident," The redhead who had pissed herself whimpered while she stood and tried to cover her wet panties with her hands.

"It's okay, little one." Seth spoke while still staring down at Bellino, "Happens to Julian all the time."

"Think this is funny?" Bellino sneered, "You won't be laughing when..." He stopped when Seth placed the muzzle of the gun against his chin.

"I think it's hilarious." He told him. "Goddamn funny to see what a pussy you and your crew are."

He looked over quickly at Julian who had slipped his short leather jacket off and tied it around the girl's waist to cover her. "There you go. Now slide those dirty things off." He smirked, "I'm sure we could find a use for them, right Seth?" 

She nodded nervously and leaning over, Julian gave the last girl, a blonde who was slumped against the wall a light tap in the face, then with a frown, he slid his arm under her and slung her over his shoulder, his arm around her legs. The gun was on the other shoulder and there was no way he would be able to go for it.

"They hurt her?" Seth pushed the gun harder into Bellino's face.

"S...she passed out." The dark haired girl spoke up.

"You sure?" Seth asked her, without removing his eyes from Bellino, "I can't kill him, but I can fuck him up pretty bad, long as he has ears to hear her, she won't care."

"Listen." Bellino said slowly, trying to keep the rage from his voice, "I have more money than whoever the hell is paying you. You let me go and..."

"This isn't about fucking money. This is about loyalty and people who keep their word and..." He leaned closer to Bellino, 

"Let me tell you something scumbag and I tell you this only because you're not going to be around much longer to repeat it. Long time ago my little sister was kidnapped, gang raped and killed." 

He gave Bellino a right hook to his jaw and Riggs saw a pair of teeth explode from his mouth and skip along the floor.

"When it comes to little girls its personal and filth like you can't buy your way out of it."

Riggs hand began the painfully slow crawl towards the gun as Seth continued speaking and Julian was trying to get the girls over to the other door.

Bellino spit a thick glob of blood in Seth's face, "You know who I am? You don't let me fucking go you'll..."

"You're Donnie Bellino's sick, cowardly little brother. Little chicken shit firebug and rapist." 

Seth smiled as he calmly wiped the blood from his cheek, "I wish I could see your face when she gets here."

"Who the fuck is she?"

"You'll see." The smile faded from his face. "But not for long."

"Let me go, asshole," Bellino demanded and even in his fog, Riggs wondered if he were really that ballsy or was trying to cover up being scared shitless. 

"We are letting you go. We're walking out that door and you'll never see us again." He laughed, "Won't see anyone again, but I'm not the one you need to deal with."

"Let's go." Julian yanked the other metal door open, putting his free arm around one of the girl's shoulders he eased her through it. "Go ahead, girls I'll be behind you."

The other girl darted past Julian into the hallway, but the second cried out as she tripped over Beast's leg. Julian caught her and held her up so she wouldn't fall. Both his arms were occupied and Seth had turned at the sound of the girl's cry.

Riggs went for the gun as fast as he could, but not fast enough. Appearing from his right the crow flashed across his vision and with a loud screech picked the pistol up in its talons. Riggs looked up and saw Seth smiling at him, his forearm planted in Bellino's throat to keep him still.

"Should have stayed playing dead." 

The last thing Riggs saw before the muzzle flash that ended his life was the crow dropping the gun and landing on the Seth's shoulder.

*****

"Easy girls." Seth said soothingly while guiding them down the hallway, keeping them before him. 

Julian was trailing behind him, watching their backs while they hurried to make their way down to Oscar and Paul who were waiting with the van. 

He'd cuffed Bellino to the chair and shoved the girl's soiled panties in his mouth, but as soon as the room went silent the others would take a chance and break into it and let him go. 

Even though they were armed and had killed most of his men, Bellino was a mad dog and now out of his mind with rage. He would go after them.

"You won't hurt us, right?" The tall brunette asked, looking back at him, her tear filled eyes wide.

"Of course not, my lady." He gave her a huge smile, "I'm one of the good guys, can't you tell?"

"No." She said, a serious look on her face, "You're pretty scary."

"And ugly." Julian said from behind them and Seth smiled when the redhead and one of the other girls laughed nervously.

The smile faded when he heard someone yelling and a bang from behind them. Julian had jammed a piece of wood into the door and they had both slammed their shoulders into it to wedge it, but it wouldn't hold long.

"Run." He pushed the redhead in the back.




Abigail



He remained walking quickly, looking over his shoulder, Julia, his sawed off, named after his departed sister, cradled in his arm. Julian was walking backwards, pointing the rifle at the door at the far end of the hallway. 

The lights had been turned on which bothered him, it gave no cover if they got through the door, but it was how she wanted it. His mistress wanted Bellino to see her coming and although not wise, it was equally unwise to ever question her.

He murmured a thank you to every Orisha he could remember from his meme's stories as the corner neared and the door behind them still held.

He stopped short when one of the girls screamed and he swung around the corner, shotgun ready. He lowered it when he saw the tall cloaked figure standing in the darkness. The lights were off at this part of the hallway and one of the girls had almost run into the shadowy figure.

"It's okay, sweet girl." A woman's smoky voice spoke softly, "I'm a friend."

A bone white hand with long black nails slipped from the billowing arm of the robe and lightly touched the brunette's cheek. Each finger had small runes tattooed on them, and Seth felt his tension ease, the men behind them had guns, but the woman he served had powers that far surpassed bullets.

"You...you sure?"

"Positive," There was a small laugh from the darkness. "I'm a very good friend, the friend that will help you see your family again."

"But those men...." One of the girls whimpered, "They're behind us!"

"Those men will be dead soon." The voice said matter of factly. "What's your name?"

"Samantha."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. How old are you, Samantha?"

"I...I'm sixteen."

"Sixteen." The voice now had a hard edge to it. "And the rest of you?"

"We're all sixteen, I'm Sarah," The redhead said, "That's Mary, my sister," She pointed at the blonde girl Seth had given a smelling salt to once they'd gotten into the hallway. It woke her up, but she was in shock and didn't look like she knew where she was. 

"I'm Mandy," The last girl spoke, pushing her sandy brown here from her face.

"I see." Seth had heard that tone before and knew that the men he and his cousin, Julian had killed had gotten off easy.

"You girls take each other's hands and stay between Seth and Julian, they will take you somewhere safe."

"Let's move." Julian came around the corner, "That wood just popped out of the door."

He moved past Seth and prodding the girls along moved them further into the darkness towards the staircase.

"Take them to the Flame," The smoky voice said from beneath the cowl, "These girls were taken from a high school dance; they have family, contact them and make sure they are delivered safely."

"I'll stay with you." Seth said, "The others are down there in the van, they can handle anyone that might show up."

"No, you'll go." She reached out, laying her white hand on his dark skin. 

Seth winced as her fingers caressed the flesh wound where the bullet had grazed him. 

"Sixteen, Seth." She whispered, "Children and how many were going to take them?"

"We killed six in the room Julian said he got two in the corridor. He thinks there's three more plus Bellino." He laughed humorlessly. "The Devil's Lieutenant."

"Then put on a boat for a lifetime of that." She spoke slowly and Seth saw the air shimmer between them. He broke out in a sweat from the heat emanating from her.

"I will put down Vitelli's dog." She rubbed her hand back and forth on the wound and Seth grunted at a burning sensation where she touched. "You protect the girls. I will make my way back to the club."

"But A..." He stopped when she placed a long slender finger to his lips.

"Go my loyal watch dog, it's time for the lowlife behind you to learn who has the true power in this city. Balthazar!" She called out.

There was a loud caw behind him and a moment later the crow sailed over his head to perch on her shoulder.

"Go, Seth," She removed her hand from his shoulder, "Know that when I make him sing, his song will not only be for those four girls, but for Julia as well."

"Thank you." 

He took her hand and kissed it, then moved quickly down the hallway towards the small beam of Julian's flashlight moving along the staircase in front of him. 

Seth reached up and scratched at a sudden itch on his shoulder. He felt around with his fingers, and then stared wide eyed at the smooth dark skin there. The bullet wound was gone.

*****

Jimmy Bellino yelled through the urine soaked panties and kicked his feet ineffectually against the chair. The room had been quiet for over a minute, why the hell hadn't those fucking asshole kicked the door in yet?

As if the thought had summoned them, there were three huge thuds against the door, the fourth one caused the metal plate to splinter from the wooden wall and the second the door flew open several shots fired into the room, blasting holes in the opposite walls.

A man all in black rolled into the room on the floor and came up with his pistol scanning the room. He stopped when he saw Jimmy and leaping to his feet ran over to him. He had no sooner pulled the panties from his mouth when Jimmy yelled,

"Get me the fuck out of these cuffs and let's get those fuckers!"

Two other men strode into the room, the second of which was Marco, carrying his modified Mac 10 machine pistol and slipping a magazine into it as he entered.

"Jesus, fucking Christ, Jimmy!" He exclaimed, taking in the carnage in the room, "How many of those fuckers were there?"

"Two." He answered, "Hurry the fuck up!" 

He snapped at the man fumbling with his cuffs. The big one, Seth, had left the keys right on his lap and it occurred to him they might want him to follow them, but he was going to do it anyway. There were only two of them and now they had the girls stumbling around with them.

"Two fucking guys did this?" And that?" He pointed at Bellino's face, "Smacked you around pretty good tough guy."

"Shut the fuck up and get that fucking door open!" He leaped from the chair as soon as the cuffs were off and grabbed his Heckler and Koch .45 from the floor.

Slipping it back into its holster, he picked up the brand and shoved it back into the still smoking coals; he was going to use it on those niggers, after he shot them in their kneecaps.

The guy who had removed the cuffs, Bellino had no idea what his name was, went over to the door and threw his shoulder into it.

The other man with Marco holstered his gun as well and joined the other, slamming into the door, which moved forward an inch or two but still held. 

"Hurry the fuck up!"

"Jimmy, chill out, you going to charge into that damn hallway? Mother fucker had a damn assault rifle."

"They were here for the girls; they're trying to get them out of here. They've only got a minute on us and its five floors down and one of those little cunts has to be carried."

"That the one whose panties you were eating?" Marco laughed, then grunted when Bellino slapped him in the face. 

"Think this is fucking funny? We got how many dead guys and...fuck, the old man's going to hear about this for sure so we better get those fuckers!"

"Yeah, fine, Jimmy." Marco wiped the blood from his lips.

"Tell the others to get in here!"

"It's just us, that fucking spook shot down two of my best guys."

"Its moving!" One of the men called out as they repeatedly slammed their bodies into the door.

"We get in there, we move fast, we'll catch them on the stairs."

Jimmy crouched down under the table and pulling out a small black case, threw it on the table and opened it. He picked up the sleek black pistol which was a modified pellet gun. 

There was a squeeze bulb behind the trigger that would send a thin stream of lighter fluid from beneath the barrel. 

The gun itself was loaded with caps causing a spark which turned the gun into a miniature handmade flamethrower. Turning, he pulled the trigger and smiled at the small jet of flame which caught the panties, turning them into a ball of fire.

"Burn, baby, burn." 

He laughed through the pain in his swollen lips and jaw. His left eye was swollen shut, but the adrenalin rush of revenge and his love of fire had him feeling just fine. He was going to roast those bastards alive and make those little bitches watch, then take his excitement out on them.

Marco stomped on the burning underwear and strode over to the door, pistol at the ready. The two men stepped back and in unison kicked the door. It swung inward exposing the lit hallway which was empty.

"All those rooms are locked; they had to go for the stairs." One of the men said, drawing his gun.

The two of them took a few steps into the hallway with Marco and Bellino behind them.

"What the hell are we going to tell the old man?"

"Let Donnie handle it. We'll make up a reason for being here and say those fuckers jumped us. Tell him Ruine broke truce."

"They his?"

"Looked like his, fucking big and black and looked like they could be into that voodoo shit."

"Whoa, what the fuck?" One of the men ahead called out.

Bellino looked down the hallway and saw two of the overhead lights explode. Sparks showered down to the floor and that part of the corridor plunged into darkness.

"They're shooting out the lights." One of men in front whispered.

"I didn't hear any..." Marco trailed off when two more bulbs blew out.

The men in front each moved to one side of the hall and going into a crouch, aimed their pistols at the encroaching darkness.

"Something's moving." Mario said softly.

"Let's just fucking shoot." 

"Stand down, Willie." Marco spoke, easing back a step. "You and Jake wait until I say so, let's see what the game is, they would have shot at us by now."

Another bank of lights exploded, then another. The darkness was more than halfway towards them and Bellino stroked the barrel of his gun as if it were his cock, a smile on his face. If they wanted to play he would be happy to show them who was going to win this game.

More sparks and this time Bellino made out movement just past the shadows. When the next set of lights blew out. There was silence, but there was something shuffling around, low to the floor.

