2 comments/ 39080 views/ 6 favorites Darkest Before Dawn By: lordchilworth It's raining hard outside, but it's the same as every night here in the tropics... in the wet season, it will rain torrentially for two solid hours after seven in the evening, and in the dry season, it's more intermittent and for a shorter duration. After a while I don't even notice the racket that it makes on the steeply-sloped palm roof of the circular rush-walled house they've given me. I'm sitting in my hammock writing my diary by the flickering light from a bare low-wattage bulb that sways drunkenly in the draught that comes in under the eaves. The solar generator will only allow fifteen minutes of transmission each evening if I want enough power left for the light to last until I go to sleep. Anthropology, linguistics and psychology qualifications have got me to where I am today... a tiny salary (barely more than pocket money, really) and a daily satellite transmission my only real contact with the university which had sent me to study a newly discovered tribe in the West African country of Benin. There weren't many in my field that had a handle on either of the two local languages of the Fon and Bariba tribes, and fewer still with any knowledge of the phallocrypt traditions which had up to now only been observed amongst the high mountain tribes of the Grand Baliem Valley and Telefomin regions of New Guinea. I guess you could say that the job was made for me. Phallocrypt is the scientific name for penis sheaths. Worn mostly by tribes who have shunned clothing of any sort as genital protection and adornment, and up to now lived at least a couple of thousand miles away. Two years ago a keen student from the African Anthropology Association met a representative of the tribe at a market twenty miles northwest of here. A digital camera and recorder meant that he was able to establish the unique nature of his first contact. A language of clicks and whispers was recorded but not understood by any of the local traders who informed the scientist that the man or another of his tribe came to the town up from the densely forested valleys every few months to trade butterflies and skins for a sack of salt. A year later and here I am, Dr. Dawn Massey, three months in and barely started; I'm the only outsider ever to visit this small village of seventy souls and am totally aware that observations are being made in both directions. Am I damaging the place or making a negative social impact by being here? Would bringing a larger team in do either? My reports must firstly consider these. I have got a handle on almost a hundred of the complex gesture/sound/posture combinations that these folks use as language. The men are outnumbered by the women, due as far as I can tell to a dangerous ritual that guides them into manhood from their teens. The men hunt for food: animals, birds and fruit. They also build and repair the two large huts which the entire village live in. The women and old folks of both sexes bring up the young and care for the field of a type of sago palm which seems to be their one road into any kind of organised agriculture. They have no domesticated animals, not even dogs and though they allow tree pythons to inhabit the rafters of their homes, it seems to me that the two species tolerate each other rather than anything else. The snakes eat any rats which might try to steal from their hosts and stop any birds from making their nests in the fibrous roofs. These people have no name for themselves, and seem to recognise all humans to be from the same tribe. As of today my thinking is that they could well have been here, living in isolation, for hundreds or even thousands of years. The nearest village was a three day long, twenty mile slog through jungle that seemed to grow back almost as fast as you could hack a path through it. That was to the northwest; further south it was closer to forty miles to the next road and nearer fifty to the nearest town. At first it felt odd to me, everybody was naked whilst they were in the village and though I thought I might try to join in, I found that I was constantly attracting an unfair number of insects which, though they didn't bite, seemed to be after the salt in my sweat and as such were bloody annoying. Clothed, they didn't seem as much trouble, and I got used to it. There was always the cool running stream if I needed it. The men spent their leisure time painting designs of great complexity on each other's faces, giving each other elaborate hairdo's and drinking a milky coloured beer made from a ground nut and the small red bananas which seemed to grow in profusion in the immediate surrounds of the village. The tribe told me that they did not plant these bananas, which were one of the main reasons for the sighting of their village. The men's penis sheaths were made from the hollowed out gourds of a type of nut tree that grew with its roots in the stream along the high banks of which the two huge huts stood. It was their only bodily adornment and was worn anytime they left the cleared ground of the village. The women used half of the rounded end of the same kind of gourd, fastened around their waist, to protect their genitals anytime they found recourse to enter the jungle. I hadn't been invited to live in their huts, but wasn't restricted in my use of them for everything except sleeping. For the first month they seemed suspicious of me, staring in horror at my bright red pubic hair whenever I took to the stream to bathe or wash. One of the women, using hastily contrived hand signs, offered to shave me ... as if I maybe didn't know how to shave. The next day as I undressed by the stream a ripple of murmurs as they all stared at the bright flash of almost blue white flesh where my pubes had been. I hadn't noticed any extra chafing against my clothes since I'd shaved myself in the cool light of dawn at the stream edge. Indeed the sweat seemed to dry off more quickly and the new feeling was surprisingly pleasant. The tribe seemed to be in fairly good health, with all having good skin and strong teeth. They have a thing about bodily hair, with it only being tolerated on heads. From a young age everybody spent time sitting together in the stream grooming and shaving each other using bamboo combs and flint razors. It seemed to me that they must at some time