I had bid Sven good evening after drinking with him again, which was a poor decision. The man could hold is liquor. banshee had been delivered to Donald earlier in the evening, and I would collect her in the morning. Sven had made sure that the bed was made with Egyptian cotton white sheets, a thousand thread count, a canvas to receive the blood of banshee’s hymen as proof that I hadn’t cheated him out of his money.
I staggered into my room and lay down in the bed. Even though I was drunk, I could still smell her scent on the pillow. So virginal, so exotic. I went to her suitcase and pulled out the panties she had worn the night before. I couldn’t help myself as I brought them to my nose and inhaled the smell of her pussy. I pulled out my cock and stroked it, thinking of her fresh, virginal pussy.
I couldn’t take it. I zipped up.
Standing up, I headed for the door. Then stopped. Surely, by now they had done the deed…my chance to have her virginity was gone. I slumped to the floor, back against the door, her panties still against my nose, and I wept.
Why had I done it? Surely, after all the years of lusting after my cute, then beautiful, then erotic neighbor, with her surrendering totally to me, surely I deserved to have that prize? I wept at my disappointment in myself. I cried because there was no way I would ever forgive myself.
And I wailed as I thought about the fact that banshee…Rachel, would never forgive me for what I had done.
I’m not ashamed to admit it, what is shame after you have lost everything you ever wanted? I cried myself to sleep there on the floor.
About three in the morning, I woke with a monstrous headache and churning bowels. I stumbled into the bathroom and barely found the toilet in time to throw up all the beer and that damn absinthe Sven had insisted we drink. After I dry heaved a dozen or more times, I crawled to the sink, and hauled myself up. Light spilled in from the bedroom area, I had neglected to darken the room before wallowing in my damnable self pity.
I looked like I felt; a haggard old man more friends with agonizing death than ever I would be with Rachel. A lost soul. If my prose leaves something to be desired, surely it is because as I write this, I’m reliving the agony I felt, the pain of loss, of staring deep into Nietzsche’s abyss, and the harrowing feeling of being drilled to my core by the eyes of the beast. I filled a glass with water and rinsed out my mouth.
But it wasn’t enough to rid my mouth of that caustic burn, so I turned on the lights, wincing in pain, and put toothpaste on my toothbrush.
I stopped, dropping the tube of Colgate and my brush. I touched the sink to the right of where my toothbrush had been. I don’t have very many idiosyncrasies, but this was one of them…
I always placed my straight razor to the right of my toothbrush on the right side of the sink…but it wasn’t there. I inspected the drawer, my overnight bag, and the floor. My razor was gone.
I tore the bedroom apart, and the suitcases, desperate, because I knew, deep down, that only one person would have, could have, taken it. Rachel.
What was she going to do with it? Surely if she had killed herself or harmed Donald, I would have heard something by now? Or maybe not, Sven and I had agreed to let them have the whole night together undisturbed. They had been allowed carte blanche with room service, so if Rachel had done something….something deadly, then we wouldn’t know until morning.
I splashed water on my face, pulled on my shoes, and opened the door, ready to run to the east wing of the hotel; to Donald’s room. I didn’t get far. She was at the door.
Rachel looked me in the eyes, she was wearing nothing more than a pool towel. Her hair was matted and wet, and she looked even more used up than I felt. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and I barely caught her as she slumped into my arms.
Once I had her in the bed, I took off the towel and looked her over. Her back had some new welts, he had caned or whipped her, but other than that, she didn’t seem to be damaged…her butthole wasn’t bleeding, and her pussy had been wiped clean of any blood. Her nipples looked sore.
Donald had peed on her, I could tell, her hair was tangled and smelled slightly acidic. But nothing accounted for her soporific state. I decided to let her sleep, her breathing was regular, and I surmised that with rest, she would be fine. As I stood, I saw something move under the door to our hotel room.
When I walked over to the door, I realized what it was.
Someone had returned my straight razor, pushing it through the crack under the door. Perplexed, I returned it to its spot and lay down next to Rachel. I gently took her hand and mine, but she winced, and pulled away from me.
What had I done?
Later that morning, I woke to the sound of the shower. She was singing ‘Bette Davis Eyes’ again. I got up and went to the bathroom.
She stopped singing when I entered. I decided that I just couldn’t face her. I brushed my teeth, and went down to get some coffee. On my way out of the room, I made a quick decision. I pulled out ten thousand dollars from my emergency fund that I kept in a secret pocket in my suitcase. I laid it on the nightstand where she could see it. If she wanted to bolt; she could.
Sven and Donald were having brunch at the booth where we had met two nights ago. I still didn’t know exactly what had happened, so I approached the booth with trepidation that quickly dissolved when Sven’s eyes lit up and he smiled with his Walrus like exuberance.
“J! COME EAT WITH US!”
Donald smiled at me sheepishly. Then he winked, once, so quick I almost didn’t see it. I was totally perplexed.
