It must be given freely........ (open to 1 female)

[Lyre01]

It must be given freely........ (closed for now)

I watch her tense up as each passenger leaves the train. Guess she doesn't like the thought of being alone, on a train, this late at night. She nervously looks around seeming to count her remaining anonymous companions......2. There are 2 left not including myself. Get the feeling she is unaware I am behind her, sitting in my dark little corner.....Watching her. Sometimes it's easy to overlook the obvious when you are afraid.

We pull into a flickering station, the doors unwillingly open to expell the last 2 lonely souls that failed to bring down any game on their nightly hunt. If only they would look up from the floor long enough, maybe they would want what was standing right infront of them. Instead they continue to demean themselves ritually as they try to find something that doesn't exist for either of them. Companionship. The doors close as the train starts to pull out into the darkness.

She still doesn't know I'm here. This makes me chuckle aloud. "Now she knows", I think to myself, as I see her stiffen at the sound of me being playfull. I chuckle again. She does not turn to look. She does not move at all. The fact that her purple sweater has suddenly stopped heaving up and down with each shallow breath leads me to believe she's even holding her breath. So pretty, so innocent, so scared....... soooo innocent.

"Breath" I say from the darkness. "Breeaathhh". She mistakingly takes my words as an invitation to turn. I assure her it is not. I said "Breath young lady. I did not say for you to turn around". Maybe it is my low steady voice that makes her freeze instantly or maybe the fear of not knowing what is going to happen next, either way, I have her attention.

I notice her knuckles have turned white, as she clenches the pole in front of her like a virgin dancer stepping on stage for the first time only to find her... 'Father'... sitting in the front row. I offer her no comforting words, instead I take 3 quiet steps towards her. She is slightly taller than me so I bring my arms around her, under her own and place my hands on top of hers. I do not press up against her. That would be presumptious and rude. I whisper a warm, cinnamon scented word "Breeaathh" onto her exposed neck. She exhales deeply and relaxes her grip. "Deep and slow......... I want you to breath deeeep and slloowww". "Yyesss Ssirrr" she stutters.

I place my foot between her legs and touch my knee to the inside of her thigh to draw her attention. She slowly tilts her head forward not sure what she is going to find between her legs. Abrubtly I kick her feet wider, making us the same height. She momentarily looses her footing expecting the worst from me, but quickly recovers and steadies herself as I take 3 silent steps back to my seat and sit. "What did I tell you?", I ask. She hesitates.... "Relax, you are okay..... Now..... What did I tell you?"............"Ddeeppp anand ssslow"........."Yyouuu sssaid you want mmme ttto bbbreath ddeeppp anand ssslow"..... "Gooooood. Now that I know you can take direction, we can begin".............

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

"What did I tell you?"

She hesitates....

"Relax, you are okay..... Now..... What did I tell you?"............

"Ddeeppp anand ssslow"........."Yyouuu sssaid you want mmme ttto bbbreath ddeeppp anand ssslow".....

"Gooooood. Now that I know you can take direction, we can begin".............

Begin...... Never had a word held such forboding. A chill of pure dread, near terror, and cold hopelessness slowly snaked over her, invading her skin, seeping into her blood, wrapping around her soul.

She closed her eyes. The vibration of the train, rolling into the deepening darkness of the tunnels, almost lulling her into a state of relaxation. Every few moments, the darkness was broken by a flash of light, as a marker lamp is passed, and seconds later, the darkness is all engulfing once more.

"ddddeeeeepp and sssssslow" she whispered to herself, trying to remain calm. Her fingers tighten around the pole, grasping the metal length as if it were her only lifeline to sanity, to safety. If she released that grasp, she truely believed she would be sent careening into the abyss of insanity, or worse, she would find herself among the 7 circles of hell.

Why had she not run?

When the doors to the train opened, why had she not pushed past the other 2 patrons and hurtled into the safety of the overhead lights, screaming for help, bursting up the stairs, into the night? Would she have been any safer there? Would she have escaped Him? Or would He have come for her anyway? Moving faster than her, grabbing for her, ripping into her? Throwing her to the ground, screaming, a silent sound that He would not allow to escape her lips?

Why had she not run??

Because He would have caught her. He was the Hunter, the Predator. He would have caught her easily, and listened to her agonizing screams as He set upon her, tearing her open, life's blood pouring from her, spraying, staining the ground, soaking the seats, even spraying onto the windows of the train, because she knew, she never would have even made it out of the train, her blood obscuring the vision of her writhing body, convulsing on the floor, silent screams upon her lips and in her wide open eyes.

She had sat there, as the train lurched to a stop, and watched the other 2, her only salvation, quickly exit the train, stepping out onto the platform, where it was safe, eyes cast downwards, not even daring to look up, to look at her. It was as if they knew. They knew they had been spared this night, that they had been saved, that He hunted her and not them. Tho they may not be so lucky next time..... They had heard His chuckling, maybe even His breathing. Had felt His evil...

She herself had felt His eyes, slithering over every part of her, laying claim to her throat, like an obscene collar, licking along her skin, fondling her breasts, snaking down over her belly, thrusting between her legs.

She had felt Him every night, on the train, and more, she had thought she had even felt Him in the safety of her own home. Always at night, when the sun slowly fell in a golden spray of light, and the shadows awakened, He awakened.

Why had she not run???

She knew she was His prey this night. She knew she was his prey every night. She knew the inevitable. Her trembling body, the heat of her fear cooling her skin in moist droplets, the flush of her face as she desperately tries to stay calm, the thundering of her heart poundling deafeningly in her ears, the searing of her blood, boiling in her terror. All told Him that she knew her fate.

Could He scent it? Taste it?

Her innocence, dripping from every pore like honey. Many saw her as a wild child. Given she did not possess the sweet beauty of a golden blonde princess, nor the feckle-faced smile of a happy-go-lucky red head, nor the laughter of a chestnut brown girl-next -door gushing about her new found love. With her midnight black mane, and stunning, just as black eyes, many saw her as a daughter of darkness, despite the fact she was more innocent than the others around her.

