Alice - black & white

It isn’t what I wanted
What I dreamed
What I worked for

Burn

Giving up
The dream
For a new one

Far
Not too far
Home

Burn

Friends lost
Found
Hidden inside

Mounds
Paper
Tell the tale

Gasoline
Sulfur
Lick of flame

Burn

Five years
Ten
What’s to say?

Three feet high
Four feet wide
Fuel

Hot
Sweet
Easy to forget

Nothing left
But the ashes
Of tomorrow

My mother spent a lot of time amusing herself. When I was younger, I had no idea what she meant. All I knew was that when she needed time to amuse herself, she’d retreat to the quiet confines of her bedroom and lock the door behind her.

Some mornings it’s there when I wake. Other days it needs a trigger. A scent. A subtle glance. An unexpected visual delight. Today, I only needed you. And today you were not available so I had to amuse myself.

A little preparation goes a long way. Like the tall glass mug on the bedside table next to me, filled to almost full with not quite boiling water. Like another item, also made of glass. One with delicate swirls of color circling the smooth rounded dome of one end and a dark circular ring on the other. One that’s turned like a fine piece of art from the lathe of an artisan and studded with small ruby beads along its length.

Final preparations. Locking the door, vibrations of my childhood ringing around me. Pulling the blackout shades. Lowering the lights. Putting the stereo on quietly in the background. Swaying to the music and beginning to imagine you here with me. Eyes closed as my hands trace the buttons on my sweater, the metal buckle of my belt. Fingers undoing each button until the sweater rests lightly on my shoulders, open in front. A quick shrug and backward arch of my back, arms outstretched behind me, sends the soft wooly material gliding off my arms, allowing me to pretend it was your hands that slid it from my body.

Hips still swaying, eyes still closed so I can picture you in my mind, my hands moving to my hips, sliding down between my still-clad thighs, just a quick tease, before loosening my belt and undoing the button, the zipper, on my favorite pair of jeans.

It’s cold in my room. My fingers are cold. My nipples are hard against the lacy cups of my bra. It’s time to change locations. Get comfortable. Get warmed up.

Climbing onto the bed on all fours, I make my final preparations. The soft tinkle of glass on glass sends a shiver through me as my favorite piece of intimate art slides into the waiting glass of hot water. I’m shivering from cold and excitement when I slip under my thick covers, hands feeling even icier than before.

Curling under the blankets in the fetal position, I press my hands together as though in prayer and tuck them between the tight seam of my thighs, searching for elusive warmth. What I find instead is the insistent throbbing between my legs. Hands still, I begin with small movements of my hips, arching my lower back, pushing my ass away from my body as my chilled fingers warm. The seam of my jeans pulls taut against hard knot of desire between my legs with the slightest, most delicious pressure.

One hand pulls away, finding the undone buckle of my belt, tracing the cold circular piece of steel. The quiet chink of metal on metal sends another shiver through me. Hips moving a little faster now, pushing my ass a little farther back, increasing the pressure of my jeans between my legs as the air under my covers heats up.

Cold air slips under the edges of my blankets when I roll onto my back. Bending my knees raises a tent under the covers. Thinking of you again now that I’m warm enough to enjoy myself. Fingers of one hand rest on my lower belly before gathering the material of my top out of my waistband. Flat palm running along the taut muscles of my belly, feeling the smooth hot skin underneath my fingertips, imagining your hand on my skin.

Breath……huh…….huh……..huh…….

My thumbs hook into either side of my jeans as I raise my hips off the bed. Another puff of cold air hardens my nipples to painful points. I pull my jeans down under the curve of my ass, leaving the waistband drawn tight around my thighs. The white triangle of silky fabric that is my panties glows faintly in the small beam of light visible under the covers. Inviting. Irresistable.

One palm slides across my belly again, caressing my opposite side while the fingers of the other dip all the way down, gliding across the taut front of my panties. I finger myself through the thin damp material. All the way down. My thighs strain to edge apart, hindered by the fabric of my jeans, limiting my movement in a most erotic way. And back up. Imagining, always imagining you.

