The Healing of the Wind

[Honey_B]

A thread for The_Quiet_One68 and Honey_B....

Laura brushed back a wisp of red hair. The wind was horrible today, cold and damp. She was afraid for the little bunch of daisies that she gripped in her hand. Colleen's favorite flower and this was her birthday. She placed the dainty bouquet in the holder on the cold marble and sighed. It was time to go, but somehow she couldn't. Not yet.

In a voice, choked with tears, she sang...

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday, dear Colleen
Happy Birthday to you

She hugged her coat around her against the chill. It was getting late. Saturday night. Money night. She had less than an hour to get out on the streets. God, she was tired. Nineteen years old and she felt ancient.

Laura had to pull the short, short skirt down several times as she ran. Annoying, but she didn't care. She simply could not afford to be late. Lenny would be angry and that just wouldn't do. Not unless she wanted another beating. Three inch heels are difficult to walk in. Impossible when you are trying to run. Laura managed it. Pure fear made her skillful.

She made it to her section of the Boulevard in the nick of time. Her little piece of the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. She wanted to hug the leather coat around her. It was so very cold. Instead, she took it off to reveal a silver tank top that barely contained the fullness of her chest. She tossed the coat over her arm and struck a pose and tried not to cry.

 

[quiet_one_68]

The warm wind blew Him towards the yearning....

He came to light on a low rooftop, not far from her. He saw her , stading there , shivering in the breeze, but not only from the temperature, but from the cold , lonliness within.
He felt her pain and sorrow, over her loss of child. She was why He was sent here. She was the one He must save tonight.

He thought back to His own beginning, so long ago. He had felt unwanted , on that tearful night, a top the bridge. His family was distant memories, and the woman that He thought He loved had left Him for another. He was so sad.
He stood on the nridge , looking into the icy water, wondering if He really could perish like this. He had been a lifeguard for twenty years, and had spent His whole life saving others, and now, on the brink of self destruction, He could not find it within Him to back away from the rail.As He stepped off , He said a last prayer , that someone would take up where He had left off. That someone would take care of those that He had loved and for those that He would not be there to help now.
He landed in the river hard, it felt like concrete from three hundred fet, and He was dead almost instantly.His soul drifted out of His body , onto the nights howling wind.

He came back to Himself, and looked through His own eyes again, and she was still there.She was waiting for someone to come by , that would take her someplace , like before , and use her body. That is how she sustained herself, by letting others rent her for a few moments. He did not feel anger , only pitty for her, that she did not know herself anymore. He watched and waited , for He could not come to her until she needed Him , or what He could give her, above all else.

 

[Honey_B]

An approach, a proposition, an arrangement...

And Laura was on her knees in an alley. She looked up at her customer, ready to service. A deep breath and her hands were at his zipper.

She tried to scream as a cruel hand twisted in her long red hair and yanked her upright by it. Pain robbed her of her voice. Her arms were twisted behind her back, strong fingers bruising her skin. Laura was spun around and slammed into the grimy building, the rough brick tearing at her cheek. She felt cold metal on her wrists, pain as they bit into her skin. Hand cuffs.

She wanted to feel numb, but she couldn't. Fear clawed at the edges of her consciousness and something darker. A feeling like this was something she deserved.

A bright flash of silver appeared before her eyes. A knife!

"I'm going to cut you girl."

Laura knew she was going to die.

 

[quiet_one_68]

He followed her ...

He watches as she meets a man, and they talk , below the lamp light. After a few minutes of haggling, she takes his arm and begins to walk down the closest , dark alley.

He follows from above, moving across the roof, keeping her in sight. He knows that this is where He has been called to, but He is unsure why, for she seems not to need Him at this time.


Earlier , at the grave of her dead child, He felt her desire for someone to come and take away her pain and sorrow. But now, she appeared to be doing fine, now that her mind was preoccupied.

