1 comments/ 14417 views/ 2 favorites House of Syn Ch. 01 By: MSTarot (I ask that any who even think of following this type of fetish go get a blood pathogens test done for both partners. The risk to your health is incredibly great. With that note of warning enjoy the story) Chapter 01: Father of Syn Pulling the car to a halt in the parking lot of my club I shut off the old beast and open the door. It protests being opened with a casket like creak. Getting out I stretch, inwardly cussing the unholy hour of the day. I look at the setting sun and want to flinch away from it. Grabbing my sunglasses from my pocket, I clamp them to my nose hiding my eyes from the light. Looking into the windows of my black T-bird I agree with my reflection ... it's too damn early. I walk away listening to the engine with it customary pinging of cooling metal. The smell of hot oil and brakes is in the air around it. I unlock the large wrought iron gateway and push the doors open. The first guest will be coming in soon. Beth will be here sooner. I smile thinking about my wife. She called me and woke me to see if I would come to the club early today. Like I would refuse her anything. Especially this. As I walk past the tombstones draped in dead roses I check out the front of the club. With the sun still up it has the same feel as a haunted house in the daytime. Like something's not right about seeing it before dark. Like a very important part of it's being is missing. I run the tips of my fingers across Aleister Crowley's stone. My black nails catching in the granite's rough texture. Reaching into my jacket I take out a single red rose and lay it on top of the pile of withered ones before the stone. His is one of the most popular in the graveyard. Among the men at least. Elisabeth's Bathory's stone is almost hidden under the piles of roses. As I stand up a yawn threatens. Like the prophet I wish I was asleep. Maybe just like him. I shrug away that thought. Tonight was going to be fun. I need to stay on an upbeat as much as I can. Looking up at the dark neon lights above the door, I smile. 'Sanctuary' Home. Unlocking the thick wooden doors I swing them open. The inside of my club seems to protest the light as it comes through the doorway. It eats it, swallowing the offender whole into its dark depths. Just as it swallows the part of me called Todd. I give a shrug and a side neck pop as the part called Syn steps to the forefront. Walking through the hanging chains and into the large open entrance. I flip on the lights by the doorway. Again I feel an almost angry grumble from my club as I wake it too early. I smile. Like me it will enjoy this night enough to be worth the indignant awakening. Especially when Beth gets here. Beth? The name sounds almost strange to me now. Looking into the large black framed mirror opposite the door I see myself realize why. Syn doesn't really know a Beth. He knows a Baethny. Baethny the Daughter in Syn. My daughter? No...but most of the people who come here think that. I grin at my white haired reflection. I aged quickly my hair going white before I was thirty. Baethny...well she could on a good day maybe look twenty. Not bad for a woman approaching thirty-five. I walk down the red carpeted hallway to the former chapel in this old funeral home. Past the doors that open into rooms where bodies where shown. I look into them as I pass seeing the various themes. The sweet smell from the leather room, that acidic smell that new leather has. It had cost us a fortune to have the walls done in leather but it had been worth it just for that smell. As I walk past the bondage chamber I see a whip has been left out on the table. I cross to it and shiver at the sensations of pleasure pain I feel from its worn handle. I hang it on the wall next to all its brothers and sisters. My fingers brushing the thongs as I walk away. I can almost feel the hot crack across my spine again as I pass an old friend of mine. I run a finger across the soft leather top of the whipping horse just as I leave the room. In the chapel I go to the long bar with it massive wooden top. A single peace of wood twenty feet long, five feet wide, it's top a swirl with intricate patterns and whorls. The legend goes it was sawn a century and a half ago from a massive tree in California. It lived most of it's life after that in a brothel in Texas. It's a good legend. I started it myself. Getting a lighter from the bar I go around and light the dozens of incense bowls, the drifting smoke from them only strengthens the now permanent smell of sandalwood and frankincense the room will forever have. I lower the five massive candle chandeliers down to the tabletops they hang over. I light the hundreds of candles, replacing the few dozen that have died and gone to candle heaven. As I pull back up the last one I see a single drop of wax fall to the table top under the first one I lit. The chandeliers would weep hot tears all night. Going to the bar I reach under it and open a small sliding panel. I pull out one of the few remaining bottles of true European absinthe. I've have had them smuggled to me by friends over the years. I opened this bottle last Saturday and it's all but gone. Counting the remaining bottles, I know I need to make a few phone calls some times soon. I'm getting out sugar cubes and glasses when I hear Baethny's bike pull into the parking lot. Knowing I have a few minutes, I go through the ritual of properly fixing a drink of absinthe. There is just enough in the bottle for her and myself a drink. I sit the empty bottle on the dark wood bar mourning its loss. I watch a single wet line run down it's side. I pity that waste. The trickle of cold water melts the sugar cube as I ever so slowly poor it over the silver spoon. When it gone I give the drink a stir with the spoon watching the white green liquid. The anise scent comes to my nose and I wonder again how many thousands of these drinks this spoon has stirred. The spoon, unlike the bar top, really is over a hundred years old. I can hear her heels even on the carpeted floor of the hallway. As she steps into the chapel I start my eyes at her feet. The five-inch black stiletto boots encase her to the knees in shiny ebony. The crisscross of black fish nets starts there and running up her thighs to just under the edge of her short skirt. I can see the clamps of her garter belt pulling at their tops. The short skirt of black Spanish lace rides atop an under skirt of red satin. Her midriff is bare above the wide shiny belt that encircles her narrow waist. A red bra top shows through the short sleeved jacket of black lace. At her throat is my collar. It's metal ring begging for it's leash. Maybe later. I watch her take the dark purple Gargoyles from in front of her eyes. The kohl above her eyes making them shine out at me. She shifts her head and the shadowy black hair with its red tips falls in front of her face hiding it from me. My eyes drop to the silver armor ring on her right hand. The razor tip glitters in the pale candlelight. The jeweler who made it for me thought I was crazy to have a ring made with a scalpel on the end of it, but then he doesn't know me. Or Baethny. The Daughter in Syn. My eyes go up from the ring across the black lace gloves she wears to the dark bands of tribal tattooing that runs up her arm and across her shoulder. I'm one of the very few who know that it does covers her 'whole' right side. Only her face has nothing not given by needle and ink. I don't speak to her, nor she to me. We never have, not here. Not in 'Sanctuary'. Here there is no need for words between us. Only need for... need. Not taking my eyes off her, I never do when she's in the mood I know her to be in, I reach over the bar to flip the switches. With a thunder of sound all three sound systems start up. I turn the dial and lower the volume to manageable levels. Set to different genres of music they fill the bar with soft sounds that blend with no kind of harmony, but impose one by shear will. 