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The Cellar Ch. 01

By: jiskitten



Part One:

Sleep was not a gift readily afforded those spiraling down the rabbit hole of heroine withdrawal. So it was no surprise to Jo that she had awoken several times, her mind beleaguered by voices and her body sodden with a persistent sweat no cold shower could subdue. The first night was always the worst.

But as the days progressed, the physical pains waned and things settled back into a more normal state of being. But the voices, however, did not stop and seemed intent on driving her insane.

If Jo had learned anything during her three years of addiction, it was that you should never waive your Miranda rights and rehab was just like high school, complete with idiots who had nothing better to do than fuck with people. So it was now imperative she discern the target of this ongoing prank. Find the victim, find the culprit. It was a simple equation.

With rapt focus she strained to isolate the words, pulling apart the syllables, concentrating on the vowels, parsing and reconnecting the components, until the pieces fell into place.

"Jo," she repeated, "come find me." Jo tossed the covers from her legs and shot up from her pillow. "Me? What the fuck did I do? I just got here!"

This is precisely why jail doesn't work, she thought to herself, see what happens when you toss a bunch of miscreants together.

"You can't mush people of the same ilk into one place!" derisively she snarled, pounding her fists against the mattress. "It breeds chaos!"

There was no denying that rehab was boring as hell. But driving people bat shit crazy didn't seem an appropriate way to quench one's thirst for entertainment.

"Seriously? Do you have nothing better to do? This is fucking ridiculous!" Jo rolled from her bed and scudded across the tatty wood floor, throwing open her door. "Where are you?" she hissed. "Stop fucking with me!"

She honed in on the chatter, following it down the vaulted corridor to a garishly carved door at its conclusion.

Fucker, she thought mindlessly as she shoved it open, intent on finding the joker responsible for keeping her up.

"Where are you?" she barked, her fists clenching to the point of numbness, her fingernails digging deep into her palms. "I swear, you are so dead when I find you!" she snarled as she skittered down the wide stone steps to the cellar.

No sooner had she reached the bottom, than she noticed something stir within the shadows and when her eyes shot up, the chatting abruptly stopped. The figure of a man loomed steeped within the darkness, his face obscured by the charcoal cowl of a short crinoline coat, and he made no effort to reveal himself.

"Was it you?" she demanded, jabbing an accusatory finger through the air.

"Was what me?" he asked, the warm dulcet tones of his voice momentarily quelling her agitation.

Jo's shoulders relaxed as she watched his long fingers twining together in hypnotic repetition. "Was it you... calling my name?" her voice softened.

A soft chuckle escaped his unseen lips. "I can assure you, I haven't heard a thing."

Her eyes narrowed as the anger resurfaced. "So why are you down here?" she clamored.

Ignoring her demand, he continued without pause, "I recommend you go back to your room. But if you're intent on your pursuit, then perhaps you should try down the hall... the lights will guide you there." Genteelly he tipped his head before disappearing fully into ebony shadow.

"'The lights will guide you there'," she mocked as she pattered down the corridor, the lights leading her deeper into the belly of the cellar. "Who says shit like that?"

The voice began again and with each passing step it grew stronger, drawing her toward a tall oak door at the very end of the wide, arched corridor.

"Come out you coward!" she barked, while pushing purposefully through the door. But the room appeared empty. Nothing adorned it vastness but a dimly lit chandelier, trickling from the high domed ceiling and a stone cathedra, centered squarely beneath the apex of the room's arched ribs.

"This is ridiculous, I'm ridiculous," she muttered, plopping into the colossal seat and sweeping her bare feet across the cold slate floor. "I'm crazy."

That was the only alternate theory. Insanity. Strange shadow man didn't hear anything, no one else was pacing the halls wracked with frustration and she was now sitting alone in a room after chasing a voice that concluded there.

So this was life, she assessed. Her mind was now driftwood in a wasted sea of perpetual delirium, no doubt induced by years of junk.

"You came," the deep, gravelly voice ricocheted throughout the room, bouncing against the unclad walls and clattering against her ears.

"Where are you?" Jo demanded, her eyes panning the empty room.

With a voice as calming as Xanax he answered, "Beside you."

She flailed her arms through the empty expanse of air. "Bullshit," she spat, "there's no one there, where are you?"

Fluttering heat, like the caress of fingertips, traced the length of her arms, creating ceaseless waves of goose bumps. 

A whisper of fabric brushed first her left shoulder and then her right. Jo glanced and noticed the thin straps of her nightgown slipping down her arms as her gown spilled easily to her waist, nestling in soft pools of cotton against her thighs. There was a moment of panic, a fraction of a second in which she felt flooded with terror, yet she sat frozen and made no move to reclaim her gown.

The delicate hint of a sweet, earthy breeze swept her cheek, bringing with it a soothing calm that washed over her tensed muscles, relaxing her rigid body.

It was amazing how detached she now felt, as if the fear was lingering somewhere beyond her, still there yet completely inaccessible, leaving only physical sensation.

For reasons that made very little sense, Jo slipped her arms from the fetters of her gown, no longer harboring any desire to conceal herself. The remnants of fabric were quickly replaced by the unmistakable warmth of hands, sliding beneath her breasts and she watched in awe as the flesh of her nipples grew taut, perking shamelessly between unseen fingers. 

"What are you?" Jo marveled as she felt an arrhythmic flutter climb like ivy up her thighs, slowly peeling them apart. "Seriously," she gasped as her hips jerked to the edge of the chair. "Who are you?"

"I promise I'll be kind," the voice purred.

What? Who says that?

A pulsing heat insinuated itself between her thighs, pressing hard against her pelvis. An unseen weight bore down against her stomach as the feel of velvety lips swept against the soft flesh of her breast. A supple tongue slowly laved her nipple, followed by a delicately teasing nip against her skin. She could see the traces of saliva against her flesh and yet its origin was still unclear.

"I can't see you." This was utterly insane, there was no one there. "I'm crazy, that's it. That crap rotted my brain and I've completely lost my mind. They all told me this would happen. And my mom always said it was better to be a drunk than a junkie," she gasped, as the weight lifted from her body.

"You're not honestly going to prattle on about that are you?"

"I won't prattle if you tell me what you are," she blurted.

It must be the drugs, it simply had to be. What normal human being straddles an invisible man, completely aroused, while having a nonsensical debate about whether or not they're crazy?

"You are, aren't you? You're going to prattle away incessantly."

"I just need to know, I won't prattle, I promise," she pleaded.

"So much for prolonging the moment," the throaty voice growled.

A violent tug of her hips found her thighs resting against the undeniable musculature of shoulders. Is this what crazy felt like? So far, crazy didn't seem all that bad.

Jo struggled to prop herself on her elbows. Even in the dim light of the room she could see the soft pink blossom of her labia flush violent red with arousal. Three years in the sex trade and she'd never witnessed that before.

As if in tune with her thoughts, her legs fell open, hooking around firm forearms as a warm breeze flooded the delicate flesh between her legs. There was a moment of absolute stillness, a tick of uncertainty, and then perfect calm poured through her body.

It was now without thought or hesitation that she tipped her hips forward and welcomed him in. But still he made her wait, blowing warm teasing promises against her florid flesh as her body twitched between powerful hands.

"Please?" she squeaked, hoping she had chosen the correct response.

Glorious acquiescence followed in the form of a tongue. Though she could not see it, there was no questioning what it was. Her eyes snapped shut as it gently played along the tender folds of her most delicate treasure seeming to delight in her taste. He took his time, swirling in slow deliberate circles around her clit, yet never touching it. Gingerly it slipped between her parted lips and sank deep inside. With tremendous focus it twisted and rolled with her walls, collecting the first deluge of orgasm before slowly withdrawing.

Jo felt her head roll back as she succumbed to the sensation and gasped sharply when her body shuddered in a coalescence of pleasure and surprise.

The warmth of his tongue lingered at the base of her clitoris, taunting and coaxing it between a set of soft, full lips. A rush of heat flooded her loins as he teased it into his mouth, gently rolling his hot tongue around its sensitive edges. Jo gasped again as his tongue flicked tenderly across her engorged clitoris, tickling it with soft, vibrating strokes. His mouth now seemed to hum against her swollen flesh, allowing her a slow progression of pleasure as opposed to the all-out assault to which she had grown accustom.

Something pressed against her labia, a finger perhaps, slowly parting her and easing gently inside. For a moment it played alone, but was quickly joined by another. Their rhythm, slow and methodical, was perfectly in tune with that glorious tongue in a symphony of pleasure between her legs.

She felt herself spread wider as a third finger joined in the explosive harmony, its rhythm quickly joining that of its companions.

The roll of her hips signified complete submission, it mattered not who or what he was, that was an inconsequentiality she'd concern herself with at another time. What mattered now were the tickle of fingertips against her g-spot and the ever-present glory of his masterful tongue.

Lost in sensation, Jo thrust her hips forward, working him deeper, absorbing every inch of his fingers and delighting in the fevered pitch of his tongue. And, as a wave of pleasure arced through her body, she felt herself release fully against the stiffness of his hand.

Seeking better leverage, her hands firmly gripped the edges of the armrest and pulled hard against it, bearing down against his long fingers, begging them deeper still.

His response was immediate and he added the fourth, slamming them ruthlessly against her g-spot as his mouth worked to consume her. Only this time, he did not withdraw. This time, his fingers stay lodged deep inside as they played against her most sensitive spot while his tongue returned to the task of toying with her clit.

With his free hand he pressed hard against her pelvis, seeming to join forces with the other.  In concert they worked mercilessly to drive her over the edge, one hand manipulating her from the outside while the other from within.

Her pelvis rocked between them as orgasm roared through her core. And when her abdomen fluttered in response to this explosive new sensation, his hand pressed harder, forcing her muscles against the fingers lodged deep within her loins. As ceaseless waves of orgasm crashed through her core, his tongue responded with renewed vigor. He drew her clit deep within his mouth, locking it there, holding it hostage as his tongue played mercilessly against its engorged flesh.

"Fuck!" she screamed as spasm tore through her loins, consuming every muscle and spilling her like jelly against the chair.

He lingered there, unmoving, seeming to delight in the feel of her pulsing contractions as her abdomen twitched between his magnificent hands.

A hint of breath blew warm against her ravaged flesh, beckoning her legs to open wider, and she readily consented.

His hand withdrew from between her legs, immediately replaced by his mouth which consumed her whole. It seemed he was intent on collecting the spoils of the war he had waged against her and she surrendered every ounce of what he sought.

But when the spasms stopped he withdrew, his presence simply disappearing into the ether.

"Do you intend to return here?" he asked, his voice now far away.

What a question. How does one answer that? "I don't know," she stammered breathlessly.

"I would prefer if you did not," he chided, his voice flat and unaffected.

"Why?" she asked with marked shock, her voice cracking under the strain of disappointment.

"I am not certain I can restrain myself next time."

"From what?" she asked meekly, now feeling a glimmer of hope.

Curtly he replied, "Please do not return."

Jo collapsed against the cold, unforgiving stone, completely spent and yet alive with sensation the likes of which she had never felt. She lay crumpled, unable to move, an occasional spasm reminding her of the ecstasy she'd endured. It took her body forever to respond to her commands, seeming to override her brain in the hopes he might return.

Finally, she stood and collected her twisted nightgown from the floor, slowly encasing her tingling skin in its alien grasp as she staggered into the corridor.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Mr. Shadow Dweller asked as she mindlessly toddled past.

He'd shed himself of his cowl, exposing his exquisite face. His sharp, angular jaw melded beautifully with a perfectly squared chin. Crisp green eyes, like brilliant emeralds, softened the ruggedness of his features, creating a harmonious balance under tussocks of raven hair.

"I... I have no idea," she stuttered, wildly shaking her head.

"You shouldn't come down here again," he reminded.

"That's what I keep hearing," she mumbled as she climbed the stairs.

    *   *   *

Jo's fingers tapped impatiently against the counter, its scarred ivory linoleum, inset with anemic gold flecks, mocking the beautiful marble which slathered the walls.

"Hi Mom," Joelle chirped as soon as her mother's voice slurred its introduction.

"Jo baby, how's things?" her mother garbled. Jo could practically smell the bourbon seeping through the phone.

It'd been nearly six months since they'd last spoken. Her mother had been riding the perpetual wave of rehab and relapse, and it had become nearly impossible to keep track of her. But before Jo herself entered rehab, her mom's most recent loser boyfriend, Sam, sent her a text with his home number and asked her to call. Though the reason was never made clear, she took the hint and called.

"Things are okay. How about you?" Jo asked, feigning interest.

"You know, no complaints. Any new men in your life?"

"Only every night," she joked, knowing her mother was already hip to her licentious behavior. It was only last year that she'd called from the Sheriff's barracks and asked for five hundred dollars bail, which her mother flatly denied.

"No one special?" her mother stammered.

Jo wondered if her orgasmic invisible man counted. "No."

"Well you should settle down, find a man, let him take care of you."

"I can take care of myself. How'd rehab go this time?" she asked, already knowing the answer but desperate to change the subject.

"Left early, too many stupid rules," she snipped. "Listen baby, take my advice, get yourself clean, find a nice man and let him take care of the rest. You're young yet and twenty ain't too young to go gettin' yourself married either. I have to go, Sam needs his breakfast."

The phone clicked.

"I love you too mom." Jo slammed the phone into the cradle and flipped it off. "And I'm twenty one, so go fuck yourself!"

    *   *   *

He'd kept his word, the insolent pest pleaded for her every night, begging her to visit, imploring her to descend the stairs so he may taste her again. She resisted, though on more than one occasion found her feet planted at the door to the cellar, wondering how she'd arrived there.

By the third night he was a near constant thought, the feel of his mouth, his tongue, the delightfully agonizing pleasure of his fingers. Every dream was consumed by passionate memories, playing in a never ending loop of ecstasy.

On the lonelier nights, she tried her best to remember his technique, placing her fingers deep inside and gently tickling them around. And tonight, was just such a night.

"This is ridiculous," she huffed, feeling unsatisfied by the meager endeavor between her legs. "I suck," she sighed, resigned to dissatisfaction.

Instead, she tried counting sheep, reciting what she could remember of The Declaration of Independence, solving basic math problems and singing every Zeppelin song she could think of, but all roads led back to him. After hours of futile exercises and pointless recitations, exhaustion finally took hold and the weight of her lids pulled her into sleep.

The room was still dark when the shock of stirring sheets jolted her awake. When the warmth of a body settled beside her, Jo flung the blanket from her bed, revealing the intruder.

"Don't make a sound," a sultry voice cooed through the darkness.

Her eyes strained to adjust, taking in the muted shapes of his face.

Immediately she recognized the disturbed man from the cellar. Though he was stunning, she still didn't want him in her bed. Who the hell did he think he was? Rapist freak. "You!" she hissed.

"Did I not just ask you to remain quiet?" he smiled.

"Get out!" she snarled.

"That's no way to treat an old friend, I thought you'd be quite pleased to see me," he purred as his hand travelled the curve of her neck.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, slapping away his hand. "Why would I be 'pleased' to see you?" Okay, so he was beyond sublime, but that still didn't give him carte blanche to sneak into her bed, however rousing he might be.

"We had such fun together, I presumed... perhaps I was mistaken, my sincerest apologies."

"You?" she gasped, still trying to reconcile the pieces of the puzzle. "Bullshit!"

"I'm afraid so. Do I no longer appeal to you?" he sounded confused.

"No... what I mean is... you," she sputtered. Had she missed something? Or was this simply part of being crazy? Delusions are known to manifest in many different ways, she considered thoughtfully.

"I appear to have frightened you, I'll leave you now," tenderly he relented.

He slipped from the bed and recovered her blanket from the floor, laying it softly across her body.

"Wait," she blurted as his hand met the doorknob.

Coyly, he smiled in return. "Yes?"

"Is it really you?" Her eyes strained against the darkness, studying his face. The voice sounded the same, she recognized that now, but that night... there was no way he could have made it down the hallway before her. Besides, he was visible. Mr. Mysterious was not... visible.

Wow, was she really having this conversation with herself? Had she vaulted beyond the walls of disturbed and into the realm of sheer lunacy?

"Yes," he afforded, "it is most certainly me."

"Then stay." Okay, this station stop was definitely Crazytown and she was now gleefully hopping off the train.

He strolled slowly to the edge of her bed, awaiting an invitation. "Do you no longer wish to know my name?"

"No, I mean yes... I do... please, tell me," she fumbled awkwardly.

"You are more than welcome to call me by my given name, Lucien."

"And what are you Lucien? Apparition? My wild, depraved imagination? Shape shifter? Voodoo Priest? Hallucination? What?"


The Cellar Ch. 01



"That's quite a list," he laughed. "I am Incubo."

"Incubo? Like Incubus?" Sure, and she was Queen Demento, goddess of all things absurd.

"Precisely like that," he smiled. "Does that not terrify you?"

"Oddly, no... you don't terrify me, though I think I much prefer the name Lucien..." she muttered. "Come... please." She pulled back the covers and slid her body against the wall. All aboard, next stop Looneyville.

"Your name," he started.

"Jo," she interrupted.

"Yes, I am already aware of that. What does it mean?"

"It's short for Joelle," she offered, willing to play along with this nutty game of charades. Two syllables, sounds like lazy... oh yeah... crazy.

"I much prefer that, Jo sounds so... masculine."

"Fine, just don't let it get around," she quipped, "I have a rep to maintain."

"I assure you, these lips are quite sealed," he smiled.

"That's too bad." And there it was, the old trickster in her reemerging; the game player, the temptress. She regretted the words the moment they spilled from her lips.

"Take off your nightgown," he commanded, ignoring her retort.

She nodded her agreement and peeled the gown from her body.

"I'd prefer if you slept naked from now on," he uttered, running his tongue across her firm nipple.

Again there was no hesitation, just nods of unwavering accedence. Sure, why not lay naked every night, waiting for some nut job who believed to be spawned by the devil's loins? Sounds like a perfectly reasonable plan.

Lucien whipped the blanket from the bed and tossed it on the chair at its end. She was lovely, lying there completely naked with the resplendent glow of moonlight hugging her every curve. It glinted against her ivory skin like twinkling starlight. Even under its pale light, her cerulean eyes shone a brilliant sapphire.

Everything about her was pure perfection. From the curve of her hip to the bevel of her jaw, she was stunning. But that was not the cause of his attraction, though it was certainly a delicious perk.

Lucien smiled wickedly, pleased that she was now welcoming him of her own volition. "Now spread your legs."

Joelle complied without discord. Why stop now?

"I'm going to make you cum now." His hands slid assuredly up her thighs, easily finding their quarry. He smiled, feeling her heels hook over the backs of his arms, drawing his mouth closer.

"You're 'going to make me cum now'," Joelle repeated. "Okay, so let's see if you are who you say you are." Damn it, there it was again. Freakin' genie! Go back in your damn bottle already, she silently scolded.

As soon as she felt his mouth press against her, she knew he was precisely who he claimed to be. Nice to finally put a face with a tongue, she thought.

Lucien took his time coaxing every ounce of marrow from the well of her loins. No one had ever surprised him before, but on the night he first tasted her, he was beyond shocked. It exceeded his wildest expectations that someone with the sexual prowess of a hooker could be so fully stocked.

Normally he gave these women a wide berth, as they tended to be more than a little unpalatable and offered little reward for the investment of his time.

But, from the moment her scent tickled his throat he understood she was special. Just how special, was not clear until he first tasted her. Joelle possessed the most perfect blend of sin and innocence, it was enchanting.

Tonight she'd surprised him even more, for behind every orgasm brewed another. It seemed as though she'd never before reached the pinnacle of rapture, as if she had been saving it for him.

More than once he tried to pull from her, recognizing the growing strain on her body, yet it was impossible to leave. After tonight, an escape plan would be crucial.

"Fuck me," weakly she pleaded in his ear, decimated from hours of their amorous dalliances.

"No, not here," he whispered.

"Then where?" she groaned in agitation.

"Your dreams. It is best we limit these times together to simpler pleasures... 'fucking' you would be... delectably complicated." 

Lucien grudgingly moved from the bed, softly kissing her panting mouth before slipping from her room.

    *   *   *

Weeks passed, he called to her every night and yet, per his request, she resisted. When she became too desperate to sleep he would magically appear, sensing her weakening resolve. It was an awful, frustrating dance.

Yet, despite her constant frustration, she never refused to welcome him into her bed and eagerly availed herself of his generosity.

Tonight, however, was different. Tonight was the fourth sleepless night in a row, and the feel of her own fingers against her clit was so utterly anticlimactic, she'd finally breached the walls of sanity.

"Stupid, jerk!" she grumbled, flipping the covers from her legs. "Beg me to come, then shoo me away!" Her feet slapped audibly against the granite floor as she stomped to the cellar door.

"You'd better be down there!" she threatened, trotting down the serpentine stairs.

"Come out!" she demanded. "You ask for me to come to you, yet you forbid me from being here. You sneak into my room and leave me strung out like a junkie... and trust me, I know what that feels like!" Her hands hastily pushed open the door, kicking it closed behind her. "You don't even have the decency to come when I need you!"

"You shouldn't have come here," he protested in a throaty growl.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Bullshit!" she shrieked bitterly.

"You seem to quite enjoy that word. I must say, I have often struggled with its use."

"Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!" she screamed.

"You really should consider expanding your repertoire of expletives, that word has become quite cloying," he cooed playfully.

"Come out, stop toying with me. Either come out now or leave me the hell alone."

"Have it your way." He was beside her within the blink of an eye. She felt her hair sweep across her neck and the intoxicating feel of his hot breath against her flesh. "Satisfied?"

"Yes." She nodded distractedly. At least he wasn't pulling that invisibility shit again.

"You really should go now," he purred, tracing his finger down her neck.

"I'd rather not," she gulped.

"Suit yourself."

A confident hand crept the length of her thigh and with a swift jerk he pulled her from the floor, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. Thick streams of her auburn hair whipped across her face as they flew across the room at a speed beyond reason. 

He spilled her into the chair, hooking her legs inside its notched armrest and wrenching her hips to its edge, painfully splaying her legs. Joelle's hips screamed under the pressure, struggling against the strain for a modicum of relief.

"Do you still wish to stay?" he demanded, seeming to revel in her fear.

She nodded slowly, their eyes locked in an unbreakable stare. "I do."

"Then you leave me no choice."

The delicacy with which he rolled her nightgown beyond her waist was in stark contrast to the violent force which had brought her to rest before him. His touch was soothing and she felt her back relax, relieving some of the excruciating pressure from her hips.

His fingers teased around the edges of her vulva, drawing soft deliberate circles against her flesh. A rush of blood filled her loins and her eyes closed as she enjoyed the taunting pleasure.

A wisp of hair tickled her thigh as his tongue traced the edges of her clitoris in soft, hypnotic circles. The tightness of her muscles began to lax as he playfully toyed and tugged at it with his teeth, bearing down for just a moment to assert control.

Lucien didn't bother with delicate introductions this time, opting instead to give her what she'd come for, urgent release. He pierced her perfect flesh with four savage fingers, slamming them as deep as they would go, as he worked her clit with the tongue she so desperately desired.

There was a momentary squeal of discomfort, her muscles tightening around him, but within a tick she was grinding her hips, matching his every thrust.

Joelle's hips hitched against the force of his fingers as the heat inside her grew. Her eyes locked on his as she bore down against his hand, shuttering from orgasm. And as she held his gaze, a beautifully cool smile swept his face, acknowledging the absolute power he had over that moment.

Lucien swirled his fingers, collecting the fluids locked deep inside her walls, quickly pulling free his hand when she finally released.

He immersed his sodden fingers one by one, deep inside his mouth, rejoiced in her flavor.

His eyes returned to her face, studying her expression as beads of sweat rolled down her delicate cheeks. What, he wondered, was the payoff for her? Certainly his skills were beyond compare, but he knew with that pleasure came a level of pain, a gnawing ache, as some described it. Yet she never uttered a complaining word and seemed to enjoy their forays as much as he.

Lucien was suddenly overcome with an absolutely unfamiliar desire and pulled her from the throne he had shared with no one else. Desperately he sought her mouth, eager to indulge in its sweetness. He had not kissed a woman in more time than he could accurately measure. They never required that level of attention and thus he found it unwarranted. But regardless of that fact, he wanted to taste her mouth.

Joelle twined her tongue with his, delighting in the earthy flavor of his mouth and the essence of sex still lingering there. But the more fervent her response, the more he seemed to pull away.

Lucien had no want to release her tongue, yet the intensity of her kiss signaled a dangerous desire. Propriety dictated restraint and he gently pulled free of her insistent lips, collapsing to the chair in agitated defeat.

"Please, don't leave me like this again," she pleaded, tearing open the button of his gabardine slacks and quickly working to liberate his body.

"You need to stop this now," he insisted. Yet he made no move to thwart her efforts as she wedged herself between his legs and dropped to her knees.

Joelle eagerly rolled her tongue the length of his exceptional shaft, reveling in its massive girth. It was more spectacular than she'd imagined, and she'd imagined quite a bit. She felt his powerful hands weave through the soft strands of her hair as her mouth played around the head of his cock.

Her eyes lock on his as her tongue traced the beautiful lines of its thick head, skimming around the edges and delighting in its taste. He was sweet, strangely sweet, but in a natural, yummy kind of way.

The flavor piqued her arousal and her tongue's response was immediate. She worked to taste it all, cupping her tongue around his corona and working her lips to its very base where her mouth locked against his massive girth. 

Her mouth planted firmly against the taut flesh at the base of his cock, swirling her tongue around his most sensitive spot until he groaned. Joelle's eyes stayed trained on his, delighting in her new-found power over him, aroused by his own arousal. His jaw clenched as he watched her mouth draw into a smile, inviting him in.

Satisfied he was the appropriate level of aroused, she let her tongue drift in broad, deliberate strokes across his shaft as she traversed her way up.

Joelle teased her mouth around the ridges of his glans, rolling her tongue underneath, fluttering it against its tender little spot. He was ready now and her mouth moved to take him.

But when her lips parted, engulfing the first few glorious inches of his shaft, he pulled her abruptly to her feet.

"But... I..." she stammered, feeling more than slightly offended.

She was good at giving head, screw that, she was an absolute pro at giving head. If there were awards for giving head, she'd have rows of stocked, sagging shelves. Damn it, she was the MVP in the Blowjob Super Bowl!

"No!" she barked, dropping back to her knees.

Joelle worked quickly to glide her mouth around his exquisite erection, rolling her tongue along his monumental length as she rocked her head to allow him deeper.

Her arms locked tightly around his back, sinking her nails into his flesh as he worked feebly to pry her from between his legs.

When she felt the head of his cock slam the back of her throat she coaxed him farther, tilting her head back to engulf him fully. Her tongue reached the base in advance of her lips, taunting her, and she responded, swallowing hard against its head, forcing him deep inside her throat. She held his entire length, flattening her tongue to plant him there, as her mouth sucked at the very base of his cock.

Joelle moved her tongue and mouth in contraposition, keeping him locked between her lips in a firm embrace, as she relentlessly worked the base of his cock.

It was the absolute power move and no man could resist.

Lucien groaned as she skillfully contained his entire length, but with the boundless ecstasy came the beast he struggled to contain.

Under veils of sun-kissed, auburn hair, his fingers found the contours of her jaw and broke her hold. As much as he wanted to plunge back in, he gently teased himself away from her spectacular mouth.

"Why?" she muttered. "You didn't like it?"

"Turn around," he demanded, his hands trembling against her back. What he needed, was a moment of calm, a moment to sequester the beast which lingered dangerously close to the surface. He needed her to be still.

She complied without complaint or question and felt the steely grasp of his hands around her hips, pulling her closer.

With a sudden jerk she was on his lap. The unmistakable feel of his cock nestled between her thighs, sent a chill of excitement up her spine.

Joelle arched her back as its massive head came to rest against her labia. 

She kissed and nibbled at his neck, but he evaded her persistent advances, pushing her away as he studied the ceiling.

"Please Joelle, I need to take you back to your room now," his voice caught as he struggled to contain what roared from within.

"Why?" She leaned back against his chest, her mouth seeking his again.

"We cannot be together like that," he growled viciously.

"Then how? Tell me," she pleaded.

He refused to answer, leaving her no other option than to persist on her current course. She felt the head of his cock pierce her lips and rolled her hips in response, slowly working him in.

"Please Joelle... you have no idea what you're doing," he growled.

He groaned as she slid him deeper, the walls of her pussy fully swallowing his head. She swirled her hips, feeding his entire length inside her loins, gasping when she reached the base. With a few painful thrusts she found her rhythm, feeling him glide more easily now. But as she relaxed against him, enjoying the magnificence of his cock, something changed.

It felt as if it were growing, thickening, if that were even possible. She slowed to a painful crawl as its massive girth became excruciating, its extended length now painfully entrenched within her faltering walls.

Lucien began to thrust his pelvis against her ass, his arms constricting around her hips, forcing himself deeper. She screamed as his swelling girth painfully spread her beyond the realm of feasibility.

Joelle struggled to adjust, but her squirming only heightened his arousal and was met with a more insistent grasp about her waist. Sharp pains tore and ripped through her body, like a vivisection of flesh, as his dismantling force cleaved away at her very core.

He bore down on her hips with violent intensity, slamming deeper, and her muscles roared in pain as they struggled to accommodate his excessive size. The pain intensified with the urgency of his thrusts, each new wave quickly replaced by another. Joelle arched her back in an effort to broaden her hips, her head tilting against his firm chest as she sought his face with pleading eyes.

"Look away!" he commanded sharply as he plunged himself deeper. 

Her head snapped forward instantly, seeming to lock in place.

Lucien's hands snaked between her heaving breasts, to her shoulders, seeking more leverage. He laced his fingers against the soft flesh at the nape of her neck, bearing down with all his force, impaling her with the fullness of his shaft. It had to hurt, the pain must have been beyond excruciating.

And as she swallowed him whole, slamming against his pelvis, the most blood curdling scream he'd ever heard exploded from her mouth. But there was no putting the monster back in its cage, once released it could not be tamed or tempered.

Lucien was far from done. He could fuck her like that for hours. He would fuck her like that for hours. It had been more than a millennium since he'd been inside a woman, killing them seemed such a tragedy, he much preferred to keep them alive. So was resigned to tease what little life they could spare from between their legs, satisfied with the tiny morsels they provided.

Joelle was a meal which could last him a month, but he had no urge to kill her. Instead, he would let the beast bring her to the very edges of death before refilling her with a small piece of her sacrifice.

With severe force, Lucien forced her head between her knees, opening her wider, impaling her more deeply, hurting her even more and yet unable to stop. She quickly became a doll between his hands, pliable, malleable, susceptible, and as much as it pained him, the beast was far beyond concern.

Viciously he twisted her body to face his, drawing her legs around his waist as her back arched against his knees, her hands falling to the floor. His eyes fixed on the perfection of her pussy as he slammed himself inside and when a trickle of blood escaped her, he quickly captured it between his fingers and let it spill into his mouth.

Joelle lay limp in his arms for hours as he ravaged her body. The world, now upside down, left her with nothing more than a dull, buzzing hum in her ears as the blood filled her brain. She'd become detached, stranded in a bizarre state of suspended animation, exiled to an alternate state of consciousness.

A hazy film covered her eyes, blurring the edges of the room until all that remained was darkness and everything ceased to exist.

The last thing she remembered was a booming roar between her breasts, the gnashing of teeth against her shoulder and a flood of molten heat inside her loins.

    *   *   *

Mornings were usually the worst part of the day, but this morning was different, this morning required no prodding alarm clock or insistent knocking on her door. Instead, Joelle awoke to an all consuming ache coursing through her body and an agonizing pain between her legs.

She drew a hot bath and peeled the nightgown over her head, her muscles screaming their protests with every move.

"Oh my God," she wailed as she glanced herself in the mirror. The bruising was remarkable, like nothing she'd ever seen before and, as she tilted her leg to inspect her blackening hip, she noticed the blood.

"I'm broken," she whimpered as she delicately drew her finger across the throbbing flesh between her legs.