"They're crawling!" Jake yelled.

"Now!" Mario barked and each man squeezed off several shots.

There was the sound of splintering wood, but Bellino frowned at the sight of three small balls of flame, accompanied by a popping sound as if the bullets had gone off without hitting anything. They waited and Mario raised his gun as a shape emerged from the shadows.

"What the hell?" Jake asked at the sight of the crow which had hopped into the light.

The crow screeched at them and spread its wings as if challenging them.

"Bye bye birdie." Marco laughed and squeezed the trigger, sending a short burst of bullets at the crow.

The bird didn't move and squawked, flapping its wings and hopping around excitedly as each round exploded before reaching it. Bellino narrowed his good eye, refusing to believe what he had just seen and noticed the air was shimmering in front of them.

His nickname of matches was well earned. In his day Bellino had set over three dozen fires, never mind the half dozen people he had burned alive. He knew heat when he saw it. But where the hell was the fire?

The bird shrieked again and without being told Willie and Jake both fired at it. More small pops and the crow made a noise Bellino swore sounded like a laugh. 

"Want to play with fire?" He raised the gun, preparing to hose it down with flame, but stopped when a figure emerged from behind it.

"What the hell is that?" Jake whispered in front of him.

The figure was tall and cloaked entirely in black. The hood of the cloak was pulled down to low to see the face and its arms were folded, the hands tucked into the sleeves. 

It was walking slowly towards them and at the sound of clicking, Bellino looked down and saw the figure was wearing boots with stiletto heels, was it a woman?

He looked up when several more shots were fired. The figure raised its arms, putting its hands out.

All the rounds exploded in front of it as if they had struck a wall and Bellino noted the hands were as white as chalk, the fingers were long and slender.

"She wants him." The words echoed in Bellino's mind.

"What the holy hell?" Marco stepped forward and squeezing the trigger sent a storm of bullets at the figure.

Jake cried out as the bullets exploded and he was struck by fragments of hot metal. The robed woman was walking towards them as the bullets went off around her like harmless fireworks.

"No way." Marco lowered the gun. His eyes wide, "No fucking way!"

"Fire with fire bitch!" Bellino yelled and squeezed the trigger. 

A thin stream of fire shot out at the figure and hit its mark.

"Yes!" Bellino cried out triumphantly as the figure before them burst into flames, "Burn you fucking whore, burn you...."

He stopped and a chill went down his spine. The figure before them was completely engulfed in flames, but wasn't screaming or even moving for that matter. 

The flame burned brighter when Bellino sprayed it again, then as if a switch had been thrown the flame extinguished.

"Mother of God." Marco whispered.

The robe had burned away to expose the woman beneath it. She was wearing a black skirt that went down to her ankles, but when she stepped forward, Bellino saw it was slit up to the hip on both sides, exposing high boots and thighs as white as her hands.

Her top was a black and blue corset laced up tight enough to show off a pair of large milk white breasts. Her arms were bare, but covered from shoulder to elbow with tattoos of some kind of demons.

Her head was down, her face covered by a mass of wild jet black hair with blue streaks through it. She moved towards them and Mario and Bellino took a step back for each one she took towards them.

Bellino sensed movement and saw Mario had ejected the clip from his pistol and was slamming another home.

"Defective rounds." He whispered sounding as if he were trying to convince himself.

In front of them, Willie and Jake stood up and both fired from only several feet away. The woman waved her hands and this time the bullets didn't explode, but veered past her to sail down the hallway.

"Who the fuck are you?" Bellino called out, "I want your name bitch! I..."

"I'm the daughter of the devil," A raspy voice spoke from behind the mass of hair, "And I'm here to collect my father's due."

Dropping his gun, Jake grabbed a piece of wood from the floor and swung it at the woman's head. Her hand rose and Jake screame. There was an explosion of flame in front of her and the wood shattered into pieces.

One of them landed at Bellino's feet, it was charred.

Jake had fallen to his knees screaming in agony and Bellino's blood froze when he saw both his hands were burned so badly he could see bone through the lobster red skin and oozing blisters. 

"Shut up." The woman snarled, her hands dropping to her thighs, she swung back handed and Jake's screams ended in a wet gurgling sound.

Bright red blood sprayed into the air and Bellino saw the long curved blade in her hand when it passed through Jake's throat.

Her other hand flashed forward, something silver sailed through the air and Willie staggered back, his hands going to the matching blade protruding from his chest.

Marco staggered back, bumped into Bellino and turning ran back into the room. Bellino backed up slowly, knowing he should high tail it out of there, but watched in morbid fascination as the woman stepped forward and grabbed the hilt of the knife sticking out of Willie.

She shoved him against the wall and he shrieked in agony. His screams went up in pitch and his body jerked and twitched and Bellino saw steam rising from the knife. When Willie's body stopped jerking, she pulled the blade out. It was so hot it was glowing.

Wisps of steam rose from it as Willies blood was burned off from the heat. The woman moved her head, flipping her hair back to expose her face. Like the rest of her, it was bone white, the only color coming from the black lipstick and heavy black mascara around her eyes. 

And her eyes....Bellino was only five feet from her and staring into a pair of eyes as black as her hair. More disturbing than the color of her eyes were what was reflected in them, nothing. Bellino had stared into eyes burning with rage and wide with fear, bright with lust and filled with tears and remorse.

But the eyes he was now looking into were devoid of anything, they were dull and lifeless, the eyes of a doll, they were...inhuman.

Holding up the blade to her face, she licked the remaining blood from the tip and despite the fact the blade was red hot, her tongue remained unburned. She licked her lips and gave Bellino a chilling smile.

"Hello, matches, I heard you like to play with fire." She held up her hand each of her long fingers had symbols tattooed all over them. There was a popping sound, he knew all too well and a flame appeared around her hand and ran down her arm to her elbow.

"So do I." She waved her hand and the flame vanished. "Time to..."

"Down!" Marco yelled behind him.

Jimmy threw himself into the wall as the gun roared behind him. He bounced off it, and staggered to stand to the left and behind Mario. He had his phone in his hand and Bellino hoped to hell he had called someone when he had bolted into the other room.

Several explosions appeared in front of the woman and seemingly caught off guard she staggered back several steps. Curling her lips into a snarl, she hissed. "Enough"

She pointed her finger and Bellino fell to the side, crying out at the sound of an explosion. He fell to the floor and when he looked over Marco was on the ground, his head, what was left of it, a blackened bloody mess. 

He was still holding the bottom half of the pistol, but the back of it was gone, having blown up in his face. 

"Just you and me, matches." She walked towards him and he sent another stream of fire at her. 

She put her hand up and the flame changed direction, going into her palm where it vanished. 

"No more toys." She yanked her hand to the side and Bellino gasped as the gun was torn away and sailed across the room. 

He stared at his hand in disbelief; it had felt as if someone had yanked it away from him. 

"Who...who the fuck are you?"

"You don't know your own family's stories?" She asked, in that slow smoky voice. "I suppose not, seeing you don't know the rules."

"What fucking rules?" He asked, backing away from her. He looked at the table and grabbing the handle of the brand pulled it from the coals and pointed it at her. 

"Your foul brethren commit all manner of crime in this city and my family allows it because we don't care what little roaches like you do."

"What family?" Bellino was scared, for the first time in his life he was as scared as any of the people he'd tortured and ultimately killed. But she'd said family, there was an agenda here, something he could work with.

"We're a very old family, matches, so old you'd have to have been hanging around the Garden of Eden to have met my daddy."

"Yeah...whatever...." He waved the brand at her. "Cut the shit," He tried to sound tough, "You don't need a schtick with me."

"All I'll need with you is a shower to wash the stink of your cowardice from my body."

"You hurt me the Vitelli and Bellino family will be after you bitch, every fucking one of them."

"Your family? The Cosa Nostra," She sneered, "Spineless cowards who sneak around shooting people in the backs of the head and torturing people, beating them when you have strength in numbers."

She continued forward and Bellino found he couldn't hold his ground, but kept moving back, waving the brand in front of him even though she didn't seem concerned by it.




Abigail



"I'm not afraid of you. You freaky looking fucking slut." He jabbed at her with the brand, but she didn't flinch, just kept coming.

"Yes you are." She smiled coldly. "But you haven't tasted true fear yet."

"Bitch, like I told your porch monkey friends, if you hurt me you'll..."

"Ah, yes threats. You're kind is good at those; you threaten women, little girls and other men if you have enough men with you that you won't get hurt. The mafia is nothing but schoolyard bullies, little punks."

"But on occasion one of you has some honor and a deal was made between Marcus Vitelli and my family. That deal is you do not sell flesh in this city."

"Wait..." Bellino blinked as her words made him recall what he thought had only been a story his mother had told him.

"You're...Lorena Lefay?" He shook his head, "Can't be, that was years ago and I heard that bitch is dead."

"You talk of family, yet you think no one else has any? I'm her daughter and I'm here because you kidnapped girls with plans to sell them."

"Now it's time to show you what happens to people who cross my family and that a lone Lefay is more than a match for a pack of jackals."

Bellino gasped when his back hit the wall. She stopped less than three feet from him. In her heels she was as tall as him and those dead eyes stared into his.

"Children, dog, they were not even women, but children." Her lips curled into a snarl. "You were going to take you time, hurt them, make them squeal, make them beg."

Her voice rose and the air shimmered around them. Sweat poured down his face and he felt his skin flushing.

"You were going to enjoy every minute of it then send them off to a lifetime of rape and for what? Some money?" She shook her head, 

"Drugs, gambling, graft, strong arming, even normal prostitution we'll let go, but trafficking?"

"You maggots were given one rule and your uncle was smart enough to agree rather than have his family slaughtered like the pigs they are. But you had to cross that line, didn't you?"

"We...it was the first time and we...we won't do it again." He raised his right hand, trying to take her focus away from the brand.

"No, you won't." She said, "In fact you won't be doing anything except singing for me and it will be a lovely song of pain. Pain befitting a sadistic animal like you."

Bellino flinched at the sound of cackling. The huge crow was perched on top of the table, its wings folded, its dull black eyes on him. Those eyes...they were identical to hers.

"Yes, my pet, I'll give you a nice juicy prize before I'm done."

"No!" Bellino cried out and shoving the brand forward struck her in the cheek with it. 

Her head moved to the side from the impact and there was a hissing sound as he pressed it into her skin. Her shoulder dipped and Bellino screamed when a white hot pain burned across his hand. 

The brand fell to the floor and staring down in shock, holding his wrist, he saw pieces of his severed fingers on the ground next to it. He grabbed his wrist trying to stop the blood spurting from the stumps remaining on his hand.

His blood spurted onto her face and chest, but without flinching she whipped the blade back around and a line of pain sliced across his cheek.

He staggered to the side, but she slammed her hand into his chest, holding him up. She held her hand out and the brand flew from the floor into her grasp.

With a smile she shoved it into the side of his face. Bellino screamed in agony as his nose was filled with the smell of his own burning flesh and the sound of it sizzling from his bones.

"Like that?" She hissed, "You were going to do this to little girls! You have done this to women! Sing, you son of a bitch, sing for your sins, sing for Samantha and Mandy!"

She dropped the brand and stepped back, pulling the other blade from her boot. She held both knives in front of him and he whimpered in pain and fear when the blades turned red, steam rising from them.

Abigail put her hands together then spread them apart. Bellino screamed as his arms flew out to his sides, the backs of his hands slamming into the wall. 

He struggled, but it felt as if powerful hands were holding him there. She raised the knives and with an animal like snarl drove the red hot blades through his palms pinning him to the wall.

"Sing for Mary and for Sarah!" She screamed in his face, as he howled in pain. "Sing for every woman you ever hurt! For every child whose parent you took from them and sing for Julia whose brother spared your life so that I may take it!" 

"And sing for Melanie! A girl who was once attacked by animals like you, raped, beaten, left for dead! She died because of men like you!"

She placed her face within inches of his and her eyes were now red around her black pupils.

"You want to know who I am?" 

Bellino tried to speak, but nothing would work, he was in agony and for the first time in his life, terrified.

"My name is Abigail Lefay. Say my name! Sing my name!"

He forced his mouth open, whimpering as his scorched flesh screamed in protest, "A..." all that came out was a gurgle.

"I said sing my name!" The blades in his palms grew hotter and he shrieked as they burned the flesh and bone of his hands.

"A....Abigaillllll!" He wailed in agony.

"Yessss." She purred, releasing the knives, leaving him hanging there on the wall. "Abigail Lefay this is my fucking city!" She tore his t-shirt open, exposing his chest. 

"Now, matches," She held her hand up in front of him and he sobbed when it burst into flames "Time for one last song and to send you on your way to the hell you condemn others to."