'Siren' by Theater of Tragedy, wars for dominance with piano by Chopin. My vote is for them till the powerfully angry cello of Tina Guo comes alive. I pick up our drinks and take Baethny hers. The thick glass a swirl with cloudy greenish white. Baethny takes hers and inhales the scent. She moved the glass from under her nose to met mine as I lift mine in toast. There is no need for words. We both know the toast is to each other. I watch her shiver in pleasure as I sip at mine. The green anise a sweet bitter rush of flavor across my tongue. Sitting her glass to the side half-finished she glides the last steps to me. She rests her face against my chest, looking down I can feel a tremble in her as my hands come to rest on the soft lace on her shoulders. Beth told Todd earlier on the phone that she had been having a 'bad day' Syn knows without words that Baethny has spent the day screaming. I lift her chin with a hand and look down into her eyes. I kiss her. I taste her lips reveling in the mixture of her and absinthe that my tongue gathers in. The soft feel of her lips, the slick feel of her dark black lipstick. I feel cold metal on the side of my face as her lips pull away. I watch unmoving as she backs up a step. I try not to shiver as I feel the scrap of the side of her ring across my cheek. I watch her dark eyes as it goes over my jaw and crosses my jugular. Her hand stops at the top button of my shirt. A curl of her finger and the button drops to the floor. I watch her unblinking eyes as it brothers soon join it by my feet. She slides my shirt off my chest. It comes to hang like a black kilt around my belted waist. At her silent command I back up till the back of my thighs are against one of the big tables. I feel the sharp point as she centers it between my pecks on my bare chest. When my leather-encased leg hit the wood the point pierces my skin. I flinch, but remain quiet. I feel the hot trickle flow a second latter down my chest. A low moan escapes me when I feel her mouth on me in a rush. Her tongue is hot against my skin as she licks the carmine trail from by my belly button back up to the puncture. I feel the lace of her jacket brush my chest as she places her mouth on the bleeding wound and sucks hard at my skin. I give a jerking gasp as hot wax falling form above hits my shoulder and back. I shudder as I begin to anticipate the next one to fall. For several minutes she licks and sucks at my chest. Greedily taking from me. I give the occasional flinch when the wax greets me with heat. A wet sound other than her licking attracts my attention then. Opening my eyes I look down past her breast and see her hand up under her skirt. I can tell by the sound I'm hearing she is fingering herself with a fury. She shouldn't have to do that. I can see that the wound on my chest has almost stopped bleeding. I catch her around her waist and lift her feet off the floor. Taking a half dozen steps I sit her on top of the bar. Looking up at her face I watch her lick the last drops of crimson off the black lipstick. Placing my hand between her breast, feeling the red silk soft and warm under my fingers, I push her back onto the bar top. She leans her face against one of the tall copper draft pulls. I watch her lick the side of the tap, her piercing clicking on the metal. I run my hands down her side across her hips then down the length of her legs. My fingers revel in the texture of her fishnets. When I touch leather I step back a bit and lift one of her boots. I caress the shiny warm leather my fingers trace the curve of the dangerously sharp stiletto heel. Moving a hand up her inner calf I catch the zipper and start to very slowly pull it down. Leaning in I let my tongue taste the side of her boot, as I look down into the dark place between her thighs. I see nothing, but skin under the red satin skirt. Slipping off her boot I bring her foot to my mouth and place soft kisses against the side from her toes to the heel. The warm fabric of her stocking carries the smell of leather from her boot along with a darker musky smell from where her feet have sweated in the thick leather boots. I kiss the round bump of her heal, then nibble at the side of her ankle. I pull her fish nets away from her skin with my teeth then let them lose. I pull her foot to my chest and holding her firm by her ankle I place soft kisses on the tips of her toes. I can see the dark red polish under the cloth. I let my teeth scrap the top and bottom of her big toe for a second then I begin to kiss my way down the inside of her foot. I pass her ankle again, kissing up past it I follow the soft curve of her calf muscle. The line where her boot had been is like a border between nations. The leather smell on one side, a totally different smell on the other. I'm determined to track that smell to it's source. Running my hands up ahead of my mouth I feel satin then warm skin even softer than satin. My hands cup her ass cheeks as I kiss down into her inner thigh. The smell of her sex drawing me down to it like a wolf to prey. My tongue lashes at the warm metal of her pierced hood. I move the metal ball around with my teeth making her squirm. I lick slow long even strokes through her labia feeling the folds of skin slip into my mouth, I suck at them. I fell her hand come to rest on the top of my head her fingers warm and demanding as she forces me deeper into her. I drive my tongue as far into her as I can, lapping at the deliciously thick fluids I find there. My chin grows wet as her juices run down my face. I turn my face to the side when her hand with the metal ring brushes the side of my cheek. I hear an audible gasp from her then a low moan. My mouth is flooded with the taste of copper pennies. I lick at the red flow following it to the source, the small cut on her thick outer lips near her hood. I latch my mouth onto it like a leach and suck in the taste of blood and pussy. I feel her shift under me and then the back of my head is being driven into her by the warm leather of her boot. I feel the sharp stiletto heel touch my shoulder and like a spur I double my efforts to pleasure her. I feel her fingers curl into my hair, then they tighten. I listen with pride and pleasure as I hear the intake of air that proceeds her 'orgasmic death scream' as she calls it. Her loud cry of pleasure fills the bar and drowns out the music. Her warm wet thighs press hard on the sides of my face as her boot drives me into her. I feel a moments panic when I can't breath. I feel pity for anyone who was ever been water boarded as she lets lose a near flood of moisture under my mouth. I feel her hand leave my head and the sound of metal on wood as she digs the armor ring into the bar top. My hand snakes out to catch the Absinthe bottle when I hear her knock it over. The cold smooth glass under my fingers gives me an idea and when she relaxes enough I pull away. Looking down at the wet folds of skin,I watch the little trickle of blood that still trails down into her. The glass top of the bottle enters her suddenly. She arches her back up off the top of the bar as the neck of the bottle widens. Ignoring her piteous moans I lean back in when I have it as deep as I wish it to go and begin to lick around where the cold glass meets the warm skin. My mouth is assaulted with a mixture of tastes. I taste her, and from the bottle I taste raw absinthe, but over it all there is the coppery taste of her blood. Turning the bottle in my fingers making it spin in my hand I lick as hard as I can from between the cut to her clit and back. Minutes feel like hours as I devourer her flesh into my mouth, reveling in the taste of her blood. The violence of her orgasm scares even me! I pull up away from her, taking in the sight of her black fingernails digging into the wood of the bar top. The scalpel blade sunk at least a quarter of an inch into the old wood. Her legs tremble and her booted foot comes up to the center of my chest. I feel the stiletto hit with unplanned perfection on the place she cut before. I stumble back when she kicks me away from her, yanking the bottle from inside her as I go. And I thought she was violent before! My nearest neighbor is the length of my parking lot and theirs away and I'm seriously wondering about the possibility of the police being called! I watch her eyes roll up into her head and then she goes slack. Her feet slip off the bar top to hang down, her heel slowly swaying to tap the wood. I watch the rise and fall of her breast with concern for several seconds. Walking back the few steps to her I place the blood and juice smeared bottle back on the bar. I place a hand on her bare stomach and give her a little shake. I see her eyes flutter for a second. Her breathing slows. "Beth..." I start the word but don't get more than the first part of it out. I stumble back from the bar clutching at the left side of my face! A hot line of fire runs from by my ear to just beside my mouth. Then the warmth spreads to cover the whole of my face as the sting of the slap registers above the pain of the cut. I pull my hand away from my face and look at my blood covered palm. I look back at the bar in disbelief Baethny, the Daughter in Syn is sitting up with a look of true horror on her face. Her mouth, hidden under her hands. Tears flow out from her eyes as she hops down from the bar top. She lands on the one boot and with a limping gait comes to me. Her hands come to my face. I flinch away from the one with the blood tipped ring. Panting in fear she takes my chin and turns my head. I feel her hands pulling me down. She gently runs a finger down beside the cut. I see a look of relief pass across her face for a second. For only a second. Then another look replaces it. It is the most raw, pure look of lust I have ever seen in a woman's face! Her tongue lashes the line of fire as she pulls me into her. I feel the blood smear up the side of my face, pushed away from her mouth by the force of what she's doing. Panting, shaking she clutches at me lashing my skin like a large cat licking blood from it's prey. The feeling is just like that! I see an orgasmic shudder shiver her from the top of her