Both hands now. Sliding into the space between my jeans, over my panties, caressing myself on either side of the place where my thighs meet my body, teasing. Working hard to draw it out and make it last. But today the urgency is too much and the confines of my jeans frustrates me, holds me back, so that I shove them down around my ankles without taking them off.

The panties last even less time than the jeans, following jeans down my legs. With my knees free, I press them flat against the bed. Bending one knee brings my leg in toward my body so that my heel rests mere inches from my ass, still tangled in my jeans, a sexual version of Vriksha-asana.

Fingers of my left hand sliding down my belly past my navel, gliding over my clit, dipping into my cunt, seeking the moisture from deep within me.

Huh…..

My fingers slide into my cunt, sending my back arching off the sheets. I withdraw them to spread myself open, wet myself with my own desire. All the fingers of my right hand slide into the space between my other fingers to curl into me, to grip myself. My hips rise again, pressing into my eager, waiting hand.

Huh….huh….huh….huh

Middle finger emerging from all the rest to stroke my erect clit as I hold myself open. Back with you again, and it’s your tongue on me, licking me, stroking me, pleasing me. I’ve been so fucking turned on all day that barely any time passes before the visceral need radiates from deep within me.

Next level. My hand slips away, hips still rocking, snaking my fingers out from under the edge of the blankets. Reaching out. Fingertips grazing the warm side of the tall glass mug on my bedside table, walking up the side, searching for the warm ring peeking above the rim of the glass.

Glass dings against glass when I withdraw the heated sculpture from its warm bath. It’s heavy in my hand and hot as I pull it into the darkness under my covers. My thighs draw together involuntarily at the pure heat radiating from it into my skin when I press it against my tormented cunt. No control today, powerless to make it last, needing only the feel of you deep within me.

Fingers poised on the edge of the ring, I apply pressure, bending the angle as slowly as I can until everything falls to perfect alignment, filling me with your searing heat. Pushing it all the way to the hilt and leaving it there, dark ring braced on the taut fabric of my jeans. I hold it there and continue stroking myself with you buried deep inside me.

Huh…huh…huh…huh…

Fingers working, pushing hard, filling my mind with images of your mouth on my pussy, working the magik that only you know. Pressing my body down in small quick movements so that I can feel your slight movement within me. The ring of glass pushing against my heel, pushing you deeper into me, touching the places that only you know how to touch. And hot, so hot. Inside and out. Body slick with sweat from the heat of the covers and the effort. Burning between my thighs.

Huh..huh..huh..huh..

Everything else drops away until I’m floating on the edge. Electric jolts run through my body, contracting my stomach muscles in short spurts, pushing everything harder as my orgasm builds.

Bed beginning to creak under the frantic motion of my hips, fingers a hot blur against my inflamed flesh.

Huhhuhhuhhuh…

An inadvertent bump of the ring against my heel as you fuck me in my mind and…

Huh.oh.huh.oh.fuckfuckfuck…

Back arched all the way off the bed, cold air spilling into the hot spaces surrounding me, the blankets rise with my body. Fingers working fast through my orgasm as I finally grasp the ring of glass and fuck myself hard, my mind captive to your image.

I writhe against the confines of the bedclothes, merciless, not letting up even as the first wave begins to subside. Changing the angle of the glass shaft forces a second more intense orgasm. Stomach muscles straining, my body folds and bucks under the weight of my release.

Huh…huh…huh…Oh, fuck…

Coming down, still rocking, still thinking of you, still feeling the hard swell of you inside me, a wave of euphoria sweeps over me, leaving my body and mind humming in a universe of pure self-pleasure.

© 2010 Alice Gray

2073 A.D.

Ada awoke alone in her bed, a headache pounding at her temples. The headaches were getting worse and the public health clinic offered little help. She dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. Avoiding the cracked, discolored mirror, she typed her water ration code into the keypad mounted next to the stall and twisted the dials.

The ancient pipes let out a creaking groan before spitting icy brackish water from the shower head. She stripped, shivering as she stepped under the water. It smelled faintly of sulfur and something unmentionable. The only benefit of the three-minute shower allotment lay in the fact that the unpleasant experience was over quickly.

Ada toweled off and climbed back into her bed, savoring the lingering warmth for as long as she dared. She was still shivering though not as much when the clock told her it was time to put on her uniform and leave for work.