"M....mercy." He whimpered, "P...please have mercy."

"Mercy? Like you ever showed any to the people you've hurt." She waved her hand in front of his face and he screamed as his skin blistered and popped. 

"But..." She moved her hand away. "I imagine it would be terrible for you to see what I am going to do to you. So yes, I will grant you a mercy."

She looked over her shoulder. "Balthazar!"

The crow squawked in response and spread its wings. She turned to face Bellino and smiled.

"Take his eyes." 

Mercy Home for Battered Women 1995

"No!" Melanie cried out, her eyes flying open. She lifted her left arm to her face and yelped in pain when the cast on her forearm struck her jaw.

"Ow!" She moaned and sat back against the chair she'd fallen asleep in, trying to catch her breath.

She saw the soda on the table next to her and frowned that there was no straw in it. She didn't want to hit the help button on her chair because then the nurse would want to talk to her and ask her things. 

Things like who she was and where she'd come from and who hurt her. Things she wouldn't answer. Leaning forward, Melanie lifted her broken arms and carefully placed them around the soda. Squeezing, she lifted it, lowered her face to the cup and took a few sips. 

She tried to lean back with it, but when her elbow bumped into the chair it sent a sharp pain through her right arm and she moved it to the side. The plastic cup hit the floor, splattering soda everywhere and Melanie sobbed in frustration.

"Hey, let me help." A soft voice spoke, coming up behind her.

A man all in black appeared next to her and after quickly wiping up the spilled soda with napkins picked up the pitcher of ice water on the table. He poured a cup, slipped a straw into it and held it out for her.

"Thank you." She said, trying to stop crying. Between the nightmares, which visited her just about every time she slept along with some other weird dreams, the pain in her body and being scared, it wasn't easy.

She sipped from the water, looking at the man holding it. He was older with short grey hair, watery blue eyes and a kind smile. Lowering her gaze Melanie saw the white collar on his neck.

She stopped drinking and when she leaned back in the chair, he put the cup down.

"I'm father Tom." He introduced himself. "I come to the shelter twice a week to offer prayer. You've been sleeping the other times I've been here. Glad I caught you to say hello."

"Hello." She said simply, then turned her head to look out the window.

There was a tree about twenty feet from the window and as there was every time she looked out, there were several crows on the branch. Melanie had heard people talk about them, how odd it was they just stayed there all day.

The maintenance guy had shooed them away a few times, but they always came back. Melanie had the strange feeling they were watching her. She knew that was stupid, but whenever she was wheeled into the rec room, the birds would fly from this tree to the fence that ran along the yard visible through those windows.

"What's your name?"

"Jane Doe." She answered without looking at him.

"Do you really not remember your name?" He stepped around the chair, blocking her view of the window.

"Do you really care?" Melanie turned her head again, this time looking straight ahead. She didn't want to answer questions and she didn't want to talk to someone who would want to talk about that mean god that had watched her suffer the way she had.

"I do." He stepped in front of her again and she gave up and sat there facing him. Squatting down in front of her, he put his hands out, "I know you're angry, you've been hurt and you probably blame everyone. But there is something that can help."

She rolled her right eye. He left eye was covered because even two weeks after they had found her, it was so swollen and disfigured the nurses kept a patch over it. 

The doctors had said even once it healed, she would have no vision on that side. She'd been hit so hard and so often the eye had ruptured. The patch had nothing to do with healing, but about people not having to see it.

"God can help you, Jane." He continued speaking soothingly and it annoyed her.

Melanie suddenly felt warm. Since she had woken from her coma any time she became upset or angry she got warm. 

But her temperature never went up, well not above the 103 degrees it always was. The doctors were confused, saying that was a high fever, but she had no other symptoms.

The only person who never seemed puzzled by her temperature or her complaints of heat unaccompanied by sweat or flushing was Pearl. Melanie liked Pearl, she was nice and sweet and for some reason she trusted her.

"You believe that?" She asked, her anger rising, fueled by the fact she was pretty much stuck having to sit here and listen to him.

"I'm a man of God, of course I do."

"Man of God." She repeated and blinked as the air seemed to shimmer in front of her. She felt hotter than ever, like she was burning up. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He smiled encouragingly.

"Do you want to fuck your daughter?"

"What did you say?" The smile left his face.

"You're all bad, please leave." She looked at the buzzer, was Pearl working? She lost track of days and times here. She was so hot and she was shaking.

"Jane, were you hurt by your father?"

Oh, no, she'd been stupid! She jerked her head to the right at the sound of birds. The crows in the tree were squawking and seemed agitated, flapping their wings and hopping on the branch.

"Jane."

"I don't know my father." She looked back at him angrily, "And I don't want to know yours."

"I don't want to upset you." He stood up, "But I want to say a prayer for you, Jane." He produced a small bible from his jacket and opened it. 

"I don't want prayer, I want to be alone." 

"This prayer is from the book of..."

"I said leave me alone!" She yelled at him. 

A wave of heat flowed through her and Melanie swore she heard a crackling sound. Father Tom shouted something and dropping the bible stared at his hands. Melanie saw his fingers were bright red and there were angry blisters on several of them.

"God in heaven." He whispered as he bent down and picked up the bible. 

The edges of it were charred as if it had been on fire. He looked up at her, his eyes wide.

"You...you did that."

"No." She shook her head, "I...I don't know what happened, but I want you to leave." When he didn't move, she snapped, "Now!"

"What's going on in here?" A loud voice with a deep southern accent spoke.

With a sigh of relief, Melanie saw Nurse Pearl coming in. The tall, rail thin black woman hurried over to them. She had been carrying a gift bag and put it down next to her chair."What's wrong, sugar?"

"He's bothering me." She pointed with her left arm, wincing as she did.

"Father Tom? Honey, how is he bothering you?"

"He won't leave and I want him to?"

"Nurse Pearl." Father Tom said, still looking at his hands, "There is something wrong with this girl."

"You think?" She raised her eyebrows, "There's a lot wrong with her, that's why she's here."

"No, not her injuries." He shook his head.

"Father Tom, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Pearl put her hand on Melanie's shoulder.

"What? That's absurd! I'm a priest."

"This is a women's shelter, not a church and you're upsetting one of our patients. This girl is fragile as it is, she doesn't need..."

"We need to talk about this."

"Just leave!" Melanie shouted, "Nurse Pearl, make him leave! Please!"

Pearl looked at her, then cocked her head and stared past her out the window. The crows were flying in circles in the yard and swooping past the window, narrowly avoiding hitting the glass.

"I see." She said softly. "Father, it's time for you to go."

"Nurse Pearl, look at this!" He walked over to her and held his hand out, "Look at my fingers!"

"How did you burn yourself?"

"She did it!"

"A girl with two broken arms burned you? Too much communion wine, Father?"

"I'm serious and look," he lifted the bible, "I was going to read to her and she yelled and...it burned me and look at it!" He waved it at her.

"What are you suggesting?"

"This girl...it sounds crazy, but she's possessed somehow! I can see it, just look at her, she's..."

"A young girl."

"Her appearance..."

"She is an albino who has black eyes, rare, but hardly supernatural." 

"Nurse Pearl, this girl has the devil in her."

"This girl has had several devils in her, Father. Devils in the shape of animals, five animals according to the physical evidence who gang raped a teenage girl, beat her and left her for dead. This girl has seen real evil, Father, human evil."

"I am telling you she did this." He insisted. He looked at Melanie, "I'm sure there is a good soul in there, but she has power, she burned me."

"No, you burned yourself on a pan at home." Pearl replied, her eyes locked on his.

"What are you talking about?"

"You thought the oven was off, but it wasn't and you grabbed the pan on the rack and burned your fingers." Her eyes were still on his and Melanie noticed his had widened and he looked confused.

"You were sitting at the table in the rectory and knocked your bible off of it and into the fireplace, you pulled it out with tongs before the whole thing could burn."

"I...the oven." He whispered.

"Yes, the oven, you should be more careful, Father." Her voice sounded strained.

"I should have been paying attention." He smiled, "Senior moment, I guess." He turned to Melanie, "Good day, young lady, I hope you feel better."

"Goodbye Tom." She said, noticing his eyes were glazed over as if he were drunk.

"See you next week Pearl." Father Tom waved to the nurse and walked out of the room whistling.

Pearl put her hand on Melanie's chair and leaned against it. She was breathing hard and rubbing at her temples.

"Are you okay, Pearl?"

"Fine. But you know when you get on in years some things aren't as easy as they used to be." She flashed Melanie a huge smile, "Now how is my little Elvira today?"

"Okay, except for..." She frowned, "I don't know why I got so mad at him. I think he was trying to be nice."

"He is a kind man, sugar, but not our kind."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Elvira." She touched her cheek, "So much you don't yet know, but you will soon."

"I don't understand."

"You will, honey." She gently brushed some her face, "Pretty soon that friend of mine is going to come and see you."

"Who is she? I don't like to talk to people."

"You'll want to talk to her, Elvira." Pearl assured her, "She's very special, just like you."

"I don't feel special. I feel achy."

"I know, honey, but you're doing pretty damn well. The doctors can't believe you pulled through, but I'm not surprised at all."

"Why?"

"Damn, Pearl you do run off at the mouth sometimes." She laughed, "Another sign of old age. "Hey, I brought you a present."

Pearl lifted the gift bag and pulled out something black and fuzzy. Melanie laughed when she saw it was a stuffed crow with a bright orange beak. 

"That's cute!"

"Its Heckle or Jeckle" Pearl, grinned, "Doesn't matter, they look the same. I thought you would like it seeing crows seem to like you."

"Thank you." Melanie's eyes filled with tears, "No one's given me anything nice in a long time."

"Aw, honey." Pearl put the crow on Melanie's lap and hugged her, "I'm so sorry life's been hard, but you trust old Pearl, things are going to get a lot better."

"You think?"

"I know so." She kissed her cheek. "You need anything, Elvira? You hungry? You feel up to a bath?" She grinned, "Feel like telling me your real name?"

"Elvira is okay and I'm just tired." She found she could barely keep her eyes open. "And I just woke up."

"People heal when they sleep and you have a lot of healing to do." Pearl picked up the stuffed crow and tucked it under Melanie's arm, "You just get your rest. I'll be back in an hour to check on you."

"Okay, Pearl, thank you." She squeezed the crow against her, "I love it."

"Knew you would." She winked, but the smile left her face and her soft brown eyes grew distant.

"Pearl?"

"Shhh." She lifted her head and sniffed the air. "Honey, go to sleep." She put her hand on her forehead and a wave of drowsiness came over her.

"What's wrong?" She tried to keep her eyes open.

"Something wicked this way comes as they say," Pearl muttered, "Just rest, it will be fine." She pushed harder on her head and Melanie closed her eyes. 

The need to sleep was overwhelming, but she didn't want to and as soon as she focused on that thought, the feeling passed, but she kept her eyes closed when she heard Pearl speak.

"Detective Wilson, I told you I'd call you if she remembered anything."

Oh, no it was that cop, the one who kept asking who she was and what happened, why wouldn't he leave her alone?"

"I know, but I like to follow up." 

"That why no one else is following up on it?" Pearl asked, sweetly. "I've heard this was buried pretty quickly, except for you. Funny thing is you're not part of the SVU department."

"We're undermanned nurse Lacroix."

"Pearl, please."

"Pearl this city is full of women like this, you know, you see it here, SVU can't keep up so we share the load."

"I see, well she's sleeping and I am not going to let you wake her. There's nothing to tell you, detective, just like yesterday and the day before."

"So Miss Doe still remembers nothing?"

"Nothing before she woke up at Mercy hospital."

"Think that's true nurse, or think she's lying? Girl like that; young, no ID, found assaulted screams runaway. She may have run away because of a bad home or maybe something to hide."

"Detective you were at the hospital, you saw her before she woke up. She took a severe beating, so severe they're still trying to figure out she survived. Memory loss is not uncommon for that much head trauma."

"But nothing? Not images, a name, a face? Smells suspicious to me."

"Her story isn't the only thing that smells here, detective."

"What is it you keep trying to imply, Pearl? Whatever it is, I'm not liking it."




Abigail



"Just gut, detective, you know what that is, I'm sure." She chuckled, 

"Old Pearl don't know nothing about po-lice work, but she knows men and she knows a lie when she comes across one. Perhaps a friend of yours did something bad and needs his friend the detective to..."

"Watch what you say old woman." He said menacingly "And I better not find out that girl knows something or 'old Pearl' will be charged with obstruction." 

"I have your card, I have all three you gave me and so does everyone else in this shelter. I will call if she remembers anything, know why?"

"Because I just put you in your place?"

"No," Pearl laughed, but it wasn't pleasant, "Because those men deserve all that is coming to them, them and anyone that helps them so trust me, Detective, I am all about helping you find them."