head down! She drops to her knees in front of me, her fingers clawing at the buckles of my belt, the buttons of my pants. I feel air on my cock for only a second then it's in the warm depths of her mouth. I moan as I feel her suck the length of my painfully hard cock into the wet warmth of her throat. I hear a gag sound then feel her clutching at my hips and ass determined to keep me at depth. Her teeth rake the side as she pulls back gasping for air, then I'm again feeling the constriction of her throat around the head of my cock. The warm plastic feel of her lips under the thick lipstick as they clamp onto the base. Then the wonderfully sinful feeling of her tongue going to work on the underside of my cock. My hands go to the top of her head by their own accord. The fingers curling onto the black and red tresses. A slow in out pump through her lips starts with out any thoughts from me. As I start to move her head, fucking her mouth with the length of me I listen to the wonderfully obscene sounds coming from her mouth. The wet slurp from her as she works nonstop on me even as I fuck her lips. Too much has happen, I've been hard for too long. I feel the begins of my cum as it starts to rise. I beg inwardly for it to hold off and at the same time for the release. She takes the decision from me. Her fingers in the scratchy lace gloves curl around the bottom of my cock allowing only the head and an inch or so to enter her mouth. I feel her fingers tighten painfully hard around me. House of Syn Ch. 01 Like a tourniquet! I realize what she has in mind as it happens! I feel the nick of steel just behind the head of my cock as a sharp sting of pain! I scream out as the pain of it hits me, then leaves. Driven away by the rising flood of my orgasm. My cock floods her mouth with a mixture of cum and blood! I cry weeping at the shuddering beauty of the sensations I'm feeling. She sucks at me unmercifully, draining me to my depths. Then pulling for more. Panting I kind of curl around her head a bit, leaning over. I feel the warm tickle of her hair on my lower stomach I cry out as an almost unheard of second orgasm is pulled from me! I feel my legs giving way. I push her from me and to the floor. I collapse into a chair. I sit panting. I look from where my cock is drooling cum and blood down the sides of my leather pants up to her. She has a hungry look to her still. Slowly I watch her crawl over to me. Her silver ring scrapping the polished concrete floor. I watch with some apprehension as she lick the sides of my leather pants; she ever so gently nuzzles the tip of my cock with her lips. Her tongue taking up a string of cum. I lean back. I look at her face, her makeup is smeared, and her chin is red with my blood. A shiny string of pinkish cum hangs from her lips down to the tops of her red satin bra, in an obscene manner. She has never looked darker. More beautiful. I watch unable to really move as she slowly gets to her feet. I watch her slip back on her boot. Still having made no move to put away my flaccid cock. The effort of that alone maybe too much for me. Tenderly she comes to me. She places my drink by my elbow. From her small clutch purse she takes out an almost tiny first aid kit and begins to work on my cuts. I sit sipping the slightly bittersweet drink watching her. She gets up and moves over to the bar then comes back. Looking up at the bar I see the glitter of the sharp point of her ring laying next to the empty bottle were she left it. I relax knowing it over. The wet rag is cool and soothing as she cleans me up. It's Baethny who makes the effort to get me back into my pants. I do finally move to help when I hear voices from the front of the club. For a second I wonder if it might truly be the police given all the screaming. Then I recognize voices. A wonderful giggly young woman in a schoolgirl skirt all but skips to my side when she steps into the chapel. She wraps herself around my neck hugging me. "Oh Papa Syn! I've misses you!" I hug her back my brow furling. I saw her only last Saturday night. Not so very long to miss someone I think. Then I think back to that night. Well maybe from her point of view it could be. "I've missed you as well Zazzel." I tell her with the sexy whisper that I know gets her going. She shiver squeals then kisses my cheek. I see her eyes widen for a second. Then a wicked smile comes to her child like face. "I love you cologne Papa Syn." She whispers back. Smiling I look up to Baethny. She's standing behind he bar She eyes me with a smile as she pours a row of shot glasses full from a bottle of Jagermeister. She looks at Zazzel with a knowing smirk as she sits the bottle back into the freezer. I see her go to wipe the counter down with the rag she cleaned me up with then I see her stop. "Papa?" I look down at Zazz. "Yes my dear?" "Why don't you and Daughter ever talk to each other here at the club?" she runs a finger across the Band-Aid on my cheek "and what happen to your face?" I look up at Baethny. I watch as she lifts bloody fingers from the pool on the bar top. She turns to the big mirror. I watch as with her own blood she slowly writes on the silvery glass. 'God help us all.' "Well Zazz I cut myself shaving, and I don't speak to Baethny..." I look up at my wife that most people think is my daughter. Her eyes met mine as she licks her blood from her fingertips. "Because between us silence speaks volumes." I watch her eyes go to Zazzel as she slips the silvery ring back onto her sucked clean finger. I smile. House of Syn Ch. 02 Chapter 02: Daughter of Syn I ease my bike in next to Todd's antique car and shut it down. The lack of vibration from the big motor between my legs comes as a sudden disappointment, even though I knew it was about to happen. Running my gloves over the goose bumps on my bare legs,shivering at the feel of my hands, in lace, on cold skin. I squeeze my breast in the satin bra, my nipples are painfully hard from the cold wind. I love the feeling. Lifting my helmet off, I place it between the handlebars, I pull my goggles down. They bump my collar with a leather on leather sound. With reluctance I peal my naked sex off the tank. I can see the line of moisture where it was. I smile as I settle my skirts. I undo the knot and pull my scarf from my head and stuff it into the inside of the helmet. I place my goggles there as well. Looking in the window of Todd's car I use it as a mirror to adjust my hair. A glint of red light flashes my eyes as the setting sun slips from behind a billboard. I pull my Gargoyles from my clutch purse. I also take out my ring. I slip the most prized item of jewelry I have ever had onto my finger. Not even the silver and diamond ring on my other hand truly means as much to me. I lift the blade into the dying sun light, again mesmerized by the play of light and shadows through the engraved surface. The sun's reflection distracts me from what could have been a long session of enraptured gazing. I place my sunglasses on my nose and turn towards the iron gates. I stop and remember the gift on the back of my bike. As I lift the roses from the seat box I see again the wet spot I left on the tank. I caress it, thanking my 'Ninja' lover for the pleasure he gave me. My heels clicking on the stone walk as I go through the large gates and walk with no distraction to the shrine of my saint. I drop to my knees in front of the rose enshrouded stone of white marble. Placing the half dozen roses next to it, I trace my silvery ring across the letters of her name. My deadly Elizabeth. The woman for which I was named. Beth. The name I rejected. I feel it dropping away from me as I kneel in the sun warmed grass, smelling the rose perfume. I feel Baethny settle about my shoulder with a feeling not unlike the lace jacket that I wear. It's the Daughter in Syn that arises from before the grave of a murderess. It's 'the Daughter' as they call me here that walks through the hanging chains into 'Sanctuary'. My club, my place of business. My home. I can smell the various scents as I pass the rooms going to where I know Syn will be. Leather predominates, but hidden among it, masked by it, is the old smell. The smell that was here the first day we came to look at the property. They say you never can truly get out the smell of decay. Who would want to hide so sweet a perfume? I see my Syn by the bar as I step into the chapel. Incense wafts in slowly drifting spirals from the bowls. The smell of burning candles. And death. Even here, in this place of old worship. If you know what your smelling it's there. I feel his eyes on me; I lift my glasses from my face and meet his gaze for a second then look down. The proper lady in the presence of her husband. I feel my hair cover my face. I can feel his eyes on me as I stand still for his inspection. I only glance up when I hear music. I know this will be a good night when three of my favorites begin to play together. Like rowdy children they seem to squabble till Tina brings them all into order with her power. I watch him move. Encased in black leather pants and a