He watches as they stop in a secluded , unused doorway, and she goes to her knees, in front of the man. Suddenly , the man pulls her roughly to her feet, turns her around and pushes her against the wall, with her arms pinned behind her.The man leans into her, as his other hand comes up to her face.

He feels fear, overwhelming fear radiating from the girl, but He must wait, for He is not allowed to intervene. He waits and watches.

 

[Swashbuckler]

The Saint

What a slut! I thought as I followed the greedy cunt down the alley. She knelt down before me and took a deep breath, rounding her overly stained lips in preparation. I grinned knowing that she was not quite prepared for the purpose I had in mind, fingering the steely cuffs with one hand and the butterfly with the other in the depths of my peacoat pockets. I waited that half second as she closed her eyes for an instant as the zipper went down, one more thing she helped me do, I thoguht as seized a fistful of slut red hair, tieing it up in the holes of the knife.

I jerked her to her feet, the same way she jerked guys around every night of her miserable life, without a care. I spun her around and slammed her face to the wall, careful to bruise and cut her rouged cheeks on the thin jagged edges of the bricks. Now, that would cast her a few bucks, I thought. Slamming the cuffs on far too tight, but just right for such a little bitch, I saw a trickle of crimson outline the steel where it pinched her right wrist across her back. The stupid slut wouldn't even scream for help, she at lest knew that god didn't want her anymmore. I was denied this, angered I slapped the back of her head, knocking her face into the wall once more as I flipped the butterfly into its mating dance.

She caught the glint of steel in moonlight out of the corner of her blackening eye and I hissed as cold as an artic snake, "I'm goin' to cut you little girl!" Into her ear. My grip on her wrissts told me that her heart was beginning to race. I still waited for the scream that she would not give to me. She just panted, like a firghtened dog.

I let the blade linger and glint in the moonlight, just inside her line of tear stained vision, for a long moment. Probably longer than she would allow for her purpose to her victims I thought to myself. Just letting the gravity of her desperation set in upon her mind. But she was too far gone, even to recognise that. All she would do was softly whimper, like a spoiled child not getting a treat she did not deserve.

Containing my anger and focusing upon my duty, I took a deep breath of cold, damp air and jerked her jacket from her shoulders; further ensnaring her arms. Baring her silver tank top, "Why cover those up, slut?" I asked as I dropped her on her well buggered ass, snapping off one of her heels, the other falling from her foot. I swung the knife in an arc, ripping through tightly stretched material with the razor edge and slcing flesh with the tip. Her devil's dumplings exploded from their severed cage seeking the freedom of wantoness into the chilled air. Her vile nipples puckering and rising immeidiately when they connected with the chill of the night. Even now in the valley of the shadow of death, they sought to tempt men to sin. Bathed by the thin trickle of blood from atop her breast bone. She gasped, but that was all as tears streamed down her cheeks. Smearing her evil warpaint.

Stepping bewteen her thighs in their natural state, spread on the stones of the gutter; baring the gates of the damned. Her far too immodest blet, for it hardly qualified for the term skirt, riding far up her hips. "Why bother with this at all? Wouldn't want to impede your cash register, now would we?" I asked almost laughing, but retaining my composure as was fitting to my calling. "Let me help you, then slut." I suggested through grinding rotted teeth as the butterfly sliced up towards her button of sin, tearing through the material as easily as if it were flesh.

I stopped just shy of a female circumscision, that was for only the pure. I let the dagger point flick across her lips, reddening them with more than desire from its cold edge for a second. I looked down, noticing that she had not bothered with panties. "Oh, easier access, yes?" I inquired coldly as the tip of the butterfly dipped ever so gently into the cerebus hole of this bitch. The demons inside her cunt squirmed frantically, but she did not scream out. Knowing that this was god's will upon all Jezzebelles.

