0 comments/ 54348 views/ 15 favorites The Burning By: devle 1643 He was the town magistrate of Manchester a little young for the job that his father had left to him but at twenty six he was more than ready to do all he could for the townspeople. It was late spring and the grass grew green on the hillside with wildflowers now abundant in every wife's home. Cyril Lord walked back to his house breathing in the fresh night air. There was only one problem that burned in his mind as he came home from his bath in the pond. It was the problem with the witches. Cyril wasn't sure he believed in witches but his father and even God himself had commanded that he should not allow a witch to live. There were stirrings in the town with reports of witches bandied about. Cyril hoped there were none to be found in his town. The air felt cool against his damp skin and hair. He had left his shirt off since it was dark, showcasing his ruggedly muscled body, yet no one was about to see his nakedness. Dragging a hand through his damp brown hair Cyril yawned. In the distance he heard delicate female laughter. Narrowing his gray eyes Cyril tried to look deeper into the dark forest that surrounded him. There was nothing to be seen. Cyril shook his head thinking that he was overly tired from working his farm and helping to build a house for Michael Forrester. He heard it again though and took off running towards the sound determined to know if his mind was playing tricks on him. He came into a small clearing where a girl danced about in the sliver of moonlight. He drew in a breath, Salome Estes. She was a beautiful girl in a white dress with leaves and flowers in her hair holding out her skirts as she spun about laughing freely. Her parents were dead and Salome lived alone in their house on the outskirts of town. Why had he never noticed how lovely she was? How the moon lit up her dark hair which hung free in spiral waves to her waist. Cyril felt a strange burning in his chest that slowly spread outward throughout his whole body centering in his groin. He watched her dance as one possessed unable to take his eyes off her. From that moment Cyril knew that she had to be his. Every night from then on for a fortnight he watched Salome come out and dance in the darkness she always returned to the same spot and seemed unaware of his presence. Cyril still burned in fact he became obsessed no longer did the town matters concern him thoughts of Salome filled his head making him unable to work, eat or sleep. On the fifteenth day he went to visit Salome Estes. Her home was a small wood cabin, clean and well kept. When he knocked on the door Salome called for him to enter. He stepped inside and was immediately overwhelmed by the smell of baking bread. He turned into the kitchen to see Salome in a blue dress pulling bread hot from the oven. She looked up at him and smiled recognizing Cyril Lord. He was a handsome man tall with broad shoulders and an indomitable strength. Salome loved his gray eyes that seemed so mysterious and wary as they looked at her. "Mr. Lord," She said wiping her hands on her apron. "Do sit down." She indicated one of the kitchen chairs. "To what do I owe this surprise?" All the words, the pretexts that Cyril had made up to gain him access to her fled him. He could only stare in awe of her beauty watching as she cut thick slices of bread placing them before him along with a pot of honey. She sat before him smoothing a dark strand of hair back from her cheek. "Please help yourself." She nudged the honey pot toward him. Silence stretched between them as they looked at each other. Abruptly Cyril rose to his feet to pace the small confines of the now overly warm kitchen. Salome sat back enjoying the sight of the rippling muscles of his chest and abs beneath his black workshirt. He had the sleeves rolled up exposing his thick forearms. Between her legs a pounding started that slowly turned into a low fire Salome bit her lower lip as she watched the man of her fantasies walk about in her house. Oh how she had dreamed of Cyril Lord ever since they were children wanting even then to be his wife. He stopped abruptly on the opposite side of the kitchen staring at her. Salome felt the color rise in her cheeks as she remembered that she had undone her bodice due to the heat from the oven and was no doubt showing her cleavage. Without another word he turned and left. "She's bewitched me." Cyril whispered as lay on his knees later that night his bible in his hands. "And I know not what to do." He watched her that night but she didn't sing and dance instead she paced much as he had in her house. The heat grew unbearable to Cyril so that he stripped his shirt off watching Salome with burning eyes. His cock was hard as steel watching her slight form wind in and out of the trees making him think of how she would wrap herself about him when he took her. With a low growl he emerged from his hiding place springing up to catch Salome to him pressing her nearly naked flesh into the bare skin of his chest. "Salome," He groaned pressing her harder into him. Salome was startled at first then she recognized Cyril. His body was so hot his skin burned her as she tried to get out of his grasp yet she only succeeded in rubbing her intimate flesh against Cyril's flaming hard cock. Cyril fisted his hand in her hair pulling her head back to kiss the sensitive skin that smelled of roses. "Cyril," Her plea lost in the night. Cyril kissed her mouth demanding and hard until she opened her lips allowing him to taste her. Tentatively she stroked him back with her tongue feeling the shudder that passed through Cyril's body. He tore his mouth from hers. "I want you. I've wanted you since I first saw you." He pressed burning kisses against her throat. "You must be mine." His last words caused a frisson of fear to run down Salome's spine. She brought her hands up to Cyril's huge chest and pushed. "I must be yours? I don't have to do a damn thing." "What the hell are you saying, Salome?" Cyril's hands gripped brutally hard on Salome's upper arms causing her to wince. "You don't want this?" His lips came down on hers hard. "NO!" Salome shoved at Cyril with all her strength. He was pushed back a pace but before Salome could turn and flee Cyril caught her slamming her up