charcoal gray shirt my Syn is beautiful to behold. His hair, a stark white, falls to mid back, held back from his face with a bit of leather from one of the broken whips. I remember the night I broke the thong across his back in my excitement. He was whipped bloody yet totally in control of me that night. He hands me my glass. I lift it to my nose and shiver as the sexy smell floods my senses. I smile as He offers a silent toast. I drink half of mine in three quick sips. The weight of the day settling onto me again in his presence. I set down my glass and go to him. I feel his powerful hands on my shoulders holding me in his protective embrace. The feel of the linen shirt under my face distracts me. I want bare skin. He lifts my face and places a soft kiss upon my lips, then a second harder one, his tongue demanding entrance. I give it, but feel my blood rise at the presumption. As I step back from him I rest my ring on his cheek and slowly slide the edge of the blade across his skin. I leave not a scratch. I cut only when I mean too. I send a button to the floor. Then another. Then all the rest. I slip his shirt free to fall and hang from his waist, like black discarded skin. Looking into his eyes I place my finger into the middle of his chest and push him to the table behind. I see the flinch when he hits the wood. I watch the red trail with horrible fascination as is snakes its way across his hairless chest. Stooping down I lick the essence of life from his skin back to the place I cut him. I shiver and my breath becomes a pant as I start to suck at the flow from its source. Dropping my hand to my thigh and I slide it up my legs under my skirt and into the warm pool that is my sex. The hard metal of my ring finds the hard metal of my piercing. I shiver as the two meet like old lovers. I can feel the dangerously sharp edge brush my skin, maybe shaving away the few remaining hairs I may have missed. I can hear a slick wet sound as I feel the flood begin. I have always been a very wet woman when aroused. The taste of his blood in my mouth has always been the strongest aphrodisiac I know. His hands close on my waist and he lifts me effortlessly into the air. He carries me to the bar. The polished wood spanks my ass hard as he sets me down. His hand is strong demanding me to lay down. I feel the cold metal of the draft pull next to my face I turn and lick the copper sides of the pipe. A taste of old beer and copper, like the blood of a drunkard maybe. I writhe feeling his hands on me. I watch as he worships my boot like a proper slave should. He can be that. A slave who is still the master because he lets himself be the slave for his own pleasure. I shiver at the hot fell of his breath on the side of my foot as he kisses first one side then the other. Then his lips descend down my leg. I shudder in anticipation of his lips on my lips. His hands, hard and firm cup my ass cheeks as he lifts me to his mouth. The feeling of his mouth as he moves the hood piercing around is like nothing I can describe. Until it had the piercing done I could not even have imagined this pleasure let alone describe it to someone who doesn't have one. Then his tongue is all over me. Exploring places it's been so many times before. Like walking the halls of your house in the dark. Knowing where to step without the need for light. Reaching down I slide my ring to the side of my clit. The metal brushes the piercing. I moan as I tap the blade into my skin to the side. I feel the blood engorged skin release it bounty to his tongue. I feel the rough edge of his tongue lashing at the bloody flow. I bring my leg around to the back of his head and my hand to the top. He confessed to me once he loves the feeling of being smothered in a woman's wet lips. I oblige him as often as I can. I clutch at the bar tap as he goes to work on me with a pleasure and a skill I have never found the equal of. My fingers dig into his hair as I feel a rush starting deep inside me. It comes up from my spine in a tingling flow that has me moaning, then screaming. I clutch him to me tightly as I shudder and scream. I rest my face against the cold metal as he moves away from me. Then I'm penetrated! It goes into me in a steady push, slick and cold feeling. I feel my lips distend outward as it thickens. I moan when pleasure takes a turn towards pain. Still he pushes it into me. Then I feel his tongue back at work. It runs around the edge of the glass and my skin pushing me into the bumpy bottle. Then his tongue is back at the cut. Then back at my clit. I can't stand it any more! With a scream that strips my throat I cry to the heavens for release. The goddess answers me with a black shroud that closes around me like the gentle night. I wake slowly wishing I hadn't, I feel a soft hand on my stomach. It shakes me. "Be..." That name! Spoken here! I'm sitting up on the bar looking at him before I even realize what I have done. I bring my hands to my mouth in horror. The blade of the ring before my eye is dripping blood to my cheek. I feel it washed away by my tears as I hop down and go to him. I hurts me to see Syn flinch from my touch. I take his face in firm hand and inspect the damage. I sigh in relief that it's only a little more than a deep scratch. Then I see the drop of blood drip from his chin to his chest. I attack his face with a fury I can't contain. I drive pools of blood before my tongue seeking to swallow it all. Shivering as the hot coppery flavor floods my mouth with a pleasure taste I love second only to one. And I want that one. My knees hit the cold floor with hard sharp pain. I snatch at his belt and tear the buttons open on his pants. His cock as I pull it out is already dripping a stream of cum from the tip. I take him deep into my mouth tasting precum and leather and sweaty man all at once. It mixes with the blood taste to drive me to heights of lust I rarely reach. I clutch at him fighting my bodies safely switches. I push him deeper even as I feel myself needing to breathe. The rush of that is intense. I knew from this feeling what he had meant when he said he likes to be smothered in pussy. Unable to breathe, choking on his cock, I finally have to pull back. A short breath to still my panicked lungs and I'm back with my nose pressed into the soft skin at the base. I move my tongue the metal ball tracing a thick vein on the underside. His hands take hold of my head and he puts my mouth to it's true purpose. I feel the control of my master as he takes control from me. I feel the wet weep down my thighs as he uses my mouth for his pleasure. I begin to miss the blood taste I had at first. It's been washed away by spit and cum. I want it back. I bring my hand up to his cock and wrap my fingers around it. I let the head pump my lips as I tighten my fingers. I feel the tip engorge with blood. The cut is minimal. But the flesh is so blood filled it sprays into my mouth. I swallow it down only to be filled again. Then warm cum joins the taste and the two mix to become my new favorite taste. I feel my cheeks suction in by the force of my mouth. I do not relent the taste is so overwhelming I want more, More, MORE! And then my wishes are granted. I feel a second flow poor out onto my tongue. I swallow this blessing as he shudders. I'm thrown to the floor as he collapses into the chair panting for breath. I sit there breathing hard watching him watching me. My eyes drop to where he's leaking all over his leather pants. Wastes not, want not. I crawl to him and clean the flow from the warm leather. In long slow licks. I look up at him. I smile. My darling Syn is spent. Drained in all ways. I climb to my feet and go to get my clutch purse. I retrieve his drink and kill the rest of mine at the same time. With gentle care I clean up his cuts, washing the skin with a mind to his pain. I bandage the deep place on his face and the puncture on his chest. The one on his cock has already stopped. I hear laughter in the distance. I place him back into his pants. His fingers begin to help mine as he hears the voices. I go to the bar when they walk in. Several of our regulars. Some I know very well indeed. I watch the red head Zazzel go to him. I smile as she hugs him. I know my smell is all over him. One of them asks if it's too early for some shots of Jagger. "Only if you have no desire to remember the night." I tell him smiling Bringing out the frost-covered bottle I fill a line of glasses. I smile at Syn and the girl. One toy a night was our deal. We each may choice one toy a night to play with if we wish. Looks like Zazz is offering herself as that for tonight. As I wipe the bar I stop seeing the pool of blood on the counter. Blood and my juices. I dip my fingers into it and turn to the big mirror behind me. The line from the 'Watchman' comes to mind. I write it on the silvery surface in the mixture of juices. "God help us all' Sucking my fingers like they're candy I turn and look back at Syn. Our eyes meet and I see his feral grin. I lift my ring from the bar and slide it up my stained lace. Baethny the Daughter in Syn. 