As I sat, Sven handed me a Polaroid. It was of the bed sheets on which Donald and Rachel had fucked. What had surely started as a bright red bloodstain had turned to ochre by the time this picture had been taken.
“SHE BLED GOOD, NO?”
I choked on my coffee…”Yeah, she bled good.”
Donald passed me a shopping bag that held the clothes she had worn the night before. I looked at them for some sign of the trauma that had caused her to pass out in my arms. The clothes; panties, bra, camisole, frilly blouse, short skirt, and stockings were all neatly folded and her white high heel pumps sat on the top of the pile. No clues there.
We talked about the weather, what flight they were taking, what they thought about America, and we got into some politics. I was enthralled with Sven’s political leanings, and was starting to feel the unease and queasiness from the morning pass as I managed to keep down a Denver omelet.
All of nausea came roaring back as I saw Rachel enter the restaurant.
She had opted for tight blue jeans and a sporty orange blouse that showed off her cleavage to her advantage. She had on a light shade of lipstick, but no other makeup. Here hair was in a pony tail. She clutched a little orange handbag that matched her top.
I couldn’t tell anything from the look on her face. Was it one of desperation? Would she bolt for the street when she saw me, saw us? She seemed to be heading towards the street side restaurant exit when her eyes caught mine.
It felt like a million years passed in that second. I know I went white, and Sven had stopped talking.
Then a smile that bloomed on her face like a morning glory in full sun, accompanied by her eyes brightening up, told me that whatever had passed the night before, she was fine. She hastened over and we all stood, but it was Donald she embraced, kissing him chastely on the cheek.
“Good morning, love.” Donald said to her. She looked at me but didn’t embrace me. She just took her seat and cast her eyes downward with a sly grin on her face.
Sven bought her breakfast, crepes Suzette, and then grabbed Donald’s arm.
“WELL, J, THANK YOU! MAYBE YOU WILL OFFER US YOUR HOSPITALITY AGAIN SOON?” He smiled lasciviously. “MAYBE I COULD GET A LITTLE BIT NEXT TIME?”
“Maybe? Who knows?” I agreed nonchalantly, trying to keep the thought ‘not a chance in hell, you old bastard’ off of my face. We stood and I shook first Sven’s, then Donald’s hands in a parting gesture. Rachel kissed Donald on the lips, with a little more fire this time. When Sven leaned in for a kiss, I saw him reach down to squeeze her hands in his. She let her right hand get captured, but she put her left arm behind her back, out of his reach. Sven didn’t seem to notice, and his left hand found her hip instead.
I noticed. I noticed that she kept her left hand clenched in a fist. As Sven kissed her hard, she clenched her fist tightly. A tiny rivulet of blood dripped out of her fist and landed on the carpet.
Donald saw the blood, and quickly stepped to the rear of banshee, his shoe covering up the stain.
That’s when it hit me.
I hadn’t found any open wounds when I inspected her last night because she had carefully hidden the wound in the one place she knew I wouldn’t want to inspect, her hand. And she had winced when I tried to hold her hand not because she was mad at me, but because of the cut.
Sven broke off the kiss, smiled at us; “GOODBYE MY FRIENDS!” He took Donald’s shoulder, and as they walked away, I pressed a fresh napkin into Rachel’s hand. I also stepped forward to cover the bloodstain as Donald was forced to uncover it. Sven never noticed.
“How much blood did you lose?” I whispered in her ear.
Sven and Donald had left the restaurant. Rachel looked me in the eyes. “We couldn’t find a first aid kit, and we didn’t want the towels to get all bloody. The toilet paper was already low, so I just let it bleed into the sink…” she teared up, and I sat her down. I gently uncurled the fingers of her left hand and removed the blood soaked napkin. She had made a good two inch incision across her palm, diagonally. It was a good clean cut, I kept my straight razor very sharp, but it was also very deep.
“Oh, my, how did that happen!?” a waitress who had come by to refill my coffee exclaimed. “I’ll get a first aid kit for you!” and she rushed off to the kitchen.
“How much did you drink, Rachel?”
“Two bottles of champ….” The tears in her eyes started flowing even more. “Whhh, whhhy did you call me that?”
The waitress returned with the first aid kit. I staunched the blood flow, dabbed the wound with iodine, placed three butterfly stitches, and then wrapped her hand in gauze. Later, we would need to go to the emergency room to get it stitched up. “The alcohol made your blood thin. That’s why it hasn’t clotted.” I told her.
“J! Why? Why did you call me that???” she was getting hysterical.
“Let’s go.” I said, and we went back to our room.
Inside, she immediately began disrobing.
“Keep your clothes on,” I said.
She stopped with her jeans halfway down her slender legs…then she pulled them back up and buttoned them. She assumed the position.
“Stop that.” I said. “Sit on the bed.”