have excavated the large pool in which they all sat to carry out this social event. It had been lined with white pebbles, so that by mid morning the water was warm. They seemed to have no concept of any smaller social group than the entire tribe, with little recognition of individual fatherhood, and babies were nursed by whoever was closest when they squalled to be fed. The larger of the two long huts was where all of the children and a few of the oldest adults slept, although it seemed to me that there was no restriction as to who could sleep in that one ... just what they could and couldn't do whilst they were there. The women had access to a natural plant contraceptive, and on the whole didn't give birth until their late twenties; some had more than one child, but rarely did anyone seem to have more than three. I was learning that it was considered to be too hard on a woman's body long term to exceed such a number. The most interesting aspects of the culture that I was studying was its preoccupation with sex. As soon as a child began to masturbate they were allowed access to the smaller, adult's hut during sleep time, apparently to demystify the processes of their bodies. There they could ask such questions as they might wish about whatever they observed. Mostly they seemed to just sleep and occasionally watch the goings on around them; everything was there to be openly discussed. From my daily talks with the women and children I discovered that heterosexuality was a completely unknown concept to them. Each of them was unlimited in their choice of partner - indeed sex seemed to be used as an intrinsic part of almost all adult social interaction. It was what people did to become relaxed enough to make rational decisions, it seemed to be an amazingly strong bond between every one of the adults. Men took men into the adult hut, women took women, and groups went in together. Old ladies fucked young men and partners seemed to change a half a dozen times a day. There is so much to report that I spend hours writing daily records on a dozen different aspects of this culture; I'm getting so much feedback from the university from what seems every department at the place. Botanists, zoologists, psychologists, sexologists - even climatologists; I was barely getting enough sleep because of the workload when the university dropped the bombshell that our government had fallen out with the government of Benin and that I was 'temporarily' going to have to act as an unsupported field operative... until everybody kissed and made up. I wasn't that worried until I realised that I would receive no further monthly parachute drops of supplies to the clearing on the other side of the stream. But it's okay because if I ration myself a little there is still enough to last another three months... so long as I'm careful. Now that you've got the background, let's get on with the story. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- I was just about to switch off the light and get under the mosquito net that hung down over my hammock when he arrived. His body glistened in the flickering light; for a few seconds he said nothing... that only just gave me time to get my heartbeat back to survivable. Who wouldn't be shocked? With his hairdo a wild array of ochre red spirals surrounding a face covered in fine contour lines of white and red; his gesture was left arm elbow out, forearm waving slowly left to right, hand open - full show of teeth with wide eyes and a soft cluck. Asking nicely ...to follow... what's the soft cluck? I reach for my clothes but he touches my arm and beckons again, this time with raised eyebrows to indicate urgency. Naked I walk into the night; outside, carrying a flaming torch is one of the women. I fold my hands in greeting and bob my head in friendship to Fayeye, she takes my hand and we follow the tall young man to the adult hut. There is a low fire burning in the central pit and four torches in braziers along each wall. The hut is full and as I look around, only one adult female and one male is missing. I hoped that I hadn't done anything wrong but the atmosphere wasn't unfriendly... it was hard to work out what the vibe in the room was but it definitely wasn't animosity. As my eyes become accustomed to the light levels I realise that our arrival seems to have interrupted some kind of orgy; everybody was involved in some kind of sexual congress. Nothing frantic, women were sitting in men's laps or stroking each others genitals, there were men gently sucking other men's dicks or lapping at breasts. The only universal was that no matter what they were doing it didn't stop them from staring at me. Fayeye takes me to the centre at one side of the long hut and once I am seated passes me a gourd with beer in it. I take a small sip of the oversweet beer that they all seemed to be drinking. As soon as I lower the gourd she starts to question me in a series of gestures. At first I don't understand as she combines gestures in ways that I haven't seen before. Suddenly I get it... she's worried that I have been here for more than three moons without having come to my bleeding cycle - she is worried that I am unwell . I grab a bundle of the contraceptive plant which are hanging from the eaves immediately above my head and explain that I have something similar that also stops my menstrual cycle and that works for two years at a time. This seems to cheer her a lot, and seems to be the cause of some considerable amount of jollity amongst those gathered. Again, at first I don't understand the gestures that some of the men make and again, it comes to me in a flash... she came prepared to fuck. One by one I realise that they are all staring at me ... expecting an answer. I don't want to appear rude but don't know how I should formulate any kind of cohesive answer... so I just smile and nod. For a second there is no response and then with a cheer they are untangling from each other and moving towards me, dozens of hands touching and caressing me. I am pulled gently to my feet and manoeuvred towards the raised area at the far end of the hut. Other hands hold my calves and thighs and I am lifted onto the mat-covered surface. Fayeye is the first to kiss me, pressing her breasts into mine. I've not been kissed by a woman since the last time my mum did it... and that wasn't this kind of