'The Daughter'. I eye the young woman draped around my Syn with the look of a child in a candy story. Yes she will be sweet. House of Syn Ch. 03 Chapter 03: Tragedy of Syn There is a haze of incense smoke that drifts ghost like around the rooms. Foggy sad little wraiths of smoke. I can smell other types of smoke under its sandal wood smell. I know a few of my guest make use of the little side rooms for more than a few stolen kisses. I have even been given warnings by the local police about what they will do to me should they come here and find such. Let them come. I know what guests do what and I have ways of hearing about such things before they happen. They will find nothing. Walking past the leather room I stop and look at the whipping horse. A top has his sub draped over it and is administering slow lashes. I watch then move forward. I smile at him as my hand catches his wrist. He may be the master between them but here in my club I'm the master of all. I adjust his grip just an inch or so and step back out the way. When he swings again I see the look on his face. The understanding that follows. He was giving pain without need. The lash lands with every bit as much force but the angle is better. The smack louder. Her pleasure more. I can see it on her face. I leave the room. I'm in far too dark a mood for it. I would be dangerous to a sub tonight. Stepping into the chapel I see 'The Daughter' at the bar talking to one of our regulars, Divine. Probably not her real name but then there is a lot of that going on here. The bulge in the front of her pants gives claim to her desire for satiation tonight. The women of the club tonight however don't seem interested. I run a hand up her back, my fingers caressing those powerful muscles that years in the gym have give to her. The corded bands of strength that might give even my bouncers pause. "Papa Syn. I was just telling Daughter here that I may have to go down to the Gilded Lilly. I can't seem to find anyone wanting to play with me tonight." She says with a pout. I curl my fingers into the back of her neck. "You didn't ask me yet." I say grinning. Divine smirks. "You know better Syn. I love cock so long as it's not original equipment. I'm an aftermarket kind of girl." Her drink, straight whiskey, makes a clink against the large men's ring on her hand. "Oh I know that...But I would love to change your mind." I tell her teasingly. I look to Baethny and see a faint smile grace those black lips. She would love to play with this powerful woman. Divine gives a chuckle and looks to Baethny. "What is it with guys and lesbians? Everyone of them thinks that all it takes is one night with them and we will flip." She chuckles and sits her glass back down. I see the bottle as the Daughter fills it unasked. She has expensive takes in whiskey, good taste ...but expensive. "With him...you might." Says Baethny with a smile that is pure lust for those those know what to look for. "If nothing else he would simply watch as you played with me." I can see her hesitate looking from the Daughter to me and back. A snort then a slight shake of her head is proceeded by a grin. "Let me think about it. I have to say the Idea of a guy watching as I do his ...wife...has crossed my mind." Divine turns to me and runs a hand across my chest then catches my chin in her powerful fingers. "Who knows I get bored with her I might do you for the fun of hearing a guy squeak." "You would have to be a lot more powerful than you look" I stop and slowly grin "...to get bored with her. But if you do well ...we will see who does what to whom at that time." She gives me a smirk for a half-second then looking into my eyes it slowly disappears. Leaving the bar I head for one of the tables to talk to a friend I'm half way there when I hear my name being called. "Syn!" Looking toward the small side door that leads to my office I see Gregory holding his hand beside his head his thumb at his ear finger at his mouth. I nod and turning to look back at Bethany I catch her attention. To her quirked eyebrow I make the same gesture after point to my chest. She nods under standing. Stepping into the office my ears ring as the door closes. Two inches of cork under the paneling. The second smartest investment in the whole club. Silence can be a hard thing to find here at times. Sitting down in the soft black leather chair I pick up the phone and hit the button. "Sanctuary, Syn speaking." "Ah...I asked to speak to a Todd Mercer?" The voice is hesitant unsure of itself. But under that is a professional quality. That feeling of a person that's on the phone a lot. Also a sense of authority rings through. "That would be me." I say after a second. I had to answer to my name here. It feels like I'm lying. Syn is many things but a liar isn't one of them. "Mr. Mercer this is sergeant Wilks at the east precinct. I'm calling to ask if you can come to Montclair hospital...there has been an accident. I understand from a number we found in her purse that you were married to a Frances Moore. Both she and her daughter are here in ICU." "I'm on my way." The phone misses the base as I grab my coat off the wall hook. The thunder of the club washes over me as I cross the distance to where Baethny is talking to one of the customers. She doesn't notice me, her back is to me. I catch her arm as she goes to move towards the bar. For a half second I see her fire, then she sees my face. "Angel and Frances are at Montclair." She nods her eyes going wide. "Go." She says softly. As I tear out the front of the club past my startled bouncers I ponder on the fact that those were the first words we have ever spoken to each other in the club. Some how that something from my past brought it about isn't a surprise. The old T-bird awakens from its slumbers with a grumble that would do any old man proud. I kick the gas and leave the parking lot with a bark of the tires. My Angel. The red lights between the club and the hospital are meaningless hindrances to me tonight. Somewhere, someone must have been watching because other than one blown horn none protest their displeasure. The engine gives pops almost like it's panting as I jump out the door. As I cross to emergency I see a security guard come to attention. I have no time for his nonsense tonight I don't care what I look like. He's holding up a hand to stay me as I come through the door. "My daughter was brought in, I was told by a Sargent Wilks that she is in Intensive care. Some kind of an accident." My voice hits him with an authority me must only hear from his captain. I see his eyes go wide. The 'Dom' is so very close to the top tonight. I feel like I could make a god kneel just by telling him to. "I'm Todd Mercer." It takes him a half-second to check on a computer screen then he gives a nod. When I start forward he stops me again. I know my eyes must be lethal. "All metal object in the basket please." I drop my keys and phone into the red plastic. "It's still going to go off." I tell him as I step into the arch. It buzzes like a pissed off bee. I watch him take a wand and start to run it up from my feet. The buckles on my boots. The grommets on my leather pants, the piercings I put in tonight. He stops it by the middle of my back. The wand keeps warbling. "A bullet." I tell him to his quirked eyebrow. "The piece the doctor couldn't get out with out risking paralysis. Now can I go please?" He nods after a second. My key drop back into my pocket The elevator rumbles as it rises. A hollow sound. You would figure in a hospital the elevators wouldn't be haunted. Again a look from the nurses at the desk. I guess they have never seen a man who looks like me either. As I walk towards the desk my boots hitting the floor with a pop I see her hand go to where I'm sure a security button is. "Angel Mercer.... And Frances Moore?" My fingers contact the desktop with a tap from the heavy black polish on my nails. "And you are?" she asks me with a quaver to her voice. I have no time for this. "Todd mercer. Angel's father. Frances is my ex wife." I watch her check something. With a building sense of frustration. Her lack of urgency though finally calms me. If my daughter were dying she would be moving faster by now. "This way if you please." I look up at a large male... nurse, orderly, caregiver, or whatever he wishes to be called. As I walk and he keeps looking back at me to make sure I'm following I realize his title should be keeper. That seems to be his function. The room has that smell that the whole place extrudes, but under that I catch a hint of a soft perfume. As I cross to the bed I look down into the face of my daughter. She has her mom's face, thank the gods for that one. My features on a woman would be too harsh to be called beautiful. Her head is wrapped in a bandage around the crown and I see her arm is in a cast. Her leg as well. There is an overall bruising to her features that gives a hint to the force of the wreck that put her here. She looks. Okay. My nerves settle slowly. I look to my Keeper. "Her mother?" "She's across the hall." It feels like a