Out on the street, she made her way through the throngs of people migrating to work. The clean, shiny facades of the housing units she passed hid their shabby, run-down interiors. Fresh paint, litter-free thoroughfares, and artificial landscaping couldn’t hide the choking grey fog of pollution that blanketed Alb Byon. Some people wore cheap paper face masks but most of the people she passed, including herself, simply endured the stifling, toxic air.

The residential sector gave way to nondescript industrial zones populated by immaculate, windowless towers. Ada trudged to her building and submitted to the full body scan. The interior was just as devoid of warmth and personal expression as the rest of the sector. Everyone wore the same drab uniform identifying him or her as citizens of the city. The only distinguishing marks were the shiny metal insignia pinned to their collars.

Her status as a Level 4 Nexus specialist granted her access to the ground floor of the building. The lower your status, the higher up in the tower you had to work and the more dehumanizing the surroundings. Level 4’s had the dubious luxury of lighting that mimicked sunlight and an easy escape from the building in case of attack.

Ada wound her way through the maze of stations and took her seat inside the tiny booth. The LCD walls of her station sat grey and inert, waiting for her input. She logged in, enduring another invasive scan. After clearing security, the display hummed to life. Ada fitted her interface into place on her head and braced herself for the connection. A brief electrical current zapped her neurons when the probe entered the port at the base of her skull.

“Good morning, Ada,” the electronic voice in her head said.

“Good morning,” she thought.

“Do you pledge to be an upstanding citizen of Alb Byon promoting peace and harmony among our people?”

“Yes. Alb Byon is utopia.”

“Do you believe the government is fair and just?”

“Yes. The Mindors provide for all my needs and wants. They are the one true brotherhood of humanity.”

“Stand by for the day’s updates and your assignment.”

Ada braced herself for the invasive download from the central government server. For most, it was a pleasant experience. For Ada, it was a shocking wave of alien electrical current. The databanks imbedded in all citizens of Alb Byon at birth programmed the population to accept and obey the directives downloaded into their minds by the Mindors, Ada included. All that had changed five years ago when Fareed had forced himself into her life.

# # #

2068 A.D.

Ada made her way down the deserted sidewalk, her pace brisk. Stinging rain poured from the dark sky, the acidic drops burning her eyes. She swiped dirty water from her face and pulled her hood farther out trying to protect her exposed skin.

Work had run four hours overtime but Ada didn’t mind. She was happy to do it plus it was a Friday. Her work was important. It made her part of the majestic city and guaranteed her safety and comfort. The only thing that made her uneasy was being out on the streets after evening residential hours. Unless you had special permissions granted by the central server, everyone was required to be inside their assigned housing unit between the hours between 18:00 and 06:00.

The quiet beep issuing from the GPS security towers every 100 feet confirmed to the server that Ada was on her way home and had permission to be out after hours. Halfway to her home unit, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Dread pricked between her shoulder blades. Though she was unaccustomed to any negative feelings, the feeling that someone was watching her had become a constant companion over the last four weeks. It was starting to really creep her out but she had no idea what to do about it.

Ada slowed her pace hoping to catch the sound of footsteps but it was impossible to hear anything over the pounding rain. She glanced in the mirrored surfaces of the buildings she passed trying to see behind her. Rivulets of rain distorted the images into a crazy fun house kaleidoscope. Worried that her curfew pass would expire before she arrived home, Ada began to run.

She arrived at her building out of breath and near panic. Twice she punched in the wrong code, which sent her into near hysterics. A third mistake would bring instant trouble in the form of armed sentinels. Ada forced herself to step back and take deep breaths. The last thing she needed was a security breach on her record.

Her hands balled into tight fists, Ada closed her eyes and concentrated on calming down. One breath. Two. The panic began to recede. A third breath was all she dared. Her time was almost up and she still had to gain access to her building and type her code into the keypad of her apartment to let the server know she was home.

She was about to open her eyes when strong arms cinched around her. A hand pressed against her mouth muffling her startled scream.

“Shhh. Please don’t scream again. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Ada struggled against whoever held her. The arm around her chest tightened.

