The sweet taste of forbidden love (Closed)

[Wolk]

The blessing of living in a wealthy neighbourhood of Dublin was that each house, even in the very area where real estate was so valuable, had a plot of land so large that one need never even meet one's neighbours or be disturbed by their sounds. So was the curse.

The night created many good places in the forested lot that held the Worthings' house. There, in the shadows, three masked men lurked.

"Alpha: clear."
"Charlie: clear. Package is in the house."

The words, barely whispered, were picked up by throat-mounted microphones and carried through super-short waves of tactical radios to those they were ment for. Say what the papers might - especially those controlled by Dublin's rats - but Michael Flaherty had a professional team, even if they did not serve anyone but their own beliefs.

It was all plain and simple to Michael, really. The Catholics broke off part of what rightfully beloned to England. People like them, made the Empire fall. And, as much as Michael would deny personal reasons, they killed his father. This was not something easy to foret and forgive.

Worthing, Commander Worthing, was in his way since that day he had first foiled Michael's crew's operation and put three of his men into jail. It could not be explained by merely doing his duty to his post, no. The man was a fanatic, and enemy fanatics deserved anything that Michael could throw at them. He had smiled when he first thought of this plan. It would be most exquisite to not only secure financing for his future operations, but to make his enemy provide the money.

"Echo, report." Michael whispered.
"Echo standing by."
"Alpha, provide overwatch. Charlie and Bravo moving in."

Silently, the two men crept up to the house. Thankfully, the Commander did not keep dogs, and his house alarm system was off, even though both he and his son were away. After all, there were still people in the house. Right?

Ten seconds with a universal key and the back door was opened, allowing Michael and his "trailer" - the man following the group leader - inside. Seeing a maid aroudn the corner, Michael raised an odd-looking pistol and fired. There was little sound, and instead of a bullet, out flew a small dart, bearing with it a tiny canister of chlorophorm-based sedative. The maid collapsed softly onto the floor, not to wake up for several hours.

Thusly, they made their way upstairs and into the bedroom of their target. Shaylee, the sweet thing of a daughter of accursed Worthing. The girl only barely had time to turn around and gasp at the sight of masked men, before she fell down unconscious just like the maid did before. Michael motioned to the other man, who picked the young girl and carried her over his shoulder.

"Echo, move in to extract." Michael said quietly.

In another minute, they were out of the hosue, and in three, all were safely loaded into a pair of luxury cars with powerful engines. Before the breaking-in was ever found, Michael, one other man and Shaylee were safely hunkered down at one of the group's numerous hideouts in the countryside, where nobody would think of looking.

The room in the basement that was used more than once to hold prisoners before was brought up to standards a little bit for Shaylee. She was, after all, a young lady, even if she was Catholic and the daughter of his foe. Still, it was quite secure and had no windows, even if the bed and furniture were quite decent. Michael laid her down onto the bed, and couldn't help but admire for several moments how beautiful she was. Then, he stood up and left, locking the sturdy metal door behind him.

 

[vierge]

Shaylee

It was cold. That was how she knew she was alone in the Dublin town house. Usually, the family of three stayed out in the country, but Father wanted them closer to him. Brother was all for it. Danny liked to be at the center of the action at all times. They were both away from the house that night. She was laying in her bed wrapped in sheets of fine satin and silk. Her head, dazzling in a fire mess of beautiful red curls, fell into slumber on a pillow of soft feather down. She had just started to fall asleep. It was crazy how that happened. She thought of a dream, a perfect dream to dream, if she were to fall asleep, one that she always thought of while laying in bed. It was a way to cure the insomnia that sometimes plagued her. If she could picture her brother and father at home, talking and laughing, sipping on Guinness ( even though her brother liked to say that Shaylee couldn't drink a whole pint if she tried ), and smoking cigars, and the parties, and the boys. There were a few she liked, but being that she was 18, her Father had a lot to say about the boys in Ireland. He didn't trust them unless they were in his regiments. She didn't want to date anyone involved the war. She didn't want to be involved in the war. It was the reason her life was turned upside down for hours at a time each day. With every report of fire and brimstone, Shaylee panicked into a blubbering mess, going crazy with the regrets of never saying her final goodbyes to her Father and brother. Then, they would show up, one after the other, and they would be perfectly fine, more worried about her distress than anything else. They didn't see how much it hurt her to think of losing them. they didn't see.

She wasn't exactly alone in the house. The keepers of the house were in their quarters, resting soundly in the apartment at the back of their home. They had all probably had a long night of drinking and partying in town and were now fast asleep. Shaylee envied the ease with which they could put their weary heads down and go straight into the world of green grassy fields under blue sunny skies. That would be the perfect dream. Unfortunately, she rarely had those.

