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The Travels of Dominique Ch 1

By: caspai



Pulling her long wool coat around herself, Dominique shivered at the cold of the Canadian winter. 'Damn,' she thought to herself, ' I need to get into the sun. How can a person live like this? All these clothes...How can a person think with so many clothes on?' The long wool coat is the only concession she could make for the weather. Underneath, she wore a chocolate brown leather halter and miniskirt, and her stockinged legs ended in ankle boots that exactly matched the color of the outfit. Having seen the newspaper, she just knew Jarod was going to be moody. Death affected him so strangely. The only death she have ever truly been affected by was her first one... 



The sun was beating down fiercly. She had been given a bowl of chocolate to drink earlier, a rare treat for those not of the royal line. She knew, as she drank it, that there were drugs in it. They weren't really necessary, but she was greatful at the thought that had gone into it. This was the day she had been preparing for as long as she could remember. She had been taught, and trained, and well guarded so that she would be acceptable as tribute to Tlaloc. Today was her day of destiny. She felt the drugs beginning to flow through her, dulling her senses. She was being taken out into the hot sun, and could hear the murmur of the crowd. She wished she could focus more clearly, but everything seemed to be happening from a great distance. 

She is being half carried, and half walks by herself, up the long steps of the temple. Up to the very top. The steps are made so that climbing up is easy, but you have to know the secrets of the temple to easily and safely make it back to the ground. She did not know these secrets. They are not necessary for her. Time seems to no longer mean anything to her. The sun is on her skin, and she enjoyed the feel of it. Suddenly her cloth dress is ripped from her body. It is not unexpected, so it did not frighten her. She is beyond being frightened at this point, anyway. Feeling the heat of the sun beating down on her breasts, she looks up to the statue of Tlaloc just above her. The tears in his eyes are as water for her soul. Her death will ensure the rains so necessary for the corn to grow. There is a sudden flash as the obsidian blade rushes toward her. The pain of its entry is intense, and immediately clears her fogged mind. Suddenly, everything comes into sharp focus. A scream rips out of her, try as she might to keep it in. She feels her ribs being spread apart, and the darkness begins to hover just at the edges of her sight. The pain of her beating heart being cut from her body is indescribable, and she knows that she will have just enough time left in life to experience the smell of her own heart being thrown into the fire. She looks at the priest holding the still beating organ, and can hardly believe that it is truely her own heart. As the blackness begins to close over her, the heart is burned. 'Yes,'she thinks to herself, ' it must be my last experience before coming before Tlaloc...'

With a gasp, she sits up, everything coming again into clear and sharp focus. The pain, however, is gone. She reaches a hand frantically to her chest, and the wound is gone. Her heart is still beating under her hand. How could this be? She looks up at the shocked face of the priest, his hands, and the obsidian dagger still showing the blood from her execution. A shocked silence fills the crowd, and then the murmurs... 

The murmuring of the crowds began somewhat hushed. Then they became louder, more insistant. She had been sacrificed. She had died. Her heart had been cut from her body and burned. Her soul had been assigned to Tlaloc. How could it be that she was sitting there, looking around? The emotions turned quickly. The first was puzzlement. That gave quickly to fear, and fear to anger. There had to be a reason for this happening. What did it mean? What would it mean for the rains? Rains that were so desperately needed. Was Tlaloc showing his disfavor by rejecting her? Acting quickly, the Priest whisked her inside the temple. She was shocked. No-one but the Priests and members of the royal house ever step foot in there. The room was small, and the gold on the walls was highly decorative. Before she had a chance to take any of this in, she was whisked out of that room and deeper into the structure of the temple. She was lead down a steep staircase, one that turned back on itself to allow you to walk down comfortably. When they were again down to the ground level, she was taken outside. 