“Please don’t. I need you, Ada.” read more »

Note from Alice: I wrote this piece a year and a half ago on a whim for my writer’s group. The response was overwhelmingly positive and included the push to turn the short story into a full length novel. I love the premise and I love the characters so I dove in, not realizing just was I was signing myself up for. Nazi Germany has long held my fascination and I liked the idea of telling a story from a strong female lead. The research that has gone into what has become ‘Small Victory’ is mind boggling. For every minute I spend writing, there are five minutes spent on research, most of which never appears in the story. I have 50,000 words (most of them good) with another 50,000 to go. I’m reposting this piece because it was originally written in present tense and the novel is in past tense. My hope is that this scene has not lost its impact in translation from present to past. I would very much appreciate your thoughts as a reader on whether it still works. Leave comments here or email me if you’d like to chime in. Thanks so much! ~Alice

My heart raced the moment I set foot inside the room. My mission was to infiltrate the hostile place where my duty lay, to suck its secrets from between the fanatic lips of its mercenaries. And the penalty for failure was death. I was afraid; there is always fear. But I would have been a liar if I didn’t admit that I was also terribly excited.

The sweet pungent smell of burning opium and Turkish tobacco filled the dim room. The men were all wolfish grins and glittering eyes, predatory. It was what I expected and it wasn’t. I wanted the false security of a secret nightclub. Instead, I found myself in a ransacked apartment that rang with the vibrations of Judah. A place stolen from its peaceful inhabitants for the pleasure of Aryans.

And pleasure was the main course of the night. A break from the horrors these men bestowed on their fellow humans in the name of nationalism. It was altered reality, a place where sex and violence collided to produce some alien form of nirvana for those who believed that the two extremes could coexist, mesh, and cancel each other out.

I had my work cut out for me. My target, Erich Kleist, sat on the far side of the living room, a woman draped seductively across his lap. But she was no match for me. Her black curls and dark flashing eyes spoke of her Gypsy heritage.

An officer tried for my attention as I strode across the room. Ignoring him, I moved to stand before my duty.

“A drink perhaps to rinse the dirt from your throat, Herr Kleist, dirt left there by this one,” I said, the rising gorge of my betrayal to my murdered lover’s heritage shoved aside.

I watched him release the Gypsy woman’s nipple from his mouth to meet my gaze. She lay across his lap, the ribbons of her blouse stretched open to reveal the dark beauty of her naked breasts.

“And what if dirt was my preference tonight?” His hand moved like a mass of serpents beneath the Gypsy’s glittering skirts.

“Than I shall think you are a traitor to our Führer,” I answered, holding the exquisite crystal glass out to him.

The woman’s skirts lay still when he removed his hand from under them to accept the vodka I’d offered. I smelled the earthen scent of the Gypsy’s cunt on his fingers.

“Traitor? Traitor you call me? I could have you exterminated for words such as those.” His eyes were hot and cold, uncurling the worm of fear at the base of my spine.

Herr Kleist was one of the few targets I’d engaged who truly scared me. I looked away from his handsome face, finding instead the Gypsy woman’s whose hatred for me shone in her glazed obsidian eyes. They were no better than the eyes mine had sought refuge from.

“If dirt is where your passion lies than I am no one to tell you different, Herr Kleist. I am only offering a bit of salvation.” The sip of vodka from my own glass was a sip of courage, smooth and warm within my throat.

“Salvation comes in many forms and no two are the same.” He set his glass aside untouched, unwilling to trust me.

I watched him draw the Gypsy’s skirts up over her hips, revealing the black curly thatch between her thighs. Her moans of pleasure sent shivers down my spine to clash with the fear. I couldn’t take my eyes from the sight of his pale slender fingers sliding through the dark forest of her pubic hair.

“Mon Dieu… voir les anges,” the Gypsy woman cried.

“Dirty or clean, there is more than one road to salvation, Herr Kleist. Good evening to you.” My glass found my lips, the sting of the vodka echoing the fire he’d ignited between my thighs.

I left him to his Gypsy, searching for a secondary target. For though he did not take the bait so quickly, there were other men who had a measure of what I sought and I was free to engage them at will. There would be other opportunities to lure Herr Kleist and his secrets to my bed.