Her evil had arroused the devil root of my being into full consciousness. So I leapt upon her, battering around her gates futilely as I knocked her to the ground. "Denying ME!" I shouted inches from her bleeding lip. The cunt just softly whimpered like a dog beaten for peaing on the rug, turning her face from me and clenching her eyes. Her legs flailed about my torso, like the serpents of medusa drawing me in. I grabbed one and cut and grabbed the other. The cold blood of the succubus running across my fingers that clasped the butterfly. I splayed her thighs apart hard forcing her to become fully split before me. I took careful aim, and inserted my demon into her hell fires. Imiediately, purging myself of my sin. A baptism upon my weakest flesh. I was forgiven. I cried to heaven with conversion, looking upon her face, streaked with tears for her own unforgivable acts.

I withdrew, holding her down with one hand hard on her pubis, I cut a souvenier of my salvation from her despoiled edens. Pocketing the gathered crimson vines, I took another trimming from ehr devil marked mane. A long lock, cut from her very scalp, preventing any devils that remained from escaping by bringing blood to her forehead. Without a word, I raised the butterfly high above her chest, she creid out as the blade fell. I smiled that I had brought understanding to her as I slammed into her chest, just right of the breast bone. I felt the butterfly jerk in my hand as it struck. Her cry cut short by the gurgling gasp taht escaped her sin stained lips. HEr eyes were wide as she convolsed upon the alley pavement. Her last false orgasm was fading. Gathering her up and placing her used body in a dumpster amist festering garbage, as she was, I put two silver quarters over her eyes, "To pay Charon on your way to hell, little one," I said solemly as I ceremoniously replaced the butterfly and looked one last time upon her. Blood covering her chest, her spread thighs glistening with the syrup of sin. Steaming the dumpster with the heat of hell, as I turned away into the night, replacing my zipper.

 

[Honey_B]

Laura's lips moved as if in prayer. She was beyond pain and fear, trapped in a place to horrible to be described. Yet they weren't words of prayer that she was whispering into the dark night. From somewhere deep within some hidden reserve of strength, Laura softly cried out for help. In some desperate delusion, she held her hands over the bleeding wound to her chest, trying to stop the flow. Crimson drops whelled up over her fingers, staining them red.

 

[quiet_one_68]

He saw her lying there.....

He seemed to float towards the trash bin. His silent footwork beneath His cloak, made Him seem to be walking on air. He looked down at her and saw her lying there among the rubbish.
He could see her pain, on the surface and inside, where the deeper wound had lain for many years.
When He looked at her face , racked in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, something seemed to recognize her, a memory of a face , a long , long time ago.
He came closer to her, and her eyes met His. He stared down , into her soul, and felt her need . He felt the passion that she had felt for her child, and the hole that was left behind , when the childs life was extinguished. She needed hope, hope for a new beginning or freedom from this acursed life.
He stretched out His hand to her, all cloaked in dark swirls of colored cloth, to help her in a way she did not expect.

 

[Honey_B]

Laura drifted into and out of consciousness. The pain of the attack brought back memories, vivid and terribly real. Usually, she was kept such thoughts at bay, locked away in the darkest recesses of her soul. She was too weak now and she lost herself in the horror of the past...

Three months had passed since her mother died, yet Laura still cried every night. Not because she missed her mother, which she did, but because she knew that the door to her bedroom would open and he would come. Her stepfather. He had first turned on her a few weeks earlier. Taking her young body, he had used her viscously, claiming that he now owned her. He had come to her every night since. But tonight would be different. She had a knife.

And, this was her punishment. Of that Laura had no doubt. The guilt wracked her body with dry sobs and she moaned in agony. Surely it would not be long now.

And then Laura felt it. A presence. She struggled to open her eyes. When she did, she looked into the most beautiful pair of eyes she had ever scene. A man, like a forgotten memory, stood over her, reaching out his hand to her. Instinctively Laura knew he was there to help her. Reaching into her last reserves of strength, she raised her hand to take his. Just has their fingers touched, she faltered.

 

[Swashbuckler]

Bump

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