betrayal to leave my daughter's side to go to the woman who took her from me but I do it non-the less. Out the corner of my eye I see a tall man in a long white coat coming down the hall. A police officer is next to him, keeping pace. I guess they think my keeper might not be enough. Frances looks...not okay. The tube in her mouth is taped to her cheek. Her head is also wrapped and her leg is also in a cast. But there are differences. Her leg is in traction. There are signs of extensive bruising around her neck. The right side? I turn to the doctor as he steps into the room. "She wasn't driving?" "No. Mr...Moore?" "Mercer." I correct him as my eyes go to the officer trying to look casual outside. His eyes meet mine and I give him a calm nod. I see him visible relax. "What happen?" "A car crossed the median and struck them on the passenger side. Your daughter appears to have hit her head on the window. She has a fractured arm and a broken ankle. There were also some minor lacerations. We think she has a concussion." "You think?" I ask an edge to my voice. I can't stand 'practitioners' of medicine. They need to come to the club and let me show them how to talk to people with a bit of confidence in tone. "No Mr. Mercer. We know, to the best of our ability. We will know for sure when she awakens. Now Your wife here..." "Ex wife." Was the difference in name not enough for this fool. I do hope he's a better doctor than he is a public speaker. "Frances and I divorced about fifteen years ago." "Yes. Well she was more severely injured. Her side of the car sustain a much greater impact force." I feel a slight twitch make my eye want to jump. "She has some internal injures from her impact with the seat-belt and the side passenger airbag. Her head hit the car door at least once. Her leg was crushed when the car crumpled. At the moment we have her in a medically induced coma while we see if the swelling in her brain continues to go down." I slowly nod. "Your daughter should recover fully we are really just waiting for her to wake on her own. If she is coherent we will probably transfer her to a private room and keep her for observation for a few days. Ms Moore will have a more extended stay but I have full hopes for her recovery as well. Now if you have any questions Mr. Mercer I will be here for about another two hours then a Dr. Graves will be on call. Simply ask at the nurses station." "Thank you Dr.... Clay" I read off his name tag The fool was too nervous by the way I look to even give me his name. When the doctor leaves I turn and look down on my ex wife. So many memories. I haven't seen her for a decade. She told me to never come around the last time I was in her presence. The names she called me then. I do note she never sent back the child support checks. No matter how she felt about me. Leaving the room I stop seeing the officer still standing there. "If I promise not to go down to maternity and bite the newborns...or their mothers will that help?" He chuckles after a second. "I know what I look like ...but right now I'm just a father with a daughter in the hospital." He gives me a nod then walks away talking into his mic clipped to his front pocket. My Angel. I look down on her then pull up the chair and sit down next to her. Her hand looks so small in mine when I take it. I remember when it looked even smaller. When her little fingers looked no bigger than grains of rice and they could hardly curl around my pinky finger. As the tears start to fall Syn gives me a pat on the shoulder and walks away leaving just Todd. A worried father holding his daughter's hand. ********** My motorcycle cranks with an evil purr. Behind me the lights of sanctuary go dark as I leave Gregory to close up. The air bites at my skin as I head towards the hospital. I can see the dawn coming not far off. The stars are beginning to fade ever so slightly. Someone not as familiar with the night as myself might not notice them dimming. My thoughts are on my husband as I cruse through the nearly empty street. On him and on the life I know he once had. The shattered pieces of a man I had to glue back together after that life fell apart. I know it's from that time that his life now was shaped but still...if not for the daughter I wish he never would have contact with that woman ever again. It's not jealousy that guides that feeling. He had women before her...I've even had a few of them since then. But her. She broke my husband so very badly. She took a man reeling from the loss of family, gave him one, and then took that one away as well. Her I could easily hate. But the daughter? I've seen her only in pictures. The cool air tells of the coming winter the days ahead when I will have to leave my beloved bike at home. I have often thought about moving south to escape the time of white. But I hate the heat even more. Pulling into the parking lot I see his old black car sitting like some chained beast among the little hybrids. Small cars that only the anorexic could ride in comfortable yet every one sing their praises. I park my bike between his car and a Prius. I figure it's the only way to keep the T-Bird from eating it. I can feel the guard's eyes on me as I walk towards the door. He sits up and watches with a not quite Lear. Those looks of lust that I can inspire in fools that couldn't handle me without a whip and a chair. If I though they knew how to handle a whip I might even give them a half a chance. As he runs the metal detector wand up me I watch, with a fell look to my eyes, his expression. One quirk, one grin at where it goes off and I might do something I will have to explain to Syn. Not regret, just have to explain. I shiver hearing the ghosts in the elevator moaning their loss to me. The nurses give me a strange look as well but I leave them unharmed, I'm feeling generous tonight and my mind is on my husband. I find him by his daughter's bedside. His head lying pillowed on one arm, on her bed, his hand holding hers. I can see that sleep took him just a short time ago. Looking up the hall I see a security guard walking towards me. He also has that look of boyish lust. It stops at the look in my eyes. Baethny steps to the side as I walk into the room. Unlike Syn she never really leaves me. I don't think I could stand it if she did. "Todd?" I give his shoulder a shake. My husband awakens quickly and looks from me to his daughter. "Go get you some coffee. I'll watch her till you get back." He nods. I steady him when he stands. I can see the weight of the world has settled back around him again. I pull him to me for a quick hug then send him after what he needs. Sitting down I look at the little Angel. I've heard her called that so many times by him over the years. She looks like her mother. It's no blessing; her mother was no ravaging beauty. Still there is a bit of my man around her cheekbones. Enough that I can't dislike the daughter as I have her mother. Her eyes open. Seeing this I wish I hadn't sent him to get coffee. He should be here. I don't know what to say. Her eyes go to me then open very wide. "Who are you and.... Is it Halloween?" A grin splits my face. Her father said almost the same thing to me so very long ago. "I'm Beth...I'm your wicked step mother." I say then bite the tip of my tongue to show I'm teasing. "How do you feel?" "With my fingers. Is my Mom alright?" the confusion of a person drugged is there but I can hear a humor that puts me in mind of the father. "I just got here but I can check for you. The last I hear about her she was in stable condition." Getting to my feet I start towards the door. "Wait. Step mother?" she asks blinking and looking at me with widening eyes. "No my dear. Wicked Step mother." I smile and step out the room. I see my husband returning down the hall. He has a cup of coffee in each hand. I take one from him reveling in the warmth it brings to my cold fingers. "She's awake.' I tell him simply. If I hadn't stepped to the side he would have knocked me down getting past. Baethny flares at that but I tell her to calm down. Crossing the hall I pull the chart from the door and look over it. I don't look at her, I'm afraid if I did my hatred of her would get the better of me. I have little pity for her injuries. She caused at least this much damage to my husband. The only difference his scars don't show. I cross back to Angel's room. "She is still stable." I say. "What does that mean? Is she going to be boarding horses? What's wrong with her?" "Easy Angel." He tells her his voice a soothing whisper. The one he often comforts me with when the pleasure of being whipped is long past and only the pain remains. "Damn easy! Where is the doctor and why are you here?" I see she tries to pull her hand from his but doesn't have the strength. I turn my head when a man in a coat and a tall orderly walk into the doorway. "Visiting hours don't begin till seven. And even then it's immediate family. Now I will have to ask you to leave as your disturbing my patient." I read the name tag on his coat. "Dr. Graves? The mother is unable to make decisions and she has no