She awoke from a terrible nightmare, a reoccurring one. She had been at the climax of fear. Her eyes slowly started to shut again, the bottle of sleeping pills sitting there from hours earlier when she had taken them. Even two wasn't helping her anymore. Then, there it was, a noise from downstairs. Swallowing, Shaylee perked from her languid state and listened intently. There was nothing to be heard, but she knew that she had heard something. She sighed, telling herself it was just another noise of the house, nothing more, nothing less, but she was going to see for herself. Maybe, it was her brother. He was, after all, late, which worried her even more. She had been up until midnight waiting on him.

With a smile on her face, she knew that had to be it. It just had to be her brother. She was not inventing noises now. She pulled a flowered satin robe from the door and wrapped it around her tiny body. As she walked from her bedroom, opening the door cautiously, like someone might be waiting just outside to scare her, she continued once seeing the coast was clear. There was still no sign of movement or sounds coming from below, which she found incredibly weird. Shaylee's brother was the type that when he got home, he needed to eat and drink. It helped relieve what was ever on his mind. So, the silence was deafening to her. It was all she could hear, think about, wondering if her mind was really tricking her. She wanted to make sure he was okay before she went to sleep. The thought that he might be downstairs hurt or dying was almost enough to make her rush down, but still, there was nothing--nothing but the wind outside the window and the warm air blowing through the vent of the floor.

She chastised herself for being a silly girl. She pushed glossy red curls from her face and turned to head back into her room. She was going to sleep, and when she finally awoke in the morning, Danny would be there. It was like Christmas. She glanced down the stairwell on her way back. It was her final test. She thought she saw a shadow, so she stopped, furrowing her brow and leaning over the banister to see farther into the dining room. Nothing. Shaylee shook her head, silly girl.

This was actually just like one of her nightmares. It began to test her nerves and all of a sudden, she couldn't wait to get back into her bed, where she thought she would be safe. The nightmare? Her brother's and Father's ghosts coming back to haunt the house after their deaths in some random terrorist bombing. It was silly, she knew, but it was one of the ones she could picture so well, and this was exactly how it started. Quickly now, she went back to her home, shutting the door tightly, and leaped into bed, pulling her covers close to her heaving chest. Fright spilled from the pools of her bright blue eyes. She shut them and hoped to God that she would calm down or fall asleep. She hated being alone. She HATED it so much.

She lay there mometarily, catching her breath and her thoughts. Closing her eyes one more time, she opened them to see nothing again. There were no shadows. There were no sounds. It was paranoia. It was her being eratic. She gulped down her fears and nuzzled the pillow, burying her head deep into the cushion of it, comforted by the way it felt. Her legs curled up in front of her, and she hugged another pillow close to her body. She couldn't get the thought from her head that something wasn't right, no matter how much she told herself that her mind was having fun getting her all worked up, that she was doing this to herself like she had so many times before, and that there was nothing to be seen here except for a crazy little girl, SHE STILL THOUGHT something wasn't right.

It came in a flash. The door swung open. Startled and scared to death, she sat up against the headboard and watched as two men entered into her room. She didn't recognize them. They were all dressed in black. It wasn't her brother. It wasn't her father. They were masked and armed with guns. Her brilliant eyes widened, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, an unknown assailant from behind covered it with a cloth, holding her there whilst she struggled, getting a good kick in his groin before quickly slipping into unconsciousness.

Awakening, it took the girl a second to realize she wasn't in her room. Once she did though, her panic level rose to smacking herself, trying to get her to awaken again from a new nightmare: one with four gray concrete walls without windows, some furniture, nothing very nice. She was in her night wear: a black lacy tanktop and matching boycut panties ( the ones that ride up between her backside ), but she also had her robe on. Her hands checked for cuts, bruises, but all she could find was one on her wrist. Something had happened, but what? Gasping for air, she fret for her life in a place like this. Her memory vanished. Where was she? What was this place? Had she been sent to a sanitorium against her will? What was going on?

The redhead stood at the side of the mattresses on the floor and glanced once more around, before her final attack of panic. Rushing to the large metal door, she screamed for help, tears dripping from her eyes due to the sobs, and her tiny fists beating against the rough metal of the door. After moments of doing this, she stopped, realizing it was futile. No one was coming for her. What had happened? The thoughts entering into her head were too horrible to describe. She didn't want to imagine the endings to any of their seedlings now firmly planted in her head. Getting up from her kneeled rocking position on the cold floor, she went back to the bed, crawling back underneath the thin cotton covers. She hugged herself tightly with her arms around her knees close to her chest.

 

[Wolk]

Michael didn't hear the screams for help from below. That, after all, was how the place was designed. A normal house from the ourside, it was possible for authorities or someone else to be on the ground floor without so much as realizing there were prisoners below, no matter how loud they got.

He did, however, check regularly on the girl. She wasn't the target, or the enemy, after all. In fact, Michael was feeling something akin to simpathy towards her misfortunes. 'Well, she has no one but her fellow infidels to blame for it.'

Once again, he had descended through the concealed door into the cellar and got to the door that kept her locked in. He knocked on it politely, as he did every time before, before entering and locking it behind him. Only this time he found her in a different position from the one he left her in before. She must have awakened.

