A
AmberStar
Guest
Goth Type written by BBaikido
Verdana written by Amberstar
Celestin Appearance
A clinging mist rose from the Seine River in the cool air of the late Parisian night. It was that type of mist that hovered just inches above the cobbled streets of the French city, and swirled around in eddies and currents of air, giving the impression that it was alive and moved with a will of its own. The swirling dance of the mist, ghostly and peaceful in its' migration through the neighborhoods on both sides of the ancient river, was abruptly shattered by the sound of marching men. A column of German soldiers, part of the occupying enemy force, goose stepped their way down the boulevard, the formation destroying the tranquil peace of the late night, and shredding the fragile blanket of river mist.
The soldiers moved down the street, the rhythmic staccato of their boots hitting the cobblestones in unison slowly faded. A lone shadow, a shape discernable only because it was slightly darker than the surrounding lightless air, moved out of an alley that intersected with the boulevard along the river. Man shaped, the shadow blended with other shadows cast by the buildings along the street. Every now and then it would stop, seeming to listen to the night, listening for anymore stomp, stomp, stomp that announced the approach of another patrol column.
It was a death sentence, usually summery execution, to be caught out in the streets violating the curfew imposed by the enemy since they had rolled triumphant down the Champs De Elysee by the thousands in their tanks, armored cars, and troop carriers. Ruthless in their tactics to control the population, the Nazis had immediately instituted a curfew. In the first weeks many defiant French civilians had defied the proclamation, refusing to let the barbarians tell the City of Lights citizens when they could move around, how, and where. Many patriotic men and women died in those first weeks, simply placed up against the wall of the nearest building and shot. In most cases the bodies were simply left to be found by the French themselves, the Nazis wanted to teach the conquered people of Paris a lesson not just in fear, but in terror. Only the bravest of the population moved around this late at night now, and they were usually members of La Résistance, or the French Underground movement.
The shadow that moved gracefully along the dark boulevard was one of those men. Unlike the column of troops that had ripped the peace of the night apart, his movements were almost elegant, gracefully, and fluid. Pausing at the opening of another alley, the shadow man darted down the narrow way between two buildings, looking behind himself occasionally to make sure he was not followed.
Turning a corner in the narrow side street the shadow stopped in front of a particular door, paused again, then knocked very softly. A voice on the other side of the door, barely above a whisper answered the knock, "Who is there?"
"I am a friend of Le Cardinal, a man who loves his wine."
"Does Le Cardinal enjoy fruit with his drink?" asked the voice on the other side, giving the next step in the sign, counter-sign code to identify friend from possible enemy.
"Non, he enjoys bread and music," answered the shadow, giving the correct answer.
The door opened only enough to allow the man outside entrance to the building before shutting again. Once inside, oil lamps that had been dimmed flared to life once again revealing a large room with a dozen or so individuals, some were sleeping, one or two were busy cleaning a small collection of firearms. The shadow man was actually a youth of 15 years named Adrien. "I have a message for Ambroise and Celestin," the youth said quickly. The man who opened the door took the small piece of paper and gestured for him to wait in the large room before vanishing deeper into the inside of the underground safe house, and knocking at another door.
Ambroise slowly pulled the well oiled bolt of the Schmieser Maschinenpistole 40, a German 9mm submachine gun, back and let it slide back into place chambering a round before granting permission for the knocker to enter. He was in bed, nude, a blanket covering the lower portion of his body. He was in his late 30's, broad through the shoulders, thick arms, and waist. With his shaved head and close trimmed jet black goatee, and hairy chest he looked every bit like some kind of enforcer that would be used by criminal syndicates to impose their will on unfortunates.
"Entrez*!" he whispered just loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door. Ambroise relaxed his trigger finger on the submachine only when he recognized the man carrying the small note.
"What is it, Edmond?" asked Ambroise, lowering the weapon.
"A message from Le Cardinal. Important I think because they send a messenger out at this time of night, oui?"
Ambroise accepted the slip of paper from Edmond, the man in charge of the safe house, slowly unfolded it, and read the single word printed therein, Soupe à l'oignon, onion soup. To anyone, especially the Gestapo, the Nazis secret police, or to anyone in the intelligence branch of the German army, this one reference could literally mean anything, should they intercept it, and the messenger carrying it. But it's true meaning was known to only three people, the one who sent the message, Ambroise, the man reading it, and the woman laying asleep next to him in bed, his lover and co-underground resistance fighter, Celestin.
