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1,001 Words for Love II : Dumas, Alexandre

Light. Not sunlight. Vivid neon colors pulsing, pounding, fragmenting and fracturing, every color, blending madly, floating past, sometimes at impossible speeds before coming to a sudden halt.

“Where?”

Books fluttered past, pages opened like butterflies, words lifting like bees, buzzing around her head, letters spinning, cutting grooves in her flesh, lodging in her skin, some with faces, screaming obscenities, warning her to get out of the way, to hurry up, that God was coming, or had come, or was here, or was dead, or had never existed, fixing themselves to her until she was a tattooed canvas.

Time passed, speeding by then slowing to a crawl. She traced the words with her fingertips, reciting them, shivering at her own touch, her pulse quickening as she caressed her breasts, her nipples rising, swollen with blood, abandoning herself to herself, fingers dancing along over her soft belly, teasing her clit from its hidden recess, stroking her puffy pussy, her fingers delving between her lips, seeking out her depths, fragrant with the scent of desire and lust. Her body twisted until she could run her fingers over her own spine, sink her own tongue into her cunt, push her fingers into a place she had never dared consider before, crying out in passion her body went rigid with ecstasy again and again, tomorrow and the tomorrow after, the words on her fleshy canvas stretching and shifting, their voices rising like alien harmonies, clinging to her like a second skin.

“Here, Lucy, just reach out.”

“I can’t see you!”

A voice, one she should have recognized, a reminder of summer and strawberries and thunderstorms, but the words would not be overpowered, their voices rising in a din.

A cacophony of colored sound bustled around her, but still that voice called, fought through, a life line from some forgotten memory.

“Here!”

And suddenly, it had a name, this beacon of hope, anchoring her even as she became undone.

“Alice!”

“I love you!”

The mad calm filled her, soothing her, dreams of the littlest death, heart pounding, pulse racing, fighting for breath as her moans tore through her, and endless orgasm ripping through her until she fragmented again and again and again, leaving her with nothing but the most beautiful pleasure imagined.

o-O-o

She watched from the hedges, drinking in every detail with stained glass eyes; the checkerboard lawn, the twisted topiary, the colored ribbons dangling from balloon cats as they hovered upon a breezeless day, content to nap listlessly above the quiet park.

With a blink of her splintered orbs she memorized the moment before turning her attention to the small crowd gathering at the shore of the pond just behind her. Sons and daughters of pie makers and firemen. Butchers and bakers and candlestick makers. Sailors and woodsmen and stable masters, none of whom knew what it was like to be invisible. They were made of laughter and unburdened with the knowledge of what lay beyond the borders of the chessboard park.

Once upon a time she’d been made of smiles and ignorance, but that had been the mirror had shattered into a thousand pieces one fateful night, her happy ending slipping through her fingers like sunbeams through dust.

“I am going to rewrite the story.”

Her whisper was fierce, her eyes intent upon the lawn as she signaled to the mock turtles who replied by letting loose a bitter winter wind across the clearing that sent the cats tumbling through the air, their owners chasing after them in a panic. With a blown kiss to her shelled friends she slipped out of the hedge and onto the giant chessboard, carefully stepping into the square normally occupied by the Queen and disappearing from sight, pages fluttering like a thousand and one butterflies in her wake.

o-O-o

Shivering, she lifted the great weight of her head and stared across the poorly lit cell. The air smelled of bitter smoke and damp stone and sweat. She breathed it all in, delighting in the unmistakable fragrance of sex hidden just beneath it all.

“Where am I now?”

She stood still, not unwilling to move, but unable, the chill of metal encasing her wrists and ankles, clinging to her face like a second skin. She found a name for them; shackles, something she’d heard of long, long ago in another lifetime.

In the distance she heard a door open, infrequently oiled hinges squealing softly, followed by footsteps and a smooth voice, then the echo of the door slamming shut, sealing all within what appeared to be a dungeon. Certainly, her small room was a cell. The wall before her was fashioned of bars of steel, the others, including the one she had to twist in order to see, were roughly carved granite. Above her, a iron rings had been embedded into the stone. She hung from one, heavy chains attached to the locked wrist band, her arms raised straight above her head, her ankles attached to similar rings fixed to the floor forcing her thighs slightly apart.