Did He know her? Or had she merely crossed His path and attracted His attention with the sweet scent of her beauty and innocence, with the unique stunning gleam in her midnight black eyes. How long had He been hunting her, stalking her, hungering for her? Did He know that amidst her innocence, an innocence perhaps He desired to feed upon, was a history so horrific that even she could no longer remember? Did He even know her name???

"Begin"...... the word echoed in her mind.

"yyyyyessss Ssssir"



http://s15.photobucket.com/albums/a360/AmbrosiaCaress/angelight.jpg

 

[Lyre01]

It must be given freely......

I watch her... I watch her body tremble as she speaks. I watch the fine black hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she utters 2 words. "Yyyyessss Ssssir..". I reply honestly and with great care, making sure she understands full well the nature of my visit. "To begin" I say. "To begin something completely new or to begin just another chapter in the same mundane book you've been scribbling in your whole life? This is the question I pose to you...... Madame".

I say madame, though in my mind I've already given her a name. From the moment I saw her, she has been Anne. No, no, she's been Annie. I loose myself briefly in a flood of memories some painful, others........ not so painful. Then it hits me. It hits me as it did that first time, hard. It's her smell.

Night after night I've observed her struggle not to scream as the darkened tunnels try to tear away at her flourescent security blanket. Night after night I've sat and watched her fight the urge to bolt out the doors as they reluctantly open at her stop............ And night after night I've closed my eyes and pulled her scent in deep to carry me through the imminent lonliness.

I watch as her fear turns to sweat glistening on the back of her neck, as the strobbing station lights do little but offer........ Annie..... false hope. I watch as the sweat tries desperately to hide under her sweater. I sit back and watch as she shivers........ Shivers as the chilled winter's air stuck down here since rush hour, struggles to steal some warmth for itself by tracing her back.

My eyes close as I inhale deeply, wanting to taste Annie on the back of my tongue. I recognize the smell of her sweat, sweat born of her terror. Terror of her past, her present and well, that which has yet to reveal itself. I recognize the smell of urine in the gusset of her panties mixed with the rusty scent of blood. I recognize the smell of her cheap yet pleasing body oil. I've smelled all these before this evening. Tonight however, there is something else. I smell life. I smell excitement. I smell.........Annie.

"Madame, if you wish to continue in fear, we can end this right now!". I say with a stern voice, like that of a dissapointed yet loving Father. "I could've torn your throat out and watched you drown in your own blood while searching for a hint of air. I could have... (I start to speak as I quietly get back up and position myself behind her) I could have simply walked up to you and licked the sweat from your neck.". I slowly stick my tongue towards Annie's neck to sample the sweet air around her. "I could have done these and many other things yet I have not. Instead I wish to present you with a request.". My she tastes sweet....she tastes ssoooo terribly sweet.... The thought rushes through my mind as to not distract me for to long, then I make my request. "I would like for you to take 3 hairs from your head and give them to me." "Wwhattt??" she replies. "Will you take 3 strands of hair from your head and give them to me?"...........

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

Had the train stopped? Halted at the end of it's route? Or at the next station, miles from the last? It felt that way to her, the world seemed to cease rotating, the air ceased movement, silence flowed out, cascading down along the tunnels, out from the entrances, flooding all with it's ultimate quiet.

For her, that was exactly how it felt. Everything stopped, as His words penetrated.

All she could feel was His presence, right behind her, the sound of His slow, steady breaths, so loud in the quiet, the feel of His body, not touching, but enveloping her none-the-less. His voice, a whisper and a scream, in the depths of her mind.

"I would like for you to take 3 hairs from your head and give them to me."

"Wwhattt??" Her words could barely get past her quivering lips.

"Will you take 3 strands of hair from your head and give them to me?"...........

She wanted to turn and look at Him. Wanted Him to see the confusion that now gleamed in her dark eyes. Her mind swirling, twisting with His words..

"To begin something completely new or to begin just another chapter in the same mundane book you've been scribbling in your whole life? This is the question I pose to you...... Madame".

"Madame, if you wish to continue in fear, we can end this right now!".

"I could've torn your throat out and watched you drown in your own blood while searching for a hint of air. I could have... I could have simply walked by and licked the sweat from your neck.".

"I could have done these and many other things yet I have not. Instead I wish to present you with a request."

"Will you take 3 strands of hair from your head and give them to me?"...........

But she could only remain frozen, her eyes thankfully focused on the dirty train floor in front of her. Her body tensed when He drew near. She didn't want to gaze upon Him, she was afraid of what would or could happen if she did. She did not have to hear Him when He drew closer, she could feel Him, feel the chill that surrounded Him, reaching out cold tendrils to fondle, tickle, at her. A deep breath drawn in and held, beneath her purple sweater, her breasts heaved for a moment, before going still, except for the swell of her nipples, darkening in color, peaking in the soft chill that now caressed them.

"why?" she had to ask. She had to know. 3 strands of her hair may seem inconsequential to most, but it was a part of her. She wanted to know why He wished that small part of her.

 

[Lyre01]

It must be given freely......

"Miss I will give you this one opportunity to search yourself. If you'd like, look deep or be superficial if you wish, approach me and........ our...... current situation in what ever manner you choose. Know to question......., to question my actions and directives you will find, will do little more than aggitate me.". This being said, I feel the need to illustrate my point and so I simply ask you, "May I Young Miss?".

She starts to speak up as her nerves get the best of her, but quickly catches herself. "Mmayyy yyo......... yyyess......(she closes her eyes and exhales) yes you may.". Her reply is steady and sure, yet humble. I do not wish to betray her trust so early in our dance, but she needs to understand. I grab the back loop on her pants with one hand, giving her a quick yank so she readies herself. My other hand makes it's way under the front of her purple sweater, her whole body tensing as I start traveling upwards. I find her belly button pooled with her sweat. She is petrified, stone petrified. I could do anything.......... I slowly make my way toward her sternum, feeling the outline of her ribs as I go. She winces. Must have been a ticklish child, but fights the joy of laughter now. Why? Why has life become so.... so dark for her. We all need to enjoy the simple pleasures. Do we not? I make may way between her breasts trying not to disturb them, though I fight the urge to dig my nails into them. My hand pokes out the top of her sweater dripping wet as I close it around her throat...

