Adult Image Library 1/Adult_Image_Library_Volume_1.iso/stories/aimee_j.txt

Text File | 1996-04-15 | 18KB | 347 lines

AIMEE'                                                         Chapter VIII
~~~~~                                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The bitter cold whipped against Aimee's face.  "My cloak, sir.
Please!"

     "It is of no matter, Aimee'," Teltirray hissed, impatiently.  He
disliked waiting, especially when a stupid girl like Aimee' slowed him
down.  Although even he had to admit that she was less stupid than most.
Her beauty, like flawless amber, attracted him to her, and he had known so
many months ago that he had to possess her.  He had arranged with the idiot
at the orphanage to "tutor" her, so long as all record of her existence
disappeared off their books.  If she died, there would be no investigation.
He knew that.  He had paid good money for that little "feature."

     He smiled.  "Feature."  The convenience of sloughing off one of these
simple creatures was something he would easily pay for, just to be done
with it.  Especially in these later years, now that he had found a route to
power that once he had only dreamed of.  For that route, though, Aimee' was
almost entirely used up.  Her body could not withstand the pleasures he
sought for much longer, although he had to admit that both Bethsany and
Darynn had trained her very well, for although his need for violence had
increased a great deal, so had her survivability, just by her strength.  He
would call on their services again to train the next one.

     Aimee' was sobbing silently as he hauled her through the snowbound
streets.  "Silence, girl!" he snarled at her.  That insufferable noise
would drive him mad after too long, and he could not bear to hear it.  "You
will have plenty of tears when we get home."

     "Sir, please.  I cannot!"

     "Oh, you certainly can, Aimee'.  Because I so will that you can."

     "Sir!"

     "I said shut up!"  He released her long enough to slap her across the
face, then grabbed her by the hair and pushed her in front of him.

     They reached his small, round home soon enough, and the doors opened
to let him in.  "Good evening, sir," his chamberlain said.

     "I will be in the upper chambers tonight, Ricar.  See to it that I am
not disturbed."

     "Of course, sir."  Teltirray watched, pleased, as he bowed and walked
away, his back stiff and strong.  Men were like that, he thought, strong.
Even the ones who could not do magic deserved his respect far more than the
soft, pathetic forms of the lesser sex, although the magic-less always
deserved to be the chattel of men like him.

     He led her up the flights of stairs and into his bedroom.  "Remove
your clothes."

     "Sir..."

     "Do it!" he growled.  "Or I'll flay the skin from your bones."

     Aimee' looked away, and Teltirray saw her jaw clenched in anger.  He
smiled to himself, knowing that she was helpless to do anything.  She would
submit to his whims.  She removed her boots, then slowly undid her pants,
picking up one leg at a time and sliding out of them.  She tossed the scarf
aside, but as she removed her shirt she hesitated.  Teltirray saw a curious
smile cross her face.  "You're dawdling!"  His anger grew as she hesitated
longer, but finally she threw her tunic aside with a snarl.  Teltirray
laughed.  "Is my pussy kitty angry?" he asked, soft and sarcastic.  "Get on
that bed!"

     She hesitated, and he swore.  Without a word, he thought his favorite
spell in her direction, simple Pain, and she buckled over, agonized.  Her
stomach would tie itself into knots fighting the pain he was feeding her if
he didn't let up.  Finally he did.  "Now, get on the bed, Aimee'."

     "You'll kill me anyway," she gasped, looking up at him.

     He backhanded her.  Although a mage and not a warrior, he was still a
strong man, and she staggered back, landing on the bed.  He reached down
and snatched her right wrist,  wrapping a black band around it.  "I could
make it more painful, you know," he growled.

     "It already hurts!"

     "I'll make it worse!" he replied.  "You weak bitch."  He turned her
over, and although she fought, his strength made her less than a rag doll,
and he affixed another black band to her left wrist.  "Take her," he said
to the air, and the bands pulled her into the air.  She whimpered.  "That's
it," he smiled at her.  "That's it.  Try and remember the spells Darynn
taught you.  Try and use them.  Save yourself as much as possible.  It'll
just make my pleasure last longer."