stepfather. By what consent to you plan to do anything if not... her father's?" I gesture to my husband. Looking to Todd I swallow for a half second when I see Syn behind his eyes looking back at me. A very dark and angry Syn at that. Slowly I see Todd come to the forefront again. "Doctor she has just awoke and is confused form the drugs you have given her. I was about to tell her about her mother when you arrived, if you wish stay. You can clarify anything I miss. ********** It feels strange to ride to the club from my day job knowing Syn wont be there. But then it felt the same for the last two nights. The thousands of question that I've had to answer from people, the overwhelming concern from people we know only through... play. It warms a part of my heart I thought long dead. Hope is just as strange to me at times. I see the black T-bird in the lot with the door just opening as I pull around the corner. I bring my Ninja to a stop just in front of my husband. From the look on his face I guess wrong. "Your ex awoke at last?" I ask lifting my visor. He shakes his head. "What are you doing here then?" I ask shutting down the bike. Todd not Syn takes a deep breath. "She told me she doesn't want me to come back. Angel. She told the doctor to call me when he needed to get consent but that she didn't want to see me." My husband...a man like any other. He can be a tower of strength unfazed by things that tear the world apart around us and yet. He can break so very easily. I can even now see the little spider web like cracks in the glass that is his heart. House of Syn Ch. 03 Like mother like daughter? Baethny looks out through my eyes as the bike roars to live under me. "She didn't mention me though did she?" He gives a shake of his head. The dark bike a mixture of silver and black leaves a round smoking circle of rubber next to Todd as I hold the front break and throttle up. "Beth?" he asks confused. "No!" is the answer. I hold the front tire down out of pure strength as I bark a wheel leaving the parking lot of my home, my Sanctuary. My dark metal lover is purring to me all the way to the hospital but I ignore his whispers of pleasure. The air has me cool by the time I get there. The cold of a sharp blade. The cold of the grave maybe. Both chills hang close as I go past the security guard. He goes to stand in my way. I look at him with a sweet smile. "I like handcuffs. Do you like using them off work as well?" He stops about to wave the wand across me and just blinks. "I find that rope works better. The metal cuts the skin where as rope leaves the hot little burns. They ache so very nicely. Do you like to be tied up? I love to be tied up." My breathing is a pant. "Do you enjoy tying someone down to a bed?" "Yea." He says in a soft whisper. The little black card appears in my hand like a magic trick. It's the only one I know. "I don't have time to play find the metal with you. Come by the club. I might let you hunt to your hearts content. I'm not carrying anything more lethal than myself." I slowly slide the edge of my skirt up to show the lack of panties under it. "Where would I keep it?" I try not to slip in the drool as I walk past. The elevators give me their banshee's wail as I ride up. I like to think that they are calling out a warning to the other ghost in the building. The Daughter of Syn is here! And I'm no Angel. The nurse's station is empty, but I do not need their help. Todd told me the number of the new room they moved her to. I do not need their help. Not here. Not this place. Room 275, my mother. Room 290. Father and brother shot in a drive by. Told they would recover...neither did. Room 295.... my wrists ache at old memories. I do not need their help... not here. Room 245 opposite side of the hall. Good, bad memories on the other. The door opens under my hand, my ring leaving a faint scratch across the wood. I look at it then at the blade on my finger. When did I put that on? And Why? I pull the ring off and put it into my purse as I step inside. "What are you doing here?" Her voice has a lot more strength now. Good I hate the invalid; they are no fun at all. "What are you doing here? She asks again when I ignore the question and move to the chair. I pull it up next to the bed a bit and sit down. She sits back a bit when I look up. "Visiting." I say softly. It takes her a moment to find her voice again. "I told the doctor I didn't want to see you." "Did you? Or did you tell him you didn't want to see your father? I'm not your father little girl or were you hit in the head harder than I think?" "Well I meant my step mother as well." "Child." The word carries a lot for something so simple. "I told you, I'm your wicked step mother. If you intend to break my husbands heart you better learn to listen to what people say ...just a bit better." My words carry a cold tone that is icy even to myself. "I want..." "I really don't care." I tell her without pause before she can even get the rest out. "Reality time little infant. Your mother is up in the intensive care ward with her brain trying to swell out of her head. The parts that make her the woman you know may be damaged beyond all recovery. You have no other family that cares even a wisp for you." I look around the room at the lack of flowers and cards. "Not a lot of visitors." She sits back and swallows. "Let me guess ...home schooled?" I smile at the blink. "I knew without even asking of course. You see I know your mother very well." "You don't know my Mother at all!" the words carry some heat to them. "Of course I do. Do you know how they judge how powerful a tornado was? By how much it damages things. They can tell you everything there was to know about it by how much it tore things apart." "What has that to do with anything?" she asks me her snide voice coming back. "I know your mother the same way. By how much she tore your father apart. She damaged him in so many ways ... it took years of work to get him repaired. Then she damaged him again. Oh I know her well indeed, little child." "I'm not a child! I'm seventeen!" "Oh but you are a child. In the eyes of the world you are. In the eyes of the law and the courts you are. Your mother could pass at anytime." I see the terror spring to her eyes. Beth would comfort her but Baethny drives on, hammering deeper. "When she does there will be two options, and the court will decide. You will come to live with us. Or you will spend the last year before you become an adult in the foster care system. I don't think you would like it there very much. They don't really care about someone your age. You see by your age they figure there nothing they can do to teach you a thing so why bother trying. They will house you and feed you and dump you out in a year their money paid for a job ...well done." "You don' know anything!" I slowly smile. "Your mother is a controlling bitch. She always has been. She tried to control your father and when she found out she couldn't she took you and left him. Then she went to the courts and had them declare my husband an unfit father for so young a girl. They denied him custody rights to even see you. She told him to his face that she was going to change your last name and never let him know where you where growing up. She wanted total control over you as well. Well he turn control over but saw to it under court order that she couldn't change your name. I bet it must goad her every time she had to write it down. I would make another bet as well." I lean forward a bit. "Your boyfriends. Does she think any are good enough? If she does I bet you she has been pressuring you to marry him as quickly as you can. Yes?" I see her eyes shift. She might as well be screaming it. "She want's the name Mercer out of her life so badly she would even give you up. You see in your father she met the one thing she couldn't stand. A man that would tell her no. One that would do what he wanted when it was needed. He had a thing to do and she forbid him to do it. All she did was awaken the demon that told her no." I watch Angel sit back on her bed her thoughts must be going a mile a second behind those beautiful eyes. Those eyes. They come to rest on me after a second. Taking in the way I look. The black lace the dark kola around my eyes the red in my black hair. "What's with the way you and him dress?" she asks after a minute of studying me. I smile sweetly and sit back. My rings make pleasant sounds across the fake leather on the armrest of the chair. Real leather sounds so much better. "Surely you know what a Goth is my dear." "Aren't the two of you a bit old to be playing dress up?" "I could stand bare to the world and be a Goth. The clothes are simply the reflection of the inside." I steeple my fingers a little over my belt. "Then your insides must be pretty fucked up." She says with that snide tone coming back. I slowly smile and lean back in. "You have no idea. Would you care to learn?" She looks at my face for a second then slowly shakes her head. "Smart as well as beautiful. A good combination. If you can hang on to that it will help you in