"Am I right?" asked Edmond again, his voice a whisper. "Important?"
"Oui, Edmond. Go, tell the messenger we will be ready in ten to fifteen minutes." Edmond bowed his head, and quietly shut the door behind him. When he was gone, Ambroise gently touched the woman laying next to him.
"Celestin, mon amour, come, wake yourself. We have work." ....
‘Courir!’ The heavy voice pierced the pelting sound of the perpetual down pour of rain upon the cobblestone streets of the La Cite, the first district where Celestin was first brought into the folds of the French resistance some years ago. She worked at a small cafe known as the Au Bougnat, it wasn’t much of a job, but it was a job that put a small amount of food on the table. Sometimes she wondered if it was worth the groping and stares she got on a daily basis, but that was about to all change when the first column of Nazi stormtroopers marched down the streets enforcing their iron fist polices and laws upon the defeated hearts of the French people.
Her best friend Renee Dubuque was the first casualty of that awful horrific night as she was raped and murdered by the bloody hands of the Nazi pragmatist Marshal Lichtenberg. A man whom was infamous in his torturous ways that he treated his captives, or even people of his own if they cross him, or fail to do his bidding. He was the devil in disguise most say, but that day will come when he will be tested to see if he is a man of biblical proportions.
It was that night, that cold rainy night of October fifth that the life of Celestin forever changed to a hatred of mankind that at times even scared her. She wanted blood for what these bastard’s did to her friends, family and even her. She was desperate to pay these men back that she even joined the ladies of the night in trying to get her hands upon the devil, but was never given the opportunity before she ran into the man she now calls her lover. He was a strong man, a man of reason and had a concupiscent hatred for the Nazi as she did.
They met several nights after the death of Renee, she was entertaining a few spineless stormtroopers, trying to get the location where the Marshal was staying. It was an exasperating evening of swatting away groping hands, trying to keep a playful smile when all she wanted to do was cut their throats and let them drown on their own blood. She wasn’t going to sleep with any German, she wanted to get to an officer that would know the Marshal’s whereabouts.
Two of the men had enough of her resisting them and took maters into their own hands. Grabbing and pulling her into their clutching arms. The multiple hands began tearing at her clothes until the bark of the big man rose over the noise of the room and vulgar protest that was escaping over Celestin lips. Their attention going to the big man whom was walking toward them with several others following close behind. Casually tossing Celestin to the side they stand up and met his bark with one of their own.
A hard, cold voice brought the engagement to an end. The man whom Celestin wanted to kill was now standing just a small skip across the floor. Her eyes tore into him with a wave of vengeance that shook her body. The knife was small but enough to cut the soft flesh of the Marshal’s neck, but the hands of her now lover was stronger than what she could break as he prevented her stupidity from taking her life.
“Not here, not now.” His voice cutting through the blinding anger. “We can not win this moment here and now.” He continued to fight her attempts to get free. “There are more outside just wanting for trouble to erupt in here. Do you really want all these people here to pay for your moment of blindness?” Celestin eased her form and took a step back away from the man.
The German commanders words brought a quick response from the men as they grabbed their gear and walked out past the Commander. His glare pierced the hides of the men they came to rest upon before he turned and walked out of the small cafe. His voice rang out just moments before the small potato mashers were tossed into the cafe.
“Courir!” her lovers voice rang out while pushing her out side door of the cafe before the blast ripped the small building to pieces. Celestin not really knowing why she moved back to the building to see if anyone survived for the blast was tremendous, however to her amazed glare there was the man whom saved her life and was now her lover.
A powerful hand was now shaking her form, bringing her out of the dream she has had every night for the past two years and now once again there was a plan to find and make this Marshal pay for his atrocities against the French People. “Oui, je suis éveillé!” Celestin respond rolling to her back and looking over to her lover. “Nous avons quelques instants.” Celestin held out her arms for him to come to her.
Ambrioise embraced Celestin, pressing her smaller body to his. Her flesh was firm under his hands as his palms roved over her body. His lips first found the pulse points in her neck, kissing her there, then he let his teeth gently graze her skin. He could feel the nipples of her breasts, each hard like small stones, pressing into his chest. His body reacted to her in the natural way, and he pressed his turgid erection against her belly, a small growl escaping his lips.