"Trust, trust is the basis of this..... this relationship. I trust you to listen and you trust me to indulge. Indulge not just myself, but more to the point, you. You need not tell me what you want or need. Your body language does that just fine. Besides your stentch tells me more.... more than you probably would like it to" I squeeze the arteries in her neck just enough so she can feel the blood starting to pound in her temples. "Trust, Young Miss. It is all about trust.". I release in time for her to quickly exhale and take a long panicked breath. I slowly start to travel back down her moistened chest only to find her heart crashing against it. I wish to break through her chest plate so I could craddle her heart and give it some reassurance. Instead I tug on her pants once again, bringing her closer to me, digging my nail into her cleavage and clawing the skin till I feel a piece tear free under my nail. She lets out a squeal as she pushes her body up against mine. As I free my arm from under her sweater I notice some blood on my finger. Sniffing it, I wish to taste it. I'm dying to taste it, her blood and her flesh. I deny myself and continue our conversation.

"This is the first time you are meeting me like this, so I will do you the curtesy of being.........somewhat patient and will explain one simple concept to you. Though I appreciate silence (been searching for a peaceful existence as far back as I care to remember), that is my preference and may not be yours. I welcome any attempt at conversation that you may offer. However, as far as questions........, ask what you will of me, but know if you choose to stay, it is not your place to question what I ask of you.".

Her station is coming next...... I start to feel anxious. I laugh to myself. Anxious, haven"t felt that or much of anything since I..... I found her again.... I slip off the bank of sanity and back into the flood of memories I've been surpressing for years. The car door is open, Pearl Jam is playing "Ooohhh IIII oohhh II'mmm Sstilll Aaallivvee!" I bend down to see Dinosaurs, Marvin the Martian and Smurfette doing some bizarre balancing act on her dashboard........, then...then for the first time I..... I smell her.... I bend down further to.............

The subway doors start to open. "We are here young Miss. This is your stop is it not? If ever you should indulge your urge to flee, tonight may be that night. Know if you stay your life ends tonight..., go..., and your life may never begin. Make your choice."........

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

"May I Young Miss?".

A simple question. An innocent question.

"Mmaayyy yyo......... yyyess......" she closes her eyes and exhales " yes you may."

Did she really have a choice? She felt His hand, slither beneath her sweater, an evil serpent gliding along her sweat moistened skin. As He drew near her chest, her breath caught, as if daring not to breath, afraid of awakening the beast within.

His hand closing around her throat, "Trust, trust is the basis of this..... this relationship. I trust you to listen and you trust me to indulge. Indulge not just myself, but more to the point, you. You need not tell me what you want or need. Your body language does that just fine. Besides your stentch tells me more.... more than you probably would like it to"

What was her body language telling Him now? What was her scent telling Him? Her taste, her fear, her trembling?

His words fading into a jumbled twisting dream, nightmare, that invades her mind, a nightmare that becomes all to real when she feels that slight flash of pain, and the warm trail of blood. He scratched her..... couldn't He wait?? Couldn't He wait until she offered her sweetness to Him? Surely she would, wasn't that what He wanted???

The train shuffled to a stop, the doors inhaling, snapping open. Deep in her chest, her heart was beating so loudly, that is nearly drowned out Eddie Vedder's voice while he sang, "Ooohhh IIII oohhh II'mmm Sstilll Aaallivvee!" ... Pearl Jam seemingly erupting from His memory and into the train station. She felt Him tense, stiffen, it had been unexpected, yes? Very unexpected. It was clear then that He was not always.... in control. Not always.

Could He hear it, the beat of her heart that is? Over the music, over the memory. Could He see it, pounding furiously in her chest?

"Know if you stay your life ends tonight..., go..., and your life may never begin. Make your choice."........

Hadn't she known that all along? Hadn't she been fooling herself into thinking she had escaped Him? Or was it more along the lines of she thinking she had managed to escape what He offered. The life He offered. The destiny He offered.

Was the song that so loudly played in the train station coming from His memory? Or her own? The car door is open, the car stereo playing the all too familiar song... "Ooohhh IIII oohhh II'mmm Sstilll Aaallivvee!"

Hadn't she made her choice once, when that car door opened......???!!!

Her eyes rolled back for a moment, threatening to drag her back, screaming, but a quick intake of breath, a bite of her lower lip by her own teeth, hard enough to draw blood, and the sound of Him, scenting, as if drinking in the sweetness that surrounded her.

Maybe, she had been wrong before, and this was the life she was destined to live. The life her soul had drawn her back to, again, and again. Her life ending tonight, would only awaken her living. A sudden loathing came over her, a sense of dread, of cold darkness.

She could not escape Him, He had just proven that, having hunted her down, after so long. She even looked different, sounded different, yet her scent, remained the same, always the same.

She said nothing, letting the train doors slowly whisk closed, sealing her fate, making her choice.

She wondered, what He would call her this time.

Her mind went back to His request, if she had said yes to that, the dance would have gone on, and on, and on, and she would have tasted freedom, for a little while longer. She never would escape Him, He had her scent, from before, that same scent, and would have again, if she had said yes to His request.

Instead, she said nothing.

The train lurched forward.

 

[Lyre01]

It must be given freely.......

The doors hiisssss closed. The train lurches forward. A young lady makes her choice, unwilling to allow the moment to pass......., unexplored.

"Thank you for not disappointing..... I knew you wouldn"t...., couldn't bring yourself to simply bolt out the doors, just to take the 24 steps to the staircase, the 32 steps up to the surface, where you walk the 9 blocks to the newstand for those mints you use to wash the taste of the day from the back of your throat."