"Good," He said stiffly, "That's better, please call if she speaks of what happened."

"You have my word."

Melanie heard heavy footfalls leaving the room and then sensed Pearl standing over her.

"Elvira, you awake, honey?"

Melanie kept her breathing slow and steady. She had pretended to be asleep a lot around Rudy and did the same thing now. 

Anytime she woke up and Pearl was in the room she was on the phone and would hang up as soon as she saw her awake and Melanie wanted to know who she was talking to. She trusted Pearl, but something was going on.

She heard the squeak of the chair in the corner of the room where the phone was, she could hear Pearl dialing and noted that she seemed to be able to hear a lot better since she'd woken up.

"Its Pearl, you need to get here and soon. Yes, I know there's trouble down there, but you can't wait much longer, she burned someone today, its starting and I don't think I can handle her if she triggers" A pause, "I took care of it, but I'm not what I used to be, I might not be able to help again." 

More silence. "That cop is still coming around. I'm not so old I can't smell a liar. He knows what happened. I can't hold him off if he wants to push. He'll have to be dealt with."

This time the silence was so long Melanie, risked opening her eye, then closed it when she saw Pearl still listening on the phone.

"Perfect. I can get Linda to start a paper trail, do it quick, she can be in your custody in no time, providing that cop goes away."

"No thanks necessary Miss Lorena, after all you've done for my family. I told you years ago you'd get her back and here she is."

Melanie heard the phone hang up and the squeak of the chair, she sensed Pearl standing near her, and felt a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"Rest well, little one, you're going home soon."

*****

Melanie sat up in her bed, gasping for breath. She'd had another dream, but not the same nightmare of Rudy. This time she'd had the weird one where everything around her was on fire. She was in the middle of the flames, but not burning, not even feeling the heat of them.

Black shadows flitted through the fames and burst out around her. They were crows and they would circle her, chirping at her, occasionally landing on her out stretched arm and nuzzling their heads against her before flying off. 

A tall shadowy figure appeared in the flames and a deep voice spoke to her.

"Do not fear, my little one, I am your true father." The arms of the shadow lifted, "Come to me, blood of my blood, I wish to welcome you and be the first to call you by your true name."

That's when she'd awoken. She looked at the clock next to the bed, it was only six am, and normally she'd sleep until someone woke her up. She still felt strange, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and had the sense something was coming. 

"Just the dream, Wayne." She said to the stuffed crow she had named after her older brother, the one who'd tried to protect her from her parents, but couldn't. 

She wondered where he was and how he was? Melanie knew she had broken his heart when she ran, but she couldn't tell him where she was going. She'd had no idea where she was going. The first bus that pulled into the Greyhound station was Chicago and that's where she was now.

If only she hadn't been panhandling on that corner. If she hadn't been fooled by Rudy who bought her coffee and food and was nice to her and offered her a place to stay...

She saw something large and black flash past her window. Keeping Wayne between under her arm, she slid her legs off the bed and carefully got up, trying to keep her arms close to her chest, and walked over to her chair by the window.

Sitting down, she flinched when another shape hurtled past the glass. As usual there were a few crows on the branch across from her, but as she continued to watch two more landed next to them.

"Wow." She whispered at the sight of the two new birds that were easily twice the size of the others.

Melanie leaned closer to the window and the two birds cocked their heads and lifted their wings as if they were greeting her.

"They are." A woman spoke softly behind her, "They're amazing are they not?"

Melanie jumped at the unexpected voice and when she turned she saw two women standing before her. One was a tall blonde, but the other woman looked...

"You look just like me." Melanie said, stunned as she took in the woman's white skin and doll like black eyes, 

"Oh, look at you." The blonde spoke, a smile on her face, "You're perfect."

"Yes she is, so beautiful." The woman who resembled her agreed, while standing in front of Melanie and smiling down at her. "What's your name my dark flower?"

"I...Elvira." She said quickly looking back and forth between them. They were dressed the same, both in sleeveless dresses, the blonde's red, the other's black and they were both wearing knee length black boots with high heels.

"That's not your name." The blonde laughed.

Sinking to her knees in front of her, the dark haired woman touched her cheek, "My name's Lorena, what's yours?"

Melanie gasped, her lips hadn't moved and it seemed she heard the words in her head, not through her ears!

"How did you do that?" She asked, "Who are you?"

"No worries sweet girl." Lorena said softly, "We're not here to hurt you."

"Quite the opposite." The blonde said, coming closer and putting her hand on her left shoulder. "We're here to see you're never hurt again."

"But...who are you?" She repeated her question, then looked at the buzzer next to her chair, "Where's Pearl?"

"Dear Pearl will be along shortly, I'm sure our arrival has woken her." The blonde said as she stared past Melanie. "Look at them watching over you, they're so much better than people."

"Pardon, my sister, she's the bitter one in the family."

"Sister?"

"I know, no family resemblance," The blonde laughed, "But trust me I'm blood or....you wouldn't be able to hear this."

Her voice sounded in her mind and was followed by another laugh.

"I'm Lydia Lefay." She spoke aloud again, "And do you truly not know who we are?"

"She doesn't." Lorena looked up at her, "It's obvious her past has been hidden from her by a deserter."

"Ah, one of those. It makes sense."

"We're your family." Lorena said, putting her hand on her right arm.

"I don't have any family." She shook her head, "I don't remember anything."

"We're your true family, Melanie."

"How..."

"You told me when I spoke in your mind." Lorena told her, "When I asked your name, you thought it."

"I'm dreaming and I really have no family." She swallowed against the tears that seemed to keep coming these days. "Not one that loved me anyway."

"Those days are over, Melanie."

"I don't understand."

"You couldn't right now, but you will." Lydia said, also meeting her gaze.

Lydia's eyes were a bright blue, and along with her blonde hair and tanned skin she looked nothing at all like her sister, who could very well have been Melanie's mother.

"Lydia takes after her father." Lorena said, with a laugh, "You think quite loudly. But trust me she is as true of a Lefay as there ever was. Just as you are."

"Lefay? That's not my name."

"It was before your mother changed it to hide from her heritage, we all have the same mother and father."

"That sounds like...god?" She asked, confused.

Lydia burst out laughing and with a grin, Lorena said, "That could not be further from the truth."

"Then what do you mean?"

"Melanie we have so much to tell you and share with you, but not here. Right now we need to get you out of here. I want you to come home with me."

"I don't know you."

"Yes you do, sweet girl." Lorena began to rub her fingers along her cast. "Do your arms hurt?"

"They ache and they itch, they really itch."

"My my look what the crows flew in!" Pearl exclaimed, hurrying into the room. 

"Old Pearl." Lydia turned to embrace her. "I swear you haven't aged at all."

"I wish, I look pretty old."

"But you always did." Lydia laughed.

"And this is why Lorena was always my favorite of the two of you." Pearl told her, turning to hug Lorena who had stood up for her.

"Dear, dear Pearl." Melanie was surprised to see tears on Lorena's cheeks as she hugged the older woman. "You told me so long ago this day would come. I'm so sorry I ever doubted you."

"I'm sorry it took so long, but the spirits can't tell time the way we do."

"You will be highly rewarded for this, Pearl." Lydia said, "Name your desire."

"I have all I desire. You paid my debts years ago and saved my husband from those men the fool had gone into debt with. It's I who am repaying a debt." She smiled at Melanie,

"But if you feel you owe me, then move with haste on getting our wounded bird away from here."

"Wait, where am I going?" Melanie said with alarm, "I'm scared." 

"Don't be." Lorena turned away from Pearl and resumed her position kneeling in front of her. "Melanie we want to love you the way you always should have been and I promise I will earn your trust before we go."

"She burned a priest." Pearl said.

"I love her already." Lydia cackled.

"I persuaded him to forget about it, but my powers are becoming limited, it's possible he could recall what happened soon."

"That would be fine with me." Lydia smiled nastily. "It's been awhile since I faced off with the men of the alleged almighty."

"There will be none of that my sister." Lorena spoke while still looking into Melanie's face, her hand once again caressing her cast. "This needs to be done quietly."

"There is a detective that is coming around. He knows something." Pearl continued, "I smell it on him. I think he knows who did this."

"Melanie, what happened to you?"

"Don't want to talk about it." She shook her head. 

"But we can...."

"They'll find out and hurt me!" She cried out, "Rudy will find me he said he'd always find me if I ran!"

"Lorena see what happened, you're gentler than I am." Lydia said, coming over to stand by her sister.

"Melanie, in order to keep you safe, I need to know who hurt you."

"Uh-huh." She clutched Wayne closer to her, "Please don't make me talk about it."

"You don't have to. I can see it if you think about it."

"I said no." She tried to sound tough, but her lip was trembling.

"Okay." Lydia came over next to her and kneeling down caressed her other cast.

"Let's make a deal. We do something very nice for you and then you let Lorena look." She smiled, "Deals are a family tradition, we always do favors, but for favors, it's like Christmas presents."

"What are you going to do?"

"Deal?" Lydia smiled, "It's a good gift, trust me."

"Okay, but only if it's real good." Melanie nodded.

Lydia looked at Lorena and winked. The two women closed their eyes and switched from lightly running their fingers along her casts to squeezing them tightly. Melanie winced as it first it hurt, but the pain was replaced by a tingling sensation.

It was an odd feeling, but not painful and much better than the itching. 

"What..."

"Shhh." Pearl, put her finger up to her lips and winked.

Lydia was singing softly and although she could hear her, it was in a different language and she had no clue what she was saying. Lorena joined her, their voices mingling.

Outside the crows were all screeching and squawking. But not the two large ones, they remained still, their eyes locked on the window.

The tingling changed to heat. Her arms grew first warm, then hot, very hot, but she felt no pain, only heat. Lydia reached across and took Lorena's free hand in hers. 

Melanie's head jerked at a sharp pain in her bad eye, but it only lasted a second before being replaced by that same burning sensation.

Melanie heard another voice and turned her head to see Pearl's eyes were closed, her hands clasped in front of her.

She wasn't singing, it sounded more like praying and it was in a different language then the one the sisters were speaking in. 

Melanie gasped as an electric shock went though her body. Her arms and legs jerked and a wave of heat flowed through her, starting at her eye and flowing down through her body, right on down to her toes.

"She was....sorely wounded." Lydia said, rubbing her temples as she released Melanie's arm.

"Yes and now I want to know more than ever by who."

"But you didn't do anything for me."

"Pearl, a mirror." Lydia spoke.

With a smile, Pearl picked up a small mirror from the tray next to her bed and came over.

She handed Lydia the mirror and carefully removed the tape holding the patch over Melanie's eye. 

"How's that?"

Melanie saw her ruined left eye was now perfect, there wasn't even any bruising or swelling around it. Pearl placed her hand over her right eye, "Can you see, honey?"

"I can." Melanie smiled, "I can!"

"But wait, there's more." 

Lydia looked at Lorena and they each put their index finger at the tops of her casts and slowly ran their fingers down them. There was a hiss and a foul smell, like something nasty burning and as Melanie stared in shock, she saw a trail of blackened plaster the width of their fingers.

When they reached her hands they stopped moving their fingers and grabbing the sides of the casts, split them open, exposing her arms.

"Go ahead and move them." Lorena said, with a tired smile.

Melanie lifted her arms and wiggled her fingers; there was no pain at all!

"Oh my God!" She cried, "I'm okay, you...you healed me!"

"We did and some day you'll be able to do that and so much more." Lydia told her. "And learn to not say oh my God." She added, rolling her eyes.

"Thank you!" With a laugh, Melanie picked up Wayne and hugged him to her.

"She's adorable." Lydia laughed.

"Now, you're end of the deal." Lorena turned serious and put her hand on her cheek. "Just relax and let me look, you don't have to do anything, but don't fight it."

"okay." She said nervously.

Lorena took her hands in hers and gave her a reassuring smile. "Look in my eyes." 

Melanie did as told then screamed. Flashing through her mind was a series of images. Her hitting Rudy with the bottle, her being punched then dragged back by her hair, Rudy holding her down. 

She screamed again and again as she briefly relived the five animals attacking her, shoving their things in her holes, all three of them, fucking her until she was bloody, then making her 'clean them off"

"Noooooo!" She wailed and there was a flash of light and she smelled something burning.

"Lorena enough!" Lydia yelled.

The images faded and Lorena fell back into a sitting position, breathing hard. Melanie saw the curtains around the window were on fire. Lydia stepped over to them and waved her hand. The fire vanished immediately.

"What is it?"

"Oh..." Lorena rubbed her head, "O...one of them was a cop."

"That explains the damn detective." Pearl said.

"Let me see." Lydia grabbed Lorena's hand. 

Her eyes widened and releasing her sister's hand, her lips curled into a snarl. "Fucking animals! I will make them sing a song that will be remembered for years to come!"