"Good morning." Michael smiled warmly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Are you all right, Shaylee

 

[vierge]

This may help you too...since he probably won't be that proper: http://www.at.artslink.co.za/~gerry/irisha_m.htm It's an Irish Slang website

Shaylee heard the knock and sat straight as a pin against the wall. Once again, her eyes bult themselves into blue saucers, waiting for a gun to be pointed to her head and a man as ugly as the Devil himself to come walking through that door. Then, he came through. He wasn't a bad looking fellow. He was tall and dark haired, and brilliantly blue eyed. If she wasn't in this situation and they had met on the street, she might have actually stopped to smile at him. That was on the street. This was in a place she didn't know. This place was a prison, and these people weren't her friends.

As he had sat down, she noticed the knife in his belt. She thought quickly for a second and snatched it from him with skilled little hands. It had been all those days when outside with her brother. She always did snatch his food or any play things he had. He let her have them. She was his baby sister. She jumped from the bed, her robe almost falling off her scantily clad body, revealing the cleavage held inside the tanktop. She held the knife out at him. Her grip was shaky. She bakced away, as she shouted. "Blarney, don't as' me questions like that!"

Immense hostility drenched her words as well as the thick Northern Irish accent the troublesome redhead had. He didn't know who he was messing with. Her brother taught her to fight some, although she'd never done it and her hand was shaking like the head of a bobble toy on a really rough ride into the country. She questioned him again, backing up as he started to stand, swinging the knife about without knowing what she was really doing, "Who are 'ya? What is this place? EXPLAIN YOURSELF OR I SWEAR I'LL CUT 'YA!"

Her threats were made like someone who was faking a stomach ache on a school day morning. She invented the belief that she could cut him and she began to believe it, anything to try and make it so that she had the confidence to do it, the courage to do it if he started to come closer to her. There was no way she was having sex with any man, no matter how good-looking he was. She wasn't going to let herself be raped, tortured, whatever else this man had in store for her. Her eyes boiled with passion and ravenous intent.

 

[Wolk]

Michael chuckled at the surprise strike she had placed on him. He could have stopped it, probably, but he knew she had no weapon and didn't want to hurt her. So, she ended up with his weapon, hissing like an angry vixen. Michael couldn't help chuckling as she waved the knife before her. Nobody who treated a knife like a sword survived a true fight. For a knife was no sword. It was more agile, but weaker, and thus its strength laid in striking from an unpredictable direction. For this, one needed to hold it back, by one's hip, and pointing down from the fist rather than up. It made for effective slashes, most powerful stab, and more stability. Of course, little Shaylee hardly knew that.

He laughed light-heartedly and took a few steps towards her.

"Aren't you supposed to be a lady?" He grinned. "And there you are acting like some common brasser. Spare me hassle, muzzy, drop the knife."

Of course, she didn't, but neither did she have the moral fortitude to attack seriously. Michael knew she wouldn't, and just closed the distance with the last few steps. As she lunged half-heartedly, more afraid to hurt another than she thought, Michael caught her arm and twisted it behind her back, tossing her face down onto the bed. His pelvis pressed against her behind, outlined so sexily by the panties. He pressed her hand a little harder and the knife fell out.

"That's master." He scooped the weapon and returned it to its rightful place. In the meantime, he couldn't help admiring the half-naked girl's beauty. "Now, darling, next time you want to know something in your life, ye oughtta just try asking before you start milling and slashing. OK?"

He caressed her hair softly. "Don't fret, dear, you're safe for now if you behave. Once your daddy pays you ransom and gives me word to stop prosecuting the true faithful, you'll be free to go back to your infidel chaps and mots." He released her and stood back. "Anything else you wanna know, sweetie?"

 

[vierge]

At the name-calling, she gritted her teeth, but he was just egging her on. He wanted her to attack, so he could defeat her and then pin her down and have his way. That was what she thought of him now, some common man with common interests of rape and molestation. It was suitable if he was her assailant. He was coming closer, and without thinking, she lunged, incredibly feeble attempt as he had her in his grips before she could say white flag. Shaylee was like a rag doll in his hands! She wouldn't release the knife at first, but soon, the pressure made her release it. Breathless, she remained feeling him touch her and cringing. She didn't know what to think, and so, she hated him. It was no use, his strength overcompensated hers.

After he released her, she shook off his hand, not standing for being touched. By the way he was acting, talking, and how he dressed, she surmised exactly what he was, one of those Protestant Militant group leaders, especially since there was a ransom involved. The talk of her father sent her into a rage he probably couldn't concieve.

"UGH!" She expelled a breath of a gasp and stomped hard on his foot, engaging him into another physical challenge by slapping him across the face, disbelieving that he would ever call her such names as he had. He was a true mentaller if he thought that she wouldn't have something to say about him. She had really gone crazy now, attacking her attacker, and all throughout belittling him in a frenzy of vicious words, "And what about you, taking advantage of a lass like you and whoever did--you're a coward, thas what you are! And I am not a brasser or a muzzy, thank you very much. How would you feel if you were in my situation? Did you ever think about that before this little escapade began? What about my life? Did you think about that? You Protestants, always the same, fighting for something that's dead--IT'S OVER FOR YOUR KIND!"