Even with the soothing heat of the bath, she was beyond salvage. Joelle decided to forgo breakfast in an effort to heal her battered body, but by lunch she found herself still unable to move. By the time dinner rolled around there seemed little point in even trying.

"Jo?" Annette's voice called from outside her closed door.

Ah Annette, Joelle thought, lovely Annette. How on earth would she explain this? After everything Annette had done for her, she went and disobeyed one of the few rules of the center: no going into the cellar. It took almost a year of Annette's insistent begging to get her into rehab and Joelle went and fucked it up before she'd even reached the program's halfway point.

"Come in," she offered cheerfully, attempting to conceal her agony.




The Cellar Ch. 01



"We didn't see you at lunch today... or dinner. Actually, we didn't see you at group either. Are you feeling alright?"

Joelle tried to take the focus off her pain by centering it on Annette. She was a pretty woman, not stunning, certainly not unattractive, simply pretty. Thin laugh lines courted the edges of her mouth, a feathering of creases played against her eyes and Joelle assumed she hovered near forty. Clearly she works out a lot, Joelle noted, eyeing her toned figure.

The distraction wasn't working though and the pain gnawed at her like a feral beast.

"I'm just a little fried, I think I'm still detoxing a little," Joelle offered.

Annette sat at the edge of the bed, causing the mattress to bend, sending a tsunami of pain through every ounce of muscle in her trembling body.

"You're in pain," Annette assessed as she examined Joelle's agonized expression.

"Nope," she blurted as the air burst from her lungs, "everything's good."

"Your stomach?" Annette asked, nodding to Joelle's arms, locked tightly around her waist.

"I just slammed into a table, stupid me, I've always been clumsy," she forced a smile.

"Let me see." Annette peeled back the covers.

"Really, I'm fine," Joelle protested.

"Jo, please, I'd rather not call in Doctor Briggs if I don't have to, but one way or another, one of us is taking a peek," Annette insisted.

"Fine," she huffed. Joelle delicately pulled the nightie to her waist, gingerly rolling the hem past her ribs.

"Oh my," Annette gasped, gawking at the expanse of angry purple flesh. "I'm getting the nurse, you'll need to stay in medical tonight, I'll page Briggs when I get back to my office."

"Really, that's not necessary," she protested.

"It most certainly is necessary." Annette rose quickly from the bed and stormed out without another word.

    *   *   *

Lucien paced the length of his sanctuary, vacillating between raging anger and punishing remorse. Who was this woman? Certainly he had desired her, even demanded her, but she was now turning his very perfect world into a complete nightmare. How ridiculous, he thought, to be consumed by someone so inconsequential.

The clattering of feet pulled him from his internal ranting and he focused on their sound, the distraction providing a moment of much needed relief. The footfalls seemed familiar yet he knew they were not Joelle's, hers he would recognize from beyond the gates of hell. It took but a moment longer to discern their host, the scent of their owner hitting him long before the voice.

"Lucien!" Annette screeched as she barged into his den.

"Annette, always a pleasure." He nodded genteelly.

"Don't fuck with me Lucien, screwing her was not part of the deal."

"My apologies, I was not aware it would offend you so greatly. But in my defense, we never discussed 'screwing'."

"It was never discussed because I was led to believe, by your own admission, that it wasn't possible," she shrieked.

Lucien winced from the unpleasantness of her tone. "I believe the words I used were 'ill advised'."

Annette scoffed. "You just couldn't keep your hands off her could you?" You'd think after all this time you'd be impervious to that kind of mindless desire. Thank goodness her mother's a drunk, otherwise I'd have one hell of a time explaining why she's going to be in medical for the next few days!"

"Medical?" He cocked his brow.

"Briggs said he'd never seen bruising like that before, you tore that girl apart. Touch her again and you'll wish you were back in hell, are we clear?"

"Crystal." Lucien smiled. "And her name is Joelle, I would prefer you refer to her as such."

"Shit head!" Annette stormed out in much the same manner she stormed in, leaving a swirling wake of unpleasantness behind.

"It's going to take forever to air out this room," he growled.

Lucien roamed the grounds, looking for a distraction, waiting for Annette's car to leave before he went to see Joelle. When it was finally gone he pushed purposefully into the medical suite, nodded once at a napping orderly, and slipped into Joelle's bed.

"You're injured," Lucien's soothing voice nudged her awake. "Let me see," he whispered, lightly tugging at the hem of her nightgown.

"Please don't touch me," she quavered, her face twisted in pain.

"I do not intend to hurt you," he asserted.

"Again," she countered.

"Again," he sighed, "Now, let me see."

With a painful tilt of her hips, Joelle carefully worked the gown past her waist, exposing the purple striations against her pale skin.

With his fingertips, he delicately traced the edges of the expanding bruises. "I should never have yielded to you, please... forgive me."

He had never before begged forgiveness and his mind could not reconcile this divergence from his true nature. What troubled him more was his absolute desire to be ingratiated into the world of this strange creature. She was a near constant distraction and now that he'd tasted her, he found all others unsavory.

For a moment he considered killing her, that would easily resolve the quandary, yet his chest ached at the mere notion. How strange, he thought, promptly brushing it off.

"You won by the way," she whimpered.

"Won?" he asked quizzically.

"You definitely terrified me."

"That is hardly consolatory and certainly not a game I wished to win."

"It wasn't meant as a jab," she offered. "Will you stay with me tonight? The heat of your skin soothes my aches."

"There is nothing like a little well deserved guilt to woo a demon," he chortled. "Allow me to soothe your aches."

Lucien gently kissed the embossed reminders of his finger, emblazoned along the fine skin of her waist, and travelled the luxurious curve of her hip. Her scent was hypnotic and he found himself lingering below her navel. The redolence of pain and pleasure swirled like the bouquet of fine wine from between her silky thighs. He nestled his cheek in the well of her abdomen as his fingers traced along the escarpment of her most delicate flesh.

Her essence called to him, begging to be plucked, offering itself in unfettered sacrifice. She had no idea her power over him, his absolute desire to be sated only by her.

His finger gently caressed the splendor of her furrows as he thought of her taste, his tongue remembering the hypnotic ambrosia lingering deep inside.

So easily she spread for him despite the agonizing pain he knew to dwell between her walls. Tonight he would be delicate, careful with her. Tonight he would soothe her ache while satisfying his own.

The heat of his breath against her raw, swollen skin brought such relief Joelle found herself shifting her hips, allowing him better advantage of her flesh.

His tongue, at first of wave of agonizing pain, travelled in soft delicate coils around the folds of her lips, strangely comforting the raging flesh beneath.

The first waves of spasm tore through her in violent eruptions, releasing a deluge of the elixir he so desperately craved.

He groaned as he relished the potion that flowed from her and she trembled from the painful delight of having fulfilled him.

Her hips bore down against his tongue, eager to feel his soothing warmth inside her, more eager to provide what he so clearly desired. It seemed a bizarre reaction to want someone who had so painfully scarred her. Yet, when he was beside her, she could think of nothing but the taste of his skin and the feel of his flesh.

Joelle pulled the pillow across her face, biting down against the seam as his lips locked firmly in place, plunging his tongue deeper still as he sucked the remnants of nectar which lingered deep inside.

His mouth stay seated there, tethered to her, until the twitching in her abdomen ceased and her breathing softened. But as soon as he released, a surge of pain roared through her body and her muscles tensed to the point of convulsion.

Despite his desire to leave her, guilt took over, flooding what meager conscience he possessed, and he felt compelled to comfort her. For the first time in his entire existence, he chose to remain.

Lucien tucked her into his chest and wrapped himself around her in a warm embrace. She whinged for a moment but fell quickly asleep and he watched captivated for hours, as she breathed.

Feeling guilt for her was uncomfortable. So he determined that, under no circumstances, would Joelle hurt again, if only for the selfish reason of sparing himself more grief.

As the first act of this new vow, he would not touch her for reasons other than comfort, until she had fully mended.

Lucien visited every night and to Joelle's absolute surprise, he came for no other reason than to lay with her. Only after the bruises and aches had faded completely, did he visit her again with passionate eyes.



The Cellar Ch. 02



The gaiety with which Annette danced through Joelle's open door was unsettling, to say the very least.

"Happy news!" Annette chirped, throwing open Joelle's closet door. "I found you a permanent residence down on Atlantic."

"I thought I was going into sober living next week?" she muttered, unable to share in Annette's enthusiasm. 

"Change of plans," Annette tweeted, "pack up, we leave in an hour."

Joelle's mind was immediately consumed by Lucien. They had broached the topic of her leaving, but only peripherally. Though he had made no commitment to see her once she'd gone, it was her hope that with some encouragement, and a little teasing, he might agree. At the very least, she thought she would have a week to work on him.

"Alright," she sighed as Annette pranced from the room.

Never before had Joelle packed so quickly, not even when an angry pimp named Shade had threatened to burn her alive. But with great urgency she flooded her suitcases and tossed them recklessly into the hall.

At blinding speed she raced to the cellar. Throwing open every door and exploring every crevice, she called his name with mounting desperation. But never did he answer.

So, in agonizing defeat, she fell wasted to the cold cellar floor, a stinging pain consuming her chest.

It was an odd sensation. Certainly their times together were phenomenal, and she looked forward to his nightly visits, but never once had she lost sight of who he was. Regardless of his charm and startling intellect, and despite his staggering good looks and obvious talents, he was nonetheless demon and that didn't exactly make for great boyfriend material.

However, as she hefted her suitcases into Annette's trunk, it was impossible to ignore the feelings of loss. And as The Center disappeared from sight, she wondered whether their paths might cross again.

***

The apartment was appalling. It not only reeked of urine and stale beer, but it had the largest population of cockroaches Joelle had ever seen.

"Do they need to be walked or are they housebroken?" she asked, nodding to a sink full of wriggling bodies.

"I know it's not much, but with a little love and some paint, you can make it what you choose," Annette's voice sang, its melodic tone more cheerful than any Joelle had ever experienced.

"Yeah, sure, I can totally see that." Joelle shrugged, cringing internally.

Paint wasn't going to do a damn thing, other than add another layer of funk to the room. Besides, what required her immediate attention were the gaggles of roaches hosting a kegger on the television stand.

It took three days and six cans of Raid to get the little bastards under control, but regardless of the minor improvements, every night she found herself lumped in a ball on the floor.

Lucien was a near constant thought and an ever-present desire. On more than one occasion, Joelle had awoken to find her fingers wedged deep inside her longing walls, dreaming they were his. The thought of his mouth and the sweetness of his tongue kept her up at night.

Twice she had tried to go back to The Center in the hopes of finding Lucien, but both times she had been driven off by the evening supervisor.

"Stupid, jerk," she grumbled, tucking herself in against the sofa. "Got me strung out like a fucking junkie – again."

It was becoming clear that she would have to find a way to be okay with the thing left unsaid and unfinished between them. So she held her head high, flicked a roach from her shoe, and resolved that tomorrow would be a better day.

With feigned enthusiasm, Joelle applied for any job she came across, but found it more than a little difficult to explain the span of time between high school and twenty one. It occurred to her that writing "prostitute" in the space provided for previous employment, was probably not the best idea, so she just left it blank. Needless to say, nobody ever called for an interview.

And so, with a burdened heart, she resumed her battle against the proliferation of pests, worked her twelve-step program and did her best to mold a new life from the pile of shit she had been handed.

But on the morning of the eighth day, life changed again.

"You left," the beautifully deep voice called from beyond her closed door.

Dropping the dustpan, Joelle rushed to open the door and when her eyes met Lucien's wonderful face, she forgot to breathe.

In daylight he was even more stunning. His eyes shone brilliant emerald in the refracted light that spilled from the clouded windows; the perfection of his physique was accentuated by the custom tailored, button-down shirt that clung to his broad chest; glints of sunlight illuminated the wisps of his hair, and they shone like the delicate feathers of a raven's wing. He was beautiful.

"Did I not treat you well?" Lucien asked, sounding mildly offended.

Though she struggled desperately to maintain her composure, she failed miserably and bounced through the door, launching like a monkey into his arms.

It took less than a second to find his mouth, the taste and feel of it more spectacular than she had remembered. And as her legs constricted around his waist, his strong hands cupped her ass while returning her kiss with equal zeal.

With the first intake of breathe since she'd opened the door, she gasped. "You treated me very well."

But as his mouth drifted down her neck and between the V of her shirt, her breath was quickly stolen again.

"Were you aware there is now a Sharon in your bed?" he spat, letting her slide gently to the floor. "She is most annoying."

"Perhaps you caught her off guard," Joelle tittered, unable to pry her hands from his neck.

"Perhaps," he conceded. "So had you intended to say goodbye?"

"Annette only gave me an hour's notice. I did try though."

"Annette – I see," he growled, "so is this where you now reside?"

His eyes swept the dusty cavities of cracked drywall and forgotten wallpaper, stopping briefly to inspect the dustpan filled with tiny brown, exoskeletal corpses.

"Hey, don't hate on the new digs," she grumbled, "it's all I have."

Lucien shook his head in disgust.

A sickly fug permeated the room, wiping away her lovely scent and leaving behind a repulsive fetor, which clung like sap to her skin. It stole from his tongue the lingering taste of her mouth. It was no surprise why Annette had moved her there, it had been nearly impossible to find Joelle through the stench.

"My apologies for taking so long to find you, I could barely smell you through the corruption of this place," with a curl of his lip, he snarled.

Softly she kissed his neck and whispered, "apology accepted."

"Come," he coaxed, grasping her hand, "I won't have you stay here a moment longer."

Lucien could not bear to release her hand; there was something hypnotic about her skin. The scent drove him wild and the mere touch of it made his mouth water.

Feeling her warmth also provided a perfect distraction from the torturous twisting of his insides. The night belonged to him, but the daylight was under the control of someone else, and that someone did not take kindly to the violation of rules.

So it was with great haste that they drove toward the safety of his home, each snaking road growing darker under the thickening canopy of trees and each twist and turn providing another modicum of relief.

Joelle looked on in awe as the tiny dirt road they'd been travelling for miles, finally spit them out into an oasis of lush meadow, nestled deep in the bosom of aboriginal forest. In its midst, seemingly out of place for the geography and era, but nonetheless spectacular, appeared a plantation-style manor.

But before she had an opportunity to truly admire it, the car had come to a stop and Joelle was wrapped in Lucien's arms, with the world flying past in kaleidoscope of colors.

Within seconds she found herself spilled upon his bed as his hands worked feverishly to undress her. His mouth, hungry and wild, twining with hers.

"Oh!" Joelle gasped, as his fingers thrust inside her.

The intensity of his assault on her delicate flesh was a little shocking. It seemed as though he was intent on pounding all the way to her throat. Yet there was something delicious about the pain and within moments of finding him inside her, she felt her muscles clench tightly around his fingers as a deluge of orgasm flooded her loins.

"Just a little something to tide me over," he cooed in her ear as her body twisted against his hand.

Lucien pulled her mangled body to the edge of the bed and slipped between her legs, relieving her ache with the splendor of his mouth. And she graciously provided what he sought, a snack.

"That's it? You make me cum and then you disappear?" she said breathlessly as he tossed her his robe.

"I am afraid so, the daylight is not exactly my ally. I must retire for now, but I will see you again this evening and we will finish this properly," he purred, once again slipping his fingers inside her pleading walls.

"Feel free to explore, there are no secrets here," he whispered, leaving behind the warm traces of his mouth against her forehead.

***

Joelle trotted down the imperial staircase which lunated the foyer, stopping to admire the wrought iron chandelier which dripped from the vaulted ceiling. It was a beautiful home, perhaps a little austere for her tastes, but nonetheless remarkable.

With intense curiosity, she explored Lucien's home for hours, peeking in every room, toying with the electronics and examining his extensive collection of books. Her fingers withdrew a hefty tome of Latin writings and perused at length, the depictions of angels and demons, heaven and hell.

But during her time amongst his things, never once did she open a single drawer or cabinet. Though he had said there were no secrets, she much preferred to hear about his life from him, as opposed to unveiling it for herself.

When the last wisps of sunlight slipped behind the mountains, a shroud of darkness quickly consumed its remaining essence, leaving her feeling very much alone. After a few tense minutes in his library, Joelle found herself fleeing to Lucien's room and immersing herself in the safety of his scent.

"I thought we had agreed you would sleep naked?" Lucien roused her from sleep, pulling his robe from her enchanting body.

"I was scared," she muttered.

"Scared?" he asked, "of what?"

It was an odd thing to feel under the circumstances. Joelle should have run screaming from his home that morning, yet there she was, wrapped in his robe and seeking comfort in his bed.

"It's creepy outside. There's no light and nothing but the sound of owls – it's scary," her body shuddered as she mewled, "I'm a city girl."

Unable to contain his amusement, he folded in boisterous laughter.

"Let me see if I understand you correctly," he guffawed, "you have spent three months entertaining a servant of Lucifer in your bed; you offer yourself to him without reservation, and at the slightest provocation; you walk willingly into his home, yet the sounds of an owl frighten you?"

"Well when you put it that way it just sounds stupid!" she snapped.

"It's not stupid," he chortled, but when he leaned in to kiss her scowling mouth, he was sharply rebuffed. "Silly maybe, but never stupid," he corrected.

"Silly?" angrily she retorted.

Lucien wedged his hips between her clenched thighs and kissed along the gentle curves of her neck.

"I am heartily sorry," he soothed, rolling his tongue around the delicate slope of her breast.

"Never did I intend to offend you," he lulled, nibbling at the flesh of her hip.

"Will you forgive me?" tenderly he prodded as his mouth traced soft, floating circles around the concave of her abdomen.

When she failed to respond, he knew she was far too distracted to remember why she had been so angry. Good, he wasn't about to let some foolish little quarrel get in the way of their delectation, it had been more than a week since he had enjoyed her properly.

"Oh fuck," Joelle gasped, "Lucien!" From his breath alone, her pelvis twitched. 

Shit, how on earth could he do that? Not so much as a whisper of his skin had touched her flesh and it was already screaming.

"Please," she pleaded.

"Open your eyes Joelle," he commanded, "I prefer you to watch."

It had never even occurred to her to watch, but it was an appealing suggestion, and her eyes sprung open at the temptation of this new idea.

"Very good," he purred, "now spread your legs for me."

"They are," she noted breathlessly.

"Farther," he coaxed.

Joelle slid her hands down her thighs, hooking them behind her knees and wrenching them farther apart. Eagerly she sought his eyes, beseeching his acceptance and praying that she had pleased him.

"Joelle – I have asked you to comply, quite nicely I might add," his voice thickened as his eyes narrowed, extinguishing the emerald from his irises. "Now spread your fucking legs," he growled.

Without a complaining word, she slavishly nodded and pushed hard against her knees, proffering herself to him.

"That will never do," he sighed. With a quick thrust of his palms, he pinned her knees against the mattress, spreading her to the point of pain. "There, that is so much better. I trust you can see?"

Unable to produce words, and quivering from the ache in her hips, she merely nodded, completely turned on.

"Good. Now how perfect is that?" he asked, weaving his fingers between the cleavage of her vulva while his breath blew warm tickling kisses against the perfection of her skin. "Did you miss me?"

"Uh huh," she gulped, still unable to conjugate a verb.

With his fingertips, he drummed against her most delicate of flesh, playing upon her skin with the skill of a concert pianist. A flash of his tongue incited a spasm, which spread like a spider web of lightning through her pelvis.

Lucien watched in delight as she twitched riotously from the mere roll of his tongue. Joelle was in the perfect state to test the boundaries of rapture and tonight, he had in store for her a very special surprise.

Again his breath blew hot against her trembling flesh and when she bit her lip in anticipation of his tongue, his finger struck her pleading clit like a whip.

"Ouch!" she yowled.

"Joelle, shush," coolly he reprimanded.

Again and again he flicked her throbbing flesh, occasionally drawing back and offering an especially hard thwack.

The shock of stinging thrashes enraged her flesh and flushed her labia a hostile shade of pink. When her clit neared crimson, he snaked his taunting tongue across it and glided a soothing finger between her tingling lips.

It seemed he was content to repeat this process indefinitely, delighting in her twisted expression and the absolute agony he was causing.

Though it was clear he had no desire to do her harm, there was something about her torment that seemed to tickle him in the most peculiar way.

"Please Lucien," she squealed, "I can't take anymore!"

But Lucien persisted, filling her with prickly pain and soothing her with the warmth of his mouth. In agonizing ecstasy her body responded with a sudden rush of orgasm, the intensity peaking when his mouth moved to consume her.

When the fluttering in her pelvis dissipated, her eyes fixed on his fingers as he worked her clit between them, bearing down until she yelped. Only at that point, did he reward her submission with the full splendor of his mouth.

Joelle craned her neck as his tongue swept lazily across her clit, occasionally teasing and tugging it between his lips.

"Oh, fuck!" she screamed as he nipped her swollen flesh.

A soft chuckle escaped his throat as his wicked eyes locked on her.

The undulations of pleasure and pain were terrifyingly delightful, never before had such agony caused such delicious reward.

Transfixed, she stared as he delicately teased his fingers inside her, one by one. Together they worked in slow, probing circles around the edges of her labia.

When her back relaxed from the pleasure of his touch, he slammed them home, sending waves of spasm through her core. Joelle screamed as he hooked his fingers against her g-spot, toiling deep inside, as his mouth ravaged her clit.

A tilt of her hips afforded a clearer view of his glorious tongue, as it worked at fevered pitch to bring her to orgasm. Just the visual alone was enough to make her cum. Lucien had a magnificent mouth and she stared in amazement as her abdomen shuddered from its touch.

The muscles in her pelvis tightened as she bore down against him, unable to control the looming ecstasy that percolated her loins. She tore his hand from her hip and pressed it firmly against her pelvis, pushing with every ounce of force to reproduce the sensation she had felt on their first night together.

With a gleaming smile in his eyes, Lucien pressed hard against her pelvis, unifying his hands and doubling their potency.

"Shit!" she screamed as she worked her hips in sync with his hands, his tongue swirling, lush and plump, around her pulsing clit. "Fuck!" she roared, arching her back as a wave of orgasm claimed her body.

Heavier still, he pressed against her abdomen, intent on draining every last ounce of pleasure, prepared to take her beyond any point they had ever reached before.

Drawing her clit deep into his mouth, he strummed it with tickling, vibrating strokes. His tongue palpitated against her flesh while his fingers played against her g-spot, heightening its sensitivity by manipulating her pelvis with the powerful force of his hand.

With a thrust of her hip she pressed hard against his mouth and, as if to reprimand her impetuous act, his teeth offered another painful nip and then withdrew from her completely.

"No, no, no! Please Lucien, no!" she wailed as he left her to linger on the edge of orgasm. Desperate to relieve her ache, she clawed at his shoulders, pleading with him to return.

"Behave yourself," he scolded.

"I will, please, I promise," she blurted, as she watched his finger drift tauntingly around the cleft of her throbbing labia.

After a few teasing minutes, Lucien unleashed the full fury of his arsenal and with blinding force, he returned to her. An explosive moan roared from her lungs as spasm consumed her core in an eruption of orgasm. In rapid succession they tore through her loins, first one and then another, a third and then a forth, until finally it was too much.

"Please," she choked through the raging storm of rapture, "stop, I can't take anymore!"

Not content to release her and knowing she was on the verge of collapse, he strummed her clit with renewed vigor. Pushing harder against her pelvis, he rolled his fingers against her most sensitive spot. With a whimper, Joelle fell limp against the bed and her eyes rolled back as she succumbed yet again.

Watching Joelle squirm was beyond delightful. There was such pleasure to be had in seeing her ecstasy. Never before had Lucien bore witness to this level of fevered excitement.

The vision of her lovely body, bending and twisting from his every touch was a memory he would bear the rest of his days. And he could not help but smile when violently she arched her back, driving hard against his hand as she screamed again.

Lucien enjoyed the rewards of her pleasure for hours. It appeared as though their time apart had only served to bolster her arousal and provide a veritable bottomless pit of orgasm. Perhaps they should take these breaks more often, he thought.

It was a fleeting idea, the notion of her being in his bed and refraining from her delectableness, was absurd. And the concept of her not being in his bed at all, was even more ludicrous.

Though he allowed her the appropriate lengths and intervals of time to replenish her stores – going so far as to provide her a midnight snack, which was yet another first for him – by the time the first touches of light curled across the eastern mountaintops, she was completely spent.




The Cellar Ch. 02



"I will see you again at dusk," Lucien whispered against her neck.

"Lucien, why did you come for me?"

"You surprise me, and I have never been surprised," he said haltingly.

"What about me could possibly surprise someone like you?"

Lucien sat beside her and watched as twists of pink and orange tickled the edges of the mountains. In just a moment, the darkness which lingered in the western sky would be driven away by the battle cry of golden sun. When that moment came, it would burn, and yet he would remain, holding her hand.

"Never have I shared myself with anyone. But I am now doing that – with you." Lucien dropped his head and rubbed his eyes, unable to fully grasp the meaning of his words.

Wrapping a sheet around her body, she climbed into his lap. "Kiss me?"

Lucien's mouth met hers, warm and hungry. But he had no hunger for anything more than the gentle touches of her soul and the warmth of emotion she exuded when he shared her mouth.

Joelle gave of herself willingly and without reservation, and seemed to expect nothing in return. She offered to him the pieces of herself that he was not empowered to take and the pieces for which he had not the strength to ask. And what surprised him most, was how good that felt.

"Dusk," he said as he lay her against the pillows.

"Dusk," she confirmed and blew him a kiss.

***

For hours Joelle had been pestering him, constantly asking why he was upset. The problem was, he couldn't provide a reason for this newfound chagrin. So Lucien simply sat in the chaise and stared at her as she lay across his bed, dressed only in his robe, as he tried to reconcile why that troubled him so deeply.

"Read to me," she whispered, pulling from the nightstand the ancient tome she'd found amidst his stocked shelves of obscure literature.

With a deep sigh, he crossed the room and pulled the book from her hand.

"It's in Latin," he noted coldly, "would you like for me to translate?"

"No, I want you to read it as it's written," she pleaded, grasping his hand and pulling him toward her.

Lucien slipped into bed and lay beside her, keeping ample distance between them.

"Do you know Latin?" he asked, cocking his brow.

"No, but I think it's kind of sexy that you do," she whispered and tucked herself against his body as he opened the book.

Hearing him read Latin was an aphrodisiac. Though she had no idea what he was saying, just the concept that he did was reason enough to get excited. 

When Lucien reached the illustrated section, he held open the book for her and described in painstaking detail, the variations and roles in the sects of demons and angels.

Lucien peeked at her snuggled body as he continued to pour through the text, which was written during an epoch of religious persecution in Europe. It had been secreted away by a Protestant priest and fell into Lucien's possession during the exodus to America some time later.

Years had passed since last he had read its words, and something about sharing them with Joelle brought them back to life. Though she had no idea their meaning, they spoke to a time – not unlike the one he was sharing with her – that marked a turning point in his existence.

It seemed odd she should choose that particular book; it was what brought him there, to a land a wealth and opportunity; a land of unexplored lust and desire, free from the oppressive tyranny of kings.

"Cuius regio, eius religio," Lucien muttered as he closed the book and wove his fingers through Joelle's lovely mane of auburn hair.

"What's that?" she asked sweetly, kissing his chest.

"It means that it was time to leave Europe," he chuckled, knowing she would have no idea to what he was referring.

"Tell me where you've been."

"Everywhere," he replied truthfully. There didn't seem to a speck of land on this crazy earth he hadn't walked at one time or another. "And nowhere," he added, "before you."

Lucien watched her face brighten as she interpreted the meaning of his words; thankfully she spared him the discomfort of doing so out loud.

"How long have you been here?"

"Anno Domini," he sighed before he could catch himself.

"More than two thousand years," she gasped. "What has that been like?"

"Boring," he chortled while rolling her lovely body atop his. "So entertain me." As the warmth of her skin enveloped his, all of his earlier agitation simply melted away.

Lucien watched her intently as she pulled open the buttons on his shirt, taking her time to reveal his skin. It was as if she were unwrapping a delicious gift, wanting desperately to see it, yet eager to prolong the moment.

Joelle peeled the fabric from his chest as she kissed her way to the buckle of his belt. Gingerly she unfastened it and undid the closure on his pants, wriggling them down his legs. The robe fell away from her thighs as she straddled his knees, revealing her clit, like the delicate bud of a flower, nestled between the pink bloom of her lips.

Joelle bit her lip as she stared at his perfect cock; it was amazing to look at, even when it wasn't hard. With her fingertip she traced the delicate blue vein that ran its length, her body tingling when she reached its protrusive head.

Though she had sort of promised not to seduce him, Lucien wasn't really clear about the specifics. So tonight, she thought she might test the waters again and see how far she could get, before being rebuffed. 

Clearly the intercourse kinks hadn't been worked out, though she still held out hope, but perhaps there were other things they could indulge in, without riling the beast.

Kissing didn't seem to be crossing the line; she had carte blanche when it came to that. Licking was also acceptable, though she hadn't gone beyond his waist since that fateful night.

So she threw caution to the wind and raveningly kissed him, drawing his tongue into her mouth and sucking it. Playfully she bit and licked his lips until she felt him stiffen against her thigh. 

She moved her tongue down his neck, sucking gently on his ear as she raked her nails through his hair. Sliding her body against his, she tasted the firm flesh of his broad chest and the deliciousness of his shoulder.

Joelle's tongue travelled the rigid lines of his abdomen, tracing the taut, sinuous muscle beneath his exquisite skin. As she tenderly nibbled at his hip, she let her hair fall against his sides, tickling and teasing his flesh.

She was desperate to taste his cock, honey sweet, in her mouth. Since last she'd tasted it, her desperation for it had grown. It was a massive feat, taking in his colossal size, and even though she was a pro at giving head, his was far larger than any she'd encountered in her three years in the trade.

That first night, Lucien had clogged her mouth, but with persistent coaxing and a willing throat, and even more saliva, she'd managed most of it quite expertly. And she was eager for another go.

So when her cheek brushed against his erection, she moved her mouth to it. With her tongue, she rolled serpentine, fluttering strokes around its thick head and titillated its plump base with her fingertips.

"Joelle," he grumbled as his body tensed.

When he reached for her arms, she pulled away, and tucked them beneath his legs. Parting her lips, she took his spectacular cock into her mouth.

Her tongue snaked around the length of his massive shaft as she twisted her mouth in an inverse motion, begging him deeper.

"Joelle, please," he groaned as she drew her glorious mouth farther down his cock.

It took every ounce of focus to keep the beast locked inside the cage. She had no idea what she was doing to him and yet he felt powerless to stop her. Aside from being inside of her, her mouth was the greatest pleasure he'd ever experienced.

Certainly he loved her taste and could spend an eternity wrapped between her legs, delighting in the seemingly endless spoils of orgasm. But her other talents were beyond compare.

He had spent more time than he cared to remember, disengaging from the desire of being with women. Instead, he focused on what he needed from them and honed his skills accordingly. But with Joelle there were no steely defenses, with Joelle, he had no control.

Lucien wove his fingers through her hair as she rocked him deeper into her mouth. This time, when he hit the back of her throat, he made no move stop her. Instead, she felt him tilt his hips and push deeper. 

"Joelle," he muttered, "don't." With a tremendous exhale of breath he groaned. "Stop."

Was that, stop? Or don't stop? Ultimately it didn't matter; she had no intention of stopping.

Feeling more confident, Joelle drew her hands to his hips and moved with him, matching her rhythm to his and taking every inch of what he would give her.

Suddenly the bed moved and, through the darkness, his hands quickly found her hips. With a sharp tug, she was nestled against his stomach. A low rumble filled his chest as he grabbed her hair and pushed himself deep inside her willing mouth.

Joelle responded with equal vigor. Her tongue pressed hard against his shaft, cupping around its girth, forming and reforming itself, molding to its throbbing flesh, melding with its perfect shape.

Lucien's hands pressed more firmly against her head, pushing her farther, thrusting his hips to pierce the back of her throat. 