“Oh ho! It looks like my lovely prisoner has awoken from her slumbers.”

She stared through the bars, her vision aided by the a torch in the hall beyond, at a pair of men, her gaze going first to one whom was beautiful. He was handsome in a slightly androgynous manner; dressed in silk, lace at his throat and wrists, his waistcoat buttoned across a slender chest and a narrow waist. He was clean shaven and his fine gold hair was drawn back in a ponytail. Bright blue eyes glittered from beneath fine lashes.

The other was shirtless, his well-muscled torso gleaming with sweat, his skin dark, and his head devoid of hair. He smiled at her, his eyes full of desires as his gaze travelled from her face to her bare breasts and then to her naked cunt. Blushing, she turned her head away from him, her words a soft murmur of sound.

“Where am I?”

“Tsk, tsk, my sweet. It is not your place to ask questions, only to answer them.”

His voice was soft and sensual, almost a caress, and it sent shivers up and down her spine. Letting out a sigh, she tugged helplessly at her chains, much to his amusement, pleasing silently, her gaze fixed to his somehow familiar blue orbs.

“You are going nowhere until I release you.”

“Who are you?”

“Oh, you tease! I am wounded.”

He gave her no other answer. Instead he produced a key and turned the lock of the cell door, allowing himself in before carefully locking it behind him, quickly producing another, more delicate key made of silver.

“This is the key to your shackles which, I assure you, will not being coming off in the near future.”

“What do you intend to do with me?”

His laughter rang through the cell like a bell.

“Do? Oh, dear God in Heaven. You are a delight. Here you hang, at our mercy, bereft of all modesty, and you wonder what we intend to do with you?”

Fear filled her belly as her imagination ran wild. Fear, and something else, something that took her entirely by surprise. Desire.

“Show her, Francois.”

She watched in fascination as the half-naked brute drew forth a finely wrought mask seemingly made of black metal.

“For you, my dear, to preserve your modesty, if not your virtue. I had this forged from Iron. A remarkable piece of work. Too bad you won’t be able to enjoy is as much as I will.”

He held it out so that she could get a closer look, taking careful note of two small holes for her nostrils, and carefully sculpted the lower half missing so that her mouth would be exposed. There was, however, no other opening. Whoever wore the mask would be without sight.

“Once on, only I will be able to remove it, my pet. Remember that well. Only I hold the key to your freedom.”

o-O-o

At first she’d counted the days. Then, when they grew too many, the weeks. After that it became months until finally, she gave up. It wasn’t a bad life she had to admit to herself. She was well fed and cared for, not unlike a favored cat. Her meals were always delivered by hand, and always by the charming and, as she remembered, very handsome Comte d'Artagan . A cage, however, not matter how comfortable, was still a cage, and it was how she spent her nights, in what she’d deduced was a bird cage suspended from the ceiling of one of his more private rooms, allowing him to show her off at his whim.

Fear and anger turned to resignation, which in turn became rebellion and then boredom. She grew used to being blind, taking walks in the garden, his hand her only guide, memorizing the grounds until she could walk the paths by herself if need be. In time, she became fond of him, looking forward to his company. He was well travelled as well as educated. His wit was quick, and he was both clever and entertaining. He treated her well, although, more than once, she had to wonder why he never once touched her. After all, she was in his power. He seemed to delight in seeing her naked, a fact he remarked upon at every opportunity, and she was never allowed to wear attire besides the mask and two pair of silver shackles he’d had custom fitted.

“Are you gay, Comte D’Artagan?” she’d queried once after listening to him play upon the harpsichord for her.

“Of course, pet! How could I not be with such delightful company at my side?”

“I mean, do you… prefer… men?”

“Ah, am I a homosexual.”

He paused for a long moment, as if mulling over the idea, before answering her.

“You wonder why I have not fucked you, pet.”

She nodded, her head turning slowly, focusing on the sound of his boots as he circled her hanging cage.

“Perhaps I await the right time. I am not, whatever else you might think of me, in the habit of raping young maidens, even ones as beautiful and available as you. If I asked you to make love to me, what would you answer?”

It was her turn to pause, her thoughts faraway, distant words, not forgotten, but certainly less fresh, came to mind.

I will find you.

“No.”