In truth, she didn't care about the war. It had only brought misfortune on her family, but she would do anything in this instant to anger him, make him hate her, just so she could hate him that much more for pulling her out of her comfortable element at home and continue to try and bite him. She would have succeeded if he hadn't pinned her down once more, but every time he leaned down to her flushed pretty face, she raised up quickly and snapped her jaws at him.

"You're just horrible!" she screamed.

 

[Wolk]

Michael cringed at the slap and other assaults that followed. He tried his best to just stand it out, something in him rebelling against fighting this cute girl. But, for crying out loud, it was impossible! She did have strength, after all, even though she was a girl. Given time, she could've disassembled his body. And probably wouldn't have moral blokes to do so, judging by the anger.

He stepped up and grabbed her hands, pushing her down onto the bed and pinning her body down to it with his own. Having secured her limbs, he left her only her teeth to fight with, but stayed clear of those.

"How'd I feel, huh?" He half-yelled, getting turned up. "Enormously grateful that my captor is gentleman enough to keep me unhurt in any way, and return me to my family safely, that's how!" He was truly getting angry by then. He did, after all, mean to be nice to her and leave her out of the animosity between him and her family. And how did she make it turn out?! "How would you feel if I kidnapped and murdered your da' or ma' instead and murdered 'em, like you Papist kind did to my parents? Huh?!"

That had her stunned and dazzled for a while. So much so that she stopped struggling in his hands. If he was asked to explain why he did what he did next, Michael would find nothing to say. Instinctively, he leaned down and pressed his lips into hers for a brief kiss. He pulled away before she even realized what happened, then got up off her.

"Get some rest, Shaylee." He said almost devoid of emotion. "I'll bring you food and something more decent to wear soon."

With that he left, leaving the girl alone, without even sticking in any last words. In about fifteen minutes, however, Michael was back, with a tray of food and a long bright pink cotton robe. He set both onto the table and turned away from her.

"Get dressed, dear. I hope you like our food."

 

[vierge]

Pinned underneath him, she struggled and fought him, kicking and bucking underneath his pressure. She wasn’t listening to what he had to say, not until he talked about her Father and what had happened to his parents. Squinting, she tried to read him, looking for the truth in him, but just as she had calmed, his lips came to hers. Surprised, her eyes widened for the brief moment he stole from her lips. She didn’t really have time to kiss back, her thoughts weren’t on that anyway, but what he had said about her Father? Was it true? No, couldn’t be, just another one of his tricks. He was gone before she had anything to say. She looked down at herself, her chest so abundantly springing out of the tanktop. It definietly was indecent. If it wasn’t for the robe she had, which was now on the floor, she would be wearing hardly anything. In his absense, she wondered about all the truths and fallacies in what he said. It couldn’t be true. Someone would have told her, her brother at least. No, they were good people. Her father was a good man.

When he came back, Shaylee eyed him cautiously. There bout earlier had gotten her blood boiling, but the kiss, well that had been rather pleasant. She wondered why he thought it was okay to kiss her. It hadn’t been her first kiss, but it felt just as good as the first time. Still, she didn’t think he deserved the pleasure of kissing her. Whether what happened to his parents by her Father was a truth or just a believed truth, it wasn’t fair that she was put into this situation.

At his demand, Shaylee lifted herself up letting the revealing satin robe fall from her small yet voluptuous curves. Half of her ass was left for anyone to gawk at, if they so chose to do so, especially since she didn't put it past him to look if he wanted. She turned her back to Michael and pulled on the pink robe, fastening it tight around her 23 inch waist. Tucking her bright red curls behind her ears, she turned back to look at the food. Eyeing the cabbage and leak soup with a grimace, she wiped the look away when she caught his eye. If she was going to eat, it wasn’t going to be that. Maybe that would be her ticket out of here!

“I’m not hungry,” she stated with a humph, turning her head away from the food and raising her chin up. Folding her arms, she had never seen a leak soup that looked that bad, even though she didn’t like it that much at all anyway. She was used to a different prepared meal every night. She never thought she’d be too proud to eat something, but she was Catholic, after all. She shouldn’t have to eat his food anyway.

 

[Wolk]

Michael waited for a while, with his back turned to her just like he stood. He fully expected the bowl with soup to be tossed at his back, or at least her fists on the back of his neck. Still, he couldn't have brought himself to look at her while she was changing. Something was wrong about doing that.

Neither came, to his pleasant surprise, and as she finally told him she was not hungry, a small smile lit his face. She wouldn't understand why it was there, and he wouldn't explain.

"Are you decent?" He asked, and after getting her approval, turned around.

"The pink suits you. It highlights your hair." He noted nonchalantly. "I'll leave the food there in case you change your mind soon. It's no biggie if you aren't hungry now, but I hope you aren't trying to starve yourself. It'll only feel bad for you and not change a thing."