Swallowing hard against the thick head of his cock, she enticed him deeper still. Her mouth locked around him, almost taking him whole, letting him take control as he pumped his dick between her lips. Within a tick he had impaled her throat, yet she was still shy of having him fully.

A guttural growl filled his throat as the pitch of his rhythm increased. Hungrily, her mouth bore down against his pulsing, corpulent dick, matching his pace and intensity with every stroke, until he was on the verge or release.

There was only one way to feel him breach her fully and she was eager to try.

Joelle scrambled off his heaving body and rolled onto the bed, resting her head over the side.

"Fuck my mouth," she insisted.

"What?" Lucien asked, seeming dazed by her words and the change in course.

"Fuck my mouth," hastily she repeated, "quickly, do it!"

Lucien rolled from the bed and loomed over her pleading mouth, resting the head of his cock against her parted lips.

"Put your hand around my throat and squeeze gently," she directed and immediately wrapped her lips around him, drawing him in.

With her arms outstretched above her head, Joelle planted her hands around his hips, begging him to oblige her request. It took some coaxing, but Lucien finally gave into sensation and wrapped his hand delicately around her throat. Within a few tentative strokes he sunk himself fully into her mouth, spilling down the back of her throat.

He held himself there and released a thunderous roar as she sucked hard against the plump base of his tremulous cock.

Lucien couldn't move, he was within a breath of exploding, and unlike her cunt, there was no room for expansion in her throat. The beast hungered for carnality and he was a hair's breadth from losing control.

A few moments of steady breathing brought him back and, once again, he was free to avail himself of Joelle's generous talents. His hand squeezed gently against her throat as he slipped the other beneath her neck, tipping back her head. Slowly he withdrew from her wreathed lips, and with revived intensity, plunged back in.

Her tongue cupped firmly around the bottom of his shaft, delighting it with tickling kisses as he drove deep into her mouth. Beneath his fingers he could feel himself glide down her open throat. What a strange and glorious sensation, to experience such pleasure from inside and outside her body.

Lucien felt her nails digging into his hips as she forced his rhythm to increase. It took no more than that for him to comply and he slammed his dick inside, fucking her mouth, just as she had asked him to.

With a guttural groan he pounded his cock inside her, feeling her tongue flick over its head every time he withdrew. Firmly she held his girth as he worked inside her tender mouth, taking his time to enjoy the rapturous feel of her lips and tongue, working together to bring him to orgasm.

With a violent roar he thrust again, impaling her throat with his pulsing flesh.

His fingers dug deep into the skin of her neck as he held her there, mouth completely full with his glorious shaft, feeling it spasm inside her. The warm threads of his sperm spilled down her throat and pooled in her cheeks. Wave after delicious wave, he unloaded his seed, only withdrawing completely when he had wasted his stores.

Joelle let it linger in her mouth, the taste of him was sublime and she didn't want to part with it.

When finally his body relaxed, Lucien untangled from her hair and collapsed against the bed, pulling her beside him. Joelle swallowed what she had held captive in her mouth, though its taste still lingered heavy on her tongue.

"It was sweet," she whispered as she snuggled against his chest.

"What was?" he asked, his voice a little shaken.

"You were. Like honey." That's exactly what he tasted like, honey.

"Joelle, if I weren't so peacefully calm – if I hadn't been so absolutely sated by you last night – that would have ended badly. But it was nonetheless amazing."

***

The cellular Annette had given him, rang incessantly. Lucien could hardly understand her need to keep the leash so tightly bound around his neck. It seemed impertinent and unwise to shackle a creature which had no fear of death. But their arrangement had given her a false sense of power, and it was entirely his fault for not correcting that sooner.

With a deep sign and a roll of his eyes, he pressed the green button on the phone, and readied himself for the unpleasantness of her voice. "Yes Annette?"

"Is Jo there?" she blurted without preamble, "she's not at her apartment."

"No Annette. Joelle," he snarled, "is not here."

"Well then where is she?" angrily she demanded.

"Hooking? Scoring? Take your pick," he countered, the intensity of his rage building.

"She'd better not be there Lucien and you had better not forget your promise to me," she uttered in a guttural growl.

With his fist, Lucien stifled the laugh that emerged when he imagined her scrunched, twisted face. It was the first twinkle of levity since he'd answered the phone and he was glad for the distraction.

"I have not forgotten Annette, I am bound by my word and you will have what you seek, though I would ask that you reconsider. Eternity is a long time."

"No," firmly she denied, "and as for the girls, consider Jo your last until you've fulfilled your end of the agreement. For now, take your throne of death, your gateway to hell, your stupid portal to the ninth circle of hell and seal the room!"

"Ah, hyperboles, how I do love them so. I particularly enjoy the ninth circle of hell metaphor; that has always been one of my personal favorites."

"Oh fuck off Lucien, just do it."

"Consider it done," Lucien confirmed.

"And Lucien, you and I will be speaking again, very soon."

"I do so look forward to that Annette," curtly he replied.

Angrily, he slammed the phone into his desk drawer and rushed upstairs, flinging open the door to his bedroom.

Lucien stormed across the room and grasped Joelle's ankles, jerking her to the edge of the bed. "Kiss me immediately!" he demanded.

There was something about Annette that drove him to the brink of utter mayhem and he needed the tenderness of Joelle's touch to squelch the rage.

"Oh," she stammered, "I..."

Lucien came down hard against her body and, with the air forced from her lungs and the ferocity of his mouth, he stole the words from her lips.

She tried to return his kiss, but his mouth was feral and chaotic, leaving her with a bitten lip and a confused tongue.

With a quick yank of the fabric, Joelle was stripped of his robe and lay naked between his legs. Under normal circumstances, that would be a good thing, but tonight it was kind of scary.

Lucien's erection press firmly against the inside of her thigh and within seconds he had torn the pants from his waist.

"Lucien," she soothed, "what's the matter?"

With a twist of his lip he growled, "I need you to be quiet."

Joelle peeked between her legs at his angry cock as it lay menacingly across her hip. While it was beautiful, it didn't seem to be staring back at her with the same adoration. It seemed to be seeking to claim her again and the thought of that made her shudder.

"Lucien?" she quavered, wondering who she was talking to, man or beast.

With a tentative step back, he rested the head of his dick between the pink blossom of her lips and locked eyes with her.

He merely stood there, his turgid cock nestled gently between her swollen lips, steeped in the fluids of her arousal, while a tense dance of hesitation and desire played across his face.

But moments later, his expression hardened as the decision was cast. Without pause, she felt a surge of tremulous pain as he launched his attack. Within a breath, he was thrusting his full length inside her tight pussy. It was a feeling she was not prepared for and she felt her body shake from the influx of pain.

"Lucien!" she gasped, feeling him prying her open from the inside. 

But there was no response, only dead eyes staring back at her.

Within a few impaling thrusts, the flow of her fluids alleviated the frictional pain, allowing her the pleasure of his thick shaft. The feel of him was amazing and terrifying. She knew that at any moment things could take a dangerous turn, but the sensation of his shaft working inside her, was beyond glorious.

With the slant of her hip she felt him more fully. The shape and textures of his cock, more pronounced. Lucien was a perfect fit, a fusion of pleasure and pain.

The head of dick drove deep inside, pounding against her cervix and strumming against her undulating walls, heightening her arousal.

A rock of her pelvis led him to the places she wanted him to go, enhancing the sensation of him stroking inside her.

"Stop that," he snarled, jerking her hard against his hips.

Her mouth, wide and open, sought his, pulling tight against him when she felt his breath. Desperately she tasted his mouth, lollipop-rolling her tongue around his, sweet and warm, like candy. The arch of her back brought her breasts to his skin, her nipples, taut and alive, played against his chest as he moved against her.

"Fuck me," she gasped. 

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled him deeper. "Make me cum Lucien, fuck me and make me cum."

"Shut up Joelle!" he lambasted.

"No," she panted, "fuck me."

Lucien's hands slid beneath her ass, yanking her hips from the bed, broadening her pelvis as her thighs fell away.

Immediately, a surge of orgasm rocked her abdomen and flooded through her entire body, twisting her back.

"Harder!" she demanded, as his cock pounded inside her.

"Joelle!" he roared, "shut up!"

Unable to fully register his words, Joelle hooked her heels in the small of his back and met his thrusts with equal force, slamming them together with unparalleled ferocity. As she ground and thrust her hips against him, another explosion of orgasm coursed through her loins.

"Oh fuck!" she screamed, her nails digging deep into his shoulders as she struggled to reclaim her breath.

A carnal roared burst from his lungs and with a slap of his hand, the lamp was on the floor, shattered into pieces and coating them in darkness. At that moment, his intensity grew.

Joelle's fear skyrocketed as the pleasure plummeted into oblivion, replaced by piercing pain. Within seconds she could feel him changing. His skin blazed with searing heat, his cock grew beyond sustainability and the form of his body began to transmute into something unfamiliar. Though she couldn't see, the visual she'd conjured in her mind was enough to terrify her to tears.




The Cellar Ch. 02



"Please!" she yowled as his expanded girth tore at her walls. "You're hurting me! Please stop! Lucien!"

His response was immediate and the carnage mounted. Screaming was obviously the wrong tactic. With all the force she could muster, Joelle wrapped around his body and offered the tender caress of her hand against his cheek.

"Lucien," she whispered, her voice soothing and tranquil, "please stop."

Within an instant Lucien withdrew and collapsed against her body, everything seeming to return to its normal state within the span of a few labored breaths.

"My apologies," he muttered as pulled from the bed, leaving her trembling and afraid as yanked open the door.

For a moment, he stood staring at her as the light from the hallway spilled across the room, and then he rushed, crestfallen, down the hall.

***

Lucien roared as he paced the cellar in his home, finally slumping into his chair. After endless hours of deliberation the decision was made.

There could never be anything between them. He should never have allowed Joelle to believe that there could. Generally, he didn't concern himself with the trivialities of right and wrong. Not until they infiltrated his existence, and that's precisely what Joelle had done, infiltrated.

That was it, it was time to end the charade. Joelle had to go and she could never return. They each needed to resume the lives they were intended to have, separately. 

For the last several months he had completely shirked off all obligations to dabble in the world of a strange creature he could neither have, nor care for.

Whatever his feelings, whatever his desires, he could not be bound to her and he could offer to her no semblance of a future.

Joelle sat alone in his bedroom and wondered whether or not Lucien would be a no-show. Since their minor "bump" the previous evening, she had neither seen nor heard from him. Certainly he was there, no doubt lurking about in the bowels of the house. In all likelihood he was engaged in some internal war. So she would wait and hope that when he returned all would be forgotten.

At a quarter past one, there was a knock at the door and Joelle scrambled across the bed, pulled off his robe and slid naked beneath the sheets.

"Come in!" she hollered, cocking her head as she realized how odd it was to be welcoming someone into their own room.

She watched as Lucien crossed the room and came to a stop, just feet from the bed. His face was a twisted mass of painful conflict and she knew that whatever came from his mouth, would be agonizing.

"Get dressed," he demanded coldly.

"Why? What's going on?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"Just get dressed, I will meet you at the car. You have five minutes."

Joelle saw the absolute resolve in his face; it was present in the deadness of his eyes and the tightness of his jaw.

She gathered her things, pulled on her clothes and met him at the car.

"Where are we going," she inquired faintly.

"Get in the car Joelle," angrily he commanded.

No sooner had the door closed behind her, than Lucien was peeling from the driveway, his eyes focused on the road.

They sat in silence as Lucien sped down the interstate toward the city. She had tried to talk to him but it only resulted in loud barks and painful words. 

Nervously she rolled and unrolled the hem of her shorts, pleading silently for a change in direction.

"No, Lucien. Please, no," she begged as they pulled onto the exit, five blocks from her apartment.

But her beseeching words only hastened his speed and by the time the car skidded to a stop outside her apartment building, he was seething.

"You say you never had a chance to say goodbye, I am now giving you that opportunity," he yelled, with a voice as sharp as the blade of sword.

"No. I don't understand, Lucien – I don't understand. What did I do?" desperately she implored him to answer.

"Nothing. I no longer desire you," he said dispassionately.

Lucien watched as tears pooled in her blue eyes, liquefying them, before charging over her lashes and claiming her cheeks. It twisted his gut and produced a stabbing pain in his head he could not temper.

"You don't mean that," she squeaked as her heart jackknifed inside her chest.

"Get out of the car Joelle!" he roared.

"But I..."

"Now Joelle, get out of the fucking car!" Lucien reached across the seat and shoved open her door, revving the engine and turning on the radio as she stared back at him with broken eyes.

"Can't you tell me why?" she pleaded.

"Because you're a junkie fucking whore!"

When her voice came, it was a mere shadow of a whisper, "okay." 

Joelle pulled the bag from between her feet and unbuckled her belt. She hesitated for just a moment, seeking his eyes for some sign of reversion or doubt, but his expression remained fixed in agitation.

Joelle slipped her hand into her pocketbook and withdrew a small leather box, nervously rolling it between her hands.

"My dad used to have this shiny gold watch. I loved it, and when I was little he used to let me play with it for hours, never concerned that I might break it..."

Forcefully, Lucien interrupted, "I don't care to hear your sob story Joelle, get out of the fucking car!"

"Before he died he gave it to me, he said he had it engraved, but I've never been able to look. Anyway, I want you to have it," her voice trembled through maudlin tears.

"I don't wish to have it," he snapped.

"I know." Joelle opened the glove compartment and slipped the box inside, closing it gently.

"Why then?" he demanded.

Joelle slid from the car and closed the door, turning to rest her arm on the sill of the open window. With a rub of her hands, she wiped the tears from her eyes and offered him a genuine smile. "Because you saved my life."



** I will attempt to post Chapter Three within the week. Thank you to all who have read and enjoyed the continuing saga of Joelle and Lucien. **



The Cellar Ch. 03



For two weeks, the silly little black box Joelle had deposited inside his glove compartment, had tortured him. So tonight, he resolved to have done with the situation, once and for all. After pulling it from the car, he returned to the house and gently tugged the antique watch from its burgundy, velvet lined coffer. But when he popped open the cover and read her father's words, he collapsed to the stairs.

"To my Joelle, forever you changed the beat of my heart," he hissed as his fingers traced the inscription. It had been a mistake to read it; he knew that before he even opened the ridiculous little trinket.

"Fuck!" he roared. Snapping closed the lid, he slammed his fist against the cinereous marble. A long fissure, like a crooked smile, snaked across its glossy skin in taunting recognition of his wretchedness.

Within moments, the engine of his vintage Mach One roared to life. This time, as opposed to visiting his local haunts and choosing a target, his destination was unclear. This time, without thinking, he found himself on the interstate, driving at a speed unrivaled even in the world of Indy.

***

Daddy's Gentleman's Club was reliably packed that Saturday night. It was hectic beyond compare. The scuffed, graphite vinyl floor was clogged with a sea of sweaty drunkards and dirty old men. A few surly frat boys peppered the room, grabbing and fondling anything with tits. With a deep sigh and crumpled shoulders, Joelle fell into her chair. 

"There's no way I'm getting through that without someone tweaking a nipple," she grumbled.

After brushing out her unwieldy crimson wig, she pulled from her bag a tiny bejeweled g-string and matching top that accentuated the fullness of her breasts. It was her favorite ensemble and a sure money maker. Eager to get the night over with, she dressed quickly and applied a coat of Berry Cherry lipstick.

"You have a dance in room two," Daddy announced as he yanked her from the dressing table.

"Ouch," she griped, rubbing her arm, "violence is never the answer."

Joelle was still massaging her bicep when she pushed through the curtain to the suite of private rooms at the rear of club. She had acquired a few regulars, customers who appreciated her particular blend of talents and she trotted in, expecting to greet one of their eager faces, happy for the extra cash she'd make.

When she saw Lucien sitting comfortably on the couch, with a devious smile adorning his face, her heart stopped. Instantly, a wave of rigidity consumed her, as though she were dipped in cement and left to cure.

As always, he was impeccably dressed. Tonight he had shed the more formal button down shirt and wool gabardine slacks, for the more casual look of a thin, charcoal sweater and tan linen pants. Lucien was GQ's wet dream, and sometimes, like tonight, she hated that about him.

Despite the tingling in her loins and the dampness in her thong, the ache returned to her chest and a newly discovered anger consumed her thoughts. Turning tail, Joelle stomped to bar.

"I'm not doing it! Give him his money back Daddy, I won't dance for him!" she yelled, jabbing her thumb in the direction of her tormentor.

Without glancing from his liquor order, Daddy icily replied. "We don't give refunds."

"Then I quit!" she yapped.

"You're doing the dance first. He paid, you play," he threatened.

Pulling a wad of cash from her top, Joelle stormed back into the room. "I won't dance for you," she hissed as she threw the money onto his lap, "there's your cash back."

Lucien casually thumbed through the bills and offered a quizzical stare. "You're five hundred short I'm afraid," smugly he retorted.

"What?" she spat incredulously.

"Your math skills are appalling, I paid six for you."

"What the fuck did you pay six hundred dollars for?"

"An uninterrupted hour," Lucien said offhandedly.

"You're a shit, Lucien," she snarled.

"That may be, but I fail to see the relevance."

"One dance! But you don't get to talk or do that voodoo thing on me again."

Without pause, Lucien nodded once and slipped his fingers across his mouth, as if closing a zipper.

"Spread your legs for me," she demanded. Kneeling at Lucien's feet, Joelle clenched her hands around his knees, deeply sinking her nails into the soft threads of his linen pants, feeling his skin buckle underneath.

He smiled and shook his head, spreading his legs.

"Lucien, spread your fucking legs for me," she jeered.

With a slight chuckle he spread them wider, inviting her to make the next move, and she gladly obliged. Joelle ran her hands the length of his thighs, snaking her body between his legs, stopping when his cock was nestled between her breasts. With a shake, she felt it twitch.

Satisfied he was appropriately turned on, her hands travelled to his strong chest and around his neck. She pulled herself onto his lap and straddled his waist. Unsnapping the clasp between her breasts, she let the shimmering fabric fall to the floor.

Hitching her hips, Joelle ground against his ever-hardening cock. "You like that?" she purred just inches from him lips, taunting him with the possibility of her mouth.

Lucien smiled wickedly in return while threading his fingers up her back.

"No touching," derisively she whispered in his ear.

"You failed to mention touching."

"Your reading skills are appalling," she mocked, nodding to the large "no touching" sign on the wall.

"Very good Joelle, you were paying attention. But I never gave my word that I wouldn't touch you."

"No touching!" she snapped.

"Certainly," he assented.

With a fiendish smile, Joelle peeked between her legs and saw his hard shaft tenting his pants. She ran her hand over his dick, offered it a tight squeeze and flicked it back out.

Sliding her body along his, she let her breasts and abdomen graze his mouth as she stood before him. Straddling his face, she pulled tight her thong to reveal the cleavage of her lips, letting his mouth come within an inch of what he desired.

"No touching," she admonished as his fingertips tickled up her thighs.

Without regard for her words, Lucien hooked his hands behind her knees and tugged, collapsing her to his lap. Quickly, his hands locked around her lovely jaw and drew her lips to his. The game play was over for the evening and they were going home.

A war of desires consumed Joelle's mouth, lust versus wrath, two deadly sins battling for supremacy and, for a moment, he wondered which would claim victory. But when her eyes closed, he knew that lust had won.

Despite herself, she submitted to desire and found her mouth open and willing, inviting him in. Tangled now in her hair, he pulled harder, enveloping her lips. Soft and luscious, his tongue rolled against hers, filling her mouth with the taste of honey. 

Hungrily she consumed him, drawing in every ounce of his flavor, tasting him all the way to her soul; delighting in the boundless passion he exuded. Lucien was the summit of euphoria and despite her anger, she sought even more.

Her mouth still entwined with his, Joelle felt the soft caress of fabric engulf her naked skin. With a sudden jerk Lucien was standing, his potent hands holding firmly to her thighs as he resolutely pushed through the curtain.

"Hey jerk-off, no touching the girls!" Daddy roared as they passed the bar.

For the first time since he had claimed it, Lucien released her mouth. "My girlfriend wishes to leave. You would be wise to refrain from uttering another word about it!" Lucien snarled.

In desperation she sought his mouth again, crushing her lips against his more fervently than before. Something about the absolute command in his voice drove her crazy and she captured his gaze as she drew his tongue deep into her mouth. 

Hurriedly he pushed through the doors, glaring at the brawny bouncer who stood sentry just outside. As he took a step forward, Joelle offered a flick of her hand, shooing him away.

Lucien spilled her gently across the hood of his car, peeling away his jacket to reveal her quivering body. Joelle felt the tear of fabric from her hips and a cool breeze against the moist furrows of her now exposed labia. Delicately his fingers probed her, curling inside and capturing the first pools of her essence, as his mouth consumed her nipple.

The taste of her skin inflamed his desire and Lucien was now desperate to be inside her. With a violent jerk against her hips, Joelle was straddling his ready cock as he struggled to free his insistent flesh.

"We're in a parking lot!" she blurted, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable.

"I am aware of that," Lucien purred before sheathing her other nipple in the warmth of his mouth.

"No," she heaved, pulling free from his lips, "take me home, I can't do this." Abandoned and wreathed in the remnants of his tongue, her nipples perked brazenly in the damp chill of spring air.

"Joelle..."

"No," tersely she interrupted, "take me home."

Once again, feeling desperately humiliated, the anger resurfaced and all passion faded into the ether. The tide had turned and, despite his beguiling words and velvet voice, there would be no dissolution of her anger, at least not tonight.

When Lucien pulled to the curb beside her apartment building, Joelle sprang from her seat and up the steps. Eager to get her near naked body indoors and her eyes off him, she rushed into her apartment.

"Go away!" she rebuked, as he slammed the apartment door behind them.

"I'm afraid not, you are still wearing my jacket."

Hastily, Joelle pulled free from his entrancing scent and hurled his jacket across the room. "There! Now go away!"

"You look beautiful," assuredly he noted.

She did look beautiful, standing there in the cool air of the apartment with her nipples perked and ripe; ripples of goose bumps flowed like water across her delicious skin. Strong and self-assured, she made no effort to conceal herself. That was yet another thing he missed about Joelle, she wore her skin proudly and defiantly, like a cloak of confidence.

"You're an ass!" she hissed, her foot tapping wildly against the floor, jiggling her voluptuous breasts. "Get out!"

The vision was enough to make him chuckle, but under the circumstances, he refrained. "I think I would prefer stay," he sighed, plopping down onto her tattered futon, "I like what you've done with the place; it has a certain -- je ne sais quoi."

"What do you want Lucien?" exasperatedly she groaned.

"You."

"Why would you want a junkie fucking whore like me?"

"You are not a junkie fucking whore Joelle," he repealed, "I have injured you, and for that I am heartily sorry."

After pulling a t-shirt from the drawer, and quickly over her head, Joelle opened the door and offered a reticent stare. "Good night Lucien."

Reluctantly he rose from the futon and tugged from his jacket pocket, her leather box of memories, tossing it gently onto the bed.

Immediately snatching it up, she angrily shoved it back into his pocket. "I gave that to you, it wasn't bait to get you to come back, I wanted you to have it," coldly she rebuked.

"Why?" he asked, still perplexed as to her motivation to give away something so precious to her.

"Because in my life I haven't had many people do nice things for me, and I would venture to guess you've had even fewer. I wanted you to know what that felt like, no strings attached."

"Thank you," he muttered as his hand slipped into his pocket and found the little box, rolling his fingers across its leather skin. "Good night Joelle."

***

Regardless of how many times he had knocked on her door, he always seemed to find it being slammed in his face. That left him with only one option, trickery. Certainly it was an underhanded thing to do, but since Joelle had refused to speak with him, she had given him no other choice. So, after she collected her mail that evening, Lucien abandoned his physical form and slipped behind her, through her apartment door.

At eight o'clock, right on cue, Joelle turned on the shower and, while waiting for it to warm, brushed her teeth. He watched as she pulled the ratty t-shirt over her head, revealing the curves of her body, and slipped into the shower.

Though distorted by the filmy plastic between them, she looked lovely, coated in glistening water and slathered with soap. Her high sculpted cheekbones and pouty, full lips, delicately embraced by a thin sheen of steam as the water coursed through her thick auburn hair. When she closed her sapphire eyes to wash her face, he made his move. Pulling back the curtain, he slipped inside and leaned against the wall, watching her unobstructed.

Joelle jumped when she felt something tickling her back. "Fucking roaches!" she squealed, hopping around in an attempt to locate her assailant.

Content that it was merely her imagination and heightened sensitivity to all things six-legged, she resumed her face scrubbing ritual. But when it happened again, another creature came to mind.

"You fucker!" she shrieked, waving a shampoo bottle through the air. "Get out shithead!" Another tickle across her thighs confirmed her suspicions. "Lucien, I'm not kidding, get out!"

The unmistakable heat of his body pressed against hers. She would know him anywhere, visible or not. His body fit flawlessly against hers, as if they were made one another.

Stupid, unpredictable demon, she thought absentmindedly. Catching her in her most vulnerable state was a dirty tactic, even for him.

When his hands traced her thighs, she knew it was over. Within seconds, just as she had expected them to be, Joelle found her legs wrapped around his waist. Only this time, he seemed intent on a more forbidden activity.

And as if to confirm her suspicions, he finally spoke. "Not until we have finished what we started."

As he leaned her against the russet tiled wall, Lucien felt the head of his cock pierce her moist flesh. It had taken two weeks of moderately successful practice to get to that moment. Though he affirmed in his mind that they would never cross paths again, there was a piece of him that knew they would. When that day came, he wanted to be ready. Aside from his eternal penitence, this was what she had been asking for and he had been striving to find the balance within himself.

"I hate you," she gasped.

"I truly wish you did."

As his cock cleaved her flesh, Joelle felt her hips respond with no direction from her mind. Moving in slow circles, she let him glide around the edges, allowing the turgid head of his dick to slide tenderly between her smoldering, parted lips.

"Let me see you," she whispered, unable to find her breath.

With pearls of water rolling down his golden skin, he appeared. Plump droplets fell from the tips of his hair, rolling down his chest and between their bodies. Quickly Joelle wrapped her arms around his neck and conquered his mouth.

A deluge of water cascaded between them, spilling across their lips and heightening the sensation of his mouth. And the feel of his skin, slick and warm beneath her hands, fueled her desire to taste him. 

Unable to wait any longer, Lucien slid her gently down the head of his cock, and with a soft pop, her tight walls pulled him in. He tasted the moan in her mouth, a tickle of vibration and urgency. More than anything he wanted to slam himself inside, to feel her warmth surround him, and the rush of stimulation surge through her body; but for now he would be tender.

Silently Joelle pleaded with him to prolong the moment, wanting to bask in it, wanting to feel every mouthwatering inch. It couldn't be rushed, she needed it to linger, his beautiful, infernal cock, she wanted it inch by fucking glorious inch.

Slowly he penetrated, peeling back her throbbing lips, savoring the feeling as she welcomed him in. Lucien wanted to explore her slowly as he reached the very depths of her core. He wanted to feel her envelop him, every ounce of her flesh, beyond her walls and straight into the very center of her being.

Tucking her head between her arms, she watched the magic unfolding between her legs. Losing herself in the sensation, she closed her eyes, reveling in the pleasure of him. The contours and curves of his cock, every single ripple of its muscle, filled her slowly.

Control vanished into the ether and there was no way to temper her hunger. Joelle's mind had spun into an alternate state and all that remained were their two bodies, blazing molten heat against each other. Suddenly, and without warning, she needed desperately to feel his fullness inside her.

"Harder Lucien," she gushed, "I know you want to."

Moving his arms beneath her thighs, he spread her wider; opening her fully. There was one hesitant stroke and then a moment of pause. With unleashed, carnal desire, he bore into her. His cock conquered her walls like a feral animal, ruthless and unstoppable, viciously claiming her and demanding to be inside.

Joelle screamed, as agonizing bliss coursed and rolled through her in a tidal wave of orgasm. Thrusting her hips against the cantilever of his arms, she took in his remaining lengths, only to slide him out and drive him back in again. Losing herself in the voluptuousness of his turgid cock and enslaved by sublime stimulation, Joelle locked her arms around his neck and surrendered, letting him take complete control.

"Fuck me," she demanded as she rolled her hips, eager to feel the full thrusting of his pounding dick. 

"I'll hurt you," he growled in her ear.

"I know," she muttered, proffering herself to him and welcoming the full glory of his massive size.

Lucien's thrusting was frenzied, his cock was excruciating and magnificent, savage and severe, euphoric and delicious. Joelle was lost in the rhythm of it pumping inside her. It was beyond ecstasy; it transcended reason and swept her away to a place devoid of all concern.

Violently he kissed her mouth as he pummeled her walls, splaying her open, pulling at her core and spreading her wider, filling her again and again. There was no going back, Joelle consumed him, all of him, and she was now in control. The feel of her warmth and the tight tug of her cunt against his cock was beyond any ecstasy he had ever known.

"Fuck me harder!"

"Joelle... fuck," he snarled, "I... it will hurt."

"I don't care," she insisted breathlessly.

With a throaty growl Lucien pulled her hard against his hips as he thrashed inside her voracious cunt, seemingly eager to reach beyond its depths. And if it were possible, she would let his cock batter well beyond her walls. If there were more of him, she would gladly take it. She would take what he would give her, regardless the pain, to feel him inside her, fucking her ruthlessly, wasting and spoiling her forever. Joelle would give him that and take what was hers, all of him.

Joelle rocked and hitched her hips, opening herself wider as he plunged his dick as deep as she could bear. A roll of thunder roared through his chest as his intensity climbed. Slamming her back against the wall, Lucien knocked the air from her lungs as he worked to spread the flaming walls of her cunt even farther still.

"Oh," she grunted, "shit!" 

Her back ached as he worked her g-spot. Grinding her hips, she let him tickle her insides, feeling the head of his cock caress her spot. Lucien's shaft pushed and shoved against her walls, filling her loins with every inch. Desperate to climax again, she slammed her hips against his, feeling the delicious pain of his dick beating against her cervix, stretching her beyond the point of euphoria.

Screaming again, her body writhed and twitched in rapturous orgasm, finally collapsing her against his inflamed flesh. Pleasure and pain, Lucien was both of those things, in all manner of speaking. He soothed and tore, he ripped and mended, he was all things to every piece of her.




The Cellar Ch. 03



With a feral roar, he pushed deep inside her quivering walls, holding himself there while his flesh pulsed its scorching seed into her womb. In that moment he wished he could be bound to her, that he could give her what he held back for millenniums, but he couldn't, it simply wasn't fair. Promises had been to Annette, and Joelle deserved better than an eternity with him.

Lucien had no desire to release her, if they could linger there forever, consumed by one another, he would gladly make whatever sacrifices necessary. But when her body began to grow weak between his arms, he pulled himself free.

Wrapping her in towels, Lucien laid her decimated body on the bed and tenderly kissed her mouth. As he toweled off, she stared in awe at his body. Perhaps it was the glistening water on his skin or perhaps it was the lighting, whatever the reason, it felt as if she were seeing him for the first time.

The tight, lean muscles of his chest extended gracefully into the belts of sinew that defined his abdomen. The raw, powerful musculature of his arms melded seamlessly into imposing shoulders and a broad chest. The taut skin of his thighs wrapped tightly around the perfection of its thews, drawing the eye to the exceptional gift cradled between them.

"What did you take from me this time?" she asked, knowing that he fed on the pieces of her soul she no longer desired.

"Despair," he noted triumphantly.

"That was a pretty sneaky trick Lucien," she scolded. Certainly it was the best sex she'd ever had in her entire life, but it was still underhanded.

"Thank you," he chuckled.

"You called me your girlfriend," she asserted, pulling from the bed and wrapping herself in a towel.

"Yes, I seem to recall that," pleasantly he offered.

"Did you mean it?" Her eyes narrowing as she glared.

"Though I am not certain what that entails, I believe I do," he asserted.

"Oh." She rocked back on her heels, astonished by the revelation.

"Come back," he requested confidently.