The crowd was being addressed by another Priest atop the temple, so their attention was still at the top of the temple. The murmurs were continuing, but the volume had begun to decrease. She was taken to a public room, but the door and windows were secured, closing out the light. The heat has become stifling, and sweat trickling between her still-naked breasts. Quietly, the Priest handed her a dress, and she slipped it over her head, greatful for his thoughtfulness. Then his voice breaks the silence. 

"I had heard of ones such as you, but had not thought to see one in my lifetime."

His words sent a shockwave through her. Ones such as she? What did he mean? Before she could ask the question, his voice continued on.

"The old histories speak of those who are chosen by the gods for special duties. Ones with the strength to survive death, to go forward to do the works for the gods, to gather the energies from others such as yourself. You must be trained, though, and to do this, you must go from here." 

She at last found her voice, and had a question that must be answered. 

"If there are others such as myself, how is it that no-one has heard of it?"

"Because the superstition and fear of the people will not accept some truths, even when they can be proven over and over. I do not know all that you must be taught, but I know of someone who can help. You must 

trust me..." 



A gust of chilly winter air swirled around her again, traveling up under her coat to touch her legs, making her shiver, and bringing her back to the present. Looking at her watch, she realized that if she didn't hurry, she wouldn't make it to that cafe he is so found of, and that would cause an argument. While she did that occasionally just for the fun of it, this is the first time we have seen each other in about six years, and they had much to speak of. Hurrying on, she quickly reached the cafe, and saw that Jarod was just being seated by the waiter. She saw him look up, and recognizing her, waved. Holding the coat closer to herself, she made her way through the crowd to where he was now seated.

"You could not have perhaps taken a table inside, Jarod? Just this once? Just for me? How in the name of the Gods can you stand this cold?"

"Ah, but Dom my love, with you around, the blood boils. The chill air is meant only to keep my passions at a simmer so that rational thought is possible." Smiling at Dominique, Jarod stands and pulls her hand to his mouth, at the very last second turning it to place a soft kiss on her wrist. Then stepping back, he pulls the chair out for her so that she could sit comfortably at the table.

"Ah, Jarod, what a tease you are. Is that any way to greet someone you haven't seen in so many years? And after I come such a long way, to this miserably cold place, just to see you?" 

Putting her hands on the back of the chair he had pulled out for her, she leaned over it to give him a long kiss on the mouth, moving her mouth as the kiss broke to nibble on his ear. As she did so, her coat gaps open, revealing her outfit underneath. As she drew back, she saw that several men were eyeing her with interest. Bah, what interest are they? Mere mortals, more often than not below contempt. Pulling off the coat, she shivered again. Sitting down, she folds her arms in front of her.

"If coffee is the only way that you are going to offer to warm me up, then just make sure that it is not mocha. You know I have no stomach for chocolate." 

"Dom, don't you think after all this time, I know better than to buy chocolate for you?" With a wry smile, he motioned to the waiter hovering just in the background and places the order. 

As he makes the order to the waiter, she looks around the cafe. It was one of his favorites, and she had to admit that the food was excellent. The only two draws that this place had for her were Jarod, and the food. 

The centuries that the French had been here had left a definite mark on the food. "The years seem to have been kind to you, Jarod. I am very happy to find that you still have that handsome head on your shoulders. I 

would hate to have to hunt down the one that takes your head. It would remove one of the few joys in my existance." 

Looking across the table at Dominique, her slight figure a camoflage for unbelievable strength, amusement filled his eyes, and he chuckled softly.

"Still so very blood thirsty, little one? Ah, how I wish I had known you before the harshness of our reality stole the softness from your soul."

"And just what is it about me that makes you believe that there was ever any softness in my soul, Jarod?"

The coffee arrives, hot and black, and Dominique wraps her hands around the mug gratefully, nearly gulping down the hot liquid in her desire to feel the warmth begin to enter into her.

"Within the hearts of men, my love, all women have a softness that they keep close to themselves, and share only with that one special man."

Dominique arches an eyebrow at Jarod, her lips twisting in a wry smile.