He took out a blank notebook and a pencil, putting both on the table by the food.

"When you have time and inspiration, I'd you to write yer da' a letter. Tell'em of what happened to his girl, and that he is to gather two million pounds in small, unmarked bills, as well as a written and signed oath in the name of God and Pope by him and your brother not to harm any Protestant or plot against them. In a few days, he will be told where to bring these items to give them to us safely. Then, you will be released safe and sound."

 

[vierge]

The reasons for his wicked smile tormented her for a few seconds, before he presented the next round to her. Another round for them to have a go at. She murmured that she didn’t what he thought about her hair or how pink suited her, saying with a snort, “I hate pink. It only works for little girls.”

She tossed her ringlets and folded her arms, trying not to talk to him, but he did it with his next statement. Her temper raged like never before. Usually, she had a good temperament, but he was ruining it with all of his demands or maybe it was just the fact that she had been taken hear against her will.

“It doesn’t matter right? You’ll kill me either way? I hope you don’t get yer pounds, Mister Flaherty,” Shaylee told him, glaring at him harshly from where she sat. As for the notebook and pen, she picked them up and threw them on the floor. Her gorgeous face grew stony, and her delicate features clenched. She wasn’t going to listen to what he had to say. Her Father hadn’t done anything to his family. He was full of it.

 

[Wolk]

Michael had to take a good, long breath to sooth the anger that was piling up. That girl's temper was unbelievable, and he was this close to slapping her out of that snotty attitude. Still, he thought himself better than that.

"Yeah, that's right! Gonna kill you little taig, and terribly painfully, too! And before that, I'm gonna rape you, and have all my hoods rape your tight fucking box and yer piehole! We'll shoot a video of it all and sell it on the 'net to raise money to buy little kittens and cut their little throats too!" He yelled. "So ye start undressing, brassier, and I'm gonna go get all my hoods!"

He watched the girl standing mesmerized with her mouth gaping open and breathing ragged as she searched for something to say back out of the billions of bad things her mind has no doubt generated. Michael just shook his head in disbelief and laughed.

"Just write the bloody letter, muppet. Nobody's going to hurt you and if you aren't stupid you'll be back home soon."

 

[vierge]

The thought of men ravaging her over and over sent into her peril that she couldn’t descibe. She bit her lip, looking as if she might cry. Then, she realized he was kidding.

"You..." She squinted her eyes and thought of equally hurtful things to say. Then he started laughing, LAUGHING~at her no less. She got up, pushing the table over and sending the soup flying. Taking off the robe, she threw it right in the puddle and turned her head back to stare at him with cold eyes. “JUST GET OUT! You can forget about your precious letter...and all of that bull shite, I’m not writing anything for you. You want me to do something, then you’re going to do something for me.”

She stopped marching away from him, and turning back, she pointed a finger at him, “I want you to let me talk to my Father. That’s what I want, and then i’ll write your stupid letter and get you all your godforsaken money. That’s all that matters right! You get your money to blow up buildings and send your goons out to murder and rape whoe’re they want. You’re the one who’s a bloody taig.”

At that point, Shaylee had gotten right up to his face with her own, her eyes piercing his and never waving in their intensity. She wasn’t going to look away until he did or until he made her, which he could certainly. She had certainly been difficult enough, calling him names, fighting him at every turn, throwing everything he gave her to the ground, and if she wasn’t so proper, she might have spat on it, too. Their bodies were so close now. She good almost be a whore with the way she was dressed, but they were the finest sleeping garments money could buy.

 

[Wolk]

That was all quite enough to make Michael seriously upset with this girl. He was very much ready to slap her, to throw her onto the bed and give her a hard, ol' fashioned spanking, so that she would know her place. More and more she was starting to come across as a "harpy hag" for whom his heart had less and less sympathy.

But one word changed it all. Taig. It was street slang, and ment Catholic, yet, she threw it back at him, a Protestant, and she knew it. A soft smile crossed his lips. The silly, beautiful little girl had no idea what half of the things he said ment! She just threw things back at him, like a child, who's afraid to seem too meek by not knowing the latest swearword.

Michael looked into her angry eyes and marveled at the beautiful, innocent girl, finally seeing through the veil of her fake persona she acted up for defence. Every little bit of him wanted to protect and comfort this wonderful little creature.

It must have reflected in his own blue eyes, because the girl didn't struggle too actively as Michael took her face into his hands and put a long, soft kiss onto her lips. He didn't stop himself this time, to pull away quickly. If she detested him so much, she would have to beat him away. All Michael knew was that he liked her now and was no longer angry at all of her silly feisty acts.