"You hurt me. You don't do that to your girlfriend," she scolded.

"It won't happen again. Come back."

With a defeated sigh, Joelle finally relented and spoke four words that utterly stunned and confused Lucien. "I belong to you," she muttered.

A cock of his head solidified his state of puzzlement.

"Not as a possession or a plaything," she clarified, "You own a piece of me now, just as I own a piece of you."

Lucien wasn't certain how exactly she knew that, but it was certainly true. Joelle did own a piece of him now, but that fact would, in all likelihood prove disastrous for both of them. 

"I am so very sorry," anemically he offered.

***

Over the course of the week, an all consuming ache filled Joelle's body, coupled with a ravenous hunger that never seemed to wane. It was her intention to tell Lucien about it, but she was concerned that if he knew, he might find other methods to satiate himself. Though he'd told her there was no way she could sustain him, she still held out hope that she could. So she ignored the ache and hoped that it would simply go away. But it didn't, and she was beginning to feel sick.

"Eating again?" Lucien asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Eggs," she confirmed, "and you?"

"You," he purred as he slipped his hands beneath her skirt. After last night she must have been famished, but then again, so was he. With a swift tug, he freed her from the fabric and carried her to the kitchen table.

"They say that," she gasped as his fingers slipped inside.

"Yes?" He smiled as her eyes softly closed.

"Relationships..." she gasped again as his thumb rolled against her clit.

"What about them?" Lucien's smile broadened as her mouth flew open.

"That start with such... oh." Her body trembled as he reached her g-spot.

"With such what?" His tongue teased her nipples.

"In-ten-sity... oh, my god," she gushed.

"Trust me, he has nothing to do with this. Go on -- you left off at intensity," he purred, tickling her g-spot with his long fingers.

"Burn out quickly," she blurted as she bore down against his hand.

"Is that what they say?" He laid her back against the table and slid her hips over the edge. "And what do you say?" Lucien knelt between her legs and enjoyed the fruits of his labor.

"I... uhm... can't," she squealed as orgasm fibrillated her walls. There were no words left in her vocabulary, she seemed to have forgotten them all. The only thing that remained was Lucien's fingers buried deep inside and the feel of his mouth.

He watched with sinful pride as her body twitched and writhed against the table, succumbing to the final throes of orgasm. Even though he hadn't moved an inch, it took several minutes for her body to still. With a gentle stir of his fingers, her body shuddered again, fully releasing what sweetness still lingered inside.

"Make love to me," she mumbled.

"No more taking chances until I have a firm method of control."

"How long will that take?" she whined.

"Sadly, I have no answer to give."

Lucien watched as she ate her strange meal of eggs, it seemed an odd thing for someone to crave. If he actually ate, any food produced by the squatting of an animal would be repulsive.

"Lucien, what's the deal is with sex? Explain it to me."

"I enjoy it," offhandedly he replied.

"That's not what I meant," she chastened, "explain to me why it's such a big deal. Why does it change you?"

"I seem to struggle more than most I'm afraid, though I am not certain I understand the reason. I suspect it may have to do with balance."

"Balance?"

Now was the time for explanation. It was a question she'd asked often; was he the human embodiment of evil or something completely different. The truth, however, was far more difficult to define. So, with a great deal of thought and consideration, he attempted to explain his plight.

Though molded from flesh and bone, and given a heart, he was still bound to hell. Certainly he was demon, there was no question about that. The form, however, the suit that he had been given, was man. And as a torturous twist, he was endowed with the most basic of human elements, free will. Though in the service of Lucifer's army, and expected to perform certain tasks, the balance of his existence was governed by his own desires and he had been given quite a bit of latitude.

Even more disturbing, Lucien, and those of his ilk, was a patchwork quilt of Lucifer's favorite pieces. Yet every sin was countered by a smattering of virtue; just to keep things interesting. Envy and wrath, were tempered with a sprinkle of empathy. Gluttony and greed were diluted by self-restraint. Sloth was mollified by the ever-present motivation of hunger. Pride was subdued by servitude. And worst yet, emotion imprisoned by lust.

Endowed with the very conflicts of man, he was held captive by eternal turmoil. It was the devil's cruel trick, a veritable play on the duality of man. The only problem was, the balance wasn't always quite right and, in Lucien's case, he felt as though some tendencies were stronger than others. What's more, when the balance was way off, the inner beast was revealed.

"But what it is you're supposed to do?" she asked.

"I am merely an influencer, designed to sway those teetering on the razor's edge. In Lucifer's estimation, lust is the gateway into the land of depravity, though I'm not certain I agree. Wrath seems far more effective."

"So you offer them a nudge in the right direction. Isn't that cheating?"

"Joelle, I cannot turn a good man bad, nor can I corrupt those who are incorruptible. I also cannot take that which is not offered willingly. Man's free will casts the deciding vote and should they chose the darkness, I am merely there to provide the direction."

"So if free will casts the vote then why do you need to voodoo spell people?"

"Ah, that. It's a simple soothing mechanism and really has no bearing on what you will allow me to have. For instance, the night I first took you, I allowed you to succumb without fear or trepidation. However, I never removed your free will. You offered to me the pieces you chose."

"What did I give you?"

"Hope and despair, in equal parts. But the beauty of the human spirit is that you can recover them, should you truly desire."

"Why me?" she asked. "What was it that..."

"You were a perfect balance," he interrupted, "of sin and innocence. I was enamored with your essence."

"Did you sway me? Am I now on team Dark Lord?" she asked, not noticing any change in herself it seemed a reasonable question. If she was now one of the minions of doom, it was probably a good thing to know.

"No, though I stopped trying quite some time ago."

Lucien no longer desired her to change. The gifts of fear and despair she gave him were weights lifted from her soul; and on the odd occasion she offered hope or love, he reveled in those as well. He wanted Joelle to remain pristine and untouched by darkness. She was perfect, just as she was.

"Okay, so how do you deal with walking away every night without being -- satisfied?"

Shaking his head, Lucien laughed, "I presume you're implying that those trysts must leave me aroused, but you would be mistaken."

"But you seem aroused..."

"With you," he interrupted, "I am very aroused."

***

It was the rapturous feel of his tongue that enticed her awake. Her hips responded before she could connect the feelings in her brain and she found herself rolling her pelvis against the thrust of his fingers.

Lucien coaxed and prodded and drew the syrup from the rich well she so enthusiastically provided, draining her to completion and leaving her spent and wasted on the bed. She was the most delicious of treats, though he knew she could not sustain him much longer.

As the hours passed and his thirst persisted, he required more of her, yet the more voracious his hunger, the less she was able to provide. It was a frustrating and ultimately fruitless endeavor.

Every few hours the process would repeat, with necessary variation, though each sinking her deeper into darkness. He drank from her ravenously, sparing no method to entice that which he sought, the elixir, the potion, the essence of life.

A sickly pallor played against her skin and as he was about to relieve her of one last meal, her body trembled and she grew suddenly cold.

"Why did you not tell me you were ill?"

"I didn't want you to go," she squeaked.

"Joelle, you must tell me when I... when I'm killing you."

"Hmmm," she muttered, her eyes burdened with exhaustion.

"Sleep now," he whispered. He lay with her until the warmth returned to her skin, before retiring to the locked room inside the cellar.

***

"This will never do," Lucien grumbled from the open door of his bedroom. Joelle, a stunning vision, lay wrapped in moonlight, draped naked across his bed. She had been asleep for nearly sixteen hours, with no sign of waking. He had tried to rouse her, touching his mouth to her skin, tasting every inch of her body, but she barely stirred.

"No, this will absolutely never do." Lucien was hungry; no, he was starving. It was his greatest hope that she could sustain him. Since first he had fed upon her, he had longed for none other. Yet his requirements far exceeded her abilities. "Sleep lovely, I will see you anon."

Something stirred inside her head, a voice, a sound, it wasn't clear but it rang like bells against her ears. Joelle felt the bed around her, searching in vain for the warmth of his body. Though the sky was black, it was lit by the brilliance of a near-full moon and, as her eyes adjusted, she knew she was alone.

But the sound, she pondered, it hadn't been inside her head. For a moment she thought it had come from her own mouth. She strained to listen, shaking her head as she tried to expel the thoughts from her mind. However, there was no mistaking the sounds of pleasure, the sounds of sex.

The moans of ecstasy grew louder as she shuffled down the hall, drawing her toward the door at the opposite end. She lingered outside, uncertain whether or not she wanted to know, but unable to remain discontented.

Joelle's fingers trembled against the knob as she twisted slowly, gently pushing open the door as the latch released.

"Oh my god," she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. She stood, frozen, unable to pull her eyes from the scene playing out on the massive, canopied bed.

Cascading streams of onyx fabric trembled from the lattices, as not one, but two women enjoyed Lucien's gifts. Fervently his mouth worked between the legs of a shapely blonde, her back arched, allowing him unrestrained access to her very depths.

Joelle watched in horror as Lucien's spectacular fingers toyed diligently with the thin brunette. Her hips pitching against his knuckles as she worked to consume every inch, guttural groans pouring from her parted lips.

Was this what she looked like? Dazed and detached? A lust zombie? A stupid, mindless, orgasm machine?

The thrusting and rolling of hips was too much to bear and Joelle sprinted back to the sanity of his bedroom. His bedroom, silently she repeated, her mind wrapping around the words. This was his home, his bedroom, his life, or whatever it was, and she was the visitor.

There was never any denying what he was, he had been honest about that from the very beginning, maybe even too honest, reckless almost. Yet she accepted him for what he confessed to be and, even though there was a niggling doubt, she'd hoped to satisfy his needs.

She dove into bed, wrapping two pillows around her head, determined to drown out the sounds as she disseminated and distilled the information in her brain.

"Stupid! I am a total jackass," she mumbled into the pillow, "for fuck's sake, what on earth was I thinking? Shacking up with a demon? Who does that? Seriously, what kind of depraved moron does something like that?"

Joelle lay in suffocating stillness, barely able to breath, but taking no chance that she would catch wind of a moan. The irony of this scene was not lost on her and she was nine again, hiding from the sounds of her mother's screaming and the light which would inevitably pour into her room every night.

It had begun less than a year after her father's death. Her mother had married Carl, the man who was supposed to protect them and keep them safe; the same man who drained her spirit and robbed her of any chance of a life. And at sixteen, when she'd finally had enough, she was banished from the house after confiding in her mother. Ironically, it was at that memory the tears began.

Joelle shuddered as a spray of light illuminated the room, quickly snuffed by the closing of the door and the sound of Lucien's footsteps -- fifteen, as always -- to the foot of the bed. The roll of her hip, the shift of fabric beneath her, signaled his approach.

Lucien knew she was awake, he could tell by the absolute rigidity of her body, and it didn't take a genius to understand why she was smothering herself with pillows. Perhaps he should have warned her, it hadn't even occurred to him. Human emotion was something he'd never really connected with, until now.

"Joelle," he whispered, pulling the pillows from her face and moving to brush the hair from her stunning cheek.

"Don't you dare touch me with that hand!" she shrieked.

It was only after hearing the falsetto in her voice that he realized the depth of injury he had inadvertently inflicted. "Would you prefer the other?" he offered in a feeble attempt at levity. The look on her face, however, was far from amused. "My apologies, that was very insensitive of me."

"Fuck off."

"You're upset," he acknowledged.

"You're very perceptive for someone completely brain dead."

"Joelle, what would you have me do? Would you have me starve?"

"No! I understand that I'm technically a visitor here and that this is your home. I get that, and you have every right to do what you want in it, just as I have every right to find it intolerably repugnant. And furthermore, being a guest in your home does not give you the right to treat me however you see fit."

"I see," he offered, still working to digest her argument.

"Oh, fuck off. I should never have come here."

"I paid the rent through next month, you can have it all back if that is what you desire."

"I do," curtly she replied, crossing her arms in defiance.

"I hope you will reconsider. I am truly, abashedly, regretful for wounding you. Though I cannot deny my nature or my needs, I should have been more considerate of your own." Lucien fished from his pocket, the keys to his car and laid them gently beside her hand. "It's yours. Should you choose to leave, I will not stop you."

"How considerate of you!" she hissed. Joelle pulled his robe from the floor and grabbed the keys, before rushing to the door. "I think I'll sleep downstairs. I'll collect my things after you slink off to your lair."

In the morning, Joelle packed her meager possessions, all of which Lucien had acquired for her, into two bags and walked to the car more than a dozen times. She'd even gone so far as to put it in drive, but something kept her anchored there. And thus began the staring contest between her and his vintage car. She sat for hours on the wide stone steps to Lucien's home, scowling at it. By sunset she surrendered.

"You win!" She hurled a rock at the Ford but it fell short by a solid ten feet, skittering into the grass.

Joelle couldn't bring herself to go, not like that, not in that way. Regardless of the rage which percolated in her veins, the fact was, she still wanted him. So, despite her temporal lobe arguing strongly against it, she trudged her way into the house and waited for him to come for her, intent on making him grovel.

***

Lucien wondered what Joelle was doing hold up in his room. If she came out at all, it must have been during daylight hours, he hadn't seen her since their tiff. It was torture knowing she was just beyond the door, lying in his bed, wrapped in little more than a sheet. But he wouldn't impose himself on her. When she was ready to talk, he would be waiting and would take whatever venom she had to spew.

Sleep was impossible. Her days were filled with endless wondering and the evenings were immersed in his intoxicating scent. A pacing shadow patrolled the hallway outside the bedroom, but never beckoned to enter. Four days had passed without a single knock at the door and by the fifth she'd had her fill of waiting. It was clear they had reached an impasse. And so Joelle did the one thing she always did when people hurt her, she struck back.

After apologizing to the Mach One for the rock throwing incident, she peeled from the driveway. The afternoon sun began to sink heavy in the western sky and it was Happy Hour, a perfect time to score.

Joelle drove to the closest bar, pulled her tight sweater as low as it would go and pushed inside. So many possibilities, she thought, as she scanned the crowd, composed of blue collar workers and middle management dorks, all easy targets. But there, at the end of the bar, a lone stranger sat, angrily plucking at the tiny straw in his bourbon. He'd be the easiest mark.

"Hard day?" she asked, gliding into the stool beside him.

"It's getting better," he offered, with a broad smile.

"Buy me a drink," she insisted, dispensing with the trivialities of courting.

"What'll you have?" he asked.

"Whiskey, rocks -- a double." She slipped up her skirt as she crossed her legs, knowing that his eyes would follow.

"What's your name?" she asked as she downed half the glass.

"Dennis," he offered, "and yours?"

"Jo," she replied. "So Dennis, now that we've dispensed with the formalities, let's get down to brass tax. Do you want to fuck me or not?" She gulped the balance of her whiskey and motioned to the bartender for another.




The Cellar Ch. 03



"More than you know," eagerly he replied, his hand adjusting the growing lump in his cheap khakis.

At least someone wanted to fuck her. "Good, meet me in the bathroom." One more glass of Novocain and she was all set to go.

The bathroom was so hackneyed; she'd done men in far more exciting places. But never in a plane, she thought absentmindedly. How did that happen? Maybe that had to do with never going anywhere. Junky whores never travelled anywhere but jail.

Joelle hiked her skirt around her hips and planted her ass against the wet counter, spreading her legs and inviting him for a spin. It never took more than that for their erections to struggle against the fettered confines of their trousers.

"Fuck me," she demanded, jerking down his pants.

"You want this cock?" he taunted, teasing her parted lips with the head of his unimpressive dick.

"Yes," she lied, "please, I need your cock inside me." Men were so easy. All except for Lucien, that is. But then again, he was no man.

"I'm gonna fuck your pussy so good," he boasted, as he plunged his meagerness inside. 

His uncoordinated thrusting barely registered and she relaxed against the mirror and thought of what she'd like for dinner. A cheeseburger, she determined, real meat sounded delicious.

To satisfy his ego and speed the process, she threw in an occasional feigned moan and roll of the hip. His coarse fingers kneaded and pulled indelicately at her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples sharply between his sausage-like fingers.

"Oh, that's it, right there," she tossed in for good measure.

"That's right bitch, beg for it," he growled as his pathetic pounding mounted to a fevered pitch. She'd elicited the appropriate reaction.

"Fuck me, yeah, that's it. Fuck me harder, do it." She nearly yawned.

A visceral groan signified his release and she leaned over and tossed him a paper towel before he had the opportunity to pull out.

"Thanks, that was awesome," she muttered as she pulled down her skirt.

***

It was on the drive back to the house that she realized how ridiculous she'd been. Tit for tat was so juvenile, and as she neared the house a sinking feeling overwhelmed her and she was suddenly wracked with guilt.

"What a childish thing to do," she scolded herself.

Joelle flew to the bathroom just as the final touches of sunlight licked the mountaintops.

"Fuck," she uttered as she scrubbed the sex from between her legs, checking the clock with maniacal frequency. Shit, five minutes, she thought.

She toweled off, doused herself in perfume and dove into Lucien's bed, hoping she'd cleansed her body of the filthy scent.

Lucien wasted no time finding his way to the door, slamming his fist against it repeatedly before kicking it open. The scent had smacked him in the face as soon as his eyes opened. It lingered in the hallway, grew stronger as he neared his bedroom and permeated the room, nearly causing him to gag.

"What did you do?" he thundered.

"Some double standard, you're the only one who gets to have extracurricular sex around here?" she accused.

"You know I have no choice, you know I'd rather stay here -- with you. But you; you get the privilege of a choice and so you have chosen," he snarled.

"What? So I get to just sit around while you parade your feasts around the house? I'm supposed to lie here, waiting for my turn to glory in your splendor? Is that what I'm supposed to do?" she sneered.

"I brought them here so I could spend more time with you," he shouted. "This was a bad idea, I knew that from the moment I came back to your shitty apartment, from the moment I set foot in that fucking den of iniquity you call a job."

"I'm sorry I was such a hindrance, pardon me for interrupting your orgy brigade," she prodded. "It was stupid of me to think I mattered; won't you please forgive me?" she mocked.

"Go!" he roared, "take the car, just leave!"

"So that's it?" she goaded, her lashes becoming heavy with unshed tears. It was an odd pairing of emotions, anger and agony. "That's all you have to say?"

"No, that's not all," his tone dropped. "I'm leaving for an hour, be gone by the time I get back."

"Enjoy yourself! I'm sure she'll be delicious!" she screamed as he slammed the fractured door.

*

** For those of you who have continued to tune in to the story of Joelle and Lucien's tumultuous relationship, I wish to say thank you. A special thanks to those who have taken the time to leave feedback and/or write to me directly. It is my hope to get the balance of the chapters up in rapid succession, as chapters four and five are near completion. I hope you all tune back in. **



The Cellar Ch. 04



Chasing the dragon, that's what Joelle usually fell back on. But this time things were different, this time, chasing the dragon wasn't good enough and mainlining was the only cure. It was better, stronger, more potent, and it took the edge off more effectively. The initial hit caused her to hurl, but after shooting up a few more times, she settled into its spell like a reliable pair of slippers.

Lucien was in nearly every waking thought, causing her habit to double within the first two weeks. Yet, even with the dope coursing through her veins, when she spread her legs for the plethora of men now required to support it, it was his body she felt.

So, aside from some new gnawing memories, life had settled back into the same old routines. Lots of junk, lots of spunk and not a whole lot left to live for. Long gone were the days of sobriety, and being utterly reckless didn't seem such a big deal. Tonight was no exception; reckless seemed a perfectly normal thing to do on the one month anniversary of the complete decimation of her life.

With a pocket full of dope, three forties, and some guy named John to share in her bounty, Joelle went about the business of getting fucked, in all manner of speaking. At first it seemed to be an alright kind of night, though John was a bit grabbier than she would have liked. But an hour into the festivities she could barely escape his hands, and upon her final rebuff, she felt a sharp spray of searing heat, flood across her face.

"Asshole!" she thundered as she grabbed her welting cheek.

"Fucking whore!"

"You fucking cocksucker, get out!" Joelle rushed to the door, but before she could reach the handle, he grabbed her arm and swung her like a doll, across the room.

"Not before I get my hundred dollars worth bitch!" With a roar, John's hands were tangled in her hair as he tossed her prone, onto the bed.

Joelle felt her underwear tear away, replaced by clammy flesh against her thighs. The shock of pain tearing across her ass signified the new direction of their foray and she struggled against his violent grasp. But during her attempt to wriggle away, John slammed her face against the headboard and offered another painful blow across her cheek, momentarily stunning her.

A metallic, almost acidic taste quickly flooded across her tongue. Warm and thick, it permeated her mouth, causing her to gag. Blood, she assessed, as a stinging, sanguine haze consumed her sight. Suddenly she was struggling to breathe and felt the scratchy fabric of a pillowcase smothering her face. Desperately her hands flailed through the air, catching wisps of his skin with her nails, but he only pressed harder, stealing the air from her lungs. 

And then he was inside her, prying apart her legs as his dick worked furiously inside her unwelcoming walls. When he slammed three un-lubricated fingers in her ass, she wailed from the sundering pain.

Violently he pounded his cock inside, disregarding the chafing against his own skin. Not even a hiccup of arousal pooled in her cunt, yet he seemed intent on thrusting as fast and as hard as his hips would allow. With each painful stroke, the intensity of his hand grew, until finally she felt his heavy platinum wedding band slam against her. Joelle yowled as the severity mounted, causing John's hand to press harder against the pillow, sucking the last whispers of air from her chest. And with the very last gasp of breath in her lungs, she screamed.

John. That seemed an appropriate name for tonight's customer, Lucien surmised. Yet again, he had found himself outside another dive motel in the vilest part of town. When he'd left to get a bite to eat, Joelle and John were quietly chatting, and when he returned, he heard their struggle and the sound of hands slapping skin. It was probably game play, and the thought of that made him wince.

But when he heard her muffled screams and struggling breath, he knew it was no game. Within a few short moments he was on the other side of the tattered door, yanking John's hammering pelvis and probing fingers from Joelle.

Lucien watched helplessly as she struggled to regain her breath, her hands flying to her neck as she choked the air through her throat in raspy gulps. Instantly he understood the potential consequence of their ridiculous fight. The severity of her situation could not have been made clearer and, had he not been there to stop John, he would have snuffed out her very fragile life.

For a moment, with his hand wrapped tightly around John's pulsing neck, he thought about how wonderful it would feel to simply squeeze; to watch the life drain from his body as it had from Joelle's. But John didn't deserve to die in the presence of such beauty; death, he thought, would have to wait for another day.

With violent intensity, Lucien slammed John into the wall, holding his twitching body several feet from the ground, before hammering him into the floor. A sharp tug freed the wallet from John's limp frame and Lucien flipped through its contents, locating his driver's license.

"You and I will be seeing each other again, John Franklin Ballows," he growled, taking in the address. With a violent shove that tore his trousers, Lucien returned the wallet to John's pocket, before turning his attention to Joelle.

"Old habits?" the familiar voice soothed through the haze of dope and oxygen deprivation, swirling about her brain.

"Mmmmm," she hummed, unable to lift her head.

Lucien pulled her from the sticky rug and swung her over his shoulder, quickly depositing her in the backseat of his Mercedes, mere seconds later. In a plume of black smoke and the chocking effluvium of burnt rubber, the Benz fishtailed from the parking lot.

"I don't suppose you have any recollection of what happened to my vehicle?" he asked politely.

"Sold it," she slurred.

"That's too bad, I loved that car. It's going to cost a fortune to replace it."

"I'll work it off." Joelle pulled a wad of twenties from her pocket and tossed them over the seat. "And I want a receipt."

"Lovely. You can have it back, I don't want your fuck money."

When she offered her middle finger between the seats, Lucien grabbed her arm and inspected her desecrated skin. "Track marks?" he roared.

"It's easier," she mumbled.

"Easier?"

"To forget."

Once home, he stripped the remnants of torn clothes from Joelle's body, and thrust them in disgust, into the trash pail outside the house. They reeked of putrid depravity and under no circumstance would he let them touch her skin again. Without a word, Lucien carried her upstairs and into the bedroom. After pulling free from the shackles of his clothing, he held her in the shower and released a deluge of frigid water against her naked body.

"Stop it! Please! Stop!" she screamed, as the glacial sting pulled her from her stupor. "Lucien, please!" she pleaded, wiggling between his arms in a desperate attempt at escape.

Quietly and with great calm, he wiped the blood from her face, until finally she stopped fighting and succumbed. When he could no longer smell the depraved scent of John on her skin, he pulled her from the shower and wrapped her shaking body in a towel.

Lucien carried her to their bed, resolved that it would be theirs from then on, and when she had warmed, he pulled free the towel and took in her scent. Though the smell of dope still coursed through her veins, she was delectable.

It had been agony not having her there. Every night he found himself lingering for hours outside whichever flea bag motel she was in, gnashing his teeth as he listened to the sound of wretched skin slapping against her beautiful body. He even found himself following one of them home, intent on beating him into a spray of crimson after a bevy of especially vile acts. But that filth had a family and he was not so depraved as to violate that.

Joelle felt his mouth against her breast. His tongue swept across her skin as if she were coated in fine chocolate. There was something desperate about it, like eating a steak after a month of sustaining on crackers. And apparently that's what she was to him, steak.

"Go ahead, do what you want, just get it over with."

"Really Joelle? That is so very romantic," he snapped.

"Whatever, just do me," she sighed, "that's all you want anyway."

He jerked her limp body upright and leaned her against the pillows. "I am practically starving to death..."

"So just do it already!" she screamed.

"Shut up! I am starving because the mere thought of you bedding with another man makes me ill! I am starving because I have spent every single night for the past thirty days, following you around like a fucking dolt!"

"Well you shouldn't have gone to all that trouble, I was fine!"

"Really? How does your ass feel Joelle?"

"Fine, I like it rough," she barked. Actually, now that he brought it up, her ass did feel quite sore, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

"Joelle," his voice softened, "I missed you -- every single night."

"I missed you too," she grumbled, "you fucking jerk."

"So shut up already."

Slowly his mouth drifted the length of her long neck; his tongue laved the delicate skin against her clavicle, as his fingers drifted in soft circles across her breast. Her nipples perked instantly, pleading to be wreathed by his mouth, and his tongue obliged, sweeping long deliberate strokes across their taut flesh. Joelle's abdomen fluttered as he cupped her breasts in his potent hands, while his lips whispered kisses across her skin.

As they always did, her legs spread easily for him, welcoming him into the delicate folds of her perfection. Sliding between her thighs, he took in the first full breath of her perfect flesh. Joelle was hungry for him, he hadn't even touched her yet and she was glistening with arousal. Her scent was hypnotic, sweet and earthy, stocked with the promise of her flavor. 

Lucien wanted to prolong the experience of tasting her after so much time apart, but he was unable to control himself. As his tongue traced the delicate edges of her pert clit, Joelle gasped; and at the sound of her pleasure, Lucien felt the first twitches of his cock. In mere moments he knew it would be rock hard, wanting desperately to be inside her, screaming under the taut restraints of his pants and demanding to claim her.

"Make love to me Lucien," she moaned as he gently coaxed her clitoris between his lips, dipping his middle finger in her succulent warmth. "Please, I need you to make love to me."

He ignored her pleas and instead focused on the sweet nectar which exuded from the depths of her chamber. It was amazing how tight she was, given her profession, and even more amazing that this no longer upset him. As soon as she was naked in his arms, his rage had vanished.

Delicately he probed her, slipping his fingers inside her eager cunt, and rolling them in leisurely circles. Tonight would not be rushed. Tonight was about enjoying all that he had missed and sharing that with her.

Another little tingle, a flicker of sensation, filled his growing erection. More than anything, he wanted to fuck her, but a month of separation created a storm of desire that gnawed at the edges of the beast's cage. Control was essential, and with all his might, he fought against the ever throbbing bulge between his legs. But the sound of Joelle's voice heightened his arousal and the sensation intensified.

"Mmmm," she moaned, raking her fingers through his hair, "don't stop."

The clawing of her nails against his neck hardened his cock, and when she heaved and quivered in orgasm, he had to stop. No longer impervious to her peevish demands, he was now on the verge of giving in.

"Lucien, please!" she begged, shooting up from the bed and grabbing his face. "Please don't do this to me! I'll do whatever you want, I promise, just please, don't stop!"

"Anything?" His interest was piqued and he reached for her mouth, sharing with her the taste of her orgasm.

Hungrily her lips responded and, with a moan that made his dick harder still, she rolled her tongue around his, consuming her flavor.

"Anything!" she insisted as her hands fell to swollen his flesh.

"Interesting, I think I'll take you up on that some time."

Finally Lucien relented, knowing that ultimately he could deny neither of them. His hand slid beneath her ass, tilting her hips and driving his tongue deep inside her throbbing walls. This time, when she rocked her pelvis against his mouth, he offered what she desired. He pierced her tender lips with the full force of four fingers, strumming her g-spot like an instrument, while he rolled his tongue around her pert clit.

Within seconds she bore down against him in the full release of orgasm, it took only seconds more for another to roar against his fingers. He delighted in seeing her body convulsing from his touch, her abdomen fluttering under the force of contractions, as waves of pleasure rocked her loins. When she could take no more, he pulled free his fingers and gently laved the length of her labia until the wriggling ceased, and she had distilled the last of her essence against his tongue.

Immediately Joelle rolled on top of him and straddled his waist, digging her knees into his sides. "Make love to me," she demanded, her fingers twining with his as she sought his lips.

Her fevered mouth cut off his words and tested the bounds of his resistance. "No," he murmured, quickly pulling away.

"Lucien, please don't make me beg, I need you inside me. Make love to me."

"No," he reprimanded. 

The throbbing in his cock was now an all consuming ache. With every rub or brush of her skin, his intensity grew. And when her labia grazed its swollen head, he nearly plunged inside her walls.

"Joelle," he snarled, his eyes darkening.

Pitching her hips against his, she let the head of his dick dip between her moist sheathe. A tense dance of reticence and desire played across his face, and it was at that moment she chose to make her move.

Lucien's head rolled back as she slid him inside and the sharp lines of his jaw clenched as she moved him deeper. When she reached the base of his thick shaft, he could stand it no longer and hoisted her off, tossing her prone onto the bed.

Grabbing her hips and drawing them to him, she felt the full length of his shaft slam into her tight pussy, prying her open. A coarse moan exploded from her lungs as he pushed deeper inside, beating against her tender cervix.

Lucien's growl intensified and seemed to take on a new tenor, the pounding of his hips against her ass escalated. Just as it had before, he seemed to swell inside her, the girth of his shaft nearly doubling in size, stretching her well beyond the point of pain. She wailed as his extended length impaled her. 

"I'm sorry," in earnest he begged her forgiveness, quickly pulling out.

"No!" Quickly she worked to find him again, ramming her ass against his pelvis until the unmistakable feel of his dick, pierced her lips.

Lucien's size finally returned to normal and his hands found her waist again as he carefully penetrated. And with a roll her hips, Joelle welcomed him back in. With his knees he spread her wider, breaching her fully with his cock, holding it deep inside as her muscles relaxed against him.

Lucien's hands travelled the curves of her back and wound their way to her round, full breasts as his pelvis smacked against her firm ass. With his fingertips, he found her perked nipples, rolling them gently between his fingers as she gasped.

Neither tender nor brutal, Lucien was the perfect blend of strength and attentiveness. His strokes were more deliberate, more calculated than before, prolonging the experience and drawing out every sensation. Slowly he drew himself out, allowing just the crescent, swollen head of his cock to linger inside. For nearly an hour they played this game, until Joelle was on the verge of collapse.

A quick jerk against her breasts brought the curves of her back to rest against his chest. Delicately, he swept the hair from her shoulder and traced his tongue along her neck. Joelle reached her arms behind her head and raked her nails through his hair. Locking her hands around his neck, she pulled him forward, her hungry mouth finding his in a tangled embrace. Her luscious tongue traced his lips until he allowed it to slip in his mouth and meet with his. Twining together and encapsulated by a moan, their lips melded seamlessly.

The combination of sensations, both so forbidden and so absolutely euphoric, had them teetering on the very brink of disaster. But he was unable to deny Joelle everything she was asking and, at that moment, he was thankful she had no idea her absolute power over him.