"Mon petit chou, I wish we had more time," his words trailed off in a deep passionate kiss that left him slightly dizzy when their lips parted. "We have been summoned," was all he could manage to husk. "Le Cardinal...," he held up the small slip of paper with the code word that meant "Come immediately". With a heavy sigh he tried to disentangle himself, but his lover was having none of it, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hips insistent in their grinding. "There is a messenger, waiting to guide us to where Le Cardinal is waiting...," again his words were silenced as Celestin kissed him deeply
There was no one who knew Ambroise that would call him a weak man, an undisciplined man, but the woman whose arms and legs were currently wrapped around him was a woman of strong passions, driving needs, and profound will. When she woke like this, there was little Ambroise could do, it was like a storm that suddenly built out to sea, and then crashed down on the earth.
The resistance fighter knew that she had probably had her dream again, the one of her friend being murdered by the Nazis. This was her way of exorcising the nightmare from her head.
He groaned audibly as felt her hand firmly grasp his pulsing cock and guide it to her own sex, already wet and Vulcan hot. Ambroise heard and felt Celestin's hiss of pleasure in his ear before her own teeth found his sensitive places on his necks and ears. His hands found the round globes of her buttocks, each fitting perfectly in his bigger hands, as his lover began to urgently ride him. There was no pretense in her movements, she was demanding his orgasm, her pussy milking and squeezing his shaft, grinding herself down as hard as she possibly could on him. There was the exquisite feeling of her hands planted firmly on his chest as she braced herself, and then the erotic pain of her nails digging into his skin. She was growling like a cat in heat, and her movements became even more violent as he parted her buttocks and began to massage the entrance to her back passage with the tip of one of this thick fingers.
His orgasm was like a thunder bolt, hot electricity from his toes to his the pate of his head. "Mon Dieu!" he cried out as he exploded deep inside of her, her cry of ecstasy mixing with his. For what seemed like eternal minutes, her sex gripped him like a vice, all the way down to his base, and milked him almost like a grasping hand, pulling, demanding that he give her every last bit that he had within him. And then with a sigh, she wilted down onto his body, and he wrapped his muscular arms around her, both panting from their climaxes.
"Damn Le Cardinal, and damn the Nazis mangeurs de merde," Ambroise sighed. "That we could just be rid of both and live someplace where we could be together."
Verdana written by Amberstar
Celestin Appearance
A clinging mist rose from the Seine River in the cool air of the late Parisian night. It was that type of mist that hovered just inches above the cobbled streets of the French city, and swirled around in eddies and currents of air, giving the impression that it was alive and moved with a will of its own. The swirling dance of the mist, ghostly and peaceful in its' migration through the neighborhoods on both sides of the ancient river, was abruptly shattered by the sound of marching men. A column of German soldiers, part of the occupying enemy force, goose stepped their way down the boulevard, the formation destroying the tranquil peace of the late night, and shredding the fragile blanket of river mist.
The soldiers moved down the street, the rhythmic staccato of their boots hitting the cobblestones in unison slowly faded. A lone shadow, a shape discernable only because it was slightly darker than the surrounding lightless air, moved out of an alley that intersected with the boulevard along the river. Man shaped, the shadow blended with other shadows cast by the buildings along the street. Every now and then it would stop, seeming to listen to the night, listening for anymore stomp, stomp, stomp that announced the approach of another patrol column.
It was a death sentence, usually summery execution, to be caught out in the streets violating the curfew imposed by the enemy since they had rolled triumphant down the Champs De Elysee by the thousands in their tanks, armored cars, and troop carriers. Ruthless in their tactics to control the population, the Nazis had immediately instituted a curfew. In the first weeks many defiant French civilians had defied the proclamation, refusing to let the barbarians tell the City of Lights citizens when they could move around, how, and where. Many patriotic men and women died in those first weeks, simply placed up against the wall of the nearest building and shot. In most cases the bodies were simply left to be found by the French themselves, the Nazis wanted to teach the conquered people of Paris a lesson not just in fear, but in terror. Only the bravest of the population moved around this late at night now, and they were usually members of La Résistance, or the French Underground movement.
The shadow that moved gracefully along the dark boulevard was one of those men. Unlike the column of troops that had ripped the peace of the night apart, his movements were almost elegant, gracefully, and fluid. Pausing at the opening of another alley, the shadow man darted down the narrow way between two buildings, looking behind himself occasionally to make sure he was not followed.