 

[vierge]

At first, she fought it, batting at his chest with her puny fists and pushing against him, but he kept kissing her. It felt so good. She pressed back finally, her hands finding themselves unraveling from their clenched holds and setting onto his shoulders. Her tongue mingled with his, and she whimpered as pressure was put back on her. The only way they could separate their breathless entrapment was through yanking away, and gasping for breath. The kiss had been so juicy and wet that she brought her fingertips to touch her lips and stare into his eyes. She didn't know this type of feeling, the one that came with being so incredibly crazy as well. His hands were around her, but there was still the thought of betrayal. This man kidnapped her. He was holding her for ransom. He was supposed to kill her, and he wanted some sweet action before it all ended. She pushed herself away and hang her hand, covering her face for a mere second before raising her teary eyes to look back at him.

"You can't do that. You want money from my family, all of our money that my Father worked hard for. You want me to write a letter telling him that you're going to kill him. How can I do that?" Her voice broke as she held back the urge to let all of her emotions flow. She was confused, angry, and spiteful. She felt like hitting him and at the same, she wanted to be with him in the tender way that was their embraces.

She stood away from him, holding her waist with her arms, her body barely dressed. The fabric of the lingerie cut around her curves, exposing half of her ass and plenty of her cleavage and midriff. She was a skinny little thing, yet she had a very round rump and melons for breasts. Together, her skin was soft and smelled so fresh. He was rough, he had scars that she felt when his hands were on her. She didn't know that a man like him could ever be the one that her heart would race for, and this was all coming about so quickly. Maybe she should start believing in love at first sight. Oh why did Cupid aim so randomly, without figuring in the facts of real life....

 

[Wolk]

Michael wasn't surprised when she struggled meekly at his kiss. What did surprise, and filled him with joy, was that her struggles died away and she kissed back. It drove him nearly insane - the returned attention, the proximity of her beautiful and so scantly clad body, the smell of her hair, the softnell of her skin under his fingers. Had he been a commonly lustful goon, she would have no way to escape rape. But he wasn't.

Michael was even more surprised at his own feelings that made him let her slip out of his embrace, unwilling to do anything to hurt her in any way. He just looked at her - at her lovely face, of all the beautiful, revealed places! - and smiled softly.

He shook his head at her words and sat on the bed next to her.

"No! No..." He hugged her shoulder gently. "You are still believing what you made yourself believe." He smiled, stroking her hair softly. "I never said anything about killing your father or anyone else. I want to made him swear he will not hurt my kind. Is that really so much to ask?"

"As for the money, two million will not bankrupt him." Michael's voice grew a touch more stern. "You will still live in the same house with the same maids. And with that money, I will save many Protestants misery at the hands of government goons, maybe even their lives. You want me to feel sorry for doing that?" He paused. "I don't!"

 

[vierge]

"Still, you're asking me to write a letter threatening to kill me...." She walked up to him, searching her eyes with her own. Her body played to his, moving towards him yet still just a way from his reach. "How do I know you...you won't...what if he can't pay...what if he refuses to pay...are you going to kill me?"

Her coral lips moved slowly. They came to his, brushing against them as she continued to speak, "Would you kill me or let yourself be killed by those around you who hate me?"

She pressed her lips into his. This was so wrong. All of it was. Her hands at the back of his neck, holding onto him and letting her body melt into his. She wanted to wrawp herself around him, feel him inside of her, she wanted to be with him, ALL of him, but there was that pesky thing of real life getting in the way. And this time it was a knock at the door.

"Sir, we gots us a leetle problem out here. There's a wee bit of commotion!" he yelled, ending their sweet embrace for the moment. Her blue eyes caught his.

She shook her head. "Whatever it is, come back to me, tonight...I'll write you that letter, but I'm not going to tell him that you're going to kill me. I'll write it from my heart and you'll get that money."

Her smile blossomed, finally showing the happiness that came from being so near to him. Her leg rubbed against his before she stepped aside and let him pass to attend to his problems. She didn't know what they were, but now she had one more person to worry about, the new love of her life. She was sure that was who he would become.......

It was a long time before she heard anything. Her room was dark unless she turned on the lamp at the far side of the room, but she just wanted to sleep. Maybe, he would be there when she awakened. Her eyes shot open as she heard the door slide against the cement. In her sleepy voice, she rubbed her eyes looking to see who had come into the room. "Michael?" She asked hesitantly.

"No, it ain't Michael," a grunting voice mocked her own, and the lamp flickered on. Standing there were three men, who all looked dirty and drunk. One had a rope. The other had a bottle of Guinness, and the other just looked mean.

Shaylee stood up on the bed. She had put on her old robe and at least, was covered as much as she could be. The girl knew she couldn't fight all of them at once. She just had to get out of that room before they caught her. As one of them lunged, she dodged but found herself cornered in the back of the room by the other two. One of them took her by the wrist and forced her to her feet, bringing his teeth to her neck, biting and sucking, flicking his tongue over her flesh. She whimpered and screamed for him to get off of her. The other one pushed the other away from her.

"It ain't time for that just yet," he said gruffly and pulled her over into a wooden chair. He took out a knife and handed it to one of the other men. "Hold that to 'er throat."

