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Mercy

By: DiaperedSiouxsie



Alan was walking down the streets at a late hour as he often did, thinking of nothing but his loneliness and how to seek an end. He passed endless shops and residences almost looking for someone but at the same time not. He observed the bright lights and architectural accomplishments of the city with utmost apathy as he jingled and jangled the coins in his pocket. He passed many bums laying on the sidewalks who felt obligated to give Alan sympathy. Just the look on Alan's face could make a compassionate person weep on his behalf. As he continued down the boulevard, these thoughts were all that his mind retained:

Walking down these cold and dirty streets
Thinking of the treasure I can never keep
I'll never feel the warmth fill me to the brim
Whenever I do it's taken at fate's whim
I mask myself in smiles and try to hide
But I can't keep myself from crying inside
I need something to fill this gaping hole
If there is a god he finds torturing me droll

He turned up one street and walked down another when he saw something. It seemed to be a woman, but he wasn't sure. Women simply don't walk around at this hour of the night. Alan was curious, however, so he investigated. He walked closer and his suspicions were confirmed; it was a woman standing at a street corner, and a gorgeous one at that. She was adorned in an interesting ensemble to say the least. She had a silky white skirt ending just above her thigh with a matching tight fitting white shirt. Thanks to the cold weather, her nipples were peeping through her shirt as if to say, "Hello!" She had long, well groomed brown hair a tad past her shoulders with greyish eyes. Her pouty lips were rather succulent looking, and her face was a very light color. Alan felt as though he really had nothing to lose by seeking a relationship with this lovely woman, so he continued to walk toward her. As he did, he examined the situation in his mind, wondering that proverbial search was over:

Is this what I have been looking for?
Sheer beauty before me, I cannot speak
Whatever I've been fed, I long for more
Maybe I can now lose my facade, so meek
Have I been granted a chance?
My life to be enhanced?
It shimmers like nothing else can
Beauty exceeding the ordinary woman
More exquisite than imagination
Too good to be a mere temptation
I don't care about consequence
And whatever the sequence
I will be hers and she shall be mine

Finally he approached her, her back to him. He mentally sought what to say until she turned around. "Shit!" she exclaimed. Alan was taken aback. 

"You scared the hell out of me," she snapped. 

Alan shrugged. "I'm sorry," he told her weakly, "but it really is more your fault than mine." 

She arched her eyebrows. "What?"

"Yeah," Alan went on, not totally sure of where he was going with this. "I was just walking, and then I smelled something. It smelled really good! I wanted to find the source, and just now I realized that it was your hair." Alan watched her face nervously and a wave of relief overcame him as she smiled. 

"Well," she answered, "flattery can improve any situation, can't it?"

"It seems so. So what are you doing here?" The woman looked at Alan curiously, her eyes never wavering from his face. 

"Well, I was stood up." Alan was somewhat shocked. 

"Are you serious?" She nodded. 

At this point Alan didn't care. "How?! You're beautiful, for god's sake!" 

The woman blushed. "Thank you," she whispered. "Too bad I didn't have this date with you." A

lan felt a warm feeling in his loins; he knew this was progressing nicely. "Well, it's not like that's so inconceivable," he told her. "I'm amazed that there was any guy who wouldn't want you." 

She smiled again. "Say," she began slowly, "you wouldn't want to go get a cup of coffee, would you?" Alan eagerly nodded. They walked off into the fog to a nearby coffeehouse where they spoke of numerous things; among properly introducing themselves (her name was Juliet), inactive lovelives, how stupid people were, and how great certain musical artists were. 

On their way out, Alan spoke in sheer excitement. "So, can I call you sometime?" She looked at him a bit slyly. "Why don't you just come over?" Alan grinned a large grin, the largest in a good long while. "I like that idea." With that they headed off to her place. It was a small but sturdy looking apartment complex that she resided in, and her apartment was the second door they got to. 

She unlocked it and they let themselves inside. Alan turned to put his coat on a dresser, and then turned around to feel a tongue probing his mouth. He then felt Juliet's soft hand around his neck and after a couple heavenly seconds she backed off. "Where's your bedroom?" he gasped. She held his hand and led him into her bedroom. She sat him down on the bed and she began stripping for him slowly. He was hypnotized by the visual and whispered to himself:

I see you standing here before me
Glowing with perfection
For this moment to never end I plea
Nowhere else is my attention
I hear your voice calling out my name
It sounds so bright I cover my eyes
After this night I'll never be the same
The stars have answered my cries
Please fulfill me
I need your caress
No longer empty
With this lovely goddess

Eventually standing before Alan totally nude, she gently shoved him onto his back. She straddled him and began to pull out his engorged cock, but he wanted to please this vixen so badly. He turned her over onto her back and began kissing her softly, their kisses getting hotter and hotter. His hand reached down to rub her pussy while the other hand fondled her perfect breasts. His hand down with her cunt first massaged her labia and then stimulated her clit. 

He worked faster and faster to develop an orgasm and stopped right when she was about to explode. She was almost thrashing about as they kissed and he fondled and fingered her, and she was going insane with desire. Finally, the third time he stimulated her clit, he didn't stop, and she finally came. 

"Ooooh baby," Juliet whimpered in ecstasy, "I'm cumming.." Alan moved his head down to lick her nipples, and this just enhanced her orgasm. Her screams got louder and louder until her climax subsided, but still another was developing. He moved his head down further, slowly kissing and licking every inch of her beautiful body in his path until he reached her dripping vagina. 

As he ate her out, he squeezed her ass gently, and got rougher as Juliet's moans increased in volume. Moments later she came again, right into Alan's waiting face, and he lapped up all that he could. After wiping his mouth clean on the bedsheets, He moved up and kissed Juliet passionately. "Oh god," she whispered, "just fuck me. Fuck me now, I can't take it anymore." Alan finally stripped and positioned his rock hard cock over her waiting pussy. 

Alan rubbed his penis over Juliet's cunt and covered himself in her juices while she flailed wildly and moaned "Please, just fuck me now," in the most innocent manner possible. Just then, he slowly inserted himself into her. He slid in quite easily and she moaned in extreme pleasure. He pumped into her at a slow but accelerating rate and her vaginal walls felt so indescribably good. He summed it up mentally before the overstimulation could numb him:

I taste your skin
How long it's been
Since I've felt this way
I pound into you
As you swallow me
This game I love to play
I feel comatose
Am I dreaming?
It would be a cruel ruse
And it's seeming
Far too surreal
Overflowing with zeal
We are one
What we've done
Surpasses heaven easily
Here we are
From sadness so far
Embracing the moment so heavily

"Fuck me harder!" Juliet's pleas broke into his thoughts. "Harder! Oh fuck, you feel so good!" Alan fucked her harder, savoring every passing second, every droplet of sweat falling from their glistening bodies. Sex's musky odor had filled the room And all this was too much for Alan. "I'm gonna cum!" He shot his wad deep inside of her wet cunt. "Aaaaah," she moaned as she came. Tremors tore through her taut body. The orgasm was so good it almost felt painful. She shook violently in Alan's arms as he held her on the bed. They laid there for a while holding each other until Alan felt compelled to speak:

I lay here placid with you
Knowing this love may not be true
Though what we felt was passion
It still was a mere action
I my arms I'll hold you tight
For fear that by morning you might
Be gone
Please don't leave me like this
My life no longer resembles an abyss
But only if you are here with me

With that Juliet kissed him and he kissed his fears away. With that they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Mercy



Eastern Thrace, 377 A.D.  

Zura was a beautiful girl. 

The great Lord God gifted her with golden blonde hair, bright amber eyes, and flawless skin. Her face seem crafted by the Lord Himself, in the visage of his loyal angels. Her figure was fit and nubile, the epitome of health and youth. Her bosom and hips were supple and curvaceous, the very picture of fertility. In the countryside village of Silistra, no woman or girl could rival Zura's beauty, not even her sisters. 

When Zura walked through the market, men and women alike would pause their business to bask in the radiance she exuded. Men wanted her, women wanted to be her. 

On a near daily basis, Zura's father was approached by men asking if they could have her hand in marriage. They would trade anything, do anything, pay any dowry, just to have the Jewel of Silistra as their wife. 

But Zura's father was a difficult man to bargain with, for he owned the largest vineyard in all of the Thracian countryside. People came from near and far to trade for his wine, the quality of which was rivaled by few in all the Roman Empire... as was his youngest daughter's beauty. Few could afford his wine, and even fewer could afford the price he levied for his daughter's hand. 

Yes, Zura was a very beautiful girl... 

... until the Goths attacked. 

They came under the cover of night, when the moon was absent and stars were obscured by heralding storm clouds. The darkness cloaked their approach, the thunder masked their marching feet. 

The barbarian tribe razed the village; destroying homes, setting fire to the streets, and plundering the market and farms. Few villagers could stand against their brutality, the likes of which did not seem human. Despite the swords and spears they wielded, the Goths seemed more akin to animals. They wore no armor and bore no shields—only loincloths, boots, and cloaks made from wolfskin protected their hairy tanned skin. At times, the line between man and wolf seem blurred, such was their ferocity.  

They ran through the streets, through the countryside, laying waste to everything in their path. Blood, fear, anguish, and death was the turbulence of their wake. Young and old, sick and healthy alike; men, woman, and even children fell to their wrath. 

Few were spared. 

Among them was Zura. 

Being on a large hill that overlooked the village, her father's villa was among the first to be attacked. She had to watch the Goths invade and take her home-she had to watch her mother and father, her sisters and brothers, and even her nieces and nephews fall to the claws and blades of the relentless Gothic horde... 

One of Zura's suitors—a guest at the villa, a decorated veteran soldier from Rome—could do nothing to protect her. He fell immediately to the savagery of the Goths, his skull cleaved in two, his limbs torn from his body, and his heart ripped out of his chest. 

Zura screamed in grief and fear as the Goths dragged her through the burning streets of her once proud village, asking God why she was spared to witness the destruction of her home and her people. Why hadn't they killed her like the rest? 

When the village was taken and its last pitiful defender had fallen... Zura got her answer. In the smoldering, smoking ruins of Silistra, the Gothic savages took her. 

They took her. 

They ripped at her dyed and embroidered clothes, pulled at her golden hair, grabbed at her breasts, scratched at her fair skin, and plundered and violated her once-untouched chastity. 

Zura was a beautiful girl, until the Goths stripped her of her worth, bludgeoned away her beauty, and stole her purity. They were relentless, when one barbarian finished, she would passed on to another. 

For days after they forced themselves into the village, the Goths forced themselves inside her. Zura never saw respite. The drive to fright and resist was soon quelled. She lost hope-lost faith-in the God that was supposed to love her. Why had He gifted her with such beauty, the very thing that made her the favorite plaything of these savage animals? With every thrust forced inside her, they scoured and chipped away at a piece of her soul... until she laid empty and broken beneath their feverish rutting bodies. 

Her body was a husk. These animals could do with it as they pleased, because her soul was no longer present. Zura was a pale shade of what she once was. 

The famed Jewel of Silistra was now the favored Whore of the Goths. 

/ / / / / / / / / 

Zura tried to will away the throbbing around her bruised black eye, the stinging in her split lip, and the pain between her thighs... but it was difficult, seeing that she was laying wet and shivering under a leafless tree, bound to it by shackles, as were the few other girls the Goths saw fit to "spare." 

The cloudy night sky continued to drizzle—the rain had not stopped since the morning after the attack—turning the ground to muck, and chilling the girls to the bone. Their only defense against the cold were thin woolen tunics that covered nothing, and the red mud that caked their skin, still stained by the spilt blood of the fallen villagers. 

Zura heard the sound of footsteps, and the fearful whimpers of the other girls. 

"That one," said a low raspy voice. 

Zura felt the chains of her shackles being pulled at as the other girls moved away from the speaker, but she did not move. There was no use trying to escape, and the other girls needn't worry. Zura knew who the warrior wanted. 

Rough hands grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet. She stood there, trembling, trying to keep balance as they unbound her. It was amazing she still could stand after the countless assaults her womanhood had suffered over the past few days. 

"Come with me," the warrior said. 

Zura recognized him; she had memorized his beady eyes, crooked nose, and yellow teeth. He was the savage that made use of her most frequently. And it wasn't only her, the animal's libido seemed insatiable; he had taken pleasure from each of the five captured girls at least once. Zura allowed herself a small smirk. At least he would be quick. 

"What are you laughing at, slave?!" the warrior spat. 

"Noth—umph!" 

The man had brought his fist to her face. "Do not speak!" 

Zura spat blood into the mud, along with it a tooth. She had lost count how many teeth had been beaten out of her jaw. 

The man held her tightly by the neck and spat his words directly to her face, "The only reason I do not slash tongue from mouth is so that it can still wrap itself around my cock." 

Zura reeled back at his putrid breath, but said nothing. 

The warrior grabbed her tightly by the hair and pulled her alongside himself as he walked. Zura struggled to keep up; walking was now a laborious chore. Her once graceful gait was now a shambling limp. Cramps and soreness between her thighs were her constant companions now. 

She was led away from the Gothic camp, and up a beaten path, one she recognized despite the blood that still stained it. She looked ahead. She was being led to her father's villa, her home. 

As Zura walked through the courtyard, she noticed her favorite olive tree, the one her nieces and nephews loved to climb. There was a smoldering black pit underneath it... a pyre housing the charred bones of her family... with those of their servants. 

Zura lamented at such disrespect, to think that the Goths had her family-the richest and proudest in the region-share an equal grave with filthy wretched slaves? 

But wasn't that all she was now, too? A slave, cattle—mere property of the barbarian Goths that raped her, nearly every hour of the day? 

She was escorted through the bloodstained halls of her former home. Where was she being taken? The warriors usually had no care or preference where they had their way with her, be it in their tents or open view of others by the campfire. 

Finally, she was shoved through a curtain and into a room. 

"Ritheus, your whore," the warrior said, kicking Zura's shin to force her to her knees. 

Zura kneeled in her father's chamber, the biggest room of the villa. The flat stone walls were bathed in soft light from the oil-lamps and candles that decorated the room. A large wooden tub in the corner was being filled with warm water by another warrior, whilst a table in the opposite corner was being served with food. The fine linen cloths on the bed were replaced by animal skins and furs. Her father's blood had been washed from the floor, but the stain was still plainly there. 

A giant man stood in the center of the room, facing the window, his back draped by a coarse fur cloak. With a deep baritone voice, he told the other Goths, "Leave us." 

The warriors quit the room, leaving Zura alone with the man they called Ritheus. 

He stood tall, well over six and a half feet. He had a protruding belly, and his frame was bulky and wide, but despite that, his broad chest and thick arms were rippling with hard sculpted muscle. 

On his head was a mantle skinned from a bear, the beast's snout and ears still attached. 

Zura knew this man. She recalled his name, in the past having heard it spoken by Roman soldiers that visited her father. Ritheus Ursus, a fierce Gothic tribal chief, known for having the aspect, strength, and brutality of the terrible brown bears that dominated the forests and mountains north of the Danube River. 

She also knew him as the man that had choked her youngest niece to death, decapitated her father, and cleaved her suitor's skull in two. The very axe that had done those terrible deeds leaned against the corner of the room, blade still glistening with viscera. 

Ritheus took off his mantle and loincloth and turned to Zura, revealing a bald head and a bushy black beard, so long it was braided into a plait that extended nearly to his navel. Extraordinary endowment dangled between his thighs. 

For the first time in days, fear struck Zura's heart, and the urge to flee was rekindled. Surely this beast of a man would give her the most brutal raping yet, making her previous tortures seem like the caresses of a tender lover... 

"Girl. Come to me," he commanded. 

Zura did not rise from her knees, fear holding her fast to the floor. She stole a glance over her shoulder, towards the entrance to the room. She knew the corridors of her father's villa better than these savages, she could possibly... 

... but she didn't get a chance. Ritheus walked over to her, his heavy footsteps reverberating through the floor. He grabbed her by the arm and brought her to her feet. 

"Do not think to run," Ritheus said. "Other girls like you have tried, and my men have killed them in pursuit. They know not how to restrain themselves." 

Zura trembled in fright, flashes of memory coming to her eyes... her mother and sisters fleeing the Gothic warriors, only to be stricken down and ravaged on the spot. 

To her surprise, instead of leading her to the bed, Ritheus led her to the bathtub and placed a strigil into her trembling hands. 

He sank into the bathtub slowly, the girth of his massive body causing water to spill onto the floor. A low growl rumbled out of his lips. Or perhaps that was a sigh of relief, Zura thought. The man's voice was so deep it was hard to tell. 

"I would have you clean me," he said. 

Is that all? Zura questioned silently, not daring to speak out loud. She surely doubted it, but she would comply, if only to delay the brutal pummeling that was to come. 

"The oil is there," Ritheus said, pointing at a clay bottle placed nearby. 

As Zura took the bottle, Ritheus turned his back to her, indicating that was where she should start. She poured the oil onto his back, spread it across his skin. She marveled at the rough and bumpy texture, the other Goths did not have skin so coarse. Zura shifted her body to allow the candle light to fall upon Ritheus' back. 

His dark tan skin was covered in a network of terrible scars. They extended from his shoulders and neck, all the way down to his buttocks. Not an inch of skin lay unblemished by jagged bumpy tissue. Afraid that she may cause him discomfort by taking the strigil to his marred skin, Zura hesitated. 

"Proceed, you will not harm me," Ritheus said. 

Zura did as she was told and began to scrape away the dirt and grime from his back. Ritheus did not seem to be in any pain or discomfort, he only moved to give her more access. 

Finally, when she was done with his back, he said, "Strip." 

Zura knew what was to come, so she ignored his command. If he was going to take her, why not tear away her pathetic excuse for clothes himself? What was stopping him? A small girl like her had no hope of resisting a giant man like him. 

With a growl of annoyance, Ritheus said, "Strip, girl, so that you may enter the tub and continue." 

Zura took off her sole piece of clothing, and entered the tub. Ritheus threw his plaited beard over his shoulder so that she had access to his chest. His back was not the only part of his body that held scars. His sinuous arms, thick legs, and broad chest all held hefty wounds that had long since healed, testaments to the life a tenacious warrior. 

Zura continued cleaning him, taking her time and sparring no inch of skin, knowing that the longer she took to perform her task, the longer her body remained uninvaded by turgid Gothic flesh. 

When she was done, Ritheus surprised her yet again by leaving the tub, not once a laying a hand on her. He stomped to the bed and redressed. 

Zura sat in the tub, at a loss for what to do. 