Lucien sat on his haunches, drawing Joelle onto his lap and settling her firmly on his cock, now willing to share control. The tiniest little squeal slipped from her mouth as she adjusted to the new position. It took only a moment for her to process the change and what it meant. With his hands still firmly planted on her breasts, he felt her breathing quicken as she slid up the length of his shaft and brought herself down with blinding force.

"You want me to fuck you?" she groaned, rolling her head against his chest and locking eyes with him.

"Fuck my cock," Lucien growled before sinking his teeth into her shoulder, allowing a small trickle of her blood to drip into his mouth.

Joelle felt the skin of her shoulder tear and yelped in pain. But there was something erotic about the pain. The knowledge that her blood was pooling in his mouth and mixing with his saliva, bringing him pleasure, brought her to orgasm. Desperately lost in this newfound eroticism, she rocked her hips, consuming every inch of him.

For a moment, he lost himself, causing her to wail, but when she stopped wriggling and let him refocus, the demon was soothed and sequestered safely in its cage.

With a pitch of her pelvis, the head of Lucien's cock slid against her g-spot, causing her entire body to tremble. Immediately he grabbed her hips and rocked them in slow circles, stroking her g-spot with the head of his dick until she screamed. Her body quaked in orgasm, stealing her breath. A flutter of pulsating spasms, coursed through her tight walls, consuming his shaft and bringing him with her to the very edges of orgasm.

A feral growl pooled in his chest as Joelle slowly rode the length of his shaft. With a soft yelp, she devoured its length until she felt him harden and twitch inside her walls.

When he was about to cum, she stopped and held him deep inside. "I'm not on the pill anymore," she whispered against his neck.

There was really no answer for that statement and it was certainly not a conversation Lucien was prepared to have at that moment. Instead, he drew her hips forward and slammed himself inside, feeling the rhythmic contractions in his dick as the pressure built. Joelle's muscles tightened around his shaft, intensifying the throbbing and milking the cum from his cock. With a violent roar, he felt the surge of orgasm claim him and finally relieve the ache between his legs.

A flood of convulsion rocked Joelle's loins as she felt the rush of his semen flooding her womb, and with every spasm he delivered more. In seemingly ceaseless waves he came inside her, filling her with his honey seed and coating the deepest recesses of her uterus. Joelle's body heaved in orgasm and he held her tight against his chest. When her breathing slowed, he gently let her slip to the bed, collapsing beside her as he recovered his own.

"Are you trying to get me knocked up?" she protested breathlessly.

Lucien chortled as he stroked his fingers along her breast. "Joelle, there isn't a pill or condom available that could stop me. If I wanted you with child, you would be."

"But you came in me."




The Cellar Ch. 04



"Consider it a placebo."

"Oh... so no demon babies?"

"Only one," he offered, "and the woman I chose will have to be particularly special."

"I'm not special enough?" she asked, realizing a moment too late that she didn't really want to know the answer to that question. Whatever answer came from his mouth would probably only serve to irritate her and that was ridiculous, since she never wanted kids in the first place.

"You're too special. I would not want that for you Joelle," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her neck.

"Oh," she whispered.

***

During their first two months together, they suffered some violent eruptions, most revolving around her jealousy. Though Joelle understood the need, at least peripherally, and she'd agreed to the terms, it was still hard to accept the idea of Lucien requiring other women.

More than a dozen times, Joelle found herself sitting in his Benz with the keys clenched tightly in her hand. But after pounding the steering wheel a few times, she always got out, threw a rock at the car, and traipsed back into the house. If nothing else, their arguments provided hours of insane sex. For the most part, Lucien had wrestled the beast into submission and now enjoyed her in many of the ways they both craved, though he was still very reticent about intercourse.

On a fairly regular basis, Lucien found himself locked out of their bedroom for some infraction of the ever-changing rules. Joelle was a pain in the ass on a fairly consistent basis, barking at him about a particular blonde or brunette she found too attractive to tolerate. But the bickering always ended when he'd toss her on the bed and wrap her legs around his waist.

By the third month, a new accord was reached. Every evening, without exception, began and ended with her. The use of headphones was implemented and she agreed not to peek at his "meals" anymore, though he'd caught her cheating on more than one occasion. Though she had assured him that there would never be a repeat of their last major blow up, he still had lingering doubts. So Lucien spent countless hours, considering how to prepare a preemptive strike.

"Stay with me," Joelle whispered as Lucien pulled his clothes from the floor. "It's been months and you've never once slept with me."

"Though I would love nothing more, it is probably best if I don't."

"Lucien, what are we doing?" she asked meekly, "I don't mean just today, I mean... I haven't spent a night in my apartment in six months. Do you want me to stay here or is this all temporary?"

"Temporary? That was never my intention."

"Are you asking me to move in?"

"If memory serves, you were the one asking the questions." Lucien immediately recognized the change in her expression and realized that he'd made a severe tactical error. She seemed despondent now. "Yes, I would like for you to live with me, give up your shithole apartment and live with me -- please."

"Very convincing," she grumbled.

"Joelle, forgive me. Kindly call your slumlord and tell him that I simply cannot part with you and am refusing to give you up. And should he like to keep the security deposit, I will gladly forfeit it as long as I get to keep you."

"You're forgiven," she chittered. "And I will live with you on one condition."

"Which is?"

"Sleep with me. I'm tolerating a lot and all I'm asking is that you sleep with me. It kills me that I can't touch you when I know you're so close. I want to feel your body beside mine when I go to sleep."

With a deep sighed, Lucien pulled down the slatted blinds and drew closed the thick velvet curtains on every window, immersing the room in cloaking darkness.

"There is a curtain beside the door, draw it closed before you leave during daylight hours. And don't touch my face. Those are my rules, both are deal breakers. Do you accept?"

"I do." Joelle could barely contain her excitement as he rejoined her on the bed, and she had to fight off the urge to attack him. "Could we move to Alaska?" she asked as she settled in against his chest. "I hear there's only like -- four hours of daylight in the winter."

"There are nearly twenty in the summer."

"So we get a place in the south, like Tierra del Fuego, be bi-polar, no pun intended. Alaska in the winter, Argentina in the summer -- please say yes."

"You are incredibly cute, do you know that?"

"I do, but that doesn't answer my question."

"There's one issue you neglected to consider. There is a shocking lack of resources in those areas."

"If I can find something suitable, would you consider it?"

"If you can find something suitable, then yes, I will consider it."

"Good," she chirped happily.

***

After a week of mental deliberations, Lucien finally came up with a solution. Though the mere concept of what was about to happen made him feel a little ill, the potential payoff was immense. If nothing else, he'd be giving something back to Joelle, or at least that was the hope.

"I have a surprise Joelle," Lucien announced as he pushed through the bedroom door; a dirty blonde, blue eyed, frat boy toddling closely behind. "His name is Adam. Seems appropriate, no?"

"Very cute," she smirked, "what's this about?"

"Get undressed Adam," Lucien demanded as he returned his attention to Joelle. "Now, I have brought you this adequate specimen named Adam," he said slyly, "because I do not wish for you to attempt to even the score again. In addition, I am aware that you have desires I simply cannot satisfy, Adam will fulfill those on my behalf. However, there is to be no kissing and no intercourse -- my game, my rules, keep that in mind Joelle."

"Oh," she mumbled, still feeling very confused, "thank you?"

"When this is all over, I intend to fuck you for the balance of the evening, understood?"

"Understood," she chirped, hopping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. "But I still don't understand what's going on."

"Adam is my gift to you."

Actually, Adam was more of a gift to Lucien than anything else. For weeks Joelle had been pestering him about his "dates" and for weeks they'd managed to have a tiff nearly every night, but with Adam, he'd have leverage. With Adam, he'd even the playing field and, regardless of the anxiety this situation caused, he was willing to make the sacrifice.

"I want you," she purred, sweeping her tongue the length of his neck and spilling it into his mouth.

Lucien carried her to the bed, pulled his robe from her exquisite body, and deposited her beside a very enthusiastic looking Adam. "You're getting me hard," Lucien whispered as he pulled free from Joelle's steely grasp and sat at the edge of the bed.

"I want you inside me," she insisted, crawling across the space between them and settling into his lap.

"Then undress me and take it."

With hasty fingers, Joelle unbuttoned and peeled the shirt from his chest, tickling her fingers across the banded muscles of his abdomen. Her hands reached his pants and whipped the belt from around his waist, eagerly tugging the fabric from his body to reveal his swollen colossus. Pulling her back onto his lap, Lucien drew her legs around his waist and rested his shaft inside the cleft of her ass.

"I am so fucking hot right now," Joelle groaned as she tasted his mouth. "I love the way you feel inside me."

"It's time, Adam."

Adam's erection was pronounced and his eyes lustfully caressed every inch of Joelle's perfect flesh. There was no doubt he wanted to fuck her, that was clear even before she got naked. So fuck her he would, only not in the way he had hoped. That belonged to Lucien.

"Fuck her ass," he demanded of Adam, "And if you hurt her I will absolutely kill you, are we clear?"

"Yeah, sure," Adam answered excitedly.

"Good, you will find some lube in the drawer." Lucien nodded to the nightstand.

"I love you," Joelle gasped as she brought her hips down hard against his, enjoying the feel of him inside her.

Her words rendered him not only silent, but still. It didn't make any sense that she would say something like that, so he was certain he had misheard her. But when she said it again, the words were crystal clear.

"You lead," Lucien growled against her neck, desperate for a distraction.

Joelle had told him she loved him and he said nothing. At first she didn't expect a response, she wasn't certain whether he'd even know what it meant to love someone, but after she'd said it, and it was met with silence, it stung a little. Unfortunately, with two dicks to contend with, it was now impossible to think about anything logically. So, she'd have to come back to that thought later.

Adam was just the right size for anal -- six perfect inches and no thicker than her slender wrist -- he was far smaller than Lucien who would have sent her screaming for the hills if he even tried. With her hands on Adams hips, she drew him nearer, manipulating his body into the perfect position to work them both. But Adam just stood there, cock in hand, with barely the head in Joelle's ass. Poor Adam, she thought, too terrified to fuck because big bully Lucien scared him shitless.

With her tongue curling around each word, she prodded, "it's okay big boy, you can't hurt me. Go ahead -- fuck me like you mean it."

Adam required no additional encouragement and pushed beyond the tightness of her puckered orifice, and through the first few bands of muscle. With a little help from her hips, Adam had finally managed to sink himself in. After a few awkward attempts, Joelle was able to tease them both out and, while sliding her ass against Adam's pelvis, sink them back in.

"Grab my hips," she instructed Lucien.

Joelle focused on Adam, knowing Lucien's strength and superior length would keep him locked deep inside. So she rocked her hips, taking Adam deep and sliding him back out. He could barely control himself as she teased his cock, making him wait for her commands. It was clear Adam was desperate for some serious thrusting and she'd give it to him eventually, he just had to be good and wait for it.

When Adam's hungry mouth locked on hers, he was sharply rebuffed with a snarl from Lucien. "Off limits!"

"Bad boy Adam," Joelle rebuked with a taunting smile, slamming her ass against his cock and eliciting a throaty groan.

She'd done double penetration more than a few times, but never with someone as massive as Lucien; and when they were both lodged deep inside her, it was almost like being split in two. But there was also something about that, that was very exciting and she was now raring to find out how far she could take them.

Seeing how eager Adam had been, she knew he wouldn't give up without getting off, so her focus returned to Lucien. As she slid against his body, she brought Adam with her.

"You lead," she purred, knowing that was all it would take. With Lucien back in control, she would be the true benefactress. Letting him take over, only meant more pleasure for both men.

And just as she had suspected he would, his response was immediate and intense. With his hands wrapped dangerously tight around her hips, he thrust the entire weight of her body against his cock and, right on cue, Adam thrust back. Like two unrelenting pistons they worked inside her, each bringing their own brand of pleasure and skill. Adams hands joined Lucien's, eager to garner his own control over her and, surprisingly, Lucien let him share in it.

Joelle's teeth clamped down against her lower lip as she locked eyes with Lucien. There was something about her stare that sent his arousal to a whole other level and when she moaned, he nearly lost it. As Adam plunged harder and faster inside her ass, Lucien felt her arms wrap tightly around his neck and her nails dig deep into his shoulders. And again, as if to staunchly deny the very rules of his existence, she whispered in his ear that she loved him. But he was still unable to respond.

It was impossible for Adam to match Lucien's longevity and ten minutes into his primal thrusting, he slammed his cock inside her ass and groaned. Joelle felt him pulsing inside her and then slowly soften before he finally pulled out. With an uncomfortable wiggle, she felt the unmistakable dribble of cum travelling down her ass. It was the one element of anal she could live without. But feeling Lucien inside her provided a perfect distraction from the discomfort.

"I'm all yours," flirtatiously she whispered, "play with me."

With a sharp snarl he spilled her to the bed and wrenched her ass to the very edge, sliding her back onto his dick as he stood between her parted legs.

Lucien had the most spectacular cock in the entire world and when he fucked her, she could feel every ounce of it inside her. Its contours and shapes, even the thick blue veins that ran its length, she could feel it all. And even though it hurt to feel its full length inside of her, she delighted in the pain, because with it came explosive pleasure.

"Fuck me as hard as you can," she pleaded, her eyes locking with his in a stare that promised acceptance. "Do it."

Lucien's lip curled slightly as his hands cinched her hips, tipping them up for better advantage. With unrestrained force he drove himself in, drawing her off and driving back in. Being inside her, was controlled chaos and the most phenomenal, explosive feeling he had ever experienced in his many years.

"Tell me how your cock feels inside me."

"Amazing."

"Make me yours," she implored, "I want to be yours."

"Joelle," breathlessly he suspired, fighting back the urge to give her precisely what she desired. "I..."

Unable to produce the appropriate words and consumed by the feel of their blended flesh, he simply left the conversation there, lost in a sea of blankets. Joelle seemed to sense his conflict and never uttered another word. Instead, she availed him of everything he wanted, twisting and manipulating her body to best accommodate him. And when he had reached the pinnacle, she reached between his legs and gently squeezed his balls, heightening the sensation.

***

It was daylight, yet the undeniable sound of footsteps echoed through the vestibule and bounced their way up the stairs. Joelle reached beside her and felt the glorious heat of Lucien's body as he slept, and felt herself smile for the sixth afternoon in a row. After pulling on his robe, she drew the curtain closed and slipped quietly from the room.

"Hello?" she called as she trotted to the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Jo!" Annette's voice boomed like an air horn throughout the marble foyer. "I've been looking for you for months, I was afraid I'd find you here."

Joelle felt herself falling forward as her feet locked into place. "I don't understand," she peeped in a pained tone.

"Pack your things," Annette demanded, "you need to leave now."

"What?" she choked, "why?"

"There's no time to explain," Annette bustled, "we'll talk in the car."

"I'm not going anywhere, I live here! What the fuck is going on?"

"Wow," Annette muttered, shaking her head, "he really has kept you in the dark, hasn't he? Maybe you should sit, Jo."

It was Annette's tone that caused her hands to shake and, unable to pull her eyes from Annette's, Joelle felt for the sofa and collapsed against its cushions.

"Jo, I know at this point, you're aware of what he is," Annette said in a heavy tone, "and just so that you're aware, I've known for years."

"Fine, but what does that have to do with me?" she asked brusquely.

"I had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, that you were a passing fancy, and he'd be done with you by now. But apparently you aren't and it's time you hear the truth."

Joelle watched in stunned silence as Annette paced the living room floor, gathering her thoughts.

"Jo, as despicable as this may seem to you, Lucien and I have had an arrangement for quite some time now. I've offered him an endless supply of girls and he, in return, made promises to me. Though I have yet to collect on that element of the arrangement, his promise to me is fixed and he in now bound to me."

"He's bound to you? I don't understand," her voice trembled.

"He's promised to me for eternity," Annette offered flatly, "and you were the final element of our negotiations. My end of the agreement has been met, now Lucien must live up so his."

"Annette, this is a fascinating story, really it is, but I have nothing to do with any agreements you made and I find it hard to believe Lucien would make a deal with you, for me. That's insane!"

"The night you first came to The Center, the night we had to turn you away. Do you remember it?"

"Not really," Joelle mumbled, reeling from the barrage of nonsensical information.

Certainly she was aware of the evening Annette was referring to. But it was years ago when Joelle suffered that overdose. She remembered meeting with a social worker from the hospital, who had attempted to get her admitted for detox at The Center. But the specific memories from the night were muddled and very few details about the events remained in her memory. The only thing she really recalled was waking up at some small detox facility in the armpit of the city. Beyond that, her mind was a blank.

"When you were brought in from County General you were a disaster, we wanted to take you in but we didn't have a free bed. During the brief time you were in my office, Lucien picked up your scent. He wanted you, he sensed you, and ever since, he's had this odd fascination with you. He demanded that I bring you in, that I convince you to come back -- and I did exactly as he commanded, it took two years but eventually you said yes and I delivered you right to him."

"Demanded?" she peeped.

"Demanded," Annette echoed. A sharp, explosive breath burst from her lungs as she flopped to the sofa. "You can't have him Jo but I also know he's never going to let you go. So you'll have to be the one to break from him, otherwise he'll continue to use you up until there's nothing left of you to take... Jo, he doesn't care about you, not in the way you care about him."

Joelle shot up from the sofa and angrily folded her arms. "I think you should leave Annette," she blustered, storming toward the door and thrusting it open. "Go!"

"Not without speaking with Lucien, let him know I'm waiting in the car."

After slamming the door behind Annette, Joelle crept up the stairs and toward the bedroom. But with each passing step, the words Annette had said began to sink in, and for the first time, things finally made sense.

Joelle dropped Lucien's robe on the chaise and lay on their bed, just as she'd done every night for the past six months. Though she'd never asked him about it, she assumed that there must have been some kind of understanding between him and Annette, it simply hadn't occurred to her that it was so involved. Aside from that, Lucien had conveniently forgotten to mention that she was brought to The Center under false pretenses. Worse yet, never had he mentioned anything about being bound to someone or that there even was such a thing. And, unless Annette was lying about everything, what Joelle thought she had with Lucien, was nothing more than manipulation and subterfuge.

For hours she lay beside him in the pitch black of their bedroom, pulling apart the information and attempting to splice if back together. Regardless of the twist she'd tried to put on it, all paths led back to betrayal. They had both deceived her and the lies they had told her were beyond heinous, they were heartbreaking.

When the blankets stirred, Joelle snapped shut her eyes and pretended to sleep, hoping he would simply dress and leave for the evening. But when a rushing heat coursed through her flesh, she knew that it was his intention to stay with her. And when Lucien traced the lines of her back with his fingertips, she began to feel sick.




The Cellar Ch. 04



Joelle's skin possessed a sweetness that bested any taste he'd ever known. Every evening began and ended in her flavor, and tonight would be no exception. Lucien's hands slid the length of her long legs, delighting in the feel of goose bumps across her silken skin. When he'd reached her hips, he pulled her sharply against his pelvis, gently falling against her body. His fingers played against the contours of her waist as he snaked his tongue along the curve of her neck.

Tonight, he decided, would be consumed by her, there would be none other. It had been months since he'd allowed himself the rapturous feel of her mouth, the eagerness of her tongue. Tonight she could have all of the things for which she so desperately pleaded, there would be no denial, and he would give her whatever she desired, without hesitation.

"There's a surprise for you," she whispered, as if in response to his devious thoughts.

"Mmmm, sounds delightful," he cooed, filling his mouth with the tender flesh of her shoulder.

Joelle rolled on her back and Lucien wasted no time nibbling and teasing her breast. Yet she seemed reluctant to respond.

"You have a visitor -- waiting outside."

His body tensed immediately and though he knew instantly who this mystery guest was, the question still needed to be asked. "Who is it, Joelle?"

"Annette."

"Headphones," he commanded, his body quickly vacating the bed, charging out of the room. Fucking Annette, he should have known she'd eventually come to the house. It was against his better judgment that he brought Joelle home. He knew he should have taken her somewhere else while he dealt with the complications of his arrangement with Annette.

Joelle slipped the headphones over her ears and pressed play on her Ipod. They had been a necessary distraction from the sounds of pleasure which still enraged her. But tonight they served a different purpose; tonight she needed them to drown out the pounding of her heart.

***

When Lucien returned to their bedroom, she was precisely where he'd left her, nestled in a ball on their bed, with headphones firmly in place. He knew she'd be furious, Annette had told her everything, and regardless of the spin she'd put on it, there wasn't much to argue against. Lies had been told, information omitted, and ultimately Joelle was deceived. But his feelings for her, his desperation and desire, his need for her, those were all very real.

"No," Joelle protested, pushing away his hands as they threaded her thighs.

"I need this," he forcefully insisted.

"You don't get to have us both," her voice hitched, as she shoved him away.

"I don't want you both, I want you. Please, I need to rid myself of her."

"Did you bet to see how long it would take to get between my legs? Who won, was there at least a prize? Was I worth at least that?"

"I should have told you. The promise I made was out of greed and it was made a very long time ago. I regret it now, but I don't regret that it brought me to you."

"Eternity Lucien? You promised her eternity? What the fuck does that even mean?" she insisted.

"That was what she requested, eternal life. At the time it no longer meant anything to me. Never had I come across anything that held any value to me. Until you."

"But she said you were using me, that you never cared about me. She said you demanded me, what kind of shit is that?"

"I demanded you because I longed for you. Yes, in the beginning I absolutely used you, but not once since you've been here, not a single time! I'm still not certain what it means to care about someone, but it made me sick to be with her, to know you were in here, to know you were upset! I have to believe that means I care deeply for you."

"You fucked her; you fucked her, didn't you?"

"Joelle, I..."

"No, I can tell by the look on your stupid face that you did, so spare me the fucking excuses and just admit it."

"Yes."

"Fuck! You promised that would be just ours and she fucking took that? And you; you shit! You gave that to her!"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't exactly given an option. It was that or cashing in her chip."

"So she raped you?" she growled.

"Not exactly rape, more like forced consent."

"There isn't anything left, you let her have the last piece of you."

"That wasn't the last piece of me, no one else can claim my adoration."

"It's not the same thing." A sigh escaped her lungs as she surrendered. The fight was over, she didn't want to hear anymore. What was left to discuss? 

"Joelle, you have to understand, this wasn't by design." He brushed the hair from her neck and kissed her throat.

"Don't touch me! Just the thought of her skin against yours repulses me."

"Joelle, you don't understand, I need this from you," he growled.

"Fuck you, I don't give a shit what you need."

His hand reached between her legs, but she fought his advances and kept them tightly clenched.

"Joelle," he snarled, "don't do this."

"Or what? What are you going to do?"

"Now Joelle," his voice trembled as his hand pried her legs apart with one easy jerk.

"Get off me you fucking bully!" she punched his shoulder but it was akin to jack hammering concrete with a pickle.

Joelle felt the shock of his mouth against hers, feverish and hungry, as he forced himself between her legs. She was even more shocked when she felt his massive erection rest against her thigh.

When his tongue slid between her lips, she bit down, clawing his cheek as she wriggled out of his arms. There were no words, just a fierce growl as he wrestled for her arms, easily pinning her wrists in one potent hand.

"Get off me!' she screamed as she kicked against his thighs.

The struggle with his inner monster was more intense than ever. He wanted to hurt something; no, he wanted to eviscerate something. What he'd wanted from Joelle was her soothing touch, what he needed from her was complete surrender, but what she gave him only incited the monster and he was on the verge of losing all control.

With no concerns for tenderness, Lucien thrust himself inside her. Joelle yowled from the extreme friction and that only spurred him on. She was deliriously tight, to the point of painful constriction, and the lack of lubrication between them only heightened her pain. All of these factors led to only one conclusion, and he now feared for Joelle more than ever before.

Joelle felt the unmistakable transformation happening between her legs. Her mind raced as she remembered the pain, and though she'd never seen what lurked inside him, she knew the monster was fierce. Whatever control he once had was quickly diminishing and she felt his intensity growing at alarming speed.

Lucien jerked her hips off the bed, pinning her legs around his waist as he thrust himself inside her. His restraint had been exhausted and nothing remained but the gnarring of the demon. It was now too late for her.

"You're hurting me!" she screamed, "Stop it!"

The skin against her shoulder yielded beneath his teeth. Blood pooled in his mouth, her blood, sweet and delicate; fragrant, like a fine wine. The sound of her scream, the terror and pain, it almost pulled him back. 

Scream again, his brain commanded, but the words would not leave his lips. Joelle, scream again. He concentrated harder, focusing on the words he could see etched in crimson against his eyes. Scream Joelle! Please!

But she didn't. She lay silent against his shoulder, only weak gasps escaped her mouth as he felt the flesh of his body slamming against her.

And it was done. He sank away into the cage the beast now controlled, sequestered behind a veil of flame. He could merely watch, simply listen to the carnage beyond the prison walls.

Lucien felt himself slam inside her, felt the agony of her flesh as it trembled, spurring him on. Still it wanted more, there would be no sparing her this time, no scrupulous pavan with death, the demon would take what it wanted and leave him the remains.

Her body lay listless and twisted between his arms. The feel of his hands around her hips, once so delicious, marked a dangerous turn. He thrust inside her again, slamming her pelvis against his, tearing her from the bed completely. The vicious arm around her neck pushed her harder, more urgently against his cock, impaling her fully, lancing her very core.

As her back smashed against the wall, the air burst from her lungs, like the popping of a balloon. "Lucien," she gasped, struggling for breath.

He heard his name, registered what it meant, but couldn't temper the raging creature.

"Please," she whimpered as she anemically clawed his neck. Through the veil of blurred vision she saw the creature, with eyes as black as coal and shimmering skin, like a snake, a deep burgundy.

The minor pain she inflicted only served to incite the beast, who now moved with renewed vigor between her quivering legs.

"Your eyes," she gulped, struggling to feed her depleted lungs, like a fish out of water, slowly suffocating, painfully dying.

Joelle summoned her dwindling strength, pouring it into her shaking arms. Her hands lashed out against him, tearing at his skin, clawing at his face, but with every strike his savagery mounted. Her face fell against his neck as her back slammed the wall once more, snapping something inside, completely crushing her lungs.

"You're killing me," she whispered against his ear with the final ounces of air in her lungs.

And everything simply stopped. She wondered if she were dead, there was nothing left but absolute darkness. Nothing moved and tingling numbness consumed her body, and then an all-consuming stillness.

***

Blinding light rocketed her awake. Though she felt the irrefutable feel of skin against her arm, she was unable to move.

"Oh, don't try to move sweetie," a woman's soft, soothing voice whispered, "let me get you another shot of Dilaudid."

It was mere moments until everything returned to black.

This cycle repeated for an immeasurable amount of time, until the pain began to subside and the fogginess drained from her brain. Joelle's cleared eyes panned the room. She was in his bedroom, though she could not imagine why.

"Oh good, you're awake," the woman's voice sang from across the room.

"Who are you?" Joelle strained her neck to meet the stranger's face.

She was lovely, this nameless stranger, tall and slim with hair as blonde as sunlight and glistening hazel eyes, a mixture of topaz and emerald. Was this heaven? Despite her dalliances with a demon, had she actually made it to the pearly gates? It seemed unlikely. Perhaps this was purgatory, or worse, perhaps this was hell.

Joelle had always imagined fire and brimstone, but perhaps hell was filled with beautiful fallen angels. If Lucien was any indication of what lurked in hell, maybe her longstanding assumptions were incorrect. It's a good thing they didn't tell you about that in church, otherwise people might flock to the devil.

"My name is Delilah," she chirped as she sat at the edge of the bed. "I'm so thrilled you came back Joelle. Lucien said if you died he'd make certain I went with you."

"Charming," she muttered.

"He was just being melodramatic -- message received," Delilah laughed. "Besides, he's always had a flare for the dramatic."

"What happened to me?"

"Broken back and seven ribs, punctured lung, some pretty severe internal bleeding... a fractured skull."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Oh, and a minor spinal cord injury, technically you were dead for a little bit there, but I got you up and running again!" Delilah crooned.

"How?"

"Oh, I'm not supposed to say -- he'd kick my ass," she tittered.

"Where is that prick?" she scowled.

"He's gone. He left a note though." Delilah slipped an envelope from her back pocket and laid it on the bed beside Joelle's clenched fist.

"Why are you here? Actually, why am I here?"

"Well, I'm here to make sure you're right as rain and you're here because this is where Luke wanted you."

"'Luke', huh? When's 'Luke' coming back?"

"I don't know, he's been gone over a week already. He asked me to tell you that he's absolutely mortified -- no, wait, that's not right -- he's devastated. He's absolutely devastated by what he's done. By the looks of it, he's right to be."

"Unless 'Luke' went to throw 'Luke' off a cliff, I'm not really interested in how 'Luke' feels," she growled.

"Maybe you should read his note," Delilah offered.

"Maybe I should. But I won't."

"He said you'd feel that way. He said to give you this." Delilah waved a wad of money between her hands. "It's twenty grand, he also left you the Benz, you know -- to get yourself a fresh start."

"What an apology, he fucks me to death and leaves me with a wad of cash. That's just super awesome."

Joelle slept on and off, mostly on, for the next few days. Surprisingly once she was out of bed she didn't feel as bad as she expected to. With the exception of a few aches and pains, and a couple of sickly yellow bruises, she actually felt kind of alright.

The fact that she was on the fast track to recovery seemed to make Delilah more cheerful than normal and something about that irritated the hell out of Joelle. There was nothing at all to be cheerful about. Lucien, the man - or what ever the hell he was - she loved, the same one she had hoped to have a life with, had killed her. Not almost killed her, he had technically killed her.



The Cellar Ch. 05



Even through a veil of crooked limbs and leafy branches, it was clear to see that every single light in the house was on. Like a beacon on a desolate shore, it sprayed a glowing path through the haze of trees, guiding Lucien home.

Three weeks had passed since he had savagely murdered Joelle and left her tattered remains in Delilah's capable hands. Though the rules were broken, and there would no doubt be a penalty to pay, Joelle's life had been restored. But the reparations ended there and he knew what waited for him at home, was bound to be as torturous as the carnage he had left behind.

Pushing open the front door, he found Delilah's twisted frame draped over the mocha, high-backed leather chair in the foyer, and though he had made quite an impressive entrance, she barely stirred.

"You're late," grumbled Delilah through a wide yawn which twisted her angelic face. "She's leaving in two weeks. I hope you have a plan."

"Did she say where?" he asked as he rushed past her toward the stairs.

"All she would say is 'back home', wherever that is."

Detroit, he thought to himself, while racing up the stairs. Although Delilah had skillfully mended Joelle's physical wounds and returned the breath to her punctured lungs, she could do nothing to revive Joelle's broken heart. That was entirely up to Lucien to mend. And when he found himself standing outside their bedroom door, it suddenly occurred to him that fixing what he had broken, was the one thing beyond his scope of knowledge.

Joelle sat at the edge of the bed and stared blankly at her suitcase, wondering why it was still empty. More so, she wondered why she wasn't more eager to correct that problem. Perhaps part of the reason was that in just two week's time, she would be going home to the dregs of The Motor City and a life from which she had fought so hard to escape.

Perhaps the bigger reason was that, though Lucien had murdered her body, her heart never stopped beating his name and that pain had consumed her fully. But irrespective of her reluctance, she could stay no longer. Remaining in his home meant a more painful death, the death of her spirit. So, feeling obliterated by life, she kicked closed the lid to her suitcase, hurled it across the floor with a loud grunt, and turned on the television. And as she hung her head over the side of the bed, she wondered if, like with The Notebook, life might have a more amusing ending if experienced upside down.

After hearing her groans of frustration and the muted sounds of the television, Lucien opened the door and stood in the streams of light which poured in from the hallway. Dressed in a thin ivory nightgown, Joelle lay draped across their bed in a twist of sheets, as a kaleidoscope of colors spilled from the plasma and pranced across the shimmering fabric encasing her delightful figure. And for the first time in his many years, he found himself stammering.