He looked at her with a sly grin. "Now, lassy, we're going to play a little game with 'ya. You're going to take this hear pint of Guinness. We're going to go around and take turns asking questions. You gotta take a drink each time a question is asked or we win the game, and you don't want to know what happens if we win the game, lass..."

They tied one of her arms behind her, as well as her ankles to the legs of the chair. The one from before, who had started licking and sucking her flesh like a leech had pushed her robe off from her shoulders, letting most of her breasts be revealed to the three of them. They sat there drooling for a moment.

The game began. She took each sip, answering their questions, which were of a horrible nature, like one of them, 'Have you even been bollocked in the arse?' It went on and on like that, building into more and more uncouth questions, and finally, she could feel herself being tipsy. Once they saw her eyes growing glossy and her words slurring, they had her.

She was untied and thinking that she was free was her first mistake. One of them got up undoing his belt. He wrapped a hand in her hair and jerked her head back. Screaming, she fought with her hands to break free of his hold. The others jumped up to help out their fellow attacker. Crying heavily, she was dragged to the floor, where her arms were proceeded to be pinned. Just as one of their cock's popped out of their trousers, the door opened and everyone turned to see. Shaylee only hoped it was Michael...coming to rescue her...

 

[Wolk]

That kiss was so much sweeter than all the previous ones. She started it. He wasn't forcing himself on her. She wanted it as much as he did, Michael knew it.

He only shook his head as she asked him what he would do if the Commander refused to pay her ransom. Michael didn't say anything. What could he say? That he would remake the whole organization from within just to suit the needs of love?

He only thanked heavens as he was called out back out, saving him the need to answer. Her eyes were absolutely charming when she told him she would write the letter from heart.

"That is all I ask for..." he paused for a second "...darling."

Then, he left. It was a message from outside his cell, and he would have to be away for the rest of the day, much to his regret. Michael did, however, do his best to come back as soon as was possible.

He entered the house and found nobody. His heart raced and thoughts of possibilities filled his mind. If they have been discovered and raided, there was very likely an ambush waiting. He drew his pistol and screwed on a silencer. Whatever it was, he had to go and see.

The topside's search revealed no ambush, no bodies, nor his three men. Only a bunch of food and a ton of empty bottles. Michael gritted his teeth. He always had a strict no-booze rule. A tough thing to enforce among many of his men, especially new rectuits, like the trio he had with him now.

He made his way into the cellar and sure enough, the door was unlocked and ajar, with the damned bloody trio piss-drunk and inside, forcing themsevles onto Shaylee.

"Get off her!" The angry, authoritarian yell could've awakened the dead, had they been around. Hastily, the drunk men stood up.

"Fall in!" It would've been a funny sight to watch three men drunk out of their wits trying to form a straight line, but Michael was less than amused with the situation.

"Whose fucking idea was this, you muppets?" Initially they stayed silent, but a firm yell singled out one man.

"Mighty! Why am I not surprised, Private O'Brien?" The man mumbled something akin to an appology.

"Alcohol while on assigmnet, leaving your posts, attempted rape, actions aimed at threatening the mission, disobeying orders. Treason." Michael spoke calmly, with only slight anger in his voice. The last word punctuated it all.

Before anyone, including Shaylee, could react, the hand holding silenced pistol rose up and jerked, as the bullet left it, sinking into the man's flesh. He fell, and Michael fired four more times into the body with his lips tightly clenched and his eyes cold.

"Take it out, dispose of the body, wash your pieholes with cold water." He tossed to the other two. "I didn't cancel the previous orders, and I expect you two to obey to the letter now. Go."

It was hard to see what exactly had caused such actions on Michael's part. He could fully justify what he did in the context of his paramilitary group. Three undisciplined soldiers are only deadweight, so, naturally, it was better to have one dead and two disciplines ones. But would he have been as vicious in his mind about it if someone other than Shaylee was involved? Doubtful.

Finally, as the two men left, carrying the third, Michael turned to Shaylee, realizing she was probably more shocked at his punishment than at everything that happened before.

"I'm sorry..." Was all he could bring.

 

[vierge]

She rose fixing her robe and stared at him in disbelief, watch as the men carried everything out. He had killed someone over her. Biting her lip, she was more scared of him than she had been before. He was definitely crazy. Walking over to the bed, she brought out a folded letter and handed it to him.

"I wrote your letter," she told him softly, licking over her lips and bringing her eyes to him for a brief moment before looking away. What was there to say? He seemed so upset. She didn't know what to do. She felt partly responsible for this whole mess. Searching for words, she turned to him and shook her head, "Maybe this is all wrong, Michael. I really wanted this..."

She didn't clarify what this was, but it was in her eyes when she brought them to look deeply into his once more.

 

[Wolk]

Michael read all the blame - or at least that's what he thought it was - in her beautiful eyes.

He hugged her, ignoring the letter. Holding her body tight to his, he just whispered he was sorry repeatedly. He was. Sorry she had to live through those men's assault, sorry he let it happen, sorry he thought up of kidnapping her in the first place.