Ritheus sat himself at a table, grabbed a chunk of horsemeat and took a generous bite. "You may clean yourself, if you so wish," he said, mouth full. 

Zura did so, thanking God for yet another delay. She took the oil and strigil to her skin and happily scraped away the dirt, mud, and blood that had caked itself onto her body. She paid particular attention to her thighs, where putrid Goth seed that had long since dried itself. 

Once clean, Zura still remained a far cry from her former glory. Her once flawless skin was still marred by bruises, scratches, and bite marks inflicted by the men that made cruel and rough use of her body. Her once golden and flowing hair was tattered and in clumps, red scrabs peppered her scalp where locks had been torn out. Yet the damage was not only external... nothing could wash away the darkness smeared open her soul by the unwelcome touch of these barbarians. 

She stepped out of the tub, once again uncertain about what to do. 

"Come to the bed," Ritheus said, gesturing that she come over. 

She did not refuse him, knowing it would be foolish to do so. She sat at the edge of bed, still naked and wet from the bath. Was he going to take her now? 

"Here," Ritheus said, grabbing a chunk of bread and tossing it to her. "Feed yourself, lest you wither away into nothing." 

Zura caught the loaf and stared at it. Does he jest? 

Ritheus gazed at her with hard eyes. 

Zura bowed her head slightly, and said, "Gratitude." She took a bite. 

It was stale old bread, but how savory did it taste as it entered her mouth, and filled her aching stomach. Cramps in her harrowed womb had masked a hunger that was now brought to the surface. The warriors of the camp hardly fed her and the other girls. Either from cruelty or neglect, she wasn't sure. 

Finishing the loaf, Zura eyed a hunk of horsemeat. She glanced at Ritheus, and a small nod of his head indicated his approval. Zura tore into it quickly and savagely, in a manner unfit a girl of delicate upbringing. 

Ritheus handed her a cup of wine, and Zura gulped it down quickly. "Such a gluttonous appetite for so small a girl," Ritheus said. 

Daring once again to speak, Zura said, "Your men seldom feed me and the others... if we occupy their attention, it is for other means than nourishing us." 

Ritheus said nothing, he only nodded in understanding. Finishing the last of his meal, he cleared the table and placed a map upon it. He sat there, studying it intently, and stroking his beard. 

Zura watched him in anxious expectation, slowly chewing her food. Was he waiting for her to finish her meal? Why had he not taken her yet? No other Goth warrior had expressed such patience, such restraint, especially when she sat naked and bare in front of him. 

Finally, Zura could not hold her nervous anticipation any longer. Better to have it over with quickly, than be in this state of torturous uncertainty. She asked him, "W-will... will you take me now?" 

Ritheus did not look up from the map, but said, "No." 

Zura could not believe her ears. He must be joking, playing at a cruel jest. She was certain nearly half his army had known the flesh of either her or one of the other girls of her village, during and after the attack. They were savage barbarians, it was in their very nature to rape and pillage, plunder and kill, to take what was not theirs. At her own self-disgust, Zura felt almost insulted. Had the Jewel of Silistra been so badly tarnished that even this base animal did not want her? 

She dared to ask, "Why?" 

Ritheus removed his eyes from the map and steeled them on her. "I too have known the lash of slavery." 

Zura readily believed him, recalling the scars on his back. They were clearly lashes from a whip. "Who was your master?" 

"My masters were the Huns and I lived under their whip for many years. They killed and enslaved many of my people, and pillaged and took our villages. I saw my own sister forced upon by their soldiers." 

Zura scowled. Was he serious? 

Ritheus scoffed. "Yes, I understand the irony, but such is war. I will not fault my men for reaping the spoils of battle, but I myself will not partake. My wife and others follow our army only a few camps away. My men have stained you with filth and disease, and I will not spread it to her." 

Bearing the insult, Zura asked, "Why not lead your men by example? Show them the path of mercy." 

"They would never take it." 

"Why?" 

"Because every last one of them would gladly see you Romans suffer at the end of their blades and their cocks rather than allow a single one of you to walk free." 

"Why did you attack my village then? We are not Roman, we're Thracian!" 

"The shadow of Rome casts itself over your village, and you gladly suckle at her breast!" Ritheus roared angrily. "You are Roman, and we will see every village and city fall in our wake!" 

"Why do you hate us so? We have done you no wrong!" 

"You stupid, spoiled girl," Ritheus growled. "Standing high atop your pedestal, ignorant to what goes on in the muck beneath you." 

"What do you mean?" 

"As every one of my men has fucked you, the Roman Empire have fucked us in kind!" Ritheus yelled, leaping to his feet. He towered over Zura menacingly. "Beaten and broken, we Goths were driven from our lands in the north by the Hunnic horde. We asked you Romans simply for humble refuge, to hide and lick our wounds, yet the second we crossed the Danube we were yet again enslaved, then left to starve! What do you think happens when you beat, cage, and starve a dog? It lashes back with the intensity of a wolf!" 

Zura reeled back, fearing Ritheus would strike her in his rage. He may not want to take pleasure from her flesh, but nothing stopped him from beating her to balm the sore wounds inflicted by her people. 

But he didn't do anything. With a low growling breath, he calmed himself and turned away. He sat back down at the table and put his attention back to the map. 

Zura watched him again for a long while, eventually gathering the courage to say, "If you will not take me, what is to become of me this night?" 

"I must keep appearances for the sake of my men," Ritheus said. "Take the bed and rest yourself." 





Mercy



"Appearances?" 

"As a merciless warrior that shows the enemy no quarter; whether man, woman, or child." 

Looking at his arms, sculpted with muscle and adorned with scars, Zura said, "That hardly needs to be proven." 

"Do not speak to me again, or I may change my mind," Ritheus growled, turning back to the map. 

Zura did as she was told and crawled up into the bed. The furs and skins were nothing compared to the linens she was used to, but after days of trauma, mental and physical, the softness of the bed was a welcome sensation against her bruised and cold skin. Having had no proper rest in days and now confident that she would not be taken for the sick desires of the warriors of the camp, Zura quickly fell into much needed sleep. 

/ / / / / / / / / 

"Ritheus, you are called to the camp!" 

Zura bolted awake, finding herself in familiar chambers. For a moment, she hoped it had all been a dream... but as Ritheus stirred beside her, reality descended heavily. 

Ritheus stood and donned his bear mantle. He tossed Zura her scant tunic. "Get dressed and come with me." 

Zura did as told and followed. As Ritheus led her down the path towards the camp, she noted it was a little easier to walk. A bath, a good night's sleep, and respite from forceful entry had rejuvenated her body. She also noted how the other Goths shied away and parted as Ritheus approached. They averted their eyes and bowed their heads in respect, not even glancing twice at her, despite her near nudity. Zura entertained the idea that if perhaps if she could gain Ritheus' favor, he would continue to protect her from his subordinates. 

At the center of the camp, by the bonfire, Ritheus spoke to another Goth. "Why have I been summoned?" 

A scrawny Goth approached and beat his chest with his fist, the Goth's crude salute. "Ritheus, Chief Fritigern sends message that we pack camp and meet him at the next village." 

"Did he say why?" 

"We prepare to march upon Marcianople." 

Marciana? Zura thought. That was the largest city in the region, located south of her village. It was heavily fortified, surrounded by walls, and it garrisoned a Roman legion. Did the Goths have the numbers to make an attempt on such a place? 

She scoffed internally. She had witnessed firsthand that one Goth was more than equal to three Roman men. 

"Very well," Ritheus said. "Spread message to the rest of the camp. We will leave this village immediately and move on." 

With a salute, the warrior and a few of his fellows ran off. Ritheus turned to walk back to the villa, but nearly bumped into Zura who was standing behind him. It looked like he had forgotten she was even there. 

With a quick glance around at the other Goths and then at her fellow captive girls, Zura asked Ritheus, "And what is to become of me and your other prisoners? Will you release us when you move on?" 

A warrior herded the other girls to bonfire, pulling tightly at their shackles. Ritheus suddenly clamped an iron band on Zura's wrist. "No, you will be taken to the followers' camp." 

Zura looked down at her bound wrist desperately. "The followers' camp?" 

"Our elderly, our women, and what remains of our children," Ritheus answered. 

"What will happen to us there?" 

"You will live out the rest your lives as our slaves," Ritheus said coldly, absent emotion. 

"No..." Zura shook her head, praying to God it wasn't true. "Will..." 

Ritheus nodded grimly. "My men will come to you when they please." 

"No!" Zura screamed suddenly, tears coming to their eyes. "Don't let them take me again! Please!" 

Ritheus was steadfast, he only looked at her with a furrowed brow. 

"Please! Spare me!" Zura begged as flashes came to her mind, of the Goths forcing themselves on her, beating her senseless. She could not, would not, suffer a lifetime of being handled by rough unforgiving hands and being invaded by unwelcome barbarian flesh, especially knowing that one of among them had shown himself above such base behavior. She grabbed Ritheus' cloak, pleading. "Spare me! Don't let them take me! I cannot endure another day!" 

Zura had drawn a crowd with her desperate pleas. Gothic warriors and even the other whore-slaves watched her and Ritheus with attentive interest. 

"Please, show me the compassion you displayed last night! Do not damn me to a cursed fate at the hands of your men. Please, have mercy!" 

Ritheus looked down at the trembling, weaping, broken girl in front of him. "You wish for mercy?" he said, void of emotion. 

"Yes, please!" Zura cried desperately. 

Ritheus nodded, and Zura finally saw sympathy cast itself upon his features. A glimmer of hope upturned her cracked lips. 

Ritheus then drew a dagger from his belt and slit her throat. 

Author's Notes: 

So this is one of my first (public) attempts at a short story. My friends and watchers know that shorts and one-shots are not my forte... but I still wanted to give it a try. Sorry that it was so... dark. Gothic literature is my specialization in college, and I wanted to write a Gothic short story that actually had Goths! Also, along with Convalescent, I wanted to build up some writing samples so I can get accepted into my college's Master's Degree program for Creative Writing. 

Anyway, this story was inspired both by binging on the Spartacus TV show on Netflix (obviously), and a project I had to do for my Medieval Literature class. I had to study up on some historical context and present it to the class, and of course I choose Gothic Art. Everyone knows that Gothic architecture refers to dark imposing buildings with large pointy spires, wide arches, and gargoyles. They also know that it refers to morbid, depressing, grotesque, macabre, and horrific literature and paintings. 

What many people DON'T know, however, is that the term "Gothic" comes from a tribe of nomadic barbarians that actually had almost NOTHING to do with the art form. They frequently attacked Roman citizens and villages, so their name eventually became synonymous with "barbarian," "ugly," and "foreign." At the time when Roman art was at its peak, anything that deviated from what was "in vogue" was considered Gothic, whether or not it was actually made by Goths. The term "Gothic" was insulting and derogatory for nearly a thousand years. 

So yeah! The Goths were actually real people. As portrayed in the story, they lived in Northern Europe, but were constantly displaced by war. Eventually, in the 4th century, when the Huns came from Northern Asia (Russia), their kings were killed and their people were enslaved. A few tribes managed to escape south, towards the Roman Empire. At the time, the Empire was split up into two parts, the Western Roman Empire ruled by Emperor Augustulus, and the Eastern Roman Empire ruled by Emperor Valens. Although split up, they were still united, it was just that the Empire was so fucking big, they needed two dudes to rule it. 

Anyway, like it was mentioned in my story, the Goths fled from the Huns and asked for refuge on Roman land in Thrace. Emperor Valens said sure, but made the refugee camp more like an internment camp, guarded by Roman soldiers. The Romans starved the Goths, forcing them to sell their wives and children into slavery just to have food. One thing led to another, and the Goths were like "Enough of this shit!" So then they started plundering and pillaging the Thracian countryside. This is when my story takes place. I know my story takes the opposite position, but I'm very much pro-Goth. Viva la revolution! Slave rebellion, woo! Go underdogs! 

Eventually, the Goths became so successful with their plundering, they amassed a strong enough army to sack and capture the capital city of the Eastern Roman Empire, Adrianople. They even killed Emperor Valens. This power vacuum led to anarchy in the Eastern Roman Empire which in turn led to the Fall of the Roman Empire as a whole, a hundred years later (at the hands of Attila and the Huns.) 

I hoped you enjoyed my Gothic story about Goths! Lol! Please comment, and favorite if you enjoyed the story. Feedback and critiques are much appreciated. 

And here are just a few more notes for the sake of understanding the story... 

*Eastern Thrace, and the village of Silistra are located in present day Turkey, in a isthmus between the Aegean and Black Seas. 

*At this time, the Roman Empire included ALL of Mediterranean Europe, from the Atlantic Ocean to the Black Sea. They even had control of France and Britain. 

*By the 4th century, because of Emperor Constantine, the Roman Empire had abandoned paganism (multiple gods like Mars, Jupiter and Hercules) in favor of Christianity. 

*A strigil is a blunt blade Romans used to clean themselves, much like shaving.



Mercy



Phips felt the wind knocked out of him as she pressed him hard against the wall. He'd barely turned the key in the lock before she was on him pushing him through the opening door, kissing, her hands clawing over his shoulders and down to the hem of his T-shirt, her breath soft and hot as it flowed out of her nose.

He'd left his jacket and tie at the office, forgotten in his shock and the frenzy of wanting to get her away—someplace where he could have her all to himself.

In the car she had undone the buttons of his shirt one by one so that when they pulled into the driveway of his little house, he'd simple shrugged out of it and left it in the driver's seat as he'd chased her up the steps to the front door.

Her tongue pressed between his lips and he sucked on it, closing his eyes, listening as he heard her skillfully kick the door closed behind them. He pressed on her shoulders, and she pulled away with a sudden moan of disquiet.

"Wow, you're in a hurry," he said, jokingly straightening up and moving his arm around her waist lifting her lithe little frame up so that she was nearly on tip-toe.

She was light. He'd always imagined she would be—from the moment she'd distinguished herself in class, he'd imagined what it would be like to hold, her lift her up, feel her come down, her hips straddling his. All those smoldering stares, those little smiles he'd thought he'd imagined...

He ran a hand down and kneaded her buttocks through the denim of her jeans, breathing in the sweet smell of her. He kissed her slowly, patiently, and he could feel her squirming in his embrace. Her hands were at his shoulders and then at her side and then she was reaching up as if to hold his head in her palms but she thought better of it. He smiled at her awkward girlishness.

"Relax," he said, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers, smiling and watching her smile. "I'm not going to bite."

*****

He'd been working on the book for almost two years, spending his summers away from the college doing research in New England

It had been early in the fall, the leaves had not yet turned and he'd begun the year as he'd begun the last three, a few more chapters of his book completed and a full load of classes to teach. They'd given him a new office—smaller but he didn't have to share with anybody.

He'd noticed her in class, sitting at the back, her attention duly paid, her questions topical when she deigned to ask them. Of course, he'd noticed how pretty she was but the class was peppered with pretty girls and, after three years as a lecturer, he'd stopped fantasizing, for the most part, about having them.

"Superstition," he said, going into the familiar start of his opening lecture. "Folklore, Myth, the Occult, the Paranormal, the Preternatural," he'd turned from the whiteboard where he'd written his name. "What fascinates us about them? Why do these old wives' tales from the ancient traditions seem never to die but again be reborn and reanimated in our modern culture? Our pop-culture fascination with werewolves, vampires, ghost, goblins, and things that go bump in the night—it seems endless. And what draws you all, in your collegiate co-ed curiosity, to my class to learn about these mythical creatures?"

A few laughs and a few hands were raised. He called on a young man in the front.

"Immortality," the man said. "I think we all like them 'cause a lot of them can live forever."

Phips wagged a finger. "Not so," he said, checking the seating chart. "Mr. Butler, is it?"

The young man nodded.

"In fact, as we will learn, in most folklore the undead, as they are called, only rise to haunt the living for a brief period of days, weeks, or even months. Only very recently have the myths about vampires and werewolves evolved to include immortality as a requisite about the undead."

Walking around and leaning on the table at the front of the room, he pointed to another hand, a young woman with blonde hair.

"They're sexy," she said, in response, lowering her hand slowly. "Vampires, I mean. They have this sort of strong mojo that's so hot!"

Phips smiled, "You're confusing vampires with the actors who play them, Miss..." he looked down at the seating chart, "Miss Grayle." He folded his arms and continued. "In fact, most folklore concerning preternatural creatures describes them as grotesque—disembodied heads or rotting corpses with mangled, mutated features. The super-sexualized representation of the vampire in film and literature is something we can blame almost entirely on Bram Stoker."

Phips looked up to see the last hand, hers, halfway raised at the back. "Yes, Miss..." he looked at the chart, "...Miss Brown," he said, noting the interesting first name. "Miss Mercy Brown," he said it with a smile.

She lowered her hand, addressing her answer directly to him, leaning back in her chair in a way that came off as rebellious, as if she already knew all there was to know about this subject and him. "It's simply human nature to fear the unknown," she said, looking down to where she let her fingers trace a couple of little hearts carved into the wood of the little half-desk. "Things people don't understand they fear and label as magical or supernatural. We," she paused, "we don't know why we're afraid of the dark or why that fear intrigues us so. It... It just does."

Phips cocked his head, "Spooky," he said with a smile, aimed in her general direction.

The class laughed and he straightened and cleared his throat. "However, that is a bit of a philosophical truth. Perhaps factual events started these myths. In fact, perhaps all beliefs spread from some phenomenon we simply have yet to grasp as a culture. It is enthralling to think about it."

*****

It was three weeks into the semester when she came to his office. It was after the class meeting, around seven in the evening.

"Professor, can I speak to you?"

He nodded and pointed to the chair by the desk. He took out the package of Twizzlers he kept for students and offered her one. She took it and held it as she sat, letting her book bag drop to the floor beside her.

"What's up, Miss Brown?" Phips asked, leaning back in his desk chair and waiting.

She looked up from the uneaten Twizzlers in her hand, her green eyes meeting his brown ones. "I—I wanted to," she looked back down. "You're writing a book?"

Phips put his hands up on his head, studying her. "Who told you that?"

She shrugged. "I was just told you were writing one, does it matter who told me?"

Phips took his hands down and leaned forward. "It's not finished yet, so I don't like talking about it. Don't you have questions about the class?"

She reached out the hand with the Twizzler and let the red ropey candy lay on the edge of the desk. "What's the subject of the book, Mr. Phips?"

Phips' eyes narrowed and he shrugged, there was no harm in telling her, his author vanity could allow it. "Historical instances of vampirism... community reactions to said instances..."

"Specifically?" She looked up from her hands.

"I'm afraid I don't like to..."

"Exeter?"