In Stefan, a young officer of lower rank than Herr Kleist, I found a suitable substitute. He sat apart casting occasional glances down the hallway.

“Why do you sit here alone, Stefan? Is there no one who catches your eye tonight?”

“I have no interest in dark women.”

“I’m hardly a dark woman.”

His eyes appraised me before he spoke. “No, you are certainly not a dark woman.”

He cast another glance down the hallway before turning back to me. Stefan reached out, running his fingertips along the outside of my thigh.

“Does this mean I’ve caught your eye?” The way he touched me told me his answer even before he spoke.

“You are very beautiful, Katrin.” His fingers fell away when he rose from his chair.

He rested his hands on my hips. Suspicion lay heavy behind his eyes when he looked into mine.

“Am I your second choice tonight?” he asked glancing in Herr Kleist’s direction.

“Hardly. If you are referring to Herr Kleist you are mistaken about my interest in him. I have no love for the Gypsies either and was merely telling him so.” The lie rolled off my lips almost as easy as the kiss I offered him.

Stefan’s hesitation to return my kiss made me want him all the more. My hand found the hard ridge of his cock between us, drawing a quiet groan from him. A few strokes through his uniform trousers were all it took to convince him of my sincerity. His mouth turned fevered against mine.

“Come to the bedroom with me, Katrin.”

I offered him a smile and my hand in his. Just before we turned and made our way down the hallway, I caught Herr Kleist watching us and the fear he inspired in me returned with a vengeance.

The closing of the bedroom door behind us shielded me from Herr Kleist’s stare but did nothing to shut out the apprehension I felt. It was Stefan’s hands on my breasts and his mouth at my throat that distracted me from my other feelings, leaving only desire for the young man.

“Take off your dress.” Stefan stepped away to watch me do as he pleased.

The black silk slithered deliciously down my body to puddle around my shoes.

He began undressing himself. “Your stockings and shoes, take them off as well.”

The shoes I quickly kicked off but I took my time undoing the clips of my garters, letting my fingers trail along the straps and across my thighs. Hunger burned in his eyes watching me perform for him. When the clips were undone, I sank into the softness of the bed to ease the stockings off my legs. The garter belt followed closely behind.

“Leave them on,” Stefan said when I hooked my fingers into my panties.

“And my bra?” I asked, taking in his beautiful nakedness.

“On.”

Stefan’s approach to the bed where I lay had me trembling with anticipation. Watching Herr Kleist bring the Gypsy to orgasm ignited my lust and I meant to have Stefan finish the job.

I expected Stefan to climb into the bed with me but he had something else in mind first. He groaned when I reached out to stroke his cock but didn’t stop me.

“Here,” he said, holding out a long slim pipe to me.

Releasing his cock, I took what he offered, watching while he finished setting things up. When everything was ready, I turned on my side so that I could angle the bowl of the pipe into the flame. Stefan crawled into the bed, curling himself against my back while I smoked.

The door of the bedroom opened to admit Herr Kleist. My fear returned when his eyes found me sprawled upon the luxurious goose feather mattress once owned by a prominent banker and his stoic wife.

Stefan continued thrusting his cock against my back although I felt him tense at the sight of his superior officer. In the silk of my lingerie, Stefan was finding deliverance from his daily duties while I found the courage to face Herr Kleist in the sweet smoke of the opium pipe.

“Is this the salvation you spoke of earlier, das Verfolgen dem Drachen?” Herr Kleist asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed where I lay with Stefan.

A thick stream of viscous smoke issued from my lips before I answered. “And what do you know of salvation?” I asked, feeling the opiate-induced tingle begin in my legs.

His eyes watched Stefan fondle my breasts through the silk of my bra. The sharp claws of the Dragon found purchase in my cunt, tearing me open to pour forth the rising tide of my arousal. The opium whispered seductively in my mind: perhaps I could have them both.

“Enough,” Herr Kleist answered, brushing his fingers along my face. “I know enough.” He took the pipe from my grasp and placed it on the tray of implements before moving everything to the table by the bed.

“Show me then,” I challenged him, the worm of fear burned away in a sweet-smelling cloud. “Show me what you know of salvation.”