The air shimmered around her and Pearl, grabbed her by the shoulder. "Easy, bad enough her screams probably woke people up and I have to explain the curtains, contain your rage, Lydia."

Lorena had gotten back to her knees and taking Melanie's hands over hers. "It's okay, Melanie we can keep you safe now."

"Promise?" She asked, "He said..."

"He will not be saying anything much longer." Lydia sneered.

"Miss Lydia." Pearl said quietly, "This is not the time."

"Are you mad? Do you wish to see it?"

"I've been tending to her for two weeks. I've seen their handy work." Pearl approached the tall blonde and put her hand on her shoulder.

"The Orisha's showed me their shadows, not who they truly were, but they showed me their fate and they will not die for several months and not by your hand."

"No, they..." Lydia stopped when Pearl placed a hand on her forehead.

Lydia's eyes grew distant and she whispered, "Oh, I see." Pearl removed her hand and Lydia smiled, "I like it. Through blood reborn."

"But the detective needs to be dealt with now, he didn't hurt her, but knows who did." Pearl produced Wilson's card and handed it to Lydia.

"Go now, my sister." Lorena said, "Find him, get what you need from him, then do as you will."

"Understood." Lydia came over and leaning over the chair, hugged, Melanie. 

"I will see you soon my niece."

"Niece?" Melanie repeated in her ear, but returned the hug; it felt good to be able to do it.

"Yes, my little one, you are my niece and oh, how my sister has longed for you. Do not break her heart Melanie, come home with us."

She kissed her cheek and turning from her embraced Pearl once more. "Not bad for half ass hoodoo want to be."

"Coming from a half breed whore. I'll take that as a compliment." 

They both laughed and Lydia walked towards the doorway, when she reached it, Lorena called out to her.

"Make him sing, my sister, as only you can."

"In your honor." Lydia bowed her head to her, then vanished into the hallway.

"Sweet Melanie." Lorena said still kneeling in front of her. "I knew I would find you some day, you know why?"

"Why?" Melanie asked softly, she was overwhelmed with what was happening, but she was no longer scared. These women had already helped her more than anyone ever had.

"Because I had a daughter, a beautiful little girl named Abigail, she passed away when she was only seven. Had she lived she would be your age now." Lorena smiled up at her, "And because you look like me, you look just like her."

"You must have been sad." Melanie turned her hands over so she could hold Lorena's. The older looked at their hands and again there were tears in her eyes as she spoke.

"I'm still sad." The smile left her face, "Losing your baby is like losing a piece of you, it leaves a hole. A hole like the one you have because you don't have anyone."

"I had a mother and a father, but .they didn't love me." Why did she just say that, she wondered. She wasn't supposed to be saying anything or someone could find out who she was and send her back.

"Because they weren't your real family, yes you were born to them, but sometimes life gets it wrong." Pearl spoke from where she sat behind Lorena. "But when it does, it usually finds a way to make it right.

"And that's why I was meant to find you." Lorena cupped her cheek in her hand.

Instead of flinching away from her touch as she did with everyone else except for Pearl, Melanie leaned her face into her hand, feeling her own tears return at her loving touch.

"When my sweet Abigail passed, I was told by a woman," She glanced at Pearl and winked, "With a powerful gift my daughter would come back to me someday."

"Now here you are, this wounded, sad lonely girl who's missing the love of a mother, of a family."

She stood up and leaning over put her hands on Melanie's shoulders, "And here I am a mother bereft of her daughter with so much love to give."




Abigail



"Look at us, Melanie; we're of the same blood, a family that transcends simple bonds of siblings and parents. I saw things in your mind. Your mother called you a freak, tried to cover your appearance, deny you who you were."

Lorena stopped and shuddered, "And I see your father, sick twisted hypocrite who lusted for you. But we will truly love you, Melanie and for who and what you are. I promise you I will not only keep you safe, but love you with all my heart."

"Do you mean that?" Melanie asked, her throat tight with emotion, "You'll love me?"

She ran her finger along Melanie's cheek, wiping the tears from her face, "I already do love you."

She hugged her tightly and Melanie could feel their tears mingling as she pressed her face to hers. "Come home with me."

"Where's home?"

"I have a big farm outside of town, with horses, you like horses?"

"Love them." Melanie smiled into Lorena's shoulder. "Can I ride them?"

"You can do whatever you want."

Looking over her shoulder she saw Pearl watching, wiping at her moist cheeks. When she saw Melanie looking, she smiled and mouth the words "Go with her."

"Will I see Pearl again?" She asked, still in Lorena's embrace.

"Something tells me old Pearl will pop in to say hello." Pearl told her.

"Will you come with me? Will you join your true family?"

"I'd like that." Melanie nodded and hugged her even tighter, "Thank you Lorena."

"No, not Lorena." She said in her ear.

"What do I call you then?

In a choked whisper, Lorena answered, "You call me Mama."

The Present

"Abigail?" 

Her eyes jerked open at a light touch on her shoulder and as her right hand darted from the hilt of the knife protruding from her boot, sparks flew from the finger tips of her left.

"Easy!" Seth pulled his hand away from her arm. "We're here."

"Here?" She was surprised to see her club, The Black Flame, approaching on their right.

"You fell asleep about a minute after you got into the car."

"Oh," She rubbed at her throbbing temple; she had expended far too much power tonight. Turned it into a show rather than just being quick about things as she should have been. 

She had been so drained she had to lean against the wall as she had made her way down the last flight of stairs to get to the street. Seth had been waiting for her and she had been so relieved to see him, she hadn't berated him for disobeying her.

Abigail had stubbornly tried to walk down the alley and across the street to where her car, a sleek black McClaren 650s convertible, with the license plate helfire, awaited them. Halfway there, Seth casually slipped his arm though hers and after a moment she gratefully leaned against him.

Seth was smart enough not to ask what was wrong, or what she had done upstairs, just simply did what he always did; keep her safe. 

"Bad dreams?" He asked, "I heard you say mama a couple of times. How is she?"

She shot him a dirty look. "My dreams, like everything else, are my business."

"Of course they are, my apologies for giving a shit about you."

"I don't need your care." She fought not to smile at him as like he always did, Seth took her nastiness and made it into a joke. "Or your shit."

"Duly noted, but I suppose I can see how you could be bored; it was a pretty dull night." He smiled, his white teeth a sharp contrast to his ebony skin.

"I do need to get out more," She gave him a tired smile, her own perfect teeth flashing against her black lipstick. "Oh, wait this is why I never go out, I just don't play well with others."

"Those fuckers deserved it. You saved those girls, Abigail." Seth stopped at a red light and looked over at her, "You saved hundreds from that fate. They were just getting started and you stopped them cold. They won't try it again." 

"One would hope." She jerked her head when her eyes started to close once more.

"Wow, you really wore yourself out on Bellino." Seth pulled slowly through the intersection, mindful of the people walking across the street to and from the flame. "I could hear him screaming from five floors down."

"He did sing a pretty song, didn't he?" She spoke while watching two girls dressed in similar high boots, short skirts and revealing blouses.

They were holding hands and looking to cross. Seth stopped the car to let them pass and enjoy looking at them. Abigail didn't object, in fact she was sure she had far more interest in them than Seth.

Their large breasts were all but popping out of their tops and their long well shaped legs were accentuated by fuck me boots. But what caught Abigail's eye was their youth. The club had an under twenty one section and these two looked to be the minimum of eighteen.

They were laughing and she felt a pang of sadness. Abigail's childhood and teen years had been taken from her by monsters, then destiny. She'd had few friends in her later teens.

Then again it was hard to have actual friends when you seduced every girl you spent time with. Abigail took in their wide eyes and full lips. They were now looking at the car and pointing. The windows were too heavily tinted to see in; but they yet made a show of posing in front of it for a moment. 

The taller of the two blew a kiss to the car, and then kissed her girlfriend, making a show of fondling her ass, before giggling and hurrying across the street.

Abigail watched their asses, well displayed in their tight skirts, sway and sucked on her lower lip. She imagined them between each other's legs, pictured them in bed together. Licking, touching, teasing.

"Shall I pull over and ask them if they would like a private tour of the flame?" Seth smirked, "From Abigail Lefay herself?"

"No, I have other things I must do tonight." She said, telling herself as much as she was him. 

Truth was, despite her exhaustion she would have loved nothing more than to approach them, bring them back to the club, to her penthouse suite above it, to her bed. An entire night of youthful squeals and whimpers, their moans and sighs, a glorious tangle of limbs with tongues and fingers roaming, exploring.

"So can I ask?" Seth cut into her thoughts and she was relieved for him to do so. Abigail was trying to stay true and anytime she could avoid temptation was a small victory.

"Ask what you will, Seth." She put her hand on his muscular forearm, "You earned it tonight, those girls were not saved by me alone."

"Bellino." He drove on towards the club, "You kill him or make him wish you did?"

There was a look of excitement on his face most would find disturbing, but Abigail knew all too well. She had seen it in the mirror often lately.

"There was a spark of life left in him, but I doubt he will survive until he is found." She paused, recalling her final look at him, "I don't think he would want to."

"Good." Seth said simply, then gestured to the club as they pulled in front of it, "You going to make a grand entrance?"

"No, I think I'll avoid the club the rest of the night. I need to look after Lorena."

"How is she?"

"Just pull around to the side and let me in there."

Proving again how well he knew both her and his limits, Seth nodded, "As you wish."

Cruising past the flame, Abigail allowed herself a tired smile. It was nine pm and there was a line from the doors to the corner on both sides of the building. Putting her window down, she waved to Rick and Jay, the two massive doormen who were dressed in old fashioned black cassocks, with rope belts. 

Beneath their ratty looking 'evil monk' garb were two incredible physical specimens. Both ex Special Forces, they were licensed to carry the automatic pistols hidden under the robes.

The armed guards weren't for the occasional out of control drunk; they could be handled with ease by any of her well trained bouncers, but more series problems. Abigail and her family had made more than a few enemies through their dealings here in addition to ancient family feuds.

Add a few more possible threats after tonight; she thought as the two massive guardians returned her wave. She put the tinted window back up and admired the flame as Seth waited through the mini traffic jam in front of it. 

The building was originally a small six floor hotel built in the mid eighteen hundreds that for several decades was considered the finest establishment of its size, but when the city fell on hard times could barely stay open.

The owner at that time was a notorious gambler, who without the income of the hotel, couldn't afford his losing habit and turned the building over to a wealthy smuggler to pay his debt. It was then closed as a hotel, but the first floor renovated into a club during the roaring twenties. 

The other floors were allegedly apartments for staff and some select guests, but in reality the building was being used to house dealers of both drugs and sex. Narcotics of all kinds, alcohol during prohibition, prostitution and there were rumors of slave trafficking. 

Eventually the Hoover led FBI raided the building as a demonstration of its growing power. After a bloody gunfight that ended in two dozen deaths, they confiscated not just drugs and cash, but women who had been held prisoner and forced to serve as whores and men and children days away from being sold and taken overseas by modern day slavers. 

The building was boarded up, but left alone due to it being considered a landmark and only one of its kind to survive the great fire of 1871. There had been several efforts made by real estate developers to get funding to refurbish it, but because of its location in the now seedy south side of Chicago no one would invest in a place no one wanted to stay.

It had been set on fire in eighty five and although most of the interior was heavily damaged, the outer structure was still sound and in the early nineties the building had been bought by a wealthy eccentric who fancied himself an occultist and after remodeling the first floor, he reopened it as a club with the ludicrous name Lucifer's Oasis.

Fifteen years ago, in the summer of 2000, Abigail, celebrating her twentieth birthday with her current girlfriend walked into the club. Despite its campy decorations and waiters and waitresses parading around wearing fake horns and tails, she fell in love with the place and the concept. 

The club was doing poorly and Abigail went to Lorena who had made a fortune with her and Lydia's company Herbal Remedies that sold holistic medicines and asked her to buy it. Lorena agreed without needing any coaxing and Abigail had thought it was because she had wanted to make her combination adopted daughter young lover happy.

Fact was, as Abigail would realize years later, Lorena felt it would keep the youngest and most volatile member of the Lefay family out of trouble by giving her a hobby. It had turned out well for all involved. 

Abigail threw herself into working on the club and created not just a successful business, but her own little world that to this day she rarely left. From the beginning Abigail had turned the sorry excuse for a club into a playground of the flesh as well as a haven for people with true occult leanings.

The entire hotel had been painted black and when the windows were shuttered was nearly invisible in the darkness. But when open, each of the dozens of windows in the front had red lamps in them.

The two large glass front doors, had been replaced by massive wooden ones, designed to look like they'd come from a fortress. The foyer leading into the club featured red lighting and Abigail had all but two windows above them blacked out. From across the street it gave the appearance of demonic eyes over a gaping red mouth and even now the effect made her smile. 