"Men look for softness, Jarod, and women for something just a bit hard." 

Hearing her words, Jarod threw back his head and laughed, then he held out his hand to Dominique, watching as she put down the mug, now empty. The coffee had warmed her just enough to thaw out the fingers she now placed within his hand, and Dominique looked up into his eyes, which were filled with mischief. Standing, she allows him to place the wool coat over her shoulders, sliding her arms into the sleeves and hugging its warmth to herself.

"Why is it only you that I am unable to say no to? No matter what we do to each other, you and I always end up together again. Have you ever stopped to count just how many times we have killed each other?" 

She hears him chuckle as eyes swing toward them, and feels him put his hand under her elbow. 

"You silly thing, you hate it so when I call you little one, and yet you have never learned to guard your tongue." As he whispers these things in her ear, and she shivers at the feel of his breath on her neck. 

"What do I care of their opinions of me, Michelle? The only opinion that ever mattered to me was that of my chosen God, and he chose to reject what I offered to him." 

She could not keep a note of bitterness from entering her voice, but shook it off. 

"Enough of this talk, Jarod, what shall we do to enjoy ourselves? Should we take a tour of this city you love so well, or should we make our way back to your beautiful home, and even more beautiful bed?" 

Sliding her arms up around his neck, she rose up on the balls of her feet, rubbing her body against his as she does, pulling his head down so that her lips meet his. She felt his arms wrap aroud her, pulling her even closer to him, his hardening cock telling her that she had managed to attract his attention. Her open lips meet his, and their tongues danced together in a firey joining. She felt one of his hands grasping the back of her head, as he ground his lips into hers, their teeth clicking together as they fought to get closer, and still closer. The taste of him was intoxicating to her, and she felt herself trying to push even closer to him, her body responding to his.. 

"Excuse me, sir..."

It was the voice of the waiter, holding out the check for their coffee, left forgotten on the table. As reality began to regain its hold on Dominique, she glared at the man, but Jarod only laughed, and took the check.

"Dominique, darling, the poor man is right. This is not the place for such displays. Let the poor man live, and let us be on our way."

The Travels of Dominique Ch 2



Dominique sinks thankfully into the deep leather seat of Jarod's Jaguar, sighing as the heat switched on, warming her long legs. Crossing her legs, she leans her head back against the seat, glancing over at Jarod with a sly smile.

"I do so love your self-indulgent side, Jarod. Only the very best for you. Does that old couple still work for you, catering to your every whim? Or did they become suspicious and have to be replaced?"

Narrowing his eyes, Jarod returns to Dominiques look before returning his attention to the road, smoothly taking a turn before answering her question.

"Arthur and Martine retired from service not long after walking in on that little scene you left. I am sure that they had several questions about the blood on my clothing, carpet, and couch, but their, what was it you called it, overly generous wages kept them from asking too many questions. I think that they were just happy, when all was said and done, to have you out of their lives."

Dominique, widening her eyes in mock innocence, smiles sweetly.

"But Jarod, what could you ever mean? I am absolutely positive that Martine adored me."

Seeing the scowel that began to mark Jarod's face, she shrugs her shoulders indifferently.

"Well, she should have adored me, even if she didn't. What does it matter anyway? She was only a mortal."

Turning in her chair, Dominique gives Jarod a seductive smile, reaching out a hand to run a finger down the side of his neck, her hand continuing on its path downward, slowly caressing, until his hand over hers stops its downward movement.

"Not here, not now, Dom. The roads are icy, and I have to be able to concentrate on what I am doing."

"What on earth for? Jarod? Have you become worried about your health? Wish to live a long life and die of old age? I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but you are already well over 700 years old. I seriously doubt that you are going to die of old age."

"If this car were to wreck, and you and I were to die, it would not be a large matter of consequence, I agree, but Dom, my love, what about all of those people along the street? They will not just sit back up and stretch as if they had awakened from a short nap, would they? Once they die, that is all they will ever have, just a cold, dark grave."