kiss. Fayeye's kiss makes a hundred statements about want and lust, her tongue pushes against first my lips and then my closed teeth, it forces its way into my mouth where it stabs hard and rapidly against mine before it envelopes it, tugging and tangling. She breaks away and as she pulls back I see that her nipples are erect against the firmness of her young tits and almost jump as I realise that my nipples have hardened in response and that there were stirrings in my groin. I am suddenly aware that there are bodies all around us. Men and women all touching me and each other. Someone touches my cheek from behind and as I turn there is a penis there, erect and six inches in size, shining and so dark as to appear purple in the light of the torches, its owner presses it down so that it is pointing at my mouth... it's a universal gesture and I answer by dropping my lower jaw; he just leans forward and it is in my mouth and on my tongue, Fayeye's taste mixes with the salty sweetness of his pre-come, and I try to wrap my tongue around it but it's too big so I push it against my top teeth and rub my tongue up and down the length of it. He bends his knees further until his head hits the back of my mouth, then he moves round until he can line himself up with the angle of my throat before lowering himself down . I switch to breathing through my nose as he starts to fuck my mouth slowly pulling away before pushing himself back into my throat. My throat relaxes and becomes a gripping fuck tube for him; as it does his eyes flash down at me and he stops moving. For three seconds nothing happens and then his cock jerks sideways against my throat... I grip it with both sets of teeth so that he doesn't pull out, and I feel it throb along its length once, twice... at the third pulse he starts to come... five times I feel it hit the back of my throat as it spasms, slowly he withdraws against my dragging teeth and stands up. As he does he whoops and yodels. In a whirl, I look down and there are two people sucking my nipples - an old woman of maybe fifty and a young girl barely out of her teens. There is a man thrusting his penis in and out of the old lady as she bends to suckle and nibble at my tit. Their attention pushes me onto my back and they follow me down still sucking and chewing. From this new angle I can see that there is another man behind the first who is butt fucking the first each time he pulled back from the old lady. Between the two at my tits appears the head and shoulders of the man who'd collected me from my hut. It was his amazing dick that gave my pussy the first pounding it had had in months. I'd been so tired from all of my work that I hadn't even bothered to wank for an age. He was huge; someone else held my labia apart and helped guide his monster into me, he didn't slam in but went at it in the 'inch in, inch out two inches in two inches out method'; for an age he continued to feed a little more and then a little more into my cunt... nothing had ever felt so completely filling to me... nothing! He lifted my legs and I could feel his hairless balls slap against my hairless arse. Then he was going faster and faster and everything starts to catch up with me and I throw my head back, a growl at my throat; I close my eyes as my first orgasm in ages arrives with the force of a freight train, I howl and screw up my face as his thrusts just keep getting faster. As I turn my head to one side I realise that the guy who's got his dick up the other mans arse is about to come , he pulls back and moves round to my face; his cock is not minging but slightly musty - more sweaty than nasty. In two thrusts he is coming, this time it's not down my throat but in my mouth and I can taste his spunk much more than the first guys'. I let him finish coming, holding it in my mouth, before I swallow. Before he can withdraw, I hold his softening cock and lick the last of his come from the ebony of his helmet. The taste is a caviar of heaven, salty and rich. He pulls back and my head drops onto the matting. I close my eyes as I realise that I was about to come again. I turn my head to the side where the young woman was still sucking my boob. I caught her eye and in an instant she had let go of my nipple and was lowering her pussy towards my face... as I came my shout was muffled against her flesh. I reached my tongue out to her cunt only to see it pass by to open its lips and sit on my nose, rubbing back and forth while she mashes the pink centre of her arse into my mouth. My tongue hits its centre which twitches before settling back onto the hard end, pushing it past the circle of her sphincter. I can't get enough air through my nose, so gasp through my mouth around the flesh of her slender buttocks. The man in my pussy suddenly speeds up to a quite staggering speed before stopping dead, buried to the hilt inside me as he pumps what felt like eight or ten times deep inside me. He too yowled and shrieked after he had pulled out. My tongue was still stiff and was being used by the young woman to penetrate her arse, up and down until she fell away unable to hold herself up in the throes of her orgasm. She lay face down and twitching just above my head, her arse sticking up and her come dribbling from her pussy. All around me there were people coming, in a chorus of grunts and squeals. I saw a woman pull her cunt from the lapping it was getting and thrust her hips upwards as she too started to expel her come from her.. I had never seen a woman ejaculate before and was almost aghast as it gushed from her in five spurts, each splatter more copious than any cock I have ever witnessed. A drop of it fell onto my forearm and I immediately raised it to my mouth to taste... another elixir of sweet and sour. The old lady suddenly drags her teeth at my nipple before letting go and falling forward over my body onto her forehead. Her hands reach back behind her to pull apart the sagging roundels of her fat butt. The man who'd been fucking her pulls out of her pussy and with two quick pulls aims his come at the exposed bud of her arse. She falls further across me until I'm supporting her weight; I see her fingers gather up his spunk and rub it first around and then with each added spurt up inside her crinkled arse. She grunts and squeals as her ramming fingers bring her to another climax. In the aftermath of this mass coming, fresh milky beer was passed around. For the first time since my arrival I am being treated as a member of the village and as I bask in the afterglow of my long overdue sexual release, I am happy and proud. I wanted more, a lot more, but realised that everybody else was starting to sit up and an almost alien air of business began to take over. Now that they felt that everybody was of a suitable temperament, it was time to discuss the politics of running a small community. A taboo on any further recreational sexual activity until all business at hand was completed. Not a place for anybody of a filibustering nature. I had more to learn, and more to tell. To be continued... My thanks and gushing praise as ever for my editor Hotti... Darkest Before Dawn The Native Dawn Series Book 2 Darkest Before Dawn Darkest Before Dawn "And I'm dinner," Nikki said, completing his thought. Nice. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at full attention in response to the dread spreading down her spine. Wonderful. How long could Patrick hold off? Exactly how long did she have left to live? She shuffled in her corner and forced her eyes to focus on the battered laces of her sneakers. She couldn't bear to look at the man that would kill her...sooner or later. "You're safe, from me, at least. For the moment, I'm in control." He couldn't look at Nikki. Couldn't stand the fear in her eyes. Would it help if he assured her that when the time came, she'd feel no pain. She'd simply die? He doubted it. "What happens if you aren't in control?" Nikki's chin trembled in fear. Tears stung her eyes. She wasn't ready to die. Not like this. She was supposed to be having the time of her life in the big city. She'd watched every episode of Sex in the City at least three times. Her life was supposed to be one long string of whimsical adventures, just like Carrie's, Samantha's, and Amanda's. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to get kidnapped. Vampires weren't supposed to exist. Death was one adventure she could do without. Patrick couldn't answer her question. He knew he was slowly loosing the battle with his hunger; it was just a matter of time. Taking a deep breath, he told a lie. Perhaps the biggest lie of all. "I won't." Nikki exhaled the breath she held. She wanted to believe Patrick. She really did. But, she could see the burning of hunger in his eyes. She knew that she was on borrowed time, they both were. "I hope you're right." Settling into her corner on the opposite side of the room, she forced her eyes to meet his. "Patrick, why is this happening? Why you? Why me?" He could give her a hundred reasons why. Fill hours with stories of his brothers and their battles with the Rogues. But, in the end, it wouldn't matter. He'd still be hungry. He'd still kill her, when the last of his hold on his control slipped through his grip. And she'd still die. The lies came easier now. "Our lucky day, I guess." Darkest Before Dawn Janine rested her head on the cool glass of the windowpane. The contrast between the coolness of the glass and the warmth of Alex's fingers around her hand sent goose pimples racing along her skin. She wanted to tell Alex everything. Pour out her heart. But, if she admitted the truth and depth of her feelings, that'd make them real. As long as she kept them bottled up inside. They weren't real. She could deny them. Stuff them back into an abandoned corner of her mind and forget them. Go back to living the life she'd led before. Fancy free, frivolous, and empty, so numbingly empty. If Patrick didn't come back, she'd need every defense she could call on just to pick up the pieces and fake living again. Alex shifted and tried to find a comfortable spot on the floor. She kept hold of Janine's hand. Terrified if she let go, Janine would slip back into her stupor and start staring out the window again. "I'm not going anywhere. Whatever it is you're going through. We're in it together." Janine looked down at the top of Alex's head. She'd envied her best friend plenty of times. The way that Alex was so confident that she didn't need to hide behind layers of makeup and designer labels to feel good about herself. The way Alex's life was so full. Brimming over the top with people who loved her. And Lucien. They'd finally found one another and she was so complete. Next to her, Janine felt like an empty shell. Superficial. Shallow. And empty. So empty. Alex was so sure of every step while Janine bumbled her way through life. Janine had thought she was special. That she was the one who would bring Alex kicking and screaming, to follow in her footsteps. She was the impostor, the one that couldn't face herself. She was the one that needed a major makeover both inside and outside. Not Alex. Janine couldn't stomach herself. She couldn't deal with her life. Patrick was an enigma. At first, she'd thought he was just a distraction wrapped up in a pretty wrapper of flesh. She didn't realize. Maybe, hadn't wanted to delve into the empty cavern of her heart to explore just how much he'd meant to her. She had feelings for him. Ones she hadn't given much thought to. After all, she had her job, shopping, and men, so many men to fill the void. She hadn't had to pay attention to her heart. Until now, now that he was gone and might not come back, ever. She should have taken the time. Should have made the time for them before it was too late. Alex tugged on Janine's hand, surprised when she didn't resist and melted onto the floor in a pile of worn terry cloth next to her. Janine's shoulders quaked with the force of her tears. They spilled in a waterfall down her cheeks onto the lapels of the robe. Crying was something. Progress. Janine had sat in that windowsill all day without the faintest hint of an expression. Tears, as sorrowful and mournful as they were, were an improvement. Alex wrapped her arms around her best friend's shoulders and crushed them in a hard embrace. Janine didn't speak. But, she didn't need to. Her tears said it all. "We'll get him back." Darkest Before Dawn The brakes of the ancient bus squealed to a halt and the door hissed open. She took Robert's hand, allowing him to help her weary body up. It was late and as much as she hated to admit it. There wasn't much more she could do tonight. John Mark dejectedly kicked an empty beer bottle. The glass careened into a far wall and shattered into bits in a shower of tinkling sounds falling against concrete. He walked the deserted sidewalk back to the apartment. Patience was not one of his virtues and it had been hours since the last sighting-the only sighting. He worried that he and his brothers would be too late to save Patrick. The city had so many little nooks and crannies. Searching them all would be impossible. John Mark stopped dead in his tracks, slipping tightly along the side of a towering brick building. The big Kahuna of vampires was standing across the street, partially hidden by the shadows, intently watching the apartment building. His gaze fixed on Danielle and Robert as they wearily made their way inside. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. Apparently, the rogue was a better tracker than he was. Since the rogue had managed to track Robert and Danielle back to Alex's place. John Mark brought the mic close to his mouth. "Raven across the street. The fucking rogue is on top of us. Our position is compromised!" he whispered urgently into the mouthpiece. "Copy." Robert rushed, practically dragging Danielle into the elevator and hurriedly pressed the button for their floor. "We were followed," he said, sliding a dagger from its sheath. He'd fight to the death before he let one of those son of a bitches taste one drop of his blood. Even though the elevator wasn't heated and the night was cool. Beads of nervous sweat broke out on his brow and across his upper lip. Danielle gasped. She stared up at her husband. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. They hadn't gone straight home. They'd ridden bus after bus for hours before deciding to call it quits for the night. "How? We were so careful. We changed buses three times on our way back. How did he follow us?" Fumbling at her belt line, she released a dagger of her own. Ready to defend. Ready to die, if need be. John Mark watched as the vampire stared on intently. He made no move, no sign of aggression. He was standing there on the sidewalk bathed in shadows, simply watching. John Mark knew better than to engage this particular vampire. He was an ancient and very dangerous. The most damage John Mark could hope to inflict was to piss him off and maybe buy Robert and Danielle enough time to escape. This was the one they were looking for. There was no mistaking the red ponytail gathered at the back of his neck to trail down his narrow shoulders or the waves of power that radiated off of him. John Mark sucked in a breath as the vampire scanned along the storefronts and various buildings that lined the street. Before he could release the breath, the vampire was gone. Poof. Vanished. John Mark cautiously made his way across the street, hopeful for a trail. But, the stink of the city masked the vampire's scent. He circled the building and combed the lobby before heading up on the elevator. The perimeter was secured, even if their position had been compromised. At first light, they would move to a different location and set up shop. John Mark rapped on the door of the apartment. Greeted by a sharp lethal looking dagger wielded by a nervous Robert. "Hey its just me. I've checked it out. Our perimeter is secure, at least for now." He lowered his hands down to his sides as Robert stepped back to let him in. "You guys try to get some rest. I'll keep watch and pack our stuff. In the morning we haul ass to a different location." Nervously, Robert sheathed the dagger into the leather belt at his waist. Danielle and he, they'd been so careful, maybe too careful. Paying too much attention to the bigger picture to notice the vampire trailing them. Setting up shop had taken valuable time from the mission. Having to move, breaking down and resetting the equipment would waste time nobody had. Patrick was out there. And everyday that passed decreased the odds that he was coming home in one piece. John Mark frowned and began breaking apart equipment, hastily stuffing it into totes. Not the least bit mindful of the rat's nest of wires and cords Robert would have to sort out later. Robert and Danielle retreated to Alex's old bedroom and shut the door behind them. Desperate for a few hours of sleep before the party started all over again. He'd already called report to Lucien. There was no need for Lucien to remind him. Nobody had to say it. Yet, it was on everybody's minds. They were running out of time. Darkest Before Dawn "Luckily for me, I guess, the vampire was as ruthless as my uncle. When I was drained to the point of death, he bit his wrist and forced me to take his blood. I was too weak to stop him. As I fed, he laughed at the creativity and cruelty of his revenge. My uncle was horrified. "When the first draughts of the change hit me. Freezing me as his blood surged through my body the vampire turned his wrath on my uncle. I lay on the floor twisting and wriggling in agony, watching every bit as helplessly as the vampire ripped out my uncle's throat, killing him instantly. I wanted his blood, Nikki. I wanted my uncle's blood." "I fell into unconsciousness, whether from shock or from being turned, I don't know. But, when I awoke, I found myself face down in an alley covered in filth and gore, abandoned by my maker. I wandered through the city, a lost, soulless thing. But, I finally made my way back to my uncle's house only to find it in ashes." "Oh my god! That's awful." Nikki shuddered in her skin and gasped in realization. "An eternal teenager." She couldn't guess his true age. His face was angelic and youthful framed by unruly waves of sandy brown hair. His body was lean and gangly, not the body of a man, but of a boy. But, his green eyes were haunted, reflecting myriad experiences she couldn't begin to fathom. "No," Patrick smirked, "Almost eternal. I do age. And I certainly can die. Its just a little harder to accomplish killing me." "How long ago was it?" "Over a century ago. The city was a lot smaller then. And people were a lot more trusting, finding a meal was easy." Patrick sighed. "When I realized what it was that I had become..." "A vampire," Nikki interjected. Patrick shook his head, "No, a killer. I fled the city trying to escape the temptations of my baser nature. I couldn't do it. I didn't want to kill. But, surrounded by humanity, what choice did I have?" "There are others like you?" Nikki