They pulled around into the wide alley that ran alongside the building and was used for deliveries. They stopped at a tall metal gate halfway and Seth thumbed the remote under the dash. When the gate swung open; he cruised through and stopped when it closed behind him.

Seth raised the doors to the car and hopping out, came around to take Abigail's hand and help her out. Abigail knew that until they revealed themselves there was a high powered rifle trained on the car from a fourth floor window.

A metal door located behind a dumpster slid open, disappearing into the slot in the wall to reveal the receiving area and two men sporting similar braids to Seth; both cradling rifles.

"Welcome home, my lady." Renaldo said in his thick Creole accent, "Pleasure to see you."

"Pleasure is mine." She smiled, and although part of her wanted to lean on Seth, she could never look that weak in front of anyone else. 

"What about me?" Seth asked.

"What about you, mongrel?" The other, Benjamin, laughed. 

"Funny." He gestured behind him, "Park your mistress's car Renaldo and hold your breath so you don't befoul the interior."

With a bow to her and a snicker at Seth, he handed his rifle to his counterpart, and headed for the car. Abigail saw he had a pistol tucked into the small of his back and two hunting knives similar to hers, protruding from his combat boots.

"I want a third person here the next few nights, Benjamin" She pointed at the ceiling, "And one more up above."

"My lady must have ruffled some feathers tonight." He grinned

Right on cue there was a loud flapping in the alley and with a whoosh of air, Balthazar sailed over their heads and down the short hallway that led into the back rooms of the first floor club.

"That bird can move, I was doing ninety most of the way here."

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I mean I was driving your vehicle with the utmost caution." Seth said with such a serious expression, she laughed.

"Of course you were." The door closed behind them and after they had made their way beyond the loading dock area and out of site of Benjamin, she leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek, fondly. "Thank you for your help tonight, take the rest of the night off."

"No, I'll ghost around the club and..."

"Tell Wendy I said you may choose from any girl working tonight."

"You know, I could use a little breather." He bowed deeply to her, "Thank you, Abigail. I hope you take some time to enjoy the night. After all, we have much to celebrate." 

"That remains to be seen." She said under her breath as she watched Seth pass through the doorway that led out behind the bar in the main club.

Abigail turned down the narrow hallway and stopped before a red tapestry depicting a hand woven version of Goya's infamous painting of Saturn eating his son. She slid the tapestry to the side and grabbed the handle of the locked door behind it.

Abigail concentrated and turning the handle heard the click of the lock disengaging. She winced as even that common act caused a sharp pain in her head. The door led into an outer passageway that ran along the club, from top to bottom.

Taking a deep breath, Abigail inhaled the earthy smell of the corridor that only a handful of people knew existed. The original purpose of the passageway that ran between the outer and inner walls had been to smuggle alcohol during prohibition and drugs and slaves at other times as well as serving as an escape route for those running the illegal activities. 

The floors of the corridor had been covered with dirt to muffle the sound of footsteps and Abigail had let them remain that way. To her right the corridor angled downwards past the first floor of the club, continuing through two underground levels, until it reached a large sub cellar only a select group of special people knew existed, the people who celebrated black mass with her every week.

The hallway was narrow; the walls on either side barely more than two feet from her shoulders, and in her exhaustion, Abigail placed her right hand along the wall as she began her journey to the fourth floor.

Her hand jumped as she reached the wall that bordered the main level of the club. The grinding beat of Nine Inch Nails' Closer pounded against her palm and she envisioned the scene on the other side. 

To most, The Black Flame was a Goth club catering to the BDSM and fetish crowds. Well, not the real crowd, the posers. Young girls resembling her true appearance, dressed in goth makeup, wearing dog collars and leather skirts.

The men would be wearing harnesses and trying to act strong and dominant. The type of crowd who thought if they used handcuffs, and said "Master" or "Mistress," they were living the lifestyle.

They would all be on the dance floor gyrating in a seductive fashion, trading stares they felt were confident and menacing, and acting as if they were dark and edgy as if they were better than the lemmings they truly were. 

The club also catered to the same type of occult wannabes: men and women who, because they owned some tarot cards and had once read a few paragraphs of Crowley or Levay, thought they were mages.

For both groups, Abigail held nothing but contempt, but the posers spent well and gave The Black Flame the illusion to the authorities of just being a place with a gimmick. The vibrations stopped as she ascended to the second level.

An effect of using so much energy was the loss of control of her supernaturally heightened senses. Right now she was a raw nerve, a lightning rod for emotions and open to anything around her.

Her nostrils were assailed by the peppery scent of sex. This was the level where the men and women who worked for her entertained the patrons of the club. Some of Abigail's employees were simple prostitutes and with the purchase of a two hundred dollar ticket, a customer could come to this level with the person of their choice.

Her ears picked up the unmistakable sounds of flesh pounding flesh, as well as moans of pleasure. To Abigail, the moans could easily be identified as to whom they belonged to. The louder, more desperate sounds were of the clients. 

Men and women who had just laid down their hard-earned money for what, despite their best efforts, would usually only amount to a half hour or so of enjoyment. The others, the softer, encouraging, and to her trained ears, completely insincere moans, were those of her people.

They lay there, or sat up on their hands and knees, or sucked and licked in a mechanical way, simply going through the motions. They received half the price of the ticket, and even as they let their partner have their way with them and acted as if they enjoyed it, they were thinking of getting back onto the floor to make more money.

"Oh, fuck!" a male voice called out from the other side of the wall. "Goddamn, you can suck cock, honey. I wish my wife had a mouth like yours."

Abigail rolled her eyes as she continued her slow climb. No doubt this louse's wife would be more than happy to please him, if he even had an inkling of how to please her.

Or perhaps she did please him, a loyal woman desperately trying to make her man happy and thinking she was 'keeping him,' when in reality the dog would fuck whomever he wanted, no matter how good the wife was. 

Granted there were women who were unfaithful as well, using the standard line to their paid lovers of 'he just doesn't care anymore!' As if their husbands' neglect, perceived or otherwise, was an excuse to break an allegedly sacred vow.

As she had many times before, Abigail wondered why people bothered getting married. The answer of course, was fear of loss. What if this was the best offer I would get? What if I have to be alone? 

All the fears and self-doubts that plagued those who had no faith in anything, but what they could see in front of them. As she had observed over the years, there was love and there was lust, and despite the popular claim otherwise, lust would always hold sway.

The expression 'the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,' was a joke. If the spirit were truly willing, the flesh would have no say. For Abigail and the rest of her coven, the flesh drove the spirit. When the flesh was happy, the spirit was happy—indulgence over abstinence—why deny the enjoyment of the beautiful bodies they had been given? 




Abigail



What reward could be worth spending your entire time on the earthly plane trying to behave in a manner some pious hypocrite years ago had deemed righteous?

Abigail smirked at the thought those very people who preached this righteousness were the ones most easily felled. The rooms were equipped with cameras should she ever need to exert a little influence in the city to get her way and what she had stored on the clubs tapes could bring down some of the top figures in organized religion, not just locally, but nationwide.

The pious were the most easily led into what they referred to as sin. They had denied themselves the simple pleasures of life so long it took little more than a pair of soft lips and firm tits to make them throw away a lifetime of faith for a few minutes of pleasure. 

Her smile faded at the thought of one particular man of god, one for whom those soft, inviting lips—and at the time, budding breasts—belonged to those of his own daughter.

"Avaunt shades of the past," She whispered in the old tongue. "Thou hast no dominion over the present."

But the present also had shades as Abigail had found in her own heart the hypocrisy she mocked in others. At a time when she should only be focused on one thing, the dying woman who had raised her, she continued to battle her own lust, struggling to remain loyal in her lover's final days despite the fact that lover didn't want her to. 

Abigail stopped moving as a wave of intense emotion struck her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and could smell the mixed scents of fear and desire. She had reached the next level, the one the posers would never know existed.

On this level the men and women were not common whores, but highly-skilled dominants. They were trained in the fine art of mixing pleasure and pain, and the clients were paying in the thousands for that experience. Some of the clients themselves were dominant and Abigail had a full stable of submissive males and females to cater to them.

"Oh please, Master. Oh please, it hurts!" A female voice begged from the other side of the wall. Abigail felt a thrill run through her at the sound of the trembling voice. It was filled with pain, but also a sense of anticipation as her body had no doubt been both punished and pleased for quite some time.

"Stop your whimpering, or I'll show you what true pain is," a harsh voice replied.

Under normal circumstances, Abigail would enjoy listening and absorbing the emotions of such a session while allowing her own lust to build. But after tonight, knowing what she had saved those girls from, she couldn't bear to listen to a woman being beaten even if it were fully consensual and she would receive much pleasure with that pain.

The fact she profited from the sex industry had been a point of contention years ago when Lorena had made her original deal with Marcus Vitelli. But what an animal like that would never understand is there was a right and wrong way to sell sex.

The women and men who worked here did so of their own free will. They were well compensated financially, were protected from any harm by the bouncers and Abigail herself, and were free to leave if they wished to.

Several of them lived in the small suites on the fourth and fifth floors of the club and it was rare when one did decide to leave. Unlike other brothel's or clubs, the Flame was safe, gave the sex workers full say on what-or who- they would do and was drug free. The only vice the club served was that of the flesh.

Abigail reached the fourth floor where Julian was told to bring the girls to Lydia who would take good care of them, including healing any minor wounds they might have incurred and arrange for them to be driven home by members of the staff, all armed and charged to keep the girls safe no matter what.

Not that Vitelli would be aware of what had transpired yet, but she would take no chances. Abigail slipped through the door, and entering the room, grunted when she closed it behind her. There was a cheaply made book case attached to it, with a few paperbacks strewn about on it.

It was a cheesy trick straight out of old horror movies, but an effective one. Abigail looked about the empty suite and frowned. This was where the girls were supposed to be. She walked further into the room and stopped when the lights went out. 

She sensed a presence in the room and although she couldn't conceive of how someone could have gotten through her security and up here, some of her family's enemies had gifts and talents all their own. 

Remaining in the center of the room, Abigail found the hilts of the knives protruding from the tops of her boots. Her temples throbbed painfully and she felt lightheaded as she gathered her will, preparing to burn anyone appearing before her

Her grip tightened on the blades and she eased them from sheathes sewn into the boots. She heard rustling behind her, but her senses told her, it was a ruse; there was someone in front of her. 

"And are we shy?" She whispered into the darkness. "Let's see who we have here."

The candelabra on the table in the corner burst into flame, throwing a flickering light around the room in front of her. 

Abigail peered into the still shadowy corner of the room, swearing there had been movement there. Icy fingertips touched the back of her neck and ducking low, she spun around, slashing wildly with her left hand, while dropping the knife in her right as her hand burst into flame.

There was no one there.

"Boo!" A voice exclaimed behind her. 

Abigail came around again, the flames in her right hand exploding outward, sending a stream of fire at her unseen attacker. The flame stopped in mid air, gathered itself into a ball and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Those icy fingers get you every time." A familiar laugh came from the darkness.

"Glad I can amuse you, Lydia." Abigail replied stiffly while sheathing her knife.

Opening her left hand she held it out for the knife on the floor, but it only rose a foot before a sharp pain crashed through her head and it fell to the floor. 

"Are you okay, Abigail?" Lydia stepped out of the shadows in front of her.

"I'm fine." Abigail answered, bending over, she went to pick up the knife, but it sailed away into Lydia's outstretched hand.

"You don't seem fine." Lydia came closer, slipping the knife into Abigail's boot, her piercing blue eyes boring into Abigail's black pupils. 

There was a familiar tingle in Abigail's mind and she quickly closed her thoughts before her aunt saw any images of tonight's attack or her plan surrounding it.

"You're depleted, my niece." The smile had left her face, "Was there that much of a fight tonight? Didn't you let Seth and Julian take care of most of it?"

"I handled more of it than was intended." She shrugged, "Guns are what these dogs are used to, I gave them something to truly fear."

"And left yourself so exhausted you would have died had there been more awaiting you."

"But they were not and Seth was there if there were."

"But Seth is one man, Abigail." Lydia looked down and following her gaze, saw there was blood splattered on her chest and the tops of her breasts.

. "You've shed blood tonight. That meant close quarters. You can kill from a distance Abigail, why risk harm?"

"Because sometimes I need it."

"I know you do. If there was anyone who would understand reveling in bloodshed it would be me." 

She put her hands on Abigail's shoulders, "That's why I was not sent. You were chosen to send a message and cause a little damage, but within reason. I control my demons, yours have free reign far too often."

"Thank you for pointing that out...again." Grabbing the bottom of Lydia's tight red top, she pulled it up, exposing her stomach. On each side of her pierced naval was a small noose barely an inch tall and half that wide. The nooses were part of a chain that went all the way around her waist.