Seeing her mystified look, Jarod sighs deeply, and tries another direction.

"Very well, Dominique, if we were to die in such a public manner, and be carted off to the morgue, we would be spending our afternoon thinking of ways to escape unnoticed, and then have to try to create new identities for ourselves, all rather than climbing into my nice soft bed and discovering all of the wonderful tortures that your evil little mind has been coming up with over the past six years. Does that sound like as much fun to you?"

Heaving a great sigh, smiling to herself as his eyes dropped to her breasts as she did so, Dominique crosses her arms across said chest, turning and leaning back in her seat once more.

"Very well, Jarod, I will behave myself for now, but do please drive faster."

The tree-lined streets continue to pass outside the windows, and soon they come to a more residential area of the city, one lined with towering old trees and gated estates. Pulling up to one of the ornate gates, Jarod reaches up and presses a button on the ceiling of the Jaguar. As the gates slowly open inward, Jarod inches in, revealing snow covered lawns that lead up to a small but comfortable chateau. Pulling up to the front, Jarod steps out of the car and walks around to open the door for Dominique as the butler opens the front door. Standing up, Dominique wraps her arm around Jarod, as much for his body warmth as anything, for her brief dash in the cold air toward the warmth of the house. Standing in the entry, Dominique looks around, seeing the study door open and a blazing fire in the grate. Turning so that the door frame surrounded her, Dominique raises an eyebrow questioningly at Jarod.

"So, Jarod, do you wish to beard the dragon?"

As their eyes meet, a shared memory begins to form of their last meeting, just over six years ago....

They are in the study, a fire in the fireplace creating a cozy orange glow to the darkening room. The servants, Arthur and Martine, have Christmas Carols playing cheerfully on the stereo. Why he allows them so much freedom Dom has never been able to understand. Jarod has given them their Christmas present, a basket filled with gourmet delicacies and a vintage bottle of Champagne. Dom smiled, remembering the trip to France about 40 years before when he had bought that Champagne.

His gift to her had been something of a joke between them. Flannel pajamas, complete with feet. He told her that now she could stop complaining about the cold so often, because she had something to keep her warm. there had also been an assortment of Christmas candies, most of which she ignored, pushing the chocolates aside as if they were poison. There was one thing that had a bit of potential, though. Picking up the candy cane, more of a peppermint staff than a peppermint stick, she unwraps it and, looking directly into Jarod's eyes, ran her tongue slowly up the candy before lowering her mouth over it. Dominique smiles as she sees Jarod begin to breathe more quickly, his eyes darkening. 

Standing up, she continues to slowly lick the candy, walking very slowly in front of him. As she approaches, Jarod stands in front of her, reaching out. Instead of walking into his outstretched arms, she hands him the candy, and then reaches down to undo the fly of his pants, pushing them down so that they drop to the floor. She then pushes him so that he is again sitting, an erection beginning to make itself apparent. Taking the candy from his hand, Dominique kneels in front of him, and again sucks the candy deeply into her mouth. Slowly withdrawing it, she runs her tongue up the side of the candy.

"Do you know how much fun peppermint can be? It causes tingles and prickles that are simply delicious. Did you know that?" 

With a very cat-like smile, Dominique runs her tongue along the candy again, this time leaning forward to then run her tongue along Jarods erection in a very similar fashion, sighing softly at his sharp intake of breath. Lifting her head once more, Dominique again licks daintily at the peppermint, gazing with mounting passion of her own into Jarods eyes. When her tongue is again coated in the sticky mint, she again runs her tongue over his penis, starting with the head and working down slowly, then leaning back slightly to blow gently on his erection, again causing a sharp intake of breath before she takes him completely into her mouth in one smooth movement, moaning as he grabs the back of her head, forcing his penis more deeply into her throat. As he begins to fuck her mouth, she begins to feel her own reactions beginning to build, hotter and deeper. The fact that she could make him react to her so strongly, when after so many centuries he should be rather immune to sexual wiles, had always been very addictive to her. As she feels her own orgasm beginning to build within her, she reaches over to lightly pinch the sensitive skin just behind his balls, causing him to arch and spurt into her mouth. Shaking with her own orgasm at the display of her power over him, she moans and begins to swollow, continuing to work his penis until he has drained completely into her, coming to an end of her own orgasm just as he himself finishes, his breathing harsh in her ears.