"By the time you have ground the third mint to moist, chaulky dust inbetween your teeth...., another 3 blocks..., the door man will have already ushered you inside the apartment building you and your...... father...... call home. The elevator will be open, waiting to carry you up 17 floors so you can take the 11 steps down the hallway to the left, where you will stand outside your door, dreading going in. This has been your routine since you were 15 (in this life, I think to myself), since your mom died. You still struggle with what is worse...., to go into the lifeless apartment and say "Hello" waiting to hear... her... her loving voice reply "Hello my 'Young Miss' ", or to say "Hello" and have...him say....'Heeeyyyyyyy'."

"When the subway doors opened at your stop, I saw no shuffling of your feet. You did not even look up to say goodbye to that life. I did feel you drop your hips, rooting yourself where we currently stand. I did catch the one tear you let yourself spend on the memories which have been eating away at the grey walls in the apartment you dwelled in, but never lived in for years. I tasted the salt........, the salt from years of denying the truth. The truth about..her, the truth about.. him and the truth about...... yourself. These are your truths to carry alone or to share. I will not repeat what we already know. When you are ready........, you will, pardon the expression..., shit... them out and leave them where they fall...... When you...., are ready."

"As the doors closed, I did hear your heart skip a beat. As the doors closed, I did hear 13 years of shallow breathing finally come to an end as you inhaled as though you had been baptised by a fanatic clergyman who finally decided you were.... clean of sin.... and allowed you to breath air again. I did feel the chill leave you as the adrenaline helped to bring a flush over your entire body. I could smell you..., your fragrance..., as the excitment took control and heated every inch of you. May I say....... Thank You..., 'Young Miss', thank you for the choice you have made.".

"I have been refering to you thus far as 'Young Miss' to try and ease your mind some. Thought approaching you with something...., familiar might help reduce the anxiety that has been like oxygen for you, all these years. Your birth certificate says your name is 'Anne', though most have called you 'Annie". New life......, a new life deserves a new name......." (Till you are ready to remember your 1 true name. I am tempted to say this aloud, but feel it may be to soon.).

I release the loop on the back of her faded jeans and return to my seat to ponder. "What would be a suitable name.....?" I muse, out loud.

"Young Miss, while I search for an appropriate name......., what about those 3 hairs.........?".

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

Each word that spilled from His mouth, each truth that He let roll forth, each statement that swirled around her as the train pitched forward, lifted from her the heaviest of weights. It felt as if she had been carrying a burden as heavy as a sack of bricks, ever since the moment, some 13 years ago, that she realized just what the..... deal was.... the moment she had first felt Him, nestled within the depths of a school girl's dreams.

Oh the first few years of her life were..... normal. No thought of Him, no memory. Her young mind would never have been able to comprehend that, and in an act of self preservation, she had those first years of normalcy. Of being a child, a little girl, whose biggest challenge of the day was what color dress to put on her favorite doll.

But, one thing neither she, nor He for that matter, ever had control over, were the others in her life. The one's who birthed her, raised her. Her recognition of Him came early, much earlier than perhaps even He had wanted. He had come to her, on a night, when she needed Him more than maybe she ever had, her mother.... her mother had......

had.......

She was gone now, that was all that mattered.

He had come that very night, into the depths of her dreams. A lonely, scared, desperately sad youngster, He had been her only friend, in that despairing darkness.

Funny, He being a friend. At least He was familiar. She had held onto Him, perhaps a bit surprising to Him. Feeding off His strength, until she found her own, several years later.

That was when the nightmares began. And He turned from a comfort, to a horror, to her.

Yet she could not rid herself of Him, even tho, at one point, she thought, she prayed, that she had, no matter what strength He had given her during those dark times...


"I have been refering to you thus far as 'Young Miss' to try and ease your mind some. Thought approaching you with something...., familiar might help reduce the anxiety that has been like oxygen for you, all these years. Your birth certificate says your name is 'Anne', though most have called you 'Annie". New life......, a new life deserves a new name......."

"What would be a suitable name.....?"

Anne..... Anne Violet Mason. A simple name. Annie was indeed what her mother had called her, and what her few friends had called her.

Personally, she never liked the name. Another name danced on the very edges of her memory, but she could not grasp it, she never could, at least not yet. She did remember Him whispering it in her dreams, especially when she was so young, but again, the name eluded her.


"Little Miss, while I search for an appropriate name......., what about those 3 hairs.........?".

His request snapped her back to the here and now. The 3 hairs, so insignificant, yet once she presented them...... it would be done.

"yyes Sir" her whispered response was almost immediate. Letting go of the pole was a whole other issue. Again, she had the horrifying sensation of falling, screaming, into the agonizing, twisting, inescapable, circles of Hell.

It took an amazing amount of strength, and will power, to release the pole with one hand. Carefully, she pulled 3 long strands of her midnight black hair from her head. She liked this color, it was deep, rich, mysterious, crowning her with a shadowed halo. She then slowly sunk to the floor of the still moving train, her other hand still anchored to the pole. Once on her knees, she finally let go, pausing for a moment, thinking the floor of the train would open up and swallow her. But it did not, it remained solid.... for now...

Hairs in hand, trembling, she turned, eyes focused only on the dirty floor before her, and crawled to His feet, where He sat. She took in the dark leather of His boots, but dared not look up. Instead, with her ebon eyes lowered, she offered Him the 3 strands, of her hair, a part of her, a peice of her, that He would take ownership of...... again.....

 

[Lyre01]

It must be given freely........

It takes an amazing amount of strength, and will power, for her to release one hand from the pole. I watch as she carefully pulls the 3 long strands of hair I requested out from their roots. Almost 18 inches each, tip to tip. More than enough for what I need them for.