“Then I shall simply wait and, in the meantime, enjoy your exquisite company." 

o-O-o

Months became years. How many, she could not tell. Enough that her memories began to fade until they were lost to her.

“I want you to fuck me, Comte.”

“Ah, you have finally awoken from your long sleep, pet. May I have the pleasure of hearing you ask once more?”

“I… want you to fuck me.”

“I warn you, love. I have… peculiar tastes. If I were to agree to do such a thing, it would have to be on my terms. “

“Such as?”

“A party such as you have never seen before, with you as the center of attention and made available to my guests as well as myself. You will be their plaything, their quarry in a most unusual hunt, naked and sightless. Only when you have satisfied all my guests will I fuck you. What do you say, pet?”

She answered without thought, her heart pounding in her chest at the thought of being used over and over, wondering if she would be used gently or roughly, mounted by singles, pairs, trios, quartets, her cunt and ass and mouth spilling over with cum, her tits and belly coated with seed, forced to take cocks into her mouth. She blushed, feeling warm cream leaking from her pussy and down the insides of her thighs, knowing without seeing, that d’Artagan was watching her, smiling wickedly at the sight of her arousal. She fought for each breath, her nipples swelling painfully, her clitoris pushing from beneath her hood, throbbing with desire.

“Oh, yes, yes, and yes.”

o-O-o

Each day that passed after that was an endless agony. She knew the day approached, but when, she couldn’t ferret out of him.

“Be patient, pet. All in good time. There are invitations to me sent and a menu fit for such a sport must be carefully planned. These things do not happen overnight.”

“I can’t wait, fuck me now, just once, and I will stop asking.”

“No. You must wait. Trust me.”

She did, and she did. What other choice did she have?

o-O-o

She moved, swift and sure, through the garden, her smile hidden by the iron mask, the shouts and laughter of her pursuers waxing and waning in all directions. The ears of a fox, keen as keen could be, flattening herself in flower beds at the first hint of boot step or slipper fall, until she was covered in earth. All the better to conceal, not that she was averse to being found. In truth, it had been an age since she’s had so much fun and, although she played the game with all her skill, it was still a game she knew she’d gladly lose.

“Athos yet again!”

She smiled, picking out the voice her keeper, her owner, the man who’s thrown upon the cage door and smacked her soundly on the bottom with a warning to make herself scarce before he let loose ‘the hounds’. She knew, listening to them as the admired her in her cage, that they were old friends of her owners, comrades in arms who’d shared great adventures fraught with danger.

“I cannot believe we are having such trouble sniffing out your girl, d’Artagan!”

“Did I not warn you she was far more canny than she appeared?”

“Aye, yet still, I would have thought….”

She let loose a startled scream as she was suddenly pulled from her hiding place, alerting her owner and the Musketeer Athos to her plight.

“A-ha!”

“Porthos, my friend, what have you found?”

“A prize worthy of my efforts, I do believe. Come look! And find that fool Aramis as well!”

She struggled. After all, it was expected of her. Heart pounding in her chest, she gasped for breath, his grip unyielding on her wrist.

o-O-o

She had no way of telling between them, though she tried, giving up quickly, surrendering herself to simple pleasure. Unyielding fingers grasped her wrists, pulling them behind her, hot breath teased her exposed throat as finger tips tilted her jaw up and rough kisses assaulted her. She welcomed them, her lips parting, her tongue slithering like a serpent between the teeth of the voiceless, faceless man. She felt hands on her, too many to be only his, twisting her nipples, stroking her flanks, caressing her bottom, pinching her thighs, nails raking, sending waves of pain twisting through her core, waves that turned quickly turned to ecstasy.

A flood of heat burned through her as she was entered, fingers questing into her dripping wet cunt, curving within her, massaging her clenching hole, exploring her most intimate of places. She felt fevered, voices thick with lust mocking her, naming her slut and whore. Humiliation at being used like this warred with pride at being the object of their lust. She gasped as a mouth found her nipple, sucking it between hungry lips as teeth sank into her other breast, all the while expert fingers moved maddenly slowly in and out of her insatiable cunt.

“How is it you’ve been keeping this nasty little whore from us?”