Phips smirked, "Good guess. Of course, Exeter, Rhode Island is the site of the most famous case of documented vampirism in the United States..."

"Shut up, please."

Phips stopped talking, his mouth poised open, his breath caught at the suddenness of the order. He'd never been ordered to do anything by a student. She stood, putting her hands in the pockets of her blue jeans.

Phips let his jaw jut out a touch, showing he was thinking. He stood and walked to the door of the office and shut it, turning and leaning against the frame. "I've only told two people about my work, my brother, and a librarian in Exeter township. How do you know about..."

"You told your brother through e-mail. We intercepted it."

"We?"

She looked up. "Don't ask questions," she stood and made a few small steps away and then back, as if trying to pace in the confined space. "We mean you no harm. We never have. Like your forefathers, we came here to start life anew, for we are alive and have always been, though we have been persecuted for our differences..."

"What are you talking..."

"You cannot finish your book, Jonathan Phips. I am sorry to be the one to bring you this mandate, but it is for your safety as well as ours that we ask you to desist."

"Miss Brown, I..."

"My name is Mercy."

Phips nodded, and then shook his head. "An interesting name..."

"My father's name was George, and I had two sisters and a brother..." Her eyes narrowed, as she folded her arms awaiting reply.

"Edwin?"

She nodded. "I understand you've discovered his diary."

Phips nodded. "This is all very amusing and imaginative, but..."

"It is also very amusing that you of all people don't believe me, Mr. Phips." Her gaze seemed to pierce him somehow. "You've read the diary."

"It's a diary kept by a very weak, sick, young man living in a town overcome with hysteria."

"And yet he describes the visitations so vividly, doesn't he?" She let her fingers trail along the seam of her blue jeans. "I'm telling you the truth, Professor. I am Mercy Brown."

"Mercy Brown was a scapegoated corpse. She died in 1891 at the age of 19 from consumption. Now, if you would be so kind as to..."

She leapt at him then, grabbing his left ear with her hand and jerking his head at an angle so that pain shot through him. He wanted to scream out in agony but couldn't—he found himself unable to let out anything but air as a pressure built up at the side of his throat. In a second the pressure was gone and he was on the floor, his legs having buckled underneath him, and she having cradled him as he fell. She knelt in front of him, wiping her lips with a Kleenex.

He looked at her pale, innocent face with horror, trying to scream but unable to.

"Don't panic," she said, putting her fingers to his neck and feeling his pulse as she checked his pulse against her wristwatch. "If you elevate your heart rate too much you'll pass out."

She settled down on the carpet in front of him, crossing her legs and putting her elbows on her knees. "Your voice will return in a few minutes, it's a side effect of the venom. It anesthetizes so that you won't feel pain and so you can't raise an alarm." 

She reached out and touched his wrist. "You'll be fine, though, so long as you don't panic and you listen to my voice. Can you do that for me, Jonathan? Nod, if you can do that for me."

He nodded, still wide-eyed and confused.

She uncrossed her legs and pulled her legs up to her chest. "You're afraid, I understand. That's fine, Jonathan. In fact it's good to be afraid—not just of me but the powers that I represent. I am not alone, Jonathan. Behind me is a large community and they wish to make it known to you that they value their privacy more than they do the life of a 28-year old lecturer at a second rate university."

"Guuph," Phips croaked, most of the air coming out of his nose instead of his mouth.

She leaned forward and covered his mouth with her hand. He looked down at her teeth, they seemed like ordinary teeth but as her face came closer he could see the fangs, four of them, two on each side of the roof of the mouth. She shushed him, and ran her cheek over his forehead, as if she were a mother soothing an infant, she positioned herself so that her thighs straddled his pelvis as she cradled his head against her breast.

"They, however, will not harm you. I won't let them, you are safe, Jonathan Phips."

"W-why?" it was a hoarse whisper, but his voice was returning.

She leaned back and smiled. "Can't a girl have a crush on her professor?"

"N-no, seriously," it was getting some of its timber back. "Why?"

"Because you will do what I say when you find out what it is I can offer you in exchange for your silence."

"I—Immortality?"

She leaned in and kissed the patch of neck that was already beginning to heal as the venom dissolved in his bloodstream. "If you decide you truly want it, we shall see about it in time. For now, I offer you information—knowledge, Jonathan, of the things you have studied all of your adult life. Our race has a wealth of information that humans have thought lost for eons. We are keepers of the forgotten secrets and these secrets I will share with you if you give up your book and swear on your own blood that you will never, ever, ever take up and write down what you have discovered."

"S—so, you think you can just make me promise not to write about you and you'll trust me to keep my word?"

"Yes, now be silent." She leaned down and pressed her lips to his, cupping his face in her hands as he felt his own hands move up to her hips. She rocked slightly over his lap and the two of them felt his arousal growing between them.

"I-is this a side effect of the venom, too?" he asked, as her kisses moved around to his ear. He felt her nibbling there before she let out a small laugh.

"No," she said. "This is something I've just wanted to do since I first saw you. You're a very attractive boy, Jonathan."

"I—I..." he was cut off by another sudden deep kiss, and he sat up, pushing her back until she was on the floor. He repositioned himself so that he was on top of her, putting a hand up on his desk as if to balance himself.

"Careful, you're still light-headed," she smirked.

"How old are you?" he asked, looking into her eyes as he inched his hand along his desk toward the edge where the drawer was cracked slightly open.

She ran her fingers up along the side of his face, studying his expression with a bit of amusement. "Let's just go with older than you, Johnny." She smirked. "You don't mind if I call you Johnny, do you? It suits your face so well."

"Not at all..." His hand was nearly at the drawer.

"What do you think you stealthily reaching for?" She reached up and opened the drawer, taking out the little rosary, and playing with the beads; her long, pale fingers intertwining with them. "You're a Catholic?"

"Lapsed," he said. "I—I'm sorry, I..."

"Don't worry about it," she said, handing him the talisman. "It's a shock. You're not going to be doing anything too rational for a few days." She put her hands behind her head and lay back on the carpet. "My advice though, is to just go with it."

"I see," he said. "So since you bit me..."

"No," she cut him off, already knowing the question. "You're going to be human as long as you want to be, Johnny." She giggled, "I'm not that kind of girl, anyway. I have to get to know you better.

He looked down at her, he couldn't help but smile at her. There was everything in her all at once, the youthful appearance of a young woman, the anticipations, calculations and patience of someone very wise. When she laughed it was a nice lovable sound.

"So, you came here to tell me to stop writing the book and you just happened to fall for me on site?"

She sighed. "Creature of whimsy," she said, and leaned up to put her elbows underneath her. I'd been watching you for a few months beforehand, too. You're a solitary type, you love books and you like to travel to odd places to do your odd research. And though your information is very wrong, you're enamored of your subject and that's endearing, considering I am one of your subjects."

"I still don't believe you're real."

She reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "Take me back to your place," she said. "I'll show you how real I can be."

*****

They hadn't made it past the doorway to the bedroom. She'd wheeled and grabbed him to her in animalistic passion and he, realizing she was stronger, let himself be grabbed. He was on the floor and his T-shirt was pulled up to his chin. He felt a little stab of pain, and then a bit of pressure over his left nipple. He could feel her moaning as she took a little bit of his blood.

He gripped her by the hair and she released, pulling up licking her lips as she came up to kiss him. He tasted it, the slight metallic flavor of his own blood mingled with her saliva. Her eyes were glistening even in the darkness of the house. There hadn't been time to turn on any lights, too captivated were they with one another to be bothered.

She took the hem of her own T-shirt and pulled it up over her head, tousling her dark brown curls before tossing the shirt away and pinning his wrists over his head, running her tongue lightly over the skin of his jawbone, tasting his sweat and smelling his shaving lotion.

He could hear something low, guttural, like a purring coming from deep within her as she nuzzled and basked in his helplessness. He struggled and she laughed a bit before whispering. "I guess you'll just have to lie there and take what I give, huh, Professor?"

She brought her face back and looked down at him, her smile fading to one of appraisal. After a moment she let his wrists go, sitting up and putting her hands to her flushed face. "Sorry," she said. "I-I didn't mean..."

He sat up and ran his hands up her bare back to the hooks on her bra. "It's okay."

She felt his lips against the skin at the top of her breasts as he took the bra down, the straps coming off her shoulders. She felt the lips move to cover her own nipple. "I-It's just been..." she let out a breath of air as he sucked the nipple between his teeth and bit down gently on it. "Shhh, ah. It's been a long time since I was with a human."

Phips paused in his kissing. "Oh?" he pecked along her breast bone, saying the words between kisses. "When was... the last time?"

She felt his hands kneading her muscles, running up over her spine between her shoulder blades. "Oh, 1908-09, somewhere in there."

He paused and looked up at her.

She shrugged, "You know how it is, every century or so, you've got to let your hair down."

They laughed and he pressed her up, her feet came under her and then she helped him up. They moved into the bedroom, she leading him by the hand. She sat on the edge of the bed and undid his belt and unbuttoned his trousers.

She didn't bother with the subterfuge of stroking him through the fabric of his boxers, he was already aroused. She simply slipped the elastic down over his hips and took him into her mouth.

He gasped at the sensation of her tongue moving over the slit at the tip and then, as she took the length of him down her throat, that same tongue licking along the base of his shaft just above the skin of his scrotum. His knees were weak when she came up for air and he moved his hand down her back over the little bumps along her spine to where her blue jeans puckered. He let his hand slip down and inside the elastic of her panties as she took his length again. He felt her moaning around his growing girth as he felt the moisture beneath her. He groaned as he felt the length of his member unsheathed once more and she, gasping, lay back on the bed, her hands falling back across the comforter as his hands went to unbutton the fly of her jeans. He pulled them down, nibbling at the skin of her abdomen, listening to her laughter.

"That tickles."

He ripped away the panties, and gazed upon her now naked body. She was small and her skin was smooth and white. It seemed that all the light in the room existed just to illuminate her pale skin against the dark blue of the comforter. He ran a hand over her skin, feeling its coolness against his palm and the solidness of the muscles of her thighs and lower abdomen under that skin.

Her hand was over his in an instant, guiding it down to the neatly trimmed tuft of dark hair. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against her opening, sucking lightly along her outer lips, kissing, licking, then sucking before using his fingers to part her lips as he dipped his tongue inside of her. He savored her as he found her little pleasure button and worked, listening to her panting until he was rewarded with the little flow of juices against his lips and chin. He lapped them hungrily, as hungrily as she had lapped at his wounds for his blood and, when he was finished, he lay atop her, pressing the head of his throbbing cock inside of her. 




Mercy



As he entered her, she let out a little howl, the whole of him filling her up, followed by his slow rhythmic thrusts. His hand spread across her stomach, pulling her onto the hot throbbing prick as he bucked sideways into her. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations of heat, moisture, the dryness of her mouth as she breathed in fast sharp little breaths. She listened to the slap-slap-slapping of his balls against her and then she lost herself, rolling over, pinning him, straddling him, clawing his shoulders as she thrust her pelvis down on him, burying him deep, holding him inside of her. 

In seconds she felt the pressure of her orgasm building up, she leaned down, pressing her lips to his neck once more, feeling the fangs descend into the warmth of his veins. She felt the lovely flood of his blood, tasted its sweetness, felt the thirst in her abate just in time for the lust in her to rise up and explode just as she heard him moaning and then felt his own eruption deep inside her. 

***** 

Lying there, drenched in sweat, his vision a bit blurred, he could feel her curling up beside him. Her hand on his bare chest and her breathing in his ear. He was so tired, drained, exhausted.

"Sleep," she whispered. "In the morning I'll make you breakfast."

He felt her kiss his ear and then, as his eyes closed, he felt her head rest on his shoulder. It was a moment before he felt himself able to talk again, and when he did it was as he was half-asleep.

"Mercy," he said, "I won't write the book."

She stroked his hair and sighed. "I know. The others will thank you, I'm sure. Now sleep."

And with that, he let the darkness of the deep sleep envelop him, sucking him down into a blissful oblivion in the arms of the vampire. He sighed in his sleep as Mercy stood up and went out into the den. She felt the cold in the room against her bare skin, but she didn't shiver. She picked up the television remote and turned on the late night movie. She never slept.



Mercy



"He looked at me and said, all serious like, 'Madam, I want your company not your pussy."

"Why didn't he want your pussy, was he a fuckin' faggot?" said Nubia.

"No," said Martha Adams as she spotted Mark Morris looking at them, her, Nubia, Michelle, and Cloris, sitting all in a row at the County office on Tulome, talking about Martha's date the Saturday before. Martha glared at Mark as she had done with her children when they were small. This broke his stare as he mustered a slight shy smile and diverted his eyes back to the current issue of The New York Review of Books. Martha turned her head to Nubia and whispered ,"He said that he wanted a friend before a fuck buddy."

"...and what is wrong with a fuck buddy at least a woman can get some without all the other shit men put us thru."

`"Amen to that sister." Michelle and Cloris chimed in."

"No, he didn't want sex, he wanted connection."

"That is a fancy word for fucking; all men think about is getting pussy, just like my uncle Fred's old coon hound. That dog humped every bitch human or dog in three counties. My uncle had his balls cut off and that hound still humped. That's how he died humping a... ." said Nubia.

"Are we talking about your uncle or the hound," Cloris said

"Both. Uncle Fred died of a heart attack while he was at Susie's down near the river back home. My momma said that when he died all the dogs howled together, like they were treein' a coon. "Cloris, and Michelle all were holding the laughter back so hard that tears were streaming down their faces. Finally Cloris then Michelle broke into laughter and laughed so hard that the whole office heard it. A heavy sister behind the counter looked at them, smiled and said," Ladies can we keep it down there."

"Yes we will," Martha sternly said. As she waited for the women to compose themselves she glanced at Mark. He was staring down at the paper with his lips stretched in a smile and turning bright red. Martha got up and walked over to him. She picked up a canvas messenger bag that was in the seat next to him and sat down. He took the bag and put it in a empty seat on the other side of him. Mark looked into her eyes and smiled, Martha smiled back.

"We are pretty silly aren't we? 

"Yes you are."

"What do you have in the bag?"

"A book of short stories by Rick Bass and a short story I am working on."

"You a writer?"

"Yes, I am."

"Been published?"

"Not yet."

"How long have you been writing?'

"About 40 years."

"And you haven't been published?"

"A couple of small press things but nothing too big."

"Long time to wait for a drink from the well."

"Yes it is."

"Do you love doing it."

"It is not a matter of love it is just something I do, like cleaning the kitchen or building furniture."

"So you think all men think about is pussy." Said Martha as if the word "pussy" was a name for her child or grandchild, a word. No more, no less.

"I would have to say yes."

"You are not supposed to say that. You are supposed to lie."

"Why?"

"Women want the chase to be coy. They don't want to tell some poor fool that they are not going to fuck him because it might hurt his feelings. Only when the fool demands pussy do they finally realize if they are going to fuck him are not. If they were honest with themselves they would have to tell that they knew were going to fuck him within the first 3 minutes that they met him. We be a bunch of cold hearted bitches."

"You said it." said Mark.

"You've been burned too?"

"Yeah."

"How bad?"

"Not too."

"How long were you two together?"

"13 years too long."

"Any kids?"

"Yeah two boys, 13 and 17."

"What was the problem?

"I couldn't sit through 3 hour dinner parties," Mark said underneath his breathe. Shifting his weigh he moved his thousand yard stare to Martha's face. "I don't want to talk about it. Let's say that I was not a gentleman and she wasn't a lady. So what is your story"

"Got married in high school to the first boy I slept with. 20 years, two girls, house etc. Everything was going fine until he comes up to me and he says that he wants a divorce, been going down low ever since we were married. He said that he found his "true" love. I yelled at him, "I thought I was!" Tears formed in Martha's eyes as she whispered, "Loved that man with all my heart and soul. I could have stomached a woman, but dudes! Fucking faggot!"

"Pretty harsh isn't it?"

"Listen, dude, my x was out fucking boys bareback before he would come back and do me without a rubber. Dude I could have died! "

Mark saw the pain running wild and deep in her iris and knew that anything he would say would miss the mark.

"So women are bitches and men are assholes?"

Martha nodded yes.

"So why," said Mark

"Why what," said Martha.

'Why love," said Mark.

"We are NOT talking about love, we are talking about pussy."

"Then, what about love?"

"What about it?"

"Do you think people need it," asked Mark Morris.

"Yeah I do. People need to love and be loved and yet they don't want the pain of 

being vulnerable. You can't have one without the other."

"Was your husband vulnerable."

"No he wasn't, he wouldn't, he couldn't, let me in. When he found someone he could, he did and couldn't lie about being queer any longer."

"What about your marriage, the kids?"

"Just that. Marriage and kids. Things. You don't have to love to be married or have children ... they lied to us."

"Who?"

"Society, our parents."

"Maybe so." said Mark. "At the least it was a sin of omission, they thought they were protecting us from the ugliness."

"Did we do that to our children," wondered Martha out loud.

"No, we divorced before they got out of grade school and came out of the closet before Junior High. We scared them by our authenticity. They were the collateral damage of our lives. How come the innocent get hurt," whispered Mark.

"I don't know."

"What about pussy," asked Mark quizzically?

"What about it?"

"What does the hunt for pussy has to do with love, "said Mark

"Really nothing. Men confuse their need for connection with their need to find something warm and wet for their little heads. Women do the same. They may paint it up and make a loud fuss about it when it ends, but it's still the same, just trying not to be alone.

"I listen to this motivational speaker who says that he firmly believes people are trying to seek the divine through love."

"That is probably true, writer-man," chuckled Martha.

"What is so funny?"

"I can track the finding thru love part, but I can't imagine trying to find God through fucking."

"Me neither, but I think he must be meaning the love without the sex."

"All work and no sugar......naw can't hang."

There was nothing to talk about, for now, and both of them felt it. They watched the Disney film on the TV and smiled. Both of them thought of when they saw the film for the first time, when their children were young enough to see it. Both smiled deep smiles of remembrance and regret at what was said and wasn't said, done and wasn't done; as all parents do when their children are grown.

Mark felt escape pulling him away from a simple memory of things past and to the pain that would follow. He tried to fight and stay with the memory knowing the pain and healing would follow, but his mouth fell open and out ran.

"When was the last you got laid?"

Martha kept her shock to herself and lied, "last week. Why?"

"It has been six years for me."

"A little too long isn't it, everything alright?"

"I don't know, the only woman I was with in the last twenty years was my X and..."

"...you felt guilty if you thought of yourself with another woman," interrupted Martha.

