0 comments/ 6281 views/ 1 favorites Little Crafter Ch. 01 By: Samhainchild She worked through the night, again. The studio looked as though it was waiting patiently to be bare and painted crisp white once more. She'd begun a lease on the place the previous year for a small fortune each month, but the building was in an ideal location for her needs. Close enough to the city for work purposes, and far enough out in the sticks to put off potential visitors from making the drive out to see her; she had peace enough to work on her props and scene effects without interruption or prying eyes. She could work her magic here, literally. The studio was on one floor of many in what had once been a parking garage for a shopping center that ended up being scrapped, and the town had fixed the general landscape when prompted by a sweep-in buyer who proposed plans to renovate the structure into an elegant gallery on the river. The gallery owner had promised an inflow of tasteful tourists, along with tasteful tourist's money, but cumulative poor luck, poor decisions and overly cautious marketing left the investment as a money pit. The structure was well polished and clean, isolated and well lit to stand out against the woods and water at night, but failed as a business so badly that it was avoided by the few locals that quietly shared its semi-private road. A picturesque town was nearby, with high income families enjoying large houses and much larger grounds in the general area with an air of reservation and privacy. No one would be ringing the sweetly-chimed electronic doorbell she'd installed when she moved in, and that was exactly how she liked it. She sipped her tea and checked the clock without really reading the time. She was tired. And bed was a single foam block away. She'd lay out the shape so it would be prepped for the next day. "Ellieeehhhh", a disembodied voice whispered, "perhaps you should shape a phallus to fill those wasted holes in your little body". The tone was calm, cold and mocking - it whispered dangerously as it threaded in and out of her perception. The hairs on her arms rose and she blinked, the only visible sign that she heard it - heard 'him'. She was determined to ignore his ghost, believing it would get bored or lose energy and leave her alone one day. It had been with her for a day longer than she'd lived here, but the reverse of her hopes seemed to be coming true. Her old Master's voice was getting stronger and more frequent. And other things, things she wouldn't even dwell on or admit, were happening too. It was becoming unbearable. Ellie went back to carving the foam block in front of her, and the voice became louder. The shape in the foam she was working on had started coming through with each rush over the material. Bits of foam seemed to jump and bounce to the floor. Little yellow suicides scattering everywhere around her. She rushed on faster, hoping to get this last thing done before she could collapse in bed, exhausted enough to pass out. But the voice was not giving up that easily and called out to her in mock tones of male ecstasy, using his pet names for her, the ones specifically used when he would- Losing herself as her temper boiled over, the foam lost all meaning and her internal vision was broken, blocked out as she saw something new in her mind's eye. The foam design was now his sickening face. His tongue roved crudely out at her, trying to lace her skin with his saliva. Immediately, the wire brush block in her hand was tearing into its flesh. In her mind, she savaged it. His left eye was ripped open and then out as the hard wire bristles tore through the thin skin, there. Suddenly, his nose and tongue were a shredded mess, with his lips quickly following suit. She ignored the blood spattering out across the white floor, the table, and her worn-out tee. Her eyes welled up with tears of rage and she caught her own hand she'd been using to hold the foam in place, tearing open a section along her thumb and taking a deep swath of skin away, making it feel like ice and fire were simultaneously eating her hand. The screamed that lept from her throat was full of pain and fury, but she finally dropped the wire block. The foam fell back lopsidedly without a sound but managed to knock over her china cup, adding an edge of normal chaos to the scene that she thought would've been morbidly funny if she hadn't been too drained to raise any humour, and the tea from her cup spread quickly and ran in rivulets down the table legs. Ellie followed it down, dragging along the wall beside her as she slumped in on herself in defeat. The brown of the tea mixed with the red on the floor and she knew only some of that blood was from her own wound. She sat there for a while, listening to the muted sounds of the river outside, and felt like her stomach was a pit, her limbs were stone, and her head was overstuffed with cotton. She would clean everything thoroughly before she'd let herself sleep. Ellie needed peace. Little Crafter Ch. 02 When Ellie woke up, the hazy blue outside her window gave nothing away as to whether it was about to turn into morning or