Turning a corner in the narrow side street the shadow stopped in front of a particular door, paused again, then knocked very softly. A voice on the other side of the door, barely above a whisper answered the knock, "Who is there?"
"I am a friend of Le Cardinal, a man who loves his wine."
"Does Le Cardinal enjoy fruit with his drink?" asked the voice on the other side, giving the next step in the sign, counter-sign code to identify friend from possible enemy.
"Non, he enjoys bread and music," answered the shadow, giving the correct answer.
The door opened only enough to allow the man outside entrance to the building before shutting again. Once inside, oil lamps that had been dimmed flared to life once again revealing a large room with a dozen or so individuals, some were sleeping, one or two were busy cleaning a small collection of firearms. The shadow man was actually a youth of 15 years named Adrien. "I have a message for Ambroise and Celestin," the youth said quickly. The man who opened the door took the small piece of paper and gestured for him to wait in the large room before vanishing deeper into the inside of the underground safe house, and knocking at another door.
Ambroise slowly pulled the well oiled bolt of the Schmieser Maschinenpistole 40, a German 9mm submachine gun, back and let it slide back into place chambering a round before granting permission for the knocker to enter. He was in bed, nude, a blanket covering the lower portion of his body. He was in his late 30's, broad through the shoulders, thick arms, and waist. With his shaved head and close trimmed jet black goatee, and hairy chest he looked every bit like some kind of enforcer that would be used by criminal syndicates to impose their will on unfortunates.
"Entrez*!" he whispered just loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door. Ambroise relaxed his trigger finger on the submachine only when he recognized the man carrying the small note.
"What is it, Edmond?" asked Ambroise, lowering the weapon.
"A message from Le Cardinal. Important I think because they send a messenger out at this time of night, oui?"
Ambroise accepted the slip of paper from Edmond, the man in charge of the safe house, slowly unfolded it, and read the single word printed therein, Soupe à l'oignon, onion soup. To anyone, especially the Gestapo, the Nazis secret police, or to anyone in the intelligence branch of the German army, this one reference could literally mean anything, should they intercept it, and the messenger carrying it. But it's true meaning was known to only three people, the one who sent the message, Ambroise, the man reading it, and the woman laying asleep next to him in bed, his lover and co-underground resistance fighter, Celestin.
"Am I right?" asked Edmond again, his voice a whisper. "Important?"
"Oui, Edmond. Go, tell the messenger we will be ready in ten to fifteen minutes." Edmond bowed his head, and quietly shut the door behind him. When he was gone, Ambroise gently touched the woman laying next to him.
"Celestin, mon amour, come, wake yourself. We have work." ....
‘Courir!’ The heavy voice pierced the pelting sound of the perpetual down pour of rain upon the cobblestone streets of the La Cite, the first district where Celestin was first brought into the folds of the French resistance some years ago. She worked at a small cafe known as the Au Bougnat, it wasn’t much of a job, but it was a job that put a small amount of food on the table. Sometimes she wondered if it was worth the groping and stares she got on a daily basis, but that was about to all change when the first column of Nazi stormtroopers marched down the streets enforcing their iron fist polices and laws upon the defeated hearts of the French people.
Her best friend Renee Dubuque was the first casualty of that awful horrific night as she was raped and murdered by the bloody hands of the Nazi pragmatist Marshal Lichtenberg. A man whom was infamous in his torturous ways that he treated his captives, or even people of his own if they cross him, or fail to do his bidding. He was the devil in disguise most say, but that day will come when he will be tested to see if he is a man of biblical proportions.
It was that night, that cold rainy night of October fifth that the life of Celestin forever changed to a hatred of mankind that at times even scared her. She wanted blood for what these bastard’s did to her friends, family and even her. She was desperate to pay these men back that she even joined the ladies of the night in trying to get her hands upon the devil, but was never given the opportunity before she ran into the man she now calls her lover. He was a strong man, a man of reason and had a concupiscent hatred for the Nazi as she did.
They met several nights after the death of Renee, she was entertaining a few spineless stormtroopers, trying to get the location where the Marshal was staying. It was an exasperating evening of swatting away groping hands, trying to keep a playful smile when all she wanted to do was cut their throats and let them drown on their own blood. She wasn’t going to sleep with any German, she wanted to get to an officer that would know the Marshal’s whereabouts.