asked, carefully wrapping her fingers around a sharp, cool, jagged wedge of glass that had fallen from the broken window. She held it up to her face and closed one eye. Peering at Patrick's fuzzy, distorted outline through the thick coating of grime. "Vampires that don't kill?" Idly, as if the plan in her mind hadn't taken root, she laid the bit of broken window on the floor and spun it on the grungy tile, round and round with the tip of her fingernail. "Yes, The Sons." Patrick's body stiffened as he watched Nikki pick the shrapnel from the window up between her fingers and slide just a little closer. "I didn't know they'd been tracking me. I was stupid and careless. All they had to do was follow the trail of corpses I left in my path. Led them right to me. By rights, they should have killed me then and there." He shook his head and dropped his chin to his chest in regret for what he knew he would do. "Right now, I wish they had." He lifted his eyes to Nikki's intent and calculating gaze. She was planning something. He could see it in her expression. Feel it thought the link from her blood. He worked so hard to cut her off, to disconnect their minds. He couldn't add her suffering and her hunger to his own. He couldn't endure the combined misery of them both to his fragile hold on his control. Otherwise, he'd snap. He'd do it for no other reason than to give her peace and deliver her from this hell. "Everyday since, I've worked hard to repay the favor, earn back the life they saved. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for them. I'd die for my brothers." "That's why you're here." Nikki filled in the rest of what Patrick hadn't said. She crawled across the dingy floor. Bits of grime and filth scraped across her palms and embedded on their surface. "These vampires, the ones that did this to us. They aren't friends?" Patrick snickered at Nikki's way with words. "Hardly. Captured by the enemy." He draped an arm over her shoulders and guided her head to rest against his chest. The soft pounding of her heart against his body was a comfort. Reminded him of what he suffered and fought for. And what he was willing to die for. Her life. Slowly, slicking his fingers over her hair, he whispered, "I'm only sorry that you're here with me. That by just being human, it was enough to drag you into this." Nikki closed her eyes and rested against the slight warmth of Patrick's chest. In this moment of clarity, she could see past the monster and see the man. "Patrick, if you don't make it. If...," she couldn't bring herself to finish the question. If he failed, if he forced her and took her life, he'd be one of them. Rogue. None of this was his fault anymore than it was hers. The situation they were in was a lose-lose situation. He could fight against his nature only so much longer. If...no when...he killed her, this man cradling her in his arms, stroking her hair with such tenderness, regret, and compassion would be gone forever. Leaving only a soulless shell behind, a tool for the rogues. If she made a choice, gave her life to him of her own free will. He'd be utterly and absolutely blameless, innocent of wrong. He couldn't save her life. But, she could save his in every way that mattered. Patrick pulled his arm free from around Nikki's shoulders and gave her a gentle nudge. "We'll make it," he said, jaw tightened in stubborn determination. "I will figure out a way to get you out of this. As for me, it doesn't matter. I won't do what they want. They need me alive. And I can live a very, very long time, Nikki. But, I can't live with myself. If I betray you I betray myself, and worst of all, my brothers. No matter what, I won't kill for the rogues." "Patrick," Nikki said low under her breath. Thin, pale traces of moonlight danced across the jagged, dangerously sharp and pointed scrap of glass. She reached out and traced a path with the end of her finger along its' cool, smooth surface. "Even if you could die. Even if you're not as valuable to them as you think you are and they kill you. I'm not getting out of this. If you don't do it, they will. How much longer do you think they'll let either one of us live? They won't wait forever. Patrick, neither one of us has forever, not in this life anyway." Patrick's shoulders slumped against the wall. Damn her for being right. The rogues wouldn't play the waiting game much longer. Eventually, they'd come. They'd force his secrets out of him. The gravity of her situation wasn't lost on either one of them. Sooner or later, her time would be up. She wasn't walking out of this, no matter what. He forced his eyes to meet hers. "I'm sorry," he said, in a thick, gravely voice, heavy with regret. "I'd rather have a choice." Tears sprang from the corners of Nikki's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. The glass meant to protect her from the outside world would be the means to send her out of this life and into the next. She gasped in pain as the sharp edge dug into her skin and dragged across her right wrist, tearing the flesh. Dizzy with wave of nausea, she watched the life bleed out of her. "Make my death worth something, Patrick." Darkest Before Dawn Ch. 02 This is chapter two of the story of the same title; it will probably make more sense as a tale if you read the first part before continuing: I was becoming more and more accepted into the life of the village. After my initiation into the ways local government worked round here, I realised that I was the first anthropologist in modern times (and maybe the only one ever) to have the option of studying such an unspoiled civilisation. These people, who hadn't got a name like all of the others tribes in Benin and who referred to themselves as The People - and to everybody outside of their tribe by the same title; who used sex as the lubricant in the mechanism of their society - for appeasement, for sorrow, for equanimity, for relaxation and most of all for pleasure. Since the night of the first orgy that had taken place after I had been invited to join the villagers in the adult sleeping house, I had been asked back to the same place numerous times during each day. Everybody wanted to try out this new (seemingly) exotic addition to the village. I said no a lot more times than I said yes - my libido just wasn't up to eight or ten such forays during each day. The way my