"Someone with this many marks speaks of control?" 

"I'm the death dealer of this coven; it is expected of me to be crazed. You need to be ready to lead, Abigail. Our brethren all know I am a loose cannon and my power suits my position. But you need to know the line between what needs to be done and what you choose to do."

"I understand." Abigail said wearily.

"Those are words." Lydia grinned, "If you are truly learning restraint why are you shielding your mind from me?"

Her grin turned into a lascivious smile, "Or perhaps there is a sweet little thing awaiting you, that you would rather I not know about?"

"There is no one. My lover lies dying, do you think me that heartless?"

"Spare me the drama." Lydia rolled her eyes, "You're thirty eight, not thirteen. You're also a Lefay. There is fire in our blood, Abigail and that fire makes us prone to two things. Blood lust and pure lust. None of us are meant to be with one lover."

"Not true. Lorena and I..." She stopped when Lydia rolled her eyes. "Forget it."

"Yes forget it." She nodded, "Forget what your mother wants for you."

"I know what she wants of me." She replied stiffly. 

"You know what you want to know." Lydia sighed, "Your mother, my sister, is dying Abigail. She weakens by the day."

"I know that!" She snapped, "Must you keep driving it home?"

"At this stage in her illness and with her time drawing to a close, Lorena wishes you to forget her as a lover and treat her as a mother and she wants you to be enjoying the fruits of your body and those of others."

Abigail thought back to two months ago, the sweet little redhead that had caught her eye at the club. She envisioned her between her white thighs, her pink tongue on her clit, those blue eyes looking up at her. "I failed once, but I will keep my vow."

"Your vow is only to yourself." Lydia kept pushing "And I don't blame you, she was adorable." She laughed at the look on Abigail's face, "You are tired, you let me see that."

"I am exhausted." 

"Let me see." Lydia once again locked her eyes onto hers. 

"No need."

"How badly did you hurt Bellino?"

Abigail gave in, "See it for yourself."

Lydia took her hands in hers and as her eyes grew distant while looking into Abigail's mind, she stared at her aunt by adoption. Despite the fact Lydia was a Lefay her appearance was the total opposite of the rest of their family.

Lorena and Lydia's mother had been pure Lefay, born with the classic features of albino white skin, raven black hair and black eyes. Their father had been a warlock from a powerful coven from Europe and Lydia took after him, with blonde hair, blue eyes and adding to the contrast, she was deeply tanned from years of living in Los Angeles. 

Even their body types were different, whereas most of her family tended to be busty; Lydia was thinner and small breasted. Currently dressed in a tight low cut red blouse and black miniskirt more befitting a girl of twenty than a woman in her fifties; Lydia led by example when it came to enjoying their bodies.

Abigail had no doubt Lydia had been prowling the club and more likely than not had already indulged at least once, if not twice, it was nine thirty after all. Without thinking about it the images of the night flashed through her mind as Lydia easily pulled them from her. 

Whether it was the mix of the two family's blood or some other anomaly, Lydia was the most powerful Lefay in generations and it's most dangerous. 

"You fool." She whispered at the last image Abigail had of Bellino, "You tortured and killed him."

"I know, I was there."

"And no wonder you're running on empty. Bursting bullets is difficult and you let them stand there and shoot at you." She grunted in disgust, "Has your club persona affected your common sense, you need to be theatrical now?"

"I enjoyed their fear." She avoided Lydia's gaze.

"Abigail!" She snapped as she withdrew from her thoughts, "Are you insane? The mission was to show up, kill his dogs and strike some fear into him."

She threw her hands up, "He's the brother to the second in command of the Vitelli family! Only Marcus's son, Johnny is higher in the food chain and Donnie Bellino is far more dangerous than his sick little brother. This could be an all out war."

"I know what I'm doing Lydia." 

"I knew I should have gone!" Lydia waved her hand, "But no, your mother thought it would be good for you to do this, show the coven how their next leader will handle things. I told her there are reasons you never leave this club, you're not stable enough to!"

"Lydia, I had to."

"Bullshit! You killed his men; you scare him. That was all we needed!"

"Whatever. I am going to see Lorena."

"No, you will explain yourself to me." She caught her arm, "Trust me; your mother will be far angrier at you than I am. You may as well tell me and I'll go to her with it."

"I explain myself to no one." She ripped her arm from Lydia's grasp and walked past her.

"Don't run away from me little girl." Lydia grabbed Abigail by her long blue streaked hair and yanked her back towards her. "You do not yet rule me, or anyone else in the coven for that matter."

Somewhere deep in her exhausted mind, a door swung open and a drunken voice yelled, "Get back here you little bitch!"

There was a scream and the sound of a slap, "You don't fucking run from me ever!" This time there was a dull thud followed by a hiss of breath and gasping, the sound of a hard blow to a soft stomach.

"No." She whispered.

The air shimmered in front of her and a red haze tinted her vision.

Screams of pain and crying filled her mind, a young girls voice crying out in agony and begging for mercy and at times gagging and retching and things were shoved in her....'shut that fucking pig up, make her suck..."

"Do you know what they were going to fucking do?" She screamed in Lydia's face causing her to take a step back.

"Abigail, calm down."

"Do you? Do you know how bad they were going to hurt those girls?"

"I know, they were going to sell them, that's why..."

"No!" She shrieked, "They were going to rape them first, all of them! Six maybe eight were going to take them, one at a time, make the others watch!"

The candles exploded into flames that singed the ceiling and the curtains burst into fire along with the bedding.

"It's okay!" Lydia, grabbed her shoulder with one and hand and with a wave of the other, extinguished the fires around the room.

"Going to rape them, beat them! Make them scream, make them bleed and they were going to laugh at them as they did it! Going to..." Abigail staggered back, clutching at her temples and trying desperately to close the door in her mind.

"Going to hurt them!" She moaned, "Oh, they were going to hurt them, those poor girls..."

"But you saved..." Lydia, tried to put her arms around her, but Abigail pushed her away.

"And that fucking monster!" She snarled, "He was going to brand them! Do it first so they would already be in agony!"

"I know." Lydia went to grab her again and cried out in surprise and pain when a flash of sparks went off as Abigail's out of control mind defended itself.

Lydia stared at her smoking, but unblemished hands, as Abigail continued to scream,

"That piece of shit, that fucking coward! The Devil's Lieutenant!" She sneered, "He's killed and tortured and he was going to hurt those girls!"

"So yes I killed him, I made it slow and I made him scream! I saw that motherfucker ride and die in the agony he would inflict!"

She stopped screaming and stood there, her chest heaving as small flames flashed around the room; extinguishing as quickly as they appeared.

"I wouldn't let him hurt them!" Her words caught in a sob and with a low moan she sank to her knees, "They were going to hurt them the way they hurt her!"

"Abigail, please," Lydia implored her, but this time didn't try to touch her, "You need to snap out of it."

"She couldn't defend herself, they hurt her!" She looked up at Lydia, tears on her cheeks and her words coming out in heaving sobs, "Why did she have to be hurt? Why did she have to die? Why did they kill her?"

Lydia's hard blue eyes had softened and sinking to her knees in front of Abigail, she took her in her arms.

"Shh," She whispered, stroking her niece's hair, "Abigail, she didn't die, she's very much alive, you know that." She kissed the top of her head and drew her close. "I understand, he was an animal and you stopped him."

Abigail nodded into her shoulder as she fought to gain control.

"I'm sorry, Lydia, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't." She told her, "You just surprised me."

"You're right; you have a right to know my plan."

"Forget it, go upstairs, get some sleep, recharge."

"No." She insisted, "You will not just be my aunt when I take the mantle of the coven, but my advisor. I framed Ruine for this."

"Ruine?" Lydia's face scrunched up in disgust, "That pagan scum makes the Vitelli's look like royalty."

"Seth and the others all wore the feathers of Ruine's cult and they are the right look to begin with. I have ensured they were seen."

"So if this works, Vitelli goes after Ruine." Lydia nodded, "The two of them have been close to war before, and that evil old bastard Josiah has his dogs cutting into Vitelli's drug dealings."

"And little Johnny's not his father." Abigail said, "He's letting them."

"Because little Johnny has himself a sweet little piece of Cajun pussy." Lydia laughed, "Got him going all soft every time she gets him all hard. But this will force his hand."

"The message I burned into Bellino's chest was in Creole and I decorated him with their abhorrent symbols." 

She gave Lydia a cruel smile, "He stayed conscious almost the entire time even with his eyes plucked out. Tougher than I thought."

"I hope this works, Abigail, if it's discovered we'll have two mad dogs upon us."

"It will be fine."

"I have the feeling you're still keeping something from me." 

"Perhaps I am." She said, with a smirk, "I'm not that tired."

"That thing did deserve to die a screaming, smoking, bleeding pile of meat. But I still feel I should have gone. Those girls triggered bad memories for you, and this little outburst proved that."

"I am sorry for that, I acted like a child."

"You did, but it's not your fault. You're worried about your mother and you were sent into a situation that brought up a lot of rage. I fear we set you up to fail, Abigail."

"But you didn't. Those four girls are safe because of you. Already on their way back to their families. Those beautiful young ladies will have a happy healthy life because of you and so will many others because those wretches would have to be insane to try that again after tonight."

"Do you believe that? Now that Vitelli tried, others might."

"I believe that if they are that stupid we will stop them again. Next time I'll take care of it." She winked, "Compared to me you were subtle, at least you didn't burn down an entire city block like I did a few years ago."

"The news said it was caused by a chemical spill in the factory." Abigail grinned. 

"Yup, something toxic caused it, that's for sure." 

Lydia stood and taking Abigail's hand helped her to her feet. 

"How is she tonight?"

"She had a bad day." Lydia said, her shoulders slumping.

Death was not seen as tragic in their coven as they moved on to their father's kingdom in hell and Lydia had been strong throughout this, but it was her sister and Abigail realized she continued to make it all about her, the grieving daughter.

"What can I do for you, Lydia? How about I take your turn by her side tonight, help her through."

"You're to worn down to spare the energy." Lydia sighed, "Truth is its getting to be time to let it go. She was given a powerful sleep remedy tonight, she will rest which gives us a chance to rest." She winked, "And partake in the amazing buffet of the Black Flame."




Abigail and Emily



I had to stand up on my tiptoes to lift the latch and step into the backyard. I'd always gone to the front of the house in the past, but I knew Emily was already out at the pool, and wouldn't mind me coming straight back. The pool was up on a raised deck, with high hedges all around. I ascended the steps and saw Emily was laying out on a deck chair. I called out hello, but there was no response. I came a little closer and gasped. Emily was lying face down on the deck chair, entirely nude. Her head rested on her crossed arms. Her bikini lay in a pile beside the chair.

"Emily?" I said again. Again there was no reply. Emily's back rose and fell evenly, and her breath gently stirred the strands of hair over her face.

On the small glass table close by, there was a pot pipe, a wine glass, and a bottle of red wine. I could guess what had happened. Emily had thought she would work on her tan lines and get some nude sunbathing in before I arrived. But she'd gotten drunk and stoned and fallen asleep in the hot sun.

I kicked the leg of Emily's chair. "Hey! Emily!" I yelled. I leaned down and shook her shoulder. Man, she's really out, I thought.

In fact, Emily's ability to sleep through anything was near-legendary. Once she had locked herself in her dorm room the night after a party and slept right through the building's fire alarm, despite everyone pounding on her door to get her up. Luckily it had turned out to be a false alarm.

Another time a friend of ours, Wendy, had confessed to me that she'd had noisy sex in the same bed with Emily, who'd been completely unaware. I'd been flabbergasted at this story, blushing furiously, much to the amusement of Emily. She didn't seem to mind at all.

Oh, well. Emily would be the embarrassed one when she woke up naked and found me here. I may as well get on with swimming like I came here to do. I really couldn't take this heat for much longer.

I grasped the hem of my dress and pulled it off over my head. Underneath I wore a simple one piece with a striped pattern. I went to the edge of the pool and stepped out of my flip flops, diving in with a splash. I swam a breaststroke from one end of the pool to the other several times, then flipped over and switched to a lazy backstroke. The water was refreshing and pleasantly warm from the sun. I stopped swimming for a while and just floated in the center. It was so relaxing.

When I climbed out, I realized I didn't have a towel. I went to the deck chair next to Emily, inadvertently dripping some water on her back and legs. Still she didn't wake. I stretched out on the chair, content to let the sun dry me.