Herr Kleist’s lips were hard and cruel. The vodka had purged away the taste of him.

I broke away first.

“Perhaps you should go wash to rid yourself of Gypsy filth before touching Aryan purity,” I said.

His slap was as hard and cruel as his mouth but the opium rendered his violence useless.

Stefan remained silent, the urgent heat of his cock the only reminder that he was still a player in this game.

“A visit from the angels for Gypsy filth and a slap for Aryan perfection? You are no brother of Deutschland. Go find yourself another mud hole to play in,” I said.

I gave him my back, focusing my attention on the young man in bed with me. Stefan’s cock was hot and salty in my mouth and the scent of the Dragon’s lair filled my head.

“Katrin…Katrin…” Young Stefan moaned, his fingers tangling in my hair.

“I see your silver tongue extends to other uses, Fräulein, besides berating my choice in women.” Herr Kleist’s words were hollow and far away, muffled by the strangling embrace of the Dragon roiling through my bloodstream. He became wholly unimportant.

Reality faded away to the two points that were my mouth and my cunt. Stefan’s cock was gorgeous, sweet and alive against my tongue, the last tether holding me there in a dead man’s bed. Cold fingers slid themselves inside the back of my panties seeking my heat. Stefan’s moan echoing mine when the cold fingers invaded me sent the room spinning.

“You are so wet, Fräulein Katrin,” Herr Kleist whispered into my ear. His words put a halt to the circling room.

I realized that the fingers moving through the slick mess of my cunt were his and not Stefan’s. The stubble of his beard scratched the place on my cheek where he struck me earlier. Herr Kleist pressed his face so close to mine that if he were to flick his tongue out we could have enjoyed Stefan’s cock together.

Not willing to share, my throat opened to accept all of Stefan, keeping him to myself.

The warming fingers circling my clit sent their heated pleasure trembling across my body. I moaned again around Stefan’s cock.

“Katrin, my God, your mouth.” Stefan shuddered.

“Do you like her mouth?” Herr Kleist asked.

“God, yes! She’s an excellent cocksucker.”

Stefan groaned and came hard, ejaculating thick streams down my throat that did nothing to put out the flames rippling up my spine. He continued thrusting his cock between my lips, perhaps hoping that he would stay hard enough so he could fuck me as well.

Herr Kleist had other ideas. “Abhanden kommen, Stefan! It is my turn to enjoy the woman now.”

The fingers slid out of my panties when Herr Kleist rose from the bed, dampening the blaze in my belly.

Stefan’s uniform trousers landed in his lap. “Get dressed and get lost, Stefan,” Herr Kleist said with real menace in his voice.

Hatred flashed across Stefan’s young face. “Yes, Oberführer,” he answered with proper respect. Stefan sat up to pull on his trousers.

“I beg your pardon, Herr Kleist, but you have no business telling Stefan that he must leave before I have finished with him. Your chance came and went. Stefan was not so hasty to turn me down and I am not finished fucking him yet,” I said, not caring that I had revealed my earlier lie to Stefan about him being my second choice.

The frightened look on Stefan’s face and the fact that he was still getting dressed told me that he was leaving me to Herr Kleist whether I wanted him to or not. That gorgeous cock of his that filled my mouth moments ago had practically shriveled up into his body with fear.

“It looks as though Stefan still knows his place,” Herr Kleist said.

We watched Stefan run from the bedroom the moment his trousers cleared his hips and slam the door behind him.

When Herr Kleist’s attention turned back to me, I rose from the bed to retrieve my dress from the floor.

“Then I suppose this is the end of my night as well since you have scared Stefan away,” I said and began to thread my arms through my gown.

His timing was perfect. A quick lunge toward me with his hand earned him my wrists, tangled within the tight grip of my black silk dress. He twisted the material in his fist for leverage, drawing me toward him.

“Not so fast, Katrin,” he said in a quiet voice.

The heat of his fingers sliding between my thighs made my knees give a little. The Dragon’s breath clouded my mind leaving me weak. I couldn’t help myself, I leaned against him for support. The warmth of his body made me realize how cold the air in the room was. Like everything about him, he seemed in complete control of himself. He pressed his lips to my face.