friend Fayeye, the most open of the local young women, put it; being asked to get involved in a sexual tryst in their society held as much importance as an invitation for coffee in ours. A refusal wasn't ever likely to cause offence. However, now that I knew more of what took place within its confines, I couldn't help but notice that many of the villagers seemed to take the time out from whatever they were doing for a liaison of some sort at least a couple of times during each day. It was explained to me that I was being observed as a representative of all outside societies and that a decision about whether or not further representatives would be welcome was being deferred until they had a better handle on what we were like. Inside I knew that whenever they decided to accept other outsiders in, my sexual contact would almost certainly cease lest I be fired from my post for improper behaviour. It was two nights after my first orgy that I was invited to my next during a bathing session in the stone-lined bed of the stream which ran through the village. Fayeye had started helping me in my twice daily public ablutions, and it was she who extended the invitation. I watched closely as she tried to explain something new to me in their language of words, sounds, posture and gesture. A celebration of some sort was indicated by the rapid rise and fall of both eyebrows in conjunction with a toothy grin. Added to that she held both arms down, with her genital areas surrounded by open hands palms facing out. The new sign included a rumbling throaty chuckle interspersed with the word 'eutu', a dipping of the head with eyes ending up looking upwards at you and the opening and closing of the left hand from loose fist into open palm, fingers pointing up... very Amerindian like. It was another enigma in a plethora of them that I was coming across in my observations of these wonderful generous people. I puzzled over this new sign, asking for clarification of similar meanings twice before realising that tonight was the start of the annual celebration of the start of their settlement. Another tick in another box... a verbal rather than written history; I wondered how accurate it was in terms of dates... and how far back did it go? Dinner was roast jungle pig on a bed of sour sago served on a plantain leaf plate (the villagers' idea of disposable crockery) with copious amounts of their beer, followed by a semi-fermented fruit salad with crushed nuts - also with copious amounts of beer. Once the food was cleared away and the last of the children had made their way to the larger of the two huge sleeping huts, the remainder of the adults and I made our way carrying beers and jugs containing more of the same over to the other hut. Once inside, everybody took a place sitting against the long side walls of the dormitory; once we were all seated, all conversation stopped... one by one each villager stood up and told their part of the story of the village. My data recorder, sitting on the matting floor between my legs, caught it all... probably enough on that one recording for somebody back at the university to take a PhD on. The tone was serene without being too serious... I realised that this repeating of the history in front of everybody ensured that each part of it was remembered correctly. A memory failsafe that seemed to have worked successfully for the villagers for eons, the telling of their history took almost two and a half hours, during which even the beer drinking was kept in check. It came to an end with a great flourish of the teller's arms, the sign for all of those present. Immediately everybody stood and embraced each and every other person there. I just stood where I was, perplexed by what was going on in terms of what I was supposed to do... and got hugged and caressed by each of these gentle people. Fayeye was the first to embrace me; her shorter frame meant that she had to turn her beautiful face up to mine so that we could kiss. Her skin, as was all of the villagers, was the darkest of browns, so dark that it was only the closest examination of the most personal parts of their bodies that told me that they weren't as black as jet. Her colour was so deep that she looked as if your fingers might pass through her as easily as they would through the darkness of the night. Her teeth and the whites of her eyes were beacons in the flickering torchlight of the hut and the deep hazel of her iris, pools deep enough to lose myself in. She passed beyond me and her place was taken by one then another of the people and then, eventually, she was back. The second embrace was different - so different. This time her lips pushed hard at me forcing her teeth against mine, her tongue hammered rapidly against my teeth until they opened to her. Then it snaked into my mouth, enveloping and pulling at mine. She tasted of fruit, so sweet I would have been willing to swear she was partly made of honey. She pulled me to her so that our bodies meld, our shapes joined in a line from knee to neck. She ran firm hands down both sides of my back and over the curves of my bum, squeezing before continuing down the back of my thighs. Her fingers curved and her nails scraped lines in the back of my legs; causing ripples which run up and down making me feel as if my legs might just give way under the burgeoning weight of such stimulation. Her tongue pulled mine out through my teeth and into her mouth; her teeth grip it and massage it, sending even more ripples of delight from my tongue down inside of me. I moaned and lowered my eyelids in an attempt to contemplate all that I was feeling; I felt myself swooning as her fingernails scrape up each side of me from above my knees to the sides of my breasts before pushing between us to capture both my nipples in her fingers. She twisted and pulled at what she has grabbed; I manoeuvred her backwards towards the raised platform at the end of the dorm - she was as eager as me and tumbled slowly and surely backwards with me as the back of her knees came into contact with it. I was on top of her, she is still pulling on my nipples and biting at my tongue and lips but as soon as her weight is taken from her feet she is pushing a sweat-slicked thigh between mine, and then started mashing her pussy against mine, shifting from side to side until she could feel that our clits are