"No, not guilty, more like a fool. A fool for putting up with fifteen years of bullshit and lousy sex."

"That bad?"

"God love her she tired, but we just didn't fit. She had only a couple of men before we met and I played sailor in the whore houses of the Far East for ten years. We couldn't sync. When she wanted to do it I was too tired and when I wanted to get kinky she wouldn't even try, called me a pedophile."

"For what?"

"Asking her to shave her pussy?"

"What she have against it, it is only hair?"

"She said it made her a little girl,"

"Did you shave?"

"Not then, I do now."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you shave, now."

"Because it feels clean. Also, my eye sight is getting so bad that I couldn't find it in the bush, so I had to shave it off. And 300 count sheets feel so good on my freshly shaved balls," Mark laughed as he met Martha's eyes in a frightened vulnerable stare. Martha saw it and didn't gasp in horror, but smiled. 

"Poor man," she muttered.

Just then one of the clerks called over the PA," Number 62"

"That's my number," said Mark rising and grabbing his bag.

"What are you doing tonight for supper," said Martha

"Nothing."

"Want a home cooked meal?"

"Does a bear shit in the woods," said Mark.

"Then call me at this number ,"Martha said as she scribbled down a number on a slip of paper. She handed Mark it on his way to the window and quietly said, " bring your tooth brush." 

She walked back to the girls and set down.

"Well," questioned Nubia?

"He is coming for supper."

"And then what.'

"We are going to fuck."

"Why?"

"He needs it."

"And you are giving it away for free.. I suspect."

"Some of us have mercy."

"Have or need, "questioned Nubia.

"Maybe both." said Martha.

END.



Mercy



I was sitting at the edge of the bed, working on something on my laptop. Jordan was laying back, her head on the pillow, alternately reading a book and watching television. Perhaps I wasn't paying enough attention to her. More likely, I had replied sarcastically to something she said. Possibly with a hint of chauvinism (I was wont to do that now and then to get a rise out her). I may have even made a joke at her expense. I was well aware, nonetheless, that I deserved it when the pillow struck the back of my head.

I turned toward her grabbing the pillow and fixing her with the most menacing glare I could muster. She stuck her ground, smiling sweetly at me. Her eyebrows raised, silently asking me, 'what?'

"I'm trying to get this done," I told her, trying to sound stern as I tossed the pillow back to her. 

Soon after turning back to my work, I heard a muffled giggle, followed shortly thereafter with the strike of the pillow to the back of my head, harder this time. I quickly placed the laptop on the floor at the foot of the bed and spun toward her. She didn't have time to react as I quickly pounced on her, straddling her torso.

She struggled vainly as I held the pillow aloft. Glaring down at her, I told her to behave. She bucked harder under me, but my weight was too much for her. I tossed the pillow beside her head and rolled off her. "Don't make me play dirty," I added, in hindsight this was adding fuel to the fire and to be honest, I was probably aware of that then as well.

She never gave me a chance to retrieve my laptop, striking my head with a solid blow from the pillow once again. I wheeled quickly on the bed to find her laying back, laughing uncontrollably. I may never know her motives, or whether she truly thought I wouldn't respond as I did, but her defenses were down and I took full advantage. 

I, once again, straddled her torso, this time pinning her arms to her sides. Her giggling stopped suddenly when I hovered both hands near her sides and wiggled my fingers, silently threatening tickling. 

"No," she said pleadingly.

"Are you gonna knock it off and behave," I asked.

She responded by bucking her hips hard, nearly catching me off guard with the force of it. I recovered and began tickling her torso. She thrashed beneath me, laughing nearly to the point of tears. Her situation was hopeless, I was twice her size and had her arms pinned, she was at my mercy and the look on her face showed she was well aware of that fact.

"STOP!" she managed to cough out between laughing fits. I lifted my fingers off her and stared down at her.

"Are you gonna behave," I asked again. She glared at me silently.

"Jordan, are you done?" Again, my query was met with silence and a deepening glare.

"Fine," I said and resumed tickling her. Her shrieks filled the room. She thrashed violently beneath me. I had to hand it to her, she was a fighter. She was not going to give up easily. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she searched for a way to gain the upper hand. I was equally resolved in not losing it.

After awhile her struggling ceased, she was again able to cough out one word, "OK."

Stopping my tickling assault, my eyes met hers and I said, "Had enough, Jordan? Do you give?"

She glared at me once more, I glared right back. "I can keep this up all night, baby," I told her, "Just say you give and I'll stop."

Taking a deep breath she locked her gaze on me and muttered, "Fine."

"Fine what," I asked. Her gaze narrowed. "Say it, Jordan. Say you give up." Her eyes bore holes into me, I pushed it further and lowered my hands to her sides again.

"Jaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkke," she pleaded.

"Jordan," I said softly, "All you have to do is say you give and I won."

She made an indignant sound and stared up at me. I slowly splayed my fingers open on her torso with a grin.

"Fine, fine, fine," she muttered as her own grin flashed across face, "I won."

I chuckled and resumed tickling. She did her best not to react, but I could feel the gentle movement of her hips beneath me. Determined to up the ante, I raised one hand from her torso to her chest. Finding her nipple through the t-shirt she wore to bed, I pinched it between my fingers. I wasn't surprised to find it already hardened.

"Arghhhh," she groaned.

I pinched harder, harder in fact than I ever have. I could see a slight wince cross her face. "Just say, Jake...I give up...you're the best baby," I said with a grin, thinking I was close to breaking her.

"God, it gets worse every time," she complained.

I tightened my grip on her nipple and she groaned. The idea suddenly came to me. I'm not sure she noticed the grin that lit my face as the thought formed, if she had, she probably would have begun struggling to free herself with renewed vigor.

Keeping her nipple pinched between my fingers, I lowered my lips to her ear. "Mercy, Jordan," I whispered, "One word and this can all be over, baby."

Her eyes met mine as I rose back above her. "Please," she breathed.

I shook my head. "Mercy," I said, "Ask and it shall be yours."

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she heard my newest demand. To push the matter, I slowly started twisting her nipple between my pinching fingers.

"One word, baby. That's all I want."

Her eyes shot open and flashed her renewed resolve. I hadn't conquered her yet. Keeping my fingers on her nipple, I reached back with my free hand and slowly ran the fingertips up her thigh.

"Mercy, Jordan" I whispered.

The look in her eyes told me she knew where my fingers were heading. She let out and exasperated sigh and raised her eyes to mine.

"Fine, come here" she said. I know she wanted me to believe she just wanted to whisper her acquiescence but I took note of the absence of defeat in her eyes. I lowered my head cautiously.

"Closer," she whispered. I lowered more.

"Closer, baby."

My face was now mere inches from hers, I moved my hands to her shoulders and held her to the bed. As her neck craned upward and her lips approached mine, I caught sight of her curving smile. My wits aroused, I was able to pull my face back in the nick of time, my lips barely grazing her parted ones and escaping what I'm sure would have been a death lock on mine.

She groaned in frustration at my escape, but I didn't give her time to dwell on it. My fingers pinched tightly on her nipple, as I shifted my body to allow my other hand to find their way between her legs. My fingers encountered her soaked thong and stroked firmly over it.

She suddenly realized that when my body shifted it had freed her arm. She quickly shot her hand under my t-shirt and found the ring in my nipple. It was a noble, if feeble attempt to halt the inevitable. 

I gritted my teeth at the sensation of her tugging my nipple ring and ran my fingers more firmly over her thong, pushing deeper into her slit with each pass. I stopped pinching her nipple and merely stroked my thumb over the hardened nub. I watched her face as my hand teased over the soaked fabric covering her sex.

Soon, her tugging on my nipple ceased and she merely held the ring between her fingers. Her eyes had closed and her head tilted back. Small moans escaped her lips. I could feel her hips slowly gyrating under me. When I was sure she was past the point of no return, I suddenly withdrew my hands from her body.

Her eyes shot open. "Awwwwwww, Jake," she moaned, "Pleassssssseeeeee." She tugged hard on my nipple ring for emphasis.

I suppressed my own groan and locked my eyes with hers. "You know what I want, Jordan" I said with a grin.

"Jake!" she wailed, "That's mean."

"Mercy, baby."

"Grrrrrrrr," she growled. I could feel her hips rising off the bed, desperately seeking some form of release. I held firm.

"Mercy, Jordan" I said once again. I lowered my hand back to her chest and slowly ran my palm back and forth over her nipple. She moaned at this touch, but it was halfhearted. She needed more.

"Baby," she pleaded. I returned her silence from earlier. A look of resignation crossed her face. She was torn between her pride and her need. When my thumb flicked over hardened nipple she lost all her remaining resolve.

"Mercy."

It was a barely audible whisper. My lips curled in a satisfied smile. She looked at me as if to say, 'are you happy now?'

A new flash of brilliance crossed my mind at that moment. I shifted my body forward until I was straddling her chest. I could feel her breasts against my inner thigh, rising and falling with her heavy breathing.

"You know, baby" I said, "They say to the victor go the spoils."

I was grinning broadly when her eyes met mine. I lifted up onto my knees slightly and made a show of slowly pushing my boxers down until my hard cock sprang free. Her eyes lit up and she swallowed deeply when she realized what I had in mind.

When I reached down and grasped my turgid shaft, she moaned softly. I shifted forward some more and guided my erection toward her lips. She kept her lips pursed as I ran the head over them. Slowly they parted as I pushed my cock head against them. After her initial resistance (if it was that at all) she opened her mouth completely and allowed my cock entrance.

Almost immediately her lips closed tight around my shaft and she began sucking without moving her head. I groaned at the feeling. I kept inching my hips forward, pushing my cock deeper into her warm wet mouth. I soon felt her lips sliding up and down my shaft, her tongue lashing the underside.

My hips soon began moving back and forth, slowly at first, meeting her own movements. The head of my cock pushed against her throat and she gagged slightly. She pulled her head back until just the head was between her lips and suckled. I couldn't hold back the moan this time. She gave the head a few loving licks before taking me into her mouth again.

As my cock slid deeper, her hand reached around to my ass and squeezed, urging me deeper. As I reached her throat it relaxed and I sank deeper still. I groaned loudly as her throat muscles massaged my throbbing cock. Without the conscious thought I was soon thrusting my hips, my cock sliding in and out of her mouth, pushing into her throat and feeling her tongue drag along the underside on its way back. She began making appreciative little noises as she lavished my cock lovingly.

After awhile, I could feel myself nearing the point she was at not so long ago. I thought briefly how I would love to cum in her mouth and see my seed escaping her lips and running down her chin, but I was determined to claim all my spoils from this victory.

With some effort, I was able to extract my cock from her wonderful mouth. She let out a disappointed groan as I rolled off her, kicking my boxers completely off. I tugged my t-shirt over my head and lay on my back.

"Get that thong off and get over here," I ordered.

She stood and quickly pushed her soaked thong down and kicked it aside. After pulling her own t-shirt off she crawled across the bed toward me, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Where," she asked.

"Right here," I said, indicating my face as I held my cock upright enticing her. She swung her leg over my head and slowly settled onto my face. I immediately pushed my tongue into her wet pussy and licked the length of her slit. She moaned louder and louder as my tongue pushed deeper. I was aware of my cock being unattended and pulled my face back.

"Remember I won, baby" I said as I waved my hard cock side to side. Her mouth immediately descended onto me and her hand replaced mine around my shaft. 

I busied myself with lapping up her flowing wetness. My face was covered with her. My tongue darted through her smooth pussy again and again. I was vaguely aware of her mouth gliding up and down my shaft. When my tongue touched her clit, I felt her moan around my throbbing cock.

As my oral assault became more aggressive, she pulled me from her mouth and stroked my shaft in time with my tongue on her pussy. Her moans of pleasure filled the room. My hands found her ass and pulled her pussy tighter to my mouth, I greedily sucked in all I could. Her taste was intoxicating.

Her mouth descended again, this time finding my balls and bathing them with her tongue. I groaned into her pussy. My hands were now squeezing her ass cheeks as I sucked her clit between my lips. She moaned loudly against my balls before sucking one into her mouth. I could feel her breasts and hard nipples dragging over my stomach as she rocked back and forth on my tongue. As the pleasure overtook her she pushed herself up from my cock, while continuing to stroke it.

I spread her ass cheeks and pushed my fingers in between. As my fingertip teased her asshole she rocked harder on my face. I could tell she was getting close as I slowly pushed my finger into her ass.

"Oh, God" she screamed, "FUCK! Jake, baby!"

I kept lashing her pussy with my tongue, while sliding my finger in and out of her ass. She kept rocking back and forth, moaning louder and louder. I knew she was on the edge.

"Fuck baby, I'm so fucking close. Don't stop."

I took those words as my cue and pulled my finger from her ass and pushed her off my face. She groaned in disappointment as I rolled out from under her and rose to my knees. I pointed to the headboard of the bed as I moved around her.

"Grab that baby," I said. 

She obediently grabbed the headboard with both hands and I closed in behind her. With one hand on her hips I guided my cock to her pussy and buried myself with one hard thrust.

"FUCK," she screamed as my hips slammed against her ass, burying my cock fully inside her. I wasted little time establishing a rhythm, pounding my cock in and out of her. She pushed back against me enthusiastically as I fucked her.

Our flesh slapped together louder and louder. The only words escaping her lips were fuck and yes, over and over in some variation. I was grunting as I slammed my cock into her pussy harder and harder.

Eventually, her hands dropped from the headboard and her head lowered to the bed. She continued to weakly try to push back against my assault, but all her strength seemed to have drained from her. I held her hips firmly as I kept pumping her steaming pussy.

Knowing my own stamina was sapping, I finally grunted, "Cum for me baby. Cum on my cock. Cum Jordan. NOW!"

As soon as those words left my mouth she had pushed herself up on all fours and screamed loudly as her pussy tightened its grip on my shaft. I slowed my thrusts to a stop as her pussy flooded my cock. 

When her body stopped shaking from her orgasm, she began pushing back against me again.I quickly pulled my cock from her pussy and pushed it between her ass cheeks. Her cheeks became lubricated with her own wetness. She turned her head and our eyes met. I saw her recognition of my intentions.

"You okay baby," I asked.

"Oh god yes," she groaned, "Do it. Fuck my ass baby. Fuck me."

I needed no further encouragement and quickly spread her ass cheeks and guided my cock head between them. I pushed firmly, but gently against her asshole until it relaxed and I was able to slip in. She loudly sucked in a deep breath as my cock slowly entered her ass. I held still when I was fully embedded inside her, allowing her to adjust and relax.

Once her ass relaxed I began thrusting slowly in and out. It was so tight around my shaft. I didn't want to hurt her, this may be my spoils but I wanted her to enjoy it. I need not have worried. In moments she was pushing back against me and we developed a steady rhythm.

Her upper body, once again, fell to the bed, her strength and stamina finally deserting her. I thrust into her with long deep strokes, my hips slapping against her, pushing her forward.

My own strength was rapidly waning. I thrust a few more times, before burying my cock deep in her ass.

"Fuck," I groaned, "I'm gonna cum baby."

I heard her moan and felt her body shake softly as I'm sure she was cumming again. I felt my shaft swell inside her and my first rope of cum shot into her ass. Using all the energy I could muster, I pulled my cock from her ass and finished shooting my seed across her ass cheeks and back. 

My whole body shook as I came down from my orgasm. I settled my shaft between her ass cheeks and slowly slid it up and down. After a moment or two, I leaned over her exhausted body and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, then her cheek. I then collapsed beside her, breathing heavily.

Her body dropped completely to the bed and she rolled beside me, her arm draping over my heaving chest. She scooted closer and softly kissed my collarbone before turning her eyes up to mine. With a weak smile and a glint her eye, she spoke one word.

"Mercy."



Mercy



Huddled in the hastily emptied wooden chest, the crouching woman listened with fear as her village was sacked. Her hut lay a bit apart from the ring of homes around the commons. She was a weaver and traded her skill for meat and milk and cheese. Still, the clanging of weapons, rending of wooden doors and walls, and worst of all the screams roared in her ears. These were not neighboring soldiers in a land dispute, she recognized only a few of the words shouted by their attackers -- definitely Norse.

Sooner than she expected, she heard the unbarred door slamming open: barring it would only mean she'd need a new one. She held her breath and clutched her right fist, knowing the chest would attract immediate attention from looters. That was her plan.  

Footsteps clunked across the floor and the chest shifted slightly as it was kicked. Not waiting for the lid to open, she sprang up and stabbed her enemy. She was rewarded with a shout of pain and she shoved hard past the distracted warrior toward her door. She felt herself swung around by the sleeve almost immediately. Shit shit shit. She pulled loose, but the force of the swing slammed her into the wall. Recovering her balance, she gasped in terror at the vision of a broad axeman stalking toward her, whipping off a bloodied helm and drawing his sword.

She cried out in the foreign tongue, praying that the word meant what her grandmother claimed it did. And that it would be heeded.

Gunnarr closed in for the kill, blinking blood out of his left eye, but slowed in confusion when he heard a shout that somehow disoriented him. When it was repeated, he realized that he was hearing his own language from an enemy villager far from his home. The word was distorted, but repetition and the setting drove its meaning home.

"Mercy!" Grainne cried out desperately as the livid and bleeding warrior approached, "Mercy, mercy, mercy!" 

She caught the man's eye and dropped her dagger, then straightened and placed her hands, palms forward, on the wall beside her head to show they were empty and she was willing to surrender. His furious expression changed only slightly, remaining brutal enough to rip the air from her lungs. The resulting softening of her voice likely saved her life.

"You want MERCY, do you, after stabbing me? What kind of MERCY was that? I almost lost an eye. Oh, you drop the dagger NOW. Not convincing." 

Deliberately keeping eye contact despite her fear, Grainne spoke the word over and over in an increasingly breathless tone, nodding eagerly when the warrior repeated it. Only blissful ignorance of the rest of his meaning allowed her to concentrate. She did her best to convey calm, as she would to soothe a young child or frightened animal wordlessly, hoping it would catch like a yawn as it often did. Her hope increased as the warrior kept his sword pointed down and actually dropped his axe, though he strode forward with unflagging speed and crowded her against the wall. 

He seemed to freeze there, just staring, as Grainne held her breath in fear but dared to slowly bring her open hands to his brow. She stroked gently, again as if to soothe without words, wiping the blood away from the stab wound from she'd inflicted across his cheek. She held his gaze, and he did not strike.