Lusty laughter followed. Breathlessly, she tried to join in, a kiss silencing her, tongue forcing its way into her mouth even as her arms were raised over her head. She felt a moment of panic as she heard the clink of chain, her shackles reattached, and a strain on her arms as she was lifted to her toes. She recalled the orchard and over hanging tree branches and then all thought fled her fleshy cheeks were parted and the most wonderfully think finger caressed her crack, pressing wetly against her rose bud, pushing slowly into her virgin ass.

“You begged me to fuck you.”

A breathy whisper in her ear, her owner’s voice sending a toe curling thrill through her.

“Oh, Yes, please.” She whimpered, breaking another’s kiss, feeling his grip on her hips as his finger slid deeper and deeper into her backdoor, feeling his knuckles push her ring wide as he filled her, protesting as her cunt was suddenly abandoned, her words interrupted as a sharp blow struck her mons, sending tendrils of heated pain through her, her feet leaving the earth as her spine curved, her arms taking all her weight. Someone struck her nipple sharply, and she would have twisted around if not for the finger impaling her tight asshole. And then it was two fingers as a second invaded her.

“I think she’s ready for something more satisfying, Porthos.”

"Move aside then, you lout, and let me prick her with my sword!”

“Oh, yes!” she moaned, feeling her folds pushed to the side, the head of a cock pressing between them, pushing into her, impossibly huge, stretching her fuck hole wide.

“Oh, God, yes!”

“What a nasty little cunt you have found for us to play with, d’Artagan. We are forever in your debt.”

Holding her breath she lifted her legs, wrapping them around the hips of her assailant, hooking her ankles, thrusting her hips against him, desperate to drive his meaty cock into her dripping hole, desperate to cum as a pair of long slender fingers belong to her owner, or so she presumed, spiraled slowly in and out of her nether hole, driving her slowly mad with anticipation as she felt her climax building slowly to a boiling point.

“My, my, aren’t we a nasty little wench, love.”

“Oh my God, yes!”

She exploded, her scream echoing across the orchard, grinding her hips against whoever was fucking her, a pair of fingers plunging deep into her ass, spasms tearing her apart as she felt a flood of hot cum filling her, a masculine shout of triumph masking her cries of ecstasy as the most exquisite of orgasms tore through her.

“Score one for Aramis!”

Before she could protest, he pulled out of her cream filled cunt, only to be replaced by rough stubble and a hungry mouth.

“No, no, I cannot take more.”

“Oh, yes, pet, remember, it was you who begged for this.”

She screamed as strong fingers grasped her nipples, twisting and turning them, her legs being parted, lifted over shoulders as a skilled tongue invaded her cum filled pussy, lapping playfully within her so that she hardly noticed the absence of fingers filling her ass.

“What is it you want more than anything, my pet?”

“For you to fuck me.” She whispered desperately.

“Good girl.”

She felt the mushroom shaped head of his cock, slippery with spit, press against her empty hole, his hand gripping her tits, fingers digging painfully into them, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he took her from behind. She came almost immediately, the tongue in her pussy driving her to heights she’d never imagined, even in her wildest dreams, her ass clenching his agile cock, pushing against it as he slowly pushed inside of her.

“Fuck me!” she cried, and he did, showing her no mercy. She lost herself, barely noticing when the tongue was replaced by a cock, her cries smothered by savage kisses, fiery pain bursting through her impossibly swollen nipples as strong sharp teeth bit into her flesh.

“My instincts were correct, you make a delightful little whore. “

“Your whore.”

He answered her with another thrust, this one deep, deep, deep into her ass, her body going rigid as he spurted hot cum inside of her, filling her, his cock still pumping insider her cum slick fuck hole, letting out a cry as he let loose another load, and another, his seed dripping out of her ass, running down the insides of her thighs even as she felt the cock in her pussy tense and a deep moan signal the arrival of yet more cum, her own climax robbing her of all senses…

She was drifting on a sea, spinning slowly, twisting as darkness stole over her, as somewhere far away, she heard the howling of winds and the kiss of violence that seems to shake the very earth as she suddenly felt gravity pull at her. Screaming, she fell for what seemed a lifetime, clawing blindly, praying for something to grasp onto, terror stealing her breath away until consciousness abandoned her entirely, a whispered voice the last thing she heard.

Remember me.

To be continued…

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.


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