night. She intently ignored her clock with the aim of reaching clarity without any extra pressure and stumbled blearily toward her en suite. She'd fallen asleep in a long sleeve t-shirt and over sized athletic shorts rather than her usual nude state. It wasn't cold in her flat, being the middle of the summer and on the highest level of her studio's building, but she'd felt naked after what happened the night before. Or morning before? She wasn't sure of the transition of time just yet and let the thought fade. A shower would help. A bath would be even better, and for what felt like the first time in a long time, she let herself smirk. Not quite a smile, she told herself in self-reproach, but not a bad start. Her bathroom was dark and even though she was well used to the light switch just inside the door, it eluded her just now so she lazily quit searching for it and just wandered over to the bathtub, turning on the main faucet and adjusting the knobs to where she knew the temperature would even out just right when hot water finally came through. The toilet was the next stop, and as she sat and peed in the dark, she let some of her muscles relax. Where sleep should have helped her unwind, it had only wound her tighter with nightmares she didn't want to recall. She relieved herself and sat there a while longer in the dark, listening to the bath filling up. A voice, barely audible, spoke from across the room. Ellie wasn't sure she really heard it at first. She just froze and listened intently. She prayed to no-one in particular that her brain had just tried to make something more of the sounds of the water splashing in the tub, while her eyes darted around the room. She concentrated on staying calm and made herself scan the bathroom slowly. The small amount of light from the bedroom window was only fading further. Unfortunately, it turned out to be nighttime after all. "Ellie... My precious little crafter-girl, can you hear me?", the voice was getting stronger, and worse, closer. "Oh my little Ellie. I'm going to destroy your sweet little body, like you destroyed mine. Only... I have plans for my little Ellie's body", he was too close, she couldn't see anything where the voice came from. "Such plans", this last was right at her ear and she felt her hair move slightly. Ellie scrambled from the toilet, and in her blind panic, immediately tripped and hit her head on the edge of the bathtub when her shorts caught around her ankles. They acted as a knot and an unseen force twisted them further and doubled the fabric over her feet, securing her legs as she lay dazed. "That was... really quite pathetic. Even for you", he chuckled darkly. His voice was wavering in and out, but so was the sound of the running water, and she realised she might fall unconscious – and never wake up. Ellie felt her volatile anger rise up, but not as fast as the contents of her stomach. Her head swimming, she lifted herself up and heaved but nothing came up. Ellie couldn't even remember the last time she'd eaten anything. As she began reaching to untangle her shorts, an unseen hand grabbed her hair and another whipped her shirt up her back and around her face, pushing her face-first over the edge of the bathtub. The water flooding into the tub added to the chaos as she flailed blindly against a man long dead and gone. The sound of the water rushing, even with her head under the surface, was so loud and rumbling that it filled her head. She screamed out and air pockets formed and ran up the sopping fabric of her shirt and to freedom. Only the thrust from behind her brought her back to the surface to catch a precious breath before she was shoved back under. The pain was raw as a vicious force tore past her delicate pussy lips. She'd been untouched since she'd finally freed herself from her Master. But he took her now, even in death. The pain in her lungs outmatched even the deep pain from her cervix being slammed into, and she screamed again, involuntarily taking in water as she panicked and struggled. Choking and coughing only caused her to inhale more hot water and it dawned on Ellie that she was going to die. This was it. She was going to die like this. Being fucked by a man who cheated her out of her life, even after she'd killed him. Little Crafter Ch. 03 Water had stopped sloshing and now poured uniformly around the edge of the perfectly level tub. There were bubbles in Ellie's nostrils, but they weren't forced out. She was limp, red eyed and blue lipped, and mostly naked. Nothing but blood and some bath water dribbled down her thighs. There would be no evidence of who had done this. Eleanor Celeste Little was dead. Vasile stared down through the dark at his handiwork and for a split second he thought he felt something settle in him. If he'd had a body, he would have said he felt himself relax; but he was bodiless, just the essence of a murdered villain. He wondered whether he'd somehow missed Ellie's departure, but then he recalled that he'd barely existed at all when he'd first died. It would take time, and energy, to make her substantial too. To make her substantial enough to