Gunnarr's anger evaporated into pounding lust as the low voice, gentle fingers and plump curves of the woman he'd pinned to the wall gathered into an overwhelming impression of yielding softness. Her face came into focus as he calmed from the necessary rage of battle. A broad forehead and curving cheeks tapered into a cleft chin. Hazel eyes, wide with concentration and courage, gazed intently into his. Only the pallor beneath sunned skin and parted lips hinted at the fear her quickened breath and shaking body confirmed. Gunnarr groaned. 

He had not been with a woman since shortly before his wife died birthing their perfect stillborn daughter the year before. A flash of Bera's teasing smile as she urged him to "knock" so the baby would answer the door and FINALLY be born rose unbidden, but slipped away as his body's yearning reasserted the present.

Gunnarr realized how much he had missed the feeling of a panting woman trembling against him, and thought to himself that he could give the comely one he had trapped better reason than fear to continue doing so. He lowered his head to bite her exposed throat, his lips sensing her racing pulse. He managed to tear his mouth away and looked into her eyes again.

"Eir?" He asked with raised eyebrows, sheathing his sword part way to convey the bargain he meant to strike. 

Grainne's face flamed, but she relaxed markedly as she stroked his face again and nodded slowly, "Eir. Mercy." He wasn't even unappealing, she noticed, far from it.

Grainne did not expect the joyful grin that instantly lit up his formerly grim face. Happy and relieved to be alive, even glad to be bribed rather than forced into sex with a raider, she impulsively stood on her toes and planted a solid kiss on his lips for emphasis. 

It quickly deepened, and she felt a delicious drag of roughened fingers tracing a path from her throat to the edge of her bodice. She felt herself melting into a desire she'd thought had died with her husband. She was hungry for a man, and this one had appeared with no strings attached. Grainne was practical minded, like most in her village, and the fact that nobody would question trading her body for her life only increased her eagerness to make do with fate. 

Gunnarr felt the woman's nipple harden as she arched against his palm, kissing him hard. This was going to be a raid to remember until his dying day! The thought of dying recalled his mind to his duty, and he drew away, sheathing his sword as he laughed at the turn of events. He gestured to the woman to wait, reached for the axe he wasn't about to trust her with, and headed out the door. He soon found his brother at arms Alrekr and hailed him.

"Alrekr, I fear I must retire the field for the day. I have a captive who thought to ask for mercy in our own tongue. But her accent is terrible, and surely I must teach her lips to shape it better," he laughed out.

His friend answered in kind, "No, we're done here and many are of your mind. I have confidence you'll have her begging for mercy aright by daybreak, brother." 

Alrekr turned away and simply chuckled as Gunnarr answered with an oath and a slammed door. In truth he was relieved that his friend was laughing with him over a woman again. The midwife had assured Gunnarr that he did not hurt his wife Bera, that the first babe was longer in coming and harder to birth, but he had told Alrekr he could not stop thinking his seed had brought them to harm. 

"He certainly seems unafraid now," thought Alrekr with a twitch of the lips.

***

Gunnarr barred the door then turned, removing the belt that held his sword and laying it in the chest with his axe. His arms were soon joined by his armor and tunic. Grainne beckoned to him to the table, where a flagon of mead waited next to a pitcher. He drank deeply until his thirst was quenched, watching her hips sway as she moved about. When she offered to tend his wound he shook his head, distracted by her breasts, now hidden in part by loosened light brown hair. With some effort, he lifted his eyes to hers and leered cheerfully, "Mercy time."

Grainne leered right back and moved her hands to the buttons of her bodice enticingly, walking toward him and seating herself on his lap. Once again her softness overpowered his senses, and Gunnarr batted her hands away, taking over her task. He had always loved undressing women, one of few pleasures in life where the reality of experience outshone his vivid imagination. 

Gunnarr let his mouth follow his fingers and reveled in the resulting gasps and sighs. He felt her arms go around his neck as her teeth caught his earlobe. The new angle shifted the curve of her bottom over his hardening cock, and he stood abruptly, holding the woman's waist tightly to keep her from falling. He pushed her loosened neckline past her shoulders and down her body, pulling her close to feel her skin against his. Grainne rubbed herself against the man's bare chest appreciatively, enjoying the feel of his crisp hair against her nipples, a jump from the firm ridge against her belly telling her that she wasn't alone in savoring it. She felt her dress slide down her hips and reached to seek the tie to her lover's trews. Finding it, she backed away to slide them past his muscled flanks and step out of her own clothing. She led the raider to her bed and both sat to remove their boots and inspect each others' nakedness. 

His plaited hair was a darker red than she had seen before, his beard like a riot of autumn leaves. Bright blue eyes contrasted his hair and tanned face. Freckles splashed across his forehead and nose, only dotting his skin more as her gaze traveled down muscled shoulders and arms, barrel chest and belly, and amusingly pale legs. She checked his jutting yard and balls most thoroughly for those little dots, finding a few even there. The body hair so pleasing to her breasts was red as well and she eyed the abundance with satisfaction. The texture and amount of a man's body hair, so different from her own, had always fascinated and aroused her. She couldn't wait to run her legs up and down his and feel that difference. Luckily, it seemed she wouldn't have to. Boots off, they stretched out facing one another, their lips meeting again. 

Gunnarr felt as if his whole body was throbbing as hard as his erection. His hands wandered the lush curves of the woman's wiggling body, trying to patiently ready her but feeling undeniable urgency. He nuzzled and sucked on her breasts, deciding they were the key to unlock her passion, remembering how she pressed into his hand earlier. Sweet moans and twining legs soon proved his guess correct. 

As he moved to nibble the full lower curve of one, she startled him by bursting into raucous laughter and jerking out of his grasp. As the laughter dissolved into breathless giggles, he realized she must be ticklish, since his beard had been rubbing her belly. Laughing himself, he deliberately but lightly ran his jaw down her stomach and was rewarded with more giggles and gasping protests needing no translation. Better still, her legs kicked out, splaying invitingly, and he took the opportunity to roll her beneath him. 

"Now, you are really at my mercy!" he cried, with an emphasis on the last word. 

He thrust into her, she was dizzyingly hot and wet. Gunnarr moaned in pleasure as he stretched himself, kissing and biting all over her breasts, her throat, her face. He felt her smooth legs moving up and down his as her hips rose to meet him. Just as he felt he would disgrace himself like an untried boy, he felt her rippling and clenching around his cock in release; any sense of shame fled, and he lost himself, shuddering into his own climax.

They lay gasping with their foreheads together, noses rubbing gently and eyes locked in a silent and sparkling bliss. 

Grainne, still shaking in orgasm, moved her lips back to his and slowly parted them with her tongue. They kissed lazily, enjoying the aftermath of their explosive union. Gradually she started rocking her hips in gentle circles, rousing him again, and they joined in slowly building passion much calmer but no less intense than their heated first encounter. 

***

The following morning, Grainne greeted Alrekr with words Gunnarr had taught her, 

"Good morning, brother. Do you not wish you could teach me mercy?" 

Her accent was perfect.

Alrekr could see from her blankly polite expression that she had no idea what she was saying, but he replied by nodding enthusiastically before turning to his friend. 

"Very funny, Gunnarr. As a matter of fact..." He took her hand and raising it said, "First, lady, I am not your brother." 

Gunnarr knocked his arm away with a grin, and took Grainne's hand himself, "You might as well be, brother. Woo your own woman." There was a fierce edge to the smile that Alrekr respected by stepping away a mocking pace or two. 

"At any rate, she seems like an apt enough pupil." he joked, reaching out to flick a bite mark on Gunnarr's neck then pointedly turning his attention to Grainne's similarly reddened throat. This earned him another whack. 

"Not at all, a scholar in her own right. I feel a pressing need to learn all she has to teach. Also, the local language."



Mercy



"The quality of mercy is not strain'd. It droppeth as gentle rain from heaven." - Shakespeare 

*

It was early evening when she walked into the bar. He had not expected to see her.

"Can I talk to you for a second," she said.

"Sure," he said.

She led him away from the crowded bar area and to an isolated table.

"You're my friend, right?" she asked.

"Of course," he said.

"And if I needed you to do something for me, you'd do it?" she said.

"If you needed help, I'd do my best to help you. Is that what you're asking? Are you planning on robbing a bank or something?" he said.

"I am not planning on robbing a bank," she said.

"I just was hoping you could show me some mercy. That's what I need tonight," she said.

"Mercy?" he said. "Well, now I'm intrigued. How so?" he said.

She sat closer to him.

"I need you to give me tonight. One night. I can't take it anymore," she said.

He didn't say anything.

"My body is so hot for you it is boiling my brain. I can't think straight. I can't sleep. I'm shaking sitting this close to you," she took his hand and pressed it to her chest.

"Feel my heart," she said. It was beating. Beating fast. She held his hand. "I don't care what you think of me for telling you this. You win whatever game this is. I'm out of my league. I just need you to have mercy on me. Just this once. Please," she said.

And she waited. 

"You're right. I am your friend. And because of that, I can't," he said. 

"You think this is what you want. But tomorrow, this moment will have passed, and you'll be glad I said no tonight," he said. She pushed his hand away.

"It never passes. Do you think it was easy for me to come here and ask you for this? If it passed, I wouldn't have gotten to this point," she said.

"Seriously, if you won't do this tonight, I'll find someone else here who will. I don't care anymore," she said. "No, you will not. Go home. Get some sleep and you'll feel better," he said.

"Did you not hear me before? I can't sleep. I can't sleep because all I can think about is you fucking me," she said.

He paused for a second. Then he moved to get up and pulled her up with him. "Come on, I'll walk you out to your car," he said.

They walked outside and when they got to her car, he went to hug her goodbye.

He got his arms around her but she pushed back. "Don't. I can't take it. Don't touch me," she said.

"Come on," he said.

"I am not kidding. I can't take it right now. Screw it. I'm going back in the bar," she said.

He gave up as she went back in. He went back to his friends and kept half an eye on her playing a song on the jukebox. He saw a guy go over and start talking to her. It looked like he was asking if she was all right.

He looked away and was distracted for a while. He forgot about her until he looked over again and saw she was now sitting on the guy's lap at a table near the jukebox. 

She had a beer in her hand and was talking to the guy intently. He had his hand on her knee. He started to get a little worried that she was serious about her previous threat. 

It was when it looked like she was leaving the bar with the guy that he was sure she was serious. And he was just as serious about not letting that happen. 

"Hey. What the hell are you thinking?" he said, stopping her at the door. The guy tried to say something. And he put his hand up. "Don't fucking try it," he said, with barely a glance in his direction. The guy backed off.

"I told you what I was thinking," she said. "Let's go," he said, taking her keys, pulling her out the door and leaving the guy to stand there. Confused.

"You're fucking pissing me off now," he said.

"I'm taking you home and I'll figure out how to get back. But I'm not going to sit there and watch you do this to yourself," he said.

She was quiet as he put her in the passenger seat and started the car. She was smiling slightly.

"You think this is funny? You were making a spectacle of yourself in there. If you don't care about that, I do," he said.

He started to drive down the road and she took his hand. He tried to pull it back.

"Don't," she said quietly.

"I thought you couldn't touch me," he said.

"I can't," she said.

"Don't you wonder about it?" she said.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't you wonder what it would be like to fuck someone as consumed with you as I am? What it would do to me? You realize you touching my elbow drives me insane. Imagine if you touched me anywhere else?" she asked.

She still had his hand. She pressed it to her face.

He didn't pull away.

He was watching the road.

She took his hand and moved into the open neckline of her shirt, sliding it under and over her breast, and he could feel her nipple hard under his hand.

"See..." she said, leaning her head back.

He pulled away.

"Stop," he said.

"I can't. I really can't," she said, taking his hand back, moving it under her shirt again. "Feel how hard my nipples are? Touch me. See what happens," she said.

She moved closer to him in the car.

He couldn't help it. He had to touch her. Her mouth was at his ear now. Whispering. "That's right," she whispered. She felt his hand move around her breast. She felt warm. Her heart was in her throat. She felt his fingers moving, searching, finding her nipple and squeezing it gently. 

Her brain went white. It went white with no thoughts other than knowing his fingers were on her. Working her nipple. Nothing else was there. She felt her pussy ache, beat with it. He could feel her breathing faster on his neck, whispering things that weren't really words. She was hot. So hot. He could feel it. She was ready. She took his hand away.

"Don't you wonder what it sounds like when I whisper your name," she whispered.

"I have the best dream about you trying to get your hands under my skirt. Usually I'm driving. But the dream is just you trying to do that and me pushing you away. And it drives me crazy," she said.

She moved his hand down to her skirt. Under it. On her thigh. Higher.

"Just in case you don't believe what you do to me. Feel it. Touch me," she said. She left his hand on her thigh for him to do what he wanted. He knew he should pull away. But feeling her arm around his neck. Her other hand squeezing his leg. 

Feeling her breathing against him. He had to find her. Feel her. He moved his hand, his fingers further along her thigh, up, pushing them between her legs. Finding her pussy, because of course she wasn't wearing anything under her skirt.

And when he found her, he almost drove off the side of the road. She was so hot, and so drenched and dripping wet. He couldn't believe how wet she was.

"That's it....you see now," she whispered.

And he did. He felt it. She licked his lips and he hit the gas. If he didn't get there soon he was going to have to pull over.

But his fingers didn't stop. She sighed in his ear as he opened her, softly, feeling her warm and wet, and she moved back now toward her own side of the car, leaning back in the seat, moving her knees up, opening her legs more to him. And it was so good.

He didn't do much. Just traced her with his fingers. Finding her clit and teasing it. Her sighs got a little louder. Her eyes were closed. She bit her lower lip.

Her hand held onto his leg still and he could feel her squeezing it. And then she felt him stop touching her. And stop the car.

"We're here," he said. She hadn't even realized what was going on outside the car. He got out of the driver's side and opened her door for her to get out the passenger side. Her knees were weak. She couldn't look at him. She was too afraid of what was going to happen next."I should go," he said.

Which was exactly what she was afraid he was going to say. And she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around his."No. Please," she said.

He pulled her off the ground and back up to him. He lifted her face to his. "I said I should. I didn't say I was going to," he said, with a faint smile. She touched his face and his arms moved to her lower back. This was it. As she knew he was about to kiss her, she reminded herself to commit every second to memory. Every second. Every sense. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. The color of the evening sky behind him. What his eyes looked like. The sounds of the last remaining birds going to sleep.

But especially his eyes. The look in his eyes, just before he leaned toward her, pulling her to him to meet her mouth with his. 

She closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking as they met behind his neck. He softly kissed her mouth as her hands moved into his hair. He leaned her back against the car, kissing her harder, and her mouth opened slightly as her tongue sought his. 

Her hands tightened on his shoulders as his tongue moved strong and deep into her mouth, her tongue twisting with his, and the kiss became more tongue, less lips. His hands dug into her back, and he unconsciously bent her back more, and she was holding onto his neck tightly, moving her mouth away and back, finding his tongue again, and again. 

She was completely out of breath. She felt he was too. She stopped. Pulled away. Covered her face with her hands. He pulled them away and took her hand and led her into the house and upstairs. They sat on her bed. 

"So I'm here," he said.

"What do you really want?" he said. 

"What do I want?" she said.

"I want these," she put her hands over his. "Everywhere," she said.She touched his mouth, leaned in to open it with her tongue."I want this," she whispered into his mouth."Everywhere," she said.

She ran her hands up his legs until she found him hard, through his pants, and held him there.

"I want this..." she said."Careful on that one...," he said, smiling.

She laughed.She moved her hands to the buttons of his white shirt."I love this shirt," she said. 

"I know you do," he said.He pulled her shirt over her head. He stood up and started to unbutton his shirt. She pulled off her skirt and watched him. It was dark but the room was half lit with moonlight.

He pulled his shirt off. 

"Come here," he said.

There was a mirror on the wall. He pulled her to him and turned her to the mirror, pulling her in front of him. He held the shirt behind her, so she could put it on, and she did, one arm at a time, watching in the mirror. She closed her eyes feeling it on her naked skin, pulling it around her."You want to wear this," he said."How did you know that?" she said.

"I know," he said.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, looking at her in the mirror."It looks good on you," he said. He moved his hands over her, finding her nipples through the shirt, and she sucked in her breath quickly. 

"It looks better on you," she said."Well, of course," he said. She laughed.He turned her around and moved her to the bed, kissing her. Feeling her body under the shirt, over the shirt, and wearing it only added to her brain overload.Lying on the bed now, she moved her hand to the button of his pants as his tongue moved in her mouth and his fingers teased her everywhere.He put his hand on hers. "Wait," he said."You are sure you want to do this?" he said."Are you fucking kidding me?" she said. 

"Well, then you have to do something for me first," he said."Anything you want," she said.

"You have to promise to never ask me for mercy again," he said. His voice was serious.

"Because this.." he said, and leaned in to not kiss her, but actually fuck her mouth with his tongue, pushing it into her mouth as far as he could, and she could not breathe. He pulled away and she tried to get it back. But he pushed her back.

"This is NOT mercy," he said."And this....," he said, moving his mouth down to take her nipple, through the shirt, in his teeth, holding it there, sucking it through his shirt that she lusted after him in, his tongue teasing her nipple through the shirt, rough and wet, and her eyes fluttered. She tightened her fingers in his hair. He pulled away.

"This is not mercy," he said.

"And this...," he whispered, finding her pussy with his fingers, moving to finally open her, sliding one, then two fingers inside her, finding her hot, finding her wet, and she arched her back on the bed, moaning, as he moved, sliding them in and out of her, seeing she was about to come.

"Not yet," he said, pulling his hand away."That is not mercy," he said."And lastly, this..." he took her hand and moved it to feel his hard dick again. 

"Is pretty much the opposite of mercy. I'm warning you," he said.She was lost in it now, lost in what he was saying, what she was feeling, her orgasm was on the edge, blistering in her middle, starting to ripple out and she had no way to stop it."Look at me," he said.He took her face in his hand, pulling almost roughly to look at him. He knew she was struggling to focus. It was hot. He was about to let her go.

"Look at me. Listen to me. Are you listening?" he asked. He kissed her another hot, wet time.Her eyes were glazed over but she nodded at him. 

"Don't ask me for mercy," he said, kissing her again."Mercy is fucking not me," he said. She reached for the button of his pants again and this time he let her. He was ready. She got them off and found his dick with her hands.

"I want this," she whispered.

"Oh yeah?" he said. He was so hard.She turned him onto his back and deliriously worked her mouth down his body, finding his nipples with her tongue, working his mouth with hers, moving it down to swallow him without hesitation into her mouth. 

She moaned with the feeling of him down her throat. Her tongue worked him, sucking him, licking his balls, stroking him with her hand up and down, unable to get enough, sucking him, swallowing him, and he closed his eyes. It felt so fucking good. 