Dominique remains on the floor by the couch as they both recover, continuing to lick at the candy. As the fire begins to die down, Dominique begins to shiver. Looking down at her, Jarod chuckles, patting her gently on the head.

"You silly little thing, I got those flannels for you so that you would be warm, and there you sit, like a child, sitting on the floor licking your candy. You could always go and stir the fire, if you were feeling cold."

Hearing his words, she could hardly believe them. Sitting on the floor like a child? Her initial reason for being on the floor had little to do with childish things. Being compared to a child filled her mind with blinding rage. Looking down at the candy in her hands, once a red and white striped pole, now a rather leathal looking white stake, she turns to kneel in front of him once more, but this time, she raises both arms and drives it with unerring accuracy deeply into his heart. A look of shock fills his eyes as she pulls it out again, just before they dim, and he slumps over. Within a few moments, his eyes again open, and he finds her watching him calmly, the now bloody candycane still in her hands.

"I have never been silly, and it has been well over 530 years since anyone could, with any legitimacy, call me a child. I would thank you to remember that."

Standing once more, she looks down at the candy with distaste. Walking over to the fireplace, she drops the candy into the fire, watching briefly as the flames begin to sizzle and pop as they consume the sugar. Walking over to where she had taken off her shoes upon entering, she slipped them back on. Slamming the door as she leaves the room, she retrieves her coat from the hall before opening the front door and walking out into the snowy night.

"You know, Dominique, I now have almost the same intensity of disfavor for peppermint that you have for chocolate. How could you possibly do something as incredible as that, and something as horrible as that, with the very same thing? The memory of that encounter has fueled both my dreams and my nightmares for six years now. You are both an angel and a demon, my love, do you know that?"

Walking back toward Jarod, Dominique reaches up to caress his cheek softly before raking her nails roughly across, leaving a trail of red welts as she did. Grabbing her wrist, he twists her arm behind her back, pulling her to him roughly.

"Jarod, darling, it was your own fault, if you think of it. After so many years you should know better than to anger me."

Raising up on her toes, Dominique kisses Jarod, feeling his lips begin to open, holding him closer to herself with her one free arm as he deepens the kiss. Lifting his mouth from hers, he looks deeply into her eyes.

"Why is it, Dom, that no matter how much we fight, I just can't seem to turn my back on you completely? Even when I know I am doomed to be tormented and destroyed by you every time you leave me, I can't keep you out of my life?"

Tilting her head just a little to the side, the ends of her hair caressing the sleeve of his coat, she looks at him quietly for a moment before answering.

"It is simple, really, Jarod. You love me, and you want to believe that I love you as much. So you keep letting me back into your life, hoping that this time the combination will work. And it will, for a while. Until one of us gets bored again, or something else becomes just a little bit more interesting. You see, Jarod, neither of us is made for a normal life, but that is what you try to create here."

"Do I matter at all to you, Dom? Even just a little?"

"Oh Jarod, of course you do. You mean more to me than I can say."

Twisting out of his arms, she slithers out of her wool coat, tossing it to the waiting butler. Walking across the rug covering most of the floor of the entry, she pauses at the foot of the stairs.

"Now, however, what I would like to do is find that bed you keep promising me. Is it in the same place upstairs, or did you move it?"

Turning before he could answer, she hurries up the stairs as the sound of his laughter fills her ears.