control. He'd own Ellie again soon, and this time there would be no escape. It was during his evaluation that someone crept in through the balcony door and softly moved along the wall to the bathroom. The darkness helped hide them, and luckily the running water disguised a harsh gasp as they registered Ellie's body slumped over the edge of the bath tub. There was a sigh from the bathroom and, without anything changing, the newcomer felt the apartment empty of whatever presence he'd felt when he'd come in. He knew it was safe to venture to Ellie's body, if only to say goodbye to a woman he'd been destined to find, but ultimately found too late to do any good. He squelched along the bathroom floor, doubling back quickly to turn on the bathroom light. He needed to see her, see her face clearly and up close. He'd never had a chance to meet her in person, having always been delegated to watch her from afar. His stony face broke its poise as he comprehended how completely he'd failed this beautiful creature. The violence of the scene was absolute; but her body, posed so provocatively as to hide nothing of her most treasured spot, triggered a surge of heat low in his abdomen. The heat spread down and caused a twinge in his balls, and an uncomfortable restriction was trapping him at a bad angle at the crotch of his pants. Ellie had always been appealing at a distance. But up close, her small, delicate frame was emphasized in contrast to his own towering build. As he knelt in the water and reached over her body to turn off the faucet, his arm grazed her back and he found himself drawn to push himself up behind her. It seemed like a magnet was compelling his movement, pulling him in, but it was purely a basic lust that defied his ethics and squeezed his moral fiber dry. A small groan forced its way out of his throat as he felt his resolve crumble. She was gone, what harm would it do? She was newly dead - barely an essence to hold or create any memories. The warmth of her blood and the water soaking into his pants sealed the deal and he pulled her up and against him, holding her slack body at the waist as gently as his rough hands could muster. It took extreme patience and a touch of masochism to wait until he'd uncovered the tee-shirt from her face before he began massaging her breasts. He'd closed her eyes and half bothered to lie to himself, imagining that she was passed out as he rolled her nipples between his callused fingertips. Her skin was hot and wet and it helped his erection ignore the lack of life beneath his touch. He secretly enjoyed a spark from the knowledge that he could do literally anything he wanted with her supple, yielding body. There would be no excuses or refusals; there would be no disgust or fear, no pressure to perform. With a desperate speed he found himself devoid of clothes and driving into her splayed body without pause or care. He drove deeply and with complete abandon, attempting to find some way deeper inside her small cave. He adjusted his weight on his hands as he peered down at her body, watching her rock limply with each slam as he drove deep within her - he wanted to see himself bottom out, and with each thrust he felt he was a little bit closer to achieving his goal. If Ellie had been alive, she'd have screamed bloody murder as he tore into her depths, pounding her cervix and thrashing her bruised vaginal walls. With a series of animalistic thrusts, he felt his balls finally smack and squeeze against the outside of her pussy. The sting of each slap was now quickly muted by the cushion of pressure as he bottomed out and the sensation was too much as he throatily roared his satisfaction, pumping himself deep inside her, milking himself with her abuse-swollen flesh. He collapsed on top of her with more force than he would otherwise have allowed himself, but as the throbbing in his cock slowly subsided, he realised the pulsing sensation was not just his own. Instantly on the alert, he pulled himself down to listen to her chest. A beat flooded doubtlessly into his ear and he examined her face with fresh eyes. Ellie's lips still held a bluish tint, but he held hope as he parted her lips and tilted her head slightly back. With her chin up, he pushed air into her throat, and after only a handful of pumps to her sternum she simultaneously vomited and coughed up water; gasping and choking, and best of all, breathing. There was no guilt within him. He'd saved her life, as was his duty, and as far as he was concerned they were even. He stayed long enough to re-dress in his sopping wet clothes and be sure she was really likely to pull through. Placing her in the recovery position, away from the larger puddles on the floor, he turned out the bathroom light and made his way back out to the balcony to disappear into the night. He needed to seek out help - he had nothing to protect others against violent spirits. Soon Eleanor Crafter would have a team of guardians ranging in uncommon skills. And she would be none-the-wiser. Little Crafter Ch. 04 It had been a full week, give or take a couple of hours, since Ellie had woken up on the wet tile floor of