Her face was amazing to watch, her eyes closed, her breathing quickly when she pulled off to lick him everywhere, swallowing him again, she might have been enjoying it more than he was. And that was a lot. She was getting him close. But he knew he hadn't made her come yet. He wanted to. She'd been aching for that now for a while. Longer than tonight. Longer than a week. Longer than was probably fair, when he really thought about it. But he could fix that.Fix it now.He pulled her off and turned her on her back, although she fought him on it.He held her hands over her head.

"Remember in the car when you asked if I wanted to hear you say my name," he asked.She nodded. She couldn't talk."I do," he said, tracing his hand down her belly, to find her pussy again with his fingers, keeping his lips close to hers, kissing her gently, opening her, and quickly, sliding his fingers deeply inside her and swallowing and tasting her sighs into his mouth. 

Her nonsense words again.

Her soft moans."Say my name," he whispered. She was trying to find words now, as he slid his fingers into her, so wet, so hot, faster, and she could feel his hard dick against her, she was getting wetter, and she was almost there."Harder, oh yeah, faster, almost," she whispered."Say it," he said."Oh...," she said.

Then she said his name in such a way. Such a way that he knew she had dozens of times before. Just like that, and he went as hard, as fast as he could without hurting her, and she came. She came so hard that she almost screamed. Almost. She dug her nails into his back and he knew she cut into it but he wanted her to.

And once she started, she couldn't stop. It was amazing to watch. So easy. So hot. Over and over. He pulled his fingers out and moved his body down between her legs and lifted her wet pussy to his mouth, burying his tongue in it. He wanted to really send her over the edge.And he did. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. 

Her voice was going from sighing, moaning, trying to catch her breath. She couldn't take it. His tongue moved into her pussy, and he slid his fingers into her again as his tongue worked her clit and then she found her scream."Stop," she said."I can't take anymore, stop," she said, pulling him up to kiss her again. "You're not asking me for mercy...are you?" he said, smiling.

"No! no...I just ..I can't," she tried to make sense but couldn't find more than four words to come up with."Good," he said, and before she had time to get her head together, he lifted her hips, teased her wet pussy with his hard dick for only a second before sliding it into her, as hard and as far as it could go. 

Her breath was gone. Taken away. Her back arched. Her body shook. Her eyes rolled. Her hands were in tight fists. She was somewhere else. For that moment.

And he did not let up. He fucked her slowly at first, but he found he couldn't keep that pace. It was too hot. Too wet. Too tight. Too good. He had to go faster. Holding onto her hips, he rocked her body on the bed, harder. Faster.She watched him now, her eyes were open. She found her way back to logical thought so she could feel it, know it. Know he was fucking her.

"Oh yeah. That's what I want," she whispered. "More. Harder. Faster. Hurt me," she whispered.And he did all of those things. Harder. Fucking her faster.He moved off the bed, and pulled her hips to the edge, giving him a better edge to fuck her faster, harder and he watched her eyes, rolling, biting her lip, the tension was building, building. 

She was there. He saw it. "Come on," he said. And he said her name.

"Don't!" she said.She couldn't take it. He stopped for a second.

"What's wrong? You don't like when I say your name?" he said. And he said it again."You don't like when I say your name when I'm fucking you?" he said.

"Oh god," she said.That was it -- the tension had hit the high and was rolling down rapidly toward the break. 

He fucked her again, and she thrashed on the bed, turning, running her hands in her hair, whispering, moaning, saying his name and he knew that was it for him, and the last few thrusts were as hard and as fast as he could until they both came. 

And the room was quiet other than her catching her breath. She sat on the edge of the bed and he moved to his knees on the floor with his head against her belly and his arms around her waist. 

She looked in the mirror at the mess of crazy hair and smile that she had become and he did not want to admit how fast his heart was beating. 

And he did not say the only word that came to his mind.

Mercy. 



Mercy Date



As always, thanks to MaryGirard and Boheminxen for the editing work. Without their efforts in correcting my awful grammar, this would be mindless drivel. 

*

"What the fuck, Mom?" I yelled with an iniquitous look strewn across my face.

Mom shot me a disgruntled glare, "What did you just say to me?"

I cringed at my slip of the tongue -- not that I don't curse, I just don't usually go around doing it in front of her. "Sorry Mom, but geez, it's my senior prom, and you're telling me who to go with."

"You just broke up with your latest boyfriend, Roger something or other, who was the most recent failure in a long line of horrible decisions. I'm just happy I put you on the pill when I did; I don't think I would be able to handle one of those idiots being a father." Mom paused to shiver at the thought. "Since prom is only in a couple days and neither of you had a date, I figured it was time for you to go out with a good kid for once."

"But it's Barrett Stevens," I stated firmly, because in my eyes, that is all I needed to say to make my point.

"And what's wrong with the Stevens boy?" Mom put her hands on her hips. "He helps with our garbage, shovels our sidewalk in the winter, and mows our lawn in the summer. He's mature for eighteen with a bright future ahead of him."

"Hey, I'm eighteen too. Are you saying I'm not mature?"

Mom's eyebrows lifted as if to say 'Do you really want me to answer that'. "What I'm saying is that you could use someone stable in your life."

"Mom," I shook my head, "look at me." I swung my arms to bring attention to myself and paused so she could take in my curvaceous body, toned from years of soccer, my natural auburn curls, my beautiful brown eyes piercing right into hers to make my point. "And now think of Barrett," I trembled at just the thought of walking arm in arm into my prom with the wiry dork next door neighbor with the unkempt black hair who only tends to dress in dirty t-shirts and ripped jeans. "Now tell me -- why would I go with him?"

"Because if you don't, you can forget about me paying for that trip to Cancun you desperately want to go on for spring break."

"That's so unfair!" I shouted, but my voice betrayed me, breaking as it reached two octaves higher. "You can't do this to me!" I stormed off to my bedroom and slammed the door when I got there. I dove head first onto the bed and pressed my face into my pillow as it soaked up my tears while my fist pumped repeatedly into the mattress, absorbing my anger. 

After some time, I calmed down. Sort of. I had to call my best friend and deliver my unfortunate news. Maybe Denise could help me figure a way out.

"Your Mom said what?" Denise gasped into the receiver.

"I know, right? I can't believe she's making me go to prom with that loser." 

"Do you think she was serious about not letting you go to spring break?" Denise yawned since it was getting late. "I mean, you can't miss Cancun; it's going to be a week long party!"

"I don't think she was joking, and I don't want to tempt her by calling her bluff. Remember the ski trip I wasn't allowed to go on?" I sighed. "I can't believe she's fucking with my life like this."

"Well, what if you take him and leave him when you get there? Kind of get lost in the crowd type of thing?"

"Yeah, I thought of that, but she'll just end up asking him the next time he takes out our garbage about how things went, and then I'll be in deep shit."

"He still does that?" Denise said with a chuckle.

"I know, ain't that creepy?" I laughed as well. "He's probably in love with me or something. Bribed my mom to make me go to prom with him."

"What if we tried to spin it?" Denise got all serious. "You can say you're going with him as a mercy date, and maybe people will vote for you to be prom queen?"

"You think that would work?" I asked, my tone full of hope.

"It's worth a shot -- who knows? Listen, I'm getting tired, but if you need anything, just ask. I'm sure it will work out. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Of course you can say that, you're not the one being forced to go out with Barrett Stevens," I snickered. "Later, Dee."

I thought all night about what Denise said. 'I have three days to turn this into me winning prom queen. Winnie Hearst is the main competition, but she's a stuck up bitch. I can do this. I have to do this or I'll end up being the laughing stock of the entire school.'

At first, Denise and I started to let a few key people know that I was going to prom with Barrett Stevens, and that I was doing it as charity. It was slow going at first until Lucy Wells, our student council president and Matt Harding, captain of the debate team, overheard me telling someone my plan. They loved the idea of the popular girl looking past social status. Those two spread the word like wild fire. Soon, all of Hilldale High knew what I was doing and thought of me as the "girl with the heart of gold". I almost didn't mind the inconvenience of going with Barrett. Almost.

The day of prom, I did everything a girl could do. I got my hair styled, my nails manicured, and my makeup professionally done. When I put on my aquamarine sequined strapless gown, I was the picture of perfection. Damn, I wish I wasn't going with the dork next door, prom queen or not.

Barrett arrived ten minutes early, which was a first in my dating life. I thought I had a half hour or more to get ready. I saw him for the first time since the arrangement as I glided down the steps. He actually cleaned up nicely. He wore a black tuxedo with an aquamarine cummerbund (Mom must have told him), and his hair was actually combed. He held a corsage in his hand, and he gave me a small, friendly smile when he saw me.

"You look enchanting, Kylie."

He gave me a look I'm not used to seeing. Most of the guys look at me as if I'm a piece of meat, not that I mind, but he seemed to gaze at me with reverence. I didn't acknowledge him.

"Don't go yet. I want pictures!" Mom shouted from down the hall before appearing. "I had to get my camera."

I rolled my eyes as Barrett stepped in close, his hands at his side.

"Come on Barrett, put your arm around her," Mom instructed.

Barrett turned his head to look at me and then tentatively put his arm on my shoulder. "C'mon Mom, hurry up," I commanded. I did not want a keepsake of my failed ability to get a proper date to prom. It was bad enough this would be etched into my very soul for eternity. After a couple of clicks and flashes, I was done whether Mom wanted us to be or not. "Let's go Barrett; we don't want to be late." I pulled him out the door, and he started walking to his driveway. "Where are you going?"

Barrett pointed to his dirty F-150 pickup. "I thought I was taking you to prom." 

I shook my head. "Uh - uh. I am not showing up to my prom in that shitty excuse for a rust bucket you call a truck. Get in, I'll drive." Barrett then did something unexpected; he opened the door for me.

I started driving along toward Regency Gardens, the banquet hall where prom was being held. Barrett's head lay against the window as he stared out into the darkness. "Let's lay down some ground rules for tonight, shall we?" His eyes shifted toward me without his head moving. "First, you are lucky to be going with me, so you need to do as I say. We dance when I say we dance. You eat when I say you eat. If I ask you to leave, you leave. And lastly, don't speak, ever. I'll handle everything. All we have to do is get..."

Barrett interrupted me by mumbling something about a gnat.

Was he comparing me to an insect? "What did I say about speaking?" I tilted my head defiantly to reiterate my point. "But since we aren't there yet, I'll let this slide. So what did you say?"

"It was nothing." Barrett audibly exhaled as he rolled his eyes. "It's obvious you don't want to go with me so why don't you pull over and let me out here."

"What, and listen to my Mom bitch and moan about how I left you for dead and then have her take away my trip to Cancun?" I stared him down. "Fuck that. Besides, you should be grateful you get to walk into prom on my arm."

Barrett shook his head, "Make a right onto Washington Boulevard, the next light." 

"Why? Prom is straight ahead." I glanced at him curiously. He just looked at me. "Oh, fine." I threw my blinker on and made the right. We stayed on Washington for twelve miles before he spoke again. We were really going out of our way as we headed downtown. 

"Make a left onto Springwell Avenue, the second light up ahead and then turn into the first drive on the right."

"This had better be good." I was getting irritated at his instructions but followed them. I made the left, and then I saw the sign to where we were going. "Moreau's? You're taking me to Moreau's?" I tried to hide the excitement in my voice as I put my turn signal on for the five-star French restaurant.

When I pulled in, a man was waving us over. "What is this guy's problem?" I thought about slamming on the accelerator and running his ass over, but I refrained, thinking I didn't want a police investigation on my prom night. Instead, I eased on the gas pedal to try to get him to move out of the way. The man began slapping his hand on the hood of my car.

"What are you doing?" Barrett screamed, "That's the valet, stop the car." I did, and Barrett jumped out and rushed to the guy. I felt immediately stupid. It's not my fault I've never had valet service before. All my dates have only taken me to fast food and the local diner. How was I supposed to know the man wasn't trying to steal my car? "Sorry Thomas. It's her first time here; she didn't know." Barrett then shook the man's hand, and I could see he gave the valet some money. Thomas made a step toward the car but Barrett stopped him. "I got it." He opened my door and extended his hand. "Mademoiselle?" I was lost in the moment. That is the excuse I'll give to anyone who may have seen me not only accept his hand, but hold onto it as we walked up the stone walkway to the entrance. Lost in the moment.

Barrett held open the door once again, and we were greeted by the most energetic hostess. "Welcome to Moreau's... Oh Barrett, haven't seen you here in a while. How have you been?"

"Great Sally -- how are you and the twins doing?"

"We're all doing really good, thanks again for..." Sally glanced at me, "everything."

"Well, that was more my uncle than anyone. I just helped, but I'll let him know."

"So, a table for two?"

"Yeah, I have a reservation, but we're about ten minutes early."

"That's okay. The last table finished early, so I can seat you now."

After we sat, our server, Liz, came by, and it was more of the same conversation. Except with Liz, Barrett inquired about her husband. She then took our drink order and left us alone.

"Okay, what's the deal?" I folded my hands together and stared at him intently. "You barely talk to anyone at school but you know everyone and their families at a five-star French restaurant that has a six month waiting list just to get a table." Then it hit me. "Wait, how did you get a table when we weren't even going out together until three days ago?"

"Yeah," Barrett drew out the word. "Don't tell anyone, all right?"

"Don't tell anyone?" I was flabbergasted. "You haven't even told me." I felt my voice rise an octave.

"Calm down, Kylie." Barrett put his hand over mine. "You don't want to start shouting in a five- star restaurant. They tend to frown on that," he said with a chuckle. "Just sit back and enjoy the food."

At that moment, our drinks and food arrived. "What's this? I don't remember ordering anything. Hell, I don't remember seeing a menu."

"Oh, I apologize. I didn't think you could read French?"

I looked at him sheepishly, "Um, I can't." I quickly found my voice, however. "But I would still like to know what I'm about ready to eat."

"It's a French delicacy. And it's the best. A food critic from Bon Appetit called it 'a top five dish from any French restaurant in the country.' You'll like it."

I picked at the food and gave a cautionary glance at Barrett, who just sat there smiling at me. Waiting. I had to admit, I actually started feeling guilty at nervously running my fork over my food. It was a work of art on a plate. I took a bite. It was delicious; it was euphoria on my taste buds. I took a bite of the side item. "Holy shit, this is fantastic!" Barrett laughed at my exclamation and began eating his dinner as well. The incredible food must have dulled my senses as I started to have a conversation with the man before me. He was so different from anyone else I've dated. Not one fart joke uttered. He was cultured. He was a gentleman. I loved it.

After dessert, we were making our way to prom. "So, are you going to tell me what I inhaled in there or will I have to tell your Mom what a shitty date you were?"

"Are you sure you want to know? Wouldn't you prefer the mystery of it?" Barrett smirked.

I lightly slapped him on the arm, "Of course I want to know Barrett -- how else will I order it again? Fuck, that was good."

Barrett playfully threw up his hands, "All right, all right. Well, the main course was escargot and Le Foie Gras, and dessert was a truffle."

"In English, tell me what was so good that I looked like a pig at a trough?"

"You liked it, right."

"Best. Meal. Ever. Now tell me."

"You ate snails, duck liver, and an underground fungus."

"You're joking, right?"

Barrett had an ear-to-ear grin, "Best meal ever."

"Eww, gross!" I shivered. "How could you let me eat that?"

"If I told you beforehand, you never would have eaten it. You just admitted it was great," Barrett laughed. "And you're about to miss our turn."

I don't remember actually making the turn I almost missed, but I must've. My mouth was still agape as Barrett opened my door and held out his hand. I snapped back to reality and got out on my own accord, brushing his hand to the side. I had a good time at the restaurant, but no way was I touching him in front of my friends. As we walked, I kept a three foot distance from him. As he held open the entrance door for me, I stared him down and pointed for emphasis. "Remember the rules." Barrett appeared shocked, but I didn't care.

We danced a song and then sat for three. And no slow songs. That was my personal rule to get through this evening. Denise and I handled all the talking. Everybody told me I was a saint. Barrett was the silent gentleman. He pulled out my chair whenever we sat, got me punch without me asking, and when we were alone, he would give his opinion to what I said in prior conversations. He actually listened to me. And was I ever impressed that he could dance. He was nimble and light on his feet as he spun, dipped, and twirled me. Compared to him, I probably looked as if I had a spastic colon.

When we were alone, sitting at a table once again, the DJ started to play an older song that I didn't know. But Barrett did. He leaned in and started singing in my ear. His voice was captivating. "And I said yes, you look wonderful tonight. We go to a party, and everyone turns to see, this beautiful lady, that's walking around with me." 

I started to tear up, and I pulled him to the dance floor. What could it hurt to dance half of one slow song with him? He continued singing in my ear as I laid my head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around me, and I swear I never felt safer than at that moment.

When the song ended, I didn't even need to look around; I could feel everyone staring at us. I pulled away and headed to an empty table. That was so stupid of me. How could I slow dance with Barrett? He beat me to my destination and pulled out a chair for me. God, if he wasn't such a...such a... I don't even know what to call him now, but I would seriously consider him boyfriend material, and he would definitely be getting fucked senseless tonight. Looks like I'll be settling for my fingers.

"Ladies and gentleman," Lucy Wells announced as she came onto the small stage, "It's time to crown our new king and queen."

This is what I've been waiting for. Being forced to prom with Barrett Stevens is going to pay off, now.

"The prom king is," Lucy opened the envelope, "Andy Sullivan."

A round of applause erupted as Andy walked up to the stage.

"And the queen of this year's prom is..." I held my breath. "Winnie Hearst."

I was pissed. "It's all your fault. You just had to make my Mom force me to go with you to prom. I know you're in love with me, but do you have to ruin my life, too?" I tried to keep my voice down as I berated Barrett. As I stood in a huff, I slapped him, hard. He sat there stunned for a moment and then ran a hand through his hair as he mumbled something about Natalie. Maybe that's what he said in the car when I thought he called me an insect. I didn't know a Natalie, but I didn't care either as I stormed to the woman's bathroom.

After calming down, I realized I might have been a little hard on Barrett. I made sure my hair and makeup were flawless before I made my grand reentrance. Barrett wasn't at the table where I left him. I scanned the room and couldn't find him through the sea of people. Damn it.

"Hey Kylie," a voice to the right of me called. I turned and saw my ex, Roger Mitchell waving me over to his table and his circle of jocks. 

Barrett wouldn't just wave me over. He'd be a gentleman and escort me there. "Hey, guys."