“Don’t call me that, Rachel.”
“I’m NOT RACHEL!!!!” she screamed at me.
I pulled her to me and gently kissed her tears away. I licked her lips, kissing them softly. When she stopped crying, I sat her on the edge of the bed and I knelt in front of her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She nodded through a whimper, trying hard not to break out in tears again.
“How did you convince Donald to let you keep your virginity?”
A slow smile spread across her lips, and then she giggled.
“It wasn’t hard. He’s as gay as Adam Lambert.” She let me in on the secret.
“Who’s…oh, never mind,” I said, laughing with her. “But you guys did have some fun, right?”
“It took some convincing. And I had to do a lot of things with the lights off. Oh, and he liked it when” and she dropped the tone of her voice into a fake baritone “I talked like this…”
I burst out laughing. She laughed with me…
Then she started kissing me, harder and harder….”Now, wait, why didn’t you get dressed before you came back to our room?”
“Donald tried to get me to, but I was feeling so woozy from all the alcohol and bleeding so much. I just knew that if I passed out in Donald’s room, I might bleed on something I wasn’t supposed to and the Sven would figure it out. Donald told his dad that he sent me back to you naked because I didn’t drink all of his pee.”
“Conniving little….” I let it go. It was what it was.
She resumed kissing me, pulling my hands to her breasts.
“No, Rachel!” I said, pulling away.
She frowned, but let go of me. “Why not? I saved it for you,” she pouted.
“And I mean to have it,” I said. “After we’re married.”
I have never seen Rachel look so incredibly shocked.
“But, I want to be your slave!” she protested.
“You can be my slave. After you become my wife…”
“But, does that mean,” I could see the myriad of questions fluttering through her mind.
“Oh, darling, never in a million years would I place any value on anything other than your pleasure. And I know that being my slave has brought you pleasure. We can resume our training, but only after I’ve put a ring on your finger.”
She looked so happy, and she jumped into my arms, kissing me ferociously. For the first time since she took the initiative to show up naked on my doorstep did she show any aggressiveness.
She pushed me down on the bed, pulling my shirt off. “You dirty old bastard.”
“I’ve always loved you, Rachel.”
“Yes, but you’re dirty because you fell in love with me when I was eleven,” she giggled.
“But I didn’t do anything about it,” I protested playfully.
“Yeah, but you thought about it. How many pictures of me in my bikini do you have in your camera?” she had her shirt and bra off now, and she was teasing her nipples.
“A few…” I admitted, helping her fondle her breasts.
She unbuttoned my jeans and pulled out my cock. Then she gave me an evil look. “I used to sit in my bed at night, rubbing my clit while I fantasized about you…” she licked the tip, and then swallowed it down until I could feel the head of my cock against the back of her throat.
When she came off of it, she continued, “One time, you fucked that red-haired girl for like an hour straight. I was kneeling behind the bushes. It was summer, so I was in these short shorts, and it was easy to get them out of the way of my pussy. I timed it so that every time you came on her, I came, too.” I remembered that day. It was one of those sessions that seemed like I would never run out of cum.
“You came on her face, and I came,” she slurped my cock. “Then you came in her ass, and I put a finger up my ass to feel what it would be like. It hurt a bit, in fact, I yelped, but that red haired one was moaning so loud, I don’t think you heard me. All the while I rubbed my pussy, cumming again.” She deep throated me again.
“And then you came all over her tits, and even though my breasts were just barely beginning to develop, I pinched my nipples, making myself cum in time to you.” She went back to sucking my cock.
“How old were you?” I asked throatily.
‘Thirteen, then. Do you remember finding my gift for you?”
“The green pair of panties by the pool?” I asked. I had always wondered where those had come from. They didn’t belong to the girl I had been training, Blaze.
“Yeah, it was naughty of me. My mom kept asking where they were.” She went back to my cock, licking the head of it, down the shaft.
Then she jumped off the bed and took of her jeans in a sexy strip tease.
“J?” she asked.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Will you lick my pussy?” she asked nervously.
“Yes, baby, do you want to sit on my face?” She nodded, biting her lower lip demurely, and then she straddled my face and ground her pussy down onto my mouth. I began licking her hard, keeping my tongue and teeth away from her still intact hymen.
She came quickly, bucking hard, and then, coming down from her orgasm, she took my cock in her mouth and began sucking it up and down as hard as she could. Right as I was about to fill her mouth with cum, I felt her tense up…and SHE PISSED INTO MY MOUTH AS HARD AS SHE COULD!
It was incredible; I came in waves as I swallowed down her tasty piss. She was sucking all of my cum into her mouth and I could feel her swallow it down.
We lay like that for a minute as I came down, my cock never leaving her mouth. Then I stiffened, and she suckled at it as it was my turn to fill her with my piss.
When she was done drinking, she let my limp cock fall from her mouth, breathing hard….