“You have not come yet tonight, Fräulein,” he whispered against my cheek, his fingers sliding the silk of my panties across my cunt.

I meant to tell him that his words were true and that he should order Stefan back into the room to finish what he started with me but the feel of Herr Kleist’s silk covered fingertips pushing into me burned away the words from my lips.

“No…” My answer drew out into a helpless moan but the word no longer held any meaning.

The opium had reduced me to a burning ember of lust that Herr Kleist mercilessly fanned into a raging inferno. My bound hands throbbed in time with my clit and I willingly accepted his vicious tongue into my mouth.

His fingers hooked under the edge of my panties and drew them aside.

“You are so eager, so ready, Katrin.”

I knew he spoke the truth because his fingers slipped into me with ease.

He held them there, curling them against the fluttering walls of my cunt.

The specter of my mission floated across the scorched landscape of my mind only to be torn to shreds by his fingers withdrawing.

“Again…” I said, my body in control of my mind.

“Are you ready to see the angels?”

“Yes…again, your fingers…” The room ceased to exist, vaporized by my singular need to come.

“You are not the only one with a silver-tipped tongue, Fräulein,” he said, drawing his fingers away so he could push me onto the bed. He untangled my dress from my wrists, freeing my hands.

The softness of the mattress enfolded me in its downy embrace, the warmth of Stefan’s body still trapped within its depths. The simple act of lying down pulled me back from the edge, clearing the haze for a brief moment. It was enough for me to realize that my chance at Herr Kleist might not come again so easily. I fought against my desire, my need to come.

“Did you enjoy watching me suck Stefan’s cock?” I asked, stalling for time to regain control of my emotions. I would not have smoked the opium if I had thought he might come to me tonight.

He climbed onto the bed on all fours while he answered. “Not as much as I will enjoy watching you suck mine.” He loomed over me, dark and threatening, but the opium had its benefits, boldness being one.

“And what makes you so sure that you will see such a thing?” I asked, playing my fingertips down the row of buttons on his shirt.

Bending his elbows so he could lean in, he placed a kiss along my collarbone. “Because I am going to make you beg for my cock,” he answered, his mouth moving down my body. His absolute confidence in his words angered me.

Even so, I couldn’t keep my stomach from trembling under his lips when he kissed the shadow beneath my hip. I wanted nothing more than the promise he was offering but I held myself back, using my anger as a lever.

“Does this mean I can address you by your first name then?” I asked.

“By all means, please do,” he whispered, his breath hot against the front of my panties.

“Don’t fool yourself into believing that you are the only one who knows how to make beggars out of others, Erich,” I said, moving my hips to the side so that my cunt angled away from his mouth. I was afraid that if he touched me, I’d lose control and I couldn’t afford to give him that advantage.

He shifted his weight, gripping my hips in his hands to maneuver me back where he wanted me. His eyes found mine. “Let’s stop playing games.”

“Who’s playing?” I asked in all honesty. In the world of spies, every game is for keeps.

Maybe it was the opium but I saw something flash across his face and it looked like vulnerability. I must have been mistaken. This was a man who ordered to death women and children without a second thought but I felt a moment of triumph. He’d given me an edge to work with.

“There are only games when it comes to sex,” he said, resting his chin next to my navel.

His palm pressing against the front of my panties sent a shock wave across my body, untethering my tenuous grip on the reins of my self-control.

“Then let’s play,” I whispered, tracing the line of his cheek with the pad of my thumb. A small breath of air escaped his mouth when I drew my fingers over the fullness of his lips.

He sucked one of my fingers into his mouth for a moment before releasing it.

“What are the rules of the game?” he asked before kissing his way along the edge of my panties.

“No rules, not now.” I reached for him. “Right now I want you to kiss me again.”

There was no hesitation in him. He was up on me, his mouth softer this time but more urgent.

“You taste of Stefan.”

“And soon I will taste of you,” I answered, my fingers finding the buttons of his trousers.

Erich groaned against my throat when I gripped his cock.

“Katrin-”

I pressed my lips to his. “Shh…we can talk later,” I whispered.