"So what was that about with that loser? You do something nice, and he took advantage of you or something?" Roger's hand was already on my ass. "I could teach him a lesson for you."

I removed his hand from my backside. Barrett wouldn't grope me like that. "No thanks. Where's that slut you dumped me for? I'm sure she wouldn't like to see you grabbing me."

"Oh, I told her to go get me some punch; she'll be back." Roger put his arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap. "Why don't you come with us back to my hotel room? The three of us could have a great night together." His hand cupped my breast.

"Fuck you, Roger," I hissed, as I had to really pry myself away from his vice-like grip.

"If not him, how about me and you get it on, Kylie?" Stu Jones, a muscle bound idiot exclaimed as he now reached for my ass.

"Can you assholes be any more immature?" I spat as I walked away. 

Through that entire encounter, I just ended up comparing all those guys to Barrett. And I'm on a date with him right now. I could be with him and be treated with class. I found myself now wanting Barrett's company. Where was he? I looked all over, but he was nowhere to be seen. People began filtering out and still no Barrett. I slumped in my chair as Denise walked up.

"John and I are heading out. We'll see you at Carrie's after prom bash."

"Have you seen Barrett?" I barely looked up at my friend.

"Not since you slapped him," Denise laughed. "That was a great way to get rid of him. If your Mom says anything, you can say he did something, and you had to slap him. So grab a guy and come to the party."

"I don't want some guy."

Denise looked around. "I see your point. Come to the party and pick one up later." She leaned in and hugged me. "I'll see you there."

I didn't know how to tell Denise I wasn't going to the party. Why would I? The guy I want wouldn't be there. The banquet hall was nearly empty, and Barrett obviously wasn't here anymore. I got in my car and drove off, unsure of where he might be. I drove by all the nearby local hang outs, but there was no sign of him. Dejected, I headed home. When I pulled onto my street, I saw a car that didn't belong in the neighbor's driveway. Barrett's driveway. I hurriedly pulled in and when I got out of my car, I saw Barrett and another girl sitting on his porch swing. I didn't know what to do. Should I go over there? Should I just go inside? Fuck these decisions. 




Mercy Date



I slowly headed toward Barrett and the mystery girl.

"It's alright Kylie," Barrett's voice pierced the night, "You don't have to come over here. I'll tell your Mom it was a good date, and you'll have what you want most in life, your trip to Cancun."

I continued on. 

"Did you hear me Kylie?" I could see his head turn to face me. "I'll give you a good report."

It seemed like it took an eternity, but I finally arrived in front of him. I couldn't look him in the eye, and I feared whoever this girl was already had him. But then why would he want to go to prom with me? That thought raised my spirits a little, but then sunk again thinking she probably hasn't hit him, either.

"Natalie, this is my neighbor, Kylie. Kylie, this is Natalie." Barrett put his arm around Natalie. I knew she didn't go to our school. She seemed slightly older, and she had her slender form tight to his body. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, and her brown locks cascaded down his chest.

Damn it, this girl was already pissing me off. "Barrett, I came over to apologize. I was wrong for hitting you. I was wrong for insulting you. I was just wrong for treating you like shit. I'm sorry."

"Well, this is a side of you I've never seen before." Barrett seemed to be in awe for a moment. Am I that much of a bitch? "Apology accepted."

"Just like that?" I assumed I would be on my hands and knees begging before he said that -- at least I would have with any other guys I normally hang out with.

"Just like that," and Barrett gave a nod with his affirmation.

I smiled and raised my head to meet his eyes. He returned my smile with one of his own. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"You're welcome."

"Well, I've got to get going," Natalie stood and then leaned over and gave Barrett a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for everything." Natalie walked to her car, saying a farewell to me.

"Barrett, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

"Who was that?" I was barely audible since I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.

"Natalie is a freshman at State University." Great, how could I possibly compete with a college chick? "I was supposed to see her tonight before my Mom asked me to take you to prom. Since I thought our date was over, I gave her a call, and we salvaged what time was left of the evening."

"Wait, what?" I shook my head wondering if I heard him correctly. "Are you telling me you were asked to take me to prom?"

"Well, I wasn't going, and your Mom knew how important having a date to prom was for you, so she asked my Mom a couple days ago to ask me. I felt bad to cancel on Natalie, but I knew how important prom was to you, too. Hell, that's all you ever spoke about on the phone. I mean, I don't intentionally eavesdrop, but our rooms are right next to each other, and if we both have our windows open... well, you get the point. So I said I would."

I was stunned. Barrett gave me a mercy date! I was so conflicted. I was mad at Mom -- I thought I was in love with Barrett, and I was definitely scared he wouldn't even consider me. It didn't feel like the right time to press about Natalie. I wasn't sure it would ever be the right time to do that. Could my self-esteem get any lower? "Well, thanks again. Goodnight."

I went home. I cleaned myself up and tried to go to sleep. It didn't work. All my thoughts were on Barrett. How he treated me, and the warm sensation it caused inside me... And how I treated him, which immediately brought on a feeling of shame. His relationship with Natalie causing disgust for a person I know nothing about. Then I went back to how he treated me. He sang to me.

While recalling all the wonderful moments of the evening, my hand slipped inside my panties. I didn't even realize what I was doing until an involuntary moan disrupted my thoughts. Fuck, was I wet! My memories went to fantasies. Oh, what would we be doing right now if he were here? Would he fuck me slow and sweet? Or would he let me take charge? Does he have an inner dark side that comes out during sex? God, I just fucking knew his cock would fill me up. Mmm. 

The two fingers plunging inside me felt divine, and my other hand couldn't settle on one destination. It started on my breasts, massaging and pinching each rock hard nipple, eliciting another squeal from me. It slithered downward, and goose bumps rose over my flat stomach. It grazed through my auburn mound and came to rest outside my womanhood. My fingers inched toward their journey's end. 

One touch of my clit, and I was on the brink. I could smell my arousal in the air, the pungent aroma feeding my drive toward ecstasy. My hips bucked high in the air as my fingers thrust as deep as they could go. I screamed my release as a tsunami of pleasure was coursing through my veins. I wrapped my arms around my pillow. "Oh, Barrett," I smiled and pulled it tighter to my body, wanting nothing more than his body close to mine.

The next morning, I awoke with a glow. I did everything quickly and was downstairs in a blink of an eye. I knew what I wanted, and he was right next door. And I knew how to get a man. Well, I knew how to get a boy. I just found out I wanted a man. A man I slapped and insulted half the night. And had a girlfriend. This wouldn't be easy. I quickly ate a bowl of cereal and devised a plan. I had to get to know him first. Find out what he does, where he goes, and then I'll show up. I'll use my charms, and he'll be mine. I watched through the window for him to leave, my patience running thin as my excitement enveloped my body.

"Everything alright, Kylie?" My mom's concerned voice rang out from behind me. "You're fidgeting."

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mom." I glanced back at her briefly before returning my stare to the neighbor's house.

"So how was prom? Have fun?"

"It was great." I gave her a smile.

"Despite going with the Stevens boy?" Mom raised an eyebrow.

"No. It was because of him." I turned and looked her right in her eye. "I'm still a little mad at you, but it did work out, so thanks for setting me up." 

Mom gave a nod and chuckled lightly. 

"Oh, and I don't want to go to Cancun." Why would I go somewhere just to be lonely for a week and give Natalie the opportunity to sink her claws into Barrett even more?

"But why?" Mom's voice was alarmed. "You were looking forward to it for so long."

"I just don't want to go anymore," I said in a dismissive manner.

"Did something happen last night? Did someone hurt you, sweetie?"

Mom must have really been worried; she never calls me sweetie unless she thinks I'm upset. I gave her my best smile. It was easy as I thought of Barrett. "Everything is right as rain, and I couldn't be happier." Or it would be after I landed my guy.

"I'm glad you told me because I was going to order it today." Mom left and headed to the living room, accepting my decision but still not completely understanding it. From behind me, I heard a door shut. I glanced back. It was Barrett, and he was dressed in a polo shirt and slacks. He looked good. A far cry from what he normally wore to school. I jumped from my chair and got in my car. He was halfway down the street when I pulled out of my driveway. I followed a few cars back, hoping not to be noticed. Some might call what I'm doing as stalking; I would like to think of it as investigative reporting for personal use.

Barrett pulled into the driveway of a large home. All that was missing was a gate in front and white pillars, and I would call it a mansion. I parked across the street. His rusty pickup looked out of place next to the Mercedes it was parked near. The maid answered his knock, and he was allowed to enter. I took note of the address and dozed off from time to time. He was there for a couple hours. When he left, he shook the hand of a middle-aged man and hugged the equally-aged woman next to him. She gave him a sheet of paper, and he left.

I followed Barrett to some food market and maintained a constant visual as he passed from one vendor to the next, carefully picking assorted vegetables and various meats. Afterwards, he went to Moreau's and dropped off his purchases. I smiled just thinking about dinner last night. Finally, he went back home.

The next day was school, and I was at war with myself. I wanted to drape myself to Barrett's arm, but I didn't know where he was or how he'd take it. Plus, I knew I needed to do some damage control with Denise from when I didn't show at Carrie's after prom party.

"So where were you? I had John wait for you for an hour and a half?" Denise had her hands on her hips. "Wait, something is different about you today." She put her finger to her lips, and then her eyes went wide. "You're in love!"

"Shh! You said to find a guy." I tilted my head and gave a smirk. "I was trying."

"Well, you could have called." Then a smile curved Denise's lips. "So who was it? Did you get lucky?"

I gave a cautious grin. "Um, I did find a guy."

"Oh my God!" Denise squealed. "C'mon girl, details. Spill it."

I knew I didn't want my feelings to become public knowledge yet, and I was worried about how people will take it, but the one person I could always count on was Denise. She always had my back and I hers. I shook my head. "Okay, I'll tell you, but not here." I dragged her to the library. 

As we sat down, Denise looked as if she was on a spring. "So, who won your heart? Was it Edwin? Jack? Who?" 

"It was Barrett." I blushed at just the thought of him.

"Barrett?" There was confusion in Denise's voice. "The same Barrett you bitch slapped at prom?"

"Oh Denise, he was such a gentleman. He took me to Moreau's beforehand."

"That fancy French restaurant? Oh, I'm so jealous."

I told Denise everything. How he was nice, how I was mean, and of course, my competition. She promised not to tell anyone, wished me luck and even gave me some valuable information. Barrett's last two classes are AP courses that he takes at State University. It looks like I am going to be ditching my last two classes.

I started up my car when I saw Barrett. He was wearing his customary dirty t-shirt and ripped jeans again. I almost questioned why I wanted him, but then I thought back to him dancing with me and my heart went all a flutter. I followed him to the university this time and waited. When he came back out, he was in a group, and Natalie was there. They said their goodbyes, and he was back in his truck. I hate that fucking cunt. 

The next place he went caught me completely off guard. Barrett went to a construction site. He grabbed a hard hat from the back of his truck and almost instantly started ordering some of the employees around. He then joined in the work. At least that explains his clothing selection; he wouldn't want to get his regular clothes torn working construction.

Every weekday was the same: school, university, construction, and then home. On Saturday, Barrett mowed his and my lawn before heading out, and I was on his tail again. He apparently showered and had on a polo shirt and slacks. He went to the university dorms and stayed there for a couple of hours. It was evening when he came out, and the bane of my existence was with him. He was with Natalie the entire time. It was bad enough he saw her every day at class, but Saturdays, too. Fuck! She kissed him on the cheek again, and he left. Damn it! 

He next pulled into a fancy Italian restaurant, Giovanni's. 'Don't tell me he knew everybody here, too.' He was only in the establishment a minute before reappearing. He sat on a bench outside, and he was constantly checking his watch. After thirty minutes, he stood and began walking. Walking towards me. Oh shit, what do I say? I began to bite my nails. How do I explain this? Should I just take off? 

Barrett opened my door and extended his hand. "Our table is ready."

"What?" I asked incredulously as Barrett just held out his hand. "Oh, okay then." I accepted his offer but walked a couple paces behind him. My head was down while my hands nervously rubbed against each other, the friction causing them to sweat. On top of all that, he was leading me to Giovanni's, and here I was in an old worn t-shirt that had a rip on the shoulder and sweatpants. I hadn't anticipated going anywhere and wanted to be comfortable in the car. As we were seated, I swear I received a disapproving stare from the maître d'. After a moment, the waiter came over and took our drink order.

"I'll have a Coke." I answered quickly, without looking at him or Barrett.

"I'll have a virgin strawberry daiquiri and a Coke," Barrett closed his menu. "And we're ready to order."

"Certainly sir, what would you like?"

"I'll have the lobster ravioli."

"And for you, Miss?"

I literally had four bucks on me as all my money went to gas following Barrett all week. "Nothing for me, thanks."

"She'll have the chicken parmesan," Barrett answered for me.

"But I don't have any money." I had to object.

"I've got it, Kylie. Relax." When drinks came, Barrett gave me his daiquiri. "I ordered this for you. I think you'll like it."

It was my first daiquiri. I wondered how alcohol could make this better. It was that good.

We sat in silence until the food came, him eyeing me while I was trying to avoid his gaze. I tentatively took my first bite, and it was superb. How does Barrett seem to know what food I will love? If I don't land him, I'm afraid I'll be ruined for the next guy because he'll want fast food, and I'll want escargot.

"So, do you want to tell me why you have been following me this past week?" Barrett broke the silverware clanking silence we were sharing. 

"You've noticed?" I cringed. Barrett just looked at me. I took a deep breath. "What can I say? I was curious about your life."

Barrett had a puzzled look about his face. "Why?" He finally asked.

It wasn't time yet. I wanted to seduce him. He wasn't supposed to see me. If I told him the truth, it'd be over, and he'll run right into Natalie's arms. But what could I possibly say? "You surprised me Barrett. At prom, I mean. You were the best date a girl could've asked for. I was just wondering what other surprises you had, so I followed you. And you know what? I understand some things now, like why you always wear raggedy t-shirts and ripped up jeans to school. By the way, you do look nice the way you dress on weekends."

Barrett took a drink of soda. "You could've asked, Kylie. I have no secrets."

"Well, I wasn't sure if Natalie would like you talking to another girl. I know some girls can be possessive."

Barrett laughed, "No, Natalie isn't like that. She's really cool with a lot of things."

"So she wasn't upset at all that you took me to prom?" I looked at him in disbelief. 

"Not in the slightest." Barrett gave me a smile. "She was disappointed with me canceling, sure, but as you've seen this past week, she's over it."

"And what's the deal with you, Moreau's, and the construction site?" I asked as I tucked behind my ear an annoying tendril of hair that fell in my face.

"My aunt's maiden name is Moreau, and it's her restaurant. I help out there on occasion. For instance, last week I picked up some groceries for it. My uncle owns the construction company that is running the sites I work at. They can't have children, so he offered to give the company to me provided I complete college, and I spend my time learning as much as I can from him. Right now, I'm running my own plumbing crew. Electrical will be next, after I learn more about it."

After dinner, he picked up the check, and we headed off separately. As we entered our respective homes, we said goodnight. I went right to my bed and began to plot. If Natalie isn't the jealous type, she must really trust Barrett. I could get close to him. I would have to prove I've changed, and I'd only be able to do that at school. He just doesn't have any free time.

I started first thing Monday morning. Denise helped me get his class schedule and where his locker was located. She was surprised I wasn't over my "crush" and in turn said I had "it" bad. What can I say? Barrett was perfect because he treated me in a way I did not know I wanted to be treated. 

In the beginning, I simply acknowledged him when I "accidentally" happened to see him in the hallway. That lasted only a couple days as I became more emboldened. I then went on to ask if he would be a gentleman and escort me to class while we had a polite conversation. Soon it became all my classes. After a week and half, I put my arm in his while we walked, and I began to sit with him at lunch. I gave affectionate touches and glances whenever I could. 

A few people, most notably Roger and his entourage, gave me a hard time about it, but I didn't care. After three weeks, I felt as if I was living a dream. He remained everything he was at prom and more. And then it finally happened.

Barrett was escorting me to one of my classes when someone opened the door to the restroom. I wasn't paying attention, and bam, I was flat on my ass. Laughter filled the area. Everyone was making some sort of sarcastic comment or snickering at my expense. Everyone but Barrett.

"Ah, Fuck!" I exclaimed as I put a hand to my head.

Barrett couldn't have been more chivalrous as he knelt down, "Are you okay?" Worry filled his voice, and concern adorned his face.

"Yeah." I shook my head. "I'll be fine." Great. This incident probably set me back with my seduction. How could I be so clumsy?

"Let me see." The spot where I hit my forehead must have really been red as Barrett gave a sharp intake of air. "You may end up with a bump there." I could feel my eyes glossing over, and it wasn't because of humiliation. I felt defeated. He cupped my chin; no more than an inch separated our noses. "No worries -- it's not that bad. It won't leave a mark." Then he kissed me.

I wasn't prepared. If I was, I would've wrapped my arms around him and made it last forever. As it was, I barely was able to kiss him back. I thought my awkward moment sealed my fate. It would've with more than a couple guys I know, even if I was fucking them, and Barrett and I haven't crossed that line yet. I should have known he was different. He pulled back and extended his hand. 

"Thanks," I stammered as he pulled me up. Barrett had to help me walk for the first couple of steps, as I was still woozy, unsure if it was from the door or the kiss.

This was the break I needed. That affection was my silver lining. Barrett broke the kissing barrier. He initiated it, and I would build upon it. He would be mine. Natalie would be a moot point and out of the picture after today. Ha! I simply needed a step stool and a screwdriver. The one with an 'X'. 

That night, I waited for him to come home. Barrett's window was open, and the curtain drawn as it usually was. I waited in the dark until I saw his shadow through the curtain as he completed his normal nightly routine. He showered and did some homework before his light went out. I waited for an hour before making my move. I quietly went out my window and onto the strategically placed step stool wearing only a sheer pink camisole and nothing else; the night air did nothing for my nipples, since I was already horny as hell. If this worked, I knew I could definitely picture myself doing this again. And again. And again. I moved the stool to under Barrett's window. I had removed his screen with the screwdriver earlier so I crept through his window without so much as a peep. I was in. 

Barrett looked peaceful lying there. I held my breath as I slowly removed the sheet. He looked so delectable wearing only a pair of black boxers. As I carefully lowered the garment, Barrett moved slightly and made a diminutive noise, causing a moment of uneasiness for me. Soon, his breathing was normal, and I freed his manhood. I had never been more excited, both physically and emotionally. I licked my lips and lowered my mouth to his shaft. 