     Aimee' concentrated.  She tried to find the spells she knew, and in
the back of her mind they were marshalling to her defense.  Chants flowed
from her lips, soft and sensuous to her tongue as they healed her wounds
and eased her pain.  "Good," Teltirray sniggered.  "That's it.  Make it
last longer."   Her chest heaved as she breathed, gasping the words to
spells that might make her last one more minute.  She felt his hand caress
her belly, her thighs.  More bands went onto her ankles, and Teltirray
spread her legs apart.  His magic glued her to the wall over his bed like
some obscene statue.  She had spent more than one night like that, over his
head, forced to sleep that way for his amusement.  His hands touched her
almost gently.  "Say goodbye, Aimee'."

     She looked down at him, holding her voice for a moment.  All she said
was, "Goodbye."

     Teltirray grimaced, taking up a heavy, knotted scourge in his hands.
"Now," he said, "Scream for me."  The wall behind Aimee' grew warm, and she
felt the flow of magic through it.  She didn't know what the magic was, but
she could feel it coursing into her, as if seeking something within her.
It wasn't just magic... it was alive.  And it was looking for something
within her, but she could almost feel it's frustration and she knew it
didn't know how to find what it was looking for.

     Teltirray was smiling at her, his eyes alight with madness.  "It's a
demon," he said.  "A friend.  It... supplies me with the knowledge I need.
The cost, of course, is you.  Not that I mind."  His smile twisted into an
ugly snarl.  "It needs your pain, Aimee', but eventually even that won't
do.  Then, it wants your life.  But it doesn't know how to find it."  He
looked down at the whip.  "Pain is also his map.  And this... this will
show him the way."

     He shouted as he brought the whip down against her body.  The blades
of black leather crashed against her belly and she grunted in sharp pain.
The whip fell again, the tails landing hard against her thighs.  She
squirmed, holding her tongue in, trying not to scream.  The presence within
her turned, seeking.  The whip came again, against her chest.  Ugly red
streaks grew from her skin.

     As Teltirray struck her, harder and harder, he began cursing her.  "I
let Darynn teach you too well how to handle pain."  His efforts grew harder
as he slammed the whip into her skin, torturing her, giving her all the
pain and suffering he could inflict.  The presence within her lived on the
pain, enjoying it as much as it seemed ready to enjoy her death.  She could
not afford to give in.

     But the whip was too persuasive.  She bled from a dozen tortured
slashes, the crimson fluid coursing down her body.  Darynn had told her,
once, about how precious blood was, and Bethsany had talked about the magic
of menstrual blood, and she herself knew what it meant to drop it to the
soil.  The whip fell once more, and finally she screamed.

     "Yes!" Teltirray shouted as he whipped her.  "Scream, Aimee', scream!"
She did.  She twisted and tore at her impenetrable bonds.  Teltirray's face
was covered in sweat, his muscles bunched, the whip flying over his head to
strike at her body again and again in long, angry slashes.  Aimee' cried
and screamed as the tears dripped off her chin and the blood streamed down
her body and dripped from her toes onto Teltirray's pillow.

     And as she screamed, her body fighting without her control, her mind
came oddly to peace.  The demon was coming for her soul, now, and she found
she could live with that.  She opened her eyes.

     In the background, she heard the sounds of the whip and the screams of
her mouth, but in her eyes she saw only a door.  A curious, oaken door,
encarved with runes, and at the center it read, simply, Aimee'.  She knew
where she stood, and she knew there was no reason to fight.  She threw the
door open and waited for the demon to come for her.

     It came.  A green, ugly thing, shaped like a man with the head of a
cow and the muscles of some corrupt machine, it charged for her, its face
lewd and grinning.

     But as it lunged for the door, she felt a coolness about her throat,
and then something... someone blocked her view.  A sword of icy blue
flickered in her vision, and a squeal of indignant pain echoed out in the
corridors of her mind.  Then the body in her way was gone, running after
the demon it... she had struck with the sword.  She was dressed in leathers
of the same cold blue of the sword.  Aimee' looked out, wondering what she
was staring it.  The sky was a light grey color, and before her spread a
cold, flat, sheet of dark grey ice.  In the distance, two figures fought,
the woman with the sword, and the green and hateful demon.