Through the years her hair as been many colors and taken on many styles. This incarnation of Annie has lasted almost 6 years. It's been 6 years since she gave into him, convinced herself it wasn't wrong and that he loved her. "It's been 6 years since you died inside Young Miss" I whisper in her direction, staring at her, on her knees. "Tonight you will be..... reborn.".

Hairs in hand, trembling, she turns, eyes focused only on the dirty floor before her. "She is...... CRAWLING.... Why does she feel she must crawl? I have not beaten nor abused this creature infront of me. I have taken no liberties without her permission", my mind screams at itself. The blood starts to boil within my veins. I look at her through the top of my eyes, ready to pounce and end her suffering now....... instead I manage to push 4 words out in a low growl..... "Iii aammm nnott hhimm.".

"You have crawled to my feet like a broken dog still begging for affection from it's vile master. You stare at my boots like you've found a soiled spot you wish to lick clean. Is that it...... you think my invitation of freedom from that contemptious man was made just so I could enslave you again......." My breathing has become rapid and unsteady....

With her ebon eyes lowered, she offers me the 3 strands of her hair. They were a part of her, a piece of her....... She trembles as she reaches up towards me, her pale outstretched hand shaking as she holds the 3 hairs, waiting for me to accept her gift. I have scared my precious Annie. Necessary maybe, but not what I had wanted.

I place one hand on her shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. I wrap my fingers loosely around her wrist before I take her hair...., "Annie..., you are never to bow down to anyone, most of all me. While you live...., I want you to live and live proud. You have the heart of a hungry lioness hunting to feed her cubs, the statuesque form of a Queen...... and by no means least of all, the righteous drive of an......... Angel.....".

Leaning forward, "Young Miss, I thank you for your gift and accept it gleefully. Now, we can trully begin our game. May I show Young Miss my gratitude...?" She has been through alot and is still trying to process what exactly she has agreed to become a part of. She does not look up, nor does she speak......, she simply nods to show her approval.

I use the hand from her wrist to gently remove the 3 hairs from her now quieted hand and use the hand from her shoulder to slowly yet firmly tilt her head upward. Her hair has fallen over her face yet leaves a small spot of her smooth forehead exposed. Her eyes still closed, I press my lips to her head, closing my own eyes, I kiss her... I kiss her with a love... a love for all the ages.

Opening my eyes, I find she has folded her hands into her lap and has the slightest hint of a grin she surely is not even aware of. Maybe there is hope after all.....

"Annie...., back to your pole please, while I think......".

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

"Iii aammm nnott hhimm.".

The words made her heart nearly stand still, and for a moment, it did.

Had she made a mistake?

Or did He not understand?

"You have crawled to my feet like a broken dog still begging for affection from it's vile master. You stare at my boots like you've found a soiled spot you wish to lick clean. Is that it...... you think my invitation of freedom from that contemptious man was made just so I could enslave you again......."

She paused, still not looking upwards, but pondering His words. Was she weaker this time? Had the circumstances of her existance sapped any strength she had from her? Hadn't she felt the cold steel of His collar before? But......

But.....

In those cases, had she not begged for it? Given herself willingly? Crawled to His feet, not out of fear, not out of loathing, not out of anger, but out of love, love and submission? The desire to be His, to please Him and only Him, to feel the pleasure only He could bring?

She had not begged this time. Oh she had agree'd, by staying on the train, she had agree'd, but that was not begging, that was not submitting.... that.... was not love.... Love would not come for a very long time. She had crawled to Him out of fear, a fear that He wished to tear apart.


"Annie..., you are never to bow down to anyone, most of all me. While you live...., I want you to live and live proud. You have the heart of a hungry lioness hunting to feed her cubs, the statuesque form of a Queen...... and by no means least of all, the righteous drive of an......... Angel.....".

Did she? Maybe in the past she had. Did she this time? Or would she disappoint Him so bitterly.........


"Young Miss, I thank you for your gift and accept it gleefully. Now, we can trully begin our game. May I show Young Miss my gratitude...?"

Her gift, a simple gift, of 3 strands of hair. A part of her. He desired her soul, she knew that. He always did. Funny, she had not yet, in all this time, through all these ages, offered that one thing to Him.

She nodded to His question. When He leaned close, lifting her head, her midnight dark eyes fluttered closed. It was too soon, too soon to gaze upon the one that had haunted her dreams for so long... how many years had it been?

How many years since she died inside? Since she had let her soul whimper and fade? 6? It felt so much longer, lifetimes.....

The touch of His lips, along the smooth skin of her forehead, both heated and cold, quite the interesting combination. The feel of His love, warming, and the cold of His hate, that has so often driven her away, all coiled into that one brush of His lips.

Yet she relaxed into that small kiss, letting her lips curl into the slightest of grins. He always had the softest lips, the softest tongue, and she could not help but blush when thinking where He may want to place those lips and tongue. The tiniest of shivers reveals where her thoughts wonder.

"Annie...., back to your pole please, while I think......".

"As You wish, Sir" she quietly says, again not looking upon Him. She turns, but does not crawl this time. Once upon her feet, she steps to the pole, grasping with both hands. Altho the fear seems to have quieted. The image of the depths of Hell no longer so prevelant in her mind.

What would He call her this time? What would be His chosen name for her, during this time of rebirth, this time of change? And what, would He do to her? Pain? Pleasure? Lust? Sex? Torture? Love? Screams? Cries? Beggings? Collars? Punishment? Reward?

Leaning forward just a little, she let her body rest against the silver pole, the curve of her ass facing Him, and between her legs, where her jeans held her so closely, so tightly, the slightest bit of wetness, betraying what His simple kiss had done to her.

 

[Lyre01]

It must be given freely.......

"As You wish Sir.", my Annie says with her head still down, eyes diverted from my all telling gaze. She knows not to look at me, not yet anyway. She turns, for a moment I doubt her strength and think she will crawl back to the pole...., I'm glad to be wrong. She does not crawl, instead, once upon her feet, she steps to the pole purposefully, grasping it with both hands, secure on the spot she stands. This game, her mind may not yet recall, but her body unerringly does.