against a tree. Salome gave out a wince of pain as her head hit the trunk of the tree. Cyril gently cupped her face in his hands trapping her against the tree with his barely clothed hard body. "You have to be with me." He placed tiny kisses on her mouth and cheeks. "You have to marry me." "No, no please…" Cyril's hands, rough and callused, trailed over her smooth skin moving down her leg then back up underneath her skirt touching the hot flesh of her inner thigh. She gasped at the intimacy of his touch. "You want this. You want me." He breathed. Salome moaned as his skilled fingers found her wet cunt Salome could feel his fingers caress the dampened flesh of her thighs going higher and higher to finally caress her bare cunt. Salome tentatively reached up to feather her fingers over the bronzed skin of Cyril's back. His lips came back to hers. "You're mine." Salome's eyes met his. His eyes became darkened with lust as he slipped a finger inside her tight wet cunt. It hurt slightly and Salome jumped. "I love you, Salome." Cyril whispered heatedly. He removed his finger leaving Salome in a state of complete shock as his hands tore apart her bodice exposing her breasts to the warm night air. Like a starving man he fell to sucking her nipples greedily. Salome arched her head back her hands against the back of Cyril's neck urging him on. "Cyril," She called out his name as the curious flames that had begun as delicious tingles began to grow in intensity into a full fledged fire. He was making her want this. He had to know that she had been watching him for as long as she could remember, praying that he would notice her, loving him in secret. But she never thought he would notice her like this. She never thought that he would rape her here in her forest and make her want it. He began to push her skirts out of his way. Her hot hands lay on his chest as he undid his pants releasing his hard cock. God, how he ached for her there. "I'm dying for you, Salome." He kissed the smooth column of her throat pushing her thighs apart with his knees. Salome jerked in his arms at the unexpected heat and feel of the head of his cock at the entrance to her sopping cunt. This was so wrong. And yet it felt so right. Cyril lunged forth seating himself deeply inside Salome catching her cry with his kiss. God, she felt so good yet Cyril was no idiot he knew very well what he was doing. To take her now meant to risk getting her with child even if that didn't happen no man would want her now that she had been known by another. It was all working out so perfectly. Salome felt Cyril deep inside her. She shivered at the extremely intimate feel of him. This was only supposed to happen with her husband. But when Cyril began to move thrusting hard and deep Salome lost all thoughts giving herself up to the intense moment. Her body felt as if it were on fire suddenly consumed in hot burning flames she cried out into the night hearing the same agonized cry from Cyril's lips. For a time all was silent except for the raggedness of their breathing, the pounding of their hearts as they lay against each other. Cyril moved away to right his pants looking up to see Salome smooth her skirts and push back her wild dark hair with shaking hands. "You have to marry me now." Cyril's voice cut through the darkness making Salome jump. Startled she met his gray eyes lit up by the faint starlight. "I can't." Not even Salome herself knew why she still resisted. Cyril grabbed her wrist in a bruising grip. "You will." "The hell with you." Cyril was frightening her now with the harsh grip on her wrist and the mad gleam in his eye. Salome tried to wrench her hand away from him but found her neck encircled by his other hand. "I'll cry witch if you don't." Cyril had thrown down the proverbial gauntlet. Salome's dark eyes turned into slits. "You wouldn't dare. They would crucify me and I would be lost to you either way." A sheen of madness glinted in his eyes as he tightened his hold on her neck. "You see your choices. So choose." His voice a coaxing whisper. At the continual resistance in her eyes Cyril placed his warm lips by her ear. "You know they would believe me." His voice a low whisper that would have been soothing on any other occasion. "Would you really rather burn at the stake then be my wife, my everything?" Salome was now beginning to realize the extent of Cyril's obsession and a cold raw fear gripped her. Cyril released her but instead of running away the two faced each other in the night. No one would believe her if she cried rape against the magistrate nor would they believe the blackmail that Cyril was now using to force her into marriage. She had often dreamed of what marriage would be like specifically if she were married to Cyril Lord. But she could never have imagined this. "You hate me, don't you? This is some twisted form of punishment isn't it?" Salome's voice sounded small and wary. "I could never hate you, Salome. I burn inside with wanting you to be mine for all time." "Yet you would cry witch on one you claim to love?" "I'll do whatever it takes to make you mine." He took a step toward her looking sleek and dark like a panther. Despite all that had occurred Salome wanted Cyril, had always known in her heart that somehow they would be together. Did she really want to die? "Yes." In the ensuing years that came during which many towns turned on its own women crying witch at every turn the sleepy little town of Manchester lay quiet and untouched by the horrid Burning Times. The town magistrate Cyril Lord ruled the town in a wise and economical way he was always there to help any townsman and his lovely wife always kept a neat home and greeted her husband with ardent words of love each night. Some of the townfolk quietly speculated that the couple married so quickly due to an imminent child yet his wife very properly waited a good two years before she gave birth to their first child. Yes, they muttered amongst themselves those two were always meant to be together. The intense looks they often gave each other, if seen by an outsider, would have been mistaken for hate when the whole town knew that their love bordered on obsession. There was no one in the town who could say that Cyril Lord was an unhappy man. Not when he had everything he had ever wanted.