Only then did her words finally get to him. 'Wanted this? Wanted what?!' He pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes, puzzled, blinking a few times in disbelief.

"What did you want?"

 

[vierge]

"Um, nothing...I didn't mean anything..." She grew quiet and sat down on the bed. Her knees went together as she sat there, forgetting about the robe, which was now falling off of her incredibly gorgeous body, tender and moist. Her tits were perking through the lace due to the chill in the room. She was out of her mind. Yes, she had grown wet the moment he started holding her and apologizing. He didn't need to though. It wasn't anyone's fault, but her own. She should have just made him stay. She could have done that.

Her hand rubbed her arms, and she gave him a mean look, once again believing that this couldn't happen between the two of them. "You should just go and lock that door behind you. We can't be anything but enemies. You are what you are and I am what I am...and your friends, they called me a worthless Catholic, and that's all I am to your kind...you may not think so, but we'll never be accepted...and I'm certainly not going to be with you just for one night."

What would her Father say about Michael when this was all over? But she wanted him. Her face softened. God, she wanted him so badly. She wanted to feel him covet her and be inside of her. She wanted to feel his love. He didn't have to say it, just be so close to her that she was one with him.

 

[Wolk]

Michael, once again, couldn't make himself keep her from sliding out of his arms. But he couldn't let her go either. He just sat on the bed next to her and hugged her close again after she said all those words and gave him a look that could burn, he felt.

"I will go if you want me to..." He said softly. "But you're wrong. I don't think you're just a Catholic, and I don't care what others think. If I have to, I'll steal you again and take you across the seas." He whispered. "I love you." Michael surprised himself with that last admission. But he wasn't sorry he said it, no matter what reaction it brought from her.

He turned her head softly, looked into her eyes and smiled warmly, seeing no hostility there anymore. Slowly, he put his lips to hers and gave her a long, soft kiss, while his hands caressed her shoulders and back.

 

[vierge]

She gave in to it. She didn't care, she moved her head with his, deepened the kiss by placing her hand on the back of his head and sucking on his tongue as it entered her mouth. She massaged it with her own, grew more aggressive as she lay back on the bed and felt him over her, kissing her, running his hands up and down her sides. It made her shiver. It turned her on. She moaned into his mouth and pulled back to catch her breath, staring up at him from the bed with a dazed look on her pretty face.

"I didn't know there was love at first sight until I met you, and you've changed everything for me, Michael...really..." her voice was hoarse as she spoke, so weak yet full of passion. Her hands reached for his collar and pulled him down to her, locking lips with him again and raising a leg to rub on his, wrapping it over his waist and lifting her pelvis to his. She felt him on her. Her heart raced. It felt like it was skipping beats, it was beating so fast. Her kisses parted from his lips and trailed along his jaw to his ear, sucking and biting....

 

[Wolk]

Michael didn't know he could be "swept off his feet". But he was. Her loving attention was filling his mind all kinds of impossible pleasure.

"Does that mean you love me?" He smiled, breathing heavier.

He passionately went to kiss her neck, her shoulders, her chest where it was exposed by the sexy lace. The smell and feelings of her body drove him out of his mind. He didn't care about anything anymore. All Michael knew was that he wanted this girl. He wanted her to want him back, and not just for one night. Forever.

 

[vierge]

"Yes, Michael, it does..." she breathed hotly on his lips before pecking them once, twice, three times with sweet adorable kisses. Finally, she deepened the fourth by slipping her tongue through his lips and bringing him down close to her hot body. Her lips once again blazed a trail to his ear, where she proceeded to whisper, "I want you, Michael--more than I've ever wanted anyone else. I want to feel you. I need you..."

She kissed over his ear, nibbled and scratched his back while she played with his flesh in her mouth. She toyed with him, wanting to drive him to the edge, just so he could be with her. She lifted herself and at the same pulled on him hard, so that her back was against the wall and her legs were wrapped around his waist. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, while she kissed his lips voraciously. Her moans grew loud as she felt him press into her.

"God! Michael!" She shouted in a high-pitched tone, pulling off his shirt and revealing his upper half to her. She kissed down his neck, running her hands up and down his torso...

 

[Wolk]

Michael moaned, growing more and more aroused. Her body, her mind, every little part of her were making it abundantly clear how much she wanted him, and he wanted the same. The feelings were so intoxicating, Michael found himself losing his mind.

He responded passionately, with his lips, his hands, all of him. His hands roamed her creamy thighs, then came up to cup her abundant breasts, caressing them passionately, molding them in his hands. His lips worshiped her neck, her cheeks, her ear and the wonderful little zone of skin behind it. It never failed to bring out a moan.

"Oh God! Shaylee, I want you!" His voice could not have been more passionate. "I wanna to make love to you here and now!"

He pushed her down onto her back on the bed, still kissing and caressing. His hands slid down, finding the little panties made of gentle fabric. He caressed her for a while through it, but soon, was impatiently tugging at the waistband, struggling to slide the annoying cloth down her legs.