He groaned again when I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and began stroking him. He was still dressed and his clothing frustrated me. A gentle push had him on his back. Straddling his hips, I sat low across his taut stomach feeling his cock through my panties.

The look of desire in Erich’s eyes was a mirror of my own feelings. His breath came faster with each button I teased open on his shirt. When the last button came free, I pushed the material aside. He was beautiful, perfect, the skin of his chest pale and smooth. His nipples shrunk to hard peaks against my lips and teeth. He shifted under me, pushing his trousers down his hips.

It was Erich’s turn to tremble when I kissed the hard muscles of his stomach. I couldn’t resist nuzzling my cheek in the small patch of golden hair below his navel. I wanted his cock in my mouth but he stopped me when I tried, pulling me up into another kiss instead.

“No,” he whispered against my mouth. “I don’t want what you have already given to another man tonight.”

He striped me of my bra before rolling us over so that he was on top. His tongue played over my nipples, trailing down the curve of my waist so that he could pull my panties off. The kiss of Erich’s lips against my bared flesh was a flash of heaven but a single kiss was all he offered.

It took him only a moment to finish undressing himself. God, but he was beautiful, perfect in every way. He stood at the end of the bed for just a moment, his eyes moving across my naked body. When he had his fill, he knelt and buried his face in my cunt inhaling the scent of me.

His tongue flashing across my clit set off a string of firecrackers along my spine making me cry out. Erich was telling the truth when he spoke of his silver tongue. My orgasm thundered toward me like a runaway freight train.

Erich backed off just before the locomotive hit.

“Please…don’t stop. I’m so close.” I pushed my hips up in search of his mouth.

His hand found my belly, pushing me back down into the bed so he could move back on top of me.

“Good, Katrin. You’re begging.” He kissed the spot just below my ear before continuing. “I want to hear you beg for my cock.”

What he asked from me was not hard to give. He was teasing me, sliding his cock along my tormented cunt.

My fingernails raked parallel groves across the smooth skin of his back, drawing a hiss of pain from him.

“Please, Erich…please.”

“Open your eyes.”

I hadn’t realized I had closed them. With my eyes open, I saw him searching for something. I wanted to know if he saw in my eyes what I saw in his but the words were lost when he pushed into me.

“Open…eyes open.”

I saw him but he shimmered as though I was underwater. My whole existence centered on the feel him filling me. Somewhere far away, one of us was mewling. My body rocked once, twice.

“You’re coming, Katrin.”

The words echoed from somewhere faraway.

“Yes…oh…” My orgasm threatened to rip me in two with the violence of my release. It went on and on until I was sure I was about to die.

When I was reduced to quiet shaking, Erich began fucking me with a tenderness I hadn’t expected. It reminded me of the vulnerability I was sure flashed across his face earlier in the evening.

He took his time, finding all the places within me where pleasure resided. I wasn’t done with him, only just beginning. My orgasm had loosened the grip of the Dragon enough to allow me to refocus on the reason I lay there while he fucked me.

“Salvation,” Erich whispered to me. “You are all the salvation a man like me could ask for.”

There were no more words between us while we worked toward his climax. As cold as the air in the room was, the sheen of sweat between our bodies eased the friction of skin on skin.

A second orgasm blinked alive on the horizon, different from the first, slower, easier. The hard muscles of his ass clenched under my hands when I pulled him deeper into me. His body shuddered on the edge of release.

We both gasped when he withdrew almost fully from me. He was trembling, holding himself on the edge. My kiss pushed him over.

“Oh, Katrin, Katrin…” Erich buried his face in my neck and his shuddering cock in my cunt.

I held him tight until the last spasm passed and his body relaxed into mine.

Erich lay spent against me for a long time, the sweat of our efforts cooling in the cold air. Only when his cock had gone soft and slipped from me did he roll away.

I retrieved the package of cigarettes off the bedside table. Lighting two, I offered him one. He took it without a word and we smoked in silence for a while.

“Why?” he asked in the quiet stillness.

I didn’t need to ask him what he meant. “Because I believe,” I said, knowing full well that he was asking why I allowed men like him to fuck me.

“Salvation,” he said to the ceiling before finishing his cigarette.