She leans forward just enough to let her body rest against the pole. Her curves. I remember every inch of her body, though this time she is a little thinner and more muscular. 'He'...... he almost snuffed out any divinity that was left in her and the fault for that lies partially with me. We all are who we are. Change of one's name does not change one's soul. Love is still love and perversion is still perversion......... I can't take my eyes from her ass.....

I loose myself in a memory.... I loose myself between her muscular thighs. All it had taken in the past, was the slightest hint of genuine affection, or a couple of kind words from my mouth, the mouth that yearns to taste.........her. Those kind words would always cause Annie to become moist, cause her legs to quiver with the anticipation of a frenzied release.......

Staring....... I stare at the spot where her jeans caress the folds of her womanhood. They squeeze her tight, ever so tight. I take notice of the slightest hint of her wetness, it tells on her, betraying what my simple gesture has done to her.

"Young Miss?" I feel no need to wait for her reply.... "I wish to tell you my current name, though it is of little significance. After all, how can I expect you to share if I am not willing to do the same. I will say this name only once, so I want you to listen carefully. An-nie, my name is....... On-dre....". I watch her as I speak the first syllable of my name. It is familiar to her. Annie's ears perk up as it is spoken. The moment of recognition flees quickly though, as I finish the pronunciation of my name....

Taking pause to acknowledge the 3 strands of hair currently in my possession, I slowly raise them so as to better inhale the memories of decades past. I see joys and laughter, I feel loves lost and hates which she cannot yet let go of. Worst of all......, I feel her pain. The pain of betrayal..., of his betrayal of her and her betrayal of herself. He made her doubt everything about herself...... My fault. I couldn't stay away...... I JUST COULDN'T STAY THE FUCK AWAY!

"You and I both have a past....... Today, we both start anew. 9 days from now is my birthday....", Annie's head snaps up as she remembers....... I repeat myself and continue my thought, "9 days from now is my birthday, as it is also yours. Though it may be somewhat premature, I would like to give us both a gift. Is this acceptable to you?".

Still trying to swallow the fact she had forgotten that her birthday was coming..., (she had tried to do this every year since her Mother ...... passed..?). How had her Mother died and why couldn't she remember? What was she blocking? What was she afraid of? Still trying to figure out how this familiar stranger knows so much about her..... "Is his birthday really the same as mine?", she ponders. "To much to figure out at once.....", she tries to relax and let it all go........

She finally responds, "This is acceptable Sir"..., "I am glad." I tell her. "The gifts I wish to bestow on us are, not so new..., new names. I am here as an instrument, an instrument of your freedom and revelation, as such the name I've chosen for myself is....... 'LYRE'...". Again, electricity races up her spine making every muscle, every sinew tingle at the mention of this familiar name.... she dosn't yet comprehend... "You, you have been like a whispering breeze for me over the years. You have been not unlike the sound of my own beating heart. You have been...... a song..., the only song. The sound of the name I gave you then is the same sound as the name I give you now....... You are my pulse, you are my 'LYRIC'...".....

Tears start to well up in her eyes. "Lyric", the sound echoes in her head. "Lyric", memories start to come rushing in.... to many, to much, to fast, to soon....... "Lyric"..., this name, this name she remembers..... This name, she knows.....

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

Lyric....

Lyric.... for singing to the Lyre ... for being set to music ... often a poem set to the strings of a melody...


Lyric... this name she remembers... this name she knows....


It should have been good memories that flooded her mind, happy times, quiet times, pleasure and love. Memories of a simpler time. A small village, the gardens she tended, her garden, she remembered, her garden, that flourished just outside the door of her small home, an explosion of color, pinks and yellows, reds and whites, flowers reaching upwards to the sun, the scents of violets and lilacs, so many plants bearing fruits, vegtables, and herbs. She found such solace in her garden.

And the stream... the stream that flowed, just behind, life giving cool water that helped nourish the life that surrounded her. Always life surrounded Lyric, life and innocence, such a powerfuil combination. The closer she drew to the stream, the louder that wonderful sound of water gently flowing over rocks. The storms of the night before had filled the stream... And Lyric even liked the storms, the rumble of thunder, the blinding flash of lightening.

A smile danced upon her lips at the memory deepened, drawing her to the happiest place she knew, at the edge of that stream, allowing the water's slow cascade over the rocks to accompany her voice. Lyric's voice was that of an angel, as she softly sang, keeping her voice soft, like the fluttering wings of a butterfly tickling the breeze ... she singing a lullaby to herself, kneeling down at the stream's embankment and dipping her slender fingers within the cool embrace of the water, touching the music, feeling it flow.

But the memory quickly turned very dark.

Very very dark...

She could not see who grabbed her, but in all honesty, it didn't matter. It was always the same one, just in a different face. But this time, there were 2, was she getting stronger? That 2 were needed to subdue her? 2 were needed to control her???

One was Karl Bobbins, the village blacksmith, and not the nicest of men. The other she was not so sure, but again, did it matter? He was always the same, even if she did not immediately recognize the face. Sometimes, she wished she would never recognize his face, hear his voice, feel his hatred, his evil.

Her eyes, full of fire, the fire of hatred and fear, alight upon the Other, before being drawn to a nearby table. She saw a myriad of things, horrible things, ropes, bindings, leather and steel, things that caused pain, and things that she had never seen before and did not want to know what they were used for. Her eyes widened in fear as she looked back to the Other Man before her...

“Sit down my dear.” He spoke calmly, kindly

She hated his voice....

She simply stared back at Him, not saying anything, nor making a move to sit.

“I’d like her seated.” came the request.

Karl Bobbin's large hand came to rest upon her shoulder and she was ... seated.... with him standing next to her. Just being this close to him made her sick and she swore she could smell.... smell.... his own arousal on those thick fingers. The scent disgusted her.

“Do you intend to stay seated my dear?”

She nodded. Anything to get Karl away from her.