Soon I began to feel thirsty. I poured the remainder of the wine into Emily's glass and drank it. I took the pipe and smoked what was left in the bowl. My throat burned with the smoke and my head buzzed. My belly felt warm with the wine. My skin was feeling hot and I fished in my bag for my sunscreen. It was probably time to reapply. With my fair skin I had to be very careful. I squeezed a dollop into my hands and along both my arms, my neck and chest, and my legs. I looked over at my sleeping friend. While she wasn't quite as pale as me, Emily probably burned pretty easily too. When had she last applied some sunscreen?

"Hey Emily, wake up. You're gonna burn." I jostled her shoulder again.

I looked around. Was there anything I could cover her with? She was already laying on the only towel. I could go in the house and look for a towel, I supposed. I stood up to do just that, but then I thought, What will she think when she wakes up and she's covered with a towel? She'll think I was ashamed to see her naked. She'll say I was being a prude, just like she always says. I could hear her taunts so clearly, I had to look to be sure she was still asleep.

I'd had to endure her jibes just two nights ago, along with those of her boyfriend, Rick. I had come over and we'd spent the evening drinking and talking. We'd goaded each other into doing shots.

Emily had wound up on Rick's lap, the two of them exchanging passionate open-mouthed kisses while I sat uncomfortably nearby. I was trying to be casual, but I wasn't sure where to look as the two grew bolder. Was I supposed to be watching them? Emily fondled the obvious tent in Rick's jeans. Rick's hand moved further up Emily's inner thigh, under her skirt. He tugged the strap of Emily's tank top down and her nipple popped into view. I squeezed my thighs together and sat on my hands.

Finally they remembered I was there. "We're being rude," Rick said, looking over at me.

"Abigail doesn't mind," said Emily. "Isn't that right?"

I couldn't think what to say. Something that would seem casual, to show how cool I was with the whole thing. "I'm fine!" I managed.

Emily giggled and rolled her eyes. "I forgot. She's such a prude. She gets so uncomfortable whenever I undress in front of her." She turned to face me more fully, cupping her exposed breast in her hand. "You don't want to see this, do you?"

"It's fine!" I said.

Rick gripped Emily and began sucking on her nipple. Emily kept her eye contact with me. "Really? So this doesn't bother you?"

I could see Rick's tongue playing over Emily's breast, coaxing a gasp from her. "Really, I don't care!" I said, louder than before.

With a sigh, Emily pushed Rick off of her. She hooked a thumb under her strap and put it back in place. Her breast disappeared from view. "God, Abigail. When are you going to lighten up and have some fun?"

"You know what, I have to go anyway, I have an early morning," I said. I gathered my things and left. As the door closed behind me, I could hear Emily and Rick laughing at me.

Well, today I'll show her I'm not a prude, I thought. "I am totally comfortable with you being naked, Emily," I announced out loud. "So comfortable, in fact, that I'm going to do this."

I grabbed up the bottle of sunscreen and squeezed some into my hands. I leaned down over Emily's body and spread the lotion over her skin, starting with her back and shoulders. I used just my fingertips, and moved in quick, broad circles, half-expecting her to wake with the cool touch of the lotion. I didn't bother to rub it fully into her skin, leaving some areas still showing thick white streaks. I turned and bent over her legs, treating them the same. All that was left was Emily's butt. There was no avoiding it, I'd come this far. I was surprised at how soft her ass was. It jiggled a little under my touch.

There. I was done. I felt rather proud of myself.

I laid back down on my own deck chair again. I thought of what Emily would say when she woke up. I would tell her proudly how I'd put sunscreen on her body while she slept.

What would Emily say? She'd probably still call me a prude, I thought. After all, I'm still sitting here in my suit, while she was brave enough to go nude. Maybe Emily had intended us to sunbathe nude together. Maybe she'd meant this as an invitation. For some reason I felt warm all over at the thought.

"That's it!" I said out loud. "You win, Emily!" I grasped the straps of my suit and shrugged them off my shoulders. I peeled the damp fabric down my body, wriggling my hips and lifting my butt to get it down to my legs. I sat up and put the suit near my chair where I could reach it if I had to. If Emily started waking up and I chickened out, I probably still had time to get it back on.

I laid back down, trying to be calm and enjoy the feeling of the sun on my exposed flesh, but I found my heart was racing and my stomach was in knots. I was feeling flushed and warm all over. Oh my goodness! I thought. I'll burn! I grabbed up the bottle of sunscreen, squeezing out a generous portion. I would have to pay good attention to my breasts. They had never been in direct sunlight like this. And they were so big, there was more of them to burn. I squeezed them together, and rolled my hard nipples between my fingers. My slick hands massaged the sunscreen into my sensitive flesh. I had to admit it felt good. At last I moved on, spreading lotion over my soft white belly, my hips, and reapplying to my arms and legs. I stretched languorously, practically purring with pleasure. I imagined showing Emily the gorgeous new all-over tan I'd soon have.

There was one area I hadn't seen to yet. Stealing a glance at Emily, still sleeping beside me, I spread my legs and gazed down at my tender pink pussy. I really should take care of this as well. After all, I kept it completely free of pubic hair. Emily didn't know that, did she? It was so exposed now, so naughty, for me to spread it open with one hand as I was doing now, letting the strong sun strike my inner lips and clit directly. With my other hand I spread lotion in a circle all around my pussy. I raised my knees up to my chest so I could reach further down, to the beginning of my ass cheeks, and in between, around the bud of my asshole. I wanted to be sure to protect all these sensitive areas. Emily didn't know I liked to play with myself like this. There was a lot Emily didn't know. I allowed myself to touch my asshole with one questing finger and shuddered. I shouldn't play with myself here, not now. That would be so naughty, wouldn't it? Emily could still wake up at any moment. I stroked my finger back up between my parted pussy lips, dragged it over my erect clit, teasing myself. Was it being exposed outdoors like this that made me so horny? Was it the pot? I looked over at my sleeping friend. Or was it being close to Emily?

Oh my gosh! How long had it been? Wasn't it time to put more sunscreen on Emily? You had to be very careful about reapplying, I knew. She would never forgive me if I let her burn.

I got up off my own chair and sat on the edge of Emily's. I didn't bother being as careful this time. I knew she wouldn't wake up for some time, not until she'd slept off the wine and pot. This time I massaged the sunscreen into Emily's skin, rubbing her back and shoulders firmly, pressing with my palms, spreading my fingers wide to get it everywhere. I rubbed along the sides of her chest. Her breasts bulged out where they were pressed into the towel.

I had to be sure to get both sides equally. I stood up and stretched one leg over her body. I settled back down kneeling, straddled over her hips, my buttocks resting on her thighs. I went on and on, rubbing the lotion into her back. Why did it feel so good to touch her like this?

I kept thinking of the other night and how I'd left early. Maybe I'd missed out! Had Rick and Emily been trying to have a threesome with me? Oh, why hadn't they asked directly? I might have said yes! I wasn't attracted to Rick, not really, but what if... what if he'd forced Emily and me to kiss each other, and instead of joining in, he'd sat there and stroked his cock. He'd have told us both what to do, exactly which clothes we needed to remove, where we should kiss each other next... umm... He'd watch as I sucked gently on Emily's tongue, on her delicate little nipples, as we made love right in front of him.

Or... or maybe it would be Emily who took charge, making me kneel before Rick, one hand holding his cock, the other on the back of my head, pushing me forward to accept him into my mouth and to taste his salty precum. Somehow I didn't think that would be so bad, if I were doing it for her sake. Maybe I would try to deep throat Rick, to show Emily how much I wanted to do a good job for her, but I wouldn't quite be able to do it at first. And she would gently, patiently, take Rick's cock from me and suck it herself to show me the proper technique. We'd go back and forth, taking turns sucking his cock, and at last I would be able to do it, I'd take in all of Rick's cock, and Emily would be so proud! She'd reward me by laying me back, parting my pussy lips, and guiding Rick's cock deep inside me. And as he fucked me, she would keep her fingers on my clit, helping me, guiding me towards a fantastic orgasm. When I came, we would be looking into each other's eyes, clinging together, ignoring Rick.

I found myself rocking back and forth, pushing my crotch insistently against Emily's buttocks. I moved my hands down and began kneading her soft flesh. I watched as I pushed her cheeks together and then parted them again, and her pretty pink asshole was exposed. Further down, I could just see her pale pink slit and a few wisps of hair. I leaned backwards to get a better look. I could almost imagine that her lips parted, just slightly, showing more pink and perhaps even a hint of wetness. I groaned out loud at the sight. One hand left her body and found its way between my own legs. God, I was sopping wet. I could feel my wetness was dripping down onto her thighs. I stroked myself guiltily, promising myself that I wouldn't have an orgasm on top of my sleeping friend, outdoors. I'd just work myself up a little, and then go in the house to the bathroom to finish. Then I'd be able to relax and enjoy the day without distraction. But first I wanted to touch her a little more.

I let one finger just brush against her little pucker... Did I see it quiver in response? I couldn't resist doing it again, slower this time. I so badly wanted to play with her, to do the same naughty things to her that I did to myself. My finger was resting on her asshole. My heart was pounding, waiting for some response. I began to press, lightly... No, I couldn't do it!

I moved my finger aside and kept massaging Emily one-handed as I had before. My other hand continued between my legs. I plunged two fingers deep within myself and was amazed at the loud wet sounds I was making. I needed to touch my tits, though. I reached up and groped my own breasts with both hands.

I imagined Emily was behind me, pushing my tits together, offering them to Rick as he thrust his big cock up between them. She would be groping my big fat tits, pulling roughly at my nipples, while at the same time kissing my sensitive neck, making me shudder with pleasure. I would be feeling overwhelmed, pressed between her and Rick, gazing down in wonder at my friend's fingers on my flesh, and at the angry purple head of Rick's cock pushing up through the valley of my breasts. At last Rick would come, his cock jerking and coating my chest with his thick hot semen. Then maybe Emily, her eyes alight with pleasure, would turn me around to face her and lick it all off, then go on, licking me everywhere, long after the semen was all gone. She'd lift my breasts to her mouth, lavishing my nipples with attention, suckling until they were tender and bruised.

I lifted my breast to my own mouth now and caught my nipple between my lips. Emily didn't know I could do this. She teased me about my bigger boobs all the time, or chided me for hiding them under baggy clothing. She didn't understand that I couldn't wear the skimpy bikinis and halter tops that she favored—I would fall right out of them. But she didn't know the advantages that came with my bigger cup size. She didn't know that sometimes I could come just from sucking on my own big tits.

Emily also didn't know that I called in sick to work sometimes and then spent the whole day having orgasm after delicious orgasm. I'd try on slutty outfits I'd secretly bought but could never wear in public. I posed in front of my mirror, feeling like a goddess as I watched myself suckle on my own swollen nipples. I'd even made a video once, propping my phone up on a bookshelf to get a better look at my performance. God, that video was sexy. I'd watched it a thousand times, before I'd gotten ashamed and deleted it one day. I'd almost—almost!—emailed it to Emily, my cursor hovering over the send button. I just wanted Emily to see that I could be slutty too, to see the look on her face when she realized.

I leaned forward and let my breasts dangle down, my nipples dragging across Emily's back. I moved them around, tracing lazy circles. The sensation sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. I settled down fully, rested my body on top of Emily's, pressing my fat breasts into her back. I brushed the hair from her face, watched her breathing peacefully through parted lips. I left a kiss on her soft shoulder.

Emily didn't know about my drawer full of toys. I even had a strap-on, never properly used. But it gave me such a thrill to wear it as I pleasured myself, imagining Emily writhing on the end of it.

I couldn't resist moving. The images in my head were making me crazy. I imagined I was wearing the strap-on now, and what I would do to Emily with it if I could. I ground my hips forward, bucking my smooth mound against her buttocks. Any remaining caution I felt about waking her was ebbing away as I sought my own pleasure. I gripped the sides of the deck chair and squeezed Emily's thighs between my own. My face was right next to hers. We were breathing the same breath. I was shuddering, getting closer now. The intoxicating scent of her warm flesh filled my head. I was getting so close, my whole body was tense with anticipation. I reached back with one hand and probed between my own cheeks. My middle finger found my asshole and I pressed it in to the first knuckle. That was it! My pussy clenched and I cried out, my legs quivering, my sphincter pulsing around my finger.

After several slow, shuddering breaths, I sat up and rolled off of Emily. I needed a moment to steady myself. I sat on the edge of the deck chair, the afterglow of pleasure fading fast. What had come over me?

There was a sleepy moan from beside me. Emily was stirring, looking around.

I grabbed my suit from the ground and thrust my legs into it. I yelped and jumped into the pool, where I could finish getting the straps over my shoulders.

Emily turned her head and looked over at me through heavy-lidded eyes. "What're you doin'?" Her voice was thick and sleepy.

"Nothing! Just swimming!" I said, too loud. "You fell asleep naked, you know."

"Who cares? Just working on my tan lines. Lighten up. God, you're such a prude!"