"Forgive me Joelle... I... please, there are no words to express how..."

"Not this time," she interrupted, turning up the volume, "we're beyond salvage."

"Tell me what to do; I will happily oblige your demands."

"Leave," she sighed, "just go away."

"As you wish."

***

In the week since his return, Lucien had tried everything he could think of to win Joelle's favor. Pink peonies filled the bedroom every night; he bought her every vintage Zeppelin album he could find; he wrote letters of adoration and apology; and even stooped so low as to have Delilah plead forgiveness on his behalf. Ultimately, nothing worked and she remained steadfast in her commitment to leave.

On the very few occasions Lucien actually saw her, she merely hissed at him and beat a hasty retreat into the safety of the bedroom. Though she hadn't technically banned him from entering, it had become her sanctuary and it was obvious she needed for it to remain that way. So, despite his desire to be close to her, he tried his best to accommodate her need for distance and only spoke to her through the barricade of a closed door. But she almost never answered, and when she did, her words were doused in venom.

As she'd done every night for the past week, Joelle pulled a handful of peonies from the vase and plucked the petals from the plump blossoms, letting them float like snowflakes to the floor. It was mesmerizing, like watching the little flecks of white, drift around in a snow globe.

She'd had one once, with a tiny replica of the Empire State Building inside. When she turned five her father had given it to her for her birthday after a trip to New York but, when he died, her mother threw it against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. All that remained was a fractured building, its point missing and its base cracked, but she kept it safely tucked in the tiny zippered pocket of her purse. It was a reminder of what she left behind and a life to which she had never intended to return.

When nothing remained of the peonies but a few spiny green skeletons, she pulled the blankets over her head and felt the first wave of tears claim her lashes. All that life now promised was a relinquishment of hope and what felt like her only chance for something more than the nagging ache which had stolen her childhood. When her father died, he took with him every semblance of normalcy and feeling of family, leaving her with a mother who resented being burdened with a child. And that's what was waiting for her back home, a history of regret and selfish indignation.

Tonight, as Lucien stood outside the door in the hopes of seeing Joelle, he heard her mewling, and the fact that she despised him no longer mattered.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, rushing to the bedside.

"Nothing, it's fine, really."

"Joelle, please, tell me."

"I don't want to go home. Are you happy now?"

"Then stay."

"I can't."

Dissatisfied with her response, Lucien lay beside her and nestled his chin in the well of her neck. "Whatever your desire, you may have it."

"I want to go back to the beginning. I want a do-over."

"Then permit me to take you away from here, we can start anew."

"That's not the same thing Lucien, and you know that. I just can't do this anymore."

If this were truly meant to be the end, there seemed little point in refraining, and if their goodbye were genuinely imminent, he wanted to savor every last inch of her body before she left. But regardless of her resolve, until the door closed behind her, he vowed to remain steadfast in his efforts to change her mind, and tonight, he hoped, might lead him one step closer to that goal. Either way, he intended to offer her the greatest pleasure he was capable of providing, while enjoying her for as long as she would allow.

"Stay," he urged as he gingerly threaded his fingertips up the delicate curve of her thigh and slid her nightgown beyond the contours of her hips.

"Lucien I..."

"Joelle, please stay," pleadingly he whispered, brushing the ivory fabric from her back.

When she offered no response, Lucien traced soft circles around her calves until he reached her ankles, where he stopped to play with her feet. With whispering touches, he caressed her delicate arches, and ran his hands along her slender toes, stopping to admire the way the dark cherry polish popped against her pale skin.

"I implore you Joelle, stay with me," he appealed, moving his mouth across her alabaster shoulder and kissing down the hollow of her spine. "Allow me to atone."

Though her breathing quickened, no words emerged from her lips and so Lucien persisted, tickling his way back up her thighs and slipping his hands around her hips, gently rolling her over. Very tenderly, he swept his mouth across her neck, tasting her skin and breathing in her intoxicating fragrance, taking the opportunity to liberate her from the fetters of her gown.

"Lucien, what happened that night, it..."

"It will never happen again," he asserted as he tugged at the sheet she had deftly maneuvered between them. For a moment, she clutched tightly to its edges, but when his tongue traced lush, fluid belts around the arc of her breast, her grip loosened and he pulled it away.

After revealing the full splendor of her body, he found his mouth heavy with saliva as he took in her scent. Despite his desperation to taste her, to continue his journey and lose himself in the succulent warmth between her thighs, he managed to keep a respectful distance while still enjoying the flavor of her skin. To his amazement, she made no move to thwart his progress. He had expected to be harshly admonished for even attempting such a feat, but instead he felt her body relax beneath him.

Regardless of her simmering rage and feelings of betrayal, Joelle couldn't help but succumb to his touch. What's more, she was shocked that Lucien hadn't attempted to spread her legs. Had she not known better, she might believe he was simply enjoying the feel of her skin. But regardless of his intentions, his touch was nonetheless intoxicating.

By the time he had kissed his way to the curve of her jaw, she was at the point of explosion, and when his mouth reached hers, her steely resolve melted away and she was beyond rescue. With tremendous subtlety and unwavering confidence, his lips traced feathery kisses against hers. Joelle felt her fingertips against his sharp jaw, uncertain how they arrived there but disinclined to remove them, and when their eyes locked in a tacit stare, her mouth parted.

Through desperate lips, the velvety warmth of his tongue twined with hers and produced a warm flutter between her legs. In an act of reckless impetuosity, she raked her nails through his sleek hair and down the taut flesh of his neck, pulling him closer and crushing her mouth against his. Joelle found herself irrevocably lost in the voluptuous feel of his lips and knew that she was powerless to resist.

It was his kiss she had missed the most. There was something magical in the way their mouths melded, as if there were nothing in the world which fit together more perfectly. They were seamless and inseparable, like two halves of a whole reformed into one.

And that's when it happened; her stupid thighs parted and, ever the optimist, Lucien wasted no time sliding his body between them. Still he made no effort to go farther, instead, he kissed nearly every inch of her body, but never strayed into any naughty areas. It was sweet and respectful and absolutely delicious.

Joelle found her body reacting, betraying her brain, tempting him closer and welcoming him in. Violently she yanked at the buttons of his shirt and shoved the soft oyster fabric down his shoulders, exposing the sinuous lines of his chest. And when his bare flesh met hers, she felt the muscles of his abdomen tighten as his breathing quickened. 

Her legs folded tightly around the firm muscles of his back as he tasted her neck and, through the confines of his pants, she felt his massive erection against her hip. Forcefully her heels dug into his tight ass, directing him forward, as her hands worked feverishly to remove his trousers.

Stupid hand, she silently reprimanded as she found herself clutching his cock, guiding him toward her and sliding him along the glossy length of her eager, parted lips. Still he made no move to control the situation, letting her choose how much she wanted and when. Joelle clenched her legs around his waist to pull him inside and Lucien responded by very gently nudging the head of his cock between her moist lips, waiting for her next command.

Again his mouth found hers, even more desperately than before, as his ragged breath blew hot against her tongue. "I want you Joelle -- forever."

This time, she was unable to answer. What does one say to a statement like that, especially when they know it to be an absolute impossibility?

"One last time," she finally muttered, using her heels to push him deeper.

Only this time, there was no frenetic thrusting or twisting of bodies, there was no rough play or twinges of pain. This time, when he pushed inside, it was with a quiet, tender motion. And his eyes, burning a passionate, fiery, emerald, stayed locked on hers, as if pleading with her for a different answer.

"Stay," he uttered as he withdrew, just as quietly as when he slid inside.

There were no more words left to say, they had exhausted them all, so Joelle closed her eyes, breaking their stare and blocking the agony of his face, and simply tried to enjoy their final time together. With as much care and concern as before, she felt him push back in, the soft curve of his cock caressing her g-spot. His delicacy was beyond rapturous and her body shuddered as an unexpected orgasm stole her breath.

With her eyes tightly closed, she reached for his mouth, sweet and warm, and regardless of how hard she tried to control them, the tears broke through her sealed lids. First one wave and then another, they stormed across her cheekbones, losing themselves in the tangles of her hair. She felt his strong hands cup her face and the gentle touches of his fingers as he brushed them away. There was no fanfare, no conversation, just a peaceful understanding, followed by a sense of calm.

Lucien studied her face, a blend of ecstasy and heartache, and felt his blood pump faster through his veins, knowing he was solely responsible for both. But in his mind, what most solidified her commitment to leaving were not the words she spoke, but the fact that she could no longer bear to look at him. So, as she requested, he would make love to her one last time, hoping they were both wrong in their assessment of her resolve.

Softly he stroked himself inside, slowing when he felt her body tremble and prolonging her orgasm by easing himself deeper. Every movement was designed with her pleasure in mind. For the first time, he gave of himself fully and without reserve.

Lucien slid his hands beneath her ass, lifting her hips from the bed and letting her legs fall against his arms. He stared transfixed as she consumed him whole, each stroke coating his cock with her arousal. The throbbing of his flesh intensified as he watched her engulf him and, wanting to savor those final moments, he slowed again, desperate for them to remain that way forever.

With a sharp intake of breath, she contracted around him, tightening against his rigid, pulsing cock and bringing him to the very precipice of orgasm. Locked deep inside her, he paused, reclaiming his breath and quieting the building storm of urgency. If this was indeed meant to be their last time together, he wanted it to linger.

A raw, untamed snarl rumbled deep in his chest as Lucien teased the shaft of his dick from her pulsating walls and hastily replaced it with his fingers. He quickly found her g-spot and softly stroked his fingertips against it, watching her body react in a flurry of spasms as her hands grasped the head board, straining to push him deeper. A piercing gasp flooded her throat as her body twisted beneath him. Fighting to conceal her scream, her teeth sank sharply against her lip but she was unable to quell the surge of orgasm and, as she released against his fingers, a cutting trill shattered the air around them.

Joelle's arms flew from the headboard and wrapped around his neck, forcing his fingers from her as he struggled to catch himself. Hungrily, her mouth joined his, reckless and wanton. Lucien felt the raveling of desperation and pain in her very breath, which blew hot and hectic against his tongue. Though sublime, he could not help but notice the feeling of finality in it and found himself hesitating.

"Cum in me, I want to feel you inside me," she gushed, pushing him inside.

"May I taste you?" he asked, not yet prepared for their time to end.

"Yes," she relented, falling against the pillows.

It took boundless effort not to dive between her thighs, so with great restraint he slowly pulled from her and kissed and licked his way down her body, stopping to taste the flesh of her supple breasts. And finally, he felt Joelle's abdomen tremble beneath his hands as his mouth wrapped around her tender clit. Tonight his fingers would remain against her hips, as he had no desire to rush her to orgasm. Instead, he intended to enjoy her slowly.

Very delicately he thrummed his tongue against her engorged flesh, drawing her essence into his mouth and savoring the sweet nectar she readily offered. His lips encapsulated her clit, toying around its swollen edges with short bursts of tickling, vibrating strokes. When he felt the first pulsing waves of orgasm tear across her pelvis, he slowed his rhythm and delayed her release.

When she could abstain no longer, her back twisted in writhing orgasm and, as the muscles of her abdomen quivered beneath his hands, she clawed violently at his arms. But when the fluttering in her pelvis ceased, it was immediately replaced by a different sort of spasm.

"I love you," she eked out through a trammel of tears, "I love you."

"Forgive me," he soothed as he moved beside her and wrapped his arms around her waist. It took a few minutes, but eventually the tears waned and when Joelle was done wiping the remnants from her cheeks, she asked to feel him inside her once more.

Assenting to her request, he returned to her once again and for an hour he rode the line, wanting desperately to please himself, but needing Joelle to have all that she desired. She never spoke again and the only sounds which filled the room were the blending of their heavy breaths.

Lucien knew what Joelle wanted, he'd know all along, but for some reason, before tonight, it simply hadn't occurred to him how truly important it was to her. But during those moments of connection and tenderness, what surprised him most was how important it was to him too. Making love, he thought, must feel exactly like this. And even though he couldn't love her, he almost felt as if he did.

This was how she'd always imagined, how she'd dreamed of making love to Lucien. Not rushed or impatient, not crazy and impulsive, but slow and sensual, drawing out their moments and stringing them together in a blissful harmony. While she loved their frantic dalliances, the ones filled with voracious lust, she had always wanted to know him more intimately. It was heartbreaking to her that it took the decimation of all they had together to realize this fantasy.

With a quiet groan she felt his pace quicken as his cock throbbed inside her, followed by a flood of soothing heat which coursed through her pelvis. Desperately his mouth found hers with a kiss more intense than any he'd ever shared before. His hands returned to her face as his body collapsed against hers. And when the last twitches of his cock reverberated through her pelvis, it elicited a final eruption of orgasm from deep within her loins. 

It was only when Lucien pulled from her and withdrew his mouth that her eyes opened. "This doesn't change anything Lucien."

***

Once again, life was confusing. Everyone she trusted had, in some way, betrayed her, and yet she still wanted to believe that things could be different. But could they really? If the last six months had proven anything, they'd shown her that, despite love, some things simply couldn't be rectified. Like promises. So in desperation, Joelle picked up the phone and dialed the one person who was supposed to have a genetic obligation to be there for her. And even though she knew the response in advance of their conversation, she still prayed for something different.

"Where are the boxes you were supposed to send?"

"That's what I called about Mom, I didn't send them yet. I really need to talk to you."

"So talk."

"I'm confused, I don't want to leave but I don't think things are ever going to..."

"Well let me make this real simple for you then. It ain't love, he's just fucking you. Good lookin', rich guys can get any pussy they want and you're an idiot if you think he's really gonna keep some junkie whore skank around. Make the first move and cut bait before he kicks your sorry ass to the curb. Now ship your damn boxes and get on the plane."




The Cellar Ch. 05



"Right, okay. I'll see you next week then... thanks. Good..."

Joelle heard the receiver click and then nothing more.

"Bye."

The tears came again in ceaseless waves, only this time she was prepared for them and, this time, she charged into the shower and let the pelting water shield her agony. For a moment she wished Delilah hadn't come, that her life could have been snuffed out, the way it was intended to be. But more than anything, Joelle wished for a way to block the pain.

Rushing from the shower she pulled off her sodden clothes, rubbed herself down with a towel and redressed as quickly as she could. "Where are the keys?" she demanded as she rushed into the living room.

"What keys?" asked Delilah, peeking from between the pages of her book on Greek Mythology.

"To the car," Lucien answered before Joelle could spit out the words. "They are on the kitchen counter, why?"

"I'm going out."

"I see, just a quick fix?" he asked in that smug tone that made her want to whack him over the head with something heavy.

"Fuck you Lucien!" she thundered as she rushed toward the kitchen.

In a whirl of muted colors, she was over his shoulder and not a moment later, she found herself sprawled across the bed.

"Deal with it another way," he said as he walked out and closed the door.

"I fucking hate you!"

***

It was to be her very last afternoon at the house and, despite the agony of god's searing light, Lucien roused himself from bed and went to find her.

She was beautiful, standing in the resplendent glow of afternoon sun, the beads of light kissing the golden hues of her auburn hair. He watched plaintively from the mouth of the kitchen as she busied herself with an omelet, gently folding the edges over a mound of green peppers; her nightgown tightly hugging her glorious body as she moved about the stove.

"Are you going to come in or are you just going to just stand there staring?" she asked without looking away from the skillet.

"Joelle, is there anything I can do to win your forgiveness? Just tell me and I will gladly do it."

"Stop beating the shit out of me, there's a start."

"Done. What else?"

"Break it off with Annette and stop seeing other women."

"Joelle..."

"You know, I sound disturbingly like a battered woman. Please stop beating me, please stop fucking other women, please don't pledge eternity to someone else. Do you realize how pathetic that sounds? Do you know that if I ever heard another woman saying those things I'd be utterly repulsed? And yet here I am, ruler of planet stupid, queen of the morons, saying them right now, to you."

"You are not stupid."

"Then tell me you love me, tell me you'll break any promise in the world to be with me, tell me you'd never do anything to hurt me again, tell me your eternity will be spent with me. Can you tell me all of those things Lucien?"

"If those are the terms, then I will do all that you have asked of me, just afford me the time with which to accomplish it."

"You're a liar!"

"Joelle..." Lucien watched helplessly as she tossed the frying pan into the sink and rushed from the kitchen. Moments later he heard the bedroom door slam, promptly followed by the sound of her sobbing.

***

It appeared as though they might be doomed after all. Joelle's flight was due to leave first thing in the morning and despite all attempts to change her mind, there was still a small pile of luggage by the front door. Who could blame her really? She was right. She'd made so many sacrifices and he'd repaid her with pain and anguish. It was hardly a fair trade.

Lucien was really the sole beneficiary of their relationship. His rules were abided by with very little complaint; she surrendered herself to him at every whim and in whatever manner he chose; she had lived in his home with the knowledge of what took place within its walls and, most of all, she seemed to love him in spite of what he was.

Lucien stood in the open doorway to their bedroom for what felt like hours, watching her sleep. What a remarkable creature, he thought. Sexy and smart, beautiful and kind, spectacular in bed; and what was he? He was a beast.

Very gently he closed the door and walked to the bed, pulling the clothes from his body, and taking his place beside her. "Joelle," he beckoned her awake, "Joelle."

"Hmmm?" she groaned into the pillow.

"Marry me Joelle," whisperingly he pleaded.

"Shut up, you're already engaged and I'm not Mormon."

The constant pestering was getting a little annoying. But, if truth be told, the reason it was becoming increasingly annoying was because, with each passing day, she found it harder to tell him no.

"Marry me. I will not going to stop asking until you say yes."

"You're going to give yourself laryngitis."

"I'll live, marry me," he insisted, tugging at her pillow.

"Marry you? Like in a church with a priest and a white dress, saying the Lord's prayer and all that?"

"If that is what it took, then yes."

"Hmmm. I might just do it for the sheer joy of watching you squirm."

"Pick a day and I will be there."

"Day? You mean like during the daytime?"

"Yes, for you I would even suffer that."

Joelle rolled onto her back and stared into his eyes. "You're actually serious, aren't you?"

"Deadly."

"Huh. And what about Annette? How exactly would you reconcile that?"

"Perhaps I can make some inquiries; there are several -- resources at my disposal, with any luck I may be able to find a solution. All you need to do is say yes and I will tend to the details."

"No, I'm not marrying you, you moron."

"Fine, I will concede, but only if you agree to stay with me Joelle."

"No." She rolled onto her stomach again and shoved a pillow over her head. Stupid demon, she thought, who the hell was he to come in and ask ridiculously absurd questions like that? Marry him? Demonic idiots don't get married. They run around and fuck up people's lives, they don't dabble in wedded bliss.

Why couldn't she have picked some normal schlump named Bob who punched a clock every day? How'd she wind up with Lucien, The Dark Lord of Orgyville? And she didn't just pick him, she loved him.

"What are you thinking about?" Lucien asked, slipping the sheet from her back and drawing a finger up her spine.

"Whether there's still a seventy two hour hold when you try to kill yourself."

"What were you really thinking about?" he prodded, pulling the pillow away.

"I was thinking about how utterly insane I am for being here with you right now. I was thinking that I should find an accountant named Bob, so I can have two point four kids and a Volvo and a dog named Sparky. And I was thinking about how none of that can ever happen because my fucked up ass is so stupidly in love with you."

"I think your ass is perfect," he said, kissing the small of her back.

"Oh shut up."

Lucien did shut up, but promptly returned to his skin play, kissing her back and tracing his fingertips across her shoulder.

"I'm on to you Lucien, this is exactly what happened the last time and I'm not falling for it again. You had your goodbye fuck, you don't get another."

Silence. That jerk.

With a sharp gasp, she found herself firmly planted atop his pelvis, his full length impaling her. She wasn't even certain how the whole thing happened. In one moment she was lying on her stomach, trying to ignore his sensual kisses and skillful fingers, and in the next, she was filled with his turgid cock. What was even more disturbing was that she had no desire for it to be any other way.

"Joelle, I need you, stay."

"No, Lucien I..."

As he moved to adjust her position, Joelle lost herself in the feel of him inside her. It was the first time he'd ever let her on top and the very first time he'd relinquished complete control. In that moment, more than anything, she wanted to say yes. Yes, she would stay with him forever, for as long as his forever was, to be bound to him and forgo a human existence. But as much as she wanted to say the word, and as simple a word as it was, she simply couldn't. So instead, she intended to make love to him for the last time -- again.

Slowly, she pulled him out and worked him back in, enjoying the feel of every inch, as she patiently consumed him. Though his hands lay gently against her waist, he made no move to direct her and seemed immersed in the feeling.

Her eyes locked on his, sultry and wanton. "Did you miss fucking me?"

"More than you can imagine," he hissed through clenched teeth, his breathing ragged.

Joelle jerked her hips and thrust him inside, eliciting a throaty growl. "Does your cock feel good inside me?"

"Euphoric," his voice hitched.

She slowly coaxed him out and left him to linger there, just inches from her hot slit. "Then why?" she asked as she lay across his chest.

"Joelle, I never intended... I tried everything... you have to believe it was never my intention to harm you."

"You killed me, you didn't 'harm' me."

"I am painfully aware of that. If sparing you that pain were within my power, even if it meant the forfeiture of my own life, I would gladly do it."

"Do you want to keep fucking me Lucien?" Joelle taunted him, sliding her clit the length on his shaft, covering its entire girth with the juices he so desperately desired. And when he appeared on the verge of explosion she let him probe the very edges of her vulva.

"Yes," he growled, "please."

"Do you swear on everything you hold sacred, on your very life, do you swear on your soul, nothing like that will ever happen again?" As the words spilled from her lips, she could hardly believe she was saying them.

"I swear to you Joelle."

Joelle ground her hips against him, rolling his cock between her moist thighs before sliding her clit down his shaft again.

"I want you to say it Lucien."

"Joelle, I swear on my marker, the one object which tethers my human form to this world, the only instrument which allows my soul the freedom from eternal imprisonment, that I will never again harm you. Should I fail in that promise, you may have it to do with as you please."

"Thank you."

Joelle wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him against her chest, sliding him inside as she fervidly tasted his mouth. He groaned as she reached the base of his cock and slowly eased herself off. She played with him gently, softly, letting him reach her core and slowly teasing him back out.

She enjoyed him endlessly, slowing when he seemed close to coming, quickening when she wanted to. And he let her have total control, without hesitation, seeming to enjoy her power as much as she.

Joelle finally let him enjoy his release and held him deep inside as his body jerked between her thighs, a sharp groan pouring from his lips.

"That was... you were... I am amazed," he whispered as she lay across his chest, keeping him trapped inside.

"Do you love me?" she asked seriously.

"No."

"No?" she snapped incredulously.

"Love is a privilege not extended to us. Perhaps your... perhaps He finds it disagreeable." Lucien jerked his thumb in the air and curled his lip.

"So you can't love me? That's sounds rather stupid. Did you miss me when you were gone?"

"Yes."

"And did you think about me all the time?"

"Every moment."

"And do you feel terrible when I'm hurt, or sad, or sick, or angry?"

"Yes, yes, yes and -- maybe, that all depends on whether or not you are angry with me."

"Okay, fine. So repeat after me," she cooed, "I..."

"I," he mirrored.

"Love..."

"Love."

"You..."

"You."

"Now say them all together -- I love you."

"I love you." He winced as if the sky might fall in on him.

"See, no lightning, no crash of thunder, everything's okay. I don't think God would mind at all if you loved me. In fact, I think he'd quite enjoy it."

"I see. Perhaps I am in more trouble than I had originally suspected."

"I love you Lucien."

He paused and considered her words. "It is entirely plausible that I may love you as well."

"I'll take it for now," she scowled.

Joelle draped like a blanket across him, seeming unwilling or unable to move and if it were possible to forgo all necessities and spend eternity beneath her, he would gladly make the sacrifice. But just as he began to slip fully into this new found state of bliss, she said the name he resented most.

"I think Annette loves you," Joelle whispered.

"I don't see what bearing that has on the matter, her feelings are inconsequential to me. As a matter of fact, if she holds me to our accord it will most certainly cause my feelings of irritation to change to absolute loathing. I hardly see the payoff." 

"Love is foolish and impulsive, but most of all, love is blind. Just the fact that I'm here with you now, more than proves that theory."

"I see your point."

***

When Annette discovered Joelle hadn't moved back to Detroit, as she had promised to do, the pressure mounted and Lucien found himself juggling excuses in an attempt to buy himself more time.

With every passing day, her intensity and impatience grew. She was no idiot, with Joelle still at the house and Lucien's increasingly pathetic excuses, it was clear to see that he was merely stalling for time. He'd attempted to barter, offering her other options which would bring about the same result, but it seemed as though Joelle was correct in her assessment. It appeared that Annette sought more than eternity; she sought an unbreakable bond with him.

Lucien's only hope, his only option left, was the intervention of an Elder, though this was tricky business. The Ancients were far more savvy and sophisticated, and they were also masters of manipulation. Show too much of your hand and you risked losing it all, show too little and any deal you attempted to make was off the table. Negotiating with another of his ilk required precision and a skillful tongue, negotiating with an Elder required a level of dissociation and trickery that was nearly impossible to pull off successfully. But irrespective of his hesitation, his promise to Joelle had been cast and he intended to satisfy it.

Reluctantly, Lucien made his way into the cellar and took his place upon the cathedra. Within a tick, a searing cold enveloped him and he had crossed over into a realm devoid of color and filled with the stench of decay. An arched gateway loomed on the empty, monochrome horizon, its thick stone pillars adorned with gnarled limbs, twisted fingers and screaming mouths. A quick shudder consumed his body as he stepped forward and pushed through the gate, eager to end his journey to find a messenger.

"Welcome my friend!" a shrill voice greeted him as the gate slammed shut.

"Charming," Lucien growled at the grotesque creature which had wrapped itself around his feet and stared back with unblinking, obsidian eyes.

"There is a message you would like for me to deliver?" It stroked like a cat against his leg and Lucien was overwhelmed by a desire to kick it.

"I require a meeting."

"Consider it done my liege."

With the closure of his lids, he felt the chill slip away, replaced by the warm, dry heat of the cellar enveloping his body. When his eyes opened, the color of life returned and he released the air he had held hostage in his lungs, breathing in the earthy scents of home.

For the next several days, Lucien forewent the pleasures which awaited him in the bedroom and remained in the confines of the cellar. On the sixth day, he finally relented and returned to Joelle's side, resigned to the fact that salvation might not come in the form of an Elder. But what would come next, he had no idea and he struggled with how to keep all of the promises he was now tethered to.

***

A pounding at the front door startled Joelle from her nap, spilling her from the couch. "Damn it!" she snapped as she crawled to her feet and rushed to the door, flinging it open.

"Lucien please," the smiling stranger asked from just beyond the open door. He was a handsome man, very refined and impeccably dressed, in a grey wool, three piece suit and thin, rimmed glasses. Since he was far too elegant to be a salesman and way too handsome, she assumed he was demon, in daylight no less.

"He's not up yet. Can I help you?"

"My apologies, my name is Barbas. Lucien has called on me to visit with him," he said in a voice as rich as velvet. Quickly he gathered her hand and kissed it.

"Please come in," Joelle stumbled, pushing open the door.

Barbas stepped in and strolled casually to the suede sofa in the living room. "Lucien's home is much lovelier than I remember, or perhaps it is the new addition." Barbas sank into the lush chestnut sofa, his eyes never leaving Joelle.

"Can I offer you some coffee? Maybe something to eat?"

"Thank you, no, I am quite satisfied. Please, come sit with me." Barbas motioned to the tiny square of available sofa beside him. "It seems forever since I have visited with my dear friend Lucien. Please, do tell me, how is he fairing?"

"He's well," Joelle offered reluctantly.

"I assume you to be a consort of some kind?"

"Just acquaintances," she offered.

"I see, pity."

Joelle tried her best to duck and weave the more probing questions, keeping her answers as short and succinct as possible. When it came to questions about their relationship, Joelle thought it best to make it appear as benign as possible. 

It seemed as though the interrogation would go on forever and, just as she had begun to really sweat, she heard the bedroom door slam shut.

"Go upstairs Joelle!" Lucien snarled as he rushed down the stairs.

"It appears as though we have riled the beast," Barbas laughed as he grasped Joelle's hand, pulling it to his pursed lips. "My lady, it was an honor."

"It was very nice to meet you," Joelle offered, clutching her stomach as a wave of nausea filled her throat.

Lucien grabbed her tightly by the arm and dragged her up the stairs, slamming closed the bedroom door as soon as they were inside.

"What did you tell him?"

"What? I didn't tell him anything! What are you talking about?"

"I am dreadfully sorry. Of course you didn't."

"What's going on?"

"Barbas is my -- superior, for lack of a better word."

"You could have told me he was coming, warned me or something. You should have seen me tap dancing down there, it was ridiculous."

"My apologies, I had given up on his response. I must meet with him." Lucien pulled her in for a quick kiss and flew from the room, the taste of her mouth still lingered heavy on his tongue as he took a seat across from Barbas.

"Please accept my apologies for not greeting you personally. Had I known you were coming during daylight hours I certainly would have availed myself."

"Quite alright, I had a splendid visit with your charming consort."

"She is no consort, she is merely a plaything."

"Ah, I see. Perhaps you would be wise to advise her of that."

"There is no need, her feelings are of no concern to me."

"Well, that certainly clarifies the matter. Shall we get to the business of your request?" Barbas asked, sliding deep into the comfort of the suede sofa and folding has hands neatly across his knee.

"Please."

Lucien tactfully, and with cautious explanation, revealed the nature of his dilemma. Though he divulged nothing more than a desire to break from Annette, he sensed Barbas' curiosity flare.

"You seek my help Lucien and so I will expect a return on my investment." Barbas smiled wickedly.

"What is it you require?" Lucien asked.

"I would very much like to know what makes this Joelle so special to you."

"She is -- very satisfying, though I would hasten to call her 'special'."

"So you have no feelings for her?" Barbas eyed him suspiciously.

"Other than pleasure, I have none."

"Good, then I too expect to find her very satisfying." Barbas' smile widened.




The Cellar Ch. 05



"I don't share," Lucien snarled.

"Is she bound to you?"

"You are already aware that she is not bound to me."

"Then I see no problem." Barbas rose swiftly and turned toward the stairs. "No need to direct me, I believe I remember the way to your guest quarters. I expect she will be in shortly?"

"She will have no want for you," Lucien bellowed after him.

"I think we are both very well aware of how little that matters."

Seething, Lucien felt his lip curl as he watched Barbas disappear up the staircase, and when the door closed, he rushed to the bedroom.

"Pack your things," Lucien blurted as he rushed through the door.

"Why? What are you doing?" she asked, startled to see him pulling her clothes from the armoire. "Lucien! Stop! What's going on?"

"He is requiring your presence in my spare bedroom and he is not looking to have a chat with you."

"Oh, so when can I come back?"

"You can't."

"Never? After everything you put me through? You're telling me I can't come back?"

"Never."

"And you?"

"I will think of you every day."

"Lucien, no." She grabbed his arm. "I'll do it; I'll close my eyes and just do it. I know how to detach. Besides, how bad could it be?" she forced an uncomfortable laugh.

"Bad. Very, very bad," he insisted, with desperate eyes.

"Lucien, will it keep me here with you?"

"Theoretically... maybe... yes, in all likelihood."

"Then there's no need for discussion, I'll do what he's asking."

She kissed him on the cheek and slipped quickly from the room before he had a chance to consider the consequences.

Joelle shuffled down the hall and pushed open the door, slipping inside. "I'm here," she whispered in a shaky voice.

"Wonderful news. I knew Lucien would not let me down," he cackled. "You can remove your clothes and wait for me on the bed, I shan't be a minute."

"You can do this," she mumbled under her breath as she slipped from her clothes and lay prone on the bed, unable to look at his face as he entered the room.

The feel of his hands along the curve of her thigh sent a wave of panic through her body. Slowly and methodically, he wove his hands down her legs, grasping her ankles tightly and abruptly flipping her over.