life." She flinches when I lay my hand on he rail around her bed. The black nails click on the plastic. "Now lets talk about your father. He loves you." She snorts. So very unladylike like a gesture. I can see training is in order. "We have a night club, it takes a lot to run it well yet he has been here by your side since he found out you were hurt. Here till you ordered him away." I curl my hand around the rail the tendons pop the fine lines that cover my right hand and arm come into better definition. The black swirls of tattooing so faint stand out on the whitening skin. "Why did you do that?" She looks away from my face and down at her coverlet. Her fingers start to play with a lose thread. "I didn't want him here." "Why not?" I ask after a second. "Because I didn't!" she answers with some heat. "That's' a child's answer. If you are not one as you claim find a better." I sit back giving her time to reflect on her own thoughts. "He... doesn't know me. He's like some weird strange guy that wants to be around me." "Weird and strange don't even begin to do him justice my dear. Try fierce, loving, loyal, and compassionate to a fault. Try a man with a sense of family protectiveness that made him give up everything to see one he loves cared for." "What are you talking about." I see it then. She doesn't know. I begin to cuss her mother in the depths of my heart with every curse I know. "You don't know about your grandmother do you?" she shakes her head. "Or your uncle?" I take a deep breath. "You have a living breathing grandmother. One who asks about you every time I talk to her even though she knows I knew nothing about you. She would ask with the hope that I might have heard even a little about how you were doing." I watch her hand go to her mouth. "Why didn't she come see me? The court order couldn't keep her from doing that it's only against my father." I swallow. I should not be the one telling her this. But then I wonder who could. Todd can't rally speak of it without tears. "She lives at Briarthorn Mental Hospital. She helps with the most deranged patients. Helps them find some peace with their madness." "She's a Doctor?" "No my dear she is a patient." "My grandmother is insane?" she asks after a second. "Your Father's mother is ...damaged. She was damaged and it broke something within her. She has fits. She can hurt herself and others when she has them." Angel sits quiet for a second. "What kind of fits?" I sigh. My eyes come to rest on he pulled tread. Tattered and torn from the weave a ragged individual now standing tall but not part of the pattern any longer. "Ever seen someone that you though was someone else? You may have had to even cross the street and get almost into their face before you know that the person wasn't someone you know. For her those can be deadly...both to herself and others. When she was ...damaged... a face burned its way into her brain. Now when ever she see that face it triggers an attack. She nearly killed a man simple because of mistaken identity." "What face?" "Your uncles. And your fathers since they have a resemblance." "She can't see my father's face without going nuts?" I swallow past a bit of anger. "I don't care for that word. Try living in a psyche ward for a few weeks you will feel the same way I'm sure. But yes. She can't see your father's face without having her heart become filled with terror." "Why?" "Because he looks like your uncle. The resemblance is close. They have different colored hair now, my husband has a few bones in different places now. But it's close." "I don't understood. Why does the fact that my father looks like my uncle cause her to go Nu...have a fit?" Angel really shouldn't narrow her eyes like that. It will cause wrinkles when she is older. "Because your uncle raped her and then tried to murder her, my dear." Maybe I should go find a doctor to put her jaw back shut. It looks like it will never close on it's own. "He then nearly killed your father. Beat him in the head with a trophy. A baseball trophy of all things." "When did this happen?" she asks after a second. "Right before you were conceived as I understand it. Your uncle was caught and went to prison. Your father spent a year in and out of hospitals having to learn to do things over again. Little things...like walking, talking. You know common stuff. Then he met your mother." I give my head a little tilt. "By then your grandmother was already having trouble. She attacked a man when she got some terrible news. He kind of looked like your father and uncle." "What was the news?" Angel asks when I grow quiet. "That you uncle was going to be release on a technicality. Some little slip in the paper work was going to set him free. This is where your mother comes in. You see when you father learned about this he wanted to go confront his brother. Your mother forbids it. She also forbids him to go anywhere near his own mother." "Why?" I'm asked after a second. "For two years your mother had been the only person in your father's life. His mother couldn't bear to see him. He could talk to her on the phone but not go see her without her becoming frightened. Terrified. Then came that news and she decide that anyone that kind of looked like your father must be your uncle coming to rape her again. Coming to finish trying to kill her." I take a long slow breath to settle my nerves. Your father disobeyed here. He went to the prison; he confronted your uncle. Your uncle bragged about what he was going to do, bragged about what he was capable of when he felt like making some one beg." Your father screamed at him... told him that if he came near their mother he would kill him." My hands go t the coverlet myself. I notice my ring sparkles as it slices a line across the coverlet. I don't remember putting it back on. "They hauled your father away from the prison in a police car. He wasn't charged but they kept him till it was almost to late. Till your uncle was almost released. It's lucky they didn't let him go." "Lucky? How, why?" she asks. My finger starts to dig into the mattress padding. I make myself stop and take off the ring. My eyes must be cold when I look up she flinches back. I hear Beth asking me to calm down. "If they had I wouldn't have met him. You see I was being brought in when they were releasing him. I saw him and I lost it far worse than your grandmother did I'm afraid. I was handcuffed and I still managed to get to him. I was bond and I still managed to put him on the ground. It took three grown men to pull me off him!" "Why?" "Because he looked like your uncle. My rapist." The room goes infinitely quiet. "My...My uncle raped you?" She just looks at me "And you married the man that looks like him?" "I told you that you had no idea." I sit back slowly. "I testified against you uncle and with your father's testimony about what he had bragged about the bodies began to turn up. Your uncle was convicted of multiple murder and rape. He's sitting on death row. Been there for nearly fifteen years now. I would think he's got to be getting due any day now. I wait for the call to go witness that. I wait for it with a hunger." She looks at me and I since unease about her. Not quite fear of me more wariness. "Why did I never hear about any of this?" she ask me after a few minutes. "Control. You mother used all of this to get control over your life. Your father defied her when he went to confront his brother. When he testified at my side. When he went and told his mother threw a two-way mirror so she couldn't see him that his brother was going away for life. Because of that she filed for divorce. That shattered your father. Then when the lawyer she hired got involved it got worse. He filed for full custody, no visitation. He used all that I have just told you to get your father out of your life. Suddenly your father wasn't a caring man he was the son of a lunatic. On that had violent outburst. Whose brother was a mass murdering rapist on death row? By then your father and I were together ...friends only... but my past came into play showing the kind of people your father associated with." "Your past?" I twitch my finger at her. "You've learned enough for one day my dear. That is a tale infinitely darker. The divorce was finalized; your father was a broken man owing a ton of child support every month for a daughter he couldn't see. His only bit of hope to cling to was tat she would carry his name. That maybe one day she would use that name to come find her father... that loved her. Loved her more than life." I all but snarl. "And you told him you don't want to see him." I look away from her face when the doctor comes into the room. He looks at me and is about to say something when he sees my eyes. They stare cold and hard into his. "Ah...Ah Angel... Um... your mother is awake. She's asking for you." He looks away from me and focuses on her. A mistake prey should never make around a predator. "I want to see my father." Her words are firm. They carry the sound of command well. I know where she gets it from. Beth starts to cry. The Daughter in Syn just smiles.