her bathroom. When the tub had overflowed, the water flooded the apartment and caused damage to her secondary studio just beneath it; but that wasn't the cause of her stress. Ellie was alive. And for whatever reason, she hadn't since heard from her old Master. She was battered inside, and it hurt to walk. She was pretty sure she had bronchitis, too. But what plagued her most was a constant feeling of being watched. Injury, illness and the constant state of alarm left her fatigued and she found herself reacting violently to every little sound. But her reactions were getting progressively more sluggish despite her best efforts to stay sharp. Tremors crept up her wrists, and she jerked with shot nerves as she knocked the edge of her cereal bowl against the counter in front of the sink. It had gotten to the point that she no longer trusted her hands for work - the hot-wire cutter she'd just moved to her primary studio on the ground floor was definitely off limits. Ellie tipped her bowl of soggy flakes into the sink without really paying attention to them, and just let the cereal puddle into the drain sieve. Reluctantly she turned around and glanced around at her apartment; she groaned. It looked like an interior lighting store had spewed its entire stock into her home, which wasn't far from the truth. She'd gone on a frenzy in the closest hardware store, which turned out to be two towns away, and bought indiscriminately. When she got home, her placement of the lights had been just as liberal. There hadn't really been any planning out where each lamp would go. It was just a case of what was closest and where was darkest. The effect was... Ellie made a sour face and groaned again. Limping slightly, she made her way to the bathroom and stopped at the doorway. The bathroom was as neat as it had ever been. Only the ripple and stain in the carpet along the edge of the doorway belied the calm of the little sanctuary. Where bathing had been a place to escape and dissolve into comfortable bliss, it now appeared to her as a place where she could nearly die. Or.. did? Had she died, she wondered. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom wouldn't answer any of her questions, so she pulled them back in and hid them away for a time when they could be resolved. Ellie caught a whiff of herself and grimaced. Everything in her apartment was cleaner than her. She took a step into the bathroom to face her memories and bathe for the first time in a week. Outside, three pairs of eyes were glued to her well lit apartment. One pair in particular watched as she stood and waited at the edge of that room where he'd taken her, and he stifled an excited shiver in the July heat. He watched as her clothes clung damply to her petite form. It was like she was teasing him, but in so innocent and unwitting a manner that it was all the more alluring. Tendrils of mousy brown hair were plastered to her cheeks and neck, coming down from the messy bun she'd quickly whipped her hair into. She'd been too distraught to look after herself as she neurotically cleaned everything around her, and had carried his seed buried deep inside her for the past week. His imagination began to cut in with flashes of what she might look like naked and pregnant. Not just pregnant, but pregnant with his child. It took him less time to imagine her killing it or herself since she knew nothing of him, and worse, only knew of the attacker that killed her - however temporarily. "Emilian," one of his companions said quietly - that one word jarred him from his thoughts, brought him back to reality. "Vadim?" it was less a question than a request to his old friend. He felt a need for guidance, and he knew no one better suited. "You've gotten a lot closer than this perch, I take it? Perhaps you've done a bit more rescuing of this damsel than you've felt warrant to mention, hmm? Or a bit more than rescuing... You're a man, Emilian. I don't need to tell you what I've seen, but I can say I know the look of an enamored guard. You've tasted this girl in one way or another and that won't abate as long as you're watching over her every movement. Tell me how you see this progressing." Emilian blinked, still staring out at the bright windows surrounded by so much darkness, and marveled at the accuracy of Vadim's judgement of him over the last few days. Vadim was no mind reader, or at least if he were, he did not profess that as one of his many coveted skills. They'd just known one another for many years. They'd known each other through fights and healing wounds; but the most solid aspect of their connection was based in their shared unwavering desire to protect lost sheep. They were men of the same ilk, no matter how far off the wagon Emilian felt he'd fallen when he found Ellie's body in the bathroom. It was the one and only time he'd ever been allowed, or allowed himself to be that selfish. Looking at the girl now, he was in awe that she was able to tend to herself after such an ordeal, both physical and mental. He looked over to his friend and admitted what was eating at him most. "I don't believe I can protect Eleanor Little."