     The demon sprang for the woman, and the woman blocked the airborne
monster with an easy swipe of the sword.  The demon thudded across the ice.
"Girl!" she shouted at Aimee'.  "You must kill Teltirray!  I will not be
able to hold this creature forever!"

     "I don't know how!"

     "Yes, you do!  Now go!"  The woman gestured, and a blue bolt flew at
Aimee', striking her body.

     She looked out into the world.  Her vision was blurred, and Teltirray
was panting, holding the whip in one hand, but he was not hitting her
anymore.  "Why don't you die?" he screamed at her.  "Die, you stupid bitch!
Die!"

     He looked at her, his eyes fixed at her.  "I'll make you hurt so much
the demon will be sure to find your soul.  To the Dark with whips."  He
reached forward, his hand on her belly, and began chanting.  Aimee'
recognized the spell, The Pain That Will Kill, and accepted it into her
body.  Her nerves began to burn.  Teltirray had used this spell on her
before, and she had learned, if not to enjoy it, to at least understand it.
And as the pain reached into her soul, she heard the clash of claws and
steel within.  She grinned at Teltirray.

     "Die, damn you!"  Teltirray's eyes narrowed as the sweat poured from
his balding head.  "Die!"

     But Aimee' refused to die.  She refused to let him win.  And as she
accepted The Pain That Will Kill, she recognized the sensation.  She knew
that spell.  She had seen it in a mirror once, as The Pleasure That Sings.
She had seen it a long time ago.  In a book.  Darynn's book.  And she knew
how to use The Pleasure That Sings.  And in knowing, she saw the
differences between the two spells.  With an almost casual, contemptuous
thought, she turned Pain inside out and claimed it as her own.

     The look in Teltirray's face turned from hatred to shock as he felt
his hand burn.  Flames erupted in his imagination.  Surely he had to be on
fire!  He backed away from her, feeling The Pain That Will Kill for the
first time directed at his own flesh.  He screamed as the pain  became
instantly more than he could bear.

     Aimee' had no trouble maintaining the spell.  It didn't matter anymore
if the power she needed to kill him killed her as well.  His demon was
busy, his power expended, his concentration ruined.  She had him.  She
stepped away from the wall and fell to the bed, crumpling to her knees.  In
her soul, sword and claws clashed.  And she knew who wielded the sword.  It
could only be.

     "That necklace!" Teltirray shouted.  "Bethsany!  That bitch!  I'll
kill her when I'm finished with you!"  He leapt for, his hands upon her,
grabbing for her throat.

     Aimee' panicked, and in her instinctual reaction her knee came up
solidly between his legs.  Pain redoubled pain in Teltirray's belly, and he
doubled over, grabbing at his crotch, his eyes closed with suffering.
"And, now, Master Teltirray, it's over."  Seizing a heavy candlestick
holder from the bedside, she smashed it down on his head.  He grunted in
surprise, but seemed unable to summon any more than that to his defense.
She struck him again.  Over and over until his skull staved in and his
heart stopped beating.  And then, in her own blinding pain from the
suffering he had inflicted with the whip, she collapsed, falling off the
bed and onto the floor.

     She crawled, slowly, to her cloak, pulling it over her.  The magic had
stopped, and with it her strength had fled.  She had only one thought now,
one thing to sustain her.  Sobbing softly, she opened the door and limped
down the stairs.  She escaped through the service door in the kitchen.

     The snow bit bitterly into her feet, making her wince as she walked,
but she never slowed down.  The cold ate at her through the rough, thick
wool.  It didn't matter.  Her tears grew stronger, yet in the dead of
winter even the hardiest thief dared not go out, and she walked across the
city, block after frozen block, unmolested and alone.  Finally, her pain
reaching blinding proportions again, she found the door she sought.  She
collapsed in front of it, moaning softly in pain as she scabbed her knee on
the icy stone, and pounded on the heavy oaken door with the flesh of her
palm.