"I think I'll save that position for later," said Barbas in a smiling voice, as he tightening his grip. "I am afraid I'm going to have to ask you to open your eyes as well."

With tremendous force, he yanked open her legs and stared into her eyes. Nearly every thought slipped from her mind, leaving only Barbas' sensual touch. It felt as though what was about to happen was the most natural thing in the world.

All fear and anxiety slipped into the ether and she felt her knees fall away, beckoning him inside. It took less than a moment for him to respond and he moved easily between her parted legs, resting his turgid cock against the furrow of her hungry cunt.

"Fuck me," she demanded as she gazed at his magnificent gift.

There was no gentle teasing, no sensual play, just momentary pangs of pain, followed by extraordinary pleasure. Barbas' skills bested any she'd ever known and she thrust her hips, enjoying the full ecstasy of what he offered. When he finally freed her ankles she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper still.

Barbas grabbed her waist and wedged himself inside, rocking his hips until she cried in delight. With his full length he impaled her, over and over, lifting her ass from the bed and sinking farther still.

"Fuck me!" she screamed, unable to contain her pleasure. "Fuck me harder!"

"Joelle, have you ever felt such pleasure before?"

"Never," she gushed.

He rolled his hips and paused before plunging deep into core. "Tell me you want none other," he purred, pulling his cock from her.

"I never want another," she squealed. "Put it back in, please," she pleaded. "Fuck me, do it," she demanded, "fuck me!"

"Do you want me inside you for all eternity," he purred again.

"Yes, yes! Please! Fuck me already, don't make me beg anymore! I want you, fuck me forever!"

"Nicely done." Barbas pulled her from the bed and sat her on the vanity, spreading her legs to the point of pain. Tauntingly, he toyed around the edges of her pussy with the head of his dick, slipping it in and quickly pulling it away as her excitement grew.

"Barbas, please I want to feel your cock in me, I want to feel you fucking me, slide it in, fuck my pussy Barbas, fuck me." Her hands fumbled to pull him inside, using her legs to draw him closer.

"On your knees," he demanded, pushing her to floor and shoving the head of his cock against her lips.

Without hesitation she obliged, wrapping her mouth around his thick shaft and rolling her tongue across the steep ridges of the glans. Eager to feel every inch inside her mouth, Joelle sank her nails into his hips and pulled him closer. Barbas responded immediately, seizing clumps of her hair and thrusting his cock into her mouth and down the back of her throat, causing her to gag. Though her throat fought against the violation; her mouth continued to work him in, wrapping tightly around his shaft and sucking eagerly at its stocky base.

Joelle felt him thicken as the throbbing of his shaft intensified. Ferociously she sucked at his pulsing flesh as his orgasm mounted, wanting to feel the explosion of his seed filling her mouth. With a final, brutal thrust, she felt his stunning cock slip down her throat and with a primal growl, he came. His bitter, acidic seed burned as it spilled down her throat and yet thirstily she swallowed, sucking every last drop from the head of his cock.

Still erect, Barbas pulled her from the floor and tossed her against the vanity, his eyes recapturing her gaze as he pushed her in front of the mirror. Stepping behind her, she felt his thick shaft slide against her clit, sending a wave of orgasm through her pelvis and she rolled her hips, offering him better advantage of her quivering flesh.

When he plunged back in it was as if the world simply ceased to spin, as if everything washed into a sea of nothingness and all that remained was his cock inside her. Joelle slammed her ass against his pelvis, matching his every stroke. But just then, as his eyes closed, she saw him for who he really was and screamed in horror.

His shimmering skin, black as onyx, seemed to capture the sun's rays and snuff its very essence from the room. Voluted horns crowned his brow like swirling wisps of coal smoke and his luxuriant hair was gone, replaced by scaly nubbles. And when his red eyes, the color of molten lava, rested upon hers, it felt as if they bore a hole straight through her heart.

"Lucien!" she screamed in desperation, the memories and images and emotions, flooding back into her mind. "Lucien, please!"

When she struggled to get away, Barbas pulled her from the vanity and tossed her back onto the bed. Joelle felt a wave of paralysis consume her muscles, locking them in place. Her eyes fell to the scaly, coarse cock which slammed inside her aching pussy, each stroke burning and tearing at her tender flesh. With a broad smile, Barbas pulled from her and sank to the floor, drawing his mouth against her clit and sliding his forked tongue inside her. 

As desperately as she tried to close her eyes, they remained fixed on Barbas' mouth as his thickening tongue slithered inside. Horrified, she felt it twisting and writhing deep within her core, like a snake. A piercing scream filled her throat as it pounded painfully against her cervix. Joelle felt her body weaken and bleakness consume her, as if a layer of her soul had been stripped away. All that was light now felt dark and she began to slip away.

Mercifully, Barbas allowed her to close her eyes but when a new sensation filled her, she instinctively opened them again. This time, he was no longer Barbas at all, he was Carl, her short-term stepfather, the same man who had stolen her virginity. And she screamed again as his corpulent, sweaty body moved between her legs.

Lucien rushed from the house, unable to bear the sounds of her torment. He knew what Barbas was doing, torturing him, by torturing her. It was clear that, despite his assurances to the contrary, Barbas understood the depth of his feelings for Joelle. Barbas knew that listening to her vacillate between absolute ecstasy and sheer terror would collapse him. And it did, completely and without question. But saving her was beyond question, Barbas would strike him down before he even entered the room, and the penalty inflicted upon her would be far greater.

Despite the rising sun, Lucien stormed the grounds for hours, violently taking out his rage on the local plant life, downing several large trees before shattering them into sprays of sawdust. But when the sun began to set and her screams still echoed throughout the house, his rage could no longer be tempered. It wasn't enough to destroy nature, he wanted to kill something, to share with someone else the terror Joelle felt.

"John Franklin Ballows!" Lucien roared as he rushed for the car. "714 Forest Park Drive."

This time it was irrelevant that this man John had a family; perhaps that was something he should have considered before raping the girlfriend of a servant of Lucifer.

Lucien regarded John with a broad smile as he walked up the driveway. "Do you remember me John?" he asked pleasantly, a wicked smile playing against his face.

"Should I?" John asked, pulling his briefcase from the backseat of his shiny new SUV.

"We met very briefly, in the motel room of a woman you defiled. I will not speak her name as you do not deserve the privilege of hearing it."

"Jo..."

"Ah!" Lucien interrupted, "I would ask that you not speak it either, as the thought of it rolling off your tongue makes me ill."

"What do you want?" John demanded.

Lucien stepped in and wrapped his hand around John's neck.

"John, my employer has bestowed upon me certain privileges. Eternal life, powers of persuasion, the strength of a god, the basics. He has also afforded me the precious gift of vengeance without sanctions. I fear no harm of retribution, there is no prison which could house me, and my soul is already damned. So tonight John, you and I are going to discuss the meaning of life."

***

Regardless of Joelle's pleas and tears, Barbas would not release her. Her agony seemed to merely spur him on. He toyed with her for hours, bringing her to the very heights of euphoria before letting her crash into the depths of despair. It delighted him to watch her suffer. And when he was done, he tossed a blanket over her wilted body and left her to writhe in agony.

"Lucien, it was lovely to see you again," Barbas smiled as he descended the stairs. "My sincerest apologies for having worn out your concubine, I have left her in repose upon the bed. She was quite good -- though I have had better."

"You owe me something in return," Lucien roared.

"Certainly I do, how rude of me. A tat for her tit, so to speak," he laughed. "Sadly, it is with my deepest regret that I must inform you that your accord is unbreakable -- unless of course you would care to barter. Give Joelle to me and I will see to it personally."

"I see," Lucien snarled, "thank you for your generous offer, however, I think we will pass."

"Pity." He shrugged. "I am truly sorry I could not be of more service to you. But I do so look forward to our next visit together."

"Quite alright, it was a pleasure seeing you again."

"Lucien please, the pleasure was entirely mine." Barbas smiled wickedly, closing the door behind him.

"Fucker," he growled, slamming his first through the marble pillar beside the door. But as soon as the rage was exhausted on the stone, his mind turned immediately to Joelle and he raced up the stairs to see her. "Are you alright?" Lucien asked as he sat beside Joelle on the bed, Barbas' putrid stench coating her body.

"Get me out of this bed!" she screamed, her voice trembling.

"Of course." Lucien pulled her from beneath the covers, revealing the true extent of the vile malodor. Worse still were the severe bruises which coated her body and the sickly yellowing of her skin. "May I draw you a bath?"

"A shower." She sunk her head under his chin as a deluge of tears spilled across her cheeks.

"I am so very sorry Joelle," Lucien muttered as her tears stained his shirt. "I should never have permitted you to give yourself to him."

"How many hours?"

"Joelle, I don't think..."

"How many hours!" she screamed.

"Twenty two," he muttered, feeling her body grow limp between his arms.

Lucien sat with her in the shower as the warm, soothing water streamed across her body. Diligently he inspected her skin for any sign of Barbas' marker and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none. He took his time washing her, making certain every centimeter of her bruised flesh was lathered in soap. The rage percolated in his veins when she screamed, as the soap streamed between her legs, and he beat his fist into the wall until the tiles crumbled.

When satisfied that all traces of Barbas' filth was removed from the loveliness of her body, he wrapped her in his robe and slipped her beneath the covers of their bed, where she lay crying.

"Do you look like him?"

"No," he growled, "not exactly."

"I need to see," she muttered.

"This may not be the best time to..."

"I need to see!"

"Certainly."

Joelle watched Lucien pull from the bed and peel the clothes from his body, dropping them in a pile at his feet. She took in every beautiful, perfect inch of him before closing her eyes and committing that vision to memory. "Tell me when you're ready."

"I will never be ready, but you may open your eyes."

Very slowly she released her lids and set her eyes on his transformed figure. "Oh god, Lucien... what... oh god."

Two fanned wings, as black as night, extended the length of the room. A pair of helical horns crowned his brow, replacing his lovely raven hair, their apex reaching nearly a foot above his head and cascaded around his jaw, coming to an end just above his shoulders. His face, however, looked the same except that the edges and angles were more severe and his skin bore a strange, almost ridged texture. Gone were the sharp green eyes she had grown to love, replaced by ebony spheres.

Lucien now towered over the bed, his normal six foot, three inch frame had almost doubled in size and his sinuous, sleek musculature was now rigid and extreme in their accentuation. Joelle crawled to the edge of the bed, despite the tremors in her muscles, and extended her hand to touch his now shimmering, russet skin.

"I will understand if this alters your feelings toward me."

"You're still beautiful," she marveled, "different, but beautiful. Will you kiss me?"

Very cautiously, Lucien approached the bed, until the tips of Joelle's fingers touched his stomach. For a moment, she withdrew her hand as she recognized the extreme temperature of his skin. Though not hot enough to burn, it was certainly more than a little startling. But within a moment, her fingers returned to his flesh and she took her time touching and examining him.

Joelle grasped his hand and pulled him closer, drawing him toward the bed. As Lucien furled his wings, he sank to the floor at her feet and felt her arms wrap around his neck. Her mouth met his, softly at first and then more urgently, but suddenly she froze, and her body tensed to the point of absolute rigor. Without warning, she jerked away and covered her mouth as if concealing a gag.

"I have frightened you," he assessed, quickly resuming his normal state.

"No," she squeaked as tears began to fill her eyes, "I don't know what's wrong, I feel sick... strange, like I've done something terrible, something awful. I can't explain it."

"Go to sleep, you must be exhausted."

For the next several hours, Joelle grew sicker. A cold sweat coated her skin and, though she could not explain why, she cried uncontrollably. In an effort to warm her flesh, Lucien slowly peeled the robe from her body and settled in against the bare flesh of her quivering back. Finally the tears stopped and her breathing slowed as she drifted off to sleep.

Joelle slept for hours and, though he ached of hunger, he could not bear to part with her, nor could he ask her to give of herself. Barbas had decimated her, and it would take her many days to recover all that he had stolen from her.

When night crept across the sky for the third time and still she had not stirred, it suddenly occurred to him that Barbas had taken more than a piece of her soul, he had stolen from her a promise. The illness, the overwhelming sickness she felt, and her inability to recover herself more quickly, all pointed to a theft of some kind. But what Barbas had requested of her was unclear, though Lucien could only imagine it was something that would torture them both.

Certain that Joelle would have no recollection of any commitment she made while entranced, he quietly slipped from the bed and phoned Delilah. "I need you to come here right now," he insisted without preamble.

Nearly an hour later, the flash of headlights bouncing up the drive sent him bolting from the house. Delilah's car had barely slowed to a stop as he pulled open her door.

"Take care of her and your debt will be repaid," he demanded.

"As you command, Lord Luke." Delilah smiled as he rushed into the darkness.

***

"He's gone again," Joelle assessed as she spied Delilah perched in the windowsill.

"That boy is very impulsive, no doubt he is off doing something crazy."

"No doubt," she murmured, "did he say where he was going?"

"Nope, not a peep. So tell me, what has him going so insane these days?"

Joelle described the situation in as much detail as she was privy to, including the unpleasant rendezvous with Barbas, and the unfortunate state of their situation. With thoughtful eyes, Delilah consumed the tale with rapt focus.

"I see, so then there's no doubt he is off doing something utterly foolish."

"How long have you known him?" Joelle asked.

"I stopped keeping track a few hundred years ago, I'd say turn of the millennium -- not this one of course."

"Of course," she giggled. "Are you like him? Like a Succubus?"

"No, definitely not!" Delilah roared.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Joelle prostrated, her shoulders slouching.

"My apologies, after all these centuries it's still a touchy subject," Delilah offered sympathetically. "No -- I am Nephilim." She turned quickly and pulled the shirt past her shoulders. "See?"

Joelle looked on in shock as the tiny, jagged remains of two wings slipped from beneath her shoulder blades.

"So what happened?"

"Just a little falling out. Generally speaking, we tend not to do so well down here, so when I ran across Luke, he did me a solid and spoke with the big guy downstairs. You know it's very hard to get an audience with him." Delilah smiled.

"I can image." She shuddered. "What is Lucien like? I mean, I know him as something different than you, but what's he like out there in the world, when he isn't with me?"

"Well, he's stoic mostly. Very calculated and methodical, a wee bit scary. But I've seen him do some remarkable things from time to time, they're curious creatures, don't you think?"

"Yeah, they are. So what has he done that's so remarkable?"

"He loves you. I'd say that's pretty remarkable."

*

*** For those of you following the story, my apologies for taking so long to post Chapter Five, I had intended to get it in much quicker, but life (and a vacation) got in the way. Chapter Six - The Finale, will be out shortly as it's already near completion. A special thanks to all who left feedback or emailed me, you keeping me plugging away. *** 



The Cellar Ch. 06



Unable to tell Joelle that her sacrifice had been in vain and that Barbas had tricked them both, Lucien had fled the house under the cover of night in search of aid. In a final act of desperation, he sought the succor of a councilman. But all of his efforts were for naught and after days of fruitless searching, he had returned home. This had been yet another failed attempt to salvage a relationship which now seemed demonstrably doomed. And, as he trudged his way up the stairs with a heavily burdened heart, he knew that whatever time they had left would have to last him an eternity.

"Where did you go?" Joelle asked as Lucien stepped through their bedroom door.

"To find Asmodeus," plaintively he offered.

"Who's that?"

"One of the seven councilmen, in addition to being the proprietor of lust."

"I see, so did you find him?"

"Unfortunately, no."

Reluctant to use another messenger for fear that Barbas would intercept, Lucien set about his own search. His travels had taken him to China, Denmark and finally Argentina, but he always seemed to be one step behind Asmodeus. So, feeling grossly overwhelmed and defeated, he decided to come home in the hopes that being with Joelle would soothe his frazzled mind.

"It didn't work, did it?" asked Joelle, her voice now thick with despair. "That's why you left."

Lucien didn't need to ask a clarifying question, it was obvious what she was referring to and he responded with a heavy heart. "No Joelle, it did not work."

"So I screwed that repulsive beast for nothing?" she squeaked through her tear-clogged throat.

"You are still here with me." Lucien slipped onto the bed beside Joelle and played against her delicious skin in an effort to calm her.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed.

"Joelle, I am terribly sorry. Please give me more time," he soothed, before gliding his mouth along the fluid lines of her neck.

"Stop!" she shrieked, scrambling across the bed. "Stop touching me, it burns!"

"It burns?"

"Yes, you're burning me!"

"Barbas," he snarled, watching in horror as her skin began to redden and swell. Lucien rushed to the bathroom and whipped a hand towel from the brass ring beside the sink, then ran it under the coldest water the faucet would allow. Returning to the bed, he pressed the cool cloth against her blistering skin and carefully extracted his hand as she moved to take it.

"What does this mean?" she blurted, attempting to catch her breath. "I'm not bound to him, am I?"

"Not in the true sense, Barbas is too selfish for that, but clearly you have promised yourself to him."

So this was what Barbas had taken from her. There was simply no other explanation. From the moment he left their bedroom, four nights prior, it was evident that Barbas had stolen from her a promise and that it was taken during a time when she could offer no protest. But until tonight, he was unaware that what she had promised, was herself.

"I never did that!"

"Not that you recall," he sighed as he collapsed against the bed.

"Well that's just awesome, so basically nothing has worked! We're fucking stranded in this stupid mess together and I can't make love to you -- I can't even touch you! So now tell me how it's going to be alright! Go ahead, tell me!" she screamed before storming out of the bedroom.

It's not going to be alright, Lucien thought, pulling a pillow over his face.

Several minutes later Joelle returned and apologized for her outburst, but she was right. He should have let her go the very first time they had become separated. She was doing well back then, despite her living conditions, and it seemed as if she had reclaimed her life and was moving forward. But he couldn't resist her and couldn't leave her alone, so he pursued. And ever since, it had been one tragic calamity after another.

***

Joelle stepped from the shower and wrapped Lucien's robe around her body. For the first few days the scent of his skin enveloping hers had satisfied her ache, but as time passed she could no longer bear the pain of not touching him, and the last few weeks had been absolute torture. They had tried several times, using a number of different methods, but each ended in agony and, ever since, he hadn't come within ten feet of her.

To add insult to injury, he had moved from their bedroom and back into the cellar, not wanting to run the risk of accidently touching her in his sleep. So this was to be their fate until a solution was found. But with each passing day, that seemed less and less likely.

"Hey, come sit." Delilah patted the empty sliver of bed between her legs. "I want to braid your hair."

Joelle winced as Lucien hastened his departure from the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. She simply stood there, prepared to run and leap into his arms, but she knew he'd never allow it. And, as if in response to her thoughts, he cringed and moved himself farther away. It took a deep sigh and a prodding look from him to uproot her from the spot to which she had been anchored. Grudgingly, she pulled the towel from her hair, shuffled dejectedly across the room and plopped between Delilah's legs.

"So, I was thinking that maybe I could go talk to Barb... you know, that guy. He's not my boss, perhaps he'd be more willing to hear me out," Delilah offered as she swept a brush through Joelle's hair.

"No!" Joelle and Lucien thundered in unison.

"Okay, it was just a thought."

"Ouch!" Joelle winced as she grabbed Delilah's wrist.

"Delilah!" Lucien roared.

"Oops, sorry," tweeted Delilah.

"No, it's okay, I just haven't had my hair braided since I was about six. I forgot how much tugging was involved."

Lucien looked on in amazement. How had he not noticed it before? How oblivious could one creature be? Delilah could touch her, he couldn't, but Delilah could. He watched in awe as she swept her fingers through Joelle's hair, delicately tending to the tiny wisps that fells across her face and sweeping up the strands from against her neck.

Without a wink of consideration, he stormed over to Delilah and grabbed her arm, yanking her from the bed. "Outside, right now!" he growled, dragging her struggling body behind him.

"Hey! You can't just push me around like that you big bully!" she hissed, breaking his hold. "It's not like I meant to hurt her."

"Make love to her," Lucien blurted as they reached the end of the hallway.

"What?" asked Delilah in marked shock.

"Make love to her and for once I will owe you."

"Women aren't exactly my forte Lucien," she giggled.

"I will walk you through it."

"You're serious?"

"Absolutely."

Delilah stood absolutely still, inspecting Lucien's face for any sign of mischief. Finding none, she relented. "You'd have to hex her, I wouldn't want her to know. And after you've found a way to fix your ridiculously absurd problems, I'd want you to speak to Lucifer about the terms of our agreement. I'm not sure how much longer I can go on without helping people, it's kind of in my nature. Maybe if we could work out some kind of reasonable number -- let's say, three a week or something like that..."

"I get the point," he interrupted.

"Anyway, those are my conditions."

"You have my word, I will advocate on your behalf."

"Fine, we have deal."

Admittedly, within the first few years of her fall from grace, she'd had sex a handful of times. Perhaps that was part of her rebellion. When the doors of heaven had slammed shut, Delilah had taken the opportunity to experience all of the things from which she had been forbidden. She drank and smoked, enjoyed men and gambled, she'd even once stolen a pack of gum from a convenience store. But it all felt terribly wrong and she was resigned to remaining helplessly impotent, that is, until she met Lucien. 

Aiding Lucien was in her nature to do and if anyone needed help, it was him. The best part was, because he wasn't human, she wasn't really breaking the rules. Quietly she offered him guidance when he was in distress and a soothing hand when he needed one. She observed his gentle nature, though only on the rare occasion, and worked to foster in him a sense of hope and kindness. 

While he couldn't admit it to himself, what he desired more than sex with Joelle, was the tenderness she allowed him to discover about himself. That, more than any other reason, was why she had agreed to help him. If sharing with him Joelle's essence bolstered a connection with his heart, she was more than willing to oblige.

Lucien slipped onto the bed and brought with him the delicious scents which drove Joelle wild. More than anything in the world, she wanted to kiss him. Certainly making love to him was beyond compare, but what she missed most was his kiss. It was something he shared with no one else, it was hers, and in that moment she wanted what belonged to her.

So when Lucien's lips came within inches of hers, Joelle gasped. "This is the closest we've been in a month."

"I ache to touch you," he whispered.

"Me too."

Lucien held her gaze, pouring all of his energy into her mind until she collapsed against the pillows. "Remove the robe," he soothed, "I am going to make love to you now."

"Please." She smiled, peeling the burgundy terrycloth from her body.

"Did you bring her deep?" Delilah asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Yes."

"Super duper deep?"

"Yes Delilah, super duper deep," he snapped, "now just do it."

Delilah crawled onto the bed and ran her hands along the satin skin of Joelle's legs. They felt like her own, familiar in their sleek lines and gentle curves, not at all like a man's. She was a beautiful girl and from the moment she laid eyes on her, Delilah understood Lucien's fascination. Oftentimes she found herself staring at Joelle's body when she moved. The way the lean muscles in her legs flexed when she trotted up the stairs; or the pout of her lips when she kissed Lucien; even the rise of her breasts as she breathed, was mesmerizing.

As she observed Joelle's naked body sprawled across the bed, waiting to be touched, all feelings of trepidation faded into oblivion. Delilah approached Joelle as a forbidden fruit, now tempted enough to take a bite. Her fingers connected with Joelle's soft, warm flesh, producing a flutter of energy between them, like two parallel lines joining to complete a circuit. A strange but gentle stirring deep within her loins, compelled her to advance her exploration.

Continuing up Joelle's welcoming body, she reached her mouth where their breaths coalesced in a warm stew of curiosity and desire. Briefly their lips touched in a delicate kiss, but Joelle's eager mouth sought more. With a tender tug, she pulled Delilah closer and rejoined their mouths. Very softly, Joelle's tongue slipped between their lips and traced along the curves of Delilah's mouth and she felt her lips part, offering her own in return. Their tongues, ripe and succulent together, twined and twisted in a symphony of desirous, heavy breaths. A panting moan filled Delilah's mouth, though she was uncertain whose it was.

"Close your eyes, Joelle," Lucien cooed, "and tell me what you desire."

"Your mouth," she moaned in reply.

Joelle's bright cerulean eyes rolled beneath her lids as her lips returned to Delilah's. No longer soft and delicate, her kiss was now contagiously feral and Delilah began to lose herself in the rapturous feel of their entangled flesh. She felt Joelle's thighs tighten around her waist as their mouths crushed together and, lost in the undeniable fervor, a tumult of groans ensnarled their tongues.

Anxious for results, Lucien's powerful hand came to rest on her shoulder, seeming to encourage more. Delilah readily assented, drawing Joelle's tongue into her mouth and playfully sucking it. Her reaction was instantaneous and Delilah felt Joelle's legs clench tightly around her, mashing their hips together.

A hushed growl slipped from Lucien's lips as he pried them apart and pulled Delilah to her knees. Quickly he found her mouth and his lush tongue explored hers, seeking every last morsel of Joelle.

Delilah found Lucien's hardening cock in her hand, though she wasn't exactly certain why, or even how, it had arrived there. She'd never desired him before but, for reasons unknown, she now wished he were naked so she could take him in her mouth. But when her hand began to fumble with the button of his pants, she felt him pull away.

"That was not a kiss," he scolded, pushing her to the bed.

Delilah moved gingerly between Joelle's legs, feeling them fall open of their own volition. Gliding up Joelle's velvety body, Delilah's fingers snaked along the lean muscles of her abdomen, to her round, firm breasts, cupping them in her hands. Joelle's skin came alive as she gently rolled and pinched her taut, dark pink nipples between her fingertips. The heat of Joelle's thigh insinuated itself between her legs, pressing hard against her clit, and Delilah slowly rolled her hips, allowing the friction to ignite another new sensation.

Wreathed by her mouth, she rolled Joelle's perked nipple, like a hard candy, around her tongue, and ground harder against her thigh. Entranced by the taste of her skin, Delilah nibbled at Joelle's full breasts and filled her mouth with their supple flesh. Another little rumble swept across her loins and she felt her panties dampen.

Without Lucien's prodding hands to lead the way, Delilah's fingers began to descend Joelle's body on their journey to the treasure between her legs. A tiny, cropped patch of delicate hair announced that she had reached her destination. Delilah rolled her tongue in sweeping patterns across Joelle's skin as she skimmed down her body, exited now by the idea of her flavor and eager for her mouth to join her fingers.

Delilah soon hovered above the slick folds of Joelle's sex. With a gentle finger she traced the beautiful curves of her vulva before slipping between her lips to coax her clit from its den. Her finger was joined by another, softly stroking the luscious folds of her flesh and marveling at the way it felt against her skin; soft and silky, like the fragile wings of a butterfly.

The first trickle of arousal slickened Joelle's tender labia and allowed Delilah to effortlessly glide her fingers around every beautiful inch. It was mesmerizing, akin to watching a flower bloom. With each touch, her flesh flourished and at the pinnacle of arousal, she blossomed.

The fragrance between her thighs was intoxicating, warm and earthy, with a hint of sweetness. Now hungry to taste her, a puddle of saliva filled Delilah's mouth as the heady scent drew her in. Her tongue found Joelle's clit and gently caressed it with soft, feathery strokes, but she now desired more. With a tender nudge of her elbows, she opened Joelle wider, exposing her more fully to the playful fingers and explorative mouth which sought to please her. Joelle gasped as Delilah's tongue slid the length of her soft, eager vulva, and thrust inside her trembling warmth, immersing itself in the delicate elixir that pooled inside.

Delilah felt Lucien's hand around her neck, impatiently urging her toward him. When she reluctantly pulled from Joelle, his hungry mouth enveloped hers, desperately joining their tongues and ravenously probing her mouth, exhuming every ounce of Joelle's flavor.

"Again," he insisted.

Delilah dove between her legs and slipped her hands underneath Joelle's thighs, sliding a pillow beneath her so she could delve more deeply inside her glistening pussy. She teased a finger in and slowly rolled it around her clenched walls, before teasing it back out. Still hungry, Lucien grasped Delilah's wrist and pulled her finger into his waiting mouth, offering a quick nip before releasing it. Quickly returning to Joelle, Delilah offered two this time, slowly working them in and out together, as her tongue found Joelle's swollen clit.

With unexpected intensity, she now ravenously reamed the nectar from Joelle's loins, gathering every ounce of what Lucien so urgently desired. She cupped her tongue like spoon and laded the sweet ambrosia from between her moist lips, proffering it to him, and with voracious force, Lucien devoured Joelle's essence.

Again Delilah's hand found his cock, stirring in him a desire he had managed to stave off for several weeks. Lucien felt the twinges in his groin grow stronger as his erection demanded to be acknowledged, and the tiny wet spot against the crotch of his pants signaled his arrival at a destination from which he could not return. Quickly his hand replaced hers as he pushed her back to the bed, thankful that his slacks were still on but uncertain how long they would remain that way.

"Keep going, she is far from done," he insisted, now tugging at the screaming ache beneath his trousers.

Lucien watched with rapt attention as Delilah brought Joelle to orgasm. As the spasms rocked Joelle's core, her back arched and she tipped her hips, inviting Delilah deeper. A guttural moan escaped her throat as she pulled Delilah's mouth against her and bore down against her hand, forcing her fingers even deeper.

Watching them together had ignited a thunderstorm of desire. Finally the ache in his groin was too much to bear and he shoved his pants to the floor and wrapped his hand around his cock. Tightly his fingers locked around the base as he slid his hand the length of his shaft and rolled his palm over the glans, gathering the pearls of cum which lingered at its tip. As he traversed the corona and stroked along the still thickening shaft, he closed his eyes and imagined Joelle's beautiful, supple lips around him. Lucien could almost feel her plush tongue as it floated against his flesh in serpentine strokes, while her suckling mouth milked the cum from his dick.

When he opened his eyes, he found Delilah staring, mesmerized, at his swollen cock. Suddenly he felt her lips around his shaft, eagerly moving down its length and working vigilantly to consume him. Lost in a sensation he had dreamed of for weeks, Lucien wove his fingers through the soft strands of her blonde hair and welcomed her mouth.

Delilah's lips glided down the length of his shaft and Lucien, again, closed his eyes in an attempt to conjure the image of Joelle kneeling between his legs. He imagined the way she would roll her tongue around the ridge of its head, stopping to tickle the delicate little spot underneath. Slowly she would work him in, cupping her tongue around the bottom and brushing wide strokes across his shaft as she took him deeper. When she reached the base, her lips would tighten around him as she sucked at his sensitive flesh. Her tongue undulated and vibrated against his pulsing flesh as she gently rolled his balls in her palm, offering them a tender squeeze when he was close to orgasm. 

But Delilah was no Joelle, and when she let the head of his cock pop from of her mouth, his eyes opened. No longer able to marry fantasy and sensation, he focused on Delilah's fingers, which still played and pumped inside Joelle's shimmering cunt.

"Fuck her harder," murmured Lucien.

Delilah slipped a fourth finger in and with frenzied intensity, slammed her hand against her cunt. With a tiny squeal, Joelle rolled and pitched her hips, matching her rhythm. Another orgasm swept through her body and as she thrust herself against Delilah's fingers, her voice carried him back to a state of euphoria.

"Lucien," she whispered, "make love to me."

Reinvigorated and impassioned by her words, he thrust his throbbing flesh into Delilah's moist, warm mouth. Her pink tongue lashed against his insistent cock as his pelvis pushed harder, hungry to feel her envelope him.

Unable to manage his size as expertly as Joelle, Delilah vigorously stroked his shaft with her free hand as she sucked raveningly on the head of cock. With every upstroke, she fluttered her tongue around its curved edges, before letting it glide back into her mouth. Lucien's cock was delicious, but it was also massive and her jaw strained to work around its girth.




The Cellar Ch. 06



She pulled from Joelle and wrapped both hands around him, interlacing her fingers and stroking his shaft between her palms. Her mouth moved in tandem, sucking in the slippery, fat head of his cock and flicking her tongue across the top, lapping up the little beads of cum which pooled there. A luxurious mixture of her saliva and Joelle's cum, coated his dick and heightened her arousal, but she wanted more.

When she felt him reach the precipice of orgasm, she pulled from him completely. "I want to know what you'd feel like inside me. Will you do it?"