Two of the men had enough of her resisting them and took maters into their own hands. Grabbing and pulling her into their clutching arms. The multiple hands began tearing at her clothes until the bark of the big man rose over the noise of the room and vulgar protest that was escaping over Celestin lips. Their attention going to the big man whom was walking toward them with several others following close behind. Casually tossing Celestin to the side they stand up and met his bark with one of their own.
A hard, cold voice brought the engagement to an end. The man whom Celestin wanted to kill was now standing just a small skip across the floor. Her eyes tore into him with a wave of vengeance that shook her body. The knife was small but enough to cut the soft flesh of the Marshal’s neck, but the hands of her now lover was stronger than what she could break as he prevented her stupidity from taking her life.
“Not here, not now.” His voice cutting through the blinding anger. “We can not win this moment here and now.” He continued to fight her attempts to get free. “There are more outside just wanting for trouble to erupt in here. Do you really want all these people here to pay for your moment of blindness?” Celestin eased her form and took a step back away from the man.
The German commanders words brought a quick response from the men as they grabbed their gear and walked out past the Commander. His glare pierced the hides of the men they came to rest upon before he turned and walked out of the small cafe. His voice rang out just moments before the small potato mashers were tossed into the cafe.
“Courir!” her lovers voice rang out while pushing her out side door of the cafe before the blast ripped the small building to pieces. Celestin not really knowing why she moved back to the building to see if anyone survived for the blast was tremendous, however to her amazed glare there was the man whom saved her life and was now her lover.
A powerful hand was now shaking her form, bringing her out of the dream she has had every night for the past two years and now once again there was a plan to find and make this Marshal pay for his atrocities against the French People. “Oui, je suis éveillé!” Celestin respond rolling to her back and looking over to her lover. “Nous avons quelques instants.” Celestin held out her arms for him to come to her.
Ambrioise embraced Celestin, pressing her smaller body to his. Her flesh was firm under his hands as his palms roved over her body. His lips first found the pulse points in her neck, kissing her there, then he let his teeth gently graze her skin. He could feel the nipples of her breasts, each hard like small stones, pressing into his chest. His body reacted to her in the natural way, and he pressed his turgid erection against her belly, a small growl escaping his lips.
"Mon petit chou, I wish we had more time," his words trailed off in a deep passionate kiss that left him slightly dizzy when their lips parted. "We have been summoned," was all he could manage to husk. "Le Cardinal...," he held up the small slip of paper with the code word that meant "Come immediately". With a heavy sigh he tried to disentangle himself, but his lover was having none of it, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hips insistent in their grinding. "There is a messenger, waiting to guide us to where Le Cardinal is waiting...," again his words were silenced as Celestin kissed him deeply
There was no one who knew Ambroise that would call him a weak man, an undisciplined man, but the woman whose arms and legs were currently wrapped around him was a woman of strong passions, driving needs, and profound will. When she woke like this, there was little Ambroise could do, it was like a storm that suddenly built out to sea, and then crashed down on the earth.
The resistance fighter knew that she had probably had her dream again, the one of her friend being murdered by the Nazis. This was her way of exorcising the nightmare from her head.
He groaned audibly as felt her hand firmly grasp his pulsing cock and guide it to her own sex, already wet and Vulcan hot. Ambroise heard and felt Celestin's hiss of pleasure in his ear before her own teeth found his sensitive places on his necks and ears. His hands found the round globes of her buttocks, each fitting perfectly in his bigger hands, as his lover began to urgently ride him. There was no pretense in her movements, she was demanding his orgasm, her pussy milking and squeezing his shaft, grinding herself down as hard as she possibly could on him. There was the exquisite feeling of her hands planted firmly on his chest as she braced herself, and then the erotic pain of her nails digging into his skin. She was growling like a cat in heat, and her movements became even more violent as he parted her buttocks and began to massage the entrance to her back passage with the tip of one of this thick fingers.
His orgasm was like a thunder bolt, hot electricity from his toes to his the pate of his head. "Mon Dieu!" he cried out as he exploded deep inside of her, her cry of ecstasy mixing with his. For what seemed like eternal minutes, her sex gripped him like a vice, all the way down to his base, and milked him almost like a grasping hand, pulling, demanding that he give her every last bit that he had within him. And then with a sigh, she wilted down onto his body, and he wrapped his muscular arms around her, both panting from their climaxes.
"Damn Le Cardinal, and damn the Nazis mangeurs de merde," Ambroise sighed. "That we could just be rid of both and live someplace where we could be together."