     A rustle within, a questioning inquiry through the door, a familiar
tickle of magic.  Then, the sudden rush of bolts being thrown and wards
being broken.  The door threw open.  "Aimee'!"

     Darynn reached down and picked her up, carrying her inside.  The door
closed behind him.  "You must be frozen!"

     She suddenly realized that he was holding her.  With a whimper, she
threw her arms around him and held onto him for her life, realizing that
she was safe, finally.  Tears broke out of her again, and his arms
surrounded her while she cried her final cry, letting out the last year of
pain and suffering, giving it to Darynn, and then to the past.  "He's
dead," she gasped at one point.  "He's dead."

     "Are you sure?"

     Aimee' nodded.  "I... I crushed his skull."  A snarl crossed her
pretty mouth as her eyes searched Darynn's face, looking for confirmation.
"I dropped him to the floor with Pain and then I took the candlestick and
hit him again and again and again until his blood and his brains ran over
the bedsheets!  He's dead, Darynn, he's dead!"

     "Certainly sounds like it."  He gave her a gentle squeeze.  "You're
bloody all over, Aimee'."

     "Hurts," she agreed softly.  "I... I need to get clean.  And my boots.
I forgot to take the laces out of them.  I need to get back..."

     Darynn recognized that kind of logic as belonging to someone in a
great deal of shock and confusion.  "No, Aimee', you don't.  You need to
come with me."

     "But... Teltirray..."

     "Is dead, remember?"  He smiled gently, a smile that hid his fear
within.  "Come.  Come with me."

     "If... you're sure it's safe?"

     "Very," Darynn replied.  "Come."

     She finally agreed and followed him.  He led her into the bedroom,
then through to the bath.  "Sit," he said, indicating the large wooden tub.
She complied.  He drew warm water for her, and did his best to clean the
wounds that crossed her belly, breasts, and thighs.  The dried blood
softened with the water and slowly he exposed the beautiful girl who lay
hidden underneath all that running redness.  With a few gentle spells he
closed the worst of her wounds, the ones that still wept blood and serum.

     He found himself wondering what she would look like in the throes of
passion, or even the pain of whips when the whips were lovingly
administered.  It was the first time in decades he had considered a woman
as a companion, and the first time ever that the idea actually appealed to
him.  Yet, it wasn't Aimee's femininity that appealed to him so much as it
was her raw, inner strength.  She had killed Teltirray, to hear her say it.
And within, he believed her.  He was as sure as she that Teltirray had come
to earn what he deserved.

     And, curiously, her shape appealed to him as well.  The effect was
indescribable.  Something new, he realized, and he did not reject the
thought.  It did not bother him that he found someone beautiful just
because he was unfamiliar with her kind of beauty.  "Sir?" he heard her
ask.

     Looking down, he realized that he had cupped her breast in his hand
and was fondling her gently.  "My apologies, Aimee'.  I was... distracted."
Yet, he could not imagine what he would do with her.  Actually, he knew
full well.  He just could not imagine a balance to it, the kind of balance
he found among men, where each could fulfill both roles, as taker and
giver, with a woman, even though he knew full well that most people lived
lives of such imbalance every day.  "There will be an investigation, you
know."

     She nodded, her eyes barely open.  "I know.  I wonder what will
happen?"

     "I do not know."  He stroked her wet and glistening skin, so red and
dark, and found himself wishing he could touch more of her.  What more did
he want?

     Then, he remembered.  And he smiled.  He wanted her to undress in his
presence and say that she wanted him.  To be as forward, as forceful, as
gleefully hungry to bed him as any boy or man Darynn had ever had.  For
that, he could wait.

     He helped her out of the tub and dried her off.  She stumbled a little
as she walked, but she finally and successfully navigated her way to a
bedroom he showed her, and finally he pulled the blankets over her and she
was asleep.

--
"Aimee', Chapter 8"
Aimee' is copyright (c) 1993 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  This story may be
freely distributed by electronic media; hardcopies are limited to single
printings for personal use.