together. Nothing I've experienced up to now has prepared me for the bolt of erogenous lightening that coursed between those two sensitive organs and I screamed into her mouth as my entire body turned rigid. In an instant my first orgasm was on me. My shaking body caused more rapid contact between our panic buttons and the first was followed by another, which in turn gave Fayeye her first of the evening. We broke apart to take breath, my body still shuddering and spasming as we lay side by side. I caught my breath, loving the post-orgasmic internal shivers that course from my centre down each limb to my extremities. I became aware of others around me and open my eyes to not one but two dicks being pushed in the direction of my lips; I pushed out my tongue and the two of them rasp back and forth against the top and bottom of it. I heard a swishing noise before feeling the slap on my breast. I ignored the cocks and half sat up... one of the older women had a hand full of palm fronds which rubbed their rough surfaces against my tit and nipple as she dragged them down my torso. Satisfied, I turned my attention back to the waiting men. I turned onto my stomach and lifted myself up so that I might go down on them both. Face to face I pull both erections towards each other and into my mouth; the foreskins stretched back behind such beautiful belled ends as I examined my prize. I could only fit a couple of inches of each in between my teeth, but their rubbing against each other on one side and against the chiselled edges of my front teeth on the other seems to produce just about their desired effect. One moaned outwardly while the other sucked breath in through rounded lips, a concerto to my efforts. My arse must have looked to all and sundry as if it desperately need some attention, because that's what it got...in spades. The two cocks pushing back and forth into my mouth were starting to give me that feeling of empowerment that a good blow job gives a woman... they could have been putty in my hands. I could have entreated them to climb any mountain or fight any war, just so long as I continued. I felt a hand and then lips on each of my arse cheeks, hands pulling and rubbing, lips sucking and kissing, tongues licking, teeth biting. My cheeks are pulled apart and one mouth leaves the cheek and a tongue darts a round trip into the creases of my rear entrance. I try not to stop sucking, rising up and down on the two cocks, the owners of which are embracing each other above my head. The tongue on my puckered back door stops, for a second... long enough to send a surge of disappointment coursing through me, before the mouth bites at my arsehole, taking the whole of it between teeth that bite over and over. My sensitive arsehole has never experienced anything like it and it sends a further bolt through me. Involuntarily my hips bucked up and down slamming my pussy and clit onto the rush floor of the platform and I was coming again. My orgasm must have made me add just enough pressure on the two cocks in my mouth because they swell, pushing my mouth open further before both started to shake. Simultaneously the two men stop their embrace, ululating yodels of celebration as their dicks push hard against my lips and teeth before pumping spunk alternately one after another into my mouth. I start to gulp but am stopped from swallowing by a hand around my throat, my mouth feels as if it is being filled to overflowing, but the cocks withdraw still oozing the end of the two men's orgasms. The hand on my throat pulls my face up to his and pushes his tongue into my mouth; it seeks the pool of warm semen and sucks at it using his curled tongue as an improvised ladle. He lets go of me and as I fall back I see him seeking out the lips of the other man. The sight of his spunky tongue reaching through the gap between them and being met by the other mans sent further shudders through me... the deepest thrill... that concerning the dirty and naughty: things taboo since my childhood. The biting at my arse has stopped and the tongue removed. I start to turn over onto my back, but initially I am prevented from doing so for a second or two before the restraining hands change and help to turn me over. For the first time I see that the two who had been assailing my behind were a man and woman, she is now drooling beaded lines of spit onto his cock as he finishes turning me and the lifts my legs to his shoulders, she pulls away without letting go of his engorged member. He shuffles forward on his knees and I feel the bulbous end of him as she pushes it against my sopping backside. In one push its shining head is inside me, barely a second's pause before she pushed against his behind, forcing his whole length into me. A burning sensation turned to a harsh tingle, and as the burning spreads deeper inside it became a heated bar of enervating thrills. She reached around pulling at the hood behind which sits my clit, it popped out from its little shield; immediately she slaps it, and again; he pulled back, and she slapped my clit then spun on the platform until she knelt astride of my face before squatting. With her free hand she tried to gather both of my nipples, achieving it by stretching them to their absolute limit. The cock in my arse starts to speed up and she begins to hump at my face in the same rhythm, increasing the rate at which she slaps my clit. I can only recoil from her hand by following the fat cock as it withdraws. Her clit came within range and I bit at it - she didn't pull away but pulled harder back as I gripped it between my teeth, then she came, squirting a sweet and sour mixture from her pussy over my face and neck; at the third spurt I let go of her clitoris and sought to take some of her warm juices into my mouth. For the fourth and fifth squirt she pushed her cunt down on my mouth and screamed her release. The taste was slightly vinegar and honey... the best salad dressing ever. As she shuddered to a halt she reached down and pinched my clit between two nails, just as the man pushes in hard and then stops to explode his come deep into the recess of my arse. I twist my body against his dick and her nails before another orgasm rushes me. It's too much and I slip rapidly into the comforting surrounds of my subconscious. ... to be continued... Edited with her usual finesse by Hotti... thanks