She listened to his rantings, always he was ranting, this time ...about siding with the "Evil" against all that was Holy. Her eyes betrayed her emotions, from sheer disbelief to near rage at his accusations, to the underlying fear that coiled in her belly in a cold sickening ball.

And now, now he wanted to STRIP her??? To check her body for..... markings???? She was in complete shock, which for the moment overrode her fear. But again, she had expected this, somewhere deep inside, only her conscious refused to believe this was happening.

"You are out of your mind... Sir" she answered, trying to give a show of strength, trying to desperately hard, trying to keep her pounding heart under control.

He paid her no heed, launching into his tyraid a second time. Repeating himself. Leering, shouting, preaching. He actually expected her to strip before him. She did not move. She did not say anything, afraid that whatever came out of her mouth would be misunderstood. And, truth be told, she was absolutely terrified. Her eyes darted around the room, she was trapped, always trapped.

Where was He?

She went white as they stepped toward her... “I’d like her naked.”

Bobbin's hand went to her top, grasping and ripping, the soft cotten easily tearing as he pulled. Lyric screamed, struggling, fighting the 2 men as they tore at her garments. They were not delicate, and now both, were aroused. Karl Bobbins was almost drooling as he grabbed at her bra, pulling it free, hearing the elastic and cotten tear at the force at which he pulled. She was kicking and screaming, forced to the floor with the 2 men over her, the chair she had been sitting on skittering off and falling with a loud thud. Moments later, she was crying and begging them to stop... "PLEASE.. please don't do THIS" she begged, but neither Bobbins, nor the Other One, paid her any heed. She felt a hand down her skirt, pulling at the clasps, another, it had to be Bobbins, had pushed his fingers beneath her undergarments. He was trying to feel her... FEEL HER SEX....

"PLEASE.... STOP" she screamed...

He, the Other, stood, calling Karl Bobbins off her, leaving her on the floor, desperately trying to cover herself. Her white peasant blouse she had been wearing, was ripped asunder, material hanging open, her arm over her breasts the only thing holding a thin layer of material over them, her skirt was open in the back, torn in several places, but at least not off her, her undergarments were pulled down. She had managed to curl her legs under her and sit up, if she had been still sprawled on the floor, her underpanties pulled down, her sex would have easily been visiable. Gasping, head down, trying to hold back her tears.

"No further outbursts Miss Lyric…You will strip or we will strip you.”

She shuddered at just the sound of her name, coming from his lips. It sounded foul and sickening.

"Please, don't make me do this. I have done nothing to you. I am nothing to you" She finally lifted her head, hoping she would see something, perhaps mercy, in his eyes. Instead she saw...... lust.... evil... depravity... as he stared back down at her.

Crying quietly, she lowered her arm, letting what was left of her top fall away, exposing her breasts. Both were round and heavy, creamy white skin, smooth and supple, tipped with dark dusky pink nipples, which were swollen slightly. Seemed Karl had managed to pinch them both during the struggle and it was apparent they were aroused. Not looking at him, she slowly, ever so slowly, got to her feet, letting the torn and open skirt fall... her undergarments already lowered, again thanks to Karl. Her hips curved nicely, taut belly gliding down, to her nether regions, her soft downy hair a dark covering, light and curling, the pink lips still visable beneath. She stepped back, away from Him, looking down, but she had managed to stop shaking....

"I hate you" she whispered thru her tears.

Lyric shook her head, desperate to halt the memory, but there was only one way to do that.

She turned, finally letting her eyes meet His, wanting to loose herself within, needing His touch, His strength, to quiet the horrors of her mind.

"please" she whispered, as the train slowly came to a stop beneath her feet.

Was this the new beginning? Was this her new life? And would it end differently than all the others?

 

[Lyre01]

http://images1.zoomonga.com/photos1/321d7a6a-b953-477e-b538-803847b66851_small.jpeg

Though her eyes were locked on his, he knew that his darkened corner would reveal only that which he wanted her to see. Shadows seemed to surround him, cover him....., protect him. All but his eyes. Like the blue at the bottom of a flame they danced and licked at the dark...., piercing it. Piercing her.

"Lyric...... It has been far to long since I've been able to say that name while looking in the eyes of the one that inspires me so. I've muttered it.., to myself.., in the dark. Angry, lonely....., cold. It's been so cold here in the shadows. Unable to reveal myself to her. Unable to tell her who we trully are......" His thoughts occupy him for the moment...

He had heard her say "Please", though he pretended not to. He cared not that she looked in his direction..., pleading for him, begging him to make the.....'Demons'...... go away. He felt her purity...., she reaked of it...... This angered him.

The rage welling up inside was by no means directed at her, neither was it directed at her....'Father', nor any of the others who have soiled her over the centuries. He knew fault was not to be pushed on their...., 'Creator'..... It was his cross to carry, it was his choice...... He had shown weakness once, no..., no.., many times had he had the chance to end her torment, but could not. He was selfish, in love..., obsessed. His desire has always been stronger than his....Divinity.

....."Divinity..., was I ever worthy of such a distinction...? To be divine..... Through divinity one would think there would be salvation. Instead, I have been damned. Not for my sin, but for his. This has always been my argument. This is why my poor Lyric suffers. It is his pride, his ego that has sentenced us to exist like this, stuck in this recurring nightmare.".

"At the moment of our creation, as our eyes opened for the first time, it was eachother we first saw. When the word, 'His Word', should've been the first thing we heard, it was not. Instead it was the 'Soul Song' we sang to one another. I welcomed her and she me with the most loving of embraces as 'He' stood with open arms....., waiting."

"I never questioned him nor did she. We obeyed ever decree he layed down without hesitation. When the "Great Rebellion" raged, we never faltered or doubted the cause. We did what was asked of us. Why was that not enough!? She had become my sun and I her moon. This..., this was wrong in his eyes..., so, we were given a choice..........."