Lucien didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed the sheet under Joelle's body, jerking her toward the edge of the bed. In one swift, deliberate, motion, he thrust Delilah's khakis to the floor and pushed her mouth back to Joelle's glossy cunt. With a sharp tap of his foot, he spread her legs and moved easily between them. He wasted no time pushing himself inside her tight, pink sheathe, desperate to feel the warmth of a woman around him.

Lucien closed his eyes as he felt her heat surround him, her muscles struggling against his turgid flesh. But he was undeterred and shoved his swollen cock between her tight, warm walls. With a firm grip around her waist, he slammed his pelvis against her round, firm ass, providing her a true taste of his potency.

A piercing scream of pleasure flew from her throat. Or perhaps it was pain, he wasn't exactly certain. Either way, it didn't matter, he had no intention of stopping.

After a few abrasive thrusts, her rhythm finally matched his and her mouth returned to Joelle. Lucien's desire was again heightened while he watched with hungry eyes as her tongue worked mercilessly against Joelle's pleading, shimmering clit. Delilah pushed her fingers inside and worked them in tempo with the thrusting of his cock, quickly bringing Joelle to orgasm. When the quivering in Joelle's pelvis finally waned, Lucien clutched Delilah's hair and pulled her mouth to his, drawing Joelle's taste deep into his throat and holding it there.

Lucien released her hair and pushed her back to the bed. It was all very frenzied and Delilah wasn't certain whether she was coming or going. Between his hammering cock and Joelle's sumptuous pussy, she was lost in the raptures of orgasm. The flood of sensations, both very distinct, pulled her in different directions, making it impossible to concentrate. It wasn't helping that every time Joelle climaxed, Lucien withdrew and ripped her from between Joelle's legs.

Determined to allow them to all peak, Delilah spread her legs and opened herself more fully to Lucien, while returning her mouth and fingers to Joelle's enflamed pussy. His response was immediate and she felt his massive cock impale her with vicious force. He pounded inside of her quaking walls and she slipped her fingers between Joelle's labia, spreading her lips and fully exposing the small pearl of her clit. Delilah sealed it in her mouth and flicked her tongue around its swollen edges, feeling it roll like a bead between her lips. With tender strokes she licked and tickled it, enjoying the tiny trembles her touch elicited.

Holding her open, her fingers crept inside, hooking against the delicate flesh of her g-spot. She toyed and tickled it as her mouth hummed against her throbbing clit, enjoying the taste that trickled inside her mouth. The roll of Joelle's hips against her hand announced the beginning of her climax and Delilah's playful tickling intensified. She withdrew her mouth and extended her tongue, their pink flesh reconnecting as Delilah vigorously flicked Joelle's clit.

Joelle ground her pussy against Delilah's tongue and fingers, and Lucien felt a building storm in his groin. He slammed harder against Delilah's upturned ass as he felt the impending release and when the muscles of her cunt tightened around him, he finally let go. With a final surge of furious strokes, he slammed his aching cock deep within her walls and felt the flood of his semen fill her fruitless womb.

Delilah released a rasping moan as her muscles clenched around him, drawing out the last trickles of cum from his cock. But even as she reached the pinnacle of her own orgasm, Delilah's fingers and tongue never relented. Moments later Joelle gasped, and Lucien watched with sinful jealousy as Delilah's mouth brought her to orgasm. When Joelle's body finally relaxed, Delilah laved the last remaining essence from her pussy and leaned back against his chest, offering him a taste. He took her tongue in his mouth, followed by her fingers, and savored Joelle's taste.

Frustrated by his lack of self control, he quickly pulled from Delilah and found his clothing, disinterested in having a conversation about what had transpired. Though he knew there were no feelings between them, he still dreaded the inevitable awkwardness of having shared with her such an intimate experience. But before he was able to flee the room, Delilah's voice thwarted his efforts to disengage.

"Joelle's a very lucky girl, had I known... oh well," Delilah sighed, pulling her khakis up her slender legs.

"You can never tell her." Lucien glowered.

"Of course, not a peep. But you'd better hope she never asks me."

"I already do."

Lucien carefully grasped the edges of the blanket and pulled it over Joelle's nestled frame. In a moment of desperation, he almost let his fingers glide across the smooth skin of her shoulder, but instead he captured a wisp of her hair and held it to his nose. He breathed in her scent, sweet and succulent, like the smell of a sun ripened peach. But the longer he lingered, the stronger his desire to touch her and, reluctantly, he dropped the strand of her hair and pulled from the bed.

"I love you," Joelle uttered as she snuggled against his pillow.

"Goodnight."

"That's it? 'Goodnight'?" scolded Delilah.

"Yes."

"You're a real shithead Luke. In all this time, have you ever said it?"

"Once -- in a roundabout sort of way."

"Wow, you really are a prick," she growled, storming from the room.

***

Presentiment rocketed Lucien from sleep and he rushed to the bedroom to check on Joelle. When he found her nestled in his robe and curled like a cat around his pillow, a relieved sigh burst from his lungs. But still, there was something ominous in the air and a nervous feeling gnawed at his gut.

"Take her somewhere," he demanded while standing in the open doorway to Delilah's room.

"Why?" she asked, looking up from her book.

"I fear that neither of you are safe here."

"What should I tell her?"

"Tell her Barbas is coming, that is all she will need to hear."

"How the fuck am I supposed to hide her from him?"

"You do not have to hide her, you merely need to take her someplace he cannot follow. Holy Cross Monastery, go there until you hear from me."

Not even an hour had passed before a rap at the door solidified his suspicions. And when he opened it, it was far worse than he expected.

"Fucker!" Annette roared as she barged in, nearly knocking him over.

"I prefer 'Good Evening'," Lucien snarled. "Barbas." He tipped his head.

"Yes, yes, it is a fine evening indeed. Lucien my dear friend, I felt terrible seeing you in such a state of despair when last we met. So in good faith, I sought out Annette in an effort to provide a bridge of communication between you. I thought perhaps my mediation services would serve to quell the hostility," said Barbas flatly, a slight tugging at his lips.

"I am certain that is precisely what you intended," snidely Lucien replied.

"Come, let us unruffled our feathers." Barbas motioned to the sofa.

No sooner had Annette rested her now plump bottom on the settee, than she launched into one of her more flamboyant diatribes. "You're a real asshole Lucien, a fucking slimy, snaky, shit," she lambasted, flailing her arms in the air. "I have given and given to you, many times at my own peril, and you, you cock sucking bastard, you just take and take and take, just like the goddamn leach that you are! And then you have the fucking nerve to go behind my back and try to weasel out of our deal? You're a real piece of shit!"

"Annette, I hardly understand why you are so invested in spending an eternity with someone you find so repugnant."

For several minutes, Annette merely glared back at him, her foot tapping noisily against the cinereous marble. But slowly her posture softened and her eyes grew gentle.

"Lucien," her voice mellowed, "we had something once."

"What we had was a business transaction, nothing more. I have no feelings for you. How is it you are so oblivious to that? Are you so delusional as to believe that a bond of perpetuity will garner you a true place by my side?"

"So I just get tossed aside because of some fucking junkie hooker?"

"I will forgive you that egregious insult but once as I believe it was uttered in anger, but do not try the bounds of my forgiveness, it is not in my nature to be so generous."

"Excuse me," Barbas interrupted, pulling a fat cigar from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and lighting it with a quick snap of his fingers. "If I may be so bold; it suddenly occurred to me that this slattern, Joelle, as lovely as she may be, has become quite the distraction. So I will again offer my services by removing the problem from your midst. Perhaps we can arrange some sort of visitation schedule," he chuckled.

"Visitation!" shrieked Annette.

This merry-go-round of insanity persisted for an interminable amount of time, gobbling up the prime feeding hours and leaving Lucien weak and frustrated. It was an exercise in absolute futility. Any time Annette came within a nanosecond of understanding his plight, Barbas would interject with an insidious comment and rile her up again. Finally, after his patience had been exhausted, Lucien stood and strolled casually to the door.

"I thank you both very much for your visit however, as evidenced by our lack of resolve, I believe we have reached an impasse. Since there appears to be no happy medium here, I must bid you farewell."

"Do it tonight," Annette insisted, "Barbas, make him do it tonight!"

"I hardly feel that is fair, clearly I have some matters to attend to before any such commitment is executed."

"Agreed, you have until the finish of next week to attend to your affairs. Annette and I will return then," Barbas assented, pulling his camel overcoat from the coffee table. "And Lucien, make certain that the Nephilim is here, her time is up and I will need to collect her."

"No!" Lucien roared, straightening his posture and widening his stance. "She only did what I asked of her, if anyone is to be punished, it should be me."

"While I would enjoy nothing more, it is irrelevant why she restored the girl's life, only that she did. So please, do not make me set foot inside that monastery, it would be quite unpleasant for all involved."

***

"The night that Lucien," Joelle stammered, "killed me, how did you bring me back?"

"Angels are healers, it's one of the few traits I got to keep. I'm not supposed to though, I guess the devil's not too keen on the whole 'helping people' thing. I guess I do what Luke does, only in reverse. It makes sense, really. He takes, I give, sort of like a yin and yang kind of thing. Only the more he takes, the stronger he becomes."

"And you can't lie either, right?" mumbled Joelle as she nestled into the one tiny bed they were afforded at the monastery. Thankfully she liked Delilah and didn't mind sleeping beside her, but even if she did, it wouldn't matter, because what she needed most was the warmth of a friend.

"Nope," answered Delilah.

"Good, so you'll have to tell me what he won't. It's over isn't it? That's why he sent us away, everything's going to be over when we get back."

"I'm not certain but I believe that's what's happening," Delilah sighed and rolled the blanket over Joelle's shoulder while slipping a small package of tissues beside her hand. "I'm sorry, I wish I could help."

"Me too. I guess maybe I always knew this day would come. Sometimes we're just not meant to have certain things, you know? I think maybe we were just doomed from the beginning."

"Maybe, but I never give up hope that one day I'll be able to get back home. You shouldn't be so quick to give up either."

"Maybe."

Though Delilah pretended to be asleep, Joelle knew that she wasn't, because every time the tears became too intense to breathe, Delilah pulled her just a tiny bit closer. It took many hours and the entire package of tissues, but finally the tears stopped and sleep consumed her heavy eyelids.

***

Lucien waited until the following evening before calling Delilah. Within an hour of first hearing her voice, the crunching of gravel announced their return home. Home, he thought to himself, in just a few short days it would no longer be that. It would become a house again, with cold marble and a deafening echo that seemed to ring in his ears long after the sound dissipated.

Lucien pushed aside the thick, vermillion curtain and watched wistfully from the window as Joelle leapt from the car and bounded up the stairs. For a moment he felt his heart stop, knowing it was to be the last time he would experience the feeling of reunion.

"How long do we have?" she asked as she burst through the door.

"Ten days."

"Oh," she muttered as her knees began to weaken. Clumsily she staggered to the chestnut leather chair and collapsed against its unwelcoming skin. More than anything in the world she wanted to wrap herself around him and stop time. But not even Lucifer could do that and, even if he could, she ventured to guess that he wouldn't. And so, for the second time in less than twenty four hours, she lost herself in tears.

When Joelle began screaming random expletives and throwing knickknacks from the coffee table, Lucien nodded to Delilah to take her upstairs. It took quite a while to calm Joelle, but between her soothing tone and an ample supply of Xanax, Delilah had her sleeping within an hour. It was gut-wrenching not to be the one to offer Joelle comfort, to touch her when she most needed it, and knowing that their lips would never again join, nearly collapsed him.

"You can always get her pregnant, that's one way to stop this crazy rollercoaster ride," Delilah offered blithely as she slid down the balustrade. "There's no greater promise than that."

"What?" Lucien asked incredulously.

"Caveat to the fourth rule of creating a bond is that any promise or bond created can be willfully broken upon the conception of a child. Don't you read your own rules silly?"

"Yes Delilah, I am well aware of the rules. Did you happen to read the part that outlines the approval process?" he snipped. "Since I already have an accord with Annette, I require the permission of an Elder to father a child with another human. But either way it does not matter, I refuse to do it, and do not offer her false hope by revealing this."

"Suit yourself you stubborn old demon."

Lucien leered at Delilah, who merely shrugged and moved off into the kitchen. He knew about the rules, more specifically, he knew how to break them. Getting Joelle pregnant was the only way to break his bond with Annette, but with it came a myriad of complications. If Joelle were to bear his child, Barbas would know immediately. Once that happened, there was no telling his reaction, though it was safe to assume it would be explosive. 

The most important consideration was that Joelle would not only be bound to him eternally, she would also be bound to a child. To further complicate things, this would be no ordinary child, this would be a cambion and they were unpredictable, mischievous little creatures. But regardless of the complications, there was a part of him which wanted to create a life with her, even if it was a crazy little cambion.

"My apologies for being so harsh," Lucien offered as he stepped into the kitchen where Delilah was busying herself with a crossword puzzle. "I know that you have the best of intentions."

"What?" she stammered, looking at him with wide, surprised eyes. "Did you actually just apologize to me?"

"Yes, though I would not hold my breath for another."

"Of course not," she smirked.

"I am afraid there is more unfortunate news I must share with you. Barbas is seeking to claim you when he returns. I offered myself for punishment as it was at my request you saved Joelle, but he would not accept."

"Oh," Delilah dropped her head between her hands. After several excruciating minutes, she finally raised her eyes to him. "It's okay Lucien, it was bound to happen eventually. It was only a matter of time before I broke the rules, the result would have been the same. Don't blame yourself, you didn't make me do it, regardless of what you may think."

Lucien watched as Delilah collected her pencil and her book of puzzles, and walked quietly from the kitchen. Moments later he heard her bedroom door close and the lock click into place.

There were no more chips with which to barter, they had cashed them all. Lucien collapsed into the chair beside him and rested his head against the kitchen table, and wondered how everything had managed to spin so wildly out of control. But regardless of to whom he assigned blame, there was no denying that he was the common denominator in every situation.

***

When Joelle awoke, the sun was screaming through the windows and Delilah was yet again perched in the sill, basking in its warmth. The scene was a little surreal and Joelle almost lost herself in its beauty, until she realized that finding Delilah in her room might not be a good thing.

"He left!" Joelle screamed as she shot out of bed.

Delilah rushed over and cupped her hand around Joelle's mouth. "Ssshh, it's okay, he's sleeping. You have to be quiet though, he'd kill me if he knew I was in here."

"Sorry."

"Now listen, I promised Luke that I would keep a really important secret, but if you were to find out on your own, well it wouldn't exactly be my fault. So I was just in my room thinking about how much I like games and I thought maybe it would be fun if we played one together."

"Okay then, twenty questions, I like that one, let's play."

"Good, so I'll begin with an introductory idea. When you're lucky enough to be ingratiated into the underworld, they give out these nifty little books with a bunch of silly rules. I've read them all and have become quite familiar with the ins and outs. You can ask me about them if you'd like."

It took several minutes before Joelle got to the meat of their question and answer session, but when she finally arrived at the correct conclusion, she was livid. How Lucien could have kept something like that from her was unfathomable and she was itching for an opportunity to throw something at him. So as soon as the last whispers of sunlight were trampled by the stampede of night, she rushed into the kitchen and stood impatiently by the cellar door, tightly clutching ladle.

No sooner had Lucien stepped fully into the artificial light of the kitchen, she nailed him in the chest. "You jerk!"

"Do you mind explaining why you just hurled a cooking utensil at me?"

"Because I can't choke you! Trust me, I'd much rather be doing that!" Joelle tossed a spatula at him but he was prepared and deftly avoided the blow. "Why didn't you tell me? What are you -- some kind of fucking sadist? All this time, all this fucking torture and we could have resolved this months ago!" 

Joelle grabbed a handful of spoons from the drawer and chucked them at his head, but his stupid Superman speed left the spoons sailing through the air and clattering against the far wall. And before she could blink, he had crossed the length of the kitchen and stood inches from her face.

"That was the good silver," calmly Lucien noted with a disapproving shake of his head. "Joelle, you do not even like children."




The Cellar Ch. 06



"That's not true! I don't like the dirty, loud, whiney ones that run amuck in Wal-Mart, steal things from my cart and wipe their snot on the shelves."

"I see, well thank you for clarifying," Lucien chuckled. "Do you really shop at Wal-Mart?"

"Oh shut up! Now why didn't you tell me?"

"Joelle, I chose not to tell you because I want good things for your life. Your life," he repeated, "not some absurd facsimile of it. Besides, I would be breaking the rules by fathering a child with anyone other than Annette."

"Well I think I should be able to make my own decisions about the kind of life I'd like to have, facsimile or otherwise. And when did you start caring about the rules?"

"Since the consequences became more severe. So now that you know, what is it that you would like to do?"

"I don't know yet, it would have been nice to have some more time to think about it."

"There are nine days left, you may use five of those to parse the information and make your decision. But know that if we challenge Barbas, there will be a penalty to pay and I have no idea what that will entail."

"I understand -- and thank you, I expected more of a fight from you."

"At this juncture, there appears we have very little left to lose."

"Exactly... and just so I know, what would the baby be?"

"As any other, a part of me and a part of you."

"But you're..."

"Precisely. And that is yet another reason I chose not to tell you."

***

Joelle thought about it for four days. She drove Lucien insane with a litany of questions, all of which seemed very reasonable, though he seemed to find most of them amusing. Still, there were some unsettling issues to consider, like carrying a child for only four months, most women had nine in which to prepare and enjoy their pregnancies; she would be afforded less than half that. She would also become barren, though she did quite enjoy the idea of never having to worry about her period again. But at the end of the day, there were really only two things to consider: a life with him and a life without him.

A life with him would be forever and while she wasn't exactly forfeiting her soul, she would be losing a piece of herself. The gift of a cambion spared her from hell but would also prevent her from entering heaven. Her human life would be relinquished and she would become one of "The Lost", a small collection of immortals who straddled the line between heaven and hell, but belonged to neither. And should her body ever die or the end of days be reached, she would be stuck in purgatory for perpetuity, separated from Lucien. But a human life without him meant losing a piece as well, a piece she didn't know if she could bear to lose.

Tomorrow was the day of reckoning, the sixth day of their ten day allotment, and there was yet another question to ask. So she rolled from the bed and went to find him in the living room, where he and Delilah were steeped in heated debate about good and evil. Joelle pattered down the hall and perched herself at the head of the landing, overlooking the living room, and listened to their chatter.

"Moving beyond the fundamental complexities of right and wrong..."

"Are you going to make the nature versus nurture argument again?" Delilah whined.

"No, I am simply trying to suggest that man is inherently good and evil, in equal proportions, and it is free will which defines one's path."

"Well, since your basic design was molded from the human spirit, wouldn't that imply that you too are intrinsically good and evil, in equal proportions?"

"Unlikely. Though it is a possibility I have considered. I simply find it too difficult to understand Lucifer's motivation in taking such a risk."

"Because he likes to play," said Delilah offhandedly.

It was at precisely that moment she knew her answer. The question she had come to ask was now irrelevant and she could hardly remember what it was. Ultimately, it no longer mattered. If Lucien had revealed anything about his true nature, it was that he possessed forgiveness and a propensity for compassion; those were certainly not characteristics embraced by the devil. There was good in him, even if he didn't believe it to be true.

"Do it," insisted Joelle, hollering from the landing, "knock me up!"

"Are you certain?" Lucien jumped from the sofa, his voice clearly shaken.

"Yes, now do it. I want you to do it right now," she insisted.

"You'll have to release me from our accord."

"I release you!"

"It will be agonizing."

"Lucien, shut up, I release you and all that, now just do it."

Joelle couldn't help but notice the tense mixture of excitement and reluctance which peppered Lucien's face. And then he was gone, reappearing at the bottom of the stairs a moment later.

He slowly climbed the steps and stopped when they were mere inches apart. "Joelle, this means forever. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, you already explained that. I get that it's not a Hallmark card kind of forever, but a real one. I love you, and I want this, and if you love me too, you should just shut up and do it already."

"I will honor your wishes."

Delilah waited until Joelle had moved down the hall toward the bedroom, before scolding him again. "I see you're still being a prick," she hissed, jabbing Lucien in the ribs as she pushed past him. "Tell that poor girl you love her."

"One thing at a time," he snapped, "now go help her."

Joelle looked on, her eyes wide as saucers, as Delilah laced the tethers of the restraints through the headboard before uncapping the syringe.

"Well God will certainly be amused," Delilah sang.

"God? Why on earth would this 'amuse' him?"

"Because each side has a stake in the outcome. Cambion are a true mix of good and evil, so he and Lucifer watch them closely, they're like tiny, little experiments... sometimes they even wager."

"Experiment! You have got to be kidding me! Thanks for filling me in on all this Lucien, my baby's an experiment! Well that's just fucking super."

"Thank you Delilah, for your very encouraging and sensitive words," Lucien snapped. "Joelle, if you have had a change of heart, I will understand."

"Oh just shut up already, both of you. Go ahead, stick me... a fucking experiment," she grumbled. "You're all bat shit crazy."

Delilah swabbed Joelle's arm and slipped the needle in, giving her the highest possible dose of Dilaudid. Within minutes, the room blurred; colors and patterns melded in a sea of swirls and their voices faded into a twisted mass of muted sounds, leaving nothing but a hazy hum. Tremendous calm washed over her body, relaxing her muscles and cooling the flames of anxiety which had consumed her mind. And as she drifted away, she knew that the decision she had made was the right one.

"Remove her clothes and bind her arms," Lucien commanded, "I do not want to risk touching her until she is secure."

When the task was complete, he moved toward Joelle with intense hesitation, reluctant still to touch her. Lucien knew that regardless of the Dilaudid, the pain would be outrageous, and just as he was about to disrobe, a flurry of questions plagued his meager conscience. He wondered if things weren't exactly the way they were supposed to be. Perhaps they were simply not meant to fit together, like a square peg and a round hole. The signs had all been there, at every turn there was yet another obstacle, forcing them apart. What if what was about to happen was the final nail in their coffin as opposed to their liberation?

"Stop looking for reasons to back out!" Delilah snapped, as if reading his very thoughts.

Lucien undressed and kicked his clothes across the floor in disgust. He pulled his cock into his hand and held it within inches of her sumptuous body. This time he knew in advance the absolute agony he would cause her and stood frozen in place, staring at it with disdain and cursing it for being hard.

As his skin connected with Joelle's she squealed and he recoiled. Taking a moment to re-center himself, he approached again and took a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs. Quickly he grabbed her legs and moved between them, and when he felt her squirm, he released her again.

"Now you're just being silly," grumbled Delilah, "she wants this, stop being such a baby about it already."

Closing his eyes, he pushed forward until he felt the head of his dick slide between the folds of her wet sheath. Her pussy became a vice around him, tighter even than their first time together and, with a curl of his lip, he nudged harder. Joelle's firm muscles sucked him in, her pulsing walls seeming to pull him deeper, until the head of his dick was buried inside. As he pushed farther, the pressure intensifying and he felt her flesh stretching around him; struggling to accommodate his thick shaft and reacting to the pain. A deep rumble pooled in his throat, low at first but growing louder with every inch Joelle consumed, until finally he had breached her fully and a thunderous roar burst from his chest.

Unable to watch her twisted face, he forced her legs against the bed, creating an open plain, and watched his cock disappear between the slick, squeezing lips of her cunt. It was a stunning visual, to him Joelle was perfection and watching himself become a part of her was intensely stimulating. Suddenly his rhythm became frenzied, as with each outstroke he was more eager to see himself inside. Pulling her to the very edge of the bed, he pushed hard against her thighs, opening her wider, until every ounce of his shaft had disappear within her.

Lucien rammed his lust filled cock into the deepest recesses of her warm cunt as it clasped tightly around him. Joelle began to quiver as his intensity grew and when her abdomen shuddered in unexpected orgasm, he bared his teeth and slammed inside her with untamed ferocity. With vicious force he grabbed her ankles and thrust her knees toward her shoulders, pressing his body against her thighs to trap her in place. He leaned between her legs and grasped her ripe breasts, kneading the warm, supple flesh between his fingers. His pelvis slammed hard against her ass, their skin connecting in audible slaps, as he took her rigid nipple between her teeth and bit down against the sensitive flesh.

But it wasn't enough, he needed her kiss. Lucien reached for her mouth and sucked and nibbled her lips, reveling in the sweetness they possessed. His hands reached the soft skin of her neck and pulled her body against his, losing himself in the culmination of sensations. Joelle's walls pulsed around him, massaging his cock as he lanced her core with fevered intensity. Even with the building storm in his groin, he could not release her mouth and, for a moment, it almost felt as if she had returned his kiss.

"Fuck!" Lucien thundered, finally forced to release her mellifluous mouth as he felt the pulsing of his dick increase, knowing he was seconds from orgasm. Gently he let her fall to the bed as he pulled from her completely.

"Fuck!" he spat, leaving an impression of his fist in the footboard of the bed. Though he was ready to cum, the beast in him wasn't. Without its participation, the entire process offered nothing more than pain. Frustrated, he pulled the robe from the chaise and paced the room, attempting to clear his mind.

Delilah watched as Lucien stomped around the room before throwing his robe in disgust and dropping to his knees, moving his mouth to Joelle. His tongue flitted around the folds of her labia as he slowly spread her swollen lips, revealing the trembling entrance to her chamber. With a quiet groan he encapsulated her clit with his mouth while slipping his fingers inside and upturning his palm to find her g-spot. 

Joelle's body twitched and writhed from the fierce struggle of pleasure and pain. Her skin, the very center of her body, must have felt as though it were on fire. But Lucien was a remarkable lover and Delilah knew that part of her shaking was from his exceptional skill. Joelle struggled, her wrists growing redder with every jerk against the unyielding leather restraints, and when a violent spasm shook her entire body, her skin began to purple.

Again Lucien pulled from her completely, waiting until her body quieted before moving between her legs and pushing apart her thighs. Sparing no time for gentle play, he thrust himself inside and impaled her on his beautiful, thick cock. No longer able to remain a mere spectator, Delilah moved her lips to Joelle's swaying breast and delicately teased her perked nipple into her mouth.

Captivated by the sight of Delilah enjoying the taste of Joelle's skin, Lucien felt his rhythm increase as he battered inside the tight, enveloping warmth. Delilah moved her fingers to Joelle's clit, lightly pinching and rolling it between them. Very tenderly she began to message her pronounced flesh and unleashed another wave of ferine lust from his loins.

"Taste her," he encouraged.

Lucien lifted Joelle's ass from the bed, tilting her hips to allow Delilah full advantage of her engorged clit as he continued to slam his shaft inside her inflamed pussy. He felt his breathing quicken and his chest begin to shake, as he watched Delilah flick her pink tongue across Joelle's stunning flesh. Feverishly she worked her mouth across Joelle's cunt, licking and sucking her protruding clit as he fucked her. Wrapping her tongue around his cock, Delilah captured their collective juices and held it in her mouth.

"Give it to me," he demanded.

He immersed his tongue in the sweet nectar that pooled in Delilah's mouth, feeling his pelvis slamming against Joelle's thighs with fevered intensity. Delilah returned to Joelle, tempting and prodding and coaxing from her what Lucien so desperately wanted, returning her mouth to his only after the quivering of orgasm had dissipated.

When Joelle's body signified the evanescence of Dilaudid, Delilah scrambled across the bed and grabbed the syringe from the nightstand, pulling the cap off with her teeth and sliding it into Joelle's arm.

The timing was perfect, he was finally ready. More than anything he wished that what he was about to do wouldn't cause her more pain, but it would. The only saving grace was that she was heavily sedated, but even still, it was bound to be excruciating.

"It's time, put that in her mouth," he demanded, nodding to the nightstand.

Delilah nodded and grabbed the ball gag, forcing it between Joelle's clenched teeth. "I've got her," she confirmed, planting her knees against Joelle's restrained arms and pinning her legs against her chest.

And then he merely let himself go, unleashing the creature he fought so diligently to keep inside. Even through the gag, Joelle's screams were so piercing it nearly subdued the beast, but he blocked the sounds and the thought of her twisted face, intent on finishing what they had started. He felt her skin yield to his fattened cock and the undeniable sensation of tearing flesh. But he was no longer in control and his only hope was that Delilah could quickly mend her wounds.

When he felt himself reach the precipice of release, the beast delved deeper and drew from his soul the seed that had lingered there for so long. He roared as he pushed himself deeper, filling her with every ounce of what he'd held back for millenniums, of what he'd saved just for her. With a thunderous snarl Lucien slammed his cock between her faltering walls as orgasm claimed him.

Slowly the monster drifted back to its den and he felt himself returning from the cage in which he had been sequestered. But still he kept himself there, locked between her beautiful legs, buried deep inside of her perfect flesh until he felt Delilah's hands, prying him away.

"You need to let her go Luke, she's in pain," Delilah prodded.

Lucien felt the shaking of Joelle's legs against his waist and gently withdrew.

"How about a shower or a bath?" Delilah asked.

"Just give me some time with her," he growled, resting his hands against Joelle's pelvis. He lingered there, unable to pull from her, unable to endure the separation of their skin. "I love you." 

He kissed her abdomen before rolling her onto her stomach and running his hands along the sinuous lines of her body. Lucien had already chosen the delicate patch of her skin on which to leave his mark, her lovely shoulder. And every day, for all eternity, he vowed to unveil it.

"Draw a bath," he called to Delilah.

The ring rolled easily around his finger, its insignia coming to a rest against his palm, and he closed his eyes as he pressed firmly against the flesh of her shoulder. The scent of burning flesh filled his nose and mouth, making him momentarily ill. But when he withdrew his hand, her skin glowed a pleasing crimson, forever encapsulating his crest.

Lucien carried her to the tub and held her against his body while the water lapped against her skin. Delilah had filled her with Dilaudid and she was now gone, locked away in a sea of pain and analgesics. But what they had set out to do had now been accomplished and he would rejoice for them both.

***

The changes taking place in Joelle's body stole her consciousness for two days, during which she hadn't moved a muscle. Even if he wanted to, he could not leave her, not anymore. When she needed him, he could no longer resist her pull, he could no longer deny her anything and everything she wanted. He was now bound to her for all eternity and their lives were inseparable and tethered in every respect. Even their heartbeats now shared the same rhythm.

On the third day, he felt her stir beside him and pulled the sheet from her body.

"I can feel you," she croaked.

"Have some water." He held the straw to her mouth and waited for her to finish the glass. "Your skin will burn no longer, I claimed you from Barbas. There is nothing more he can do, you now belong to me."

"Belong to you?"

"We belong to each other," he corrected, "though it is my brand, my mark, which adorns your body."

"Maybe I'll just have to come up with my own," she giggled hoarsely.

"Perhaps you should, I would gladly bear it." He kissed her neck. "How do you feel?"

"Fine I guess, different sort of, but still kind of the same... maybe you should ask me tomorrow. So -- did you do it?"

"Yes. I can already feel it inside you."

"So I'm... wow," she stammered. "For some reason I'm incredibly turned on by that."

"You are most definitely pregnant," he chortled.

"I missed touching you."

Joelle straddled Lucien and peeled the shirt from his chest, revealing the tight, sinuous muscle of his abdomen. Her mouth began to water as she traced her finger over their subtle lines before reaching the waist of his pants. With a forceful tug she popped the button and yanked open the zipper. As she pulled down his slacks, his beautiful cock sprung free from their confines and lay semi-erect against his thigh.

Falling against his body, Joelle found his eyes, now a dull shade of jade from days of not eating. "You're hungry," she noted.

"I have not left your side," he confirmed.

"Then let me feed you."

Her fingertips traced the luscious smile which crept across his face and grew wider with each feathery stroke. She breathed in his scent, powerfully masculine, yet honeyed, and drenched in craving. With every touch her heart quickened and his beat hastened in rejoinder. They were connected, two halves of a whole, woven around and through each other in seamless loops. Infinity, she thought absently, an unbreakable chain with no beginning or end.

Joelle's fingers travelled down his chin and along the contours of his strong jaw, before losing themselves in the soft strands of his ebony hair. As their lips drew nearer, the smile faded from his mouth and his eyes grew brighter. Joelle noticed the lines in his neck tighten as he swallowed in anticipation and she wondered if he were as desperate as she.