Mercy Date



Within moments, his flaccid member was growing. I smiled as I added my hand to the ministrations. Barrett began to stir. To keep him from shouting, I kissed him passionately while my hand did its playful foreplay with skill. Barrett mumbled into my mouth, eyes as wide as saucers. I slid into his bed, bringing my other hand to his face. I grinned with delight as I broke the kiss, tugging his lower lip with my teeth for the briefest of moments.

"Hi." It was all I said but I'm sure my eyes were saying plenty. It was more than lust I was feeling. I knew I wouldn't be happy without the man a mere breath away.

Despite Barrett's surprise, he responded in a hushed whisper, "Kylie, what are you doing here?" Then he shook his head, "How did you get in here?"

"Oh Barrett, you did something to me on prom night. I can't explain it, and I don't want to. I need you," I couldn't help a soft giggle. "I want to make love to you."

Barrett kissed me, and I took that as an invitation to straddle his rigid pole. I sank down and gasped. It was like heaven. I cannot accurately describe the joy I felt finally connecting with Barrett. His hands went to my hips as he gave me an upward thrust.

I yelped. Shit, that felt divine. A smile graced my face as I started to ride him. I was going slowly, and I couldn't seem to pick up my pace; it felt too damn good. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. He filled me so completely. 

Our rhythm steadily increased, and I felt Barrett's hands move up my body, exploring as they came to my breasts. Just the feathery touch sent electricity through my body. His fingers toyed with my nipples, causing me to squeal with delight. I moved my hands to his chest, lightly grazing his own through his chest hair. 

On every other impalement of my body, I added a corkscrew effect. The other times I would bury him inside and roll my hips. My orgasm was building with an acceleration I've never felt before. I leaned in. I gave him a kiss full of desire, need. Our tongues entwined, doing their own dance for the ages. He burst inside me and at the same time, I exploded on him, combining our own juices. It felt as if our souls intertwined.

We laid there, collecting our breaths. This wasn't lust for me; I truly felt love. I had to know the truth. I had to protect my heart. "Barrett, I have to know. Are you going to dump Natalie?"

Barrett smirked at me. "Natalie and I are just friends. I tutor her in math because she struggles with it. We are not together. And even if I wanted too, I'm sure her girlfriend would have a problem with that."

"What?" I sat there stunned, still loving the feel of his cock inside me. "I thought you two were a couple."

"I also told you I had no secrets. If you wanted to know something, ask." 

"I love you Barrett," I purred into his neck, my body snuggling closer to his. 

"I love you too, Kylie." I could feel the smile in his voice. "I have for a while now."

"Tell me we can spend tonight together. Tell me we can spend forever together." I bit my lower lip, praying for the response that my heart desperately needed to hear. Praying for my happiness.

Barrett kissed me with a passion. "For eternity Kylie."



Mercy For Death



Greetings to my dear readers, do you sit alone? I do hope so. For if your fingers find your own skin and feel a need to caress... If I can stir these feeling inside you then I have done my job telling a story of erotic nights and surrendered wrists to appetites unknown. Can you feel the heat in my tale? Then let us get to the story. Where most tales start at the beginning as to let the reader adjust to the place and time their mind now is pulled into, I am going to start this story right where is gets interesting. Right in the core of passion.

Chapter One: Meeting with the Angel of Death

Silken fingertips on her skin, my hands slaves to her body. The figure of her moving in the darkness, body arched as if a cat in heat. My lips on her neck, skin hot and almost scalding. She moans and it makes me take a step back my eyes looking at the door, the bolt still in place.

"Please good sir, do not leave me like this finish what you have started." Her breathy plea.

I grinned to myself keeping my fangs just under my lips. "And what have you milady? No resistance? No way of waiting?" 

She turned towards me and I saw the tears staining her pale cheeks, I would have to stop playing my games and take her to that place, a place where all the days stress dissolves. A place where I am her only love, where she is not a married girl of a poor house. 

"I beg of you!" She cried.

I nodded to her and took her face in my hands, "My sweet, we cannot continue this passion, you are married and I am not one to return to the same house twice."

She fell asleep in my arms as I spoke my magic on her skin, her body sagged against me and I smiled. Why did they always have to be this difficult, I offer them a lustful fantasy and they become addicted? I sighed and placed her tenderly on her old cotton sheets. 

"Goodbye milady...wake and love you husband..."

I escaped through her window and stared up at the dark night, no moon shown in the sky only a dark night with stars like diamond exceeding the blue. My cold body felt deprived and alone. I could have feed and I could have made love to the girl but without the chase and knowing I would be all she saw made me feel less apt then usual. Granted she was a beauty but it would be problematic more then helpful. I fisted my hands in my wispy brown curls, the color of chocolate. I felt the stirrings of hunger and need. This deadly hunger to be satisfied, a cursed hunger. No matter how many times I fed I would always remain empty and starved. Always feel like I needed more. Never happy with what I received or took. My dark lashes framed my needy golden eyes cupped with a hue of green. 

"Get off me wench! Or I swear you'll meet God before your time."

I heard a gruff voice, which sounded heavy with liquor.

"That's too bad! Give me back my coins or I will send you to hell where you belong, you drunkard."

I perked a slender brown brow at the ladies harshly innocent voice proceeding a large bang from where the voices continued. I listened intently.

"Whore you'll pay for that."

"I already have, just trying to get you erect, you'd be better of a eunuch since you cannot do anything with it."

I heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh the sound of abuse and fighting, better leave it alone. I never did like to bother with prostitutes and patrons. It was none of my business yet...

"Shite the whore, she died on me." 

Now that caught my attention, the man was a murderer, their blood was sick but always left me feeling like a saint. Hard to explain but I now had a craving to kill this man and drain him almost to the end letting him lay on his back in the street slowly leaving this world while people stared and did not attempt to help. My boots hit the cobblestone and I found a rather large man standing over a woman in a dirty yellow dress, No blood but the smell of disease and death. I caught the man in the throat my fangs sinking in just as quick as I appeared, his heart beating loudly in my ears. His blood salty and thick filling my veins as the blood flowed from his. I took his life down many years until he had maybe a few hours left. I then ripped my long fangs from his neck and let his body drop without care. I stepped over him and then over the prostitute, ready to go home since I fed I had no reason to wander, after all the dawn was fast approaching and I had a mile or so to go. A moan of pain reached my ears. 

"I don't want to die yet... help me please..." The girl whispered.

Now everything in my said to let her die to walk away and leave her there, but even as my mind spit out these thoughts I picked her up and felt her weightless and broken in my arms. I got a good look at her battered face, bruises blossomed on her left cheek and around her eye, her lip was split and caked with dry blood. She opened the eye that was untouched and stared at me with eyes the color of swirling despair that color was black. I have seen many eyes and hers stood out. They were hollow as the dead but I could see a slight glint of hope and strength in them. She coughed and winced bringing me back from the depths of her painful eyes. I carried the girl to an abandoned house where I placed her broken form down on a cot left behind by previous inhabitants. She screamed in agony as I put her down. Her hand flew to her chest.

"I can't breathe too much pressure...."

I ripped her dress from her chest and stared down at her breasts which would have been a magnificent sight, their roundness and shape more beautiful then Venus herself. The creamy color and ripe little nipples a sensational sight. I gasped at the extent of colorful bruises that extended from under her breast until her rib cage ended. I slowly and without too much pressure began to feel the bones across the cage of her heart, many broken and snapped. She had only a few nights to live. I looked back up into those swirling eyes of hurt and sighed. The pain was so strong it made my heart skip a few beats. Never in all my life, or lives all 172 years had I seen such a deep mounting pain and such a small glare of light protruding from the darkness a light of hope of wanting to survive. Of wanting to be happy. I did not know why she was a girl who pleasured men for money, I did not know why her pain seemed to delve straight into my heart and I did not know why I wanted to save her. When you have been a cursed creature for as long as I had there was nothing worth saving from death, nothing worthy of attention and understanding, all people began to feel like a repeat. I couldn't count how many women begged to be with me, how many would die to be loved by me, but not once had I cared about them. This woman wounded and without the heart to carry on got to me made me feel as if I were her only chance at life.

"I am going to die aren't I?" she whispered somberly.

I didn't answer instead I hesitated, as a vampire I do not ever hesitate to be truthful.

"Its only fair, after all a whore has no life..."

She grabbed for something to relieve the pain and found my hand, she grabbed it firmly and then smiled slightly.

"Think god would let me in heaven, or am I going to be one of many in hell?"

Was she really asking this? I didn't know what to say only that I was sorry.

"Sorry"

She held onto that one word the stranger whispered and slowly began to let herself die. His hand was cold, as cold as death. Death was mounting her taking her into her grave.

"Thank you for the hand, it feels a bit easier to die when someone is sad for me." she tried to smile but failed her young mouth collapsing into a frown. Her sadness overwhelming me. Her eyes haunted my very existence. 

I could cure her ailments if I bound her to my own heart's steady beat. Cleaver mistake thinking creatures of the night didn't have a heart, infact they felt more emotions then humans. Would she want this, this gift? She would not be immortal unless I willed it so... but to live? What would she have to go back to?

"If I could have lived life differently I would have been a angel." She laughed but it sounded like a tangled cry. "You know my mama died when I was young and my father sold me to an Irish man. He was kind to me..." She coughed. 

"Then he died when I was 14, I turned to selling myself..."

This girl spilling her heart into my emotions so strong I felt like I had known her for years. Her sad tale was nothing new, the desperate streets had thousands of sad endings but hers crept into my heart and made the organ hurt the way she hurt.

"You know today is my birthday, 16 I am."

I blinked my green-gold eyes at her and frowned. This girl was but a child. I tried to think of the many I met with cruel fate, the many who had been too young to die but passsed anyway the ones I could have saved but let die.

"Would you care for a kiss?" The first real words I had spoken to her.

"Even on my deathbed you wish me to waken your prick?" She sounded disgusted and angry.

"I will let you get some rest, It is now dawn and I must rest.... I have been awake all night." 

I turned from her harsh cynicism and broken spirit, did I have a reason to want her to believe I was different when in fact I wasn't. I had no right to try and give her the gift, no right at all. If this girl wanted to die then I would let her. I above all knew what it was like to want to die because life was cruel. I often wondered, with someone you love would it be so hard to will life within yourself? Alas love was a fleeting lie and a thing for artistic imagination. Could I grow to love her? I left the thought at that and left the room to find a tight-fitting closet or pantry of some kind. As the dawn took over the sky I fell into a deep sleep and her eyes darkening my dreams and haunting my thoughts.

I felt the stirrings of nightfall and mobilized my body. I could not get her out of my head. I went up stairs and pushed open the bedroom door, she lay still and unmoving. I rushed over to the small cot and felt for a pulse. Her pulse slow as if it might not start again for another beat. Her body was as cold as my own, which since I was death that was very cold. I grabbed her hands and placed them in mine blowing my hot breath onto them, her fingers began to warm. When I glanced at her sleeping face I became more aware, she had long raven hair to match the dark eyes, her hair was slightly curled at the ends, her lips were, if not for the cut, plump and full, she had a very sensual look about her. No wonder she was able to use her looks to get by. Her cheeks were the slightest pink I had to wonder if they were from the cold and sickness or a natural blush. She had a small sprinkle of freckles across her nose and two dimples on her cheeks. She was obviously young and very beautiful. Suddenly her eyes fluttered to life and she stared at me with those violently attractive eyes. 

"What is it you find so appealing about death sir, no one else would have dared pick up a stray whore... I might've been deceased or dead." She cursed "Shite on my grave you must be mad."

Such things shouldn't have come from such a delectable mouth. I smiled as pleasantly as I could and exposed my fangs.

She covered her mouth and let a prayer rest on her lips. "Dear father in heaven, hallow be thy name.... What are you?"

I lowered my eyes and whispered, "Cursed..."

I felt a hand on my own, just as cold. "Are you going to release me Angel of Death?"

I met her eyes with mine her pain as visible as my own she reflected something inside me that yearned to free her and I smiled charmingly, "Yes I am My Lady. I am here to bring you out of this misery, to liberate you from pain and despair, to see your eyes fill with that hope that is trying so hard to get out. I am here to unshackle your very soul and unleash you."

She stared at me with a grateful look, "Tell me Angel of Death will you make it painless... I am afraid." She closed her cruel orbs and whispered. "I knew you were an Angel from the moment you looked at me with those bright eyes of yours. Fangs like a demon, you are deceiving my lord I am not worthy of your mercy."

I leaned over her and then tucked my hands under her slender form and lifted her into my arms. I pulled her into my lap and slid my hands over her stomach wanting to ease her pain. I looked down at her and wished to take away that suffering heart. To bring her back. Then I softly moved away some of her dark hair which covered the nape of her curved neck like a curtain. My tongue flicked out to meet her skin, cold as ice. I longed to put a fire inside of her body and see her feel passion the way a man and women are meant to feel, not the icy embrace of a harlot. I inhaled her scent fresh, but ill. I knew once she did not hurt she would flourish. I held her close for an instant and just hovered my mouth over her skin, was this the right thing to do? Drain away her life in a pleasurable way. I was about to kill this girl, but was it really killing if she had the stench of death wrapped around her so tight I could not breathe when so close? 

Well dearest readers I hoped you enjoyed this story of passion and pain. Maybe it will not turn out the way it started, just like with life, things change and grow. Continue reading the second and last half of this story to find out what happens... you may catch yourself surprised...

Tell me did you enjoy the first chapter of this unique tale? Do you expect death or life to come of this? Give me your input my dearest reader and I shall give you an ending of endings... I will put up the second and last half along with an alternate ending if you will... because things don't always go as planned... but wouldn't it be nice to know what could have been? Stay tuned for chapter two: Released from Despair... Coming to you soon.



Mercy Point



Chapter 1: Disappearance

"Something's wrong" Sierra said more to herself than anything.

Sierra moved quickly across the room to the telephone that hung on the wall. The phone rang as she put her hand on it. She looked pale, as her trembling hand picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" Sierra said

"Person to Person call for Sierra Jones" a static filled voice answered back

"Yes, I'll accept" Sierra's voice trembled

"He's gone. He's dead! I know he's dead!" A tearful voice which belonged to Kennedy, Sierra's twin sister said before Sierra could even say anything.

"What do you mean 'He's dead?' Sierra responded

"He went in…."

"He went IN?" Sierra said in disbelief.

"Yes"

"Why?" Sierra asked suddenly not wanting to know the answer.

"He has to go get a body, that was two days ago." Kennedy cried, "He isn't back yet"

Sierra was silent, as her sister sobbed at the other end of the phone, this meant only one thing, and she didn't want to think about that. She shivered. 

"Do you have a car?" Sierra asked, bringing herself back from her nightmare.

"No, he took the car to get the body" Kennedy replied.

"Sit tight, I'll be there in an hour, pack a bag with a few essentials, I'm coming to get you."

"Okay" Kennedy said confused. "Why?"

"You know why… It's started." Sierra said in a matter of fact tone.

Sierra hung up the phone sharply, and grabbed her purse, heading out the door, slamming it behind her. She ran down a flight of stairs, almost tripping over the bottom step. Heading out into the cold autumn evening, she shivered as she entered her SUV, turning the key and adjusting her rearview, she swore as she pulled out of the driveway. She drove down Main Street, toward the bridge that headed out of town. She looked down long enough to get a cigarette from her purse and light it, when she looked up a tall creepy looking man was standing in the middle of the road. She let out a scream as she slammed her foot on the breaks. The vehicle stopped just inches from the old man, when she regained her composure she realized it was the town pastor, Preacher.

"Good Evening, Sierra" Preacher nodded. "Going somewhere in a bit of a hurry aren't we?" Now you must understand, Sierra could not stand this man, but yet she was somehow forced to be respectful, he was a creepy old guy who seemed to always reek of death, and old moldy books, her sister had been taught by this man, when they children, Sierra however had been taught at the school in Angel Grove. Preacher had always given Sierra the creeps, and tonight was no different.

"Yes, Preacher, I am on my way to go get my sister…" She trailed off knowing not to give too much information about a private family affair.

"Ahh yes, Kennedy, she was one of my more favorite pupils, bring her to see me when you return." Preacher said in what Sierra noted was an almost commanding tone of voice to which for some reason she felt compelled to comply with.

"Yes sir, I will" Sierra replied yieldingly.

Preacher left the middle of the road. Sierra proceeded forward toward the bridge, crossing it with a certain pounding in her throat like she was escaping a level five maximum security prison. She drove on through the winding roads, careful not to veer off the path, as it always did, it started to rain, but this was a strange thick rain that seemed to steam as it hit the ground. Sierra knew why, she didn't like the fact that she knew why, but be that as it may she knew she had limited time to reach her sister, and get her back to Mercy Point. Her mind slipped to thoughts of her friend Kelly… "No.. not both of them!" she screamed in the confines of the car. She put her foot down harder on the gas pedal, as she roared through the forest ridden pathway, her thoughts raced wildly, horrible visions raced through her head of corpses, fires, maggots, and lightning. Ok, calm yourself, Sierra, you are obsessing, you need to be strong for your sister, she needs you. Sierra sighed. She checked her watch, she should be there any moment. Sierra strained her eyes to see the light of the sign at the entrance to Angel Grove. She let out a sigh of relief as she saw the glowing sign, that welcomed her, as she entered the town the rain stopped. She knew this would happen, it always did, there was no explaining it, it just always happened.

Sierra drove down Main Street to Angel Grove Cemetery, and up to the house, in which the caretaker, Sierra's brother, lived. Sierra honked her horn, the curtains moved to the side to reveal a very pale, sickly looking girl about 24, with long dark hair. Kennedy waved to Sierra and put up a finger, Sierra muttered to herself "come on come on!" Kennedy came running out of her door, and climbed into Sierra's vehicle, threw her suit case in the back, and was trying to unsuccessfully buckle her seatbelt when Sierra peeled out of Kennedy's driveway. Kennedy smacked her head against the window in the process. 

"Jeez Sierra, you act like if we don't head back this instant, we won't be able to get back"

Sierra glanced at her sister with a haunted look. Kennedy gasped and went even paler than she naturally was. Sierra nodded solemnly. They drove in silence out of town. As they exited Angel Grove the rain resumed pounding on Sierra's windshield. The vehicle ascended up the hill and back into the forested maze, which lead to Mercy Point. The girls resumed there quiet way until they got to the crossroad that everyone feared so much. This was a place where if you choose wrong you put your life in the hands of a force much larger than yourself. Sierra did this on an almost daily basis. Kennedy however did not, and Sierra could feel the fear flowing out of her sister as she pulled to a stop. The road was clear, so filling her heart with hope she drove on.