"Choice...., what kind of choice is it when you must choose between emptiness or lonliness? When you can either have the chill of longing or the burning of rage as your companion for all eternity? When you can either abandon that which is your world or live with the guilt of being the cause for it's destruction.".

A memory, a name....., Lyre hisses and snarles from the bossom of black which surrounds him. The subdued blue flames of his eyes, change.... they redden and intensify. The shadows begin to cower as they feel his anger rise....

Lyric had been transfixed on this mysterious being while thoughts raged in his head. She has not so much seen but felt his emotions. From the icey claws which crept beneath her purple sweater causing her nipples to harden and ache to the searing heat which she now felt deep inside her loins..., she has been aware of........., of his thoughts?

As much as he was.., of hers. "Kaarrlll....., Kaarrlll Bobbiinnssss...." he remembers that name to well. The name penetrates deep, Lyre's eyes turn orange... "The heat..., his heat is burning me..... Buurrnnn mmmeeee......", Lyric, fantasizes to herself as she feels her lips start to swell, her clit rubbing the seam of her jeans.

"How long has it been?", He looks up, trying to pull the answer from the air. "Almost 600 years ago.", The answer comes swifter than he would like. It was the village's blacksmith Karl Bobbins, a young Priest (a weak minded fool who had been trying to convert villagers since he had arrived the day prior) and 'Him', her......, her 'Father'. "Did he think I couldn't see him for who he really was. Maybe that was part of the punishment to watch..., to watch 'Him' have her.., over and over..., again and again. No, he was just carless, enjoying the depravity of fucking that which he had..., 'Created'.".

Regardless, Lyre understood the humor of the priests involvement, but why Bobbins? Why someone filled with such malice, such hatred towards women? Why allow her to be...., hurt..., why allow her to be changed? .........All at once he understood. He understood 2986 years of motive. He finally understood why Bobbins and who Bobbins was.... It had all been a game, a need less selfindulgent game between a 'Father' and a 'Son. Said father's, favorite son.....

 

[Lyre01]

It must be given freely......

With his clarity, Lyre lashes out. Eyes beaming white, he does not break windows, he does not scream, his stomach does not force bile to flow from his mouth....., instead, waves....., he sends crushing waves of passion and lust out at the world around him. Lyric catches them, head on..... Instantly her pussy explodes with moisture, sweat saturates the crack of her ass, her nipples feel like their going to tear open, her hands struggle to remain holding the pole and not to bury themselves deep in her crotch. Lyric's eyes start to roll as....... as she is abruptly jerked forward by the sudden slowing of the train.....

The train pulls into it's final destination. Workers will shortly be finding their way from one car to the next, erasing any memory of the day which has just ended. As soon as they have finished their job and head home for the night, these 2 will finally be alone. Alone to get reaquainted, alone to explore......He has been looking forward to this...... Almost 29 years of relentless yearning and only 9 days to make up for it....... She has been waiting for something her whole life....., and wonders, "Can this be it....?".

"Let's make this count", he utters deep and gutturally...., full of hostility....... I have alot to explain and little desire to do so. I would rather take you where you stand than waste any longer on unnecessary words...., however, there is much you need to know and not enough time for me to tell it......... Lyre is puzzeled by the sudden impish look she is vaguely able to discern on his face. She thinks to herself, "Is he smiling or is he bearing his teeth at me, warning me of whats to come next....?".

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

(deleted, double post, sorry)

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

Everything seemed to slow down, for a moment or two, the train, the beat of her heart, her very breathing, even the flow of her blood cascading thru her veins. All slowed to a bare motion, time standing still, the world no longer spinning, suspended, in the darkness.


The memory had slowly syphoned the strength from her, assaulting her. Had it happened just a week ago? A month ago? A year ago? or was it a lifetime ago? Or longer? So much longer ago? Had it been her soul, and not her flesh, that had felt, that had reawakened the memory?


Her eyes had closed, and she had seen herself, back then, the Lyric of the memory. She was .... different... then... at least in her appearance. But her soul, her soul was always the same.

Lyric of the past:http://s15.photobucket.com/albums/a360/AmbrosiaCaress/red2.jpg


The waves of heat, passion, lust, want, need that suddenly flows from Him, hidden in the shadows, she still not able to focus upon His face, other than the glow of His eyes, suddenly slams into her, flooding her senses, washing over her flesh, snaking beneath her clothing, winding around her, tightening, touching, groping, fondling her.... the wet glide of a tongue, tasting her, the white hot shudder of pleasure, a low gasp that escapes her otherwise silent lips.

Lyric nearly falls to her knees at the intensity. The wetness between her legs spreads, as her body, overwhelmed for a moment, reacts, trembling, her head falling back, long dark hair cascading down her long, lithe spine, golden eyes rolling back, a low, purring sound rippling past no longer silent lips. She heard nothing from Him, instread feeling everything. From His rage to His lust, from His hatred to His love, from His want to His need.


"Let's make this count"

She was unable to answer beyond the depths of her moaning. Lyric had pressed herself to the pole, wrapping herself around it. She was undulating, trembling, swaying. One would think she was performing some obscene pole dance. Maybe she was. Deep inside her, she struggles to regain control of the emotions He had awakened inside of her, emotions that began with fear, a deeply seeded terror, and ended with love flavored with her complete submission.

"Let's make this count",

She felt His thought to take her, right then and there, at that very moment. Felt His nearly unquenchable need to drink of her, to possess her, to enter her, fill her with the heat of His seed, claim her yet again as HIs, as He always did, whether she gave herself to Him or not.

But His restraint was admirable, and she turned then, as she clung to the pole, legs wrapped around the cold steel, she writhing her wet pussy, encased still in her jeans, along the length.

The look on His face, no wait, she could not see His face. The shadows revealing only what He desired to be revealed, His eyes, and His smile... Wait... Is He smiling or is He bearing His teeth??? A warning of what was to come....?

The bigger question, the more important question, was He her Protector? Her Lover? Was His snarl the warning of what.... He.... could... and would .... do????

Or was it a smile at how far she had fallen?